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its-time-to-write · 8 months

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Can you write a Jamie Tartt request where he and the reader are in the "between lovers and friends stage" and they finally get together when he has her sleepover at his place after finding out her ex was loitering by her apartment?

I’m alive (mostly!) and I’m starting to go through the asks in my inbox again! Sorry to all y’all who have been waiting. I love you!😇😍

p.s. I’ve been obsessed with the song “Margaret” by LDR, which is where the title comes from

(oh also I barely responded to this prompt so that I could write this dumb fic that’s been on my brain forever. so. apologies for that too)

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

It goes like this: boy meets girl, they go to the same primary school, girl kicks around football with boy and sneaks into his room to hug him when his dad’s a prick, boy moves away to become a Premier League footballer and girl cries her heart out because they’re best friends.

Fucking typical.

And yet, he still picks up every phone call. Still answers every text you send. He’ll never say the word “love,” especially not when he’s with Keeley Jones and their faces are all over tabloids and instagram. But you’ll feel it in the way he’s a prick to everyone but you. It’s in the way his voice goes soft when you call him at 2am crying about being dumped by your first boyfriend.

He doesn’t visit, doesn’t phone his mum, but he’ll send you a quick voice message when he can. Usually not saying much, just a snip about training. First it’s all about Pep and the lads at Man City, then it’s about some gaffer named Cartrick and the fact that he’s teammates with Roy fucking Kent.

Jamie never tells you that Roy absolutely fucking hates him, but you know anyway.

Jamie also doesn’t call you when Keeley breaks up with him. In fact, you don’t even find out about it until pictures of Roy and Keeley surface online. You call him as soon as you can, and in typical Jamie fashion, he picks up on the second ring.

You don’t ask him about Keeley, just let him talk about football and the new manager from America, and the fact that maybe Richmond isn’t so bad and maybe he can let his armor down just a little bit.

He’s sent back to Manchester the next day.

The bonds of childhood friendship run strong, because he’s on your doorstep in no time at all, and though it’s been years since you’ve seen him in person, there’s a part of you that feels like he never left.

It never goes beyond friendship with you two. You don’t allow yourself to consider him in any other light because this friendship is special and important and neither of you will let anything ruin it.

It’s so strange sometimes to see him on tv or in an interview, eyes sharp and mouth full of barbs. Always on the offensive, always cutting others down before they have a chance to do the same to him. You have a hard time believing it’s the same boy who’s on your couch staring at the ceiling as he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

He’s never spoken that way to you, and you have a hard time believing he ever will.

So you feed him and make him smile and go to as many matches as you can (he leaves tickets on your kitchen table so you won’t protest) and give him a house key so he can come and go as he pleases.

But then he’s gone again, it’s the off-season and he’s on some tv show and you’re watching him flirt and seduce and pull at people’s heartstrings like they’re marionettes, and you realize (perhaps for the first time) how deep the damage has gone.

He gets absolutely shredded online, called all sorts of names by fans of the show and football alike, and you wonder if you’re the only one who can see what’s happening. That it’s all a show and that person, that Jamie Tartt on the screen is not the Jamie Tartt who used to throw pebbles at your window to come see if you wanted to ride bikes together.

It’s different than when he went to the Premier League. He doesn’t answer your texts.

It’s fine though, because your life doesn’t revolve around him. You have other, real friends and a boyfriend and a nice little flat and a good job. So he can go do what he wants and when he needs someone to pick up the pieces, you’ll go because you understand that sometimes this friendship is a one-way street.

You miss him, though.

You don’t watch his season of Lust Conquers All until your boyfriend calls you and says, “Hey, it’s been fun, but I’m just not feeling it anymore, thanks for understanding,” and then you binge every episode right up to the current one.

So now you don’t have a boyfriend. You’re glad it hadn’t gone too far, but his words still stung. But you drown your feelings in ice cream and shitty tv and it’s alright because another episode airs in an hour, so you can see more of Jamie and hope he’s doing okay.

He’s not. He gets voted off and you think that’s stupid but also maybe a little bit good.

—

Jamie just thinks it’s stupid. He’s kicked off his only lifeline, and then Man City flat-out refuses to take him back and he has to find out on live television for fuck’s sake. And then he has the brilliant idea to ask Ted Lasso to come back, because of course Ted will take him, what with his yeehaw can-do bullshit. Except Ted tells him no, and now he has nothing.

He’s cut out every friend, every family member and is resigned to life as a has-been before he’s even twenty-five years old.

Now, he’s at home with the blinds pulled. He’s not even sure what time it is anymore because it’s all meaningless, innit? So when there’s a knock at the door, he has to blink a couple times from his place on the couch before turning off FIFA and going to see who it could possibly be.

He hopes it’s you, even though he knows there’s no way. Not after he ghosted you for months. He ignores the uncomfortable flip-flop in his stomach at the thought of seeing you, and the way his heart beats a little faster when he thinks of holding you.

He won’t cross that line. Your friendship (if it still exists) is too important.

So he opens the door, ready to see who the fuck is bothering him.

It’s Ted.

Ted asks, “Can I come in?” but he’s obviously not going to accept no as an answer, so Jamie steps back to let him inside.

Ted’s just standing awkwardly in Jamie’s kitchen, not even pretending that he isn’t shocked by Jamie’s decor.

Jamie isn’t going to defend his choices to Ted of all people. Nor is he going to do anything to lessen his awkwardness. Finally, Ted clears his throat and says, “Well Jamie, it seems we need to revisit our last conversation.”

Jamie stares at him, refusing to speak until he’s sure what Ted is saying, so Ted continues.

“I think I was a little bit too hasty when I said you couldn’t come back to Richmond. I’ve been giving it some thought, and we’d love to have you back.”

Jamie looks at Ted, all rumpled in his sweatshirt and shorts, hair as undone as it’s ever been, and is supremely unsure of what he’s supposed to say.

Yeah, I’ll come back to Richmond.

Fuck off, you’re too late.

He’s saved from saying something stupid by the sound of the front door rattling as someone punches in the code.

“You expectin’ someone?” Ted asks.

Jamie shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No one has the code, except-”

The door is shoved open and you burst through in a flurry of motion. You call, “Jamie?” but you can already see him in the kitchen so you make a beeline to his location and launch yourself into his arms.

He’s solid as always, smelling like day-old Lynx. His arms are tight wrapped around you, body warm as you press your cheek against his.

He sets you down after a moment, and brushes away a stray strand of hair from your face.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks softly, still not quite letting you go. Ted notes that this is a new tone for Jamie. Or at least, the Jamie he’s interacted with. It’s not a performance, not something designed to make people love or hate him, it’s what Ted suspects is the most authentic version of Jamie. Whoever you are, you must be important.

“Wanted to make sure you were ok. I saw your interview.”

Jamie makes a face. “Fuck’s sake, has everyone seen that shit?”

You shrug. “Hard to miss it. Your mum sent it to me. She’s kind of why I’m here, actually.”

“You know Jamie’s mom?” Ted asks, surprised. It’s only then that you notice he’s in the room. Your face heats up because you wouldn’t have been that grabby with Jamie had you known he weren’t alone.

“Hi, I’m Ted,” he says reaching out to shake your hand, “Seems to me like you know this one from a while back.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. “Which is why I figured something was wrong when he ghosted me for fucking ever.”

Jamie winces and Ted takes his cue.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” he says. He points a finger at Jamie. “You let me know what you decide, son.”

“It’s a yes, Coach,” Jamie calls as Ted heads out the door. You crane your neck in time to see Ted pump his fist in the air before the door shuts behind him.

“So,” you say, arms crossed, “you have a big fucking excuse for not answering my calls. But you better never fucking do it again, or I’m showing back up here with Georgie and she’ll kick your ass.”

Jamie grimaces. Sure, Georgie was never violent with him, but there’s something particularly terrifying about the way she says Jamie Tartt you have got some explaining to do, while her eyes do that thing where they flash and stare straight into his soul.

“Right, yeah, I’m really sorry,” he says and he’s lucky that his tone backs up his words because if he had one ounce of prick in his voice, you’d make him really sorry. I mean come on, who ignores their family?

The thought passes through your mind just long enough for it to freak you out before Jamie’s tentatively reaching out to hug you again.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder as you scratch his the back of his head.

—

You’ve been on Jamie’s couch for the better part of two hours, talking and letting him pretend like he’s not on the verge of tears because at least he’s being open and honest for once, when he shoots up and says, “Jesus Christ, fucking Kyle.”

He turns to you, eyes wide as he asks, “Isn’t he gonna wonder where you are? Shit, and you’re with me. He’s not gonna like that shit at all.”

You shrug infinitesimally while you examine a spot on the wall.

“We’re not together anymore,” you answer as casually as possible.

Jamie sighs and settles back onto the couch. “Shit. Glad you finally dumped that prick.”

You glare at him. “I didn’t. He dumped me. And then I found him lurking in my fucking bushes yesterday like a total creeper.”

Jamie’s up again off the couch, this time heading for his car keys as he yells, “For fuck’s sake, love, you should’ve called me.”

“I did!” you shout back. “I did, and you didn’t pick up, did you? Anyway, it’s probably not going to be an issue anymore.”

Jamie returns to the living room, face ashen. “Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. I’m so sorry.”

You shrug and say, “It’s not a big deal. He decided that he liked certain body parts he owned more than he liked intimidating me.

Jamie grips his keys so hard that his knuckles turn white as he says, “Right, you’re sleeping over tonight because no one fucking treats my girl that way.”

Then he freezes.

You’re not frozen, because a single shiver has worked its way up your spine.

My girl.

It came out so naturally.

And it implied ownership? But of the mutual sort? And in a way that two best friends simply did notbelong together.

The entire house is so silent, you swear you can hear Jamie blink. Well, that is, if either of you actually moved a muscle as opposed to staring at each other across the room.

“What-” you start, but your throat is all weird and tight, so you clear it and try again. “What did you say?”

It still comes out much lower than you anticipated and Jamie has a split second to assess your body language and make a choice.

You’re fully angled toward him, eyes wide. You’re not giving him a look that says, shut the fuck up right now, Jamie Tartt, so he takes it as permission.

Permission to take one step closer, then another, then another until he’s standing right next to you. He slowly sinks down on the couch next to you as his says in a low, gravely voice, “I said, ‘no one fucking treats my girl that way.’”

Ah. So this is where over a decade of friendship has gotten you. On Jamie Tartt’s couch as your lips crash against his, both wondering why you hadn’t made a move sooner.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re here now and you’re sure you won’t waste a single second.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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ellethespaceunicorn · 2 months

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Helllooooo!!! I hope you're having a good day!! 💕💜✨

Can I submit a prompt where Lloyd calls in his normally mousey assistant on one of her off days and is blown back by her casual attire? Maybe she's on her way out of hang with the girls and she's got her hottie/freekum dress/attire on.

Bonus if she is as completely I bothered as she normally is and even teases him a bit for his audacity 😈😈

I appreciate you're brain and the time you spend sharing it with us!! ☺️💕💜

Hi nonny!! So sorry this took so long, but here it is! And just as a warning, this one is a doozy and I will not be earning bonus points based on your ask.

Is getting negative points a thing?? (Because this thing went off the rails...)

Title: Power Play: After Hours

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

Warnings: horrible boss Lloyd, pet name (Mouse), power imbalance, multiple threats of violence, non-con, forced oral sex (f receiving), slight dacryphilia, forced hand job (m receiving), dub-con p-in-v intercourse, vaginal creampie, forced oral sex (m receiving), oral creampie, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: I apologize to nonny who asked for something (I think) completely different. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You’re at home getting ready to go out with the girls. It has been ages since you had a free night to let your hair down. But tonight was the night.

You made sure to ditch the wool sweaters, drab colors, and sensible shoes that you usually wear to work. Instead, you opt for a form-fitting pinstripe dress that ends just above your knee. Large hoop earrings push through your hair and demand attention. Your feet are covered in strappy heels that are cuter than they are comfortable.

But beauty is pain, no?

Just as you are exiting your apartment and entering your car, your phone buzzes. You pull your phone from your purse and growl at the text message from your boss.

Your boss, your reason for migraine medication, the bane of your existence. Lloyd Hansen. Getting an internship with Hansen Government Service was supposed to be a summer gig to help you pay for odds and ends during your last year at college. But no, you had to go ahead and impress the CEO with your problem-solving and the way you covered your former boss’ ass one too many times.

And now here you are, the personal assistant to this deplorable caricature of a human being. Amazing vision and dental benefits aside, you were the glorified babysitter to a sociopath with an inferiority complex. But you keep your mouth shut and your head down because you know where your bread is buttered.

The text from Lloyd is still sitting in your inbox unread one minute later when your phone starts to ring. You were hoping he would think you were asleep or something, but you remember Lloyd doesn’t observe normal business hours. And he doesn’t give a shit if you have a day off either.

“Yes, Sir,” you answer with Lloyd’s preferred moniker.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?” he asks, his annoyed tone unmistakable.

“I apologize for not being available to you, Sir. What can I help you with?” you acknowledge, wanting him to get to his point of bothering you.

“Hmmm. I’m gonna ignore you being rudely polite. For now. Need you to get my dry cleaning, Mouse,” he advises, using that nickname that boils your blood.

“Sir. It’s almost 9 p.m. Are the dry cleaners still open?” you wonder aloud.

“I called them, and they agreed to re-open so that I could get my shirts. Wasn’t that nice of them? You don’t wanna keep that sweet old lady waiting this late at night, do you?” he persuades, a sinister chuckle sending a chill down your spine.

“I will pick up your shirts for you, Sir,” you question.

“Had to pull a late night at the office, but I’m leaving now. Meet me at my place, Mouse,” he replies.

“Yes, Sir,” you say, holding back the urge to scream in his ear and ending the call.

By being at the office, he is within walking distance of the shop where his clothing is being held.

Deep breaths. Don’t let him take your joy.

You pass your office building and veer into the small shopping center. Stepping into the shop, you realize you don’t have a ticket, but you also know that the place is staying open for only one reason.

“You here to pick up Hansen?” The old woman behind the counter smiles at you and you nod stepping over to her, “Very particular, that one. Don’t let him work you too hard, honey.”

“Oh, thank you,” you greet, smiling when she handed over the hangers of shirts covered in plastic material, “May I just apologize for him keeping you open past your hours?”

Before you can apologize, the sweet woman comes around the counter and pats your hand.

“How long are you going to apologize for him? Just go home, honey. And good luck with that one,” she reasons, and she scoots you out of the store before you can tell her that you’re only his assistant, not his long-suffering wife.

You give up trying to explain yourself and turn around to get back in your car. With the shirts hung in the back seat, you speed until you get to Lloyd’s gated community. Pushing in the code to the outer gate, you squirm in your seat as the gate slowly opens.

Driving through streets with pretentious names, you end up at the cul-de-sac where his McMansion sits center-stage among the other Stepford homes. You park next to his vehicle in the spacious driveway, a BMW M8 Competition Convertible in Alpine White. Not a scratch on her sparkling surface.

You stuff down the urge to put a scratch on his car because he will notice it. He notices everything. And with the level of neat freak that he is, he probably would notice a single fingerprint on the car’s hood.

Walking up to the door, you see the Ring camera and press the doorbell. The porch light comes on and the door opens to reveal your boss talking on the phone with one earbud in his ear. He pauses and looks you up and down before letting you walk in around him.

“I’m gonna have to go, something just came up,” he purrs, adjusting himself in the two seconds you were looking away from him. He pulls out his earbud, ending the call and turning his attention to you, “Mouse, glad you could make it, but you didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“I didn’t. Here are your shirts. Can I help you with anything else, Sir?” you explain, holding his dry cleaning out so he can take them.

Once he reaches out, he bypasses the shirts, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. “Maybe there is one thing you can do for me, Mouse. It is quite a big job though,” he dares, ghosting his thumb over your pulse point.

“Hmmm. Sir, I didn’t come all this way to do whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you warn, putting your hand on his chest to push him away as you feel his increased heart rate.

His eyes are dark, with barely any blue left in the iris. You can almost feel how hungry he is for you.

“Well, I was gonna say I wouldn’t mind a blowjob from those perfect glossy lips. But I think I wanna hear your mouth moan for me while I eat that pretty pussy instead,” he admits, taking the shirts out of your hand before hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Sir! No! Put me down, you fucking psycho. What are you doing?” you demand, pounding your hands on his back and landing a harsh blow directly to his ass.

“Fuck, Mouse! Hands to yourself, or I won’t keep my hands to myself, ok?” he cautions, surprising you with a hard slap to your ass, “And you got that wrong anyway, I’m technically a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

You’re in a state of stunned silence as he walks up the grand staircase in the room and brings you into a bedroom down the hall. You don’t have time to wonder what all of the other rooms are used for as you are dumped on his bed. The silk sheets underneath you are comfortable, but they seem creepy once you think about being thrown down on top of them. Before you can scramble off of the bed, Lloyd grabs you by the hips and traps you under his weight.

“Mouse, mouse, mouse. Why don’t you ever dress like this for me?” he breathes, his clothed erection nestled against your hip, “You wearing this for some asshole? Should call him up and tell him I got to you first.”

“Sir, please. I was just going to hang out with my girls. I promise I won’t say anything about this if you just let me go,” you whimper, your hands going to his chest again trying to push him away.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to the bed. His nose takes in your RiRi perfume as it glides along your neck. Kicking your legs open, he nestles himself in between so he can rock his hips into you. Feeling his hardening dick against your panties as your dress rides up, he groans as he feels the heat coming off of you.

“Kinda funny you want me to let you go. But I bet if I dipped a finger into that cute snatch I know you have, I would find a little honey pot full of delicious sweetness waiting for me. Shall I test that out?” he counters. Holding both wrists in one giant hand as he trails a hand down your body until it disappears between you.

You feel his bruising fingers pushing your panties out of the way to find his prize. His touch turns almost delicate as the tips of his fingers find your wet pussy; your body’s betrayal is evident in the puddle forming on your netherlips. The look in his eyes when he finds what he’s looking for is bordering on sheer joy.

“There it is, Mouse. Just like I knew it would be,” he beams, pulling two fingers coated in your essence to his mouth and sucking them clean, “Fuck. I knew it would be delicious. You’re gonna sit on my face and give me all your sweet cream.”

He rolls your body over so that you are straddling him. You debate trying to scramble off of him, but he pinches your thigh and brings you back to the task at hand. You crawl up his body and hover over his face until he locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you down over his eager mouth.

Looking down at him, he looks serene with his eyes closed as he goes to work on your sensitive folds. For a while, you feel nothing when he licks up your slit. Circling your nub with his tongue, he moans when your clit twitches. When kitten licks against your clit turn to sucking it into his mouth, you can’t restrain the urge to grab a handful of his hair.

If he wants to hear you moan pretty for him, he’s gonna need to do better than this. You grind your pussy into his tongue and sigh when he sticks his tongue directly into your hole. Fucking into you with his tongue is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

You tighten your fingers in his auburn hair, unable to hold back your orgasm for much longer. Visions of all the times he looked at you like you were a piece of meat flash before your eyes. The way all of his other assistants quit the job after short stints. And you just about gift-wrapped yourself for him tonight.

You should have never answered the phone. But it’s kind of hard to think about that now with the way your resolve is slowly slipping away. You feel the metaphorical rubber band being stretched to within an inch of its life. Until pop!

The wave of your climax washes over you like a warm blanket. Your keening whine is music to Lloyd’s ears as he holds you tighter when you try and extricate yourself from his grasp. He laps up everything you have to give him and makes obscene sucking and licking noises. Once he lets up on your pussy, he lets your weak body roll to the side on its own. You don’t notice you are crying until he licks away one tear.

He looks down at you as he wipes his mustache clean of your juices. “Every part of you tastes amazing, Mouse. Even your tears. Fuck, that’s so hot I got you crying for me,” he hums, wiping away your tears with a thumb as he lays next to your limp body.

You’re quiet as you lay in your boss’ bed, him having just defiled your body with his tongue. Not knowing what to think, your brain just replays everything trying to find where you went so wrong. Because not only was that an Earth-shattering orgasm but it was given to you by your boss. That kind of thing is frowned upon in most companies. But Lloyd is the CEO, are the rules different? You don’t have the time to keep thinking when Lloyd chimes in.

“Now, Mouse, I’m sure your brain is going a mile a minute. But let me make one thing clear: I am going to need you to come into work dressed just like this from now on. You wear something tight, something that shows off this body, something that I can pull up or down and fuck you in while we’re in the office,” he chuckles as you look over to him with tears in your eyes at your new fate, “We’ll put that into your contract. What do you think? From Personal Assistant to Fuck Toy. That’s a step up, huh?”

You say nothing, content to shed tears and wish that the Earth would open up and swallow you.

“Don’t be so gloomy. At least you got to come, unlike some of us. You can help me with that, can’t you Mouse?” he pleads, as if he didn’t just change your job title to fit your new duties. He unzips his pants, pulling out his thick length and reaching for your hand to wrap around it, “I won’t need much help. I could’ve blown in my pants like a fucking teenager when you came in my mouth.”

You wish his mouth would just fucking stop. You don’t need the commentary. You unenthusiastically jerk him off until he spills rope after rope of jizz painting your hand and his pants. At least he was right, he didn’t need much help.

“Good fucking job, Mouse,” he gushes, throwing an arm over his brow as he catches his breath, “Can’t wait to take that cunt for a test drive but I can wait until my balls are not so fucking empty. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom.”

You rise and walk into the attached bathroom all without a single thought in your head. You use the toilet, wash your hands, and splash water on your face. You avoid the mirror like the plague.

Coming back to the bedroom, you are greeted by Lloyd lying on his side and crooking a finger at you. You swallow your spit and take a deep breath, moving to join him on the bed.

Once there, you let him manhandle you in every position he wants. You close your eyes, wishing you were somewhere else. Until he has you on your back. He makes you stare into his eyes as he fucks you like the little puppet you are. When he takes you over the edge again, he doesn’t stop his onslaught until you beg him to stop.

But begging only drives him to go harder. Flesh slapping against flesh painfully until he pushes himself deep within you and stills. Every twitch and spurt felt inside of you like a slap to the face. You’re not on birth control and you fear asking if he is snipped but he speaks up before you can ask.

“I pay you enough to afford the morning-after pill, right?” he asks, his dick softening and sliding out of you.

Fucking asshole. The thought of murder crosses your mind more than once, but you know people might come looking for him. And the thought of having to trade in your freedom for a life behind bars makes you rethink killing this nutcase.

So, instead, you just say, “Yes, Sir.”

“Right. Good. Alright, well it’s not too late for you to go out with your friends. Don’t stay out too late, you have work in the morning. Bright and early, Mouse. I expect you to be there tomorrow,” he remarks, acting like he didn’t just use your body for his sick pleasure, “That means you’re good to go home now, Mouse. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets off you, climbing off the bed and adjusting himself, pulling you up and escorting you to the front door. He all but pushes you out of the door into the night, as if you were trash. When you get back inside your car, your phone has tons of messages from your friends wondering where you are.

You send a mass text that you weren’t feeling well, and you needed rest. It wasn’t entirely untrue anyway. You make it back home, shedding your clothes as you walk to your bedroom. You pull back the covers and wrap yourself in warmth, willing the events of the night to just go away. But they don’t go away.

The next morning, you shower and dress like Lloyd wants. The looks of your coworkers cause heat to rise to your face. You don’t usually get this type of attention. Or any attention when you think about it.

When you get to Lloyd’s office, he is sitting behind his desk on a call, and he waves you over. You walk around his desk and see his pants are already unbuttoned and his half-chub is sticking out. You spare yourself the embarrassment of being asked and go right to work on him with your hands. Unsurprised when he puts a hand on the back of your head, you just lower yourself and take him in your mouth.

Little does he know; your head game is strong. And within about three minutes, you have him spasming down your throat. His softening cock is sensitive as you tease him by swirling your tongue around the head. He ends his phone call and holds your face in his hands.

“What’s my soul taste like, Mouse? I’m sure you sucked it right out,” he praises, his dazed eyes focusing on you while he catches his breath.

“If you had a soul, I’m sure it would taste as bitter as your cum,” you snap, uncaring of whether or not he was offended.

“Good point. Watch that pretty mouth, though. My precious feelings might get hurt. And then you might get hurt. So, play nice, Mouse,” he cautions, lightly clapping his hand against your cheek, just hard enough to jerk you out of misbehaving.

“Yes, Sir,” you sass, putting on a fake smile and Lloyd rolls his eyes, shooing you away.

You can do what he says, doesn’t mean you have to make it easy for him in the slightest. And isn’t that the best way to get back at him? Give him everything he wants but with no enthusiasm. Of course, you know this little plan of yours won’t last long. But when you’re faced with a demon like Lloyd Hansen, you’ll take any little victory you can. As few and far between as they may be.

A/N: This got way out of hand. I don’t know what happened. Um, I’m not sorry though. Because I love this and if it ends up being just for me, then so be it.

**Tag List**

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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months

Text

Flirting w/ Caine

realized i can do the silly little mini prompt series things that i do for crp with TADC too so uhuh !! wooo!! also also im genuinely unsure if ive done this before with the cast/some of the characters, i know i have the masterlist now but my eyes and mind are feeling a little buggy + its over 300 links i have to comb through and i dont wanna deal with that right now soooo perhaps bonus hcs? maybe? idk!! also i wanna apologize for being slow on requests/not answering many lately </3 the inbox has been a little empty + ive been busy with art TToTT theres still a few more ideas i wanna get down so most of my focus is still going to go to my art/main

i dont think he gets flustered all that easily

well, okay thats not entirely true; he just takes it better than others and uses it as a fuel to keep going trying to get you to falter

constantly banter and flirting between the two of you, it almost makes the other circus members sick!/lh

seriously every other sentence caine says to you has some sort of compliment or pick up line, its a little impressive that he can squeeze so much into a conversation with you

looooooves pick up lines that are corny or are more jokey, makes him laugh and hes going to be firing them back

genuinely one of his favorite genres of jokes and flirting

probably adds some flair into some of his flattery attempts, I.E. using the digital world and its effects/physics to his advantage, as well as being the ringmaster he has more... of a grip(?) on it

adds sparkles and hearts while talking to you, almost as if hes emoting in real time at you

oh he definitely pulls his collar and lets steam out after you hit him with a particularly good line

only time he really gets flustered and tries to shush you to save his embarrassment is if you decide to be more bold and get more saucy with your lines

probably shushes you by tugging you away or putting his hands over your mouth

or probably loudly laughs to mask your words, especially if theres other people around

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #caine x you #caine imagine

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xxsycamore · 3 months

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Congrats on 1500 followers Mo!!! It's so hard to choose! The prompts are all so cute and there's so many suitors to choose from! Thank you for opening your inbox and I love the variety/range! Even MidCin too! 😱

May I request IkePri Matthias 💘? Thank you!!

Ahhh thank you so much!! 🥺🥺🥺 Happy Valentine's Day! Your request had the perfect timing, haha! ❤

[💘] 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎…

MATTHIAS:

You don't dare open your eyes; at least you refuse to do so until you feel the exquisitely but not over-the-top wrapped chocolate box being accepted from your outstretched hands by those of the man standing in front of you.

The Achroite prince is an enigma to you; a pretty stranger, a visiting prince that everyone talks about. Your imagination had initially painted the infamous Guardian of Laws as someone as cold as the land he inhabits; with a severe gaze and intolerance for anyone that walks under that gaze. As it goes with royalties, his family name gains shape at the tip of your tongue before his given one does. Now you feel like you've met a whole another person; as you stand in front of Matthias; pretty Matthias, with his flaxen hair, with his baby blue eyes that have only ever looked at you with softness from across lavish long-outstretching dining tables and at fancy soirees.

You want to learn more about him; it's now or never - he won't be long, just another few days or so. It's not your fault that his visit aligns with the holiday of love. There's always something in the air that makes people go crazy around this period of the year; old as time, this unstoppable force.

Would Matthias feel it too, despite that where he comes from spring is still far from arriving to awaken these slumbering feelings?

"Be your Valentine? That's right, the Rhodolitian holiday... my apologies, I am not familiar with the customs. I wouldn't want to accept your kind offer without knowing the conditions and thus eventually having to break your heart. Please do tell me what is expected of me."

Guardian of Laws, was it? He does have a penchant for following the rules strictly. You could tell him anything you want to at this point, let him find out on his own about your audacity post-factum when you would already have to say your goodbyes.

"No, I think— I think I would like to accept your gift. Don't tell me. You can understand this however you want to; I couldn't possibly refuse such a kind gesture. It's an honor for me to be your Valentine."

And just like that, rules are damned; and your heart is set ablaze.

∎Steal My Heart!! - xxsycamore’s 1500 followers celebration event| 💌 event masterlist

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri matthias #ikemen prince matthias #matthias asbrink #ikemen prince matthias asbrink #ikemen matthias #steal my heart!! xxsycamore's 1500 followers celebration event

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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Hello! Big fan of your blog, I'm really happy to see you ariund again, and I hope you're doing well!

I know you get a lot of questions about writing and comment, but do you maybe have any tips or advice for a writer struggling to respond to comments? I've managed to overcome being afraid to post, and I've received some lovely comments, but I got struck by a horrible new wave of anxiety that has me locking up when I want to reply to nice commenters. Now it's been a long time since the comments were made and I feel bad both for not answering more promptly but also for not posting since.

I hope that's okay to ask, I realized it may be a bit overly specific, and I apologize for that. ^^;

Oh anon, this isn't overly specific at all! You'd be surprised how many authors go through exactly this same thing, myself included.

I genuinely love responding to comments, and yet for the past several years it's been hard. Really hard. I still appreciate them. I still read and reread them. I still think about responding to them. I just... can't. My inbox grew to the size that just thinking about tackling the whole thing became totally overwhelming.

So instead, I just respond when I can.

When I'm rereading a fic and going back through the comments and I notice I didn't reply to one. When I get a comment notification in my email and I have a minute right then and I just type something right back. When I can't stop thinking about that question someone asked until I finally dig it out and answer it. When someone is just so lovely or friendly or enthusiastic, and I have the spoons to return their message in kind.

One thing I think it's important to remember is that a thank you or a heart emoji can go a long way to getting your message across. Another thing to remember is that a thank you can still be sincere when you've said it a thousand times.

We can really psych ourselves out of doing something by worrying about others judging us. But other people are often kinder to us than we are to ourselves. Ask most readers, and they don't care if a reply comes after 5 minutes or 5 months or 5 years. Hearing back from the author is appreciated - and if often prompts a reread of the fic.

Give yourself patience and understanding. Reply to the comments you're able to and forgive the ones you can't reply to yet. Maybe in time, you'll come back and have something to say. In the meantime, you can always add an end note to your fic saying that comments are appreciated and you'll reply when you can. ❤️

#asks and answers

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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Prompt:

Sam knew she was conceived before her parents marriage, but she never realized that that meant the father who raised her and her bio father might be different people. It's only now, after her parent's death, that she finds out she's the daughter of Dick Grayson, famed Gotham playboy.

In other news, Sam has, for several years now, been trying to figure out how to punch Nightwing in the face for being the one to dismiss Amity Park as a hoax in the Justice League database, preventing them from receiving help.

Now Dick's daughter that he didn't know he had is trying to murder him with evil magical plants screaming about how he's the reason her best friend had to work himself to the bone to protect their town, and Jason has a new favorite niece.

Oh this has been just hanging in my inbox for ages but hOLY shit this is some brilliant stuff right here. Sam being Dick’s daughter? That could be really fun to work with.

Dick is FLOORED when he finally connects the dots and is told that he has a daughter. He’s slightly distracted by this while Sam berates him.

‘You’re a fucking detective and you didn’t think for a moment to research this town that claimed to experience extradimensional attacks of hostile entities that are supposedly ghosts?! YOU HAVE ALIENS ON YOUR TEAM AND AN UNDEAD BROTHER?! Do you have any idea. Any at all how hard it is to take care of someone who’s so willing to throw it all away for the greater good?”

Nightwing saying that he does know because of Batman and Sam just INSTANTLY cutting him off.

“NO! No you don’t. That was a grown ass man who kept himself stuck in the grief of his parents death that he dresses up as a fucking bat and fights crime. I had to kill my best friend for a second time because I knew that not a single League member would come and help us. I had to watch as a boy who literally could not stop himself from taking action. Do you know how much pressure he was under?“

Ooo definitely also stuff like “you have no idea how many sleepless nights i had where I just called the JL hotline begging for someone to pick up as I cried to the echo of the cheery hold music that was a lie. No one was ever going to pick up but I hoped that someone would answer.”

Dick is distraught. He fucked up big time. He does what he normally does: run away for a tad.

It takes him a long time to wrap his head around having a kid and how badly he fucked up her life. He didn’t even know she existed and somehow he still managed to fuck up her life unintentionally.

EVENTUALLY Sam gets along with her bio dad. It takes a LONG time but eventually Dick genuinely apologizes and tells her that he had no idea that it was that bad and he should have done better. She absolutely sticks to Damian and Jason more before she warms up to Dick. (Mostly cause they’re the edgier and more ‘I’m my own self fuck u all’ batfam members).

Ooo and Ya know how Damian is with animals? Yeah that’s Sam with plants. Dick’s and Jason’s apartment are eventually absolutely FILLED with plants. She helps teach the two how to germinate plants and it becomes a nice bonding activity. (Oh and Jason absolutely brings Sam to the range for Uncle and Niece bonding experiences. Dick doesn’t approve but is happy how gleeful Sam is to learn from Jason.)

#anyways that’s my rant #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #sagaduwyrm

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whitedarkmoonflower · 9 months

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Hi, could you write something about Sihtric rescuing a princess (Alfred's daughter) and they both falling in love for each other despite the princess is about to marry somebody else.

Princess

Pairing: Sihtric x reader

Authors note: I must admit this request is already for some time in my inbox. I really hope you are still here to read it, dear Anon. Besides that my real life is a bit demanding right now (I mean it positively), I hesitated to start writing as I thought there are already so many fics about this. But when I finally started, there was no stopping 😅.

Warnings: mention of death, violence, and murder, fluff, angst and, yeah, I got a bit horny at the end, so SMUT, 18+, loss of virginity, sad ending. I am sorry, lately I am not good at happy endings.

Word Count: 7,904

Part 2 Good wife

You were sitting by the window in your room, gazing out at the courtyard. The entire palace buzzed around reminding you a bustling anthill. It had been today as your father had announced your betrothal, and the wedding was swiftly arranged to take place within a week. Such haste was quite out of the ordinary, but there was a compelling reason behind it. Wessex was bracing itself for an impending war. Harald Bloodhair, the recently emerged Danish warlord, was gathering his forces near the borders. Each passing day new warriors were joining him, and his army already exceeded thousand men. Alfred was eager to confront him before his army grew even stronger, but he needed allies. Wessex alone couldn’t bring up the sheer number of skilled and trained warriors necessary for the confrontation.

Lord Ethelwold, one of the wealthiest nobles in East Anglia, had long harboured intentions of marriage with you, but Alfred had thus far deemed him an unsuitable match for his youngest daughter. Lord Ethelwold was notorious for his lack of restrain when it came to drinking and whoring. He was arrogant, reckless, and rude, but he was wealthy, and he had men. His household troops alone numbered around three hundred men, but he could rise much more by rallying his vassals. The shift in circumstances had prompted a swift change in your father’s stance. The decision about your betrothal to Lord Ethelwold had been taken without hesitation and the revelation of it reached you on the very day it was announced in the church—namely, today.

You heard a gentle cough from behind, and a familiar voice greeted you “Good evening, Lady.”

Startled from your reverie, you turned your head slowly and discovered Sihtric standing there.

“I apologize if I have disturbed you. I simply wanted to inform you that I shall be on watch this night,” the soft yet resolute tone of your guardian angel’s voice brought a faint smile appear on your lips.

Sihtric had assumed the role of your bodyguard for the past two months shortly after Alfred's spies had confirmed the lingering rumours—namely, that Bloodhair had dispatched a bunch of warriors to Winchester with a cunning plan to abduct a hostage from the royal family. That was when you had first encountered Sihtric, one of Lord Uhtred’s most trusted warriors and a Dane himself. He had been appointed to ensure your safety, along with several other warriors sent by their respective lords at Alfred’s demand to provide protection for all members of the royal family. It was impossible not to notice the tall, robust, and muscular warrior with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, scars tracing his forehead and right cheek and the intensity in his big, mismatched eyes created an indelible impression. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness and strength emanated from him. You caught yourself thinking that if your life were indeed under genuine threat, you would undoubtedly prefer him by your side. There was an undeniable aura of reassurance surrounding him as he bowed and extended his greeting in that gentle yet unwavering voice of his: “My, Lady, the honour is mine.”

From that day onward, you were consistently accompanied by at least one of the guards, and during the night a sentry always stood watch by your chamber’s door.

To say the least, you found little enjoyment in this new arrangement. It was a nuisance and an additional burden, further restricting your already circumscribed life as a princess. You were not allowed to move around freely anymore. The guards frequently denied your requests to visit certain places if they deemed this too dangerous. While it was undoubtedly much easier to ensure your safety within the secure walls of the palace, this had inadvertently made you a prisoner in your own home. To you the guards were simply your prison warders, with one strange exception – Sihtric.

The calm and composed Dane appeared to be the only one to understand how you felt practically locked up in the palace. You quickly noticed that the other guards and even the servants regarded him with suspicion, sometimes even with feud. However, it seemed not to bother the young warrior who did not let his demeanor falter at the strange and suspicious glances others were casting at him. You were curious beyond borders about him, particularly since you had never seen a Danish warrior before. Yet you couldn’t deny that he had somewhat intimidating effect on you, especially considering all the different tales you had heard about Danes and their heathen ways. You had expected him to be harsh, surly, perhaps ill-tempered, or even rude and insolent. Instead, you found yourself profoundly taken aback by his gentle, respectful and humble comportment in your presence.

It was Sihtric who willingly joined you on your journey to your cherished spot by the river, where you enjoyed reading while he patiently leaned against a tree, waiting. He didn’t object when you desired to gather flowers from the meadow, and what was even more important, he agreed when you asked him to accompany you to the small orphanage maintained by the Convent of St. Cuthbert’s Sisters. This was a place you used to visit quite often before. You went there to see the children, to read something to them, to play and sing with them. This was a part of your life you were absolutely unwilling to give up. The children's bright eyes would light up upon your arrival, and their fondness for you was evident as they clung to your dress and hands, eagerly awaiting the small toys you always brought or the captivating tales you told them. It was something that filled you with deep joy as you felt needed and loved.

All your other guards had staunchly opposed your visits. The narrow street leading to the orphanage was obscured by barrels, hay bales, and other stuff. It was hidden from the sight of the patrolling guards overseeing the marketplace and the entrance to the palace. It was a perfect place for an ambush, they had explained to you, when you tried to insist. Yet, you kept asking, hoping that someone would consent to your heartfelt request. Then it was finally Sihtric’s turn to accompany you from the church to the palace and you silently prayed that he would understand you as he had done already before.

“There’s an orphanage just around the corner behind the church. It would mean a great deal to me if you would accompany me there,” you asked with a slightly trembling voice as this was apparently your last chance.

“An orphanage? The Lady wishes to visit an orphanage?” Sihtric's gaze held a mixture of surprise and inquiry, his raised eyebrows signalling his astonishment at your request.

“Yes, please. Would you come with me?” there was something in your voice that drew Sihtric’s attention–the pleading tone, suggesting how important it was for you. Curiosity piqued him as he wondered why a princess would want to visit an orphanage, so he nodded and followed you to the narrow street.

You spent what felt like two or more hours there. The children's joy at your presence was palpable, and you couldn't bring yourself to depart earlier. You had brought two small wooden toys – a horse and a warrior and you played with the children and told them stories about how knights in shiny armour fought dragons and rescued princesses in the past days. They were dirty, their clothes nothing more than rags, but that did not stop you from embracing them and cradling the smallest among them on your lap.

You laughed with them and sang with them and when it was finally time to leave, tears shimmered in your eyes. The sisters were doing their best to provide the children with shelter and meal, but there was never enough silver for that. To ease their burden, you contributed as much as you could spare. One might assume that being a princess meant being rich, but in truth you did not have your own silver and needed to seek your father’s approval for any expenditure.

Throughout your visit, Sihtric leaned against the door frame, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that, at times, made you slightly uncomfortable. However, you were deeply grateful that he had granted you this moment of joy.

“That was very kind of you,” you thanked him as you both returned to the palace and ascended toward your quarters.

Sihtric raised an eyebrow, a touch of surprise in his gaze as he regarded you.

“You are the first among the guards who allowed me to go there,” you explained, “But I truly miss the children… and…” you hesitated unsure how to approach him with your next request, fearing he would reject it as too dangerous.

“Would you mind accompanying me to visit the children more often? You’ve seen them–you must understand…” you struggled to find the right words to explain the depth of your feelings, but you did not need to. Sihtric's gaze held an understanding that needed no words.

“Lady, I would be delighted to accompany you,” he nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. To your surprise he arranged for himself to be your companion on every Saturday and Sunday, attending the morning sermons and thereafter visiting the orphanage.

Following another Sunday morning sermon, Sihtric walked alongside you as you turned onto the narrow street behind the church. You should have known that something was wrong from the very first steps—the children's usually audible voices were conspicuously absent today, but even if you were oblivious of the threat, Sihtric instantly noticed the change. Without warning his hand took hold of yours, slowing down your pace.

“Lady, we need to turn back,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Why? No, Sihtric, we can’t, you know…” you couldn’t finish your saying as suddenly a figure sprang before you from the rooftop of a nearby building with an unsheathed sword in the hand. Sihtric instantly shielded you, pulling behind him.

The man raised his sword and lunged towards Sihtric with a loud shout, but Sihtric had already anticipated his move. Stepping aside, he evaded the strike, causing the man’s sword to go down meeting no resistance. The man stumbled slightly, but that was enough for Sihtric. Seizing the moment and using his loss of balance, Sihtric’s hand closed around the man’s throat, while his other hand swiftly drew his dagger, fastened to his back. In a heartbeat the man dropped to his knees, chocking, his both hands pressed at his throat in a futile attempt to stop the gushing blood. You screamed in fear, and, in the next moment, more men materialised from the shadows of the small houses. Sihtric positioned himself again protectively in front of you.

“Lady, please remain behind me, I will protect you. Don’t run, as I don’t know how many men might be waiting further down the street,” his voice exuded a calm certainty that was both reassuring and astonishing. To your surprise you felt your breathing steadying and the dread that had already almost completely consumed you receding.

The subsequent events remained a fragmented blur in your memory. The men lunged at Sihtric, their weapons drawn, stabbing, chopping, and shouting incomprehensibly. It seemed to you that the time has slowed down as you watched how Sihtric danced around them parrying their attacks, kicking at them with his heavy boots, throwing them to the ground and chopping at them with his battle axe. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Sihtric turned to you, his face, armour, and hands stained with blood, as he took a step closer, concern etched into his features.

"Lady, are you unharmed? Are you injured?Please, speak to me!" he inquired, but you just stood there immobilized, eyes widened in sheer horror, gazing upon the lifeless forms strewn upon the street, blood pooling around them. It seemed to you that there was blood everywhere. You shivered, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. An eerie chill coursed through your body, rendering you frozen, uncapable to move, consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread. You felt Sihtric grabbing your hand, and as you still did not show any reaction to him, his strong arms wrapped around your trembling shoulders, pulling you close to his chest.

“It is over now,” he murmured into your ear, his gentle voice nudging you back to reality, “You are safe, I promise, I will not let anything happen to you,” his soft voice slowly began to lift your paralysis, gradually rousing you from your frozen state. His rough fingers caressed your hair, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Look at me, lady! Please, look at me,” he cupped your face in his palms, lifting your head until your eyes connected, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks, and Sihtric’s embrace tightened, your face pressed against to his wide chest, as you started sobbing uncontrollably, your face buried in his armour.

“Hush, hush, my little princess, my love. Everything is going to be fine,” his words resonated in your consciousness, piercing through the fog of fear, and leaving a burning sensation in your mind as you tried to grasp their meaning. You don’t know for how long you were standing there before you finally regained control over your sobs and became fully aware of your surroundings. Sihtric still held you in his strong arms, soothingly stroking your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. Suddenly, a profound sense of safety enveloped you, and as your tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, a faint smile tugged at your lips before your legs gave way and you lost your consciousness.

-----------------------------------------------------

It all had happened exactly two days ago. It is remarkable how swiftly everything can be turned upside down. A mere day ago, you were hilarious, brimming with joy and gratitude to the fate that had brought Sihtric into your life. You were sure that without him, you wouldn’t have survived the assault. Yet, now, as you sat by your window, observing the people busying around the yard below, you wished that the kidnappers had succeeded. Anything seemed better than the prospect of marrying Ethelwold, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Thank you, Sihtric,” you responded quietly and turned away in an attempt to hide your tears, but it was too late. Sihtric had already noticed you had been crying. His big, mismatched eyes filled with sympathy as he took a step closer.

“Lady, I regret deeply what happened. I’m sorry that you had to witness it. I assure you that you are safe now. I will not let anything happen to you,” Sihtric’s voice was filled with compassion and genuine care. His words were soft, laced with reassurance, and you found no reason to doubt him. After all, the young warrior had found a special place within your heart long before the dreadful incident.

Initially it was pure curiosity, that made you feel drawn to him, evolving into a genuine awe, that eventually grew into tender affection and sweet longing. The shift happened gradually as the thoughtful and quite warrior slowly opened to you, revealing different layers of his personality – the loyalty, the warmth, the kindness, all concealed behind the rugged exterior. The realisation of your own feelings for the handsome young Dane came even more slowly. You had never felt anything like this before and not to forget – you were a princess. Falling in love with a Dane, heathen and warrior, was out of question for you. But the longer you tried to deny your feelings, the stronger they grew with each passing day. Still, you successfully managed to suppress them until that dreadful assault in the narrow street. You did not know what unsettled you more – the close encounter with death or the emotional surge that overtook you as Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped you, pressing to his chest and caressing your hair. All you wished for was to prolong that moment indefinitely, to remain cradled within Sihtric’s embrace, melt into it, and let the world around you fade away. The realisation that most probably this will never happen again as you were going to be married in a week time, made your heart ache in almost physical, tangible pain.

“Oh, Sihtric, please! There’s truly no need for you to apologise. I am immensely grateful for what you did. It’s me who should be apologising to you for my foolishness, for doubting that the threat was real. If I hadn’t insisted on visiting the orphanage, if I had remained within the palace, none of this would have happened,” your voice was barely audible as you spoke.

You wanted to scream, to beg him to save you once again, to take you away from this palace and your wretched life as a princess and now even worse – as a peace cow to be married away to the most disgusting man you have ever seen. Yet, you remained silent as you knew that it was not in his power to free you from your destiny.

You continued to gaze out the window, ignoring Sihtric, who observed you with a perplexed expression. Something was certainly wrong; he just couldn’t figure out what it was. First seeing your sad and teared eyes, he thought you must be still startled by the events the day before. However, your composed response hinted him that something else had happened in between.

Initially, when Sihtric was assigned the role of a bodyguard for Alfred’s daughter, he was far from being pleased. He was a warrior and not a babysitter. Nonetheless, Uhtred insisted and Sihtric presented himself before Alfred, hoping that the king might reject him anyway. Much to his astonishment, that did not happen. Perhaps, Alfred deemed it prudent to have a Dane among the guards of his daughter, as it was reasonable to expect that the assaulters will probably be Danes as well. This however did not make the others trust or even like Sihtric. Not that this surprised him; he was used to that. What did surprise him was your non-judgemental attitude. He had expected you to despise him, even to hate him. After all, what else could he anticipate from a princess brought up in a place where everybody seemed to hate Danes. His awe knew no bounds when you greeted him on that very first day with a warm and genuine smile.

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and nothing in your behaviour made him feel despised or unwanted. Quite the opposite. Swiftly, he found himself growing fond of you – his little princess, as he called you in his thoughts. You were cheerful, full of energy and treated everybody around you with equal warmth and kindness. Your liveliness was contagious, and Sihtric noticed how his mood inexplicably lifted in your presence. Your genuine interest in him, without a hint of suspicion or prejudice, touched a chord within him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and for the first time, he felt at ease sharing with someone fragments of his life. Your unpretentious and unburdened smile was the last thing that lingered in his mind before he drifted off to sleep each night. Sihtric thought you beautiful, not only in your physical appearance, but in the very essence of your being. Beautiful and utterly unreachable.

The first time Sihtric consciously noticed that his affection had evolved into something more profound and powerful was during your visit to the orphanage. Standing in the doorway, he leaned against the frame, watching you playing with the children. A profound and unexplainable warmth filled his heart, captivating him. His gaze remained locked on you, as if he were drinking in the aura of the love and tenderness that radiated from your being. In that moment, a realisation struck him that he would willingly do anything to witness your unbridled happiness. But even then, he managed to dismiss the feeling as being foolish, naïve, and impossible. Falling in love with a princess appeared to him as the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

The moment he knew he had utterly lost his inner struggle, when he could no longer deny the intensity of his love for you, occurred in the aftermath of that brief battle. The mere thought that you might be injured and hurt terrified him to the extent that all rationality left him. In that moment he completely forgot everything as he enfolded you in a protective embrace, drawing you close to his chest, cradling and soothing you. The memory of that moment remained etched in his mind. The sensation of oblivion enveloped him as he tenderly stroked your hair, breathed in your delicate aroma, and felt the velvety touch of your skin against his fingertips.

------------------------------------------------

“Your services will no longer be required after one more week,” Sihtric was caught by surprise by the sudden announcement from the chief guard. “The lady is soon to be wed and will depart for her husband’s estate.”

“The lady is to be married?” Sihtric repeated in surprise as the news slowly sank into his consciousness. His “little princess” was getting married. He had always known his feelings were impossible, a sheer madness beyond comprehensible, he was fully aware of the unlikelihood of them being reciprocated. However, he hadn’t anticipated this fairy tale to end so swiftly and abruptly.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. It was meant to end anyway. Better sooner than later, before the last remnants of my common sense have faded away,” he thought to himself, clenching his fists tightly, his chuckles turning white under the strain.

The remaining week leading up to the wedding passed for Sihtric in somewhat like an indistinct haze. He found no opportunity to speak to you or even to see you. The walks by the riverside had ceased, no more flower-picking in the meadow, not even strolls within the garden. You remained within the palace, always surrounded by attendants, your mother – the queen herself – a constant presence at your side, willing to discuss every single detail of the upcoming wedding, be it the attire, jewellery, floral arrangements, or the feast. Oddly, Sihtric couldn't help but think that this was perhaps a blessing in disguise. What could he possibly say to you? Confess his imprudent feelings and elicit a pitying smile? That wasn't what he wanted. The only sensible thing to do was to maintain distance and to leave the palace as soon as possible, before his emotions would grow stronger, as they were already inflicting considerable pain.

Finally, all was settled. With Alfred’s consent Sihtric was set to depart on the morrow - the day before the wedding. In truth Sihtric was relieved, as he was glad, he would not have to watch the ceremony. His meager belongings were packed neatly in a saddlebag, resting upon a chair within his modest room at the tavern. He had not been given a room in the palace and had stayed at the tavern his lodging paid by the king. He was ready to retire for the night; his leather armour draped across a chair, his weapons arranged upon the table. It was in this moment that an unexpected knock echoed through the room, startling Sihtric. He hesitated as he was not expecting anybody at such a late hour. The knock repeated, prompting him to pull the latch and swing the door open with an annoyed look on his face, only to be met by a silhouette hidden beneath a dark cape.

“What the hell…” he exclaimed in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger on his back, only to discover it was not there this time, laying on the table amid his other weapons.

“May I come in?” the voice emanating from beneath the cape sent Sihtric's heart racing. It was a voice both familiar and cherished, a voice he had believed he might never hear again. Overwhelmed by disbelief, Sihtric took a step back, allowing the cloaked figure to enter his chamber, and then quietly closed the door behind.

“I heard you are departing,” the voice spoke with a hint of reproach, as two delicate hands took off the hood revealing the bearer of the voice, his “little princess”. To say that Sihtric was surprised would be an understatement. He stood frozen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as if attempting to dispel a dream, an impossible illusion conjured by his own fevered mind. Your eyes studied Sihtric, registering that he was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in his breeches. You swallowed hard as your eyes traced the contours of his bare chest. Awkwardness hung heavily in the air, a palpable silence enveloping the room as neither of you moved or uttered a word. Regret, like an unwelcome visitor, began to creep into your thoughts. What were you even doing here? A royal daughter, a princess of Wessex, standing alone in the presence of a half-dressed man – a Dane and a heathen, no less.

The sheer absurdity of the situation struck you, making you shiver in embarrassment under the cape.

"I've been dismissed, my lady. With your father's approval, I am returning to Cochem," Sihtric finally broke the silence, his voice striving to remain casual, though it was almost impossible.

“You didn’t even wish to bid me farewell?” your eyes continued scanning Sihtric’s appearance, seeking something within his demeanour, a concealed sign, any trace that would hint to you, that your impulsive decision to come here might not be as foolish as your common sense suggested. Your gaze lingered on his arms, recalling how they had embraced you, before moving to his hands. You could almost feel the tender pressure of his fingers against your skin, his touch caressing your cheek. There had been an undeniable gentleness in his actions, a softness and affection woven into his words. Or had you just imagined it all? You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. There was no rational explanation for your presence here; you were merely making a complete fool of yourself.

“You were preoccupied with wedding preparations, my lady. And besides, who am I to encroach upon your precious time? I apologise if I have offended you; that was never my intent. I merely did not wish to bother you,” it took Sihtric all his inner strength to maintain his composure and stay calm. Yet there was something in his voice that caught your attention.

“No, no! No offence taken! It’s just… I wanted to express my gratitude once more for saving my life,” you stumbled over your words, your voice growing almost inaudible as you added, “And I won’t forget what you said to me afterward.”

Sihtric raised his eyebrow, well aware of what he had said to you. He had been berating and cursing himself for his impulsive words ever since they left his lips. He had felt relieved as it seemed that you had been too shocked at that moment to register his words, but now it was evident that they had not gone unnoticed. Sihtric’s expression changed instantly, his gaze dropping to the floor in an attempt to escape the contact with your eyes, but not fast enough as you caught a glimpse of the mingled pain and humiliation shadowing his features.

“Lady, please believe me. I never intended to be disrespectful toward you,” Sihtric’s voice trembled with emotion as he continued to avoid direct eye contact with you, “Please forgive me if my words, spoken in a moment of deep concern for your safety, made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no! No, they didn’t. I just needed to … I wanted to ask if you truly meant what you said,” your heart raced within your chest as you took a hesitant step closer, reaching out to clasp Sihtric's hand, as though afraid he might vanish before providing the answer you so desperately sought.

“Lady, please don’t,” Sihtric’s voice wavered as he tried to withdraw his hand, a mixture of apprehension and longing in his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me say something, I’ll regret for the rest of my days, even if it’s true.”

“Sihtric, I am losing my mind all this week, thinking that it all was merely a cruel creation of my imagination,” your own audacity startled you. You were almost confessing your feelings to a near stranger, a man you hardly knew and would likely never see again.

“My little princess, my love,” Sihtric slowly repeated the words with a heavy sigh, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours, “I meant every single word, my lady. There’s no escape for me. Regardless of where I go or what happens to me, I will always love you,” the pain laced in Sihtric’s voice was palpable. He loved you, knowing that there was no future for you both. Worlds separated you – a Saxon princess destined to wed an East Anglian nobleman, and him - an outsider, a despised Dane, a heathen, and a warrior with nothing to offer apart from life in perpetual danger and suspense. Despite it all, he found himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from you. Unconsciously, his fingers entwined with yours as you still hadn’t let go of his hand, and his forehead drew near slowly touching yours.

The world spun around you, the weight of Sihtric’s words finally sinking in, a burning sensation coursing through you, just like the first time you heard them. He loved you. It was neither a dream, not a cruel gameplay of your overheated mind. He loved you. In this very moment it was all that mattered. Those few words had changed your entire universe.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in and pressed your lips to Sihtric's. The kiss was tentative, your inexperience evident in the gentle brush of your lips against his, but it made all the last remnants of common-sense crumble in Sihtric’s mind as he responded with a fervour of a starving man savouring a long-awaited feast. His lips and tongue melded with yours, an intoxicating dance of desire and need. Sihtric’s kiss was soft, yet demanding, his lips brushing, sucking, and gently biting yours with ravenous eagerness and passion, leaving you breathless. Your head was spinning, and dizziness enveloped you as you yielded to his passion. You closed your eyes and your lips parted in a soft moan against his mouth. Sihtric's tongue slipped into your mouth, a hungry exploration that set your heart racing. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer, the heat of his touch searing through your skin. The kiss was an inferno of love, warmth, and raw emotion that left you gasping for air, lost in a realm of sensation you had never experienced before, and you wished for it to continue indefinitely.

Reality crashed upon Sihtric like a tidal wave, jolting him from the whirlwind of desire. With an abrupt motion, he broke the kiss, pulling away from you. His hand cupped your chin, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to regain his composure.

“Princess, this is madness,” his voice trembled, his eyes shut, his breath ragged. “Please, don’t do this to me. Do not awaken hope when there is none. You must leave, now, before your absence is discovered.”

Your gaze remained locked on him, your heart pounding, unable to say anything or even gather your thoughts from the intensity of emotions that swirled through you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand grazing his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his skin. Being this close to him made you shiver.

“I can’t…, I don’t want to,” you whispered, your voice a delicate plea. “Sihtric, please… This is my last night of my already so limited freedom, and I want to spend it with you. I want you to be the first man to touch me, to make love to me. Please, don’t reject me.”

There it was, laid bare before him, the true reason you had come, the decision you had made, dismissed and taken again during the last sleepless nights until it had transformed in firm resolve.

Your life had always been predetermined and dictated by obligations and duty; your choices limited by being a king’s daughter. You had accepted that. You knew that the alliance with Lord Ethelwold was necessary for Wessex to stand up against the Danes and you were indeed willing to bring that sacrifice by marrying him. However, there was one decision in your life that you were not willing to allow to be taken from you. And that was the reason you had come, driven by a fervent hope that the man you had irrevocably fallen in love with might feel the same way.

Slowly you untied your cape and let it drop to the floor, your gaze locked with Sihtric’s. His pupils grew wider, and his breath fastened as you placed your hands on his bare chest, letting your fingers travel down to his stomach in a tender brush. You hesitated a moment when your fingers reached his waist and the hem of his breaches and Sihtric quickly seized your hands and raised them to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on your palms.

“Princess, please, stop before it’s too late,” Sihtric leaned in closer and buried his face in your neck breathing in your scent, his fingers intertwining with yours “I am flattered, I truly am. But you don’t understand what you are asking from me.” Sihtric closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on your neck and then another one on your jaw, feeling painfully strained in his breeches. He desired you, no, he craved for you beyond imaginable. Your smell, your breath against his skin, your soft lips, and the feel of your body so close to him and yet so unreachable and forbidden drew him to madness. His mind told him to step back, to let go of you, but he couldn’t. With all his willpower he tried to suppress the urge to kiss you again, knowing that if he did, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself anymore.

“I am asking you to save me from misery and grant me the freedom of choice. I want to feel love and desire, even if that’s only for one single night. My future husband is far away from being a fairy tale prince. Can you imagine what will be my first night with him? I can, I am not that naïve as you think of me, Sihtric,” you pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, making Sihtric groan loudly, lust and desire consuming him.

Sihtric’s lips found yours and crushed against them with the same unsatiable hunger as before, setting your mind on fire. His hands moved down to your waist, holding you firmly pressed against his muscular body, and you were melting in his strong embrace, feeling a shiver going down your spine and your legs getting week and wobbly. He made a step forward pressing you against the door, his lips traveling down to your jaw and then further to you neck, placing greedy wet open-mouthed kisses on their way, while his hands started tugging the laces of your dress with fumbling fingers. You couldn’t help but smile in anticipation as you helped him to untie and unlace everything until the dress slid down your shoulders and dropped to the ground, revealing your naked upper body, and leaving you only with your ruffled silk underpants. Sihtric’s eyes studied your body for a moment, drinking in all the small details, lines, and curves and then his lips were back on your neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, placing soft gentle kisses down to your breasts, licking and sucking gently at your hard aroused nipples. A strange burning sensation settled in your lower body and slowly consumed you, blurring your mind and vision, making you whine in pleasure your fingers trailing Sihtric’s back.

“Princess, are you sure, you want this?” Sihtric’s hoarse voice reached through your dizzied mind. You wanted to say something, but not a sound came out of your dry throat, overpowered by the overwhelming sensation of Sihtric’s touch on your body you just moaned tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Say it! I need to hear it,” Sihtric demanded, whispering in your ear as his hands slowly trailed down to your waist and started untangling the lace that was holding your underpants.

“Yes, I want it. I need it. I want you,” you finally managed to form the words, tugging harder at his hair. Your answer sounded like a desperate plea. You were already flying from the touch of his lips and hands on your body and were eager for more. You wanted him. You burned for him. You loved him and trusted him. A lustful smile curled on your lips, hearing Sihtric groan as he kneeled before you, pulling down your legs the last remaining peace of clothe covering you and revealing you completely naked before him.

“My princess, my sweet little princess, you are so breath-taking beautiful. This must be a dream, but I don’t want to wake from it,” he murmured against your skin pressing his nose to your cunt, breathing in your smell, and placing a soft kiss on it. Waves of heat washed all over your body. You had never felt anything comparable to this before.

Sihtric rose to his feet and lifted you in his strong arms with no effort at all. He cradled you to his chest and carried to his bed, placing you gently down and positioning himself beside you, his hand touching your cheek and turning your head to face him.

“If you change your mind, princess, if you want me to stop, just say it. You can stop me anytime. This is all about you tonight. You are in charge, don’t forget it,” Sihtric said quietly, but seriously. “Do you understand? Tell me!” he insisted, locking his gaze with yours.

“Yes, I do. I trust you,” you whispered back, cupping his face with both hands and leaning closer to kiss him. You started by moving your lips gently along his and in the very moment Sihtric’s lips parted as he answered your kiss, your tongue slid into his mouth. Eager to show him what a good learner you are, you licked hungrily into his mouth, your tongue finding his, curling around it, sucking at it, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Sihtric kissed you back with the same passion, setting the world around you in spiralling motion again. He broke the kiss, earning a disappointing whimper from you, a lustful smile on his lips.

“I want to show you something, my love,” he purred in your ear, moving his body over yours, parting your legs and positioning himself between your thighs. His mouth started travelling down your neck to your breasts and further down to your stomach, placing soft kisses all over your body on its way. He did not stop there, his body moved further down between your legs, his mouth continuing to place soft kisses on its way now reaching your inner thigh. You stiffened from the unfamiliar sensation that filled you.

“Relax, my little princess. You will enjoy it, believe me,” Sihtric murmured, his lips moving closer and closer to your core until his wet tongue slid over your clit, licking further through you folds. You moaned heavily, digging your nails in the bedsheets, grabbing them with full force and arching your back off the mattress in obscene pleasure, as Sihtric continued devouring you, his tongue circling your clit, licking and sucking it. His soft moans against your core let you know he was enjoying it as much as you did. Your hips started to move frantically, uncontrollably against his tongue, your climax building up quickly and just as you thought there can’t be any rise in the pleasure washing over you, you felt Sihtric pushing a finger inside you.

“Oh my God!” you whimpered.

“Does it feel good, my princess?” Sihtric murmured.

“God! Sihtric! It feels divine,” you cried out as he continued to move his finger in and out of you, his tongue never leaving your clit. It was the last bit you needed to reach your peak. It washed over you in an overwhelming wave, making you cry out Sihtric’s name, pure bliss pulsing through your veins. Sihtric’s hands took hold of your hips, holding you steady in the place, his tongue continuing licking and sucking at your already over sensitive pearl. You wanted to escape him, to move away from his tongue, but he did not let you, holding you firmly until you surrendered yourself to him feeling another wave of pleasure building up and washing over you even more intense as the first one.

“Common, little princess, you can make it one more time for me. You can be loud. Don’t be afraid. I adore those wonderful sounds you make,” Sihtric hummed, pushing two fingers deep inside you and continuing to fuck you slowly with his fingers his mouth never letting go of your pussy. And you came again against his tongue and fingers, with your lips parted as you screamed out your pleasure.

“I think you are ready now. I am so sorry. It might hurt, my love, but I will be gentle,” Sihtric breathed in your ear, undoing his breeches, releasing at last his stone hard cock and placing it at your entrance.

“Princess, do you want me to?” he asked.

“Yes, Sihtric! Yes! I want to. Please, take me,” you begged. Receiving your permission Sihtric started to push slowly inside you, his thumb circling your clit. It hurt, he was so big, stretching you painfully. You buried your fingers in the bedsheets, trying to hide the pain, not wanting him to notice, but a pained whimper escaped your lips. Sihtric stopped immediately.

“Do you want me to stop? Princess, look at me! Just tell me to stop, and I will,” his voice so full of genuine concern made you want him even more. You craved for him and wanted to pleasure him just as he did it for you just before. You shook your head.

“No, I want you. Just give me a moment to adjust,” you pleaded and Sihtric leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

“I love you, my little princess. I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that,” he whispered, as his lips descended on your nipples, sucking gentle at them, and setting you on fire again.

“Sihtric, take me! Don’t hold back. I need you! You are the best, that could ever happen to me,” you murmured, placing your hands on his hips and trying to pull him towards you.

Sihtric resumed his movement pushing further inside you and you screamed out shortly as you felt him forcing into you until the very end of his length, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Husch, my love. That’s it, you have me,” Sihtric whispered kissing away your tears as you felt something warm dripping down your thigh. Before you even managed to register what had happened, he pulled out and pushed slowly back again into you, and then again and again, his pace slow and gentle in the beginning, but fastening with every thrust, transforming still lingering pain into absolute, indescribable pleasure as his length stretched and filled you, making you mewl and whine under the movements of his hips against yours. Your nails were digging into Sihtric’s back as you tried to hold onto him, and your hips started to move against his making him thrust even deeper into you.

“You take me so good,” Sihtric groaned, continuing his movements, his breath getting faster, “You are perfect, just made for me and I love you so much!” he murmured softly against your mouth, kissing you jerky.

“Oh my God, Sihtric! It feels so good! You feel so good!” you breathed out, wanting to praise him, to let him know how good he was to you, your breath getting faster and shallower with each trust, your obscure moans filling the room and mingling with Sihtric’s grunts.

“Cum for me, little princess. I want you to cum on my cock, screaming my name.” Sihtric hissed, locking his gaze with yours, “Let yourself fly! I am holding you,” his hips kept rutting against yours, his breath heavy and unsteady, being close to his own high. He wetted his thumb with his tongue and moved it to your clit, rubbing it gently and with that last touch he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm, the fourth and the most intense in this night, hit you like a heavy storm. You felt your inner walls clench around Sihtric’s cock as the waves of pleasure and relief washed over you, making your body shake and tremble against his as you came moaning loudly, arching your back and crying out his name in pure bliss. Sihtric continued to fuck you slowly through your orgasm, letting you savour each and every wave of pleasure, his eyes drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath him.

“You are so good to me. I am so close, my love,” he whispered, “I will not cum inside you if you do not want to,” he whispered his nose nuzzling at your neck.

“Sihtric! My love! I want you, all of you, everything of you,” you moaned grabbing his hips and pushing yourself against him. This was all he needed, a few more thrusts and he came instantly with a loud growl, spilling himself deep inside you, pressing you into the mattress with his weight as he collapsed over you, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. You stayed so for a while, your arms around him, your fingers brushing through his hair, his lips placing soft kisses on you neck and shoulder. With a heavy sigh Sihtric pulled out and laid beside you, his arms still around your waist, pulling you closer to him, cradling you in the crook of his body.

“Stay with me,” he purred into your ear, his voice dripping with longing “I know this is madness, princess. This entire night is a whirlwind of madness.”

“Sihtric, I can’t,” you replied, your voice a fragile whisper. “I love you, and that will never change. But I can’t. My father… Wessex … we need that alliance,” your heart ached at these words.

“I love you too, my little princess,” Sihtric’s voice was hoarse. “There will never be another in my life. I am all yours, and I will be waiting for you,” the seriousness and confidence in Sihtric’s voice made you shiver. You turned to face him, your lips trembling as they met his in a tender kiss.

“I can’t ask that from you,” you whispered, cupping his cheek.

“That’s not just a promise; it’s a certainty, my love,” Sihtric's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. “I will wait for you, and whether in this life or the next, you will be mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you rested against his strong chest, feeling the truth of his words echoing in your mind.

Part 2 Good wife

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #tlk #the last kingdom #tlk fic #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric fanfic #tlk fanfic

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space-mermaid-writing · 11 days

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I didn't realise you are the author of vamp and the were! Love the fic and how unique it is. And so fun to read. Thank you for writing it.

A generic hospital prompt for ironstrange. I know its generic but its fascinating to see how different its interpreted and also since its canon that as characters both of them have a distaste for it. It can be taken so many ways. I leave it upto you unless you want me to be more specific :)

Thank you! I'm happy you liked The Vamp And The Were <3

For your generic hospital prompt I went with pre-powers. If you had something more specific in mind, feel free to drop that in my inbox. Until then you get a Tony who picks up Stephen at work for a lunch :)

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 0.5k

It was safe to say that Tony hated hospitals. He had never been a fan of doctors who were way too eager to check and touch his body. He didn’t like it as a kid when he was sick and his parents called them, and he still didn’t like them now. Hospitals were even worse; with the ever present smell of antiseptic and their overall aesthetic of white and gray.

The fact that Tony had just entered a hospital voluntarily was nothing short of a miracle. He wasn’t in actual need of medical attention, so that was a plus. No, he was here to pick up a certain doctor.

Tony took the elevator to the fifth floor. He knew the way to the surgeon’s floor by heart.

Curious glances still followed him – something that would never change no matter where he went. But he also got some friendly nods from members of the staff who were by now used to his visits. Tony returned them, even if the sunglasses on his nose hid his lack of interest.

Tony tolerated being here. But only because of one man.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to the office.

Halfway he heard the familiar deep voice as Stephen stepped out of it, talking to a nurse. When he noticed Tony his face lit up noticeably.

Tony smiled. This was what made it worth it to endure being in a hospital. And he liked having this effect on the doctor. It stirred something in his belly; feelings he wasn’t yet ready to deal with. So he shoved them deeper down.

The nurse seemed confused about his reaction and followed his gaze. As soon as her eyes landed on the approaching Tony, she understood.

“I’m here to pick you up for our meeting, Doctor Strange.” That was their code for a lunch date. Tony knew Stephen preferred to keep their relationship professional in front of co-workers and Tony respected that. Except in the presence of Christine, who called them out on their bullshit. And she often sided with Tony; one of the reasons he liked her so much.

Stephen handed the chart he was carrying to the nurse. “Take that to Doctor Robinson for the blood test.”

“Yes, Doctor Strange.” The nurse left, not without throwing an amused and knowing smile at Tony.

Only when she was gone Stephen spoke again, keeping his voice down. “A surgery came in an hour. A transfer from Huntington with a pituitary tumor. The transnasal transsphenoidal operation has to be done.“ It almost sounded like an apology – only that Stephen didn’t do apologies.

„We can go to Papa John’s down the street and you can take your book for the read up of the case with you. It will just be a quickie.” Tony winked at him. He knew any surgery that Stephen was involved with would take at least a few hours and Tony felt better knowing he had eaten beforehand.

Stephen scoffed because Tony had brought that innuendo into his workplace. A quick look around reassured him that no one was within earshot. He thought about the offer. “Alright, I’ll get my coat,” he then agreed.

Tony had already learned that Stephen had a hard time refusing Tony’s offers – as long as they were well-thought-out and convenient.

He followed Stephen into his office. Maybe he could convince him into another kind of quickie before lunch as well.

#IronStrange #tony stark #doctor strange #tony stark x doctor strange #ask prompt #prepower #date #SpaceMermaid #Spacemermaid writes #marvel #stephen strange x tony stark #short #oneshot

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obae-me · 1 year

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(scrambling into your inbox like a small dog slipping on hardwood floors) hi hello !! i'm so glad to see you've returned recently (i've been rereading your masterlist & brainrotting abt upside down so much lately). i was wondering if I could request something about lucifer with an adhd mc? maybe mc feeling like they have to mask around him - since he has such a strong preference for order & peace, and worries that by being their unfiltered chaotic self he'd find them too loud/excitable/annoying/dramatic/too much/etc. or if that's too specific, just something more general abt how he interacts w an adhd mc? i hope this makes sense & isn't too vague ^^" if you're not familiar with the topic or otherwise don't wanna do this request no pressure of course!! i just thought I'd ask; in my head you are the official lucifer expert, i adore the way you characterize him (and how you write in general holy shit i eat up everything you post. good food). either way, thank you for sharing your work with us, and i hope you're having a lovely day/night/time zone <3

Of course I can do something like this!

Of course, I want to put a mini disclaimer that I don’t claim to be an expert on ADHD, and while I’m going to do my best, I apologize if things don’t quite line up as they should!

I hope you enjoy, anon, I hope this is along the lines of what you were looking for! And thank you so much for the kind words and praise, you’re so sweet <3

___________________________________________

It didn’t take long to realize that Lucifer would be...a problem.

It took MC not even a full day in the Devildom to get it in their head that they would have to put all their energy into focusing while he was around. Focus on their expression, on their words, on their actions. Just look at the way he treated Mammon and Levi...They didn’t want to imagine him turning that exhausted fed-up expression in their direction.

So they followed their rules that they had set in place for themselves for this kind of thing. Stay quiet. Stay still. Stay...”normal”. They didn’t want to have someone else tell them how abnormal they were...it had happened too many times already in the human realm...

Of course, after a while, as they got closer to the other demon brothers, they felt more comfortable with not having to just nod their head and wait till they were prompted to speak. Especially with Mammon and Levi, since it seemed they understood them so well. Who knew Mammon had all sorts of trinkets to fiddle with during classes? And Levi actually encouraged them to come in and info-dump about their hyperfixations without fear of being shut down.

The other brothers took a little longer to get used to. They all still tended to roll their eyes at Mammon’s short attention span and Levi’s long-winded obsessions, so MC did their best to keep those to a minimum. Even so, the longer they were down there, the more Satan enjoyed listening to their rants about certain stories, and Asmo found it adorable when they kept fidgeting so much, their freshly painted nails were ruined. After all, he could just paint them again! And the twins? Well, Beel really didn’t find any personality frustrating, after all, he loves all of his brothers. Belphie --despite all his teasing-- didn’t really care either. He’d tease them no matter what they were like.

And with Lucifer...he just only seemed to make things worse.

“Keep your room clean, it can’t be good for you surrounded by so much clutter,” he had told them upon visiting their room for the first time after they’d felt like they finally had settled in...and he had said that after they already spent a few hours cleaning it. It wasn’t good enough. In another instance, Lucifer had asked them to take out the kitchen trash. They agreed to doing it, but then got distracted when Mammon came in to talk to them. The next day, Lucifer was less than pleased to find they had forgotten about it completely. “What do you mean you forgot about it? Why didn’t you go and do it immediately then?” It had been an accident...Sometimes they have to set a timer for these sorts of things.

They gave up on trying to express themselves around him completely one night at dinner. He was talking about some of his records, and seemed rather pleased about it. Even his brothers were keeping the teasing and noise to a minimum...and MC had to go and ruin it. They had just gotten...excited. They could finally relate to Lucifer with this one thing...and their mouth shared their thoughts before Lucifer was finished...He glared at them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had finished speaking.” He despised being interrupted. MC simply slumped in their seat, trying to hide from sight, trying not to take up space.

So they pulled away from him. Avoided him. Distanced themselves to keep themselves safe. There was simply no way they’d be able to get along. This was better for the both of them. If he asked them questions, they’d give him simple answers. If for some reason, he asked to do something with them, they would politely say they had other plans. If he tried to come into their room, they would shove certain items under their bed and push all the stray clutter into a junk drawer. And more than that, they would not say a word to him until they were asked.

Yet...all this work to be “normal”, all the effort to be exactly what he wanted them to be, and it still wasn’t enough. In fact, this new behavior only made him more upset. He could tell they were intentionally avoiding him, and now they’d wounded his pride.

So he confronted them...and he caught them when they had no more energy left to play the perfect human.

The door to their bedroom opened quietly. To be fair, he did knock before entering, but the human either didn’t hear it or didn’t respond. They were sitting on their bed in the dark, humming, suddenly putting down their D.D.D. when they noticed him come in. With a quick movement, they tried to tidy up a few things they had on their floor before they turned on a bedside lamp. Their eyes looked dead-tired, and yet they still gave a weak smile, doing their best to be polite.

“L-Lucifer, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were coming in.” They looked around the rest of their room with a bit of panic. They hadn’t been expecting him. “I was planning on cleaning up in a bit, just trying to...finish a few things.” They kept fidgeting nervously, picking at a loose thread on their comforter. “Can I help you with something?”

He folded his arms a bit, taking note of the skittish behavior. “It’s imperative that we have a discussion.”

If that wasn’t one of the most anxiety inducing ways to start a conversation...”O-okay,” they stuttered. “What about?”

Before he went forward with talking, he pulled out a chair they kept by the table in their room. He dragged it over to be across from the bed before seating himself in it, his legs crossed, hands over his knee. “Your behavior as of late has me concerned.”

They looked a bit crestfallen, rubbing at their forehead as they thought, keeping their words to themselves. “Okay.” They waited for the lecture, already prepared to just agree with whatever he said. It was easier that way.

“I can’t help but wonder if it’s from a guilty conscious.” He looked at MC curiously. He couldn’t directly say that being purposefully eluded bothered him. Sure, he was colder than his other brothers, but he was a gentleman, working hard to make sure MC was taken care of. He couldn’t recall doing anything specific to bother them, so he could only come to one conclusion. “Are you hiding something from me? It’ll be easier if you tell me now.”

What were they supposed to say to that? Already he just automatically assumed they did something wrong...They were so tired of this...”I didn’t do anything,” they sighed putting their head in their hands.

“Then what is it? If you are unhappy with the way things are here, I need a report made to me and Diavolo so we can work on the problem--”

“I’m the problem!” They don’t know where it came from, once again they said something before they could think about it. It had been a statement lingering in their mind for a while. Realizing they had interrupted him again, they looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Lucifer, stunned at the sudden outburst, put his hand to his chest. His eyes narrowed, but he seemed a bit confused. “What do you mean you are the problem?”

“I can’t be who I am without upsetting you, and I can’t act different without upsetting you either.” They pressed at their temples, eyes almost filling up with tears, but they kept them from falling. “I don’t know who to be around you.”

He went silent, the facts all falling together as he started to work out what they were saying. “You don’t have to create a false character for me. You don’t think I would prefer your honesty?”

“That’s the thing, you don’t! When Mammon gets fidgety, you tell him to stop. When someone forgets something, you call them an idiot. When Levi talks about something he’s passionate about, you all agree to ignore him. How am I supposed to be myself when I know I’ll get disappointed looks and weird stares? I can’t help it! I can’t help who I am! I’ve tried! So hard! Don’t you think sometimes I just want to be like other people?” MC felt a bit breathless at the sudden raise of their voice. They calmed themselves, suddenly going silent. They’d said too much now. They had done it again...

Lucifer tightened his jaw. He was used to upsetting people, to making people angry, especially his brothers. He even got a rise out of it most times. But this felt different. He could look at this human and feel their exhaustion. You don’t think sometimes he feels the same? Having to keep up appearances for himself, for his family, for the realm, for Diavolo? If he wasn’t already used to the stress and the pressure, he would more than likely crack too. Yet, this went beyond just simple appearances. He should’ve seen the signs. Now as for what to say...For once he struggled with the words. “I see,” he finally spoke. “And so you’ve been avoiding me out of fear that I would think less of you?”

“You already do,” they muttered.

If there was anything that bothered him, that would be it. He tried to collect himself. “Please, do not assume.” He emphasized the word but kept his tone level. “This is the first we are discussing this, no? How would you know what I feel if you did not ask me directly?”

MC rubbed their hands together anxiously before tucking them under their arms. “I guess...I wouldn’t.”

“Correct. I think you misunderstand my frustration with my brothers. It’s not necessarily when Mammon can’t sit still that makes me upset, it’s when his hands find themselves in pockets or places they shouldn’t be. Levi’s obsessions can tend to drag all the rest of us into situations we didn’t ask for. Can you recall when he had all of us wake up in the early hours of the morning so we could all enter into this contest of his? We were all up for hours. Everyone had a test that day. It affected everyone.” Sure, he wouldn’t deny he was harsh on his siblings. They were also demon after all. Powerful beings require more powerful reprimands, but...he could see where they were coming from...and perhaps some of the blame did lie with him. “I do appreciate personal control. I think it’s important to know where our weaknesses lie and work on them for the betterment of ourselves and others.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “That being said, living as someone you are not is not healthy for anyone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

MC hesitated, surprised at the direction this conversation had went in. Perhaps they too misunderstood him. “Y-yeah.”

“You are not required to like me, but anything that causes a detriment to your life down here needs to be addressed. So, I would hope, that if something bothers you, you come talk to me about it. Understood?”

MC simply nodded.

Lucifer sighed a bit, swallowing some of his bitter pride. “And I, on my end, will work a little harder into understanding you better. So we can prevent misunderstandings like this from happening again.”

“Al-alright.” It was strange having this sort of heart-to-heart with Lucifer. Not disliked mind you, but...strange.

“Also, if there are things you need help with, or resources that would assist you in your day-to-day life, I will work with Diavolo to provide them for you.” He tilted his head, wondering if the human was listening to him, taking in his words. Perhaps he needed to be a bit more direct. “Look at me. Look at me,” he gently ordered, waiting till MC got over their struggle with eye contact to glance up at his face. “I do not harbor any disapproval of you nor do I believe Diavolo to make any mistakes. So, let us both make it through the rest of this program keeping that in mind.”

Their nerves seemed to let up a bit. Who knew Lucifer could give a decent pep talk? He didn’t outright seem like an uplifting man, but MC supposed that there was more to him that they also didn’t understand. “Okay. Thank you, I...appreciate you talking to me about this.”

“I have a lot more patience when I know I’m speaking with someone who will take the time to listen.” Lucifer almost smiled a bit, straightening his posture again. “Now, I do believe there was an unfinished conversation I owe you. Do you happen to remember what you were wanting to talk about the other night at dinner? You never did get to finish.” That was his version of an apology, for now at least. Maybe later when they knew each other better would he give his full apology. For now, getting to see the smile on their face and meet the not-hidden MC was enough.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer

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emeritus-fuckers · 1 year

Note

First off I apologize if I frequent the confessional (aka the inbox) too often. 😔 pretty new to ghost and I love your writing! Secondly, I saw you wanted fluff requests and I have one that’s not exactly fluff, it’s more hurt/comfort, but it is NOT HORNY (for once). Also since this is such a sensitive and personal topic I 100% understand if you need to refuse it!

-mental health and self harm warning-

How would Papas (or Terzo specifically if you’re short in time but still want to do the prompt) react to and comfort their s/o who feels guilty/ashamed after a mental health relapse? Feel free to keep the specific event vague for your and others’ comfort :) (I recently self harmed and have found a lot of comfort in thinking about my Papa telling me he’s still proud of me and that I’m getting better, still recovering, etc.)

Once again, this is a very difficult topic for many people so I completely understand if this is outside of your comfort zone. (If it is a reject, I would greatly appreciate it if you could reply privately.)Write what you love and have a wonderful day! ❤️

While I usually respond to asks with a little comment, I've already said everything in the dms. For everyone else, though, a reminder: this is a comfort zone for you. If there is anything going on, please don't hesitate message my main if you want to talk about it. I'm here for you. - Jez

Papas self-harm comfort

TW: mentions of self-harm, poor mental health.

Primo

He notices right away. Or maybe he just knows. It's unclear.

He takes you to the garden, knowing that it was a comfort space for you both.

Talks to you about flowers, but you can tell there's something more he's getting to. So you wait, listening to how fondly he would speak about the plants.

"Do you like roses, amore? I find them particularly loveable, even despite their thorns. Over the years, I've hurt myself on them many times, but I can't bring myself to hate them. After all, they're just trying to defend themselves this way, since they don't know that I also protect them."

Something about this little speech made you realize that he knew what you did. And just like that, it all hit you hard enough to make you fall to your knees and start crying, mumbling how sorry you were.

He would carefully help you up and take you to the nearest bench and sits there with you, holding you and rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

"I know it's difficult, my love. I know. But I'm here with you now. I won't hate you or leave you because you're hurting. You just couldn't handle it anymore, could you?"

His voice is so soft and you can hear he's sad, beating himself up over not noticing it earlier, before you relapsed.

"But it's going to get better now. I'm here to protect you. I'll help you get through this."

Secondo

He's always been very direct, which might be why so many people in the Ministry considered him a prick.

The moment he notices just how often you pull your sleeves down is the moment he calls you over to go talk in his room.

He asks to see your arms. And your terrified eyes tell him everything. You've relapsed.

He seemed angry, clenching his fists. And that scared you even more, you almost ran away, but he caught you and pulled to you his chest.

He held you so tight, he almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

And that's when you realize, he's not mad at you. He's mad at himself. He's mad that he let that happen.

And so you both just hold onto each other for a while before he picks you up and carries you to bed. He tucks you in and goes to make dinner for you.

He just kinda goes into house husband mode?

He tries his best to make you feel safe and loved.

He trusts you to talk to him when you're ready. And until then, he's practically glued to you.

Terzo

He knew something was wrong when you didn't return his affection with your regular enthusiasm. At first he thought maybe you were just in a bad mood, but he kept observing you just in case.

After a while he pulled you aside, taking you to his room to talk. He sat on the bed with you, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" He would ask quietly, resting his cheek on top of your head as you curled up to cuddle to him some more.

He could tell you were hesitant, but he wanted to make sure you were comfortable before you spoke. So he just held you and rocked you, kissing the top of your head and humming a soft tune to you.

When you finally opened up, telling him that you've relapsed and started hurting yourself again, he holds you tighter and stays quiet for a while.

After a few minutes, he'd ask if you'd be comfortable to show him where you did it. If you did, he would kiss around your scars, the old and fresh ones, his lips incredibly gentle against your skin.

He lets you cry it out, holding you against his chest.

He wants you to feel safe with him. To know that you can always come to him and talk.

Copia

When you tell him one evening that you need to have a serious conversation with him, he can already tell it's gonna be bad. Although his assumption was that you wanted to break up with him.

But, as it turned out, it was way, way worse.

You already confided in him that you used to hurt yourself, but he never thought you'd relapse!

He's very sad, but tries his best not to show it and just holds you for a while.

He would try and gently ask you for the reason. Did he fail to see the signs? Oh, he did, didn't he?

He's upset with himself that he couldn't prevent it.

Quietly begs you to come to him whenever you have thoughts about hurting yourself again, no matter what he's doing.

Offers to get you a nice therapist.

Tries to make you happier however he can. Dedicates all his free time to you.

Plays video games with you, lets you play with his rats, he's by your side whenever possible.

He really hopes that's at least close to being enough.

Old Nihil

He's incredibly confused when he found out.

This man does not see a single flaw in you, he views you as above perfection.

And for whatever reason, you harmed yourself???

It does not make sense to him. He demands to have you called to his bedroom so he can question you.

He's even more shocked as you break down, crying and apologizing.

"Hey, hey now, stop crying, okay?"

He's just... So awkward as he pats your shoulder and assures you that he loves you, he just really has no clue why you'd want to do that!

He wants you to explain everything to him just so he can tell you you're wrong and interrupting you with his own views of him.

He tries, okay?

Young Nihil

This fucking dumbass...

His first reaction is literally "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

He's in shock and it's basically a defensive reaction.

He doesn't understand why you'd do something so stupid???

He might yell at you at first and only realize after a moment that he's making it worse.

So he apologizes, still a bit grumpy about it, but he holds you close.

"Listen, just... Just don't do that. Okay? I don't wanna lose ya."

He might actually tear up about it once you're asleep. His life was filled with fuck-ups and he'd hate it if he'd lose you.

He's gonna pay more attention to you from now on.

And he's gonna do his best to take care of you.

He's an idiot and he lets him emotions get the better of him, but he really does love you. He' just bad at showing it. Really bad.

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eremorte · 4 days

Note

You literally always send the best asks, so we’ll thought through and I’ve never seen you ask someone the same thing twice so I figured I’d sent you one

If you could write more seasons / specials / webisodes / crossover for eah what would the plot be for each?

Keep in mind that Mattel would still have to approve it so don’t go crazy with dark lore + queer ships but definitely can add more than what was originally in the series - or you can completely discard this and do what you want. Rules are made to be broken.

I would actually love to hear this extremely detailed if you had lots of ideas

I have been terrified of an ask like this one gracing my inbox. (Still grateful). As much as I ponder the franchise I haven’t thought of much that would objectively move the plot forward. What I’ve been obsessing over are the cracks in explanation or how plain everyone is in a world filled with magic.

Firstly, thank you? One of the reasons I haven’t asked anything twice is because if anyone wants to answer the prompt they are free to (Please do, I beg y’all). And because I figure people have already suggested these ideas already but outright saying “Hey, I want you to answer” appears to work best.

I really like asking people things! But it takes a while when a person has no clear prompt for questions ("asks are open" is vague in this bottleneck of a fandom). Or I see content on their blog that already answer a question I might’ve asked/not involved with other fandoms on said blog.

Also like, the asks I’ve gotten before were objectively a challenge so I just thought that was the bar…

I will say right now I don’t like crossovers so I don’t have many ideas regarding that (Even with g1 monster high).

So webisode ideas….

An episode in which Kitty either apologizes or doubles down on what she did in a Cat who Cried Wolf. (Let’s be clear, the consequences for Cerise would have been worse than death. I am still bitter) (and have also forgotten most of the books if this is ever rectified).

A few episodes where Apple and Raven don’t appear at all and also doesn’t introduce anyone new (they aren’t bad, I’m just bored of them appearing in everything).

Conversely, a few episodes where it focuses on the fact that allegedly Raven and Apple have a social circle outside of their room mate.

(Raven Maddie Cerise and Cedar)

(Apple Briar Ashlynn and Blondie)

An episode on what Apple and Maddie do as co presidents

(any extracurricular episode really)

An episode focusing on the brothers Grimm. I noticed that after Spring Unsprung continuity from the specials doesn’t seem to matter to webisode continuity. So it probably won’t delve into the resentment Giles has built up from being trapped. The next best alternative is something involving Milton’s obsession with the unicorns. Maybe Milton lost a unicorn but is too embarrassed to announce it and sends Giles (or Giles notices on his own and helps anyway) to find it.

And an episode where Ginger has to reconstruct something on her gingerbread cottage and Cerise and Ramona are enlisted to help her.

A boys only episode. Idc what the plot is.

Full salt ahead…

An episode where either Duchess or Ramona call out Poppy on her apparent Roybelness. (Ramona mostly, and then when Poppy reveals the sister secret Ramona is still annoyed, and points out that Grimm probably wouldn’t force them to switch places if he knew at this point (because you don't need two Rapunzel's, but you need at least one Badwolf). Cerise is the reluctant peace keeper)

Oh and also an episode where people eventually hear about the Red/Badwolf romance (friendship?) but mistakenly attribute it to Cerise and Ramona somehow. Obvious it gets cleared up by the end.

If nothing else a picnic date between Ramona and Red.

It seemed towards the end we would have gotten something focused on the hood-badwolf sisters. I'm not sure if the reveal of the secret and acceptance is what I want. I would want a special wholly dedicated to the reform school. Or at least, whatever Ramona did to her sent there.

Because it feels kinda annoying to shove the whole arc of acceptance into 45 minutes start to finish. And nothing in the show explicitly conflicts with Cerise revealing her secret to Hood Hollow (Unfairest of them All) which is objectively the bigger fish for them, compared to the populous of Ever After High, so, I'd be bored watching it. Besides even if in show canon Cerise didn't do what she did. It'd still be just the high school they focus on.

Given how the webisodes are formatted I would've preferred they dealt with the reveal that way (or like how they did THD). The tension between uploads would help.

#ever after high #eah #ask #episode ideas

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hillerskalibrary · 9 months

Note

This is my first time being in a fandom so I don't really know - do you think people writing YR fanfiction will die down quickly after the end of the show? I am already super sad about the show ending but no more new fanfiction about these two might be even worse 🙃

Do you maybe have experience from other fandoms? 🧡

Hey anon! To you, as well, apologies for the late reply, especially since this question is clearly important to you - and no doubt to many others.

Now, should I have attempted to write a heartfelt answer on how the YR fandom will indeed probably slowly fade away but that's okay because the important thing is the joy it gave you while it lasted? Yes, yes I should have.

Did I spend half an hour making a graph in Excel instead? ... also yes.

look I may be a failed scientist but I'm still a scientist and you came to my inbox so...

Behold! My beautiful and not-at-all questionable graph of the number of YR posted per month since the release of S1.

Now, first the good news: as you can see, the general trend of fic goes UP! ;) I think it's been clear that S2 has drawn in lots of new fans, and that reflects in the number of fics - not only are there more writers, but more readers = more interaction = more motivation for writers.

Now, what does this tell us about fic numbers after S3?

... absolutely nothing. No, seriously, it is impossible to extrapolate any of this into the future :D. I mean, it is likely the peak will be even higher for the S3 release, and it's safe to say that then it will go down. But how fast, or how low, is hard to tell...

Now, I can see how this may make you sad. And I would like to offer two counterpoints.

ONE It's not done yet. This may seem obvious but- the time to be sad is not here yet. Suppose the sun shines today, and the forecast predicts rain for tomorrow. What are you going to do? Go out and enjoy every ray of sun while you can? Or spend the day inside, sad because you won't be able to go out tomorrow? Look - don't get me wrong, I don't wanna dismiss your feelings. It's just- we'll have time to be sad about it later, you know? Right now fandom is active: great fic is being published, thought provoking discussions are being had, ... . Let's enjoy that!

TWO Whether fandom lives or dies after the show, is partly up to you. I mean it! A fandom lives by grace of its active members. So write fic. Prompt other authors if you can't (and even if you can!). Organize events, challenges, polls, ... There are so many things you can do to keep the fandom going, but it's going to require time and effort. And no, success is not guaranteed. But it's worth it.

Lastly though, as you say yourself: this is your first fandom. A first fandom is always a little special, but after a first... comes a second. Always. It may seem hard to believe, and it may not even be something you necessarily want, but very often, that's how it goes. Fandoms come and go - and that's fine. It sucks too, of course, sometimes. But it's fine. It has to be, because the alternative is for nothing to ever change, and that would suck even harder. So enjoy this wonderful fandom we have, gush about it all with your mutuals, and trust that a new blorbo will find you ;).

#Anonymous #idk if this helps #I'm sorry if it doesn't #I know I tend to be pretty matter of fact about these things #cycle of life ya know?#young royals #library asks

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ladytauria · 1 year

Note

Chubby!Jason+Tim cooking, if you don't mind prompt now

❤ i never mind prompts! sometimes i am just very slow at getting to them ^^;

ngl there didn't end up being much cooking in this lol. i thought i was gonna sit down & write ~300 words of cooking + banter & ended up with almost 1k of fluffy domesticity, so. i hope u like it!

it's been a bit since i've had the spoons to do much writing so having this flow as (relatively) easy as it did was a treat. thanks for the prompt~

(i have another jaytim prompt sitting in my inbox rn too, so if ur reading this, nonny, i promise i'm going to get to it! my brain just refuses to settle on one idea~)

OH. and apologies for any missing 'e's.' the key was doing... not fine, but like, decently, and then it decided to pop out & then back on wrong. i think i caught them all, but. just in case.

EDIT: …the last paragraph seems to have disappeared for me? i hope i’ve fixed but, uh. this is also on AO3. if this keeps happening, you may want to read it there instead.

Tim comes home to the heavenly smell of something cooking. He smiles to himself, despite the heaviness in his limbs, and makes his way into the kitchen. Jason stands at the stove, stirring something, while meat sizzles in another pan. Normally Tim would take a moment to admire him; how comfortable and relaxed he is here, in this home they've built together.

Not today.

Today, he plasters himself against Jason's back, burying his face in the fabric of Jason's t-shirt and winding his arms around Jason's waist, underneath his Wonder Woman apron. This close, he can smell the lingering traces of Jason's favorite soap, the slight tang of sweat, and something uniquely Jason. He sinks into his warmth with a soft sigh.

"Long day?" Jason asks, voice rumbling under Tim's cheek. He lays a hand over Tim's arm, slowly stroking his skin with his thumb.

Tim nods. "In and out of meetings all day," he says. He prefers days when he can disappear into the R&D labs. Though, honestly, he'll even take the paperwork over meetings—especially a full day of them.

Jason hums sympathetically, which Tim feels more than hears. "Food'll be ready soon," he says. He taps Tim's arm once, twice. "You should go change."

"Mm. I'm good here, actually," Tim mumbles. Jason-cuddles are the best cure for long, draining days. Nothing beats burying his face in the plushness of his chest or or stomach. Especially when he absentmindedly cards his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp in just the right way to make him melt.

The space between his shoulder blades is nice too, though.

Jason snorts. "Uh-huh. I don't want to listen to you bitch about getting stains on your shirt tomorrow. Go."

Tim huffs. "I can eat without staining my shirt." Usually.

"Let's not take chances. Besides, are you really telling me you want to spend the rest of the night in your suit?"

Tim doesn't have to see Jason's face to know he's arching a brow, the same way Alfred does when he knows he's got you backed into a corner. He huffs again, but doesn't argue. After all, Jason's right. He really doesn't want to spend the rest of the night in a suit, no matter how perfectly tailored it is.

Still. He pinches Jason's side when he pulls away, grinning smugly at his boyfriend's undignified (and adorable) squeak as he dances out of reach. Jason glares at him, effect totally ruined by his mouth twitching at the corners. Tim sticks his tongue out. Jason loses the battle, treating him to a fond, helpless smile as he shakes his head.

Tim ducks into their bedroom, shedding the suit in favor of one of Jason's shirts. It's soft and worn, the Shakespeare reference on the front chipped from too many washes. Perfect to relax in. He takes an extra minute to stow his suit properly, if only so he doesn't have to iron it later, and returns, finding Jason plating their food.

"Feel better?" Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Tim says.

He snorts, and offers Tim one of the plates before nudging him toward the couch. "Is it a Criminal Minds or Star Trek night tonight?" he asks, scooping up the remote before Tim can and navigating to the family's shared digital library.

Tim's chest does something soft and gooey which really shouldn't be legal. He's not sure what his face is doing—only that he is helplessly, utterly, heels-over-head in love. These days, he's grown accustomed to the feeling; the warm glow in his chest from Jason's presence, the safety and surety he feels at his side. But sometimes something happens—something small and simple like Jason remembering his comfort shows—and love overwhelms him all over again. He hopes it never stops.

"Star Trek," he says, voice maybe a little thicker than normal. Jason doesn't comment; just finds the listing and starts up one of Tim's favorite episodes, casual as you please. Oblivious to or ignoring the effect he has on Tim. (The slight pinkness to the tips of his ears would suggest the latter.)

Tim leans into his side, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. "I love you."

Jason kisses the top of his head. "Love you too," he murmurs into his hair. They stay like that for a minute—just a minute—before Tim reluctantly drags himself away to eat.

It's delicious, as always. Tim hasn't eaten this well (or regularly) since he moved out of the manor—his self-provided meals being mostly takeout, and often skipped or forgotten in favor of work. And he's not the only one benefiting. Jason, no longer bouncing between safe-houses and looking over his shoulders, has filled out; hard muscles now protected by a layer of padding and squish perfect for curling up against.

Which Tim does, the second both their plates retire to the coffee table.

Jason snags the plush throw they keep on the back of the couch and re-positions them so they're reclining on the couch. Tim's head is pillowed on Jason's chest, near his heart; one of Jason's arms snug around his waist, and both of his pressed against Jason's sides. It doesn't take long for Jason's free hand to settle on his head, combing through his hair, untangling knots with perfect gentleness in between soft scritches.

It doesn't take long for Tim's eyelids to droop; heaviness returning to his limbs. He sighs quietly, contentedly, turning his face into Jason’s chest, and sinks into sleep.

#jaytim #timjay #jason todd #tim drake #dcu #batfam #tauriawritesfanfic #lovely anons #asks and answers #tauriawrites #domesticity my beloved #also i always write jason comfort so i figured it was tim's turn this time #tim deserves snuggles & by god he is going to get them

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eruden-writes · 2 years

Text

Room & Board - Part 12 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Early access to Part 13 when it’s ready will be available on Patreon!

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

x x x x x

April 20, 1882

It has been 2 weeks since my last entry. Regrettably, there has not been much to report.

I have continued to visit Tabaeus and provide sustenance when requested. Others have not seemed to realize Tabaeus's dwindling feral appearance as their body shifts to something more human.

The council hasn't decided what to do with the creature. Caged, Tabaeus has been nullified. They have not fed on non-consenting parties nor shown any hostility, unless provoked.

However, a few entrepreneuring minds have tossed in the idea of 'leasing' Tabaeus out to interested parties. Thus, the vampyr would become a source of revenue for the town and a plaything for scientists or doctors with deep enough pockets.

I do not know how to feel about that option, yet there is not much else to consider at this point in time. If there were a way to reverse the vampyrism, perhaps. Which, I suppose, would be reason enough to allow learned minds to study or test Tabaeus.

Tabaeus's screams from Dr. Forsythe's surgery still haunts me, however. I do hope the council puts restrictions on such activities.

May 10th, 1882

The council has concluded to lease out the vampyr.

Tabaeus will remain in the morgue's basement, which has been equipped with safety measures such as silver bars at most exits and religious seals. In hopes of renewed coffers, the mortician has been relocated.

All studies and experiments are to take place on these premises. Interested parties shall be charged weekly, a hefty sum which varies according to the research or experiments to be accomplished.

I will stay on as a keeper, for now. My duties will include recording pertinent findings and relaying other research that may aid a doctor or scientist in their own work. I am also tasked with caring for Tabaeus, as one would an animal.

There is not much to the task, however. I simply provide him food and liquids, perhaps some entertainment by the way of books or art supplies. Something to give him stimulation in that dreary dark crypt of a basement.

I still do not know how to feel about this decision. If Tabaeus could be wrenched from the clutches of corrupt darkness, however, perhaps it will be worth it.

For the rest of the day and into the next, you continue to read Dr. Kieran Bennett's journal. Tabaeus often makes themselves scarce, when they see you nose-deep in the book, perhaps worried about what else you have found.

Or what you will find out.

You shove all suspicions away for the time being. For now, you just want to get through this journal and perhaps answer questions that have been itching at your brain.

Numerous entries fill the pages of the journal, once it's decided to "rent out" Tabaeus. They cover the better part of almost two years since Tabaeus's 1882 discovery. Many new names, new people come through.

Doctors, scientists, students. Even a few priests who try to 'sway Tabaeus's soul toward the light.' Sometimes, the fresh faces linger for months. Other times, they flitter in to get a specimen from Tabaeus or try a small, insignificant theory, before being lost to time.

Garlic has no effect. Silver can burn, but not to a huge detriment. Other than being an annoyance, spilled beans or small pebbles did not paralyze Tabaeus until they were all counted.

All through it, Dr. Kieran Bennett stays by Tabaeus's side. He sleeps in the upper part of the once-morgue, presumably in an apartment where the mortician once lived. Faintly, you wonder how often Kieran let Tabaeus roam the house, if at all. Kieran's tone when it comes to Tabaeus fluctuates over the course of their acquaintanceship.

There are times you swear Kieran is fond of Tabaeus, if not outright loves them. Then the usage of 'creature' and 'it' returns, to once more establish a cold distance.

Eventually, you stumble upon an entry unlike the others.

January 4, 1884

A new figure has arrived on the scene. A one Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛. He is allegedly learned in occult studies, medicines, herbology, and more. A modern day Renaissance scholar with a particular interest in unholy things, whether they be items or creatures.

He arrived last night and I have yet to meet him.

With squinting eyes, you try to make out the name that has been blotted out. It is impossible, though. Whether it's due to the ink or time that has passed, you can't make out the once scrawled name nor can you decipher it through the indents of the paper.

Quietly, you hazard a glance at Tabaeus. For once, they have remained close on the opposite end of the couch as you read, although there's still a healthy distance between the two of you. They're focused on their own book - ironically a vampire romance - while Liuva and Bjarka sleep in the pocket of their overall dress.

You wonder if it's worth it to ask them about the redacted name. Likely, it won't be. They won't remember or claim not to remember. But, it couldn't hurt.

With a nudge of your foot against their side, Tabaeus glances up from their book. They toss you an easy smile, delighted at your attention, but their expression falls, seeing the look on your face. "Yes?"

"Do you know who this is?" You turn the journal around, holding it open with one hand and pointing to the smeared ink.

Much as how you did, Tabaeus leans forward and narrows their eyes at the page. You watch their lips minutely move as they read the passage, their brows furrowing as they came to the blot. Their lips press together tight as their eyes drop, but you're not sure if they're trying to remember or trying to come up with an excuse.

"Regrettably, I do not know exactly what it says," Tabaeus sighs, but their eyebrows do not relax. You want to say they're struggling to remember, parting the curtains of time to find the answer, but you can't be sure. "He is an important figure, intimidating. It is all hazy, however."

A contemplative hum drops from your lips as you settle back into the couch. You and Tabaeus share an uncertain look across the space between you. Though you've continued to allow feedings, continued to trust Tabaeus despite the tenuous and muddled situation, there's a part of you still wary. And they are aware of that part.

You see the pain that crosses their features whenever the subject surfaces. It makes an answering ache twinge through your own chest.

"Alright," you shrug and sigh, turning back to the journal. You feel Tabaeus's red gaze linger on you as your re-read the passage, trying to immerse yourself in the words once more. Soon enough, they too return to their book.

January 27, 1884

I do not trust Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛.

Tabaeus becomes tense whenever the man is around. They are clearly upset by Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛'s presence. When asked, they cannot - or will not - say why. No matter how badly they are pressed.

Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛'s treatments appear to be more cruelty than cure, as well.

I fear I feel the same as Tabaeus when it comes to my mistrust of this newcomer. However, my apprehension may be more personal than professional.

Too many townspeople have been discussing my lack of marital inquiries and my disinterest in finding a wife. Oftentimes, they dredge up my time spent with Tabaeus in the next breath.

It has grown... uncomfortable in town.

I do not know if Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ simply picked up on it from burgeoning rumors or if his presence is what allowed the seeds of rumor to take root.

I fear my time here is coming to a close, very soon.

It will be difficult to say goodbye.

You turn the page, wondering who this Lord Blot is, what he was doing. Did he have something to do with Dr. Kieran's proclivities coming to light? Or was it simply happenstance, of a man who spent so much time in the company of a vampire?

Your eyes widen as you stare at the next page.

There is no date, but there is a frantically scrawled words, taking up the better part of the page.

HE IS NOT AS HE APPEAR

Mid-word, the ink makes a harsh line down before a splatter of ink messes the page. But that is not what causes you pause.

Most of the paper is stained a grimy reddish brown. You carefully lift the page, finding the stain has soaked through the remaining pages.

With a realization that makes something in your heart cringe back, you realize there are no further entries.

"Are you feeling well?" Tabaeus's quiet question rouses you from a swirl of nausea.

Feeling more than a little lightheaded, your attention flickers to them. Your eyes wide as your lips part to answer. Then your gaze flickers back to the book. Had Tabaeus killed Kieran? Had the Lord Blot?

Hell, you don't even know if Kieran was dead after writing that passage. Perhaps he just suffered a terrible injury and still lived. But who suffers such an injury while journaling?

"Amata?" You hear Tabaeus set his own book aside and sense, more than feel, their hand hover toward your shoulder. They do not touch you, though. You're not sure if you're grateful for that or not.

"I believe Dr. Kieran Bennett was injured or killed while writing this final passage." Your words are soft as you flip through the stained parchment. Faintly, you wonder if Tabaeus knows that stain is blood, if they could smell or sense it somehow. The air around Tabaeus becomes heavier, colder.

After a quiet moment, you hear them swallow and tentatively ask, "What did it say?"

"Dr. Kieran didn't finish it, entirely." "But I presume the whole statement was: He is not as he appears."

Tabaeus falls silent again, red eyes wide and eyebrows tilted upward. You cannot meet their gaze. Instead, you tilt your attention back to the book. Your teeth worry the inside of your cheek as you think.

Could the 'he' in Kieran's warning be about Tabaeus? Or the blotted out name?

Perhaps the blotted name was Tabaeus's own doing, you think with a start. Maybe it was the name of someone that did know how to do away with vampires, a hunter of some sort. It would make sense for a vampire to be leery of such a figure. Would a vampire's possible lover also have to worry?

When you tilt your attention back to Tabaeus, misery is painted across their features. They see the suspicions clearly on your face.

"Amata," they start weakly. You're not sure what they're going to say. Perhaps once more asking for your trust, reasserting their own uncertainty. Maybe, they were going to suggest parting ways.

Whatever they were about to say, you interrupted as you held up one of the later passages. You jabbed at the splotch of ink with your finger. "Did you blot this name out?"

Tabaeus's lips thin at your question. Now they look away. Your stomach is already in the process of sinking when they answer, "Yes. I blotted the name out a long time ago."

"Why?" The word comes out desperate and exasperated on your lips. As much as you want to believe them, you cannot ignore the conflicted feelings itching at your insides. There was too much piling up against Tabaeus. There wasn't enough information coming straight from the vampire.

They reached up to their head, running a clawed hand through their hair. A mix of expressions pinches their features and their eyes dart around, finding the right words and forcing them out, "I am... afraid of them."

"Who?" Half-answers, non-answer. It's all threading frustration through your thoughts. The only reason you can think Tabaeus to be afraid of anyone was if they were a hunter. Your thoughts spin back to the box, where the journal was safely lodged. Maybe this Lord had killed Kieran and Tabaeus had killed this Lord? Your mind spins with potential answers, but no way to verify any of them. "Why were you afraid of them?"

"I can't say," moans Tabaeus, pressing their face into their hands. You watch them as they scoot even further away, bringing their knees to their chest. As they curl up - though careful of the sugar gliders in their breast pocket - against the far end of the couch. Their shoulders hunch, their voice pitching into pleading though they expect to not be believed. "Please, believe me when I say I couldn't remember them."

With a disgruntled sigh, you snap the journal closed a little harsher than you mean to. From the corner of your eye, you notice Tabaeus flinch at the sound.

Silence blankets the both of you, neither of you looking to the other.

Tabaeus is a flawed source of confirmation and answers. You knew this. Catching your lower lip between your teeth, you try to calm your spiraling thoughts and consider other options.

You still need to research Dr. Kieran Bennett. Perhaps you can access some old records somewhere, via the library. Part of you worries what you'll find out, though.

A chime from your phone draws you from your tense thoughts. Picking it up from the couch's arm, you find a text from Ewan. After a glance to Tabaeus, who is pitifully skulking further into teh couch, you read the message.

Hey! Wanna go get some dinner and catch a movie tonight? We can catch up. ;)

Surprisingly, the message manages to draw a pleasant warmth in your chest, pushing away the cold and dread. After the last couple days, literally binge-reading the journal, you could use a dose of fun. A quick glance to Tabaeus makes you realize they could use it too. You'd been so consumed by the journal, the two of you hadn't really hung out. Not in the fun sense, at least.

Your attention slowly turns back to your phone. Ewan and Tabaeus likely wouldn't want to hang out together, you realize. A swell of disappointment expands in your chest at that thought. Leaving Tabaeus alone, after all of this, seems mean-spirited, as well.

It's not until your phone dings again that you realize Ewan started typing again.

If you'd feel more comfortable bringing your roomie, feel free to.

You just stare at your phone, surprised by Ewan's concession. Considering how both of them acted the other night, you thought you'd have to twist both their arms when it came to being in the same room. Hanging out hadn't even been a consideration, honestly.

Getting Tabaeus to agree, however, might be another problem. Sly-like, you peer over at the vampire, who still huddles far from you. Their expression appears strained and creased. Whatever Tabaeus is thinking of is definitely weighing them down.

Tentatively, you quietly interrupt the heavy silence. "Want to go to dinner and a movie with Ewan and me?"

Tabaeus perks up at your voice, but noticeably deflates at the mention of Ewan. Their arms tighten around their stockinged legs, their eyes refusing to meet yours. "I don't know."

Trying to revive some playfulness in the air, you lean toward Tabaeus with a teasing smile. "Well, if you don't come, Ewan will be all alone with me."

You almost cringe at how half-hearted the delight in your voice sounds. It's proving to be hard, shaking off all the heavy atmosphere.

"Why are you doing this?" Tabaeus sighs and their red eyes flicker to you. Their gaze seems duller than it usually is and you can almost see a cloud of gloomy miasma around them.

At their question, your eyebrows furrow, completely uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"

"How can you live with me if you don't trust me? Why offer to hang out after all that?" Tabaeus pushes themself off the couch, pacing back and forth along it. The sudden movement startles the sugar gliders, who squeak their complaints away. Tabaeus doesn't hear them, though. Their long arms stretch down to the hem of their dress, fussing with the edge of the fabric. "It'd be simpler if you just... just..."

You want to ask 'if I just what?' But you can't. Tabaeus gave you the vampire hunter box with clear intent. And after reading Kieran's journal, you know they'd been kept in a basement for years, experimented on, and even suffered through multiple surgeries.

What other misfortunes had they lived through that hadn't been recorded? Even if Tabaeus was lying about their memory, could it stem from the string of bad luck that seems to have followed them? An ache pierces your chest at that thought. Perhaps there were reasons for Tabaeus's memory problems, beyond trickery or genuine amnesia.

"A lot of things could make this whole situations simpler," you sigh when Tabaeus seems unable to come up with a course of action. If only there was a clear reason for their memory loss. If only there had been more explicit information in the journal. If only, if only, if only... A million thoughts spin around your head, but you shake your head, dispersing them.

Slowly, you get to your feet and approach the vampire. Pausing in front of them, you cross your arms, angling your head to look up at them. "I'm having a hard time believing you would hurt me, but there's still that suspicion that this, how you are, is an act."

Panicked and anguished, Tabaeus's voice crackles as they squawk, "It's not!"

An apologetic smile spreads over your lips, which doesn't seem to ease the woe in Tabaeus's features. Another blanket of silence briefly covers you both. Tabaeus towers over you, their shoulders hunched, staring at their hands still fiddling with their own skirt.

"Look, I think I got too deep, too fast, in this journal." You reach for the book, holding it up and waggling it in the air. With a toss, you throw it back onto the couch. Just holding it makes your head hurt, recalling all the awful things inside its pages. "I need to cleanse my palate and Ewan offered to hang out. Even extended the invite to you."

At that, Tabaeus looks up, surprise glinting in their eyes.

You can't help but smile, almost seeing the thoughts banging about Tabaeus's head. A werewolf extending an invitation to a vampire? How absurd.

Clinging to that image, and other amusements the night may yet bring, your smile finally feels genuine after a long hiatus. "I thought we both could use an outing."

"Perhaps," Tabaeus murmurs, their eyes flickering to your smile. The tension in their stance relaxes, apparently put further at eas with the return of your more pleasant smile.

"Let's forget about this for now and get gussied up." With a renewed sense of vigor, you type a reply out to Ewan - agreeing to meet and saying you would bring Tabaeus - before looking up at Tabaeus again. As your grin broadens, you wink at the vampire. "I'll even let you pick out my outfit."

"Oh," Tabaeus's voice has gone soft, their eyes widening a little. They had asked to dress you, on multiple occasions. Sometimes as a joke, but occasionally a sincere note bled into their words. Now, they shake their head. "You do not want me doing that."

Their hesitance only serves to deepen your amusement. "Why not?"

Tabaeus makes a noise, deep in their throat. Too ashamed to put their thoughts into words. Now, you're simply curious what they have in mind. Feeling more bold and amiable than earlier, you take their hand in yours. Their fingers flex at the sudden touch, before they ease into it.

"Well, let's get ready and knock Ewan dead." Excited to shove the despair away for the evening, you start pulling Tabaeus up to your room. However, you pause and squint up at the suddenly delighted smile pulled across the vampire's face. You sigh when you realize what you had said. "Figuratively knock Ewan dead."

"Killjoy," Tabaeus mumbles as their face falls a little. You snort and roll your eyes, pulling them back up the stairs and toward your room.

Thoughts of the journal - of Kieran and Lord Blot and everything else in those pages - gets shoved to the back of your head. You are still on vacation from work. You have a house. Your roomie is a vampire - who can foot your bills for life - and, quite possibly, a former co-worker is a werewolf.

There would be time to dwell on the past later.

Tonight, you just wanted fun.

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