#I know you're judging me dia

[ashkazora]

1 & 19 for the ask game :)

Welp time to expose myself.

How many words have you written this year?

This year I published chapters 7-11 of wirip. Including the unpublished words, I've written over 120k for that. The small fics I've posted this year add up to just over 5k, while my unpublished zine fics is another 11.5 ish k words. So in total, roughly 137,000 words, plus minus! Though, I'm still planning on writing a lot more this year.

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Probably Kinkance (Kinkade/Lance) tbh. Since wirip is ending, I'm gonna try and write some one-shots in the same universe, including the kinkance post-wirip au! Other than that, I'm planning to stick most to gen as always. I've got a couple one-shot ideas for shance/klance but nothing concrete yet. I might also try my hand in writing a wrightworth fic but We Shall See.

Ask me a question from ao3 wrapped, writers edition!

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 4/8

Yeah, this chapter is not for the kids 😮‍💨

18++

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

You've done well in training, well enough for coach to let you travel with the first team to their away game in London. If there is one thing you've gotten in bedded in your head from training with Ruben, it would be to "play with your mind." He would shout this at you every time you tried to dribble, or dribble when a pass could be made instead.

"Play with your mind, Y/N."

It was during the last minute's of Manchester City's fixture against Chelsea when their coach called you up from the bench. It was unexpected, terrifying even. But when an opportunity presents itself you take it.

"Play with your mind." You mumbled, as you ran down the field like your life depended on it. A pass was made and suddenly the ball was at your feet. You charged towards the Chelsea defenders, sweping past one without challenging the others. With a late pass to another charging City girl you managed to assist your first Super League goal whilst taking a knee to the side of your body. A price you were willing to pay for more moments like that.

"You should have seen me Ruben, I was amazing."

Despite it being a Friday night, Ruben had been more than willing to train you. "You shouldn't have charged the defender." He said. Raining on your parade.

"I got knocked down, so what? Isn't that what football is about, sacrifice?"

"You call getting injured and missing games sacrifice? I say it was a selfish move against your own teammates."

"Whatever." You scuffed.

You didn't expect anything less from Ruben. What you had gathered from spending more time with him was that he was uptight and practical beyond what was necessary. However, he did help you collect the balls at the end of every training session and for that you were grateful.

"Some of the girls invited me to celebrate the win with them, you should come." You said.

"You're going out? Tonight?" Ruben grabbed a ball, dumping it in the bag you held. He wore a skeptical look on his face, judging you.

"Just for a few drinks." You shrugged. "I thought it'd be good. Who knows, if I get cozy with the first team coach might let me play with them more?"

"Y/N, you're rated based on your performance, not your ability to socialize. Besides, you should be recovering from a game not to risk future injuries."

"Well, how do I do that?"

You tied a knot on the ball bag, letting Ruben carry it for you.

"Recover?" He frowned.

"Yes?"

Normally you'd consider a goodnight sleep the best way to recover, however, Ruben thought otherwise. "Hydration is most important, preferably water. And you must eat somthing, not less than forty-five minutes after you've exercised."

It was strange, being invited to Ruben's  apartment on a friday night. It was big. You stood in his kitchen, his dining table overflowing with healthy nutrients. The two of you were quite comfortable with each other by now, and Ruben was nothing short of a gentleman around you.

"I've prepared the heating pod to help with your blood circulation and then you can continue recovering in my message chair."

It was a passion of his, you could tell from the way he was explaining everything to you, like he really wanted you to learn.

"But first we eat?" You said hopefully.

Ruben blushed realizing that he was getting a bit carried away. "Yes, first we eat. Could you grab that jar for me?"

"Sure."

You reached up, the jar of pasta within your reach. Just as you grasped it with your fingers, a sharp pain shot through the side of your body.

"Y/N, you okay?" Ruben rushed to your side, seeing how you winced.

"My ribs." You groand.

"Let me see."

His arms grabbed your shoulders, helping you stand up straight. Your fingers trembled trying to raise your shirt, the pain too sharp.

"May I?"

Ruben asked for consent to help you. You nodded, letting him roll up the hemn of your top.

"Fuck."

You didn't need to look down to know that it was bad, Ruben's reaction said it all. He looked to you. "Ice bath, now."

Your body shivered in the cold water. Ruben had you sit in it for eight minutes, a timer going off when it was time for you to rise.

"Y/N, you alright?"

There was a light knock on the door, Ruben's voice heard on the other end.

"Yeah, I think I'm good."

"Um...I brought some clothes."

You wrapped a towel around yourself, moving to open the bathroom door. Ruben appeared in the frame. "It's just a t-shirt but it's big enough to cover..." He coughed. "....you know."

"Thank you Ruben, the t-shirt is fine." You moved to shut the door but Ruben's arm appeared in the gap. "I um....I also brought some ointment."

"Oh."

"For the pain." He said, offering you the bottle.

"Thanks Ruben, really. I just don't think..."

"What's wrong?" He frowned.

You shook your head, seeing how worried he became. "It's nothing, really Ruben. It's just that..."

"Y/N, please. If there's somthing I can do."

"Well..." You closed your eyes and sighed. "It hurts too much to lift my arms, so you're gonna have to help me apply the ointment."

Ruben froze.

"Of course, If you're not comfortable..."

"No." He protested. "only if.....you don't mind me helping you?"

Heat rose to your face, realizing what you were asking of him. Either way you nodded. "I'll be right out."

It was awkward, so fucking awkward. You stepped out of the bathroom wearing Ruben's t-shirt. It was shorter than you had expected, cutting just above your knees. Ruben sat on the edge of the living room couch, raising his head when you approached. His hair sprouted upwards as if he had compulsively been running his hands through it. "Shall we begin?" You immediately regretted uttering those words. Ruben looked unsure weather to sit or stand so he let you decide as you stepped up to him, letting him raise your shirt until he could see the bruise on your ribs. Your legs tremble beneath you, the draft between your legs not making things easier for you.

"Is this okay?"

Ruben scooped some ointment out of the bottle, applying it to you skin. He was gentle with his touch, easing up on the pressure if his movements made you wince.

"Ruben, I'm so sorry that I..."

"Sshh." He hushed. "It's okay, I agreed to it."

"Yes but..." It was really awkward, not to mention the tempting weight you felt in the pit of your stomach.

"It's okay Y/N, I'm almost done."

"Okay."

He kept his eyes above your waist, despite you practically offering him a view of the shape of you. Your legs, your thighs...your ass. He looked so focused, eyebrows furrowed and one hand held flat against  your lower back to prevent you from moving as he applied the ointment. It was strange, being taller then him for once.

"I could have challenged that defender." You said, still thinking of the game. "If I was stronge enough."

Ruben grunted. "It's why you don't see as much dribbling in the Super League or female football in general."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, defenders are usually the fittest players on the field. They're supposed to be. But the rest of the players..."

"Ruben are you saying women aren't capable of dribblin because weren't strong enough?" An outrageous opinion, to you.

"No, not dribbling." Ruben raised his head, his chin caressing your abs. "Dribbling is easy for men and women, but getting past a defender one on one is different and not recommended in women's football. I'm sure that's why you can't get your coach off your ass. To him, passing the ball would the most efficient way to get past another teams defense."

"So you're saying there's a chance coach will let me play football the way that I want?"

Ruben chuckled. "If your willing to gain a few pounds, sure."

You frowned. The idea of gaining weight was not that appealing to you.

"I meant pounds of muscles, Y/N. Not fat." He read you like an open book. You looked down and smiled. Ruben was done applying the ointment. His hands now caressing the back of your knees, slowly, moving up and down.

"I should probably call Ester, tell her to come pick me up?"

Ruben shrugged. "Or you could stay the night?"

"Ruben."

"If you want."

He pushed you forwards, his hands moving from your legs to your ass. You gasped as his nose nudged your belly. The nerves along your spine came to life, raising the hair on your arms.

Ruben looked up, eyes drowsy. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes."

You were practically begging for it, for Ruben to touch you, pleasure you anywhere that ached. He pulled you forwards his face nuzzling against his t-shirt. "You smell good."

You smiled. "I smell like you."

It felt like unfamiliar territory, a man in awe of your body, his hands moving all over you.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

Ruben had gone to raise your shirt again,  serenading any exposed skin with lingering kisses.

"You have to tell me if you're not comfortable with what I'm doing."

"Ruben." You raised his head, cupping his face between your hands, his rough beared between your fingers. "I want this." You nodded, not sure if you've ever wanted anything else this bad. Ruben's eyes burned in the dimmed light. "But you're hurt." He said, arms wrapping around your body, craving something that he couldn't have. Forbidden fruit.

"Fuck me with your mouth then."

Ruben looked up, his eyes batting in suprise. You met his gaze, biting your lip.

"I'm sure."

It's all he needed to hear. Ruben's hands suddenly become less gentle. They had previously moved around the area where it ached the most, but with your permission he slid a hand up your thighs, not stopping until you drew a sharp breath.

"Yes, baby. That's the spot isn't it?"

It was filthy. Whatever was unraveling between you seemed forbidden, meant to be kept behind close doors.

"Y/N, say you want this."

"I want this."

Ruben slid fingers between your folds, moving to please the aching burn that had its epicentrum at the tip of your clit.

"Tell me what to do?" He demanded, his hand not rubbing you fast enough.

"Please, fuck me Ruben."

"Fuck you how?"

You threw your head back, the pleasure immense. "Fuck me with your mouth."

It was wet and warm. Ruben's head tilted in search for your opening. Your panties had already been pushed to the side, revealing the part of you that needed his attention the most. "Yes." Your cried, almost loosing your footing to the pleasure that shot through your body, head to toe. "Yes, Ruben, just like that."

He groaned below you, his tongue helping himself to all you had to offer.

"Fuck."

Your hands went to his hair, your eyes squinting shut. Ruben had covered your clit with his mouth, gathering it between his wet lips, sucking you dry.

"Please Ruben, I'm gonna...."

It sent you over the edge, that and Ruben's rough hands reaching under your shirt, rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers.

"Yes." You cried out. Melting into a puddle of nothing as you climaxed. Ruben caught you in his arms, immediately climbing on top of you as he layed you back against his couch.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now, but I can't because you're hurt."

"No." You whimpered, your thighs wrapping around his stem, the bulge in his pants putting pressure against your sensitive pussy. "Yes, like that. Fuck me just like that."

"You sure." Ruben paused all movment, raising his head to look at you.

"I'm sure Ruben, please keep..."

You could say no more. Your shirt came off, tossed aside. Ruben then lowered his hips against yours, his hard erection aligning between your thighs. The friction between you wet pussy and his jeans would be enough to send both over the edge. And so he began, dry humping you like a horny dog.

"Please Ruben, harder and faster." You clung to him, locking your legs around his hips. Ruben groaned, his body trembling like yours. "Fuck Y/N, I don't want to hurt you."

"Por favor, Ruben, me machuque." (Please  Ruben, hurt me.)

He continued to hold back, sucking your nipples to slightly increase the pleasure. You were horny enough to be satisfied with what he was already doing to you.

"Ruben, I'm gonna...again."

Your head fell back against cuchens, mouth open, eyes rolling back in your sockets. Ruben himself moaned into the crease of your neck, with one last thrust ejaculating his load into his pants. You were both out of breath laying on top of each other, coming down from the high together. Ruben sat up once the mist of sex seized to linger. He ran a anxious hand down his face, looking less than pleased with himself. You felt strange too, a sudden need to put your panties back on. However, Ruben rose to his feet, towering over you.

"This can never happen again."

He picked up your shirt from the floor, tossing it your way. The expression on his face said it all, it was obvious regret.

"I'm calling a cab. You need to leave."

[cosmicstarlatte]

Pumpkin Carving (Obey Me!)

The guys want to try out pumpkin carving. How does it go?🎃

»Characters: Demon Bros+Dia, brief side characters as judges »Tags: Humor/Fluff, Bulleted Fic »Notes: Part of OM! Flufftober 2023 // reblogs are always loved & appreciated :3 // halloween divider by saradika!

Lucifer: The Show Off™️

Decided to go for an intricate design for his pumpkin

He worked carefully & put his entire lucifussy in it

It was beautiful watching him work his magic he looked like he was creating a symphony

However his pumpkin looked like mush in the end

Everyone laughed. Everyone. Satan & Belphie the hardest.

Solomon: "...it looks great Lucifer. I can see the hard work you-"

"Don't patronize me."

Mammon: Macaroni Art Vibes™️

Complained saying the whole thing was lame but he got really into it

"Heh, look at the little guy!"

It actually looked really cute for his first pumpkin, it had a simple silly face!

Took photos with it only because "it's the type of thing you're suppose to do!"

The judges liked his very much & he came in 3rd place🙂

"...Ya so where's my reward!?"

Levi: Limited Edition Collector's Item 2023: Akuzon Fall Exclusive™️

Geeked out because he always wanted to carve a pumpkin! JUST LIKE ANIMES!

Of course he had a ruri chan stencil already made, he was waiting for this day

His pumpkin actually looked really good & made with love! He even added glowsticks to it!

However dun dun dun, tragedy struck!

He dropped it before he could show the judges

Poor baby cried his eyes out & you guys had to buy him his favorite milk tea

Satan: The Smashing Pumpkins™️ (please don't sue me, thanks!!!)

A little too good with a knife

Made the best intricate design out of everyone, it wowed the judges (& pissed off Lucifer)

Then he started punching & smashing it, completely obliterating it

Beel tried to eat the flying pieces that flew into the air

Delicately placed a pretty candle on top of the mush as the finishing touch

Solomon: "...You know what I like it."

He came in 2nd place!

Asmo: Bedazzled & Bright™️

"It screams 'I AM the now' you know!?"

I mean, he added jewels & even a mini light up disco ball inside

He carved his face into it & it projected his face onto a wall

some say they saw it reflect on the night sky like a hero signal

Was Luke's favorite because it looked fun & bright!

Note: his pumpkin got stolen off the HOL porch during the night.

Beel: Frankenstein Era™️

I know what you're thinking & no he didn't eat it 😐

(Everyone made sure he was well fed before doing the group activity)

His pumpkin looked the silliest, he added mini pumpkins to it & stacked them

Solomon: "What do you think would happen if we brought that thing to life?"

Barb: "Don't."

He did snack on the few pumpkin pieces that got carved out

...OK yeah he ate it all in the end but that was later!!! Leave him alone! He tried so hard!!!

Belphie: BANKSY™️

Didn't really want to participate but whatever brother Lucifer says, goes.

While everyone carved & decorated their pumpkin, he just napped on his like a pillow

Lucifer scolded him for doing nothing to his pumpkin

Belphie challenged him saying it was a work of art & up to interpretation

The judges 'ooo & ahh'd'

His pumpkin came in 1st place

LuciferGrindingHisTeeth.jpg

It's possible Lucifer chucked the pumpkin into oblivion when no one was looking

Diavolo: THE Pumpkin Face™️

"You can't beat the classics!"

Wanted to do a classic pumpkin face to keep human tradition! He appreciates human culture!

He took his time, stenciling was fun & cutting was a little rough

It got a little messy but he enjoyed it

The pumpkin ended up being a thing of nightmares but no one had the heart to tell him

(Barbatos cringing in the background)

Luke fainted at the sight. Dia naively took it as a sweet compliment

⬦You might also like: Costume Shopping Coconut︱Waffle House︱

[ur-dad-satan]

All the brothers' official and unofficial love languages (headcannon) <3

Grandpa Luci

I think Grandpa Luci's official love languages are quality time and acts of service. No matter if you're just hanging out in his office while he works, having a little dinner date, or he's making your legs quiver, he just likes to be around you. He also likes to take care of things for you when you're really tired or overwhelmed.

I think his unofficial love language is sharing his music. If he's comfy enough, he'd listen to music with you over a nice glass of Demonus. And if you're lucky or he's drunk enough, he may dance with you. There may even be some cursed records that he hasn't even shared with Dia that he's willing to share with you.

MamMoney:

His official love languages are words of affirmation and receiving gifts. Being verbally abused by his brothers all this time can often make him sad and feel bad about himself. Let him know how much he means to you and he'll melt. Also, receiving gifts let's him know that you were thinking about him and that he deserves nice things.

His unofficial love language is sharing his interests. When he find out that you like the same things he likes whether it's games, gambling, or a favorite color, he will not let you go. He'll go out of his way to find a way to do your favorite things together.

Levia-Chan

His official love languages are words of affirmation and quality time. That jealous boy's mind is always going a million miles a minute and his anxiety is almost always through the roof. Let him know that he's okay and that you're there for him and he'll go weak in the knees. He also loves hanging out with you. Whether you're playing games, watching movies, or just doing your own thing in the same room, he loves it.

His unofficial love language is being absolutely unashamedly himself. He knows that some of his hobbies are conventionally "weird" and uncommon, but he likes them. He doesn't mind if you're not into these things, but he likes that you don't judge him or make fun of him for his likes.

Cat-Tan

His official love languages (even if he says he doesn't have any) are physical touch and quality time. (he like me frfr) He doesn't like many people touching him, but for you? He would crawl in your lap like a cat to get you to touch him. Whether that ends innocently or not depends on the vibe. He also likes hanging out with you specifically. He doesn't really care if you're mad at him and not talking to him; he'll be at the foot of your bad out of view. You know he's there by the occasional page turn, but you can't stay mad at him for too long.

His unofficial love language is books. Obviously. Whether it's an old book, new book, one that he's already read, or one he's been meaning to get his pretty little hands on, if it's from you or one of his brothers, he's going to treasure it. Even if he doesn't show it, it's now immensely special and he'll destroy the entire Devildom if anything happens to them.

Asmo (slut lovingly)

His official love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. The physical touch doesn't need to be sexual even if he is the avatar of lust. He would internally melt at even holding his hand or kissing his forehead. (am I projecting? Probably.) The same goes for words of affirmation. He already knows that he's the prettiest and hottest demon in all of the devildom. Tell him that he's so so smart and so talented. Tell him that he has an amazing personality.

His unofficial love language is fashion and makeup. If he's sharing his clothes with you, you're so in. Ask him to do face masks and nails and you won't be able to get rid of him for hours. He'll gush over how much your makeup looks so good on you or how much your makeup looks great on him. He'll take you shopping and spend almost as much on you as he spent on himself.

Beelie-Boo

His official love languages are acts of service and quality time. These two go hand in hand. This gentle giant just likes being around you; it doesn't matter what you two are doing or for how long as long as he gets food after or during. He doesn't mind sharing food with you but he gets most of it. He especially loves when you two cook together. It's a bit of a struggle, but it's so worth it. He even likes working out with you because he can make sure you're doing it correctly and hang out with you at the same time.

His unofficial love language is taking care of everyone. He may be pretty inexpressive with his face, but his actions speak way louder than his expressions ever could anyway. One of his brothers is sick, hurt, sad, upset, or anything else for that matter? He's immediately going to try his best to help of get someone else who knows what to do. He cares about his brothers so much it hurts.

Baby Belphie

His official love languages are quality time and words of affirmation. He loves spending time with people he cares about, especially his twin and you. He may not seem like it, but he actually does love spending time with his older brothers including Luci even if he won't admit it. He could even be sleeping in the same room as his brothers are hanging out in and be happy. Also, even though he's not as insecure as Mam or Levi, he still likes to be reassured that he is wanted and loved by his brothers. He needs to know that some things are not his fault and out of his control.

His unofficial love language is stargazing. He loves looking up at the stars in the devildom. He would absolutely melt if you were to take him stargazing in the human world. He would love a planetarium and want to go back all the time with Beel and then with all of his brothers. He would probably want to marry you if you took him to look at human world stars.

[akuaya-eng]

(Main story) Chapter 5 - Episode 7

- DEVIL'S WORK -

Rosé

Big bro, you called for me~? I'm busy as always.

Vanis

Sorry for being late. Rosé caught me nearby and wasted some of my time.

Rosé

Oh come on, blaming me? You looked like you had something to say.

Vanis

That's just Rosé's imagination.

Adder

… Late and noisy. And you should knock before entering a room. Why can't you do what mere humans can?

Vanis

… Oh, Tuner is here too. Are you enjoying yourself in the Devil World?

Rosé

It looks like you're still unsatisfied, right? Alright, maybe I'll lend a hand!

Vanis

What are you planning to do?

Rosé

Remember that tiger I caught on the way back? I've got an idea for it. It'll be a playmate for our bored Tuner here ♪

Vanis

...Hey, you. Maybe it's better to run away now.

Adder

…Are you done talking nonsense? Speak more than necessary again and I'll make you a wandering curse around this mansion. Got it?

Rosé

Got it!

Vanis

Sorry… What's this about?

Adder

...It's about the Gloriosa family. If they're really planning to cause a calamity, it's a problem. If their reputation rises, itcould interfere with the Belladonna family's rule over the Devil World.

Vanis

Causing calamities is an important duty for devil… Or so it was said. It would be a long-awaited achievement for the lackluster Gloriosa.

Adder

They couldn't possibly achieve it alone, but it seems like someone is playing tricks on me. Regardless, we can't just sit back and watch them cause a calamity.

Rosé

Huh~!? Stop them!? I have a plan…

Vanis

You're still not giving up? The original plan would've failed if Adder found out.

Rosé

I don't know about that. I don't think anything will happen yet.

Adder

Hah, seems like it won't be much fun. Don't worry, Rosé. I'll give you another job.

Rosé

Another job!? But I'm busy with my research~!!

Adder

Listen to what I say and don't question it. Remember, you have no right to refuse.

Rosé

Fine~… I can't help it... Alright~... what's the job then~?

Adder

Go to Espada's place. And…

Rosé

Huh!? Espada's place!? Why didn't you say so earlier~ ♡ Oh, Big bro is so good at teasing ♪ Meeting Pada means business or maybe… a feast ♪ Oh, I'm looking forward to seeing Pada after so long. I bet he'll make the most adorable face of disgust when he sees me. Ah, just imagining it gives me chills.

Vanis

Rosé really likes Espada, huh.

Rosé

Of course! Pada is my one and only cute little brother. I just can't help but want to spoil him. He's scared of me and always runs away pitifully. That face he makes is just precious… So, I wonder if he's coming back home soon. Seems like he's really into that bastard. Wonder what he finds so appealing about him? Maybe he'll come back if I kill Dia.

Adder

Don't talk lightly about killing your own kind. Even you should understand that much.

Rosé

… Big bro really has a sharp mind. You don't get my witty jokes!

Vanis

He's always like this. I understand why Espada might not want to come back. Anyway, Adder. Making him run errands as punishment essentially is getting away with it. The current head of the Belladonna family, which rules the Devil World, is too soft on his relatives.

Adder

Don't you get it yet, Vanis? This is an opportunity for Belladonna. Rosé has actually made a contribution in hindsight.

Rosé

Am I being praised right now? Can you praise me a bit more?

Adder

Don't get ahead of yourself. Remember, your life was spared by a thread. Even though you're family, if I judge you useless, I won't hesitate to dispose of you.

Rosé

Yes, understood ♪ Big bro is very kind ♡ So, what should I do after meeting Pada?

Adder

… Cause a calamity using the bastard. Have Espada cooperate with that.

Vanis

…!

Rosé

Ooh ♪

Adder

Steal the calamity the Gloriosa family is planning. Not just steal it, make it grander. By causing a massive calamity, the power of the Belladonna family will become even more formidable than before.

Rosé

As expected of big bro! It sounds even more fun than I thought~.

Vanis

Using Dia-kun…? That's quite a plan.

Tuner

(thinking) Using Dia to cause a calamity...!? That's so terrifying… We have to stop it…! But…

Spirit of Wisdom

… Yes. We must not stop it.

Tuner

…!

Spirit of Wisdom

You're a good kid. You understand that you must not stop it yourself. Causing calamities is among the devils' deeds. To stop it would be to interfere with them.

Tuner

Can I only silently watch?

Spirit of Wisdom

That's right. That's your job as a Tuner.

Adder

What's wrong, Tuner? You look pale. Scared? For us, causing calamities is an honor. With this, the Belladonna family's foundation will become even more sturdy. Causing a calamity with our own hands is showing our power as devils. It actively shows our power to the world.

Tuner

………

Adder

Viewing the beginning of a calamity is a privilege. Think of it that way, it's a great honor. Now, you will capture Dia. We must secure him before the angels do. Don't screw this up. Show us that you're at least somewhat useful.

Vanis

Hehe, that's a big task. Got it.

Adder

What are you doing, Rosé? Hurry up and head to Colchicum.

Rosé

Understood ♪ Lemme dress up and go~.

Vanis

We need to secure Dia before he gets caught by them… It's going to be quite a tough job. Let's set up a teleportation magic circle somewhere suitable--

Curse's voice

Ad...der…lea...der…!

Vanis

… Sigh. Looks like the source is that long desk.

Adder

I'm busy. Purify it however you see fit.

Vanis

Is this also part of our mission this time? Honestly, the way they treat people… Let's just get it done quickly.

[vacantgodling]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!

What is the afterlife like in your WIP? (are there ghosts? Do you know what happens after someone dies? Any fun lore? Whatever you want to yell about!)

hi! happy sts <3 thanks so much for your question!

i can answer this both for tcol & paramour so i'll do both.

here's a full explanation of paramour's religion here for some extra context!

there isn't like a "confirmed" afterlife like how there is one in tcol, however in the main religion of galeré (the country paramour takes place in) there is an idea that one day the vat of darkness will eventually over take the savior (or the son by traditionalists) and evil will repopulate the world fully. only those who have died and been judged to be true and just by the judge will be able to travel with the shepherd (or the father for traditionalists) to the new planet that he will make for humans. very similar to the chrisitian idea of armageddon and going to be one with god or whatever.

in tcol there is no such thing as a suffering afterlife. when all beings die, they return to cerullius which is essentially heaven, to be with IIARAN and IISIDIA. however the only way that you will be able to access cerullius if you're a terranean is through a proper burial, so those who aren't buried are essentially ghosts and are "doomed" to wander throughout the world for the rest of ??. there is a way to escape this fate and that is through the minor goddess The Lady of the Mists.

tl;dr The Lady of the Mists used to be a terranean princess pre-478 named princess pinella dia (and was one of the elder sisters of mitică the nomad or the first king of lathsbury proper) and during the journey from eros to ubwyn or what's now called the city of sorrows, she and many others perished during a land bridge collapse. because their bodies were unable to be buried, their spirits were the first (essentially) to be doomed to wander terrae however, pinella was offered a choice by the deity of medicine (among other things) YUTARA and was venerated to become a minor deity and a servant of theirs who guides to cerullius spirits who weren't buried and its only through her guidance that they can reach cerullius. here's an excerpt that kind of explains it (featuring my beloved lath who is a guardian at this point).

*also as an aside, all deities should be referred to when speaking of them in all caps--but when i write about them in character, as in them speaking amongst themselves in lore pieces, i write their names with the standard capitalization. this is bc they aren't above one another tm. just thought i should mention that lol.

Yutara stepped forward, snow melting under their sandaled feet. They continued until they stopped in front of the form of the weeping spirit, and crouched, until they were eye level.

“Why do you cry, child?” Yutara’s voice was melodic but calming, and at its soothing tones, the spirit’s cries began to slow.

“I have been forgotten here…” The ghost’s voice, in comparison to her loud cries, was soft. In it, a harrowed memory that would rustle the most stale of dead leaves, and it warbled out of her timidly. “Though I have not been dead for long my kin have all moved on without me. There is no one left to search for my bones, no one will bother to bury me. I am all alone here… it is so cold.”

“You know,” Yutara hummed, tunelessly. They began to swirl a vial in their hand, the light dazzling and drawing the eye of the ghost. As she stared, Yutara continued. “There will be many other people who will die such as you. Be it by accident, or on purpose, in sickness, or in health, and there will be no one to remember them.” 

“It’s horrible.” The ghost whispered, turning her gaze away. “No one deserves to live such an afterlife.”

When the ghost looked up once more at Yutara, Lath caught a glimpse of her gaze. Her eyes were slowly beginning to return to their original brown. “I would seek to remember them. Even if there is no one to mourn them, I shall.”

“How will you do so, child?” Yutara asked gently. “When your form is tied to your scattered remains?” 

“I will find a way to leave here.” The brown was returning even stronger now, a grey hue now mixing into the irises like ash. “I will venture beyond this wretched place, and I will go onto the world. Where there may be cities, there will be ruin. Where there are people, there are those forgotten. Every dog, every child, every person who surrenders to their rest with no one to properly attend them, I will attend. I will heal their spirits, so their next life will be happier. I will walk among the shadows of the fallen, and I will cradle them when they fall.”

Perhaps, as was the way of the gods, Yutara knew this all along. 

“Then I will grant you, my child, a gift. A wondrous one, that should aid you in all that you seek.” Yutara turned the vial of starlight over to the spirit and the spirit reached for it hesitantly, unsure if she could touch it. But when she cupped her hands around it, instead of phasing through, the vial rested weightily in her palms. “Should you truly desire this, then drink three sips from that vial. Any more, and you will be sent away to Cerullius. Any less, and nothing shall happen at all. Think carefully, my child, for once you drink from my cup, there is no turning back.”

Despite, Yutara’s words of advice, the spirit was already tilting her head back to accept the starlight. One, two, three sips Lath counted, and suddenly, the spirit’s form was enveloped in brightness.

When the light faded, no longer did there stand a pitiful ghost, weeping over her scattered remains. In her place stood a tall, ethereal woman. Her eyes were fully grey, and still barefoot, yet dressed in a long, draping dress she was adorned with a crown of white and silver flowers which Lath knew would never wilt. 

Yutara stood, tucking the vial back into their robes, and though their face was still covered, Lath could sense their satisfaction at the spirit’s choice. It was now that Lath finally spoke.

“What should we call you, fair Pinella? For now you are a goddess of your own right and stature.” 

“No longer shall I be Princess Pinella. They shall call me The Lady of the Mists, for wherever I shall go, fog should adorn my feet. It will be a blanket for my steps, and deliver to me the corpses which I will mourn.” And as she said it, it was so, as a thick, rolling mist began to coil from the soles of her feet and gather about her skirts. It wafted from the underside of her hair, and as she stretched her fingers out, so too did the fog unfurl from her thin fingers.

“My Lady,” Lath acknowledged, with the bow of his head. “Where shall you go?” This time when she spoke, she looked up at Lath, and the compassion in her eyes was overflowing. It took the form of tears that began to streak down her face. “Lath I… I am unsure. But I am happy. Happy that I finally have a sense of purpose.” She then turned to Yutara, curtseying deeply.

“Thank you, most high one. You are unbelievably kind.” However, Yutara tutted, gently, and lifted her head with gloved fingers. “There is no need to bow to me, my child. For you are now an extension of me. I am honored to have such a compassionate young goddess to serve those whom I cannot save.”

“And I will gladly, most high one.”

tbh i could rant about the historical characters of tcol like all fucking day but i'll stop here for now! thank you so much <3

[bitchkay]

May I bother you with a request for a list of requests that are in your inbox/WIPs? it's ok if you don't want to also

Alot--🤭🤭

Less than I thought actually

Like I have a ridiculous amount of drafts but such a small portion of that is actual WIPs and asks that have yet to be answered

I did count tho

Out of almost 200 drafts (dont judge me) like 40(39 actually) are actually WIPs/asks

And out of that just over half are actually like horny asks yk the nsfw shit😈

And the rest are (whether it's an ask or not) stand alone posts be it a headcanon post, full length fanfic(700 words+ and/or formatted as such), scenarios/drabbles(usually under 300 words) or me just talking

As for my Google docs

16

15 of which are full length fanfics and about half of those are already like 2000+ words

The other one is just a scenario I started for Sherry last week

Heres a list from oldest to newest currently in my drafts

Court of darkness characters with a black s/o part 1 (headcanons)

Court of darkness characters with a black s/o part 2 (headcanons)

Court of darkness characters with an s/o that writes poetry (headcanons)

April fools stories but they're actually good(nsfw short scenarios)

Loving on Tino cus were in a drought for Tino content (horny ask)

CoD cones giving backshots part 1 (nsfw headcanons/scenarios)

Fenn is a whore, mc should have her way with him (horny ask)

Assigning court of darkness characters my little pony kins (headcanons)

Violet is deeply in love with you therefore she is fucking you very hard (horny ask)

Soft Addis Ira HCs *non romantic* (headcanons)

Dia Akedia 🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️ (me analyzing dia under a microscope/studying his queer codedness with research and references)

Violet with a mommy kink. (horny ask)

Quartus NSFW headcanons (nsfw headcanons)

Court of darkness characters with a bratty s/o (nsfw headcanons)

Breeding kink with Addis Ira (horny ask)

Fucking Dia in a mushroom paradise his bedroom (horny ask)

Tino getting a love boner (fanfic/scenario)

Domming Guy (horny ask)

Being a brat with Guy (horny ask)

Making love to Fenn (horny ask)

Ass, tits, or thighs, Court of darkness edition (headcanons)

Thirsty for Dia (horny ask)

Toa book 2 smut (horny ask(

Roy in bondage (horny ask)

Loving on Rio with freckles (horny ask)

Give mc a dick, see what happens, w/ fenn (horny ask)

My favorite part about each consort (me showing love to my boys💞)

Quartus seeing you cry during sex (horny ask)

Lynt and fucking in the library nook (horny ask)

Cuddling with Hawke (headcanons)

T4T w Dia (horny ask)

Kings orgy (horny ask)

Loving and fucking on Aquia (horny ask)

Roy giving hot messy creampies (horny ask)

Threesome with guy and Toa (horny ask)

Toa being a little shit as a sub (horny ask)

Threesome with Sherry and Violet (horny ask)

Quartus😈😈 (horny ask)

Addis Ira(horny ask)

And for the Google docs now

In no particular order cus I forget what's the oldest😶😶

I be in and out of those mfs, they be rearranging themselves

Sleepover with Sherry Invidia (smut)

N/A (Zev Avari smut)

Just like that~ (threesome with Grayson and Tino)

Special Lessons *requested* (Lou smut)

"C'mon share." (threesome with Guy and Fenn)

Intimacy beyond word *modern AU* (Rio smut)

F-R-EAAK (tino smut)

N/A (Lynt smut)

To fall into bed with you~ (Lance suggestive fluff)

My roommates brother *modern AU* (Zev Avari smut)

Between screens *modern AU* (Knight smut)

LUVU2D3ATH <3 (Lance suggestive fluff)

Morning after (Lance fluff)

Lamborghini *modern AU* (Roy smut)

An Irian bride (Young! Addis Ira)

Come through~ *modern AU* (Rio smut)

Now I know what you're about to say "Kay that's literally so much!" but listen

The stuff in my Google docs has been sitting for more time than the stuff in my drafts

From the stuff in my drafts the oldest thing there is from August and that was less than 6 months ago

Some of the stuff in my Google docs has been there since last year

I'm not overwhelmed by the amount of shit I haven't finished

Once upon of time this would scare me but I'm good keep em coming cus I love this shit

I love receiving asks for yall and listen my anons freaky as shit yall keep me entertained

Some of yall write full on essays in my indox about these mfs and bitch I encourage it more life to you

Yall want to make sweet love to Aquia? REAL‼

Yall wanna tie Roy up to the bed while you overstim his cock? EVEN REALER‼

Send it my way I will get back to you eventually all I ask is you be patient

[rebelwithoutabroom]

yeah i was thinking about the fanfic situation :/ that sucks so bad i know a lot of you guys were putting so much into writing. happy you're okay though and dw about losing friends we're here to stay regardless of mc men 💞🫂 te amo taizita se cuida e espero que tu tenha um dia melhor hoje <3

Obrigada meu anjo, vc tbb ♡♡♡ yeah i had so much planned and fic writing has been so good to me that i just dk what ill do yet. I wanna sleep on it and judge with a clear head, but i do have some dsmp/minecraft aus so maybe those will survive. Either way, im waiting to see what he says abt it, same as we did with dream's situation, but fully aware i might have to cut my losses

[multlingvulo]

HAPPY VEGAN DAY!

Veganism isn't just a diet, it's a ethical position. We acknowledge animal suffering is just as real as human suffering. Thus, we try our best to avoid it. We understand, for example, that some scientifcic research requires animal testing, while others don't. We also understand that, although many crops impact the fauna much less than cattle, agriculture has to be sustainable. Veganism without sustainability and class conscience is just a diet. Are there ethical ways to get eggs? Ethical ways to use animals for transportation and work? What about surviving in extreme situations? We don't have all the answers. Don't expect us to. I also know I won't change anyone's mind about going vegan. So I don't judge. In fact, I know most people would be unable to stab a pig to eat it if I asked them too. So you're already much closer to veganism than you think. What vegan recipes would you like to see in a furry vegan cookbook? Let me know in the comments!

FELIZ DIA DO VEGANISMO!

O veganismo não é só uma dieta, é uma posição ética. Reconhecemos que o sofrimento animal é tão real quanto o sofrimento humano. Por isso, tentamos ao máximo evitá-lo. Entendemos, por exemplo, que algumas pesquisas científicas exigem testes em animais, enquanto outras não. Também entendemos que, embora muitas safras impactem menos a fauna do que criação de gado, a agricultura tem que ser sustentável. Veganismo sem sustentabilidade e consciência de classe é só uma dieta. Há formas éticas de conseguir ovos? Formas éticas de usar animais para transporte e trabalho? E sobreviver em situações extremas? Não temos as respostas pra todas as perguntas. Não espere que tenhamos. Também sei que não vou convencer aninguém a ser vegan. Então não julgo. Na verdade, sei que a maioria das pessoas seria incapaz de abater um porco se as pedisse pra fazer. Você está mais perto do veganismo do que imagina. Que receitas veganas você gostaria de ver num livro de receitas veganas furry? Me diga nos comentários!

FELIĈAN VEGANISMAN TAGON!

Veganismo ne estas nur dieto, ĝi estas pozicio etika. Ni komprenas, ke la sufero besta estas tiel vera kiel homa sufero. Tial ni provas eviti ĝin kiam eble. Ni komprenas, ekzemple, ke iuj sciencaj esploroj bezonas bestan provon, kaj aliaj ne. Ni ankaŭ scias ke, kvankam multaj kultivaĵoj damaĝas bestaron malpli ol brutobredado, agrikulturo devas esti daŭrigebla. Veganismo sen ekologio kaj klaskonscienco estas nur dieto. Ĉu ekzistas etikaj manieroj de preni ovojn? Etikaj manieroj de uzi bestojn por movi kaj labori? Kaj pluvivi ekstremaj situacioj? Ni ne havas ĉiujn respondojn. Ne esperu tion. Mi ankaŭ scias, ke mi ne ŝanĝigas nenion por igi vegana. Do mi ne juĝas. Verdire, mi scias, ke plej homoj ne mortigus porkon se iu petus. Do vi jam estas pli proksime al veganismo ol vi kredas. Kiun veganan manĝaĵon volas vi vidi en felana vegana kuirlibro? Diru al mi bonvolu!

InkBunny

DeviantArt

imgur

[soul-of-themoon]

When you like a person you always want to be by their side, the moments with them become unique and special, every second with them makes me feel good and they don't know how important they are to me, when I met them I thought that it would be a friendship like the others, but after a while I realized that it wasn't, your company became necessary for all my days, you make me happy and you have the best topics and I want to spend every moment of my life by your side and I know I won't regret this❤️‍

You are so beautiful, your eyes are beautiful and bright just like the stars in the sky, your smile is the most beautiful thing it makes me happy and makes me realize how beautiful you are and your hair is wonderful, you are all beautiful and not only physically but also as a person, you are yourself and that delights me a lot and I like you for who you are, your company is one of the best because you make me laugh the most sincerely, your voice calms me and your hug comforts me, every touch of ours is special to me, when I hug you I feel so good, whenever I'm with you I feel comfortable, you let me be myself without judging me and I can say my crazy things to you and you say worse things

You are funny and you make me laugh when I'm at my worst, you heal me just by being with me YOU ARE AMAZING

It's incredible to think that all my problems go away just by talking to you, your joy is contagious, you're not always well and it's normal but I want to be with you at all times, whether good or bad, I'll always be with you.

TRADUÇÃO!!!

Quando você gosta de uma pessoa você quer sempre estar do lado dela, os momentos com ela se tornam únicos e especiais, cada segundo ao lado dela me faz bem e ela não sabe o quanto ela é importante pra mim, quando eu conheci ela eu achei que seria uma amizade como as outras, mas depois de um tempo percebi que não, sua companhia se tornou necessária para todos os meus dias, você me faz feliz e tem os melhores assuntos e quero passar cada momento da minha vida ao seu lado e sei que não irei me arrepender disso❤️‍🩹

Você é tão linda, seus olhos são lindos e brilhantes assim como as estrelas no céu, seu sorriso é a coisa mais linda ele me alegra e me faz perceber o quanto você é linda e seu cabelo é maravilhoso, você toda é linda e não só fisicamente mas como pessoa também, você é você mesma e isso me encanta muito e eu gosto de você por quem você é, sua companhia é uma das melhores pois você me tira as risadas mais sinceras, sua voz me acalma e seu abraço me conforta, cada toque nosso é especial para mim, quando eu te abraço eu me sinto tão bem, sempre que estou com você eu me sinto confortável, você me deixa ser eu mesma sem me julgar e eu posso falar minhas doideiras para você que você fala coisa pior🫶

você é engraçada e me faz rir quando estou nos meu piores momentos, você me cura apenas estando comigo VOCÊ É INCRÍVEL

é incrível pensar que todos os meus problemas vão embora só por falar com você, sua alegria é contagiante, nem sempre você está bem e é normal mas quero estar com você em todos os momentos sejam bons ou ruins eu estarei sempre com você.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 2: Ravaging Intrigue

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex. *Post-Origins movieverse.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word count: 12,000+

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

🚨Warning: Violence, gore, language, mentions of rape, and some feral power play. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.

A Feral Interlude Masterlist

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 2: Ravaging Intrigue

"—you're telling me your dumb shit of a son swiped one of the most advance pieces of technology to date right out of your safe because he wanted you to sign over his trust fund?!" the former colonel bellowed at the disgraced DIA Director slumped in the steel chair across from him.

Reginald DeLaughter curtly nodded, averting his eyes away from the CIA agent who had far too much seniority for his tastes.

"Tell me, Delaughter, can you even fathom just how much shit you've caused because of your inability to: a) Keep your con artist punk of a son in check and b) Safeguard not only one of the most advanced tele-computers, but the batch of top-secret digital documents involving agencies that not even the executive branch knows about?!" the agent rounded the table and gave the man an implacable stare from his one good eye with a scowl.

"I'll have your goddamned badge!" DeLaughter jumped to his feet and inched towards the agent. "My fucking son is dead; didn't know what the fuck he was taking, let alone that he would get killed over it!"

Without flinching, the agent shoved him back into his chair and loomed in his face as he seethed, "That's the problem. Everything on that portable machine you had tossed into a safe instead of secure at the Defense Department like it should've been has hundreds of files," he paused and fixed the man with a cold glare, "each of which involves matters of national security that were compiled through hundreds of missions and contacts. Men and women have died to scrap together this intel, and under your watch, someone now has said information for sale to the highest fucking bid. Do you have any fucking idea how many angles the U.S. can get screwed in because of you?!"

When the man yet again looked away, the agent hauled him up and slammed him against the cement wall. "If it were up to me, an asshole like you would be court marshaled and tossed into a detention cell to rot like any other terrorist bottom feeder," he spoke contumely, adding, "but you're the FBI's problem now. You have a future of obscurity to fall into now, and if anything happens to this country, you shall be judged."

Tossing the man back into the chair, the agent stalked out of the room and headed down to brief his squad. They were on the hunt now for the retrieval of as much of the lost intel they could piece together. The hope was to avert any leaks as well as determine what target had the most to lose. He couldn't wrap his head around just how the spy knew about the computer, let alone about the asshole's son stealing it and running off to Vegas with it.

The world was a dark place outside of America. Nick could only imagine who wanted the information and what they intended to do with it. Most of those files had no backups. Going digital was supposed to be the ultimate safety precaution, but of course even that wasn't fail proof. It was damage control time.

With renewed fears brimming inside of him, he marched down and took the elevator down to the sub-levels of the Pentagon, ready to tackle the tyranny looming in the shadows.

                      _____________________________________

Her Chanel heels clicked mutely across the polished floors of the consulate's lobby as she crossed the stairs and headed for the bank of conference rooms that required three forms of ID to access. Showing her counterfeit credentials to the guard, she passed through security and headed down the long and opulently decorated hall for the conference suite.

Knocking on the door with the back of her knuckles, she waited until the door clicked automatically open and allowed her entrance.

"Mademoiselle Montecristo," the man with the thick French accent and Armani suit greeted as he rose from the lacquered table by the window, crossing the room to take her hand and kiss the back of it. "Thank you for being so prompt. Please," he gestured her into the room and pulled the chair out for her.

"I trust your superior has gained the information he needed from the machine, Monsieur Basset?" she spoke, getting right to business as she stared at the man across her through her tinted glasses.

Clearing his throat, the man reached for a folder and slid it towards her. "My employer would like to contract you for another venture," he announced as she flipped through the file, scanning the information. "We would pay you the same sum as before—"

"This is a counter-insurgency job. My quote is double the sum," she interrupted, gazing stoically at him while she drummed her red-painted talons over the picture of the target.

"Mademoiselle—I would have to confer with my employer…"

"If the French government wishes to eliminate targets cheaply, they have agents for that. I was told your employer wasn't directly affiliated with the regime," she countered smoothly, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

"He is not. But this mission would involve more than eliminating the target. We need to find direct ties to him and Khomeini. It will help the French government, and ensure my employer's future ventures in Iran aren't jeopardized by any...extremism," he stated and sat back stiffly in his leather-backed chair.

Her camouflaged nails halted in their drumming as she stared keenly at the man. "Information isn't cheap; neither is assassination. When your employer agrees, you will wire the documents to the same bank as before along with a French bond to cover the deposit," she announced curtly, her eyes cool behind the amber-tinted frames that obscured the eerie russet ring around her pupils.

"Understood, mademoiselle," the man gulped and tried to remain composed under her predatory gaze.

Standing, she politely shook his hand and headed for the door, before a rogue thought made her pause. "Ah, monsieur. Did your employer dispose of the machine?" she turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.

"Oui…vendu sur le marché noir," he replied cautiously.

"Ah, bon," and with that, she exited the room and headed down to the crisp November air of the nation's capital. There was no question that she'd have the job by the end of the day, so she decided to dedicate the rest of the early afternoon to shopping in D.C.

She had completed the job from Vegas the week before and had received her fee, which had been wired to her account in the Cayman Islands. The only reason she had taken the job was to create distance as well as call the Frenchman's bluff. He had folded earlier than she'd expected, so she had been forced to cancel the espionage job at the last minute in order to head to Washington.

Tommy DeLaughter had been puddy in her hands. All it took were a few touches of rapture and he had adoringly broken into his father's safe and taken the portable computer out. He'd even written the blackmail letter under her alluring gaze, suggesting what to write in murmurs that forced him to cling to her every word. Once done, she'd taken him to Las Vegas like an overgrown puppy, keeping the rapture active with a few caresses before sending him to book the high roller's suite with his father's card while she went to the Stardust to crash the conference. She had calculated that his body wouldn't be found until the next morning, either by housekeeping or the FBI. She had been right, but she hadn't anticipated getting ensnared in an encounter, let alone one so…

Sighing, she brooded and stalked out of the car as soon as the chauffer pulled it open for her. Dismissing him for the rest of the day, she strode out and busied herself with idle shopping at all the designer boutiques, absently ignoring the chill while her mind continued to wander.

He'd caught her fancy. Even now, his check was tucked into her vintage Chanel purse—the urge to fish it out and inhale his musky scent an unruly impulse she managed to suppress. She figured he wouldn't make a move until he had sufficient background info on her, which she also figured was the reason that a week had gone by with no reprisal.

The Sabertooth is on the prowl…

She was sure he wouldn't find much, but she wasn't sure if she should take solace in that or not. Centuries of practice and the ravages of time were two of her advantages—ensuring little remained of her origins. If anything did remain, it wasn't anything sufficient enough to pose her great harm. Besides, Creed didn't even bother to learn her name, a funny thought to her now that she headed towards the bank. The man was a tempest, made up of keen brawn and cunning, but thinking ahead didn't seem to be one of his strong suits—or at least nothing he seemed to worry about. She assumed he wasn't accustomed to letting his prey survive an interlude with him, if they even stayed alive long enough through the encounter, that is. Being mindful of things like his prey's name was a frivolous expectation to have of him, which somehow added to his charms. His intelligence hidden under the rouse of brute indifference had made an impression on her; it was only a matter of time.

He'd most likely get as far as Berlin, which was really the only time she'd left a trail she couldn't account for. Thinking back on that time always brought to surface memories she didn't care for. Sometimes the images haunted her for hours before her mind found something else to anchor to. She'd submerge them, shoving them away into the muddy recesses of her mind until the next spark of light revealed them in the darkness. The biting wind roused her to the soft snowflakes that began to waft down from the graying sky.

She didn't know what his means were, but knew he was resourceful enough to get the answers he wanted one way or another. Anticipation hummed in her mind; being the mouse meant she wouldn't know when the cat was near until he pounced.

As she walked into the sprawling bank lobby out of the cold, she submerged her idle excitement and keyed in to find the delivery had been made. Smiling, she made arrangements for a courier to transport her things to the West coast before depositing some collateral into the state of the art vault. She was amused the Frenchman took her for an ignorant fool. Of course she didn't expect him to tell the truth, but selling a telecommunication innovation on the black market?

Whenever she wondered if she took too many precautions, arrogant bastards like the Frenchman always set her at ease. Well, most of the time they did.

Sighing to herself, she went back out into the cold afternoon—absolutely resolute on taking a vacation once this job was over so she could properly focus on being pursued.

                      _____________________________________

The pop of kindling blistering in the fireplace snapped Dan out of his doze, dropping the book from the crook of his arm to thud on the carpet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Twilight had passed hours ago in the winter countryside his cozy cottage resided in. Grunting, he got up from the leather chair and picked up the book before stretching and popping his back.

Grumbling to himself, he shuffled lethargically into his study to return the book to its assigned slot among the thousands of other books that lined his walls from floor to ceiling. The light from the fireplace in the living room shone into his study before it was dimmed faintly by the shadow that emerged in the doorway.

"S'been a while, eh Danny-boy?"

"JESUS CHRIST!" Dan Dresner whirled at the voice and practically stumbled back over one of the stacks of books that littered the floor. The predatory chuckle sent a chill down his spine before his mind could recognize its owner. "C-Creed—W-What're you doing here?! Trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!" he stuttered, trying hard to lower his voice back to his gravelly tenor instead of the nasal octave it had risen to.

Smirking subtly, Victor prowled into the dimly lit room, fingers skimming idly along the book spines that lined the wall as he invaded the shorter man's space, not bothering to brush the melting snow off his coat shoulders. "Now is that anyway to greet a smiling old face from your past, Dan?" he mocked deviously, his cool blue eyes implacable while the smile expanded to flash his wicked canines. "I gotta say," he added as he glanced around the room with derisive intrigue, "not too shabby a place you got here. It ain't your style—being holed up so far out in the country."

Raking his fingers in his eye-length mop of dirty brown hair, Dan tried to smile at the man, but his lips only managed a twitch. "Trying to stay out of trouble. Easiest way to do that is to stay lost," he answered and glanced at his desk drawer, where his revolver was snugly hidden.

Victor followed his glance and sneered a grin. "You wouldn't even finish blinking, Dan, so don't be rude," he growled patronizingly and enjoyed the flinch that coursed through the tacto-empath. "I've come to call in a favor," he announced as he crossed over to the liquor cabinet nestled in the corner by his desk.

Dan watched as the feral helped himself to his bottle of scotch. "I didn't know I owed any favors," he muttered absently and immediately regretted it.

Victor's chuckle heralded his regret. "Oh I beg to differ. You could've ended up like every other fuck-stick associate of mine after the Island. Did you really think you got away alive without someone keeping you around for later?" he stated with a sinister edge as he regarded the man over the rim of the glass he took a long sip from.

"What do you want?" Dan queried, his throat tight with terror and looking like a much older Irish-blooded rogue as he realized what Victor was saying.

Finishing his drink, Victor helped himself to another and leaned against the edge of the desk. "I know you were Stryker's dutiful information source. I need you to get me background info on a…target of mine," he stated, the command irrefutable in his tone.

"I don't know what Stryker told you," he attempted, but paused when Victor's cold eyes hardened savagely. "I-I'd need access to databases that are long gone now. The closest thing would be getting access to Department H's resources, and we both know how shit out of luck that venture is," he stated his case in a quick rush, trying to abate his fear since he knew Creed fed off of it.

"What's this 'we' business?" Victor barked and plopped the empty glass down on the desk as he pushed off the edge to stalk towards Dan. The man backed up against the corner shelf, thumping against the books when Victor continued, "I don't care how the hell you get the information. It isn't my fucking problem, but if you're going to keep dicking around with me then it will be a problem—for you," he snarled, pointing his index claw into the man's chest so he could watch it lengthen dangerously to prick through his sweater. "Stryker isn't around to coddle you, Danny-boy, and trust me," he growled and inched closer to bare his teeth, "I'm not the coddling type."

Victor knew he wasn't lying, but he wasn't going to take any fucking excuse. Dan might've not been a direct teammate, but he wasn't a full labcoat. The man had joined the project under the niche of intelligence liaison, which afforded him direct access to the facility's resources and Stryker's protection. He figured staying behind the scenes was his smartest bet, so he only worked for and answered strictly to Stryker.

Unfortunately for Danny-boy, Victor knew why the mutant larcenist had joined the project, and it was strictly for self-preservation's sake. Stryker had kept him tucked in his pocket because he followed orders and never stepped out of line, as well as because he was a figurative fountain of knowledge; knowledge he gained through touch. Dan was a walking talking library of information fit for only his former superior's unscrupulous scheming. So, there was little clearance given to anyone but the colonel—that is until Victor started doing Stryker's insidious dirty work. He knew the extent of the man's mutation and had gotten the details of how he'd ended up mixed up with the former colonel, which was a similar circumstance to how Victor and Jimmy had joined the team.

"W-What's this target's name? Who do they work for?" Dan conceded and sputtered, his anxiety so strong that Victor wrinkled his nose at the scent.

Backing down the intimidation factor, Victor strode casually towards the desk and allowed the man to exhale his relief. "Montecristo. Dunno anything else about her; s'why I'm telling you to find out for me," he spoke, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he leaned against the desk. He watched the man's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "What?" he snapped, his mouth taking on a scowl.

"I thought you were done hunting other mutants, with the Island going down and all—"

"Who said I'm done hunting mutants, Dan? What do you think this will be if you don't do as you're told," Victor cut in, the blistering threat edged into his tone. "And who said she was a mutant?"

"I-I only mean—it isn't typical for you to be hunting down some broad, so I figured she had to be mutant is all," Dan stammered, edging towards the closest cluttered table for a stray pad and pen. "Montecristo…like the book?" he asked and glanced over at the massive feral dressed in black.

He grunted and raised a brow, cocking his head to eye the tacto-empath. "What book?" he asked gruffly.

"The Count of Monte Cristo. Famous novel by the same guy who wrote The Three Musketeers?" Dan offered and crouched down next to several piles of books stacked by the lamp he turned on. Fishing for a few moments, he found what he was looking for and stood. "The only time I've ever heard the name—Monte Cristo. It's an Italian islet; means "the mountain of Christ". It isn't a common last name, but there's a brand of Cuban cigars named Montecristo," he explained and handed Victor the heavy book.

Looking at the dusty cover and reading the engraved title, Victor grunted and tossed it onto the desk. "Do I care to know what it's about?" he asked with a cautionary grumble to his voice.

Tensely, Dan sat down on a footstool and shrugged. "Might give you a clue about who this chick is?" he tentatively remarked, and to Victor's noncommittal grunt, he continued, "The protagonist is a guy who gets royally screwed. Takes place throughout Europe in the early 19th century and Napoleon's exile from Paris is the background of the plot…" Dan highlights several important elements of the plot while Victor patiently listens, his expression unreadable but etched in the ferocity that characterizes him. "…Dantès becomes the Count of Monte Cristo and lures all the people who betrayed him into traps where they all meet their destructions, revealing his identity to them once his revenge upon them is completed. It's twisted and revenge-driven, with a few moral allegories in it, but the revenge is the strongest element in the book—!"

"What happens to Monte Cristo?" Victor interrupted, resting his hands along the edge of the desk.

Dan gulped at the sight of his wicked claws fanning out over the beaten wood, answering, "Dumas wrote it so we assume he and Haydée go off together, but the important part of the ending is that while revenge had fueled Dantès, he found peace once he recovered his humanity. As Monte Cristo, he had disconnected himself from humanity and given himself to revenge, but once he allowed himself to forgive he became Dantès again—recovering his humanity…it's all about realizing God's Providence and the importance of waiting and hoping that he'll intervene in the world; punishing the bad and rewarding the good," he paused when Victor's brow furrowed.

—What's the point of living like an animal to begin with? Her voice echoed in his mind, triggered by the juxtaposition of humanity and revenge Dan rambled on about. She'd been talking about taking what was willingly given and the uselessness of it—the pointlessness of taking if there hadn't been a struggle to live, and when taking pride in her struggling prey meant she was in control.

"I'll be checking in with you by the end of the week, so you better have more than a Lit. lecture for me when I do," Victor announced and pushed off the desk, stalking to the door.

"Creed wait!" Victor turned and glanced sharply at him over his shoulder. "I'm going to need more details than just her name. What she look like? Any scars? Or a picture?" the tacto-empath interrogated as cautiously as he could with the feral man eyeing him so harshly.

"If I had a picture don't you think I'd given it to you, jackass?" Victor berated, turning slightly to add, "She's a reptilian-based feral. Doesn't look like a lizard, but she has palm green eyes with a coppery ring around her pupils, retractable incisors and fangs that reminded me of an alligator's, and black talon-like nails that can tear into shit just as good as mine. Her skin shimmers different tones and she emits different types of pheromones she can only transfer through touch," he paused and remembered the shadow of a scar etched close to her womb. "She said she was older than me…dunno how much older. Also said her specialty was espionage, but she's skilled in killing," Victor added instead, figuring the scar wasn't prominent enough to turn up on the type of search the man would be undertaking.

Dan wrote everything down in a coded language only he could understand, which was just as fine since Victor expected the fucker to report verbatim for him. "I'll get right on this," the man murmured and stood, hoping Victor would leave like he came.

"You better. Don't make me regret keeping you alive this long, Danny-boy," he quipped sadistically and smirked, throwing a wave of departure over his shoulder as he walked out of the study.

Dan heard his footfalls course through the house before the door slammed shut. Slumping down to the footstool, he shivered, and not from the burst of cold air that had invaded his house from Victor's departure. He knew the fucking animal would be the death of him; sensed it without having to touch anyone to read the writing that was on the wall. As soon as Stryker started finalizing project Deadpool and word got around about James Logan going on a killing spree looking for Stryker and Creed, Dan had gotten the fuck off of the Island and headed north. Not too soon, considering he heard about the devastation on the news a few days later. He'd also heard most of the lab staff and all the test subjects had perished or vanished in the destruction, with a few rumors about Stryker, Logan, and Creed getting away floating around in the aftermath.

With Victor confirming as much, he knew he was fucked if he didn't comply with the brutal feral's demands. Dan knew there was nowhere to hide. Creed would track him down, probably enjoy torturing him to the edge of death before bringing him back and starting from scratch. Resigned to his fate, Dan prepared to revert back to his nefarious trade from before he was a mutant operative, except instead of identity theft and white-collar crime he would be invading for knowledge for the sake of his own well-being.

Shit…wouldn't dear ol' Ma be proud…

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"—when can I expect him to be eliminated?...Bon. See that the documents not get out until after he's dead. Has she asked again?...she isn't a fool Basset. See that l'information trickles to the right parties. It would be preferable if she be éliminé simultanément. Je veux qu'il ressemble à un mauvais allé par incursion…Oui, as soon as the news breaks and the deal is assured, come back to headquarters…Très bien. Maintenez-moi signalé," he hung up the rerouted line and headed away from the bank of pay phones, making his way out of the platform up to the surface of the sprawling train station. His chauffer was waiting at the curb for him, opening the door for him to slide into the back of the opulent Rolls-Royce. The swarthy Parisian businessman stared placidly out of the window, allowing his thoughts to untangle.

That fucking femme fatale thought she could get one over on him? It was laughable. Her smug ignorance would be her undoing.

Armand de Lioncourt was not a man to be trifled with.

He hadn't built his telecommunication empire because he was an imbécile. Like any other entrepreneur, he had paved his way on the backs of others, most of whom were ash under his Italian leather loafers—with their innovations becoming Armand's intellectual property. Nothing would stand in his way; not Khomeini, not the meddling U.S. government, and certainly not some mutant femme too arrogant for her own good. When his head technician told him the tele-computer showed signs of driver duplication, Armand had fumed, ordering the man to extract the information and proceed with his research. He couldn't afford having the woman possess delicate evidence of his criminality, especially when the computer had confidential intelligence of one of his Middle Eastern subsidiaries that would lead to a direct connection between him and Iran for the authorities to trace.

Everything was a delicate process. The theft, murder, and concealment of said dealings were of optimum importance. Basset new that, so when he told him the woman had asked about the computer, Armand knew it was a silent gloat; I have you in my pocket, Frenchman.

She had come highly recommended from a Russian cohort, attesting to her skills but unable to shed any light on her mutant prowess. Truth was, she was so good at what she did that no one lived to reveal just what her talents were. Those who did live never knew what happened to them. The rumor was, she had some form of hypnosis—ensnaring her victims so completely that they handed over information and even walked off balconies they were so utterly devoted. No one had any knowledge of her age or the level of her mutation. Hell, no one even knew where she'd emerged from; most background checks hit a wall at three decades ago, leaving many clients to speculate on just who or what the fierce woman was.

Regardless, as soon as she and Nagarajah were out of the picture, Armand could relax and focus on his future investitures in the fledgling global-telecommunication industry. The computer would be the crowning jewel of his empire, a victory he would flaunt in the world's face. With any luck, the raid would be so precisely messy that agencies would be pointing the finger at each other for months, allowing him to coax the right people into action and solidify the next phase of operations: gaining a foothold in the Middle East before the Americans did.

Smiling pleasantly at nothing in particular outside his window, Armand headed for his meeting in Paris' financial sector, assured that by the week's end he'd be known the world over as Armand de Lioncourt, and not just the Frenchman.

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He was going to unscrew Dan's head off his fucking shoulders. The fucker had ordered him to come down to this library, refusing to wait for Victor at his place out in the countryside. At first the nerve of it had astounded the ruthless feral, but the indignant fury that followed had made him hungry for mayhem. No one had talked to him like that. Not even that motherfucking bastard Stryker! He was still reeling from the bristling rage as he stalked through the massive public library, hunting the tacto-empath down through the tall and robust stacks and wings that reminded him of a dusty mildewed-smelling maze.

"Goddammit Creed, you're not going to harass me in my own fucking house! Either meet me at the library or do your worst. Nothing you could do scares me enough to fuck with these people!" Dan had seethed from a combination of trepidation and reckless bravado before hanging up on Victor.

He had called the Irish mutt to let him know he was coming so he'd have his wits about him and got an earful instead. But under the other mutant's mouthy audacity Victor had sensed his hysterical fear. It was that sharp scent that he was tracking now as he rounded a quiet cluster of stacks and study lounges that allowed for more isolated privacy from the rest of the tomb-like library.

Barging into a study room tucked into a poorly lit corner, Victor slammed the door behind him and narrowed his eyes at the man who jumped out of his chair and pressed up against the wall. He was clutching several notepads to his chest and staring at the larger mutant with terror, looking like a disheveled conspiracy nutcase.

"Who the fuck do you think you are," Victor seethed through his bared teeth and slowly advanced around the table towards him. "Did you think by making me come here that I wouldn't gut you and splash this whole fucking library with your entrails, you goddamned fuckwit!? You better start talking before I crack your fucking head open and see if you've really got a brain in there!" Victor hissed and cornered Dan who'd backed into the wall and stammered up at him.

"J-Jesus Creed calm down I-I didn't mean any fucking disrespect I just couldn't stay at my place—c'mon I'm scared shitless already just give me a fucking chance to explain before you go berserk on me!" Dan sputtered and held up his notes as he pleaded his case.

"You're tone's all fucking wrong, Danny-boy. Get it together before I pull you the fuck apart!" Victor snarled in the man's face and loomed imposingly over him.

"S-Sorry—I'm sorry," he inhaled shakily and lowered his gaze submissively. "This shit you got me looking into is really heavy, Creed. You didn't tell me this woman had so many strings attached to her," he babbled and inched away from Victor to grab a stack of papers strewn out over the table.

Raising an eyebrow, Victor watched him collect his notes and lay them out in some unique order that only he comprehended. "Start making sense, Dan. You're tap-dancing on my fucking last nerve!" he snapped and yanked a chair out to sit across from the skittish tacto-empath.

"Okay, okay," he murmured conciliatorily and pushed his hands through his hair before staring at Victor. "For days I couldn't find a goddamned thing on this broad. I ended up breaking into a government installation just west of here, and still the only intel I got on her was a blip in South America. Seems she was a rumored operative for Pinochet in '73, and since the U.S. had backed the military junta, they have a really flimsy file on her," Dan explained as he sifted through some files and found a page. "This is the only picture I've found," he slid the black and white snapshot towards Victor, who snatched it up and stared at it as Dan continued, "all they know is that she's strictly freelance and not affiliated to any regime or any special ops. She has absolutely no allegiances and that's what was on file…up until two days ago."

Glancing at Dan, Victor tossed the blurry picture of Montecristo entering a military-occupied headquarters into the mess of papers on the table. "Quit the suspense bullshit and get to the fucking point," he growled at Dan and fixed him with a glare.

Unflustered by Victor's impatience, Dan pressed on, "I heard through the covert grapevine that a tip came from D.C. naming this jackoff Malik Nagaraja as a co-conspirator of Ruhollah Khomeini, some theocratic extremist exiled from Tehran. Rumor is Nagaraja is orchestrating some sort of coup that will get Khomeini into power and royally fuck everyone else doing business in Iran. If these guys get their way, Iran will revert to conservative theocratic power. Khomeini and Nagaraja are working this from the outside; the first is in Paris and the other is here in the states. Nagaraja got put on the most wanted list at three government covert agencies and Khomeini is under surveillance by the French…but what's going under the radar is that a person of interest linked to Nagaraja is your target."

Victor's shoulders straightened at the last part. "What's the order?" he asked coolly.

"Order is to secure her and Nagaraja to be taken to some hush-hush unit in Washington. This is black ops shit. A special outfit put together to be under the command of an intermediary representing the three agencies. The brass has no idea how she's involved, but they know enough about her to go in with lots of gear. This is all top-secret, so you're probably wondering how I found out about all of this," Dan attempted with a tentative glance towards Victor.

"Oh, enlighten me," Victor grumbled humorlessly.

Leaning over the table as if to impart something sacred, Dan announced, "All of this is a smoke screen. The word is Washington's getting played big time and no one's the wiser because they're following the wrong trail. Some big shot in Europe set this all up to create a domino effect. Montecristo was hired by this guy to kill Nagaraja and get a smoking gun linking him to Khomeini, but for some reason he decided to throw her to the wolves too. Whatever the reason, he's setting it up for her and Nagaraja to get taken out by this black ops outfit. It's probably in order to deflect attention from something else, but there's a huge problem he didn't count on…"

"I swear to fucking Christ, Dan—!" Victor growled in exasperation before Dan continued.

"She can't be taken out," he cut in quickly. "The file I got on her is shit, but it helped me track down other leads," he explained as he pointed down at his coded notes. "She's been involved in half of the skirmishes throughout South and Central America in the last two decades. The junta's know of her, the guerrillas know her, and none of them fucks with her. She's worked both sides, depending on which suited her interests at the time, and she falls off the radar until something else comes up. Because of her vicious reputation, she earned the codename La Vibora," he paused when Victor seemed to perk up, if his gaze intensifying and his jaw clenching with intrigue could be called 'perking up', "it loosely translates to 'the Vipress'."

The image of her lips tightening and her expression smoothening after he called her viper the first time stood out to him and caused a wry smile to creep across his lips. Dan looked at him nervously. Victor snickered to himself. "It fits," was all he confided to the other man as he leaned back against his chair. "Beyond her busy work life, what else has the little viper been up to," he mused, pursing his lips wryly at the weary stare Dan gave him before he plopped down into his own chair.

"That's just it, Creed. There is no record of Montecristo before 1950. She's a ghost; hasn't ever left a trail, other than the few tidbits I scrapped together. This unit in D.C. is what I'm worried about; there's talk in the underground that they're organizing some bureau that'll round up mutants, nothing like what Stryker was doing," he paused as he tossed his scribbled pad onto the table. "It's all one big set up, though. They don't know about this other guy, and he thinks they're going to do him a favor. He's got some flunky setting it all up in D.C., which is how I found part of this stuff out. The guy—Basset—talked to a buddy of mine about getting help disappearing with a huge trunk of secrets, so to speak. Little does he know him and his boss will probably find themselves strung up by their heels and gutted like slaughtered pigs…which is supposedly one of Montecristo's calling cards. This chick is no joke—!"

"I want you to keep digging," Victor cut in, as irrefutable as before.

"Are you shitting me?" Dan balked at him. "After all the shit I just told you you're still going to go after her?"

"That's just the thing," he growled and crossed his arms, "you haven't told me much of anything, you dumb fuck! Just a bunch of hyperboles and spook-talk. It's only made me more curious. I want to know everything about her," since she's worked so hard to bury it all, "like for starters, what the fuck's her first name?"

Dan sat back in his chair and rubbed his temple. "I thought you didn't bother with such trivialities, especially when a broad's involved," he muttered bemusedly.

Glaring at the weary mutant, Victor rumbled snidely, "Have you ever been skull-fucked by a fist, Danny-boy?"

Stiffening with fear, he stammered, "N-No—!"

"Then this'll be your first time if you don't watch your fucking mouth," he snapped. "What the fuck is her name?"

Dan gulped before telling him flatly.

Victor repeated it to himself, as if testing it out while he recalled her in his mind's eye. Mental snapshots of her devouring that DeLaughter kid, lying sprawled out on her side before him—wrapped in his arms and pressed taut against him, her eyes hooded but preternaturally glowing up into his under the light. Her name as well as everything else Dan found fit her.

"The intel you get enough for a profile?" he inquired as he lazily cleaned under his claws with his car key before extending all five nails of his right hand up to the light.

He smelled the apprehension saturate Dan's scent as the man tentatively spoke, "She's suited to hostile environments with severely high temperatures. Probably has a voracious metabolic system, but is most likely a poikilotherm—which would force her to avoid certain frigid environments or seek a heat source, regardless of her fast metabolism. She probably has an abnormally high regenerative trait as well as an age suppression factor…that's about all I can think up—"

"I expected a helluva lot more than that," Victor snapped, his expression surly as he leaned forward in the chair. "I'm starting to think I was wrong about you Danny-boy. I don't like being wrong. If I am ever wrong, I rectify things until I don't care about being wrong," his lip curled back in a slow and nasty grin as he added, "usually, that means stringing the problem up and peeling the flesh off of it until it's a tangle of bloody screams and tendons. So tell me, was I wrong to count on you, Dan?"

The blood drained from Dan's face while his hazel eyes went wide with horror. "N-NO! Of course not! You know I'm good for it—just give me a couple of days and I swear by that time I'll have everything on her there is! By the time I'm done you'll know everything from her favorite movie to her cup size," Dan assured in a gush of words, sitting stiffly and trying not to make any sudden movement as if he sat across from a starving mountain lion.

Victor snickered sardonically, musing privately that he damn well already knew her cup size: a large C. He guesstimated as much from how full her perky tits had been cupped in his massive hands. He submerged the leering smile as he shoved his raunchy memories away to fix Dan with a sly look.

"Keep digging, and get back to that country shack of yours. I'll be checking in for more dirt, and you better have a lot more for me when I do," he stated gruffly and stood. Bewildered, Dan nodded and began collecting his notepads. Victor turned to stride out the door, but suddenly whirled around and prowled down around Dan, slamming a huge hand with lengthened claws down on the collection of papers the tacto-empath was about to gather up. Stiffening, Dan balked in terror at the feral when he inched nose to nose with him and snarled, "Oh, and the next time you ever cross me, or get insolent with me again, you'll fucking wish you were dissected and under a microscope somewhere, cuz that'll be a fucking reprieve from just how fucking berserk I can get. You fucking understand?!"

The breath wheezed out of Dan's throat when he attempted a response, his fear spiking when he thought his inability to respond would get him gutted. Instead, Victor took his petrified expression as his response, smiling mildly and patting him on the shoulder roughly before resuming his exit out of the room. Still racked with panic, the tacto-empath went about doing as he was told, too scared shitless to even think about doing otherwise.

Stalking through the library, Victor descended the wide staircase across from a sitting area in the main hall before passing the librarian's unoccupied desk, his mind preoccupied.

He was amused that the lofty bitch was getting set up, but couldn't help find commonalities between her situation and his own. It reminded him of Lagos. That one fucking assignment had changed everything, tearing things asunder between his brotherhood and his thirst for carnage. Before Victor knew it, he had become Stryker's pawn; his fucking hellhound at his every beck and call. Becoming the Sabertooth wasn't something he could completely blame on Stryker—no matter how much the beast told him so—but the manipulation had widened the fissure between him and his brother, and Victor would have to live with it, rescind to the rage and betrayal he held towards Jimmy instead of the nagging conscience that blamed otherwise. He submerged it like everything else that didn't matter anymore. That gnawing curiosity of his would always pester him, however, which is what got him involved in this cat and mouse game to begin with. He wondered if Montecristo had become a pawn unknowingly or had rescinded herself to it like he had. Whether Dan's fears were warranted or not didn't matter to him. He still owed the 'Vipress' for the humiliation and nothing was going to stand in his way, especially not some covert human bullshit.

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It was snowing outside, the night sky turbulent and heavy with wintery gloom. She absolutely hated snow. It made her feel claustrophobic and weak, desperate for any form of warmth in which to take shelter in. Whipping her wet hair back, she let the preternatural locks air dry while she laid out her gown on the bed. She turned towards the vanity to pick up the teardrop necklace and faced the full length mirror. Fiddling with the clasp, she stared blankly at her reflection, taking in her nudity with idle practice. The overhead light caught the shimmer of her skin, which was reflected in the mirror.

Goddamned artificial light. It'd been a pain in the ass since it became the new advent of the 20th century. Candlelight had always been too faint to reveal her physical mutation, so she'd never had to worry about someone catching the shimmer of her skin until electricity and artificial light became the mainstream.

Securing the necklace, she eyed herself and went about brushing her unruly straight hair. It had a tendency of cascading without any wave or kink according to how it was rooted to her scalp, making it an aggravation to deal with. Leaving it loose was out of the question for the event, so she had to tame it into an upward twist, causing it to fan out like silky tendrils down their fastening at the back of her head and for the usual rogue strands to escape and dangle from her temples down to her clavicle.

Huffing at herself in the mirror, she punished her hair with a can of hairspray, hell bent on having it stay in its configuration for as long as possible before it unfurled and snapped free of its styled bondage. For the hundredth time she thought about hacking it all off, but was again reminded that even if she did it would instantly grow back, just like a lizard that loses its tale immediately grows a new one. Sighing, she moved on to applying her makeup before inspecting herself in the full-length mirror again. Her hourglass shape never betrayed the strength and savagery that hid inside of it, which made her the perfect agent for the kind of work she'd been doing for centuries. No one ever suspected her of being anything more than a beautiful gold digger, at best. It suited her intentions just fine, but every once in a while she wondered if things for her could've been different.

The shadow of the scar etched close to her womb always made her think of him. All the possibilities that slipped out of her fingers when—

She stared blankly at her reflection when a triggered memory flashed vividly into her mind's eye. Staring into the mirror, the memory played out for her in the reflection. Her hand lingered over her flat belly as she cocked her head to the side and pensively stared at her reflection. He had come up behind her, snaking his massive hand around her waist to rest over her navel as he swept her hair out of the way in order to murmur something in her ear. His pale skin clashed with hers, but seemed to radiate a heat harnessed by his blood and flesh, all of which he'd pressed cheekily against her before gazing at her through the mirror. She saw his glacier blue eyes staring back at her with the joie de vivre glint in them that unnerved everyone else, especially when accompanied by the roguish smirk he flashed at her before he ducked down to nuzzle her neck.

She didn't feel the heat of his skin; couldn't remember what it felt like nor recall the gravitation she had once felt when he held her possessively and teased her with his steely voice. The memory being reflected back at her began to fade, and no matter how much she willed it to last, it flashed away, the only image lingering briefly was his temple brushing hers and his blond hair dangling out of place when he muttered something and smiled.

Only the words remained, ghosts in of themselves to her hollowed out memories. Izzie…Make your pick: Sigyn, Idunn, or just Valkyrie. Whichever you are matters not because you are only mine.

Staring at her present reflection, cold and alone, she still remembered what she had responded coyly over 30 years ago.

"Just because you fancy yourself to be Loki doesn't mean you can sway another immortal, Eirik…"

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Like most conservative practicing Muslim men, Malik Nagaraja was a boorish, misogynistic, and horny skirt chaser with an affinity for exotic models and a penchant for liquor. Currently, she was providing both as she laughed softly at his cheap jokes and toasted to the night. The sprawling ballroom was packed with elite guests from all walks of life, many of which owed each other favors or came to ask for them over champagne, hors d'oeuvres and snobbery. Along with the gala guests were a slew of armed bodyguards tucked in and around the atmosphere, precluding her from simply snapping the man's neck and getting it all over with. All she had to do was tempt him into touching her bare skin, and then he would beg her to go back to his suite in the hotel. Basset had received the proof linking him to Khomeini, so all that was left was to kill him and disappear.

Meanwhile, a waiter clearing a table of empty champagne bottles took the opportunity to speak into the microphone concealed in his shirt cuff, confirming the presence of the Vipress and Nagaraja. He went ahead with his cover and went unnoticed, ducking out of sight to play eagle eye for the outfit waiting to pounce in the interior stairwell of the building.

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It hadn't been hard to track Nagaraja, especially when his name was listed as a guest to the new hotel's penthouse ballroom. Security was tight and so was the guest list from the looks of it. With all the bodyguards decked out head to toe in black, Victor figured he blended in just nicely. He figured the opportunity was too good to pass up, even if he was going in half-cocked. There was no question that some sort of ravaging intrigue had possessed him at the idea of cornering her in a room; watching her aghast expression blaze her gorgeous face before her scent betrayed her to him. The short term was what mattered at the moment, so he didn't think too long on the impulse, and now here he was, prowling a gala. He breezed through the bustling main hall, avoiding the blue bloods and pompous dicketry of the scene in search for who he assumed would also be attending the formal social event.

The smells of colognes and perfumes mingled together with the scents of alcohol, starch, and tension that hung in the air. His keen nose wasn't picking up the desired scent, so he crossed the hall to enter the main ballroom. The sumptuous art-deco designs were illuminated by a massive crystal chandelier that had the marble floor gleaming with light that poured down from the ceiling. Tables topped with expensive linen cloths and china darted the ballroom, leaving a wide space in the middle and by the snowed in veranda doors and windows for people to dance and mingle.

He really hated theses fucking things. He could smell the stink of old impotent men and fat bitch women as they got sloshed all around him, the carrying on of the rich and the corrupt a pointless spectacle he was tempted to bring to a screeching halt by gutting or twisting someone's head off for the hell of it. The image of carnage sending people into hysteria made a wry smile quirk his lips.

A waiter scooted past him, but not before Victor snatched a champagne glass off his tray and guzzled it quickly as his eyes scanned the huge room. Loping over to the bar, he glanced around before his eyes honed in on a woman in a backless gold dress socializing with an arab-looking asshole. Watching them, he gestured for the garçon to top him off, not even bothering to give him a look when he hesitated at the sight of his retracted claws. He watched as the woman laughed and her profile came into his view. There's the little viper.

Leaving his empty glass at the bar, Victor strolled casually over—picking up another full glass of bubbly as he went—and getting the tail end of their conversation when he came nearer.

"—would like very much to see your portfolio. I know an associate of mine is looking for fresh new talent," the man offered smugly.

"A diplomatic figure as yourself? I wouldn't dream of imposing," she flirted and sashayed closer to him, giving the man a better look at her supple cleavage in the Gucci grecian-styled gown. Victor saw the hunger in the bastard's eyes and—as he anticipated—saw how his hand hesitated at his side, a clear indication he was aching to touch her silky skin. Oh, she planned on using rapture on him to lead him out of the gala, eh? He was savage with smugness as he came up behind them just as the nefarious fuck was about to caress her shoulder in a gesture of wanton intimacy.

She was smiling into the man's dark almond eyes when she felt someone approach out of her line of sight. "Well, fancy seeing you here, Isabela," the gloating purr of a greeting sent a chill up her spine and caused Nagaraja to pause and look peeved at the tall feral before she tensely turned to stare incredulously at him.

Her look was priceless. She looked taken aback, surprised and rancorous once awareness set in that he had interfered in her hunt and was blowing her cover. The idea that he would catch up to her before her mission was complete never even factored into her considerations. She had grossly underestimated him, and the viciously proud look in his crystalline blue eyes antagonized that fact further. Before her mind tangled up in her contingencies and musings on just how Victor Creed had tracked her down so quickly, her heart skipped when she realized he'd referred to her by her Christian name.

"Victor…what a pleasant surprise," she spoke after a few seconds of silence, in which Nagaraja glared back and forth between them. "It's very nice to see you again," she spoke smoothly, her cool mask recovered as she turned to face him fully and took a sip from her glass. His nostrils flared before forcing his sneer into a smirk. No matter how cool she played it, he knew he'd rattled her. Could smell it in her scent. His cock hardened at the pungent shift while he took her in with a leering glance. Her long hair was fastened up with a few long tendrils dangling across her collarbones. The teardrop necklace hung between the swell of her cleavage, which was a mouth-watering sight. All in all, she looked like one of the Greek furies incarnate wrapped up in the gold silk that left him itching to tear it off of her.

"And who are you?" Victor glanced over at the haughty bastard who was glaring him down.

"Oh, do forgive me Mr. Nagaraja, this is—"

"Victor Creed," he cut in before dismissively turning his gaze back to her. "Didn't think we'd run into each other so soon, eh?" his smile was implacably vicious as he ignored further pretense.

"How do you know each other?" Nagaraja interrupted again, his face puckering in sharp disdain.

Jesus you'd think she had his balls in a purse somewhere, Victor mused before interjecting for her, "Isabela and I go way back. You might say I discovered her and took her in all sorts of poses," he chuckled and finished his glass, the raunchy implications causing her to press her lips together and her eyes to hone in furiously on his while Nagaraja looked confused .

"Yes," she hissed softly, "Victor was a photographer I worked with. His work is very good. He might not look it, but he's supposed to be a master in our industry."

The double entendres of their verbal jabs was lost on the supercilious man, who huffed at Victor before glancing at one of his bodyguards. Victor caught the glance, and couldn't help but grin. "You keep praising me like that and I'm liable to blush" he mused surreptitiously. "But I digress. I just came by to say hi, and see if Isabela would like me to shoot more loads in her—"

"Oh Victor, you silly puss," she interjected with a deprecating chuckle, her nostrils flaring in a fronting gesture only the two ferals understood, "we can talk business later. Why don't you go to the bar and accost someone for another drink?" She stepped back into her target's blind spot so he wouldn't see her skin shimmer copper before adding, "I promise you a dance if you mind your manners."

Victor barked a laugh, which caused several heads to turn in their direction, along with the approach of a few stout bodyguards that Nagaraja silently gestured for.

From across the room, the waiter watched the display and simultaneously spoke into his cuff, "Vipress and Nagaraja still present, but there's another bogey on the scene."

"Getting visual confirmation," his earpiece responded as the hidden camera in the frame of his glasses took snapshots of the threesome and the bodyguards that were slowly making their way to them through the crowd. "Fallback, repeat, fallback. Bogey identified to be codename Sabertooth. Tagged as target, be advised, Sabertooth is now a target. Fallback, we're coming in. Over and Out!" Putting his tray down and heading towards the exit, the agent's chance to escape was thwarted when all hell broke loose in the ballroom. He fell dead to the floor along with dozens of others as a flurry of gunfire erupted in the penthouse ballroom.

                      _____________________________________

"If by dance you mean the horizontal mambo, then sure," Victor quipped lasciviously. "Been kicking around the idea of taking the fee you stole out on your sweet ass," he growled and stalked towards her when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder.

"That's enough, 'fella! Now come with us or we'll carry you out," a big brawny bastard with a swarthy face ordered, to which Victor glanced at with sadistic amusement and tossed his champagne glass aside.

"Well, 'fella', if you don't get your hand off me, you won't get it back," Victor hissed and deliberately flashed a fang. Balking at him, the bodyguard hauled his arm back to turn Victor towards him, but when the feral mutant didn't budge, he dug his beefy fingers into his shoulder and tried yanking back again. Snorting, Victor grabbed the guy's thick wrist, snapped and pulled. The sick crunch of bone and tendon snapping and tearing apart was followed by a gush of blood and a shrill howl of agony as the man crumbled to the ground, cradling the stump of his maimed wrist and bleeding out quickly. Laughing sardonically, Victor glared down and around at all the faces that balked at him, waving the bodyguard's hand comically at them before tossing it aside. The beefy and bloody extremity landed in a woman's lap, and a sudden wave of horrified shouts and screams went up as Victor looked over his shoulder at the fuming reptilian feral dressed in gold. She held his gaze with a blistering glare and sneering lips before remembering her objective of the night.

Suddenly, the chorus of screams was heralded in by the multiple clicks of guns and the eruption of raucous gunfire. In the flurry, Victor plowed into a group of bodyguards to his left while Isabela swept like a graceful lizard through a cluster of flunkies before rushing a flurry of blows at them and snatching one of the guns form one of the guard's holster. She emptied the magazine in 10 seconds, shooting at all the guards that were between her and Nagaraja while Victor was painting the surroundings crimson and gory. Meanwhile, the bystanders that were milling out towards the elevators were boxed in by the sudden appearance of armed tactical operatives that swooped into the chaos. Just as Victor tore through a bodyguard and disemboweled another in one swift motion and Isabela tried to get through the flurry by snapping limbs and doubling over men standing between her and her target, a warning shot from a rifle echoed to the ceiling.

Victor and Isabela halted in their advances and snapped around to look at the entrance of the ballroom.

"NOBODY MOVE!" the shouted order came from the black ops commander, followed by the clicks of dozens M16s aimed at anyone still standing in the blood bath. "Malik Nagaraja, Isabela Montecristo, and Victor Creed: You're all being detained under the jurisdiction of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforce—!"

"Yah gotta be fucking kidding me!" Victor hollered and prowled back into his fighting stance while Isabela extended her vicious teeth and snarled seemingly in agreement with him. The operatives hesitated and glanced at each other, not sure how to proceed without just blasting everything in sight. Ironically enough, neither of them initiated the first defiant offensive. Scrambling up in the mess of blood and gore, Nagaraja dove for a gun and started shooting wildly in Victor and Isabela's direction before his bodyguards joined in by shooting away at the special ops team, sending the whole scene back into chaos.

Victor got clipped in the shoulder by a bullet, which forced him to turn from the blow and see Isabela take two bullets to the chest. She wavered on her high heels but barely staggered from the shots. Instead of betraying shock or pain, her expression became murderous as she looked down at the bullet holes that were oozing blood and back at Nagaraja. In a flash, Victor watched as she crouched down and in one deft motion sliced the ankle straps of her heels before leaping right out of them and into the fray, her feral roar nothing he'd ever heard before. Swinging back around, he grinned at the squad commander and started making his way through several men with his extended claws, splashing and spilling them out into puddles of mayhem and carnage that left him bristling with bloodlust.

Isabela felt the bullets push themselves out of her chest just as she ripped a bodyguard's larynx out and commandeered a dead operative's M16, her preternatural hair unfurling and whipping around her. Nagaraja was pinned in a corner behind a mess of strewn chairs and an upturned table. He was huddled like a child behind fours bodyguards who were shooting at the black ops team who were in turn getting gunfire from all directions and having to contend with a berserk Sabertooth drunk on gore. How he hadn't gotten pumped full of lead was beyond her, but she suspended her astonishment long enough to tactfully open fire on a cluster of commandos that had been advancing towards Nagaraja's posse. Just as Victor plunged his hand like a pitchfork into the black ops leader's stomach and up into his ribcage to heft him like a lump of hay into the air, he heard the popping of gunfire intensify behind him as opposed to at his sides. Looking over his shoulder, he tossed the gurgling and convulsing man away like a gutted ragdoll in black fatigues before turning to watch Montecristo take shelter behind a kicked over table. The few stragglers left alive were concentrating their gunfire at her, to which she returned in quick spurts before her rifle clicked empty. Amused, he took his time to crouch down and prowl at the half-dozen men with M16's on all fours, overwhelming them with the intensity of his strikes and the laugh that seemed to bubble just under his growls of effort.

She heard the blood curdling cries and the wayward pop shots just over the gunfire from Nagaraja's men. She looked over the table's edge and watched Creed literally pick apart the tactical team. He was actually grinning from ear to ear, and the dilated look of sadistic glee in his eyes made her heart clench. She'd seen that look before, and she couldn't believe how reminiscent this whole ordeal had suddenly become to her. Shaking her head, she tore her gown for better mobility and pulled her avid gaze away from Creed to get Nagaraja in her crosshairs.

The party was over.

Vaulting with lightning quick agility, Isabela galloped towards the closest wall and leapt onto the vertical surface, making for a stunning sight as she ran the circumference of the room on the walls towards Nagaraja and his goons. All the horrified men could do was balk in terror as she leapt and fell upon them to be torn asunder. She took sadistic license with Nagaraja and sunk her crocodile-like fangs and incisors into his jugular, relishing in his scream before tearing a chunk out of his neck. The man desperately clutched at his throat while she spat the chunk of his flesh to the side and plunged her slender hand into his chest, clutching his heart and crushing it in her grip. The smell of gunpowder residue, blood, fear, death, and something wild was a dizzying mixture that made her take pause before yanking her hand out of the now dead bastard's chest. She turned to look back on the gratuitous scene behind her just in time to catch Creed's misted blue gaze. He was covered with blood and gore; his sleeves were dripping from cuff to elbow with it and his face was caked with it. She suddenly snarled at him when the reminder that he'd started this clusterfuck slapped her in the face. He seemed to read her mind because his lips pulled slowly back into a gloating smirk that she wanted to slash and kiss off his face all at the same time.

The last few moments had been a blur for him, but he'd damn well paused in gutting a guy when he'd seen her galloping on the walls like a crafty lizard. Seeing her tear a chunk out of the arab fuck-faced bastard had reminded him of the night at the high rollers suite when he'd stumbled upon her ripping out DeLaughter's jugular and carotid—it'd been enough to turn him on all over again. The sight of her standing among a heap of bodies and butchery, dress torn and soaked with blood, hands talons, and lips dripping with it; hair loose and eyes glowing wrathfully at him—well, if he thought she looked like one of the greek furies before, she sure as hell looked like one now.

"Reinforcements near arrival! Repeat reinforcements—!" Victor stomped on the intercom that was crackling out of a straggler's reach before lifting the fucker up by his vest. Just when he was going to deal a death blow to really finish him off, Isabela practically breezed to his side. Snatching the man with a deft precision, she ripped the pins off his belt and hurled him towards the enclosed veranda. Victor's grunt of surprise was choked down when she grabbed his bloody lapels and yanked him down to the ground and on top of her just as a loud series of pops chimed gratingly after a shattering crash of glass. A small tremor went through the floor before all the fire alarms began to wail overhead. She shifted firmly against him before shoving him off completely and scrambling to her feet. Victor brought her back down hard by yanking her legs out from under her and rolling on top of her. The fucking bitch had used him as a shield! They wrestled for short moments before she flipped him over her head and leapt out of his reach.

Crouching into a predatory prowl across from him, she snarled, "You fucking brute! How dare you sabotage me—!"

"The same feisty cunt I remember," he snapped viciously at her before adding, "I didn't sabotage anything. As a matter of fact, I was hoping to get you before these fuckers snapped you up. If you're looking for a saboteur you should really think twice about who you work for, viper!"

"…" the anger faltered in her burning green irises, but the russet ring around her pupil seemed to narrow at him. "Stay out of my way, Creed," she suddenly seethed with composed fury before vaulting on all fours with lightning grace towards the now blasted out veranda windows and doors. The winds and snow were billowing wildly into the gashed structure as she galloped out and up onto the building's façade. He watched as she fearlessly leapt off the balcony ledge to dive across the expanse between the hotel and the avenue below onto a church roof. Victor could hear the helicopter coming over the howling winds in the distance and decided to pursue her, not keen to letting her have the fucking last word—or saunter off for a second time without ruthless reprisal—and damn prepared to get his way.

Diving off the ledge to gallop after her, he tore and slashed at every surface he landed on to gain purchase and momentum. The snow wasn't hindering him as much as it seemed to be doing for her, so before long he'd gained on her and could smell the anger and trepidation in her scent. She was trying to get as far as way as fast as possible. Her talons were biting into concrete, glass and steel as she leapt and vaulted across buildings, scaffolds, and even vertical office windows, anything to get the hell away from the goddamned feral hell bent on making her night even more a debacle. She didn't know where the hell to go, but knew staying in the city was suicide, so she sniffed out the closest trail of wilderness. Before long, her hands and feet went from pounding and grappling man-made structures to cold ice and snow. Her limbs were going numb from the cold, but she was far from ground zero. She couldn't stop though. Not with Creed giving chase. Gritting against the pain in her muscles and the debilitating cold night, she bared her fangs and pushed herself to gallop through the leafless trees and cold snow before her hands skidded in a large clearing and she slid on her palms in knees over a frozen surface.

This was the sort of hunt Victor was built for. They didn't call him Sabertooth for nothing. His high metabolism and huge muscle mass made him a wild killing machine and a furnace of heat. The cold barely registered to him when he was giving chase to his prey, but even he was surprised when his claws scraped ice and gouged for ground. Gaining his bearings, he prowled after her on the frozen lake, growling predatorily as she tried to scamper the grueling expanse. She was panting, her breath puffing in the cold as she tried standing on her bare feet. They were now in the middle of the lake, and Victor was taking his time, stalking her cautiously over the ice while she tried to keep as many yards between them as possible.

"Cold bothering you?" Victor mocked gruffly over the gusts of wind. "Nowhere to go now, so be a good bitch and come get punished," he sauntered towards her in a steady pace.

She crouched and snarled at him warningly as she backpedaled as best as she could before her foot skid and she fell hard on her side. The harsh thwick of her fall sent a splintering shift through the frozen surface and Victor braced himself. Isabela tried to grapple onto her feet but as soon as she moved the ice began to snap around her before buckling. Victor watched with startled bemusement when she clawed desperately for purchase before the buckling ice shattered and she went under with a surprised cry.

Isabela yelped more from the shock of falling through ice than the actual biting agony of the ice boxing her in and the freezing water that sucked her under. She held her breath, but the water was so cold it felt like hundreds of needles were stabbing her. No matter how hard she thrashed and clawed, she couldn't muster enough momentum to barrel back to the surface. The opening in the sheet of ice loomed over her like a cold halo of light within the engulfing freezing darkness.

Her lungs began to burn, but the sensation paled in comparison to the excruciating sting that began to hollow her limbs. Her thrashing began to quiver as the breath went out of her and ice water filled her mouth. Drowning—this is drowning…I'm drowning and dying and—and I can feel it. I'm going to die…finally die…finally…

The halo she stared up at began to grey out and shadow over as her body stilled and the cold seeped into her very marrow. Her lips parted and she suddenly felt utterly weightless. She couldn't see anymore, nor feel herself rise up.

This is death…finally…

____________________

Read Chapter 3: Dizzying Need

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Risk It All Part 5/6

This chapter 😫

Reader gets pregnant by Ruben. Although the two are not together Ruben promises to support her through the pregnancy, eventually letting reader stay with him until the child is born.  (This fic includes alot of angst and serious topics)

Enjoy!

"Look at this one, isn't it cute?" You asked Ruben this, holding up a adorable little baby onesie. However, Ruben took one look at it and crinkled his nose. "Too pink." He muttered.

"Um, okay..." You put it back where you found it and followed Ruben down the aisle. It was a small shop in uptown Manchester that sold all the essentials for a newborn baby. You had begged Ruben to take you there for months and finally, on his day off, he did.

"How about this one?" You asked, holding up another onesie you found. It had patterns of baby elephants on them which you found lovely. Ruben however...

"Too blue." He grunted.

"Ruben?" You had enough of his foul mood. "If something is wrong just say it."

His eyes widened in suprise. "Y/N, I'm....I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well you did." You mumbled. "By not wanting to pick out any clothes for our baby."

He sighed, but stopped pushing the shopping cart, turning around to approch you. "I'm sorry okay." He pulled you in for a hug, tight and warm. Your arms barley reached around his waist. "Now, will you tell me what's bothering you?" You asked, because clearly something was.

"Nothing is bothering me. It's just that..."

"Yes?"

Your hug faded as he let you go. "It's just that..."

"Please Ruben, tell me."

He sighed once again. "The baby is due any day Y/N, and here I am off to training camp miles away from you."

It was true. Ruben and his team were leaving for a mid season training camp somwhere in Saudiarabia. However, you had no idea that he had doubts about going.

"Ruben." You said, in your most reassuring voice. "Yes, the doctors say that the baby is due any day. But that doesn't mean tomorrow or the day after that. It could be weeks from now and you're only leaving for a few days."

"Yes, I know but...." He pulled you in for another hug, this one even tighter. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"I won't be alone." You murmured into his shirt. You tiled your head up, resting your chin against the center of his torso. "Lina will be with me."

"Right, Lina..." Ruben hands went to each side of your face, cradling your head in his hands as he bent down to kiss your lips. He briefly pulled back, only to go in for another kiss and another, repeating the act until you giggled against his mouth. "I promise you Ruben, we'll be fine. You enjoy the training camp with your team."

********************************************

"So have you settled for any names yet?" Lina said, taking a swing of her glass of wine. She came by once a day to check on you whilst Ruben was away. She brought her own wine bottles since Ruben neither drank or kept any alcohol in the house.

"No, actually." You replied.

"No?"

"Ruben says It's bad luck."

"I bet he does." Lina chuckled. "Does he also make you drink those green smoothies every morning?"

"It's good for the baby." You blushed. But perhaps Ruben was a bit extravagant when it came to yours and the baby's general health. "At least he cares."

"You got me there." Lina said, putting down her glass. "I'll have to admit that I was wrong about him, he really does love you."

"I wouldn't say love." You mumbled, to which Lina frowned. "I mean he hasn't said those words exactly. I think it's more him, caring for me as the mother of his unborn child. He might not be as attached to me once she's born."

"So you have doubts?" Lina nodded, trying, but failing to judge you for it. She might have judged you less if she was aware of the agreement between you and Ruben, however Elena made you sign an NDA preventing you to tell anyone about it even long after the baby is born. "I just want what's best for my baby." You said indicating that she should drop the subject. Lina did so gladly as her phone buzzed, indicating that your food had arrived downstairs.

"Can I get it." You offered, since sitting still did nothing for your swollen feet.

"Sure thing hun, I'll start setting the table."

You made your way out of the apartment, moving slowly towards the elevator since your swollen belly prevented you from doing anything at a normal pace. You once told Ruben what a nightmare it would be to take the stairs down, to which he had responded by shrugging his shoulders, saying "Maybe I'll buy a house one day." It was sweet of him, to dream of a future life with you and the baby. You hadn't allowed yourself to that, simply because of the nature of your agreement and how your marriage to Ruben was practically arranged.

"Fuck." You sighed, with your back against the elevator wall as you stepped into it. You were drenched in sweat just from that short walk and your heart was beating fast. Pressing on the button to take you downstairs, you realized that there was water running down your legs, creating a puddle around your feet. "Oh no." You gasped. But just then the elevator doors closed and not as smooth as they were supposed to, but with a violent jerk. The lights then flicked on and off as the elevator felt like it was descending, slower than usual.

"Aaahhh."

You gritted your teeth with your hands resting on your belly. There was a sudden pain deep down in your abdomen and now you were sure that you were experiencing your first contraction.

"Somebody, help!" You shouted, however the elevator had gone dark and no longer moving.

"Hello, Y/N, is that you?"

It was Lina's voice, heard somewhere above your head.

"Yes. The elevator stopped and I think I'm having ahhhhhhh." You screamed as the pain hit once again, sharper than the previous one.

"Oh my god. Are you....did your water break?"

"YES!" You were on the floor now, withdrawn into a corner, a dark corner since you failed to see anything beyond the lights surrounding the elevator buttons.

"Shit. I think there's been a power outage." Lina's muffled up voice said. "The whole building is dark. But don't worry, I'll go get help. Just keep breathing."

You breathed and breathed but couldn't help but to feel the walls closing down on you. It was happening, it was really happening. You were going to give birth to your baby alone, with Ruben miles and miles away from you.

[burninggasoline]

My First AJ

Fanfic Part 2/2

⚠️WARNING⚠️

🔞+18 This text might content inappropriate vocabulary, alcohol abuse, nudity and sex.

❌Typos can be found too, spanish is my first language.

This fanfic was written from the bottom of my heart and with all respect to Aaron Judge deserves.

Hope you enjoy 😉

I'M LEAVING TODAY

You woke up. Tired of last night's fun, and what a fun you had, i mean, you fucked with Aaron-phd-Judge, of course you're tired. But when you turned on your side of the bed, he was gone.

You didn't expect something from him but, at least, you wish for him to wake you up and say goodbye.

You got up from bed with the sheets still on you and took a shower to clean up your body and mind. You still smelled like him, you didn't want to clean his mark from you, but you needed it urgently for some reason.

The water started to run down your body and so the memories, because this was the third night in a row you woke up in his bed. Yes, you've been having sex with him for 3 nights straight.

The day after the first night, you went to your Airbnb and screamed to the pillow with your cousin beside you, wanting to hear the gossip.

"Oh my god, spit the soup already" and of course you did. You save certain details for yourself, but you were actually happy for what you thought it was a one night Stand with Aaron. Until it wasn't. You were tempted to call him again, but you went out to enjoy the city instead. The day was awesome and you were about to call it a day when you received a text. Surprising? Of course, but you secretly wished for it and with three words you were hoped and turned on. "Where r u?"

By the third night you practically arrived to his place by yourself. And, for the third day, you woke up alone, used the shower and prepared to leave, but this time, leave for a long time. You have to catch a flight the next day in the morning to your actual home. The memories were all you had to survive his absence after those nights.

You remembered the kiss of his lips giving you chills on their way down between your legs. You remembered his tongue, his fingers, him inside you, the way you have to adapt yourself to his size and how you cum like 10 times or more... you suddenly began to sob because, even tho you were 99% sure this was just a fling, that 1% left wanted something MORE.

"Pull yourself together, stupid. You can't cry over this . It was wonderful while it lasted, but you have to move on" but you knew you didn't want to, and forced yourself to got out from the shower, running to avoid being with your thoughts one more second.

When you were walking to the same elevator everything began, you ran into a mature lady who was cleaning the house. She looked at you, surprised but not shocked and talked.

"Buenos dias, señorita" whether you were latina or knew how to speak Spanish, you understand what she said and return the greeting. "Well at least one has some manners"

"Excuse me but, are you implying there are others?" You regretted that instantly.

"Not implying tho. There are other girls here too. Not too many, just a few sólo. Una que otra repite su visita, but you are a new face. Aunque normalmente tengo instrucciones de dejar limpia la habitación"

"Today you...?"

"No, today he said do not disturb, Gloria, again. It's been 3 days i can't clean until midday, y eso me retrasa en todo, en todo" her accent was too Dominican and heartwarming for some reason.

"De veras lo siento" you said, your hands on your chest. You didn't want to keep you hopes high. Maybe he was just being nice, you didn't know how to react. "That was nice of him and thank you too, ma'am"

"No hay de que, mija, you are not just nice but beautiful too. No problem, i don't have much to do after my job so, puedes despertarte tarde si quieres." She smiled.

You thanked the woman again.

"Wanna grab some breakfast? You must be starving"

"No, thank you, i'm in a hurry. My cousin is waiting for me"

"Well, i hope i see you again, honey. Have a nice day"

"You too, ma'am, it was so nice to meet you"

You entered the elevator and took a uber to your airbnb. There you collapsed. You were overwhelmed by everything you've been living this days and you didn't know how you were going to tell him you were about to leave, even worse, you didn't know if he was going to care. That was the big fat problem.

Your cousin was leaning in the door, watching you torture yourself.

"I wanted to be on your shoes the first night but know... did you tell him?"

"Of course not, I...I..." she sit down on the side of the bed, took your hand and rubbed it.

"Well, you can just disappear, avoid rejection and keep the good memories or you can tell him this is your last night together and see what happens"

"And what if it's not what i want to hear?"

"At least you'll know"

"What if he doesn't call today? Could happen"

"Stop doing that, okay? He will call and you will tell him. Now, get up"

She was right. You packed your things and enjoyed Manhattan for the last time. You didn't know how much time will pass until you came back to the city of your dreams again, so you tried to enjoy as much as you could the rest of the day.

You visited a lot of places and avoid watching the last game at the stadium, you had enough the last few days.

After the sun hided behind the skyscrapers, you grabbed your cousin's hand, enjoying an ice cream. You felt a little bit tired but couldn't helped checking your phone to see if you had messages. Mom, dad, friends, your boss... nothing from him.

"You okay?"

"Well i guess i won't say goodbye"

"Hey..." she took your chin and raised it up "stop sabotaging yourself. You can if you want to. You know where he lives"

"But i don't wanna look like a stalker or too desperate"

"Girl you are desperate, so what the hell, go for it"

"He doesn't live too far from here"

You didn't want to show at his place so surprisingly but you were dying to see him for the last time.

"Just don't be late tomorrow, okay? We don't wanna miss the flight" you said yes and ran straight to him.

The doorman recognized your face and let you in. You were extremely nervous to go up but you needed this.

You entered. He wasn't around, you walked to his bedroom, you heard the water running, he was taking a shower; you felt like walking away from there, like you were intruding into his intimacy but, instead, you stepped in and got into the bathroom, maybe he was expecting you because he didn't jump when you opened the door. You took your clothes off, the underwear and got into the shower. You kissed his back, feeling the hot water on your lips while he was washing the shampoo from his hair.

"Hi there"

"Hi there" he turned and grabbed you by the face, giving you a sweet kiss. Your heart ached. This was just too painful, too intimate, but you couldn't say anything, you let yourself flow with the moment.

"You okay? I feel you... tense"

"Yes, it's just... Don't worry" you continued kissing him from lips, to torso to every single part of his body. The water felt great on you after the day you had, but you weren't there to enjoy anything but him.

He turned you against the wall and started feeling your body with his hands. He kissed your earlobe, your neck, your back and the rest of the song (if you know what i mean) before he began to move his hips inside you. You were wet and not because of the shower. He moved faster until you felt your legs trembling. You had to force yourself not to fall. He grabbed you for a long moment, moaning in your back. He pulled away and you kissed him again before taking the fun to the bed.

There he kissed you with desperation, putting his tongue inside your mouth, biting your lip like an apple. He touched every inch of your skin giving you chills, making you arch your back, handing yourself at his will and god, the things he did to you... he made you touch the sky, the stars... like he knew this was your last encounter.

He was dominant all the time, you scratched his back trying not to give at the tremors of pleasure. You were fucking like animals, but also, he was as tender as you could imagine. He was careful all the time, you could see a sparkle of something in his eye. Love? Pity? Whatever the hell that was, you were kinda making love for the first and last time. You were not going to ruin that... for now.

After you cum, a lot, you fainted beside him, watching the moon coming out in the horizon.

It was 3 o'clock in the morning when you woke up, you had to be at the airport at 8 a.m. so you needed to hurry. He woke up, confused.

"What you doin'?"

"I need to go"

"Why?"

"Aaron, you know this is our last night together, right?"

"I mean, for know" he got up and rubbed his eyes "i leave in a few hours but i'll be back in two weeks"

"Yes, but i also leave in a few hours and i won't come back in God knows how much time"

"What?"

"I don't live here. My home is far far away from here" hia gaze was lost in the wall, poker faced, his hands holding. Was he pissed off? Was he sad? What was he thinking? The suspense was killing you "sorry i didn't tell you before but i didn't think this was going to be a thing between both of us, i mean"

"I honestly thought that too" there was that pain in your heart again. You were expecting those words but you didn't want to actually hear them "but then we woke up together, hugging each other, and i couldn't say goodbye. So i kept calling and waiting for you to came back"

You both exhaled loudly, with no clue about the future.

"So... what are we going to do?" You asked.

"I have no fucking idea, but let's enjoy this few moments together. We'll figure it out later" you kissed deeply, with the moon lighting the moment.

Like Christopher Cross said: when you get caught between the moon and New York City, the best that you can do is fall in love.

[ifimayhaveaword]

Oh right, hey Ali 🐋 okay okay I headcanonthat you have little boxes or containers that you save letters and trinkets and pretty things in, if not carefully loved piles of them. I think you're a good lead, when you dance with someone learning, I think you sing what you're doing or thinking or feeling sometimes.

- elle

Wait wh— Elle!! I am supposed to be hc-ing you!!! But also @ohheyitsokay how did you know I’m prone to singing out my actions, especially when I goof up 🤡 (also are you secretly my government-assigned FBI agent?? How else would you know about my box of letters & postcards, old tea tins and teacups holding jewelry and hair baubles and knickknacks—?? Elle you are eerily good at this or else I’m transparent as wet silk)

Similar to Dia, I know you, but do not know nearly enough about you so here goes—

You ABSOLUTELY do the thumb-rub if you’re holding someone’s hand. Don’t try to convince me you don’t, I can feel this one in my bones.

Similarly, you’re good at judging whether people want to make eye contact— I feel like you prefer it; you want the person you’re with to know you’re paying attention to them, that you’re listening and they’re important, but you also know it can make some people uncomf so you’ll take their cues. It’s one of the many things you do that people might not notice, but adds to the air of comfort you exude.

Also I know for a fact that you’re an angel in disguise 😌

[shushy101]

If you're accepting prompts, genderbent Plance w/body paint. Do with that what you will

;))))

yes [ quick note , tried to make lances name fit with spanish names because well , hes spanish , but i failed miserably because all the websites i went to were so incredibly hard to use . same for pidge nsjfjehfhr . and for the sake of lance ill genderbend allura too , so it doesnt complicate shit more ]

strongish language because they would . or maybe not . stuff gets kinda frisky friskers tho . just like two lines . nothing too hardcore .

dia de muertos - the day of the dead ! aka , our beloved lancita's favourite time of the year . she has multiple , but we shall forget about that for the sake of this story !

" so , basically , we paint calveras - i mean skulls on our faces . " lancita said firmly . she pulled out a palette of presumably , body paint , out of literally nowhere . she pushed a container that was already on her sink towards pidge that had brushes of all kinds . . " so you mean ... you don't know how to translate shit to english ? " pidge snickered , slapping on as much white pigment as he could , because that was what lance was doing . " no , i just didn't remember the english word because i'm a spanish idiot kid , give me a pass , katien . " she had a proud look on her face , smugly smiling as she picked up more pigment from the palette . " fuck you for use my legit name , garden hoe butt . before you comment on my censoring , i don't want shiro walking in and scolding my dumb butt . " lancita just snorted and continued to look into her bathroom mirror and paint on colours with a thick , fluffy brush .

" so you paint the white first because the majority is white , " the tan female explained . " i knew that , doesn't take much effort to think , not like you'd know , " pidge half-jokingly said , which his compainion picked up at lightning speed . she punched pidge lightly , smiling widely . " i hate you for a good reason , " she laughed , fixing up pidge's face because it was splotchy everywhere . " this seems more like a act of love than hate , " pidge smiled , blushing just a teensy bit .

lancita , however , was very clearly flushed . through the layer of white , pidge could see a thin veil of pink . he noted how cute her ears and neck blushed bright against her tan , sun-kissed skin that was somehow still as tan as ever even in space . he despairingly noticed that she didn't brush his cheeks with her thumbs out of affection when he said that sweet thought , because of the white that could smear onto lancita's skin . that did not spark joy . but it was nice while lancita's hand cupped his ear and pushed her hand into his dense , slightly curled hair .

" there , fixed you up . try not to be so heavy handed , this isn't a game for pushing buttons on killbot phantom , " lancita joked , trying to not acknowledge her blush that heated her up . " such sugarcoated words , " pidge said dryly , who then gave up on white and switched to black . lancita smiled , and any sliver of annoyance and anger was lifted off pidge immediately . whoever could be angry at those beautiful , crystal blue eyes ? it was like ocean blue , but not as blue , but not as light as light blue . it was somewhere in between .

" earth to kat-face ? " lancita laughed , pidge quickly snapping back to painting his face , nervously rubbing his legs together , a big fat rosy blush overtaking his senses . lancita just smiled , with her nice perfectly white teeth showing and absolutely stunning eyes glowing . which was horrible in pidge's perspective because he was desperately hoping his peripheral vision was on his side , but not today sisters ! he cussed under his breath gently , wishing that one day he would wake up next to her and lancita would not open her eyes to greet him for the sake of his confused self . they were friends , explicitly friends , just friends , no benefits .

lancita pressed on the black pigment on her eyelids , humming under her breath a random tune that she thought pidge would like to hear . it just made the sides of her already slightly tilted up lips tilt even higher . she was just happy that she knew pidge liekd hearing her voice , just as much as she liked hearing him . he was so good at coaxing her back to sleep with his pretty lilting voice when she had nightmares , pressing his face into the crook of her neck to try and make her relax . and he made her feel so incredibly soft and secure when he hugged her . sure , pidge was not much taller than her , but it was nice .

she dully noticed pidge's nervousness , since she was so intent on finishing up her look to checl on the sugar skulls chilling in the freezer . he was shifting in his seat , legs pressed together . a little flaring thought said to her that she was the one who caused this , perhaps he liked her , but lancita quickly pushed it away as hormones overreacting .

" hey , lancey-lance , is this okay ? " pidge looked at her , trying to comprehend if it was the right way to draw the borders or not . besides , he wanted her to paint on his face again . lancita sighed happily , feeling good that pidge asked her for help . she turned to see a pretty good job , and told him she would fix up his little mistakes . and just to try and insinuate something , she added , " perhaps you do make a rather charming companion after all . " yes , she wanted to sweet-talk her way into his heart because goddamnit , she was straight up thirsty .

this , firstly , earned her a gentle pushing back of her long , brown hair and a soft tinkling laugh . he also had put down his paintbrush and took her decorative comb that pinned back her hair and repinned it into a bun , gently running his fingers and untangling some hair . " your hair always smells so very nice , " which pidge did not mean to say that out that loud . lancita just took his other hand that was placed back on the table and squished it a bit harder than she should've . pidge just wrapped his arm around her , the other one going around the front of her curvy waist . he leaned on her head and hated that he was feeling real fucking hot and burning everywhere . he was pretty sure lancita was too , judging by her blushing down her neck and ears so much she tensed up under him .

lancita fought the urge to just pull him closer , just to feel him and know he's alive , that he'll talk to her and tidy up her hair and play videogames and everything else in between . perhaps she was irrationally swayed and attached and most definitely too sentimental about him . besides , she could just ask in a long-winded way on how to deal with it to him and let him assume it was alluran . she faked the whole " i like alluran " thing as a decoy after she realized pidge was honestly way cuter and so , so much hotter than he was . it went from zero to one hundred real quick .

she tried her best to not rush it , but ended up doing so anyway and slapped on some red , matte lipstick so people would not turn their attention the trash edges at the bottom . lancita turned her attention and body to face him so she could fix up any of his mistakes , a tad bit roughly cupping his face that was so close she could nearly just kiss him . she did her thing , trying not to get distracted by his wonderful hair that cupped his face so perfectly . his brown eyes that were tinted with amber and honey , and how nice the light reflected off it .

pidge tried to discreetly pull her closer so he could kiss her because he would like to be covered in red all of a sudden . lancita did not seem to notice and started to put her brushes away , and started keeping everything at a rapid fire pace . so pidge took this chance to fluff up his hair in a somewhat neat way and lean closer to her cheek . " hey question , do i ever get lipstick ? because i do like the colour of your lips . "

he tried desperately to be smooth to get that red colour on his lips from hers , and lancita being the absolute nerd for romance immediately took it as a note that he wanted to get in her pants , or more correctly , pajamas and eat her whole .

so she , out of impulse , decided to get frisky and pushed her hand up his shirt . she took that it was a good move since he had , in retailation , pressed his lips messily against hers and the hand around her waist went downwards .

shiro was questioning why it took pidge and lance that long to finish up their body paint . he quizzically touched the chilling sugar skull in the freezer , astonished that it did not fall apart at his touch , tapped the sugar skull again and it promptly fell apart . " uh . well . oh dear . " shiro stared , blinked twice , and called for hunk , who called for keith , who called for alluran , and they decided to go to lancita for advice on what to do now .

thhey were greeted by smeared body paint and lots of red , which shiro then took to the birds and the bees .

Edit : to clarify about the whole complication of allura and lance thing i personally thin kthat lance isnt bi , so genderbent lance isnt bi

Another thing is my crappy writing style please kill it

[diamondwolfart]

woah, hey, gatekeeping anon here. vagueposting isn't chill and dia has already stated that it's their opinion and they didn't mean to take away the fun from other people. but dia, the reason this is ruffling feathers isn't because you have an opinion that's different to others - it's the content of that opinion that's aggravating to other content creators, bc what you're saying sounds entitled, and is gatekeeping. lots of people agree with you on needing more IC content - you can make it!

It wasn't my intention to look like I'm better then others and shove my ideas on others people's throats. I'm more agressive in my points of view I guess but I still will never take people's fun away, even if I do rant about it.

Heck I get this all the time, me being a furry and seeing people say "Ugh they are so gross they should die" but that's their problem and opinion and that doesnt bother me, cuz I know I'm having fun and what others think is not a thing to take for granted unless you think it helps you in some way.

Maybe I have thicker skin and I don't get bothered by others attacking what I do or like amd therefore dont understand how others can get so judging and distressed from some random text post.