#how do you spell the name of those red bottom shoes

[mxthtea]

I Am Not Your Enemy

grim x masc reader (reader does not have a specified gender, but is stated to not identify as a woman) warnings: (reader) breakdowns, online grooming (done to the reader), reader refers to themself as a slut and a whore once each, heavily self-indulgent and based on my own experiences, hand holding and hugging, use of grim's real name, mentioned self-harm, grammar + spelling mistakes, please tell me if i forgot any word count: 3107

request rules

You feel… itchy. Very itchy.

Not an itch that made any sense. A spontaneous itch that covers your entire body. But your skin isn't dry either. It makes you want to tear into it and rip out your tendons. To scratch until you're red and bleeding onto your flooring and chair.

Maybe it has to do with the anxiety pooling into your chest. the heavy weight that lays there, making your heart pound to try and escape. The quickened breaths of your suffocating lungs.

The bright screen of your laptop glares you down. The old messages you had sent to Casper glaring even harder.

The words making out more… suggestive messages. In-depth words about how you'd touch him, how you'd feel him. What your skin contact would be like. To think that it was just about holding his hand. To think that you sent those, even though it has been a while since you sent them.

Messages that you swear you've seen before. Years prior and on a social app you shouldn't've been on. After all, your parents wanted to protect you from online predators. But, they still got to you. It's not like you were exactly protecting yourself.

Suggestive messages filled with what they'd to you. How they'd touch your skin and they'd feel. How they'd undress, how they-

"Sunshine?" a voice cuts off your thoughts.

Your head snaps to the doorway to your apartment. There stands your boyfriend, Casper, donning his usual attire. Not that you can make it out well, your face is blurry from tears, after all.

When did you start crying?

Your body tells you to run. To run from Casper and to get out of there. Telling you that he's just like them. You're just a body, you aren't a person to him. No doubt he talks about you behind your back. He views you as some slut, some whore. Somebody that he'll use then discard. Who knows who else he's done that to.

He'll fuck you- or you'll fuck him- then he'll leave you right after. He'll get what he wanted then leave. Maybe he'll take your soul while he's at it! After all, he's a grim reaper! It's insane to think he doesn't want it!

It doesn't matter if this goes against everything you know about Casper. You're right, you have to be. You've been through this already.

Something cold presses against your hot cheeks and you slap away whatever's touching you. Your world blurs for a moment, a thud then a sharp pain that shoots up from your bottom.

Casper's above you. His face is too blurry from your tears to make out. Gods he's above you, he's gonna make you-

"Sunshine, look at me," Casper calls out to you. when you look at him, he's on his knees in front of you. his hands held in the air as if telling you he won't touch you again.

Your shaking hands reach up to wipe the tears that drip from your eyes. You can barely make anything out into detailed shapes. Your boyfriend is just a blur of some colors. His red eyes still stand out among the grey and whites.

"Get away from me," you choke out, "don't touch me."

The red blurs of his eyes get bigger. You assume he had widened them, but you still make it out fully. There's a distant sound of Casper's shoes shuffling against your wooden flooring. Your eyes begin to clear up from the tears. They fall down your cheeks, but you simply wipe them. You don't want to look even more vulnerable.

You look up to Casper, staring into his red eyes. He seems worried.

A part of you thinks it's fake.

A part of you knows that this is fake.

His look of worry is just one to hide his own feelings. He's pretending he's being worried so he can get you to lower your guard. Then he'll use your body. With sweet words, he'll whisper that fills you with too much guilt to say no. You'll want to die after, then he'll leave you.

Only to come back again and repeat the damned cycle.

You want to run, but you feel cornered. He's kneeling in front of you, keeping you from running away. He's gonna hold you down. He'll-

"Sunshine," Casper's voice makes it sound like he's pleading with you, "please tell me what's wrong."

His eyes meet yours. Casper takes a step back to give you space.

Will he jump on you when you try to run?

"Don't touch me," you demand.

Casper raises his gloved hands once again, he takes another step back from you, "I won't touch you. What's wrong?"

You look at him with inquisitive eyes. Why's he acting like this? He wants to touch you, does he not? Maybe he's just pretending to care about how you feel.

You see Casper's concerned expression twist into one of surprise. He looks down at you, eyes widened by a fraction, dark eyebrows raised up.

He opens his mouth to speak, "Sunshine, why do you look like that? Did I say something wrong?"

Your gaze hardens. Why is he playing dumb? He knows what he wants. He knows that he wants you. Why?

He must be trying to put you in a false sense of security. Then it's easier for him to undress you. For him to mutter in your ear how much you want him.

"You want to touch me don't you?" you look at him, incredulously, "so do it."

"You don't want me to."

"Why do you care?"

You see that Casper visibly flinches back. His expression changes several times in a matter of seconds. From shock, to anger, to a form of despair, to worry.

"I'm not going to touch you."

"But don't you?"

"Do you want me to?"

A shiver wracks through your body. You feel your blood rush and your heart beats rapidly in your chest. You feel as if it's going to burst out any second. The question rings in your ears. He's trying to tempt you, isn't he?

"Do you want me to?"

When you say no, he'll have an ugly face. One that'll haunt you. One that asks- demands permission. Permission given that completely strips you of consenting to it. Then he'll smile. He'll say you're a good girl despite you not being one. He'll hush your protests with his lips.

It doesn't matter if you say no. You might as well just be saying yes. You just need to be convinced.

The words are a lump in your throat. Those three letters, singular syllable, refuse to come out. Just say yes goddammit it saves you the fucking trouble!

"No," your voice shakes as you speak. You feel pathetic.

"Alright," Casper nods to you, "I won't."

"Why not?"

It seems like a stupid question. But, you have to ask. Why doesn't he want to?

"You don't want me to, right? I won't touch you until you say so."

There's silence in the room. You know Casper wants to speak. He opens his mouth just to close it a few times.

"I'll be back," is all he says before leaving from your apartment window. When did he even open it?

Your legs shake as you stand. Luckily, due to your small apartment, your bed is only a stumble away. As you let yourself fall onto your mattress, your mind begins to wander… to Casper.

He didn't want to touch you. Not because he didn't desire you, it's because you didn't want him to. Something that other people would scoff at and say is the bare minimum. But, it's something you aren't used to. Well, you had barely said no to anyone's demands. Always eager to please.

Despite the pain and trauma it had caused. Those same memories and emotions still haunt you years later.

You don't know when you fell asleep. All you remember is thinking of Casper and what you had experienced. Then, you woke up. With the blue sky changing to an orange.

Casper still isn't back either. It's just you, your plant, and your pet.

You take hold of your pet, gently. Holding them in your lap and gently stroking them. It's nice, creating a small bubble of pleasant feelings in your chest. It's easy.

A few minutes seem to pass. You're still in a bit of a daze from earlier events. You must've been asleep for at least an hour.

There's a distant noise that you can't really hear. Your pet looks up, you follow their gaze. A figure crawls into your room from your window. The familiar dark jacket and white hair stand out to you.

"Casper…?" you drawl. His eyes meet yours. His expression is one of concern. Why?

"I said I'd be back, didn't I?" he gives a smile to you, "I bought some food."

He places an emphasis on saying he bought it. It makes you think that he might've stolen the food. Those hesitant thoughts are cut short as Casper places the bag down in front of you.

It's some fast food place. WcBonalds, as you recall. You had eaten there a while ago, during another one of these episodes.

Casper sits at your desk chair. He stares at your hands, waiting for you to move. You notice how poor his posture is. His slumped back against the leather back of it. You wonder if a reaper like him faces back pain like a human like you.

Removing the food he had brought, you just stare at it for a moment.

"Are you… eating it with your eyes?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't…" feel hungry is what you want to say. Though you doubt Casper will take that as an answer.

Despite not eating the entire day and having a breakdown, you didn't want to eat. The thought of it makes you feel queasy. Having the flavors invade your tongue. The texture lingering in your mouth. Choking on the food as it slides down your throat.

Thinking about eating makes you tired, not hungry.

Casper's eyes still linger on you. His eyebrows pinch together in a face of worry. At least, it could be worry. You feel like he's probably frustrated, too.

This isn't the first time he has to encourage you to eat.

"Can you at least drink a little, Sunshine?" Casper relents. He carries a sad look on his face.

You look at the drink Casper brought. A simple, standard cup of iced water from WcBonalds. Perhaps he didn't want you to choke on their famously aggressive soft drinks. It won't hurt to drink. Water is nice to drink, you're thirsty as well. It's easier to do than eat something as well.

You give a nod to Casper. His lips quirk up into a relieved smile as you take a sip of it.

"Slowly," Casper's voice is gentle as he speaks. You follow his words and take small, slow sips.

"I thought a grim reaper wouldn't know how to take care of someone," you move your lips from the straw and put it down. The food still stares up at you, waiting for you to eat it.

You sigh. Taking a fry and eating it. The expected salty taste invades your senses. It makes you feel sick, but you also realize how hungry you are.

"I'm good at taking care of you," Casper corrects you, "every other human I either fight or take their soul."

You give a nod to him, continuing to eat.

Now that Casper is with you and you aren't breaking down in front of him, you can ask him a question. The question that had been bothering you since he had left.

Why?

"Casper," you start. He looks to you, red eyes meeting yours, "why didn't you touch me?"

His expression is one of bewilderment, as if your words cut into him. He opens his mouth just to close it. You think Casper looks more like a fish than a grim reaper right now.

"You told me you didn't want me to," Casper sounds offended as he speaks.

"And you listened, why?" you eat a fry after the words fall from your lips. The salty taste lingers on your tongue.

"Why wouldn't I listen to you?"

"Because-"

Oh.

You can't come up with any response. Any reason that he'd go against your words die before they could even leave your mouth.

Casper lets out a sigh. He approaches you, sitting on your bed. His eyes still meeting yours.

"Can I hold your hand?"

The words sit in the air. You look down and stare at your hands.

Unlike a bit ago, you don't ache at the mere thought of being touched. In fact, maybe you want to be. For no other reason than you just crave a bit of contact.

So, you nod. Casper clicks his tongue. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response.

"I want your verbal consent, Sunshine. Not just a nod."

Another gap of silence. It's easier to just nod or shake your head than have to say it out loud.

"Yes," your voice shakes a bit with hesitancy. It's not that you don't want Casper to touch you- it's just hard to say you do.

"Sunshine," Casper's gloved hand brushes over your fingertips. When you don't pull your hand back or give any other sign of not wanting to be touched, Casper takes your hand in his.

His hand is cold, even through the gloves he wears. You know this. You've known this. Ever since Casper had gifted you a bouquet of roses all those weeks ago. You've continued to know it ever since that first week of "meeting" each other.

"Sunshine," Casper repeats, "look at me."

Your eyes meet up to his. Casper looks at you desperately. There's a bit of hurt in his expression. The cocky bastard of a grim reaper you know is replaced with someone filled with worry. You don't think you've ever seen him like this.

His hold on your hand is light, gentle. As if you'd break at the slightest bit of physical pressure. You don't know if that's true or not in your current mental state.

"Sunshine. I am not your enemy," his hold on your hand tightens the slightest bit, "I have never been your enemy. I will not do anything you don't want me to."

"But-"

"No," Casper's voice is firm, unbreakable. He's blunt in his statements, just as he has been before, "there is no but, if, and, or whatever else you mortals say. I am not working against you. Unless you are doing something truly stupid- which you probably will- I don't want to hurt you."

The statement flows through the open air. You can't seem to grasp onto it. The words Casper speaks are foreign to you. Reassurances that he won't use you like you have been before. You're… hesitant to accept such things being said to you.

It's not supposed to be like this.

Casper is supposed to use you, he's supposed to go against what you say, he's supposed to make you uncomfortable. But, he isn't.

In fact, he's doing the opposite.

He's helping you, he's doing what you want. He's touching you when you say he can.

Something warm drips down your cheek. You reach up and try to wipe away your tears. Emotions overflow and reveal themselves in the small space of your apartment. With only two other living beings to witness it and some food you've half forgotten about.

"Sunshine," your nickname falls from Casper's tongue. He says it so much these days. As if he's just stating the weather.

You look back up to Casper. His other hand hovers just before your face. The sheer frigid temperature he has goes against your heated body.

"May I?"

This time, you know he means that he's asking for your consent. Casper won't do anything without you saying so. If you say no, he backs off.

"Yes…" the words are sniffled out.

Casper's gloved hand wipes away your tears. The one still holding your hand squeezes it reassuringly.

Casper is different.

You can trust him.

"I love you, Sunshine," the words are whispered to you. Sweet, loving words falling from the lips of your boyfriend.

It makes you want to break down.

A weight feels as if it's been lifted off of your shoulders. Casper's reassurances and actions go against what you had expected from him just hours ago.

More tears fall from your eyes. The air is filled with your stifled sobs and sniffles. The overwhelming emotions crash down onto you in rapid succession.

You don't have to go through hell once again. There isn't a need to feel fear from him.

Casper reaches closer to you in an effort of comfort. He asks if he can hold you, comfort you. Another time where he doesn't force his presence upon you. It only makes you want to cry more.

"Y- yes… please," you sob out.

As the final syllable leaves your lips, Casper embraces you. The entirety of him is cold, a direct contrast to your still-hot temperature. Your tears fall onto his shoulder as Casper leads your head to be as close as possible. Despite it, his presence isn't overwhelming. It's comforting.

Your hands find purchase against his jacket, tugging at the fabric in an attempt to ground yourself. You hear Casper whisper words to you. In your fuddled mind it's impossible to hear what he's really saying. The syllables being all mixed together in some gibberish.

"Focus on my voice, Sunshine," is all you can clearly make out from Casper's words.

So, you try to.

It sounds like he's underwater when you try to focus on him at first. Despite that, it helps to hear him speak. Casper's voice brings you down from your overwhelming emotions. The fabric of his jacket and the coldness of his shoulder helps as well.

As the last few sniffles and sobs leave from you, you gently pull yourself back. Casper does nothing to keep you against him. His arms are loose around you as he looks into your eyes, you gaze back into his.

"I love you, Sunshine," he whispers, "I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"I know," a small smile finds it's way to your face, "I love you too, Casper."

You reach forward and hug him again, fitting yourself into Casper's embrace. You hear an exhale of amusement escape from your grim reaper, but no words do.

For now, you're content with just soaking in his presence.

#a date with death #adwd casper #adwd x reader #adwd casper x reader #adwd grim #x reader #vennys tales #finally done with this fic #augughgh

[ur-dad-satan]

Wally Darling is talking to US (WH update)

I saw a few people talking about the Welcome Home update and so far all the posts I've seen keep forgetting that Wally's eyes are on the site if you zoom out. Wally's eyes aren't the only thing there as of this update. This may have some spoilers so feel free to ignore this because I'm talking about what's there and what I think it means.

Now, of course there's the five commands we got around the website before this update. The Write hello, write ok, Move Barnaby, turn the Playfellow Exhibition upside down, and the reverse this image of Sally to be specific. All five of those commands got responses from someone within the website or even someone in Welcome Home. I saw someone say that it's Wally making these changes, and I honestly agree. The "Write hello" is met with red writing in Wally's handwriting.

Now, we know for a fact that this is Wally's handwriting because of the bottom of the Guestbook where everyone signed their name. This is the same handwriting as "Wally" and "Home" in the guestbook.

All of their handwriting is so distinct and only Wally's and Home's names are written in a) the same font and b) the same smiley/accent. Wally is talking to us and/or the WHRP team.

The Write ok is also completely wonky. We all assumed that meant add ok to the URL or just type ok and something would happen; however, the sticker page got completely rearranged. It's a complete mess and the character stickers spell out OK with a smiley face in the "O". Directly under "Neighbors" is Wally's little sticker gif thing and a little house has been constructed around the right eye and one around a Home and a Wally sticker.

It's also worth mentioning that the home sticker in the "welcome home house" is the only Home sticker on the page anymore. I haven't mentioned that the new little drawings that Wally's done have messages when you hover over them. This one in particular says "I did not write this. I did something else. I know who these neighbors are. Do you like them too?" I can't tell if that's Wally trying to come through or something/someone else.

When it comes to the Move Barnaby command, just a glance will show that Barn's name isn't there with Wally's and Howdy's. Barnaby's name is literally moved off of the page with a small drawing of the blue man himself with the message "Do you like Barnaby here?" The silly little guy is showing that he's answering whoever is trying to talk to him.

Barn was physically moved and then asked whether or not it was done correctly. That's also the only place he was moved from on the entire transcripts page.

The playfellow Exhibition page also had a little message saying to turn it upside down. Now anywhere on the page it says, "The Playfellow Exhibition" or even "The Playfellow Workshop" those words are upside down. There's also a drawing of a Christmas tree with an eye on it near the top.

When you hover over the drawing, it says "I did not know what to do. I think I am correct. Is it Homewarming where you are? Happy Homewarming." First of all, what is Homewarming? Is that supposed to be like a housewarming or a Neighborhood holiday or something like that? Also, what is the little guy confused about? Why would he be wrong when the instruction is so clear?

Lastly, the reverse this image of Sally thing is possibly the most bizarre thing about the new update. Of course, the command says to reverse the image so many people just flipped the picture horizontally. This is what we expected but this is what we got.

We got the literal BACK of the picture. You can still see Sally's hand and her shoes, but this shouldn't be possible. How can we see the back of the curtain when it's not a 3D picture. This one in particular leaves me with a bunch of questions and not really any theories. What does this mean for the sake of the website and therefore Wally and the other neighbors? Is Wally the only one who can communicate this way or even trying to? Are the others going to be able to communicate with us and the WHRP team?

In all seriousness, this is so cool and turning out so good! I'm really invested and so proud of Clown and all the voice actors. I can't wait to see where this goes from here and what the next update brings. <3

#welcome home #welcome home update #what is going on here #welcome home arg

[tteokdoroki]

OCTOBER 15TH. CRUELLA DE VIL

“i live for fur, i worship fur. after all, is there a woman in all this wretched world who doesn't?.”

♱ — shouto todoroki + fearplay.

♱ — synopsis; cruella de vil cruella de vil… if he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will. a man of shouto todoroki’s calibre finds amusement in torturing the one thing he might love more than spots… his favourite little hybrid, his most prized possession…you.

♱ —length; 5.9K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, mentions of smoking, cigarette burns, dry humping, shoe humping, stockholm syndrome, orgasm control, fear play, power play, clothed sex, blowjobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), humiliation, edging, pictures, spit!kink, fem!reader, hybrid!reader, cruella de vil!todoroki. not beta read !

♱ — notes; beep boop !! happy sinister saturday my angels, this week we have one of my faves, cruella de vil 'n shou so i hope you enjoy!! i'm so excited to share this one with you <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

there is always work to be done when achieving perfectionism

discipline and obedience were two very important lessons shouto todoroki had learned early on in life.

though raised with a silver spoon perched between his perfect lips— the man, like any other who has walked this earth, has had his fair share of struggles too. enji todoroki was a man who believed in perfectionism…only achieved by hard work. discipline. obedience.

his father was unrelenting in making sure shouto knew what those words meant, raised up to take over the family business out of the three other siblings in his brood. he was neglected and unloved— but taught lessons on how to manage, make money, to speak when spoken to and listen when required to. shouto was malleable, easily trained back then, worked hard to please his father and all the companies to the family name until his light broke. until he’d had enough.

with uniquely split peppermint hair he’d managed to escape into the shadows with a sum of hush money as though not to spill the evil secrets of his upbringing— shouto had kept his lessons of obedience and discipline in mind. the money he would use as a start up, rationed into portions for rent, food and materials for the clothes he’d designed. someday hoping to make a man out of himself, and sell them to the world. 

todoroki wanted to be seen by people, for his designs to reach and touch the hearts of people across the country and maybe even the world— but to do so he had to be obedient, taking an entry level job at a department store that sold high fashion ( of course under a different name…the name cruella, shouto would start from the bottom and make his own way up— he wouldn’t be attached to the cruelty of his childhood ). names of dior, gucci and valentino… burberry, celine, christopher wang flashed in front of his mismatched eyes over tills on a daily basis— pearls and diamonds he’d never seen or heard of were favoured among customers in the store. he aspired to be like them, become a household name. 

to be recognised for his efforts in the world of fashion he would have to work hard, make his way up the ranks to afford furs and chiffons for the goes he had designed—stacked up on napkins and parchment paper, whatever he can find, discarded around his shitty little one bed studio. todoroki sells his first piece into a winter collection after months of cold calling and door knocking towards big owners of major stores.

success, comes with discipline, feigning obedience.

and shouto todoroki knows that he’s finally made it when the calls come flooding into his quiet, dingy london apartment looking for hints in whether or not he’s designed a spring collection.

of course he had, years in advance. 

and that brings us to today, where there’s corporate buildings across the world with his alias spelled out in big red and white letters across the front, filled with passionate designers and models and all sorts of staff. there are billboards at every corner plastered with teasers for todoroki’s upcoming fashion show, he’s been on the cover of all editions of vogue at one point or another— he’s built himself off of the ground. 

starting with obedience and discipline and mixed with a hint of dedication. 

perhaps todoroki should thank his father for not showing he and his siblings any compassion while they were growing up, for the fearful lessons he instilled in them— but then again, it was the dual haired man who’d made a righteous name out of the syllables of his last, who became a pioneer and spearhead to the fashion industry…not poor old enji. poor poor enji, there’s not a dime to his name these days, shouto and touya had made sure of that by selling their childhood trauma to the media. 

shouto made millions which he put towards his fashion company, touya has his band, fuyumi her family comfortably nestled up in some uptight gated community and natsuou wrote a book. they had all utilised what they’d been taught, to make money and to speak when spoken to ( promoted by press to speak on their upbringing of course ).

shouto todoroki is now loved by many, a peppermint haired boy estranged from his family putting himself and his designs in bright colours and elaborate patterns contrasting of his cool, and clipped self out there into the industry. and perhaps it was a cruel move on shouto’s part, but he didn’t care. dear old daddy would have to suffer for raising a son just like him. for acquiescence and regimen breeds rebels, and in excessive amounts, gives birth to bad…bad people. 

he is loved, he is bad, but he is free— his ego kissed and stroked by all of those around him, who don’t know the true him. and cruella, or shouto is sure if people knew how bad he truly was behind the smoke screen of his brilliance, then his career wouldn’t quite be the same as it were now. 

even though the peppermint haired designer loves his job and his work more than anything— a work life balance was also important to him too, to let the day’s stresses flood from his body was a priority. it was hard to keep the cruelty that danced around in his blood stream at bay while todoroki flittered throughout his offices and approved fabrics or threads…he needed an outlet, a reliever to tuck shouto todoroki away and let cruella come out to play. 

as soon as the designer finds himself within his expensive apartment complex— his Chelsey boots clicking against the white glossed marble flooring, he’s swarmed by eager staff that welcome him home. bright eyes full of admiration tracing his outline, puffy cream fur coat, as he cascades through the reception without a care in the world. “afta’noon mister todoroki— i-i mean cruella!” the doorman had greeted him with a bobbing Adam’s apple and polite smile. “a pleasure ta welcome ya  back!” 

with his diamond lined eyes narrowed, todoroki let the corners of his pretty lips twitch up into a soft, smug grin. “the pleasure is all mine, darling.” he’d replied pompously as he made a b-line for the elevator. there’s confidence in every movement he makes and a bristling frost on every surface he touches as he steps straight from the elevator into his own luxury penthouse apartment, greeted by staff that shiver in his presence when he enters his home. 

“mister todoroki,” staff bob their heads in respect, like they’re serving a king which they might as well be.  he holds power over everyone who gets a chance to witness him speak, have the honour of seeing him at work. a king in the world of fashion. 

todoroki’s boots continue to click and clack the further he explores the penthouse with high swooping ceilings and glass windows about the place—letting the cool night and all it’s stars pour in, illuminating the room accompanied by that of the moon. the white light shines in winter tones through paper scattered about the place, scrapped designs, those that’ll make the cut and some saved for future opportunities like the met gala look a celebrity has requested from him for next year. animal prints are thrown over the backs modern day architecture and chairs— the striped ones are often hidden. 

shouto much prefers the perfect simplicity of spots. 

they’re his favourite, round…infinite… never ending. the promise of forever is embodied in a perfect spot. 

there’s a reason why he has a framed portrait of his most beloved design— a real fur coat, made entirely of spots. 

is there anything more precious than something so simple and beautifully designed by nature? this is a question todoroki finds himself asking almost everyone night when he returns home from work, from being adored by people who do nothing but put pennies in his bank account— without even knowing the real him. but then he comes to stand in front of a special locked door, to which he holds the only key, he finds the answer, he smells it hanging in the air of the room as he unlocked it, pushing open the door and tasting the scent of you.

you are the most precious creation known to mankind. 

knocking the heels of his pointed boots together, todoroki watches as spotted black and white dalmation ears peek out from deeper in the room, barely visible over the edge of the comfortable leather couch installed into your playroom. they hang over your darling face in shame— you know what you’ve done, and a wicked chill seeps from his bones into the air around you once he notices your dainty tail no longer swishing behind you but instead tucked between your thighs… no doubt slicked up with an orgasm you know you weren’t allowed to have.

he knows, that you know, you’ve done the unthinkable— the punishable, topaz and granite eyes glossing over with a frightening level of disappointment, lips quirking up in satisfaction when you quiver like a leaf in the wind and a puppy whine sits cutely in the ridges of your throat. you’re not to touch what doesn’t belong to you, you know that. 

“there you are, pet.” cruella, shouto cocks his head to the side, speaking with his tone tilting into condescending as if he’s looking down on you. he is, clicking his heels together again but three times in order to command you to sit once you reach him. “have you been good?” a scarily sunshine smile sits heavy on the peppermint haired designer’s face, gaze flickering down to where your hips don’t fully touch the floor— no doubt avoiding contact with your swollen, dirty clit. sticky, probably, with a release you shouldn’t have had. “i don’t think you have.” 

he pulls a thick, long, thin red and white smoke stick from the left inside pocket of his tailored suit— crouching down to your height and uses the death stick to tilt your stare up from the black leather of his boots to his steeled pair of eyes. “pet?” over the tobacco scent hanging between you both, todoroki catches a whiff of your arousal, a touch of perfume smelling like your instinctual fear… he sees it bright in the pretty flecks in your eyes, dancing around like candles flickering in the wind. it’s a beautiful sight, seeing you scared. he loves it, he thinks—nudging your cheek a little more. “answer me.”

you flinch back at the harsher tone he uses, the one that makes your skin crawl and you immediately lower your head in an obedience that comes with much training. “‘m sorry,” you say in one hesitated breath, shutting away those darling eyes when shouto drags a thumb over your bottom lip after popping the smoke stick between his own. you lean into him, slightly, foolishly trusting the man with your life. “‘m sorry… i am. r-really, i am—“

you’ve always been meek, todoroki knows that. he’d picked you up from a rundown pound after a hit of inspiration— a whole collection he’d design based off of black and white spots. it had been hard sourcing an amount of Dalmatian hybrids that large— especially after his flimsy childhood friend deku darling and his clumsy pianist partner eijirou had rejected his proposal to take their lot off their hands. they didn’t like the idea of him using real fur, real spots to make a work of art.

out of the bunch he’d brought, shouto kept you. the little pup who cowered in the corner, kept out of sight and out of mind. so instead of turning you into a purse or pair of boots or the fluffy fur coat he’d dreamed of… todoroki kept you, because you were most afraid of him, like you’d soil yourself or cry if the devil popped up to say hello— you didn’t love him, or pretend to at first. you were as real as could be, you didn’t fake it just to be near shouto.

you were perfect.

“c’mon pet, sit with me.” standing to his full height, looming over you— shouto hooks two fingers under your collar, the one he had custom made for you in his colours of red and white, dragging you over to the couch placed in the centre of the room. the leather digs into your skin, your eyes bulging at the lack of aid which fizzles across your empty little brain. “did you miss me, today?” 

you sit back on your haunches when todoroki sinks into the couch, your teary eyes instantly and obediently shooting down to his half-hard cock as he man-spreads in his seat. fear breeds obedience, the more scared you are the easier it had been for shouto to train you to behave how he wanted, to be used how he wanted. 

nodding, you whine and shouto tuts in disapproval. 

“your words, darling.” 

“i d-did, i missed you s-shouto!” you perk up a little too quickly at the pet name, smaller-than-his hands resting on the swell of the designer’s thigh before your ears flatten back as if you know that you’ve made a mistake, leaning your baby fat cheek on his leg in hopes of making an apology. “i-i mean sir!” 

“what a good girl you are.”

shouto leers down at you, his eyes glinting with iniquity— the glistening gem colours darkening as if raging stormy clouds had blocked out the sun. he reaches out to pet you, and though you wince it’s easy for you to keen into his touch at the slightest hint of praise. “is that why you touched yourself while i was away?” he tilts his head, lips in a faux but cold pout as you simper out for him. “i can smell it on you, you filthy little mutt, soaked on your skin, slicked up on those precious fucking thighs.” suddenly, he grips your puppy dog ears, and the wag of your excited tail slows to a stop. “you disappoint me. you couldn’t even wait until i returned home. for you.” 

for you. 

only when your eyes brim with apologetic and fat tears, does shouto let go of your sore spotted ear— amused in how you sniffle, frozen in your place by fear. but there’s love in his eyes too, taking the form of heart shaped pupils as his gaze hones in on your messy, teary state. there should be hate blooming in your chest instead of love and yearning. this is the man that took you from your family; saw you as nothing more than fabric between stitches and buttons every time you whined and called out for the pups in your litter. 

tapping his food against the floor again, shouto commands your attention. “i’ve worked so hard to keep you safe, pet, you know that’s why i work so hard,” one hand guides yours to the bulge between your owner’s thighs while the other brushes over the pink curve of your bottom lip. “designing and designing…” he pulls you up close, hunching over you at the same so that you’re a breath’s width apart. 

your breathing is ragged, chest heaving in anticipation as shouto parts his lips— letting a clear, heavy wad of drool drip from his mouth onto the palette of your eager puppy tongue. 

“do you know what i made?” 

the question barely registers in your mind as you swallow a haziness of lust taking over— clouding your eyes and a hunger to please clawing it’s way up your throat. “nuh-uh,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head up for more, earning another glob of spit on your tongue. your tiny little hand starts to move on it’s own accord, pawing back and forth, back and forth against your owner’s dress pants. your tail picks up again, adorably swishing from side to side feeling shouto throb beneath your talented little fingertips— blood pulsing through his clothed girth. 

“do i have to tell you again, pet? use your words.” todoroki relents, taking your lip between his teeth— taunting you, nearly kissing you but not quite because he knows how much you need it. he knows that if he keeps you on the blurred line between pain and pleasure, fear and felicity…you’ll behave accordingly, become easily malleable into the perfect pet. 

“i-i’m not sure, sir.” 

“spots.”

it’s so adorable how you go rigid, turning to stone though your heart beats in your chest and your hand rubs harder, greedier at the hard on growing beneath shouto’s expensive clothes. your eyes continue to sparkle too, with desperation to take his cock deep into your salivating mouth, pink tongue rolling out like a puppy in the wind. he sees the way your thighs stick together, grazing one another as your hole slicks itself up— ready for the taking. if he could bend you over, pull your ass cheeks apart, todoroki has no doubt that your little wagging tail would be covered in strings of your potent arousal, oozing in thick waves from your spasming puppy cunt.

he knows this for a fact, not only because hybrids like yourself are wetter, messier to aid the breeding process, but because you love being scared just as much as you so pathetically adore todoroki. you enjoy the flicker of your brain between fight or flight, how he makes your blood run cold or threatens your life as if it hangs in the balance. 

mistakenly, you love shouto todoroki— and you think he might feel the same about you. you think if you behave and perform tricks, if you’re obedient just like he had taught you to be..that he might keep you safe. cherish you. 

maybe that’s all true, maybe cruella isn’t so cruel. maybe he finds it in his ice laden heart to care for you just a bit… and not just because you’re a cute little pup trained to suck his pretty dick.

“i’m thinking of making another fur coat,” a wicked chuckle rumbles the designers throat like thunder in a storm, only interrupted by his hips that shoot up to grind into your hesitating hand— the one that feels out the lengthy shape of him as his precum smears against the fabric of his underwear in opaque white. he drags a finger over your face, looks with hooded eyes as your lashes brush against your cheek and you drag your tongue over his clothed stiff cock. shouto adores your tremble…you think that he might hit you. 

you’d deserve it, and he had before—useless little mutts like you needed to know their place if you wanted to stick around. “that’s…that’s nice sir,” you stutter, holding back on your brainless babbles, your hips gyrating into the floor beneath you, unbred and leaky hole clenching around nothing. 

a reflex out of fear.

shouto hums, tilting your chin up to face him when your mouth hits his seedy tip through the fabric of his clothes— the heat from your sloppy tongue penetrating through the rough linen layers. “so, pet, if you want to make sure i don’t turn you into something even prettier… into something nice for me to wear,” todoroki sneers huskily, tinged with evil while he uses his grip on you to shove your face into his lap roughly. “then i suggest, you open up that sweet mouth of yours and let me feed you my cock, hm?” that’s how shouto todoroki gets you hooked, he has you running on the fumes of survival instincts— trained to love him, do absolutely anything for him despite how cruelly he may treat you.

though your crystalline puppy dog eyes are screwed shut and your spotted ears, sweaty and sore and pinned to your skull— you manage to pick up on the clink of todoroki’s gucci belt, making you growl low and impatiently. the desire to taste his cum, make him happy, shoots through you like a sedative injected into your veins, targeting your red blood cells and wrapping around them to spread obedience through you. yet again, against your will, you’re coaxed into the dark, cruel enigma that is shouto todoroki, letting him set fire to your body and take over any logical thought in your mind.

cunt dripping, juices sweet as ripened fruit— you peel back the layers of shouto’s garments ( though his pants sit at his slender hips, not fully pulled down )…a mean chuckle resounding in the sex tainted air in the room as you reveal his cock to your innocent stare, letting him lean back into the leather couch. he’s longer than he is thick, mushroomed tip a little purple with blue-tinted veins running up and down the length of him, a shade rivalling his own hungry eyes as he observes your next moves. the entirety of him pulses in your soft grip, the scent of his arousal bleeding from his cockhead sending your dalmation puppy instincts into overdrive. todoroki hisses, painfully hard, as you take him gently between your fingers— your thumb moving with uncertainty to rub his pre into his tip sweetly. 

you’re almost ashamed of how much your mouth starts to water, the strings of your own saliva connecting the roof of your mouth to your tongue that writhes in place— aching to taste him, pleasure him with all that you can. the prominent adam’s apple of shouto’s throat bobs, watching with lustful mismatched eyes as you inch forward like a predator hunting it’s prey— reverting back to animalistic instincts while your pupils dilate. his face scrunches, a haughty moan vibrating in his chest when you grip him fully so you can guide him to your mouth—little hand dwarfed by the size of his cock, soft palm grazing the forked vein on the underside of his shaft as it throbs. “oh pet,” todoroki‘s words are drawled, lips between his teeth. “come on, be good.” you do your best to appease him, dragging his bulbous and creamy tip along the seam of your lips, kitten licking him to test the patience of your owner. 

you’re frightful that you might have fucked up when you hear his hands slap down against the leather sofa before shouto drags you by your Dalmatian ears off of his girth, his own breathing irratic and irregular— cruel and cold eyes now blazing with hunger. you look up nervously, a whimper brewing on your wet, pre cum glossed lips to find the smoke stick now between his lips ( he’d lost it when kissing you. ). 

“help me light it while you get me hard.” he grunts quietly, voice dipping an octave, dripping with a threat. as if he’s promising you danger if you danger if you don’t comply. he fumbles with his loose left pocket for a light after shoving the smoke stick past your wet, arousal soaked lips— maintaining eye contact as he flicks the lighter in front of the rolled tobacco. even though you can tell that todoroki is heavily aroused; you have no choice but to do what he says. he dominates your life, decides whether or not you stay as a fuckable pet or get turned into the next best fashion item. he has power over you even when his dick pulses in your hand and you squeeze him softly, letting his precum guide your movements as you start to palm him to a slow and steady rhythm. once the smoke stick in your mouth is lit, the flame threatening you, shouto takes it from you and places it between his own lips— puffing a ring of smoke into your face. 

your wet puppy nose twitches unhappily, but you know that protesting will only end badly for you. that doesn’t seem to calm the racing heartbeat in your puppypussy, however, drooling at the idea of being scolded by your owner. 

shouto leans back, tousled half and half hair thrown over the back of the couch— his flesh sticking to it, only caused by the cold sweat your temperate mouth has him in. both of you moan when you finally take him into your mouth, sinking down on him until your nose is pressed against milky flesh just like you’d practiced before. yours is desperate and needy, shouto’s raspy— proud at how well his little pup treats him.

of course, todoroki had to train you to suck cock too, breaching the innocence of your mouth despite your whimpered out protests at the time. he’d soon fucked it into your throat that if you wanted to live, you wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

“y-you, oh fuck—“ shouto lets out a throaty hybrid noise, a lewd mix between an amused laugh and a deep moan as you flex your saliva laden tongue against the underside of his dick— taking a puff of his tobacco before looking down at you with so much love you might even think it was real. “you’re so pretty pet, so… so pretty.” he knows he’s done a good thing by keeping you, cruella; shouto todoroki brought to his knees by the sinful heat of your hell searing mouth, making him repent for everything he’s ever done wrong. “were you scared, pretty? t-that why you’re taking my cock so fucking well?”

all you can do it nod, swallowing the designer down eagerly in response— a resounding hum sending chills running down his spine as teeth and tongue vibrate around his shaft. you can’t help but let your awe-filled eyes flutter shut at the heaviness of todoroki on your tongue, drooling and dribbling above the place— soaking through his clothes that probably cost more than an entire litter of Dalmatian hybrids such as yourself. he oozes copious sums of precum, thick enough to glue your mouth shut ( like peanut butter for puppies ), filling you up and luring you into going after more. 

pleasing him more.

your cheeks swell while you paw desperately at shouto’s ruined lap— breathing deep through your nose before you feel the weight of his hand right between your sensitive puppy dog ears. he tugs at the twitching limbs, twisting them while pushing you down on his aching cock. your throat contracts, cheeks hollowing until you’ve swallowed him down to the base and you’re practically gagging on the length of him, tip brushing against your uvula lips k the way down. poor puppy, you flinch at the slight twinge of pain from where shouto begins to pound your mouth roughly, balls slapping against your chin, slurping mixed with his yowls of delight filling combining with the sweat and sex loaded air. when you flinch, your teeth graze at the sensitive veins wrapping around shouto— making him choke just like you, on a puff of his smoke stick. 

“fucking mutt, oh—shit!” he snarls, yanking you off of his tender and red, smarting cock— not caring of the way he holds you hurts you. “watch your fucking mouth, pretty. or i really will turn you into my next fur coat, darling.” the warning is firm, rattling you to your core, your mouth even more so wet and salacious at the fear shouto strikes in you. you’re back on him before you know it, his hips jutting up into the molten heat of your mouth, tip hitting the inside of your cheek, making him shudder every time. todoroki would be lying if he wasn’t obsessed with the way your floppy Dalmatian ears bounded the more he rolled his hips into your mouth, fucking your face. he was even more delighted by your sharp canines just brushing over his shaft, but he wouldn’t admit that. 

loosening his tie, he throws his head back in a drawn out gripe, his moans raising a pitch when you grip his swollen balls, full of cum and roll them between dainty fingers. he pulls his smoke stick from his lips, tongue darting out to wet them as he taps the ash against your pretty face. “i think i’ll get you off pet, since you missed me so much. since i feel so bad for scaring you.” todoroki coos with faux sympathy, head lolling down to get a good look at your tear stained cheeks and your clumped together lashes. his dual toned hair now askew. 

stilling in surprise, you yelp in shock as shouto shoves a boot between your arousal painted thighs— pressing the toe against your aching, untouched clit that's barely covered by the flimsy baby-doll shorts you usually wear. they’re coated in your sweet honey, and your owner’s mouth hangs open; mocking the darling mewl that would leave your own if you weren’t being stuffed full of cock. 

the boot nestles perfectly at your cunt, spreading your swollen pussy  lips apart and expostulating it’s in your sweltering heat. “you’re this wet? from hardly being touched?” he mocks you, pulling his foot back to stimulate your core. “oh darling, you’re soaked, pathetically so.” it is; it’s embarrassing how turned on you are from being threatened, fucked like your mouth is a flesh light. how you want him to love you even though you could be killed at any second. “grind that pretty pussy down on me pup, suck me off good and maybe I’ll let you cum.” 

doing as you’re told, you work yourself down on shouto— tail thumping against the floor while you circle your hips over the cool leather of his shoe, the material pulling back the hood on your clit and sending shockwaves of dopamine across your brain. puppy dog eyes cross, with tongue running it’s owl circles along todoroki’s shaft. the fact that he looms over you, has all the power in the world to end you servers as your own personal adrenaline but you don’t dare deny that getting him off, gets you off too. 

despite trying not to fall apart at every lick and suck you give him, sweat shines on todoroki’s pale winter skin— just as cold as he is, but maybe his evil heart melts a little, maybe having fur is less valuable to him when you weakly pull off him, and your precum-spit glossed lips encapsulate his seedy cockhead as if to makeout with it, running the tip of your tongue through his sensitive slit. “that’s it pet, swallow me down. earn that right to cum.” simpering, shouto grabs the sides of your head— holding you in place as his ploughs his hips and dick shallowly into o-shape of your mouth, battering about inside of it. 

the cigarette he smokes just barely burns marks into the black spots or your ears, making you whimper out despite desperately thrusting down against your owner’s foot, practically riding it while a tight knot forms in your lower stomach and your puppycunt gushes about the place. 

todoroki lets you go once he’s exerted himself, a mop of sweaty red and white locks dangling over the back of the couch. the world wouldn’t believe it it they saw their beloved cruella now; twitching and heaving as he stares his Dalmatian puppy down, marvelling in the way you spit down onto his bulbous and dripping cockhead before joining you in doing the same. the frothy white and bubbly mix crudely runs down his shaft, and you’re quick to lick it up from the balls to his slit again. 

“oh fuck, pretty darling. you’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?” 

you don’t answer, jerking the man off as you look up at him so debauched; yet so innocent. he can see you fight the cross in your eyes as he wiggles his boot against your hardened pleasure nub, a cream staining the leather.

“w-words pet. tell me or you really won’t get to cum.” 

you remember your desperation to be adored by shouto, as well as the release that sneaks up on you. so you find your words though your voice is hoarse from your throat being ravaged and decorated with precum. “i want you always sir,” you plead. “for you to always feel g-good with me!” 

shouto grins, menacing, borderline crazy— it makes your pussy lips quiver while he angles his foot up, right as you drag your fluttering entrance over the toe. “you know just what to say to get me close, darling,” he says, grabbing hold of his own dick to tap it against your slobbery puppy tongue, feeding it to you again and thriving in the way that you tilt your head, angling it so he can fuck your cheek makinf your skin bulge. “gonna cum…pet, ‘n you’re gonna be obedient. hold it, until i’m finished with you…or you’re dead. meat.” 

he punctuates his words with two rough thrusts, flinching with ecstasy, voice trembling. todoroki doesn’t let up in teasing your pulsating pussy, shaking his foot as you bump and grind against the shoe to your hearts content— fighting not to lose your orgasm while simultaneously dragging shouto to the edge of his own. it’s obscene the way both your mouth and cunt squelch, your owner leaking ungodly amounts of arousal into your mouth and down your chin ( though you’re no better, hot wet pussy ruining his shoes for good ).

todoroki  loses his pace, smoke stick just missing his lips from how irregular and languid his thrusts are and before you know it, he’s taken a hold of your sore dog ears once more— his high takint him by surprise. “holy fuck, that’s it pet, be a good fucking dog, take it all. my seed.” the world around shouto todoroki falls away into mismatched pieces, warm and viscous cum flooding your mouth in waves; and you can’t even stop, sloppily  worshipping his cock and all they it offers you as if todoroki is your god.

he might as well be, the way controls whether you live or die; even as you stare up at hearts dazzling your eyes. you need him to love you, to be proud of you. “so g-good, god pet. you’re wonderful,” the cruelty of cruella praises you, still filling you the brim with seed that sits salty on your tongue. todoroki takes a drag of his cigarette, feeling loopy, happier than ever with his decision to keep you. 

lewdly, he drags shapes onto your swollen clit too, rocking his shoe against you— amused at how you struggle to keep your release at bay. tapping out the ash of his tobacco one last time, todoroki puts it out by singing the end of his cigarette into your spotted puppy ear again— smiling at your low, whistle tone whine.

“cum.” he commands, smearing his ruined cock against your lips. “or else, you won’t get another chance.” 

fear breeds obedience and as if on queue, your body follows the order— a clear stream of arousal splashing out hard against the floor from your raw, sticky cunt. the world is a blinding white, black spots eating at the corner of your vision. 

by the time you come to, world famous designer cruella— shouto todoroki has returned to petting your hair with gentle care that doesn’t make you fear him any less but makes you love him a little more. he chuckles, red and white hair shaking with it as you sleepy nuzzle his thigh— a mess of cum and tears and spit. 

so shouto snaps a picture of you, a perfect muse for his next design. 

his obedient and well disciplined, precious dalmation puppy hybrid. 

more precious than any spot in the world.

#𓆩♱𓆪. 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑'𝟐𝟐 #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #todoroki x you #todoroki imagine #todoroki fanfic #todoroki fic #shouto todoroki smut #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto smut #tteokdoroki #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #todoroki thirst #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #mha smut #tw: smoking #tw: fear play

[avocado-frog]

ROYGBIV tag

Tagged by @elsie-writes and it took a. frightening amount of time to spell roygbiv.

---

Red- Ryan backstory chapter

The door opened, and Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, holding onto Ryan's wrist. 

Footsteps, the rustling of paper.

"Those aren't the regular shoes," Sam whispered, and pointed. Ryan turned to look. They were red tennis shoes, not black boots. His eyebrows scrunched.

He wanted to see what was going on. Despite Sam's whispered protests and his own spike of dread, he crawled out from under the bed and stood up. If he was quiet, the intruder might not see him.

---

Orange- Rosemary chapter 21

"You should make a fire," Jaxon suggested. Leo frowned a little.

"It's probably too cold," she whispered. "No heat to generate flames out of. Plus, I've got my casts."

Still, she rubbed two fingers on each hand against each other in small, quick movements, eyebrows knitted as she stared down. Gradually, her hands got redder with heat, that turned orange, that turned into a tiny flicker of a flame on her finger. Her eyebrows knitted together in concentration, struggling to keep it.

Jaxon moved a bit closer, and Leo moved her hand a little, setting the small flame in between them. If her hands weren't in casts, she would be able to make it bigger. That was enough, for now.

"Careful not to move too fast," Leo reminded him. "The flame will go out."

"Right." Jaxon tapped his finger against his knee and contemplated asking his next question. Leo, reasonably, wouldn't get angry, and he thought that they were both too tired to fight with each other. "How's it going with your ghost mom?"

---

Yellow- Rosemary chapter 22

Sam wandered over to stand behind them, leaning over their shoulder to watch them draw. Sam wasn't any good at it, but he liked to watch. 

The page Dylan was drawing had a bunch of sketches of planets drawn in colored pens. An orange and yellow sun, lots of silver and yellow stars, purple Saturns with magenta rings. Green grass sat at the bottom of the page, with purple flowers- lilacs were easy to recognize, but Sam couldn't name the rest- growing through the lines.

This time, the bunny with the flopped ears was laying down against the bird with the green shadow. Next to the bird went a small drawing of a planet- Saturn, Sam thought- and a few purple stars. Next to the rabbit was black circles drawn in pen, with a green pen that became the petals to flowers. Dylan picked up a brush, dipped it in the red paint, and made a few, small hearts in between them.

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Green- Dahlia chapter 14

On the left was a large, dark green rose bush. Tall, sculpted into an arch. It was surrounded by dark bushes and thick leaves, bundles of little flowers. Lily said that the garden was safe.

And on the right, Ryan froze again. He hadn't seen it before. Cylindrical, tall, white bricks, fenced off, white wildflowers grew around it. He grew up there. Dylan stared at it, too.

"Nightmare in the middle, or horror on the left?" Dylan tried to joke. It went unspoken that neither of them wanted to go to the lab.

"Nightmare in the middle," Ryan shrugged. "How bad can a circus be?"

He knew what circuses were. They weren't scary, they were a bit loud and the people swinging and jumping off of wires made him a little nervous, but they weren't that bad.

Dylan frowned. "Don't ever ask that."

---

Blue- Rosemary chapter 12

With her heart stuttering in her chest, Leo forced an eye open as far as it would go. Which was not very far, but it was better than nothing at all. 

Her vision was blurred, swirled colors of dark grey and black and navy blue. Shapes started to form. Leo blinked, and her eye threatened to stay shut.

When they managed to pry both eyes open, blinking hard to get them to focus- halfway through that before they realized that they still needed contacts that they probably didn't have.

Okay. All Leo needed to do was figure out what was going on. This would be easy. Contrary to popular belief, Leo didn't need to be able to see.

---

Indigo- none

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Violet- Dahlia chapter 8

The lights flickered, and Leo glanced at the kids, holding hands in a circle around her comatose brother like some ritual.

Leo couldn't say she was a fan of this. The lights flickered again. Some inky, thick, black substance dripped from between Dylan and Elliot's hands, and then Dylan and Ryan's, creating a small puddle on the floor. The lights flickered. Dylan's eyes snapped open, a bright, glowing, vibrant violet. The same ink poured from their eyes. And nose. And mouth. Their head jerked backwards. A scream.

"Fuck that." Leo stood up, turned around, and shut the door. "Fuck that."

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Tags: @@the-down-upside-finch @briannaswords + open tag because i can't think of anyone else + no pressure of course

#writing #wip: dahlia #wip: rosemary #tag game

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Aricka Munson, Aricka Hopper, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove and the 8th grade dance

(Pre Aricka Munson x Billy Hargrove, pre Aricka Hopper x Steve Harrington)

(Via Pinterest)

(Top to bottom: Aricka Munson, Billy Hargrove, Aricka Hopper, Steve Harrington)

Aricka and Billy:

He asked her after basketball practice let out. Aricka was dressed in her Hawkins middle school cheer uniform, holding her pompoms as she headed back to the locker room, when Billy jogged over to her, cheeks flushed red and curls askew from practice. “Hey,” he says, pausing to catch his breath. She smiles at him.

“Hi Billy,” she says. “What’s up?”

“The dance- it’s this Friday. Do- do you want to go together-? It can be as friends, no pressure.” Her smile widened as she processed his question.

“Oh, of course-! I’d love to go to the dance with you Billy,” she says. “My uncle could take us, we could ride in the back of his pickup. It would be fun!”

Only Aricka Munson would think sitting in a dress in the back of a pickup would be fun. But that was why he liked her so much. She made him feel safe, but also kinda like his insides would light on fire if she hugged him too long.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he says. “I’ll wait for you and walk you home.” The two part, but not before Aricka could give him one of those hugs he was too used to getting now.

Aricka couldn’t wait to tell Chrissy what had just happened. And Billy couldn’t wait until Friday.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aricka and Steve:

He asked her after theater rehearsal ended. Steve was helping stage manage the fall play- Dorothy in Wonderland- and Aricka was the main character- her first lead role.

“Hey, movie star,” Steve says, as Aricka makes her way over to him, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You looked good today.” She smiles soflty.

“Thanks Stevie.” They walk out to the front in silence, and then he asks,

“So- the dance is coming up Friday. We make a good dancing duo- would you- maybe want to go with me?” His face was bright red and she saw how his hands were shaking slightly. His nervousness was endearing; and she melted at the thought that he was nervous about asking her to the dance. She takes his hands and smiles.

“What time are you gonna get me?” She asked. He grins down at her.

“Is seven too early?”

“No, Steve. Seven sounds perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aricka and Billy:

It was 6:45 when Billy arrived at the door to Aricka’s trailer. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants, brown shoes and a pink polo shirt- he’d had to escape out the window, but it was worth it, to take his best friend and crush to the dance. In his hand he held a special gift- something special just for Aricka.

He brushed a few leaves off his shirt and straightened his collar as Wayne opened the door.

“William.” Wayne insisted on calling Billy by his full name, but coming from him, it didn’t bug him as much. “Come on in and sit a spell, she’s still getting ready.” He claps a hand on Billy’s shoulder and guides him into the kitchen portion of the trailer. “Looks like you got into a tussle with a forest. Might wanna fix that before she comes out.” Billy swipes a hand through his hair and winces at the few leaves that came off.

“Sorry sir, I had to sneak out- my old man wouldn’t have appreciated my color choices.” Wayne scoffs.

“As if you wearing pink is gonna tarnish his pitiful reputation. He does enough damage on his own.” He looked like he might insult Neil more but then Aricka breezed in and Billy truly felt he now knew the difference between pretty and gorgeous-

Aricka was wearing a light blue dress made of a material that seemed to float around her, with tank top straps, and she had brown sandals with a white strap on, and her hair- usually held up in a ponytail- was curled and framing her face, and she had a bleached denim jacket on. If he wasn’t used to her usual look, he never would’ve noticed the subtle tinge of blush on her cheeks and nose, nor the glimmer of lipgloss.

She blushed as she realized Billy was already there, and dug the toe of her sandal into the floor of the kitchen. “Hi B,” she said. He waves casually and smiles, standing and walking to her, like this was any other day.

“Hi Aricka. I like your dress- is it new?” She blushes and nods.

“Got it special for tonight.” He holds out the paper rose he’d spent hours on making to her, and she lit up, accepting it.

“I won’t even need to water it!” They both laugh and she rushes to her room to set the flower on the table in her room- that used to be Wayne’s, but as Aricka got older he decided she needed her own space as the woman in the house. She came back with something in her hand. “Almost forgot-!”

Billy takes the gift from her and grins as he examines his newest gift from Aricka- a poem about “Billy the Great.” He would spend hours that night reading it, memorizing it, and then carefully tucking it away with his other hidden treasures.

“Are you young’in’s both ready now?” Wayne asks as he reaches for the keys to his truck. Aricka grabs Billy’s hand and smiles at him as they make their way to the dance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aricka and Steve:

If Steve told you he wasn’t nervous at all about taking the police chief’s daughter to the dance- he would be lying to your face. In all honesty; he was petrified. But he was more focused on the fact that tonight he was going to maybe kiss her and tell her that he’d liked her since fourth grade at least- maybe longer.

In his hand he held a slightly squished bouquet of flowers- two pink roses, two sunflowers, and three white lilies, because he knew lilies were her favorite flowers. In a bag in his hand was a necklace that had a key on it- he currently had the reciprocal heart necklace. He just hoped she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

Aricka opened the door and grinned; her eyes widening at the limo waiting for them. “How did that get all the way through there-?” She motioned to the forest.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Steve says; handing her the flowers with a flourish. Then he saw what she was wearing and his heart almost stopped. It was a pale lavender dress that went to her knees, crisscross straps around the neckline, and she wore white and brown sandals. Her hair was half up, half down with a matching purple bow in her hair. “Woah…” he whispered.

She shifted her weight from side to side. “Too much?” She asks. He frantically shook his head.

“No-! No. No you look- you look great. Real great,” he says. “You look beautiful.”

Her face turned a bright pink, “aw.. Stevie…” The nickname made the boy blush too, and he reached for her hand.

“Hi Chief Hopper!” He called into the house. Aricka’s dad waved, finally walking to the door.

“Have her back here by 10:30,” he said. The dance ended at 10, but Hopper knew they’d probably go get ice cream before coming home. Aricka hugs her dad and he holds her a little tighter than usual, kissing the top of her head before sending her on her way. “Have fun you two.”

“Bye dad!”

“Bye Chief!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Billy and Aricka*

The middle school basketball star and cheerleader made their way into the gym, Aricka gasping in delight at the decorations- the theme was Starry Night. Thousands of glow in the dark stars filled the gym ceiling, and models of the solar system were hung on thick black cords. The floor had a projection to make it look like the galaxy, swirling and spinning around them.

Loud music poured from the speakers as they walked in, Aricka spying their friends across the room. “I see Chrissy and Robin!” She says. “Oh, look there’s Eddie and Dori.” Aricka’s twin had been over at their mutual friend Dori Henderson’s house getting ready for the dance.

“Look- Steve-O and Aricka H just got in,” Billy said. Aricka was still holding his hand, their fingers intertwined perfectly as they looked around. He still couldn’t believe it.

Aricka had initiated the contact, pressing their pinkies together in the back of the truck. Billy had flipped his hand over, and she had interlocked their fingers, neither of them saying a word. He had to let go to climb out of the truck, jumping down and then grabbing her by the waist to help her- something that got a look of approval from her uncle Wayne.

“Oh; I love this song! Dance with me Billy,” Aricka said as a slower song began to play. But not just any slow song- “Hopelessly devoted to you,” from Aricka’s favorite musical, Grease. Olivia Newton-John’s voice fills the gym as Billy and Aricka join their friends in the middle of the dance floor, Aricka turning to face Billy as he carefully and admittedly a bit awkwardly moves to put his hands on her waist, hers wrapping around his neck.

“I know I'm just a fool who's willing

To sit around and wait for you…” Aricka sang under her breath, and Billy merely smiles as shakes his head and he joins in,

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do?..” her eyes snap to his, and a pink blush covers her cheeks as she continues,

“I'm hopelessly devoted to you

But now there's nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm out of my head

Hopelessly devoted to you…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Steve and Aricka*

Olivia Newton-John’s voice filled the gym as Aricka and Steve swayed together, his arms encircling her back, her hands on his shoulders. The two had eyes only for each other. They might’ve only been in eighth grade, but they knew what they had was more than platonic affection for each other. “Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do

I'm hopelessly devoted to you…” Aricka sang, and Steve joined her on the chorus,

“But now there's no way to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm outta my head

Hopelessly devoted to you…”

Aricka’s stomach flip flopped in cartwheels, her palms were sweating as she realized what was happening-

She was at the dance with the most popular boy in her grade- her best friend!- and she was falling in love like she was a character in her favorite Disney movie.

Steve took her hand and spun her around before pulling her back close, seeing Billy do the same to Aricka Munson out of the corner of his eye. “Aricka…” he said as the song ended. “I really really like you. Like- for more than just a friend.”

Aricka smiled that sweet; beautiful smile of hers. “Really?” She asks. “I really really like you, too. Like- more than just a friend like.”

Steve grinned at her, that big Stevie grin, and leaned down to kiss her cheek as she laughed. “So- will you be my girlfriend?” He asks.

“I thought you’d never ask. Yes-!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Aricka and Billy*

“Dancing Queen,” was playing, Aricka and Billy screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs. They hadn’t left each other’s side all night, neither wanting it to end. Aricka laughed and looked over at Billy and grabbed his hand, and he spun her around twice.

Aricka was the first person to see past the top layer he showed. She was the first to realize that something was wrong. She got him help when she could and she made sure he had a place to go when it was Really Bad.

“Can we talk somewhere?” He asks over the pounding music. Aricka nods, gripping his hand and letting him lead the way out.

As soon as they were alone, Billy allowed himself the luxury of hugging Aricka, who had no objections to his actions. “I need to tell you something, but I don’t want to ruin the first good friendship I’ve had.”

“Billy you can’t even ruin our friendship,” Aricka promised. “You know I love you no matter what.” That was another thing he’d had to get used to after befriending Aricka- her love was given as freely as her hugs.

“I- you know. You too,” he mumbled with a red hot blush. She smiles and rubs his arms assuredly. “And I- I like you. Like- you know- how a boyfriend likes a girlfriend.”

Her smile widened and she squeezes his arms. Carefully. Not roughly. “Oh, Billy…” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you. I know that must’ve been hard for you to say.” She really did- she knew feelings weren’t his strongest point. But she also knew he was trying to get better at it. “I like you like that, too.”

His eyes lit up; and he eagerly scooped her back up in his arms, swinging her side to side as she giggled. “Willyoubemygirlfriend,” he asks in one breath. She giggles against his shoulder, and that was really all the answer he needed.

“Nothing would make me happier,” she says.

~~~~~~~

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @callsign-revenge @tsundere-selfship

#Aricka x Billy #we saved each other #billy my beloved #gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight #Aricka x Steve #Aricka x Steve H #stevie my love… #good old fashioned lover boy

[carryforthtradition]

Thank a Veteran - November the 11th

In November we begin to think about being thankful for all we have. Each November 11th in America, we observe Veterans Day. Veteran's Day is a day of giving recognition to those who sacrificed for our freedom . This is for the volunteers and those who were also drafted. Maybe some don't realize that not all veterans were volunteers. I myself had forgotten and was reminded of it recently.

 By taking my kids to a WWII reenactment in Vincennes, IN, a WWII Vet recently gave his experiences. He brought me to tears on what he shared and it hit me in my heart in a new way with a deeper appreciation of what these men and women have done for us all. It gave me a new appreciation for the freedoms we have today. 

  I also interviewed another WWII veteran that was there and recorded it for you to see. He is so positive and lively. He is a fortunate man to have survived one of the most dangerous places during the war. Have a listen.

During this trip, I learned more about WWII than I ever had in the past. I spoke to reenactors who not only dress and act the part but have studied this history so well. They share a lot about what happened in different parts of the world during that time. History is a part of who we are and living it for them is keeping the lessons alive.

 For an example, they say WWII Veterans came from the "Greatest Generation."  Why were they called the Greatest Generation?

 Well, the best way I can understand this is by my meeting with a WWII US Pilot named Charles Huppert. He was a pilot with the 486th Bomb Squadron of the 340th Bomb Group of the great 57th Bomb Wing. He was the first that told me about the true story that is now called the Great Escape.  70 soldiers from around the world escaped in one night from one particular camp.  Charles was moved to a different POW camp just before the escape happened to live to tell the world about it. 

 Charles began to tell me that to escape the soldiers decided to dig a tunnel in the ground made of mostly sand. They dug 30 ft down! To see, they needed electricity as there wasn’t enough air for candles.  They began to bargain for wire w/ the German soldiers with  items that the Red Cross was sending overseas. They knew how to make the electricity with the Klim cans (milk cans that were given to the POWs from the Red Cross that were called Klim - milk spelled backwards.) They added the wire to the milk cans to make the electricity.   They needed to build the tunnel - no problem they said as they  used the boards from their beds. They needed passports to travel out of the country after the escape - no problem they said as they used rubber from the bottom of their shoes. They needed to get rid of the sand - no problem they said as they became instant gardeners to help spread the sand from their pockets a little at a time. These determined soldiers finally did escape in the evening!  I don't want to tell you the ending here as you may want to watch the movie called the Great Escape with Steve McQueen.

 Not having the life skills to do that, I may have given up easily in such a situation, and easily could have felt sorry for myself for being in a POW camp like that for over a year!

 AsI listened to Charles tell his story, I gained a new understanding. I felt that I needed to hear it told, to help me understand why it’s better to never ever give up! Before I may have had too much fear to handle a POW camp overseas! I am not sure if I would have even thought about doing anything like it. I could see myself waiting to be rescued. But they did everything they could to seize the day, which was quite impressive!

This to me is an example of why they were the greatest generation. While being at the re-enactment, I realized there were all kinds of stories like this! So much more than I could have even imagined. They really did give their all!

Being that WWII Veterans are around 100 years old, I thought their stories were precious to share this Veteran’s Day.

It would be great to watch the Great Escape sometime in November with young adults who maybe can make a difference in their life, like it did mine.

And please be sure to Thank a Veteran this Veteran’s Day and anytime you see someone with their veteran hat on - they are wearing it to remind us of what they did for all!

Happy Veteran’s Day to all who have served and to those that are today.

https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/courierpress/name/charles-huppert-obituary?id=12072795

The info is given more credit here in Charles obit.

#Laura's Heartland #WWII #Veterans #Remembrance #November 11th

[maximumninjavoid]

The third chapter of the new unnamed fic

And the worst part? I had it mostly done and then Writer Plus hiccuped and it was gone......so then I had to re-do it. So, what,, now I’m my own beta?  I guess cause I couldn’t pay anyone to read this shit.....and I’ve added characters that are thinly veiled copies modeled after actual humans I know and or actual humans I hope to know. And and all errors are my own.

I drove home from work with the top down and the heat on. I know. I do it a lot. The sun was still out, it was pretty and there's not much space you have to heat in The Teeny Car. Maybe THAT was the one dumb ass thing I could do with my windfall. I could have her spiffed up and give her that V8 transplant i'd been dreaming about. Silly, isn't it? When most girls were mad about horses, I was mad about horsepower. There's the proof I was that unicorn. I could drive the he'll out of a manual transmission, parallel park, cook AND suck dick. Quite the catch, I know. I took my bra off, priorities you know, puttered around the house until I couldn't put it off any more, and then I checked. I thought I may have been mistaken. I checked again. It was still 2020, so, I checked again, and then I screamed. Two hundred and twenty seven million dollars. Well. That, as they say, changes everything. I sat down in the middle of the front room. I wasn't entirely certain my legs would hold me up. Remember all those plans? I sure couldn't. I realize some of you won't understand but I felt like a pinball machine that hit TILT. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference". I grabbed a pen and a notebook and started taking notes. People I wanted to take care of, people who could eat a bag of dicks and explode. What I was going to do until they figured out this Covid shit, because I couldn't travel, could I? I needed a lawyer. Fast. And I needed investing advice. And I wanted to do things that mattered. Maybe try and undo some of the things that cheeto shitgibbon did. I had some dinner and thought about all the wild things I could do. I could go to Barrett Jackson, with a car carrier, and buy a bunch of resto mods. I could buy the house next door and move in my own personal mechanic, and build a ten car garage; with a lift and a turn table.... Like the bat cave. I could go take one of those evasive driving courses. I could hire a bodyguard. That one almost made me aspirate. Don't laugh that hard while you're eating. I don't recommend it. As I crawled into bed under the weighted blanket I thought, it would be nice to be able to share this with someone. But I'd never know if it was me, or the money they were interested in, would I? As I drifted off I wondered if it really mattered..... Coffee installed I went to work, smiling. I had a huge secret, and still had to go to work, keep getting paid. Good thing I love my work. In between clients I tried to draft my I need a leave of absence request, without actually coming out with the precise reason. I couldn't really cite a family emergency, but I did just find my biological family......Oh. I had to add them to the list. I threw myself into work, coming home at the end of each day devoid of brain cells and *good tired". In my down time I interviewed lawyers, paying each of them so I had attorney client privilege for all things discussed in each interview. I had always joked if I won the lottery, I would still go to work, I would just have a bad attitude. Work the weekend? Nah, I don't think so. But I worked for a different company.....There were people that were going to be wicked pissed when this came to light, but, I couldn't control that. I kept looking for the right lawyer. I will never forget the day I met her. It was warmer than it should have been given the time of year, and we had agreed to meet outside, because Covid. I had a coffee and was waiting, and I swear, it was like a scene out of a film, except there wasn't any soundtrack. She came walking up the street, no, strutting, like she owned the street. Over the knee boots, with heels, a camel colored cashmere coat, hands in her pockets and her hair... It flowed around her, behind her as she moved; and a red so vibrant, not a color found in nature, but it suited her, set off her eyes. Eyes that sparkled, intelligent and with more than a hint of mischief. I had a feeling she might be the perfect co conspirator. Her gloved handshake was warm and firm, she sat down, and I explained my predicament. Within minutes Valentina  Rudenko has already proposed solutions to problems I didn't realize I already had. We drafted a contract on a file folder I had in my bag, had it witnessed by a passer by, and for a healthy percentage of the profits, I had my consigliere. Valentina was going to make certain that there were profits. I handed her a clone of my cell, and a satellite phone. "If that sat phone rings, it's me. If my sat phone rings, its you. Once the funds are claimed it shouldn't take long for all hell to break loose, and you know the plan." She smiled, and it lit up her face. " Here's to the beginning of a beautiful friendship! ". I laughed." Casablanca? Really?" As I walked to my car I had to admit I was maybe a little in love with her. The television coverage was everything I expected, and Ms. Rudenko was flawless. Legs ALL the way up to her neck, dressed in black leather and what I was pretty sure were Loubutains, not that she needed the height; she must have been six foot three, stating that  she was acting on behalf of her client, that she was in fact bound by attorney client privilege, and that the Lottery regulations allowed for a winners agent or representative to claim their prize in lieu of the winner. She read the prepared statement, and it was skillfully delivered. "My name is Valentina Rudenko and my client has chosen to not share this life changing event with the rest of the world. It is their position that this is a sentinel event and as such, privacy is paramount to their ability to process this transition. I have distributed my contact information, in media kits and any and all questions, requests for information, funding, donations, appearances, media inquiries, product endorsements will be handled through my office. Anyone who attempts to circumvent this process will be moved to the back of the line, and placed on the shit list. You do not want to be on my shit list. Prior to my admission to the bar, I served my country in the United States Marine Corps, where I swore an oath to protect and defend this country against all enemies, and be advised that NO ONE HAS EVER RELIEVED ME OF THAT OATH. Thank you. " Flash bulbs went off, reporters shouted questions, and there I sat, in front of my television, cheering. She was flawless! The trusts had been established, shell corporations built, layers of insulation constructed, and I had settled all of my debts. Everyone who had ever helped me out was about to get a windfall. And everything on my credit report was paid, even back to the Paleozoic era. Well, at least the bronze age.

#Where am I even going with this #Yes I PROMISE Henry Cavill WILL show up #There WILL be smut #I have no idea when #YOU ALREADY knew it takes me forever to set stuff up #how do you spell the name of those red bottom shoes #the tags are almost as long as the story #now I see the fun in the tags #this is hysterical

[countrymusiclover]

3 - The witch he needs

Part 4

Princess more than a Nickname

@the-big-bad-klaus @alanaangie24

Caroline's POV

"He seriously called you for a favor. How twisted of a crazy psycho is he!" I blurted out sitting on Bonnie's bed in her room. She texted me to come over right away and didn't involve Elena because she was already stressed about this whole sacrifice thing Klaus has planned. She pulled out a witch book of spells and a notebook throwing it into a bag ready to leave. "Yeah it was weird Care, but maybe if we help him he won't try and kill our friend." Getting to my feet I tilt my head to the side not believing that's in his nature. "You really believe that, Bon?" She shakes her head no heading to my car where we drove to his mansion. "No I don't but that's why you're coming. As my vampire back up just in case."

Bonnie goes inside first with me following behind her where we immediately see Klaus standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Caroline, Bennett witch so glad you could come assist." He spoke smiling my direction making me roll my eyes. "What do you want, Klaus?" He crossed his arms over his chest looking to her. He tilts his head up towards the stairs and we followed him into a bedroom. Bonnie immediately noticed a open coffin to which she walked up asking. "Who is this girl?" I vamp up beside my friend whipping my head around to him with a growl. "Is this one of your victims!" He bawls his hands into fists stomping up in my face and I glare up at him. "For your information, love. She willingly chose to be with me. But if you'd like to be a victim I can surely arrange that!" Bonnie stomped in between us holding her hands up before this gets out of hand. "If I help you can't hurt the people I love. Now tell me about what happened to this girl...what's her name?" Klaus sighs dropping his shoulders simply replying. "Y/n, she used to be a princess."

Y/n's POV

"Nik stop. Stop it, I've already had my portrait done." I squealed trying to knock his scretchbook from his hands as we sit under a tree with fall leaves of orange and red by a small river. He smiled still moving the quill drawing me. "That artist completely failed to capture your beauty, love. But rest assured I'll do a much better job." I rest my back against the tree with my hair loose with two small braids on the side. Wearing a light blue dress and some boots underneath. I hate wearing pinchy shoes so I prefer to wear these. "If you love to draw so much why aren't you an artist?" I asked with a smile watching him stare at me with his legs crossed as he drew.

He bites his lip mumbling out a half mysterious answer. "My parents, specifically my father and I don't get along well. He threw me out." Normally I don't want to pry into his mind but I sense that he's hiding stuff from me. When I find the person I want to be with for the rest of my life. I don't want any secrets, no matter how bad. "Does he give you nightmares. Like Brooke she has nightmares about these people my grandmother calls Night Walkers?" Nik whipped his head up at my question not answering but just staring at me. "Sometimes he does. But I'm more curious about these...Night Walkers did you say?" I nod turning to face him straight on. "To me it seems like an old wives tale. Because if these creatures that have fangs and drink blood do exist that's possibly incredible."

Nik just parts his lips reaching forward intertwining my right hand with his. "Would you meet me here tonight under the stars. There's something I want to show you?" Without hesitation I smiled. Later that afternoon as Brooke and I are sitting in my room my chambers door gets opened by my grandmother rushing her out. "Brooke, I need to speak with my granddaughter alone for a moment." She curtsys leaving the room as she pulled out a silver bracelet. She clips it onto my right wrist with a warning look written on her face. "This will protect you from those creatures as you sleep. You're mother may think I'm crazy but she refuses to tell you the truth of your powers. So this shall protect you." I nod my head still very confused at her words. I would never tell my grandmother that I didn't fear the rumors that creatures such as vampires do exist. They didn't necessarily need to be feared.

Klaus's POV

"So have you figured out how to wake her yet, Bonnie?" I asked leaning in the doorway as the witch sat on the floor reading my mother's grimore in front of her. It's been 500 years since we've been apart and I'm losing my patience. The night those witches preformed the ceremony Elijah managed to get information from them while I wanted to set the whole castle on fire. "No I haven't and you hovering isn't helping." I roll my eyes knowing Caroline is downstairs lisening from the kitchen. She needed a blood bag and we had plenty. Bonnie gets to her feet resting her hands on the side of Y/n's open coffin making the room fill with silence. The witch placed her hand over one of hers suddenly gasping and spinning on her feet to face me. "Did you spell her after she died?" Stepping closer to her shoving my hands in my pockets I shake my head confused. "No she already had vampire blood in her system. Why do you ask?" She grabbed my hand laying it over Y/n's right hand slowly mumbled still in disbelief. "I can't explain it - it's impossible in the nature - but she still has magic running through her veins. I swear I can feel it."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#princess more than a nickname #klaus mikaelson x reader fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x princess reader #joseph morgan #the mikaelson family #caroline forbes #damon salvatore #bonnie bennett #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd fandom #tvd x reader #tvd heretic #royalty #princess #mideval #monarchy #heretic #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated

[awesomerextyphoon]

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy! 

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader 

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule  of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee  @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim​ @blueberrythor​ @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

#loki (marvel) #loki x reader #marvel loki x reader #dark loki #loki x female reader #loki x plus-sized reader #mcu imagine #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu au #loki imagines #loki imagines angst #mcu fanfiction #his match #oge answers #tom hiddleston

[descendantsramblings]

Letters to the Sea-Uma

Uma X Auradon! Reader

Soulmate AU: Everything that is written or drawn on your Soulmate’s skin will appear on your own

I created three days of the Sea Three, Ending it with the Captain. Uses They/Them for the reader 

   They started to wonder if their soulmate didn’t exist, some people did end up that way. Or maybe they just always had ink and paint on their hands already and that’s why they never saw something appear on their skin? Maybe their soul mate didn’t use ink or paint, just pencil and color pencil for things, that would keep things from showing up on their own skin. Or perhaps, they didn’t like writing on themselves? The royal thought of a million reasons why they wouldn’t find something on their skin. They weren’t ready to except the fact that not everyone had a true love. Frustrated, the cap of a pin was yanked off, falling to  the desk as they put the tip of it to their skin, maybe they could just write to them?  “Hello, my name is (Y/n). Is anyone out there?” 

   Felling the tingling of her soulmate on her skin, Uma jumped to check it. The words stared up at her, “Is anyone out there?” Uma traced the words, she loved when things appeared on her skin. Paint in royal blues and shining silvers would randomly cover her fingers, black and red ink smeared on the side of her hand and arm, grocery lists and chemistry notes appearing on her wrist. Whoever her soulmate was, they were artsy and forgetful. And that was precious to the sea witch. She knew this was something she had to respond to, reaching under the bar for her own pen. “Uma, remember the name.” 

    (Y/n) was in class when they felt the tingling on their arm for the first time, the words stared up at them in a handwriting that they found charming. Uma’s ‘r’s were sharp, ‘e’s held a slight point to them, the ‘a’s were hooked, the top nearly touched the loop at the bottom. “Remember the name” as if they would forget, their soulmate existed, that was the most exciting thing to them. Days went by after that, they didn’t feel the tingling again. Apparently making the first move at a conversation couldn’t get them anywhere unless they carried it past the first introduction. So there the royal sat, writing a letter on their left thigh to a person they had never met. 

    “Uma is a really nice name, I’ve never met someone with a name like that. I guess I should tell you about myself? I don’t really know how to do this whole, letters to a stranger thing, but it would be nice to get to know you. I love painting but I guess you can tell that, surely you’re covered by the works of that the same way I am, sorry for that by the way. I also always wanted a cat but I’m allergic so my parents won’t let me, I’m not even deadly allergic though so I don’t see how that’s fair, I’d be fine managing.” 

     Uma sat on her bed, staring down at the letter with a laugh, is that what they were doing now? The girl grabs a pen out of her bag, writing on her right thigh so it wouldn’t cover her soulmate’s writing. She didn’t exactly know what to say to them, the whole soulmate business was weird. Villains weren’t supposed to care about true love, yet there she was, writing a letter the the person who was meant to be the love of her life. 

    “(Y/n) is a nice name, no one has that name around here either. I don’t mind the paint, the ink smearing down my arm can get annoying though, but I won’t hold it against you. I’m not a fan of cats, I always wanted a sea pony though, we have two at school, I help take care of them, even took them home twice. It was the most exciting thing, I love them, I swear to you one of them can recognize me when I walk into the room, she swims right up to the glass of the tank when she sees me. I should stop talking about them though, I don’t want you to think I’m soft.”

   So the pair wrote their letters, (Y/n) on their left leg, Uma on her right. It was a daily thing the royal’s letter would appear while the sea witch was in class, she’d respond when she went home to sleep. (Y/n) would wake up to the words of the girl every morning, smile planted on their face. Everything was perfect, going smooth, the royal loved to hear the girl ramble about sea ponies, the sea witch would smile as she read about the new paints and shoes the royal bought. Then one day the sea witch was hit hard. At the end of the letter stood the worst thing she could imagine. “So I never asked who your parents were. Mine are royals, (Your favorite princess) to be exact.” How would they react, knowing that Uma was on the Isle? They would never meet, they couldn’t. Villain kids were stranded in that barrier, no way she’d ever know the royal’s face, how they laughed. So she didn’t respond. 

     “Uma? I understand why you never responded to my last letter, it was rude of me to ask,” the waterproof ink started to cover their arm, “I was there, at the cotillion, it’s crazy to think that I was just a few yards away from you. I’m not quite sure where you are, I know you won’t respond to me, I doubt there’s pens in the ocean. But I hope you’re safe, I’m sorry. I missed you, that’s weird to say I’m sure, the only time we met you probably didn’t know I was there, maybe you did. But you were the best part of waking up every morning, I worried about you staying up so late you know. I just, hope one day we can actually meet, restart.”

     The sea witch thought about those words for months, rising to the surface for the first time to meet her first mate and her, Gil, was exciting. But all she wanted was a pen. Hearing about the sleeping spell from the other VKs was the worst feeling she just wanted to know that her soulmate was okay. Lucky enough for her, Evie had one that she let her borrow. “(Y/n), I don’t know if you’re asleep or stone or if somehow you escaped the spell. But I’m in Auradon, and I hope that you’re okay, somehow.” 

    Waking up to see that Uma had written back was the most exciting thing the royal could imagine. She was here, she was in Auradon, and she worried about them. Hearing from Carlos that the sea witch had left was the earth shattering to the royal, but they understood, if they could stay home forever or never go back, they’d stay home too. The letters started back, an apology from the both, a tearful recognition that the two were destined to be in love yet destined to never meet. Then, Mal announced that she couldn’t be queen without the barrier coming down. (Y/n)’s stomach was doing summersaults, this was their chance, their real chance. Their lip was trapped between their lip as they stared over the bridge, watching their soulmate dance across it. As they bowed with the other Auradon  kids for the citizens of the Isle, their excitement was growing. She was here, really here. She made it to Auradon, just a few yards away again, and (Y/n) was going to see her this time. “Uma!” It was her first time hearing the voice of her soulmate as they ran towards her, body crashing into her own. “(Y/n),” it was breathy as she relaxed into their touch. They did it, they were never truly destined to be apart. 

#Uma #descendants #descendants 3 #uma daughter of ursula #uma x reader #gender neutral y/n

[plush-rabbit]

A Ruined Otaku

Warnings: Dom, Degradation (light), Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: i wanna make Levi cry (also just one oro for him!! I forgot to add the second:(()

-

Leviathan is many things. The third born. The Avatar of Envy. An angel turned demon. A Grand Admiral. He can summon an old creature, scales embedded with everything lost to the sea and kill with a simple squeeze of his hand. He’s something old and powerful, a minimalist body to hold the power and horror that resides. Leviathan, is an old demon, scales and teeth, thirsty for blood and poisonous to the mind, and yet, with all the power and title that he carries, he still lays beneath you, legs spread and cock oozing with semen, a gag shoved in his mouth- a simple makeshift of your underwear that was stained with arousal- soaked with his own drool as tears form in his eyes like dew that forms under the bright moon of Devildom. His hands are clawed into the cheap fabric of the small bed- a futon, if he was to be more specific- the fabric ripped and stuffing fluffing out of the sheet. 

“You’re drooling,” you muse, the heels of your shoes clicking against the tile of his room. “You know how expensive those were, right?” He can only nod his head, feeling a thick sliver of drool slip down his chin. “Here I am, wasting money on you, getting all dolled up, and there you go. Drooling over my underwear like some fucking creep.” Your voice raises into a lilt at the end, a cruel smile stretching against your lips, your eyes narrowing as the fat of your cheeks push upwards. “Who’s going to get me a new outfit? Hm? Are you?” He remains silent, sniffling through the fabric, cock jerking, the spiraled head dotted with pearly white semen that drips down onto the bottom of his stomach, the scales that adorn him are coated in a slimy substance, glistening and heavy, lubricated due to his nature, aching and ready to be put to use. He can only nod his head at your question, he doesn’t do more than that, nodding until his purple hair is ruffled. You’re not stronger than him- you could never beat him in an actual fight, but he is at your mercy right now and with a slight work of spell, he can feel the pressure of your nails against his tight. “Answer me, Levi.” 

His words are muffled against the cloth. He’s heard you say his name plenty of times, but each and every time, it still stirs something within him. “Yes,” he says, the word muffled, a harsh “sh” sound at the end of the word and he wants you to pierce his skin; he’d give you his strength just to feel blood prick at his skin, to feel you have all the power and to put him at your mercy. He thinks with a bit more practice, you should be able to leave him bruises in the shape of your hands. He salivates at the thought of feeling an actual sensation coming from you and not from some type of toy.

His stomach aches, his erection almost painful, skin tingling and running over his body with pricks. He can’t seem to find his breath. He tries to peer at you, so desperate to call you by name and ask you to touch him just once more, to give pity to him. 

“And how are you going to do that? You waste every single grimm that you earn on figures and anything else you can get your hands on.” His legs are spread and he can feel your knee against the inside of his thigh. “So reckless and horrible. You’re a pathetic excuse for a demon.” His chest aches and his hands tighten around the sheets. “Worrying about standing in line, having me do all your dirty work just so you can jerk off to plastic.” He moans against the fabric when your hand wraps around his cock; you don’t cover him entirely but it’s more than enough for him to at least derive some pleasure. “Is that what gets you off? Fisting your cock over plastic, thinking about how the new waifu-” he can hear the distaste in your voice and he’s pleading in his mind for you to just hurry and jerk him off- “would bend over and ask you to fuck them.” Your laugh is harsh, piercing into his fragile self-esteem and he’s whining, a high-pitched and pathetic noise that makes you glower at him. “What do you think of when you jerk off over plastic?”

He refuses to answer. He’s a yucky otaku, something gross and perverted, a title given to him only because he had fallen along with his brothers. He is powerful but weak, cracking under pressure and having to beg for things. It’s already mortifying enough that you know of his perverted secret, humiliating, knowing that you’re using it against him in such a private and intimate moment. But he couldn’t help himself- he couldn’t ask you to help him, he was too nervous, shaking at the thought of telling you that he was aroused and none of the videos or hentai were doing it for him. It was his fault- he’s the one that bought the scantily clad figure, an ahegao expression printed onto it that was soon painted white.

The bed creaks, the metal groaning under the weight of both of you, the front of the bed knocking against the wall and his face burns. He knows that whatever happens will be echoed through the house, that he’ll be forced to endure even more teasing and having to go back to you and beg for you to take care of him. 

Your hands dance on his abdomen, fluttering hands that graze his sides and rest where a rib cage would be, curving over his breasts and the heel of your palm nudges against his pebbled nipples. He is still, breath hitched in his throat and eyes fluttering to a close. It’s the softest touch he’ll get from you right now, something so comforting that it sends the muscle in his chest beating harsh against the skin of his body. He wants something harsher, he wants to feel you grip on him and never let go, to be gasping for breath simply because you gave him what he wanted. He’d lie on the ground and bleed for you, choke against his own blood, grovel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on if it meant that you would touch him in the way he wanted to be touched.

Your hands are curved against his chest, the pads of your fingertips pressed into him and he stares at amazement above you. His cock, a spiraled tip with bumps and ridges, the shaft is a soft curve is a heavy, dark color. It’s hard, the scales that etch onto him below the head are rigid and bumped, the arousal and state of mind that he is in makes him lose focus. He’s spilling, drenched in his own arousal. You sit bare on his thighs. He can smell your sex, aroused and leaking. He’d give up an entire season of anime if it meant he could see how pretty your cunt looked. 

“You’re a filthy, fucking whore, Levi.” With every inch that you sink onto his cock, he screams against your underwear. “A quick and easy fuck.” You’re so warm and soft, the puffiness of your walls enveloping in a sweet hug. “You should be lucky that even a human would want to touch you.” You spit the words out and his sobs against the cloth, jaw twitching and tear tearing through the fabric. Your hands grip at his face, turning him towards you and he looks at you with heavy eyes filled with tears. “Tell me your perverted fantasies, Leviathan.” The fabric spills from his mouth, dragging across his skin, leaving his lower half of the face in a thin layer of his own drool. You sneer at him and yank your hand away from his face, shaking it beside you as if to flick off any of his own secretion. 

Where could he even start? He’s breathless, shaking in his position, trembling bones as he raises his arms and covers his face with clammy hands. He can feel your gaze on him, his face burning and chest heaving with every intake of air, pressing his heels into his face. His body reacts, knees bending, trying to curl up in a ball, meeting your ack instead and he can hear the soft puff of air. 

He peeks between slender fingers, staring up at you and he can only lay and watch as you tilt your head. You raise your brows at him expectantly, and there’s a falling pit in his stomach. “I-” his voice cracks and his neck burns- “I think of you,” he says in a rushed voice. “I think of how good your mouth feels, how you always leave me pleased and completely drained.” He yelps when fingers twist at his nipple, the skin blooming in red and back arching, hands leaving his face to grasp at the bed. “I- I think of you- It’s always you. How you let such a poor excuse of a demon touch you.” His voice is steadily growing louder, choking through the words and staring up at you. “I’m gross and I’m touching you, a filthy, yucky otaku-” with each word his voice grows louder until it’s booming against the walls, the glass of his aquarium shaking, making the poor fish swim around anxiously- “who thinks of fucking you when I jerk off.” 

He’s pitiful. Messy, purple hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat, orange eyes tinted with blue shine under tears that have yet to be shed, few tear streaks wet at his face, falling down to the pillow under him, the dark gray pillowcase darkens under him. Your hand cradles his face and for the first time in the night, his chest feels light, he can breathe, staring at your parted lips and wanting to kiss them. He purses his lips and jerks his head towards your, eyes closing slowly- just one kiss, something so simple and innocent that he wants. 

He’s pulled back with a soft click of your tongue, your head shaking in a denial that you give him. “Tsk, tsk.” Your hand is still gentle and it’s intoxicating to have you touch him. His cock warms your insides, pulsing and aching, his entire control kept in check in order to not disobey and let himself ravage your weaker body. There’s a horrible thought in his head as you lay limp in his arms as he pushes inside your body, kissing at your wet lips and meeting the dazed look in your eyes. “Only good boys get to kiss me.” Your lips are so close to his and your free hand rests on the curve of his breast. “Are you a good boy, Levi?” The tip of your nose grazes at his and he’s never been so weak in his entire life, never so full of want and hunger to force himself to move so he can kiss your lips. 

“No,” he breathes out. His tongue peeks out, the soft, pink tip lapping at his lips. “I’m horrible.” He thinks he’d kill for just a simple kiss. “Make me a good boy, please.” He calls your name, he dares to utter the breath of his love in such a hopeless voice, wanting to reach above with curling hands. 

He gasps when your lips are pressed against his- slipping past, slick with something sour, tongue slipping past and entering his mouth. If it were any other day, he’d slip his tongue in your mouth and have you choke, but for now, he remains unable to, completely at your will. He’s certain now- he really would kill for just a simple kiss from you.

It’s shameful and he won’t live it down for the next odd years, but the kiss is enough to send him over the edge. He keeps his lips pressed to yours, bruising almost as he pushes himself against you, cock twitching and a soft rut of his hips as he spills his seed inside of you. It’s a thick, heavy flow, filling you and his hands are moving, flat against your back and curing against the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. His mouth opens and he whines, salivating as you let out a stifled moan. Filthy and wet, his slick sliding out of you, coating his cock with semen, the scales that line around him are lost under him. 

He’s delirious, humping you, his face dazed and eyes rolled to the back of his head, a heavy blush across his face as you let him do all the work. While endurance was never his strongest suit, he absolutely loses himself over you, his thrusts becoming sloppier- a lewd, wet shucking sound fills the room, your breasts bouncing and it’s humiliating at how riled he becomes. He pants like a bitch in heat, and he can hear just how pathetic he sounds, croaking and gasping for breath. 

You’re slick, your walls molded around him, the soft walls that envelop him in a warm hug, make him twitch. He’s whining, chest vibrating against yours, his stiff nipples pressed against your soft chest. Every pull of your body makes him murmur a slurred version of your name, mind hazy as he continues to rut inside of you, feeling the burning heat in his lower stomach return, aching and tightening, having him kick out his legs as his body starts to grow rigid and antsy. 

“Such a whore, Levi.” Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, lowering yourself on his cock, the base of it stretching your wet sex. The curve of his cock pushes against a spot, eliciting a strangled moan from you. You clench tighter around him, your plush walls squishing around him- silky and plush, against his cock. “Acting like you’ve never fucked a cunt before.” Your words low, lowering your head to kiss at his neck, wet spots that glisten against his skin.

“Not-” he’s interrupted by a moan, hands clawing against you, pressing you close to his flush body- “not as good as yours.” His hands release you and you immediately rise. Your smile is breathless and coy, chest rising and dropping as you stare down at him. Your eyes soften for just a moment, and his own hands come to pinch at his nipples, the soft tissue of his breast squished under his hands. He must look pitiful- a look akin to that of a hurt animal if your gaze on him is anything to go by. He knows how he must look. A flushed face tinted in a rosy red, eyes that shine with tears, lashes that catch the fallen drops and a tear-stained face, puffy, reddened lips that part with each gasp of air. He must look wretched. 

Your hand curves around his cheek and he leans into your touch. “How sweet-” your smile returns into a more stretched version, teeth hidden behind your lips- “my dear Leviathan.” He wonders if you can hear the way that his heart beats. His mouth parts and there’s a sick perversion where he wants you to spit on him, to treat him like the disgusting pervert that he truly is. “Are you close?” Your nails drag along his skin and he can only nod, eyes flickering to where your skin slaps against his. “You know that you’re only allowed to because of me, correct?” Your eyes glint with something that he cannot place. “No matter what anyone says,” your voice lowers and it’s erotic to him, something like a drug that he’s never taken and makes him all more weak to you, “you’re nothing more than a living toy.” He jerks inside of you and his stomach begins to ache. “A pretty, little demon that I get to fuck.” He so desperately wants to touch you. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, yucky otaku.” His nails pierce into the skin of his breasts, blood dotting along him. Your eyes dart to his chest before returning to his eyes, lowering until the tip of your nose brushes against his. “Don’t ruin yourself Levi, save that for me.” Your lips meet his and he does as he is told. 

His hands leave his chest and he pushes you onto him, spilling his seed into your cunt, feeling the way that your walls tighten and pulse, the heavy beating of your body and the heat that floods out. He’s moaning into you, muffled and drowning out your gasped version of his name that escapes your lips. 

His cock is wet as he lays beside you. He’s curled against your side, a softening cock that sticks against your thigh, body curved so his head rests on your chest. He lays above you, eyes wet as you pet his hair. “You had such a lovely look on you, Levi.” He can feel your lips kiss at the crown of his head. “It made you look so handsome.” He lets out a weak cry, nodding as tears slip past his closed eyes, nuzzling closer to your chest as your hand lowers to soothe against his back. You shush him gently as he begins to rut against your thigh.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan headcanons #leviathan x reader

[bibbawrites]

The Little Princess - Single!Dad Charlie

Request: None 

Word Count: 1531 words

Warnings: none that i can tell?

Summary: Part 1 of the single dad!Charlie series, just some cute fluff and introduction to little Margaux Ivy Gillespie 

A/N: okay so i need some input, i’m not sure if i should just make this the adventures of single dad!charlie and him raising his daughter on his own, or introduce the reader as a love interest at some point the original plan was the reader meeting charlie’s daughter, but i had inspiration to write this instead and i kinda really enjoy single charlie trying to be a good dad while juggling working full time and not worrying about a love interest?  idk, if you guys hate this please let me know 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1

“Come on Owen, we’re going to be late.” Charlie called, leaning down to pick up his three year old daughter from her spot on the couch. 

“Where we going Daddy?” She asked, snuggling into her father’s arms, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. 

The little girl in his arms was the light of his life. She was born when Charlie was just 18, and her biological mother had been 25. Although her conception had been an accident, the little girl was anything but that. From the moment he first held her in his arms, Charlie promised to never let anything happen to her. Her mother had left her with him when she was just three days old, along with a note saying that she really couldn’t handle being a mother yet, and that she was really sorry. He should have realised something was up when she had insisted he name the baby himself, whatever he wanted, and she didn’t have any complaints when he decided on Margaux Ivy, despite the fact that she had hated both of those names every other time he had brought them up. But he was too in love with the feeling of being a new father to even question it. 

“Going to set Princess.” He told her, as Owen entered the room, his hair a mess and one shoe in his hand. Margaux giggled at the sight, pulling a face at Owen. 

“You look funny.” She told him and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. 

“She’s not wrong.” He agreed as Owen struggled to put his second shoe on. After a moment he succeeded, turning to the father daughter duo with a playful eye roll. 

“The honesty of three year olds.” He said, and Charlie laughed again. 

“Gotta love ‘em.” He joked, and Owen nodded in agreement, smiling at Margaux.

“Couldn’t live without you, could we Maggie?” He asked and Margaux poked her tongue out at him, which he quickly mimicked. 

His nickname for the toddler had come from an inside joke. When Owen had first met Margaux, he had only heard Charlie refer to her as Mags, so naturally the blond boy had assumed her name was Maggie, and even after he found out her real name the nickname stuck. 

Charlie smiled at the interaction, before opening the door and letting Owen pass them, before locking their door and together the trio headed down to Charlie’s car. 

-

Not long after, they arrived on set, jumping out of the car quickly to avoid being late. Margaux ran ahead of them as they quickly rushed towards the rehearsal area where they were supposed to be meeting Kenny and the other cast members. 

They made it to the tent with less than a minute to spare and Kenny shook his head, although they could easily tell he wasn’t really upset. 

“Take a seat boys.” Kenny told them, and Charlie quickly scooped Margaux up before sitting down with her in his lap. He pulled a colouring book and some crayons out of the bag he carried for Margaux’s things, and placed the book on the table before giving the crayons to the toddler. 

"Thank you Daddy.” She said, and Charlie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her head before looking up to listen to Kenny run through how the next week was going to be working. 

“Daddy.” Margaux whispered, and Charlie glanced down at her.

“What’s up Mags?” He replied quietly, not wanting to interrupt the meeting. He knew if he missed anything important Owen would let him know. 

“Look.” Margaux pointed to the colouring book. “I coloured it good.” 

Charlie smiled, kissing the top of her head again. 

“Very good.” He praised. “Don’t forget the duckies too.” 

Margaux gasped, picking up the yellow crayon quickly. Charlie couldn’t help but smile as he watched her colour in, in awe of how perfect this little human he had created was. She truly was his greatest achievement. 

He zoned out, watching on as the three year old coloured, only zoning back in when Owen grabbed his shoulder to let him know they were leaving. 

“Come on Mags, Daddy has to go get dressed.” Charlie told her, picking up the crayons. “You can go colour with Aunty Tori.” 

The girl in question grinned from across the table, happy to look after the small girl while Charlie filmed. 

“I would love to colour with you Margaux.” Tori agreed, standing up. Charlie placed Margaux onto the ground, the toddler rushing over to Tori as her father packed up her stuff. Charlie handed the bag to the assistant choreographer, and smiled as he watched the younger girl lead his little girl out of the tent, before standing up and heading off, ready to start his own day. 

-

“Did I miss anything important in that meeting this morning?” Charlie questioned later that evening, as he and Owen walked to get dinner after a full day of filming, Margaux between them holding both of their hands. 

“Swing!” Margaux squealed, and the two of them swung the three year old up between them, both smiling at her excited giggles. 

“Nothing we didn’t already know.” Owen informed him, as they reached the burger shop and joined the line to order. 

“Oh good. I was kinda distracted by Mags.” Charlie admitted, and Owen grinned. 

“Aren’t we all? You’ve got us under a spell Miss Maggie.” He cooed. 

“No, I Princess, 'member?” Margaux mumbled, pressing her face into Owen’s leg. 

“My bad, Princess Maggie.” Owen corrected, running his hand through her messy curls. A woman exiting the store smiled at the sweet scene. 

“Oh, what a lovely little family. Your daughter is very cute.” She complimented. 

“Thank you.” Charlie said quickly, trying to hide his laugh as Owen went bright red. The woman nodded in response before walking out the door. 

“Why did you say thank you?” Owen questioned when the woman was far enough away. 

“Cause. We are a lovely little family.” Charlie shrugged. Margaux pulled on the bottom of Owen’s hoodie and he lent down to pick her up. 

“Aren’t we Mags? Owen’s our family, isn’t he?” Charlie asked, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the three year old’s hair, and Margaux nodded. 

“Yeah.” She said, resting her head on Owen’s shoulder. Owen smiled softly. 

“Well I can’t say no to the Princess can I?” He mumbled. 

“No!” Margaux squealed. Charlie laughed, stepping forward to order for the three of them, content knowing that his pride and joy was safe with his best friend. 

-

By the time they got back to their apartment, ate their meals, and Charlie bathed Margaux, it was time for the three year old to go to sleep. In fact, it was time for all three of them to go to sleep. 

Charlie tucked Margaux into her bed, the little girl snuggling into the toy penguin he had given her as a baby. She couldn’t sleep without it. 

“Night night Daddy.” Margaux mumbled sleepily, pulling on Charlie’s shirt so that he would lean down, and kissing his cheek when he did. 

“Goodnight baby girl, I love you.” He whispered softly, kissing her forehead. 

“Love you too Daddy.” She replied with a yawn. 

She reached out towards Owen, who had been standing in the doorway watching, making grabby hands at the 20 year old. He came over, crouching down next to her bed, and Margaux smiled sleepily. 

“Night night Papa Owen, love you.” She said. Owen’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Charlie for reassurance. Charlie smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling Owen relax under the gentle touch. 

Owen lent over, placing a soft kiss on Margaux’s head. 

“Nighty night Maggie. Love you too.” He whispered. He stood back up and quietly the two men left the room, flicking the light off and the small bunny night light on as they left. 

“Papa?” Owen questioned once they were in the hallway, Margaux’s door pulled to behind them. Charlie shrugged. 

“If you want it. If you don’t I can tell her to stop.” He replied. Owen shook his head quickly. 

“No, no, I love it. I’ve always wanted to be a dad so...” He trailed off. “Not that I’m her dad cause obviously that’s you, and I’d never try to replace you or be you cause that would be wrong and-” 

“Owen.” Charlie cut him off. “It’s fine. I think it’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah?” Owen asked softly. 

“Yes.” Charlie replied. 

“Okay.” Owen grinned. Charlie returned the smile. 

“We should probably get to bed, we have to be on set early.” He said after a moment of silence. Owen nodded.

“Yeah you’re right.” He agreed. A wide grin appeared on Charlie’s face. 

“Goodnight Papa Owen.” He teased. Owen groaned. 

“It’s just creepy coming from you, Daddy.” He retaliated, and Charlie cringed. 

“Yeah no, let’s not do that.” He said and Owen laughed. 

“Agreed.” He replied. Charlie smiled, pulling Owen into a quick hug. 

“Night Owen.” He mumbled. Owen took a step back. 

“Night Char.” He replied, before heading down the hallway to his own room. 

And with one last glance into Margaux’s room to check on the sleeping toddler, Charlie did the same. 

#dad!charlie #single dad!charlie #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fic #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner

[romeulusroy]

Presume (Shelby!Reader × Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas, Arthur, John, Finn mention

Word Count: 1,202

Requested: Tommy decides to throw a masquerade party (maybe to gain allies?) And little shelby, not knowing who the other person is, due to masks and such, begins to dance with the son of one of the other feuding families ~ anon

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @trentstonesobrienhoechlin @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes @lucillethings

A/N: I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!!!!! I really hope I could do your request justice my love, and that it's exactly what you wanted!!! I hope the wait wasn't too long either!!! I did make this entirely gender neutral btw! Is it obvious ya gurl had never danced with anyone besides friends? :P Ngl, I am proud of the storytelling!!! I always feel awful with fic requests because I worry I can never write them well, but I'm so happy with this!!!! Hope you like it my loves!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @nofckingfighting :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

((FIC REQUESTS ARE CLOSED))

The watchful eyes burning into your back, through your skin, wishing they could set your insides on fire. Anything to stop you without forcibly dragging you from the room. Had to look good, play nice, be on their best best behaviors. Be professional. Instead, they stare, locked in by an image, a facade. No better time to push til they break. The glass already out of your hand, cheeks burning hot, tongue and teeth growing slow, sleepy. A drink, or three. Enough to give you courage. Teetering empty on the silver platter, calling your name as you slip through crowd, your shoes tapping the dance floor, picking at random. So many choices. One by one, lined up by their own kind. Blood had a funny way of tricking people, believing there is safety in packs, in numbers. There isn't. There never was, but they don't know. They will. Holding out your hand, waiting, and they take it, as if it were always meant to be there.

Do what you do because you can, because you're the only one who can get under their skin without the repercussions of a bullet between the eyes. They could try. Lock your bedroom door shut. Gloat and mock, the music, the crowds, all of the noise burning through the air all the way up. Too young. Just a child. Not ready yet. As if this business hadn't been your life since you were a kid, as if you weren't playing with guns and God the way other kids played with dolls, with soldiers. Toying with life and death before you could fucking spell it. It wasn't just a job, but the very thing that ran through your veins. That impulse, that thought, the rationalizing. It was all you, and you were going to show them, despite what they thought, you were as much a Shelby as the rest.

Their hands on your waist, close, closer than you inow any of them like. Your arms around their neck, the gentle sway you have so soothing amongst the chaos. Behind the mask there is someone unrecognizable, a stranger, the perfect distraction. A mask stolen, plucked from your brothers room, your door left open, broken, the lock heavy on the floor. A child may scream, cry, throw themselves on to their bed, thrash until they're red in the face and the festivities have all ended. You were not a goddamn child. Quickly, you dressed. Something itchy, uncomfortable, unwearable on any other occasion, but perfect for tonight. Grown up. Showing off every piece of you that made you look older, sharper, more jaded. Knife-like, a single touch a very dangerous thing. Down the stairs, scanning the first floor. Too many to count. Potential allies, and enemies, alike, all wanting a piece of power. Three familiar bodies, covered faces, but too easy, falling into their own imperfect habits.

John, Thomas, Arthur.

They hold you, their touch light, but intentional. Their hands nor their gaze ever travel, deserving a slap, a huff, a razor. No, they are shy. That much you can tell. Shy, even bashful, taking you in with every breath.A smile, that of innocence, of embarassment, and then, four simple words, whispered in your ear, barely above the violin, a voice that is far sweeter than you expected, honeyed with youth, hiccuped with wit. "I think they're staring." You don't dare look. You already know. Recognizing you soon enough. Good. You only shake your head, a head full of bubbles, and continue dancing. A stunt. That's what they named her, as if she were thoughtless. You'd never thought more about anything in your life. Not just the outfit, the picked lock, the alcohol, but your partner, the one you shared song after song with. You had your pick. Could have moved on, chose another, and another after that, but they stuck out, even behind the mask. They weren't afraid of you, or your brothers.

A party of class, wealth, legitimacy, all of these new things recently acquired by your family. One to gain attention, political allies, in search of anyone who wouldn't stab you in the back and leave you for dead. Far more people than you ever expected. All day, you watched Thomas' grand manor turn into that of a castle, one with a ballroom, rid of furniture, pictures, any evidence this place was a home, your home, at all. Other doors, places unused, unseen, locked. Careful, but not too careful. Your brother, always wary. One by one your aunt, sister, brothers, and their families come dressed for the occasion. Even Finn had been allowed to join in all the fun. You were geting ready, your hair undone, your clothes strewn across the floor. Tommy promised you there was no need to worry about any of that. The door slammed behind you before you had the chance to catch it. Your fists pounced on the door, pulling at the handle, your fury building. Of age, and still just a baby.

Alone now, you had time to think, to plan, to invade.

You weren't sure what was more careless: the fact they thought a locked door could keep you in, or that an event for allies could keep enemies out. The whole night you spent with them, your sweet stranger, one nameless, laughing at your jokes, your quips, unfazed by the cruelty, the hostility your words. Your mother tongue. They spoke the same language, one of cynicism, jabs at other guests as they kissed your brothers feet. In the end, they left you with nothing more than a kiss to your hand and solemn goodbye, never taking off their mask. The music dulled, the crowd thinning. Your punishment imminent, impending, cold hands tugging at your wrist, angry words quiet, hushed, threatening you with a lifetime of imprisonment.

A wonderful night come to an end.

It wouldn't be for a week or two until you saw that face again. Left out of another family meeting, a locked door becoming an old friend, left to wander the shop. You'd interrogate Finn later. For now, it was only you and the empty rooms. One by one you explored. A swesting glass of brown, the ice melting, on Arthurs desk, that of an early celebration. A drawing on Johns desk, illustrated from one of his young ones, colors scribbled and squiggled over his smiling face. And on Thomas' sat a pile of photos. All of them, thick black X's, drawn by his own hand, over their faces. A hit list. That of enemies, people out to kill. Get rid of them before they get rid of him. On the bottom, the dead rest. Towards the top were those he was hunting, the job not yet finished. One struck you, a slap across the face, one that left your nerves thin. At first, just another stranger. And then, a closer look. That smile, those eyes, you could almost hear their laugh, those words. Not a quip at the expense of your brothers, but their own watching your every move. Calculated, calloused, hungry. You hadn't even noticed. These days, enemies and allies walked a very thin line.

"I think they're staring."

You had to tell Tommy.

#requested #writing #thomas shelby #thomas shelby drabble #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #peaky blinders oneshot #thomas shelby fic #peaky blinders fic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas x reader #x reader #drabble #oneshot #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

[kitkatfat15]

IronStrange Cinderella Au Fanfic

Hey guys I did a thing. I saw a post about an IronStrange Cinderella Au and I saw some art so I decided to write it. I hope you guys like it, I worked really hard on it. It also has Peter and Harley in it.

“Stephen!” He heard his father yell. “Have you swept the kitchen yet?” Stephen nodded, then realized that his father couldn’t see him. “Yes father! I did.”

His father scoffed. “It looks filthy! Come do it again! No doubt it’s because of your broken hands…” His father had said the last part quietly, but Stephen still heard it loud and clear, still felt it pierce his heart.

Stephen used to be one of the most upcoming healers in all the land. But… That was before his accident. Stephen had been riding a horse through the woods to the village over when something in the woods spooked his horse.

 His horse had bucked him off, throwing him into a bramble bush. In his panic, he had struggled to escape the bush, tearing his hands and damaging them. By the time someone found him, his hands would never again be the same.

They were covered in scars and constantly shook, making him incapable of doing healing or anything else worth while, like farming. He was stuck at home being a disappointment to his family while his brother worked the fields and his sister worked at the local tailor’s shop. 

Stephen grabbed the broom and went to the kitchen. It looked spotless. Well, except for one place where there was a pile of dirt next to a bucket. His father walked back in the room. “I forgot something.” He tells Stephen, before kicking the pile of dirt, sending it flying. 

Stephen winced but didn’t say anything, knowing it wouldn’t do anything. He sighed and started sweeping, his father leaving the room. 

It was a few hours later when his brother and sister got home. “Look at this Victor! An invitation to the ball. From the prince!” Victor grabbed the invite from his sister. “It has both our names on it.” Stephen looked up and Victor scoffed. “Not yours. Mine and Donna’s. It’s this weekend.” Donna danced away from the door and towards the dining room. “I can’t wait! Maybe the prince will choose me as his bride!”

Victor scoffed again. “Yeah right. I heard he doesn’t even like girls! He’s going to choose me! Not you!” Donna scowled at her brother and stomped off to her room. Victor turned to his brother. “Even if you were invited, I don’t think anyone would even want you to go.” With that he left, going to his room to change. 

***

The weekend had come fast. For the ball, Donna had bought herself an orange dress with a low back. It was modest, but not eye catching. Victor had bought a white suit with a red trim. It made him look like a prince, which Stephen thought the actual prince wouldn’t appreciate. 

Stephen watched his siblings and his father leave with an air of sadness. At least his father had given him the weekend off. Stephen thought with a sigh. Stephen was walking back towards his house when he spotted something shimmering in the dirt. 

When he got closer, he realized that it was a wand of some sort. He bent down in the dirt and picked it up. There was a shimmering in the air in front of him, and Stephen heard two voices arguing. 

“I can’t believe you lost your wand Parker!” A young male voice said. Another boy huffed. “It’s not my fault! I think it’s over here.” The shimmering grew strong and two boys appeared. Both boys were wearing baby blue robes and had wings coming out of their backs. They both had dark brown hair and seemed to be teenagers. 

“Who are you guys?” Stephen asked. The two boys turned towards him. “My wand!” The boy Stephen thought was called Parker cried. Stephen held it out for him and the other boy grabbed it.

Parker pouted at him. The other boy turned to him. “I’m Harley. This is Peter. Have you seen a man called Stephen Strange?” He asked. Stephen nodded at them. “I’m Stephen Strange.” Peter broke out into a smile. “Perfect! We’re your fairy godfathers!” Stephen raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” Peter cried. “We’re here to get you ready for the ball.” Peter told him. Stephen sighed. “I wasn’t invited to the prince’s ball. Even if I was, my brother was right, no one would want me to go.” Harley huffed. “Do you know how many people we’ve gotten into a ball uninvited?” He asked.

“But Harley, we’ve never done that-” Harley turns and scowls at Peter. Peter just blinks. Harley turned back to Stephen, a dangerous look in his eyes. “I’m not failing our first assignment because you want to stay here and feel sorry for yourself! Now are you going to corporate or am I going to have to force you?” Peter looks scandalized. “Harley!” Stephen shrugged. 

“I guess I can go. At least I can help you boys.” Both teens smiled at him. “Let’s get you ready for the ball!” Peter says, grabbing his wand from Harley and dragging Stephen into the house. 

Harley grabbed a few things from different rooms as they headed towards the sitting area, which had a large mirror in it. “You can work on his clothes and I’ll work on getting him a ride.” Harley tells Peter before going back outside. 

“Let’s try to find you an outfit! Bippity boppity boop!” He says waving his wand at Stephen. Stephen felt his clothes transform into a pastel pink suit with a baby blue trim. Peter shook his head. “This doesn’t match your eyes at all!” He tells Stephen. “Bippity boppity boop!” He says again. 

This time Stephen feels his clothes shift again and now he is wearing tacky multi color pants and a flower printed shirt. Both of them grimace. “Nope.” Peter says and waves his wand. “Bippity boppity boop!” Stephen feels his clothes turn into a beautiful flowing blue gown. Peter sighed again. 

“I’m sorry. I always seem to get dresses.” He tells the man. Stephen smiles. “Peter, I think this is perfect!” He tells him. Peter perks up. “Really? No one seems to like my dresses.” Someone made an offended noise from behind them. Harley was leaning against the door frame. “I always like your dresses!” He tells Peter. “Well you don’t count.” Peter tells Harley. “Why not?”

“Because I said so!” Peter says loudly. Stephen decides to interject, not wanting an argument to start. “I still need shoes.” He tells them. “Shoes? I can do shoes.” Harley says. “What kind of shoes do you want? Boots, sandals-” 

“I want stilettos.” He interjects. Harley looks at him before shrugging. He takes two small stones out of his pocket and puts them on the ground. “Abra kadabra!” He waves his wand. Nothing happens. “Wrong words.” Peter tells him. Harley, being mature, sticks his tongue out. 

“Bippity boppity boop!” He waves his wand and the smooth stones turn into baby blue stilettos. Stephen grabs them and puts them on his feet. “Do you know how to walk in those?” Peter asks. Stephen scoffs. “Of course I do. Let’s go see my ride, shall we?” Both boys nod and they all head outside.

In front of the small house there was an elegant carriage with a horse and a horseman. However, looking closer, Stephen could tell that the horse’s fur was more like scales and the horseman’s eyes seemed too large for his head. Stephen turned to Harley. “Is that horse a snake? And is that horseman a frog?” He asked. Harley shrugged. “I worked with what I had.” He tells him. 

Peter snaps his fingers. “Before we forget! You have to be back by 12 o’clock. That is when the spells will unravel. Your shoes will turn into stones, your dress will turn back into your normal clothes, and your carriage will turn back into a potato.”

“You made my carriage out of a potato?” He asked incredulously. In response Harley shoulders him into the carriage and nods towards the horseman. “Have a nice night!” Peter calls as Stephen begins his trip to the palace. 

***

The journey to the palace was quite long, but very worth it. When Stephen layed eyes on Stark palace, he could not hold back a gasp. 

The palace had tall towers and large walls. Banners with the Stark emblem were flying high on flag posts. Stephen could hear the sound of horses through the left side of the wall. 

As they drew closer to the palace walls, the carriage slowed to a stop. There was a knock on the door and Stephen stuck his head out of the window. 

“Business?” A large guard asked him. “I’m here for the prince’s ball.” Stephen says. The guard nodded and waved to someone to open the gates. “You’re good to go sir.” The guard tells him, and the carriage starts to move again. 

As they come to the entrance of the palace, the carriage slows to a stop. Stephen opens the door and carefully steps out. He only stumbles for a second before finding his balance on the high heeled shoes. He picks up the bottom of his dress so it’s not dragging, and walks up to the large doors in the front. 

“Are you here for the Prince’s ball?” The one of the guards by the door asked him. Stephen nodded. The guard nodded and opened the door. “If you’re nobility go to the left and someone will announce you, if you're not, just go straight in.” Stephen nods and goes straight towards the open door and into the ballroom.

Stephen looked around in breathless awe. The ball room is huge- big enough to fit multiple medium sized houses and still have room for more. 

He scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. He spotted one or two people from his own village, but most were faces he didn’t recognize, probably from other villages in the kingdom. A waiter walked up to him, holding a tray of drinks. “Would you like one, sir?” He asked. Stephen was about to say yes, until he looked down and caught sight of his shaky hands. He shook his head. “No thank you.” He says and the waiter turns and walks away.

Stephen had been wandering the dance floor when he caught sight of his siblings staring enviously at a group of people. He decided to move closer and see what they were talking about. 

“I should be the one over there with him.” He hears Donna say. Victor scoffs. “As if. No, I should be the one over there.” Upon closer look Stephen could see a man in a well fitting red suit with gold trim in the middle of the people. Everyone in the group seemed to be focusing on him. It was the prince, Stephen realized. 

Now that Stephen had seen the prince, he couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. Even from a distance, Stephen could see that he was extremely handsome. He had honey brown eyes and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. His red suit was perfectly tailored, with gold stitching around the waist and on the ends of the sleeves and coat.  

Stephen was wrong when he thought Victor looked like a prince. Victor looked like a beggar next to the star that was Anthony Edward Stark. Their eyes met across the room. Anthony smiled at him from across the room and Stephen felt his heart skip a beat. He blushed and turned away, heading to one of the waiters. 

The waiter handed him a glass and Stephen started sipping at it, willing his face to cool down and his hands to not shake. When the glass was empty, Stephen handed it to a waiter and was about to start walking again, when someone came up behind him.

“Hey.” Stephen jumped and spun around, both things a hard feat in high heels. It was Prince Anthony. “H-Hello Prince Anthony.” The prince waved his hand in the air. “Call me Tony, Anthony sounds too stuck up.” Stephen smiled. “I thought Anthony was a noble name.” Prince Tony snorted. “Oh I like you. You’ve got spunk. So, what’s the name, my fine fellow?

Stephen blushed. “My name is Stephen.” The prince smirked. “Well then Stephen,” The prince practically purred his name, making Stephen want to swoon, “Would you care to join me for a dance?” Stephen shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “I-I don’t really know how to dance.” He tells him. “Why not? Surely everyone is lining up to dance with such a handsome man as you.” Stephen shrugged. “People don’t like my hands.” The prince looked quizzical and Stephen held up his trembling hands. 

The prince gently takes one of Stephen’s damaged hands in his calloused work hardened ones. “I think they’re beautiful.” He tells the man, before lifting the hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it. Stephen fights the urge to swoon. 

The prince looks at him playfully. “And besides, I can teach you how to dance.” He tells the man. Stephen agrees and Prince Tony leads him to the dance floor.   

The prince gently guides him through the moves and steps. They were now almost effortlessly going through the steps when the prince brings up a topic Stephen was perfectly happy to ignore. “You know, I’m sort of looking for someone to get married to.” Stephen snorts. “You don’t want to marry me.” He tells the prince. “And why not? You seem like the perfect suitor.” Stephen moves away from the prince. “I’m really not.” He tells him. “I think I should be able to decide for myself who I want to marry.” Tony says. Stephen sighs.

“And I agree with you, but still, you deserve someone better than me. Someone that’s still functional.” Prince Tony looks like he’s about to start arguing, when Stephen catches sight of the clock. Five till twelve. Stephen pales. “I have to go.” He tells the prince, before hurting to the door. “Wait!” He calls, but Stephen isn’t listening. He makes it to the door and runs outside, losing one of his shoes.

Stephen barely notices the lost shoe as he runs towards his carriage, the Prince still cashing him. Stephen trips over his long dress before throwing the door open and telling the horseman to drive. The carriage starts moving and the prince chases after it until it becomes too fast. He watches it go with a heart broken look on his face. Stephen wants to go back and tell him that it isn’t his fault, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The prince deserved better than him. 

A few minutes later the carriage slowed to a stop and started to shrink. Stephen quickly pushed open the door and threw himself out. When he turned to look back at the carriage, he saw it had turned into a potato with pins sticking out where the wheels were. He felt the clothes he was wearing shimmer and shift until; he was left wearing his dirty work clothes. He sighed. Good things never last for him.

He picked up the pin filled potato and the stone sticking to his foot and put them in his pocket, along with the frog he had seen hopping around. He looked around for the snake and found it was still a horse. He looked around and sighed. He was still too far from town to walk home, and he couldn't leave the snake here. 

He steeled his nerves and approached the horse. He quickly hopped on and started off on a slow trot. When he got home he was tired from the ride and his nerves were fried from jumping at everything that seemed to move in the forest. He carefully slid off the horse and it immediately became a snake that slithered out into the garden. Stephen sighed and let the frog go, before going inside the empty house. 

His family had opted to stay in an inn near the palace, so he was going to be alone tonight and tomorrow. He trudged up the hall to his room and didn’t bother putting on clean clothes, simply opting to fall down on the bed and go to sleep. 

***

Tony sat down at the table, head in his hands. It was all going so well. What did he do wrong? He felt his butler, Jarvis, put a hand on his back. “Sir, maybe you should try to find him. Even if he doesn’t want to get married, you can still get to know him better.” 

Tony sighed again. “But how can I find him again Jarvis? The shoe was fairy magic and turned back into a stone.” Jarvis seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Isn’t Thor’s brother Loki a fairy godfather?” 

Tony nodded and sat up. “So what?” He asked Jarvis. “Why don’t you ask Loki if he can replicate the spell for a time so we can see if it fits anyone.” Tony looked at Jarvis incredulously. “Why would I do that? Plenty of people have the same sized foot in this kingdom.” Jarvis nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Was there anything that made him stand out?” Tony pondered this for a moment. 

“His hands were injured and he seemed to like the healing arts.” Jarvis seemed to ponder for a moment. “Why don’t we check the records for someone who is- or used to be- a healer near his age.” Tony nods. It was the best bet at finding him. “His name was Stephen.” He tells Jarvis. 

Jarvis nods. “I’ll make sure to tell them that.” He says, and leaves the room. Tony sighed. He really hoped they were able to find the handsome man who had taken a place in his heart. 

Tony jumped as a heavy stack of paper landed on his desk. He looked up at Rhodey, who had dropped the paper. “What is this, Honeybear?” 

“It’s a list of men who match your description, all nobility.” Tony furrowed his brow. “I don’t think he’s nobility, Rhodey.” The prince says. Rhodey sighs. “Just look through the paper. One of them might be him. And Pepper worked hard on getting those.” Tony sighs and nods. “I’ll look through them.” He promises. 

Rhodey leaves and Tony looks at the large stack. He sighs. This is going to take forever. 

Tony was still going through the papers when he spotted a familiar name on one of the records. The record was for a woman named Christine Palmer. Tony didn’t know how it got in there, as he was looking for men, but he was glad it did. “Christine Palmer, age 23 blah blah blah trained under Healer Helen Cho alongside Stephen Strange.” Tony smiled. He had a name.  “Jarvis!”

  ***                                           

“I can’t believe the prince didn’t choose me! He spent the entire ball looking at some jerk in a dress.” Stephen smiles a little as he hears Donna rant. Even if he’s never going to see the prince again, it doesn’t take away the satisfaction of hearing Donna and Victor complain about being ignored for him. Not that they knew it was him, mind you, but still.

Stephen heard a knock at the door, and saw Donna get up to answer it. He heard a gasp when it opened and Donna started stuttering. “H-Hi! W-What are you doing here? My name’s Donna. What's yours? Wait, that's silly, I already know your name.” Donna trails off and a familiar voice starts to talk. 

“I’m uh… I’m looking for Stephen Strange.” Stephen can practically feel Donna’s scowl. “STEPHEN! GET OVER HERE!” Stephen sets down the rag he was using to clean the counter and walks over to the door where the prince was standing. Tony grinned at him. “Hey.” Stephen smiled slightly in response. “Hi.” 

“So, I know we might not know each other very well, but I just- I just have this feeling. Stephen Strange, will you marry me?” Stephen smiled softly and walked towards the prince. “Yes.” 

Tony smiles and leans forward, before hesitating. Stephen, however, doesn't hesitate and grabs the lapels of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. 

It wasn’t an automatic happily ever after, as they still had to get to know each other better, and there was the matter of Stephen’s family, but it was close, and they were happy.

#ironstrange #ao3 author #au #crossposted on ao3 #prince tony stark #tony stark #Stephen Strange #happy ending #Stephen is afraid of horses #Stephen kinda hates his hands #fairytale #Fairytale Au

[bluscryn]

ℭ𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔫𝔬𝔴

part 1 (we'll see)

a/n: it's the first time I ever share something I created...I'm kind of nervous

warning: sexually explicit content

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

◇ P R E S E N T ◇

The lace around her neck was supposed to itch. Surely that unforgiving material couldn't have been as comfortable as the young female made it appear. Well, it was understandable in a way.

  That's because Lucinda haven't felt anything in years.

 

  The warm lights of the hotel's restaurant reflected off of her long, chestnut hair. She was sitting on a leather clad bar stool, eavsdropping on a boring conversation. Something about the upcoming election...When did this country stop being a monarchy?

  Funny how time slips by you when you're immortal. One moment you're on a balcony, sipping champagne with the Prince of France and the next you're at your great-grandniece's funeral in the Highlands - the one who had no idea she even had you in her family tree.

  After all, those were the risks you had to take when you decide to dance on the blade of darkness.

  Seemingly bored, Lucinda checked her long nails. Tonight, they were sharpened and painted with a bloody red. But then again, tonight was a special night for her.

   She heard him way before he got close to her. The smile she flashed in his direction could have competed against any shining star.

  In his eyes, Lucinda was the most beautiful woman to ever grace the Earth. What he didn't know was that her beauty was as deadly as cianide.

 

  The warmth of his touch was enough to almost make her melt - almost.

"Peter..." she breathed out, relieved to see him there. "I thought you wouldn't come after all."

"And miss the chance to see my muse? Not in a thousand years." his low voice filled the air, a smile growing on his lips.

His muse...The memory of her, sitting naked on his velvet sofa still lingered in Peter's mind, clear as day.

He was fascinated by her. From her dark, cunning eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips to her heavenly curves that seemed to have been sculpted by a generous god.

He had written numerous songs about her, but never once mentioned her name. As if spelling out those letters would take away from the mistery of the woman he loved - no, not loved, adored.

Lucinda stood up, the heels making a small, satisfying noise on the marble floor. Even in her highest heels, the woman still had to get on her tip toes to wisper in his ear.

"I think it's time to retreat in my room. Wouldn't you say so?"

  Her voice was like honey to him, the warm breath giving him goosebumps.

"Whatever you want, my love."

His big arm wrapped around her waist, as she tried not to look into his eyes for too long. The icy blue shade was the one that still haunted her dreams.

  Night after night for decades, those eyes tortured every inch of her soul. Only the thought of seeing them again kept her alive.

  The only problem was that Peter was just an unlucky coincidence. Still...her soul could rest, for a while at least.

The minutes spent on their way from the restaurant to the room on the tenth floor passed like seconds. Lucinda was lost in her thoughts.

  Images from the elevator, Peter's lips on her neck and her own trembling fingers on the doorknob flashed before her eyes.

Moments later, her heavy dress was on the polished floor and Peter was lying on the bed, looking at her with hunger in his eyes. Hunger that she felt too, only for something else.

Looking at the strong man on her bed, Lucinda couldn't help but admire him, in a way. He was tall and muscular - she had a taste for men who looked like they could break her in half if they wanted to - with thick black hair that reached his lower back. His eyes seemed to burn holes into her skin and his angular face was partially hidden by shadows. He was beautiful, that was certain. Especially when his veiny hands were wrapped around her slender throat.

In those heated moments, she could close her eyes and pretend he was the man whose eyes she dreamt of every night. But that sweet illusion wouldn't last for long.

Still in her high heels, the woman approached him, with a soft sway of her hips. She shook her head, making her brown curls bounce a little as she stopped in front of Peter.

"Look at you. Still fully dressed, while I'm almost naked."

"Are you going to do something about it?" he asked, with an amused glint in his eyes.

She was going to, indeed.

Stepping out of the shoes, Lucinda climbed into his lap. His scent was intoxicating. Strong cologne adorned his pale skin and she couldn't help but smile.

  Running her fingers along his neck, the woman started kissing his cheek, trailing down to the jaw, the collarbones and even further, as she unbuttoned Peter's white shirt.

  A small moan escaped his sinful lips and Lucinda's whole body tensed. It was a natural reaction, almost an instinct.

  His long fingers were circling up her back and, anticipating his intention, she laughed.

"Not yet, my beloved." 

  The word left a sour taste in her mouth, but her eyes didn't betray that feeling.

 

She tangled her fingers into his hair, at the base of his neck and pulled a little. His eyes widened, only for a moment, as he squeezed her soft hips.

"My bad. Please, go on."

 

  His voice was no more than a wisper now.

  She lowered her free hand down his abdomen, grazing her sharp nails down to his happy trail.

  Biting his pink lips, Peter laid down on his back, letting her take control.

His large palms were sliding up her waist until they reached the lacy black material covering her breasts, but he didn't go any further than that.

 

Lucinda took hold of the heavy belt buckle and, with no struggle, took the belt off. With a satisfied grin, she unbuttoned his pants. Eager to finally get them off, the man raised his hips enough for her to finally throw the material on the floor.

"Mmm..." she mused,  "You're such an obedient man."

"Only for you."

In a matter of seconds, Peter laid his muse on the bed and kissed her feverishly. He slid the bra straps down her shoulders and cupped one breast with his right hand, while supporting his weight with his other hand, as to not crush her.

  Lucinda arched her back, starving for his touch. Licking his bottom lip, she plunged her nails into his back. The man tensed and bit her tounge.

"Marking me already? As if I could belong to anybody else..."

She just laughed and ran her fingers into his hair. Ah, if only he knew...

  Sliding his right hand up, Peter squeezed her throat, choking away the laugh from her beautiful lips.

"Look at me, Lucinda."

  And she did. She really looked at him.    

  For a second, it seemed as if the world froze around them. There was only this moment, only them. She, and his icy blue eyes.

  Not Peter's, his.

  The only man Lucinda has ever loved.

  Her soldier, her saviour.

  The man who left with half of her soul and her whole heart.

  Something switched inside of her and the darkness flooded her veins.

   What was she even doing?!

   Gifting her body like that to a man who wasn't him - the keeper of her heart.

  With a force she rarely showed, Lucinda pushed Peter under her. Her strong thighs were wrapped on either side of his abdomen, forcing him to stay still. Lust filled his eyes, thinking that all of this was part of their erotic game.

"Enough!"

 

  The shriek left her body, as tears began to fall on her cheeks.

He raised his eyebrows, pure concern painted on his face.

"Love, what's wro-..."

His words were interrupted by a sudden scream. His own. Looking down at her, he tried to push the woman off of him.

  It had taken her years to master a certain level of self control. But everything shattered in that moment. The pure terror on Peter's face turned her on. And she grinned.

  Lucinda - the monster, not the woman showed her true nature.

  Her fangs were deep inside the artery that ran down Peter's throat. His warm blood was filling her whole mouth, as she let out a sound similar to a moan. The coppery taste stung her tounge in the most divine way possible. The sensation was pure bliss. She tangled her fingers into his hair, in an attempt to ground herself.

  Then and there, any trace of humanity or sanity left her body. She feasted on the warm liquid like a rabid dog who had been starved for way too long.

  Between the euphoric moments, she felt his body stuggling underneath her.

   It only gave her pleasure, knowing that he was slowly falling apart.

 

   After she drained the last drop of his blood, Lucinda raised her head and looked straight into the mirror in front of her.

   Her hair was wild, framing her face in such a way that it accentuated the wildness in her eyes. Her skin regained a youthful glow, the one that she still had when she was alive. The blood was dripping from her mouth down to her neck and chest.

 

  Crimson on snow white.

  Such a beautiful contrast.

  After years of trying to create a perfect image of herself, Lucinda became, once again, what she had always been.

  A monster.

  One that seduced and drained men for survival.

  

   But only he could love her like that.

   And she was determined to make her soul whole again.

#fiction #original composition #writing #fantasy #vampire #goth #new work #original character #vampcore #interview with the vampire #victorian

[kimistorm]

Doctor Strange x Reader || It’s All a Little Strange || Chapter 4

“Mordo’s been telling me you’ve been having problems with casting spells.” You mused as you slowly paced in front of Strange. The room was silent save for the steady tapping of your shoes hitting the ground and your robes rustling with every movement.

“Yeah, so.” Strange retorted and crossed his arms like an insolent child.

You stopped walking and glared at him. “I don’t have to be here. I could just walk out that door and do my own training.” You pointed at the dark brown door to the room.

“You wouldn’t.” Strange countered smugly, “you listen to every beck and call of the Ancient One.” You ground your teeth at his comment and clenched your fists. Strange noticed this, and it did nothing to wipe off his smug smile which you so dearly wanted to do.

“Show me.” You commanded suddenly. When he didn’t do anything you gesticulated with your hands, “go on. Show me how you cast a spell.”

Strange moved back into position and went through the motions of drawing a line in the air, spinning it around to make a circle, and then punching through the center of the circle.“See, it just doesn’t work.” He sighed in a clearly frustrated way as no spark of red matter appeared in the air in front of him.

“At least your form looks good.” You noted. You furrowed your brows as you tried to think of how to explain spell casting to Strange. You too drew a line through the air, spun it around in a circle, then punched through the center. Except when you did the motions, red matter appeared and your punch resulted in a wave of air and sparks exploding out.

“How do you do that?” Strange demanded and started to pace frustratingly. “Everything I do doesn’t work!”

“Calm down Strange.” You snapped and your eyes followed him as he agitatedly walked back and forth, “I can’t focus with you moving around like that. And,” he stopped walking, “it just happens. I can’t explain it. It’s almost like I’m pulling the matter out of thin air.”

“That helps.” Strange scoffed and continued his angered pacing.

“Imagine it.” You walked up to him and put your hands in front of him to stop him from walking around, “close your eyes and imagine you’re pulling the matter from another dimension. Like you’re pulling a thread.” You stepped back and let him put his hands out in front of him. His hands moved through the air as if he were pulling a thread but to no avail.

“It’s not working (l/n).” He growled as he opened his eyes and saw no signs of the magical red matter.

“Be patient. Do it a couple of times. Focus on it.”

“Everything is about focus and patience, isn’t it?” he snapped and threw his arms in the air, “that’s all I hear. Every day! Day in and day out!”

“Because that’s how it is!” you shouted in return. “You didn’t become an acclaimed neurosurgeon overnight! You need to focus when you’re doing neurosurgery! I didn’t get here overnight.” You drew a line in the air, spun it in a circle, pushed out and squares formed around it. Turned it forty-five degrees and clapped your hands together to create an intricate shape in front of you. You pushed out at the center of the circle and a burst of air rushed out from your shape. “This took me months to do, and you’re complaining because you can’t do it in days.”

“Everyone else can.” He grumbled angrily, “I’m used to being at the top of the class. You can’t just expect me to be fine with being at the bottom.”

“Okay, what helps you learn?” you prompted.

“Reading about it. I can’t just see it.” He shook his head, “I need to know everything about it.”

You nodded, “are you aware that we have a library?”

“You what?” he demanded.

“Come with me.” You smiled and you led the way out of the room and to the library. The two of you trekked through the empty halls to a darker section of Kamar-Taj. You pushed open the heavy door to the dark library, “Wong?” you called out, “you here?” upon receiving no answer you frowned. “That’s unusual.” You pushed the door fully open and walked through the library with Strange trailing behind like a duckling. You drew out a chakram and lightly stepped to the section of the library reserved for masters. You were already fearing the worst: Wong with his head chopped off. When you peeked around the bookshelf and saw it was quiet you breathed a sigh of relief. “He must be doing something. Come,” you beckoned for him to follow you and led the way to the section that wasn’t reserved.

“What was that over there?” Strange questioned.

“Books.” You replied vaguely and peered around one shelf but decided to go down between the other bookshelves.

“Yes I already concluded that.” Strange replied snarkily, “I’m wondering why you were acting so weirdly.”

“Recently our keeper of the books had his head chopped off.” You replied nonchalantly as you pulled a book off of the shelf and Strange looked at you aghast.

“What?”

“Our keeper of the books had his head chopped off.” You repeatedly slowly and deliberately. As if you were talking to a child. You reached for a book on the highest shelf but only succeeded in brushing the spine of it. Even on your tiptoes. “Do you mind?” you asked sheepishly and pointed to the thick book. He silently laughed at your predicament but grabbed the book anyways and gave it to you. “I’m grabbing these for you.” You shoved the book back in his hands along with the first one you grabbed.

“What are they about?” he asked and turned the book to read the lettering on the spine while you continued to navigate through the library, “the Book of the Invisible Sun?”

“They’re not exactly about how to cast spells,” you took another book of the shelf but decided against it and returned it, “they explain more about the multiverse and other dimensions. Hopefully they’ll help you figure out how to summon matter from another dimension.” You took a fourth book off of the shelf and gave it to Strange. “Even if they don’t, you at least know where the library is.”

“Codex Imperium?” he looked at the book that you just gave him and you walked back to Wong’s desk, “Astronomia Nova? These all sound ridiculous!” he scoffed

“I’ve already told you,” you grabbed a blank piece of paper off of Wong’s desk, “you can’t explain much with science.” You found a pen and wrote out on the paper, “let Strange borrow the Book of the Invisible Sun, Astronomia Nova, and Codex Imperium.” You spoke slowly as you wrote down the note and then signed the note with your name. You set the pen down and put the note in a place where Wong would find it.

“So you want me to read these?” Strange asked in confusion and followed you out of the library.

“You did just say that you learn best by reading the material, did you not?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I did.” Strange agreed.

“Good.” You nodded and you strode down the hallway back to the courtyard.

“Where are we going now?” Strange questioned and walked after you.

“You are going to read your books.” You pointed at him, “and I’m going to spar with Mordo.”

“The Ancient One told you that you have to train me.” Strange frowned.

“And I am, I’ve given you the materials to train. It’s already clear that more of me yelling at you to focus isn’t going to get either of us anywhere.”

“Okay.” Strange nodded and slowed down from your brisk pace, “okay.”

“Oh, and don’t try those spells before you read the entire book!” you called over your shoulder, “the warnings come after the spells!”

                                                      ✯✯✯

“Daniel?” you asked as you entered the quiet sanctum. It was dark and the only light was coming from the windows.

“Hello (f/n).” Daniel made himself known and appeared at the balcony overlooking the main foyer.

“Could you spar with me?” you politely asked, “I haven’t gotten a chance to.”

“You’ve been going to Kamar-Taj every day.” He frowned and jumped down from the balcony, “how have you not sparred with anyone?”

“I have an apprentice.” You explained, then laughed at how ridiculous you sounded, “I’ve been training him instead of sparring. So, will you spar with me?” he gave you a level look that you weren’t sure how to interpret. “Look, I’ve got this whole plan laid out, I work at the hospital, go to Kamar-Taj, then come here and spar! That way, I can still stay in tip-top shape!”

“Why do you have an apprentice?” Daniel questioned, “you’re already putting too much on your plate.”

“The Ancient One asked me to teach him.” You answered quietly, “even against many protests. Can you believe it?” you asked in surprise, “freakin’ Doctor Stephen Strange!”

“That neurosurgeon whom you despise?” Daniel inquired.

“The same one!” you laughed wryly. It was good to finally rant about your displeasure about Strange. “He just shows up one day at Kamar-Taj! And next thing I know, the Ancient One is asking me to train him!”

“I’m not fond of you spending more time here instead of sleeping.” Daniel declared slowly.

“I’m not fond of not spending more time sleeping instead of training.” You countered. Upon realising how petty and rude you were sounding you switched tactics, “please Daniel.” Daniel continued to look at you disapprovingly, “pretty please with a cherry on top?” you tried to pull out the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He relented.

“Thank you Daniel you’re the best!” you shouted.

“If I see you yawning excessively then the sparring stops.” He negotiated.

“Okay.” You agreed. He whipped out his staff and flew at you. You barely managed to put up a shield before it collided with you.

“You’re getting slow (f/n).”

Masterlist (Originally posted in 2018)

#doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #x reader #reader insert #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #dr strange x y/n #mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #my work #kimi's writing