#grow up and they become x-men and it's fine everything's cool

[sovaharbor]

Generation X Epic Collection: Emplate's Revenge (2022)

this. has me SO fucked up. "every time i ask myself why we're doin' this, every time -- somethin' happens to remind me." and, like. it's really giving 'chicken or the egg.' is this school necessary to protect these kids from incidents like this, or are these incidents simply happening to them because they're at the school and training underneath the x-men, thereby exposing them at a much higher level to all the crazy fucking shit the x-men get involved in, but then that makes it seem like they NEED to be at the school to be protected even though it's actually putting them at more risk than if they weren't there??? GEE I WONDER.

[arsheyee]

JJK BOYS CAUGHT YOU IN THE “ACT”

Hi long time no see…. This is my second multiple JJK men in one writing…. Hope you all enjoy it ✌️💕. It turned out to be little long… I got carried away 😅😅😅

You check out my first post on JJK MEN AND KINKS AND PLAYS

Synopsis: You are home alone and your boyfriend wasn’t supposed to arrive until the day he told you. You just could take it anymore and decided to release some of the sexual tension. Everything was fine until he walks in to surprise you by coming early. How will JJK men react seeing you masturbating??….

Warnings ⚠️: female masturbating, interrupted masturbating, orgasm denial, spanking, P in the V… (lol I forgot at this point…😶 tbh I wrote this intro after writing the whole text)

Paring: Gojo x fem!reader, Geto x fem!reader, Nanami x fem!reader, Toji x fem!reader (individual pairing)

Ok that is enjoy ☺️

No minors from this point 🔞🔞🔞🔞

Gojo Satoru

Your hands reach to grab the cool satin sheets as you are sprawled on the bed. Your body heat is rising and sweat trickled don your forehead. You rest your forehead on the fluffy pillow. You pushed your fingers deeper inside of yourself, panting and rubbing your spot just right as you could feel yourself becoming slowly reaching your orgasm by the minute.

Your thoughts drift to the dirty and naughty things you and Satoru do.

You curl up your fingers up your gummy walls to find your g-spot. You rapidly sliding in and out of your dripping sex. You want to feel his lips on your body. Your hands want to grip his shoulders. You miss him plunging your tight cunt. As he fucked you senseless in his bed.

You quickened your pace setting your wrist in a rhythm. You clench your thighs together wanting your orgasm to last a little longer.

You were knuckle deep inside of yourself, pumping up against the roof of your pussy while your thumb worked your swollen bud mercilessly, trying desperately to coax out the mind blowing orgasm you could feel growing deep inside of your core, crying out, “Satoru! Satoru! Gojo Satoruuuuu!”

As you are about to reach your long awaited orgasm, the bedroom door snapped open.

You jerked your head up from the pillow and see Gojo leaning against the doorframe with a smirk branded on his face. “Yes darling?” He said in the most smug voice.

“Satoru! You I umm when did you come back from the mission?”you stuttered trying to change the topic. You wiped the sweat off your upper lip.

Gojo leaned there on to the doorframe and admired your position in front of him; fingers knuckle deep inside of your dripping pussy, legs spread out wide for you to get just the right angles.

“Screaming out my name, huh? You just couldn’t wait for me to get home to fuck that pussy of yours? You are so selfish baby.” He silky said walking over to you. Each step slow and agonising. You averted your eyes away from him.

He hooked a finger under your chin and kissed you. His long slender fingers slip inside you finding that sweet spot instantly. He rubbed up against it making you squirm around.

“Please Toru please I need you I can’t take it anymore” you whined and begged for him to fuck you senselessly.

You moaned out loudly it echoed on the walls of the bedroom.

He scissored his fingers inside your dripping cunt. His thumb slowly rubbed against your clit sending electric shocks that made your mouth hang open. Nothing came out no sound, no whines nothing.

“Come on baby I’ll help you get off. You wanted to cum so badly not having me around now what happened? Cat’s got your tongue?” He teased seeing that you can’t coherently function.

With that, his fingers pressed deeper inside of your walls, resisting the way your walls tried to push him out because you were about to cum on his fingers alone. “Say my name again,”

Your thigh snap shut and you clench your nerdy pussy around his as you cum for him.

“Toru I am cumming” you scream.

Gojo smirked at you as he pulled his fingers from you, licking them not breaking eye contact with you, “I hope you’re ready for my dick baby, because the night is still young.”

Geto Suguru

You were in a very compromising position as your legs hang off the side of the bed, your fingers pushed tightly inside of you to reach those spots that needed to be reached in order for the perfect orgasm, legs spread out to angles you weren’t even sure you could put them through.

Why was this a “difficult” position you were in? Because Geto, had some business to take care off and had left you alone in the house for three weeks straight. He wasn’t supposed to arrive until till the next weekend. But he was there, standing in the door. He had strictly told you not to play with yourself because he loved to how tight you felt after going a long while without anything inside you. And you being well you decided to give in to your selfish desires and deny him the pleasure of having your tight cunt. Too bad.

He glared at you standing at the door with his arms crossed clearly pissed you disobeyed him and ignored everything that he had instructed you not to do.

You whimper looking at him pulling out your fingers from your pussy. Your juices coated your fingers and the sheets. You say up looking at him. Before you could explain yourself, you heard him sigh as he put down his hands and the closed door, making his way over to you as he loosened his belt in the process, eyes fixed on you.

He dampened his lips by running his tongue over them. His eyes focused on your dripping cunt and your thighs as they quiver. Suguru approached you, standing in front of you as he lifted your chin up with so much as a soft finger placed underneath your chin, looking at your almost fucked out face with a smirk, “Let daddy take care of you now.”

Confused, you looked up at him with a questions in your head, but couldn’t help but to see the bulge that grew steadily, forming a dent on his pants.

You tried to reach out and grab at his belt, but Geto stopped you, grabbing your wrists, “I said, let daddy take care of you.”

You let your hands fall to the side. Geto loosened his belt all the way, pushing his boxers and pants to the floor as he allowed his throbbing cock to spring free. The sight alone caused another mini-orgasm to rush out of your pussy and drip underneath you, your pussy begging to be filled with his cock that always satisfies your needy and greedy pussy.

You were definitely sure that Geto is going to punish you because you broke the deal you both had not to touch yourself. You anticipated to what he will do next.

Geto showed no mercy as he pumped himself into you, your hands go to grip his shoulders. He takes your wrists and pins them above with one hand you drawing back fully to get the deepest strokes he could. His hand gripped loosely around your neck, cutting off the air supply to your brain to allow yourself to be placed in a lucid state that intensified your high as you got close to your release. “Sugu, I’m s-so close.,”

He quickens his pace to make you reach your orgasm.

“Yes! Yes yesss!” You yelled as you began clenching around him. He could tell you were almost about to get your orgasm.

Geto smiled down at you through his harsh strokes, nodding at your comment as he began to slow down his pace, to deny you of your orgasm.

He pulled out of you as he felt the initial tightening of your walls around his throbbing cock, watching as your face turned to shock and anger at the emptiness your pussy felt. “W-What in the?” You say frustrated , breathing heavily as you could feel the intense feeling of pleasure knotting painfully in your cunt.

“I told you not to touch yourself while I was gone, and this is what happens when you do. I got all night long to punish you”. He smirked.

Fushiguro Toji

“Fuck,” You grunted lowly to yourself as you pressed your favorite toy closer to your clit, feeling it pulse wildly against the most sensitive part of you, hoping to hurry up with the orgasm you just needed to have after waiting weeks for your release.

Toji had been busy with the a new assignment and you weren’t one to hinder him on anything, assuring him you would be fine.

But you weren’t fine. In reality you were actually everything but fine. You missed him. His eyes, his snarky remarks but most of all you missed how deep he would fill you up. To the brim.

Missing the feeling of having him deep inside of you as he would choke you slightly, begging you to call out his name in the fit of passion you two would have for hours on end. Those dirty thoughts circled in your mind as you pushed the bullet vibrator closer on your clit, finding that special point to force a squeaky moan out from within, “Toji! Oh god, Toji baby I miss you!”

“Oh fuck I am cumming for you” you moan as your body convulsed as the toy helped you reach your orgasm. You cum instantly, flopping down on the bed with your forearm on your sweaty forehead as you panted how much you missed your boyfriend.

You are startled by the sudden opening of the door. You threw the toy to the side of the room, snapping your legs shut on the bed if it happened to be an intruder since you weren’t expecting anyone.

“Wha- Toji? I thought you weren’t coming back until Tuesday…” you panted. He said nothing to you as he walked briskly over to you, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to your feet, glaring into your eyes.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. He pulled you with force to bend you across his knee. He rested his palm on your plump bare ass. You gulped down. He was definitely going to punish you for masturbating when he told you not to.

He looked down at you squirming around knowing that what punishment naughty girls get when they don’t listen.

His hand drew back as far as he could muster, swiftly coming in contact with your ass as it connected to your plump ass, leaving a stinging pain in your backside as it recoiled, “I thought I told you not to touch yourself until I got back. I should’ve known better that my beautiful little slut couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Count five spanks”

“One” you started counted your eyes glassy

“Ah- ahh tw-ahh two” it felt electric you couldn’t stop moaning as he spanked you.

“Thr-three”

“Ungh four ahh”

“Mnph-five”

Toji’s hand caress the now stinging flesh, feeling the growing warmth against his hand as you began to whimper at him, silently begging that he would give you the mercy of a short punishment.

“Are you going to be good and wait the next time I go out on my assignment? Or you are going to be naughty and touch my pussy?” He darkly chuckled seeing tears fill up in your eyes.

“I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

Nanami Kento

“Mnfp-Kento oh Kento” you silently moaned as you pushed the small bullet vibrator inside you as you humped the pillow. His pillow. You wore his shirt and smelled it as you humped the soft material. Your juices seeping into the pillow. As you grind on the pillow, your movements became fast and erratic. You want your boyfriend to fill you up, run your clit. He was working overtime as always and he was definitely going to be late.

You aggressively rubbed your clit on the pillow, wanting to reach that moment of bliss.

“Urgh-fuck” you tried to angle yourself to find that spot but you couldn’t. You never could. But Nanami he would find it in an instant with his thick finger. He would always find your g-spot the minute you two engaged in sexual activities, even if he were drunk.

He could always pull you into euphoria whenever he got the chance, both with his dick and his tongue.

“Fuck yes almost thereeee” you flipped on your back bucking your hips up into the toy. As you were in the middle of trying to get your release you felt the toy being pulled out. You jolted your head up confused, if it slipped out?

Instead, you were greeted with Nanami’s blonde haired head in between your legs, ripping the toy out of you and forcing it over to the side. “Kento!” You cried out gleefully as you wiped the sweat off of your forehead, feeling how hot your face had gotten and sensing that if you had that toy in you a little bit longer without ant interruption, you surely would’ve felt the ecstasy begging to be unraveled from your pussy. Nanami finally looked up at you from your thighs, his eyes filled with hunger as his lips were mere centimeters from your screaming heat, lips forming a devilish grin as the air he breathed out from his nose hit your exposed clit, you shuddering even though he wasn’t even touching you, “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You hid your face in your palms feeling a mix of relief that he is here and embarrassed that he caught you like this.

Namami’s eyes flicked from your lips down to your wet pussy lips, licking his lips as he brought his face down, nestling his cheeks in between your thighs as you pressed them together to trap him where you needed him most. You could feel his smirk from the thighs touching his cheeks as he licked a large strip of your pussy, the juices flowing out of you covering his taste buds as he relished in your taste. His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he plunged his tongue deeper into your cunt, his pressing onto your already throbbing and oversensitive clit from your previous “actions”, your legs shaking in his palms as he continued to squeeze your perky nipples.

“Kento fuck!” You cried out as your hands held onto a good grip on his hair that wrapped around your fingers from your constant guiding of his head to this spot and that spot, thighs quaking underneath his touch. Nanami didn’t stop his movements as his tongue flicked mercilessly at your pulsing clit, taking it into his mouth to feel it in all of its glory as it pulsed uncontrollably from the orgasm you were currently feeling. You could feel your legs beginning to give out as Hoseok pushed his tongue into you, exploring every part of your slick cavern with his talented tongue, moaning uncontrollably as a response. As your legs finally gave out underneath his touch, Nanami pulled his already hard dick out for you, giving you one last lick from the bottom to the top as he stared into your eyes, chin glistening with your cum, “I’ve missed you too.”

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hello mara, do you or would you ever wear physical items to show your faith, such as jewellery or carry similar accessories? what do you think about it?

hi anonymous;

i try to adhere to the adventist etiquettes since i attend the church (it might bear repeating that i do not consider myself a christian and mostly just attend the adventist church because i have a soft-spot for it as part of my 'growing up' and have a measure of loyalty/love to/for it), and one of those is to not wear jewelry -- so i don:t! i let my ears become unpierced, even, cause the shame of secretly taking my earrings out on saturdays was getting to me (as well: i:ve always been wary about breaks in 'integrity of self' and even-just having my ears pierced always made me feel like i were muddying the floors of a temple; granted: i got my ears pierced because of kurapika from hxh);

but also: just in general i don:t like accessorizing very much; i don:t really see the point in it, and much of the 'whim' i get to have 'nice things' (like dolls, or figurines, or pretty pictures) always amounts to realizing that now that i have it there is nothing to be done with it cept look at it and go "yep seen it; wish i spent my money on food instead"; reflects in my fashion; just wear the same few things every single day; non-flashy and comfortable; though -- i saw on tiktok this guy hungryformunchies (or something like that, i should know his name i really like him) wearing this amazing Venom (the comic character!) overprint shirt and it was the most i:d ever wanted a piece of clothing in ages -- it just reeked of everything that i once thought cool back when my mom would take me to comic/halloween stores as a kid and i:d look at those x-men cards that occasionally had the COOL 3d holographic versions and think it were something magic and pristine;

now mostly everything is equally uninteresting cept in rare sparks and doing extra things like putting on some jewelry i don:t care about makes me feel like i am doing something that ought be done solely to trick the spirit to think i am offering it more of my attention than i am; example: using some hypothetical God as example: would loudly praying in a public place be a better gesture to that invisible thing i:ve sworn myself to, or is it a gesture to the public that "yes, i am faithful!"; surely that invisible creator ought be fine with invisible promises that i carry out without gesture or glamour; surely-still (to both myself and the invisible) it might even feel more glamorous than any jewelry to carry-out those promises at the inconvenience of the Public without much thoroughfare, even if it makes me fanatical or strange or inconvenient; as another example: i like my scarring, but mostly i:m fairly content to keep that unseen. it:s the general philosophy i have about "making art for yourself" being bogus and always necessitates that externalizing the Idea or Prayer succeeds in nothing but offering that internal core to the outside insectile intelligences, and any reward from doing-so is the coaxing offered to encourage that behavior; insects: sneaky and crafty.

wish i had that venom shirt, though;

take care, anonymous.

[medusasbush]

read in march 2023

articles (ones behind a paywall are linked through webpage archive):

articles

Reverse boundaries How good are we at respecting when someone else says 'no'?

"Slow Pleasure" in a Fast World

Should People Be Allowed to Like Things? Are we discoursing ourselves to death?

The Divine Delusion of Gender: On "Energy" and the TikTokification of Spirituality

Spiritual misogyny is flourishing on TikTok

How ‘Poker Face’s’ Stop-Motion Animation Episode Was Brought to Life

Are there too many sex scenes in movies?

Man Says BetterHelp Referred Him to Conversion Therapy Supporter

Who's Afraid of Mark Rothko?

When Everything Becomes an Event

Meet the Lipsdick: A Dick Shaped Lipstick

How Do We Define the Female Gaze in 2018?

Do Words Mean Anything Anymore?

It’s Been Over Two Decades Since We’ve Had a Non-White Best Actress Winner. Will That Change in 2023?

I'm Coming Clean about Friend Envy & You Should Too

A Friend Doesn't Have to be "Toxic" to be Bad for You

Does Anyone Mend Clothes Anymore?

The Moral Case Against Equity Language

Inspiration Is Everywhere. Literally: The "We're Not Really Strangers"-ification of social media.

Men Are Lonely. But Women Are Being Attacked: Male Loneliness is Not Women's Problem to Solve

Romance isn't Just for Dating

What is Romantic Friendship?

The Case of the Missing Perpetrator: On Mysterious Pregnancies, the Passive Voice, and Disappearing Men

Dingus of the Week: Women’s History Month

Friends and mentees remember Judy Heumann, mother of the disability rights movement

The Language of Place

One of Walgreens biggest stockholders commissioned Fearless Girl

Fine I'll admit it. I Like Titanic.

A Plan Forms in Mexico: Help Americans Get Abortions

Can Nostalgia Be Sinister?

The Stay-At-Home Girlfriend Phenomenon

A Conversation With Stay-At-Home Girlfriend & Content Creator Kendel Kay

The Soft Boy Brigade: Was He “Written By a Woman” or Is He Just Wearing Nail Polish?

The Scientific Reason You Love Watching Reruns

Take Some Pills for Your Hysteria, Lady: America's Long History of Drugging Women Up

Everybody’s a Critic. So Stop Hating Critics.

A League of Their Own Is The First Great Gay Movie-to-TV Reboot

The Bear: At Last, A Chicago Show For People Who Are Not From Chicago And Have Never Stepped Foot There

the science of giving pain

i bet she has a nice scream: in praise of X, the new novel by Davey Davis

the persistent desire: on erotic identification

leatherdyke gender technology

‘The Last of Us’ Finale: First-Person Shooter

The ‘Last of Us’ Finale Is Just as Ambiguous and Agonizing as the Game’s Indelible Ending

What Exactly Is the Point of ‘The Last of Us’?

Do We Need Another ‘Love Letter to Cinema’?

Everyone needs to grow up: Whether it’s people who mention their Hogwarts house on their Hinge profile or literal white supremacists, culture is awash with adult babies

Instagram Store Core: A Manifesto Against Avant-Basic Home Design

Who Gets Care and Who Gets to Die?

Shoppers say secondhand stores like Goodwill are getting too expensive as Gen Z makes thrifting cool

Where Does Discarded Clothing Go?

How ‘travel aesthetics’ are ruining travel for everyone

Why is everyone so obsessed with frontal lobe development?

the sinking pleasure of a bath

Love, Sex, and Disabled Women: we want to be sexy too.

“Nope” Perfectly Encapsulates My Disappointment with the Biden Administration

What really killed Jane Austen?

On (Not) Discovering Disability in the World of Jane Austen: Disabled characters are present in Austen’s novels, but largely invisible in her cinematic remakes

Nathan Lane: Robin Williams ‘Protected Me’ From Coming Out as Gay on ‘Oprah’ in 1996 Because ‘He Was a Saint’

'The Last of Us’ finale isn’t controversial, it’s correct

The Oscars are beyond repair. Let’s make something better.

The House That Mr. Mayer Built: Inside the Union-Busting Birth of the Academy Awards

‘A League of Their Own’ is based on the 1992 movie, but has an identity all its own

Black Southern food isn’t killing us:The ‘plate’ is not the real problem

In the history of hip-hop fashion, there’s no ignoring Lil’ Kim

The next first ladies of rap

books:

Wear, Repair, Repurpose: A Maker's Guide to Mending & Upcycling Clothes by Lily Fulop

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 9: Ravenous Attention & Carnal Affections

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: 17,000+

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: Explicit sex, adult situations, implied rape, graphic imagery, feral power play, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and a pinch of angst. 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 9: Ravenous Attention & Carnal Affections

He hadn't been in Paris since WWII. Back then he hadn't cared much for the city, let alone its inhabitants.

The decades that had passed hadn't diminished his distaste for the traffic-clogged, surly and pompous city. The baroque and picturesque architecture reminded him of gaudy messes overshadowed by the cold and sleek edifices that hovered throughout the overpopulated cityscape.

Standing in the lobby of the Four Seasons George V Hotel just off Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Victor couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the extravagant opulence around him, and all the stuck up snobs that filtered through the marble parlors adorned in 16th century objets d'art. Leaning against a whitewashed marble column, he watched the bellhop take their luggage to their room while Isabela was being gushed over by the concierge. From what he could surmise, her alias of the moment was divine royalty of some sort and the plump little man was verbally contorting to promise her the best accommodations in all of Paris.

He'd decided to hang back; moments like these wouldn't be facilitated by his ferocious and intimidating appearance. The fact that she didn't take kindly to him crowding her during these moments was a big part of his presumption to the former and latter, so he entertained himself with eyeing her and looking the part of an imposing bodyguard.

A woman with a miniature yorkie bustled at a shallow pace towards the concierge and interrupted the man's verbose ass-kissing, allowing Isabela to collect the room key and assure him she was fine with letting herself in the room. She even petted the lapdog before heading towards Victor.

"I hope you don't think you'll be getting a dog," he murmured with gruff amusement once they were in the elevator.

She glanced at him and smiled cynically. "What do you mean? Why would I want a pet?"

He leaned in close. "Figured you'd want something to keep you company when I'm not around. No dogs though. I'm not putting up with some mutt's territorial bullshit," he snickered and smirked at her when she turned to look at him.

Her expression was cool and unfazed, with only her brow expressing her sardonic reaction to his confident retort. "Why would I need anything to keep me company," she mused matter-of-factly and turned to face the elevator doors before continuing, "I don't need a pet."

Anger bubbled in him, but he submerged it. The doors opened and she walked out towards their lavish suite with him a stride behind her. Ever since they'd landed, she'd reverted back into the ice queen temperance of the first time they'd met in the Vegas conference room. Her affection had cooled, and her focus had made her demeanor nonchalant and measured—businesslike. He could sense her resolve building, growing taut like a bow inside of her, but he didn't know just what she was guarding herself against.

When they entered their luxurious suite draped with the finest décor and furnished in regality, Victor slammed the door behind him. He watched her turn unconcerned towards him from the terrace doors with a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower across the distance and the hotel garden below.

"What're you thinking?" His question was more growl than anything.

Isabela couldn't help but smile. "That's something I never pictured you asking," she murmured softly before taking her coat off and draping it over the back of the couch and heading towards the bedroom.

Setting his jaw, he followed her, walking past their luggage packed with a few sexy outfits for her and his laundered clothes. He was currently wearing a tailored dress shirt and slacks—fashioned after his all-black ensemble—she'd wrangled getting for him before their trip. Mustn't look like a vagabond, lover. She'd purred to him when the tailor had walked away. If you're gonna strike fear into mortals hearts, you should do so in style. Her fingers had curled into the dress shirt to claw the undershirt plastered to his hard muscled and furred chest. There's nothing more terrifying than a well-dressed killer, especially one with a mischievous smile. Her eyes had danced with affection and coy allure, her lips softening with a provocative smile. He was getting hot just remembering the desire in her tone and the feel of her body against his as she seductively adjusted his clothes, hands lingering playfully on his body.

That heat was gone in her now and Victor felt a grating agitation because of it.

Their bedroom was pristine and lavish, but he didn't really bother looking around. Instead, he watched her from the doorway as she pulled her boots off and caressed her legs before crossing them. She knew he was rancorous with her impassivity, sizing her up and scrutinizing what her motives could be. Standing from the divan, she worked the zipper down the back of her dress, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she slipped out of the material slowly. Victor watched her slink out of the dress and leave it with her discarded boots before entering the gold and marble bathroom without a second look at him.

It pissed him off.

He grabbed her, his claws possessively digging into her flesh as he trapped her in his arms. Isabela's breath hitched, but her expression didn't flicker. The sweet and spicy smell of her arousal wasn't as copious as he'd gotten used to, and the smoldering scent of anger didn't register at all. Tracing his fingertips down the curve of her jaw, Victor's eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared crossly.

"You're thinking of leaving."

His voice had been cold and calm, but the fire that burned in his eyes spoke volumes for him. Isabela leaned into him and stood on her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"No, Victor. I'm thinking of what happens next." His eyes sharpened and his jaw clenched. "Right now, I'm thinking of a hot bath," she kissed him chastely on the lips. Her hands snaked into the collar of his coat and massaged down his collarbones before fanning out to shove his black trench coat off his broad shoulders. "Join me?"

He stared down at her, skeptical but ferociously hungry for her affections. She knew how to touch him; knew just when to kiss and bite, lick and suck. But most of all, she felt right in his arms and under him; it felt natural, unlike any other interaction he'd had with anyone since his childhood days with Jimmy. He wasn't prepared to let that go, regardless of what she was really thinking.

Shrugging out of his clean black trench coat, he kept his arms around her—possessive as he watched her unbutton his shirt and undress him until he had to let her go in order for her to finish getting him naked. Once he was completely stripped free of his black ensemble, he and his viper caressed and nuzzled each other teasingly while the tub filled. Victor picked her up and climbed into the tub once it was brimming with water, easing into the heat and continuing his brusque affections with her.

His mouth brushed her pulse before he hesitated in sinking his fangs into the tender spot.

"Tell me what you want, Izzie."

She blinked and stared at him, taken aback by the irrevocable determination in his eyes as he pulled her close and onto his lap.

"I don't know what I want."

"Bullshit," he barked gruffly and tangled his hand in the back of her hair. "I'm not a goddamned idiot; I can see it," he growled and bared his fangs in irritation at her. "You're plotting…can smell it on you."

"Victor…" she paused and gazed into his eyes, knowing she was at an impasse. She felt butterflies in her stomach and a knot tangle in her chest; sensations she hadn't suffered in decades. Since the moment she woke up in his arms, she'd felt muddled and trapped, but not by him. For the first time since Argentina, she didn't know where she was going, and it scared her, not because it was potentially a dangerous trap, but because it excited her, and she was growing to want more…

"I want to continue living as I have…without strings attached," she replied and felt his fingers tighten in the back of her hair. "You want to keep me as a trophy…"

"I just wanna keep you, period."

Her eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn't read before she smiled and averted her eyes to his chest. Caressing her palms along the muscled and furred planes of his pectorals, she mused, "You want to keep me on a leash. Getting a pet to keep me company while you're gone? You expect to keep me in a gilded cage while you what, continue being a mercenary, globe trotting while I sit in some glass tower somewhere waiting for you? What if I don't want to play by your rules? Your expectations are—"

"Expectations?" he hissed in and bared his fangs in a sneer. "I want you. You're mine. You don't have to worry about expectations as long as you fucking get that!"

She sighed and shuffled back in the tub, creating some distance between them. "Would you accept this if it was the other way around?"

Victor snarled in vexation. "Whatta fuck are you talkin' about—?"

"Stop snarling and think about it!" Isabela actually slammed her hand into the water and hissed warningly, "You're trying to iron out some sort of commitment here, where you keep me like some fucking piece of ass somewhere, expecting me to comply and be yours unconditionally, but you sure as hell don't presume to do the same, now do you? What if I demanded the same from you? If I said I'd be yours only if you were mine, would you submit?"

"…are you asking if I'd fuck other frails or something?"

Isabela balked at him. "Victor…you're amazing," she gasped with biting sarcasm as she climbed out of the tub and stalked into the shower stall set in the corner of the bathroom.

He watched her start to shower, and couldn't help the gloating smirk tug his lips. Sure he'd probably pissed her off something awful, but at least he'd gotten her out of ice queen mode. Most of what she'd said was valid on a feral level, but to him, she was a woman first, so he really didn't care what her objections were. He would never consider her his pet, but she was his; that's all that mattered in the end.

Ending the bath, Victor went over to join her in the shower, figuring at the very least that Isabela was riled up enough to really work out some of their equal frustrations out before they headed out on the town.

She huffed when he crowded her from behind, snaking his arms around her to glide his hands down her soapy body.

"Déjà vu, huh sweetness," he purred before licking water off the shell of her ear.

Grunting, she turned her aggravated gaze at him under the cascading water. "Where do you think this arrangement is going, cub?"

Nudging his arousal against her, he murmured in a gravelly tone, "It's going where I want it to go, viper. You're along for the ride, so you might as well give in and see where it goes."

"You mean see where you take me," she murmured implacably.

He grinned, a dark chuckle tickling up his throat as he brushed his mouth and sharp fangs over her parted lips.

"Now yer gettin' it, Izzie."

                      _____________________________________

He loved attending black-tie affairs. Not for the ambience or the ability to network with the Parisian and international elite, but for the rush of knowing he had every person in the room in his pocket; knowing he had enough dirt on each socialite and politician to insure cooperation in any endeavor made him feel alive more than anything else. The thundering sense of power left him lightheaded and introspective at times like these, when he was alone with his thoughts in the sleek elevator that ascended up to his office.

Armand de Lioncourt didn't feel like going home to his posh townhouse just yet. He didn't have anything in particular he needed to do in his office, but he just loved to sit in his opulent leather chair and stare out at the City of Lights.

He was alone in the building, and that was fine with him. Walking down the hall towards his office, he reached into his tux jacket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with his gold-plated lighter as he swiped a keycard and gained access to his stately office with the sprawling windows overlooking Paris. The lights from the city glowed like golden crystals and gems. Armand loved the cityscape, considering it the most glorious sight he'd ever laid eyes on. The door clicked quietly behind him as he crossed over to his expensive hand-crafted desk.

He didn't notice the Tupperware container right away, not with his gaze roving the cityscape before he sat in his exquisite leather chair and leaned over to flick the ash of his cigarette into his gold-plated tray. The light blue lid mockingly stood out from the rest of the items on his desk, and he swiveled around to look down at it inquisitively when he finally sensed he wasn't alone.

"Hello, Armand."

The sinuously murmured greeting made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

His eyes jumped up to stare across at the shadowed lounge tucked in the corner of his office. He first was shocked to see an imposing man lounging in the darkness on his leather couch, swallowed by the black of his clothes and making him all the more fearsome as he glared impudently at him. The woman was the next shock. She was rather breathtaking, and his eyes locked on her, since she'd offered the greeting.

She was in a glistening red gown, seeming to emanate the light that buzzed from the cityscape just out the windowsill she was leaning against.

"Who the hell are you?" he managed to bite through his clenched jaw, rising furiously from his chair. "How did you get in here!"

The vicious man in black chuckled gravelly in his throat, his eyes flickering to the woman when she pushed off the windowsill and slinked across to the middle of the room.

"Oh, we let ourselves in through this lovely window. I hope you don't mind," she mused affably and strutted over to lean on the edge of his desk. "I must say, this is quite a view you have. It's beautiful, and it's the only thing you don't own, which is why you sit here most nights looking out on it, isn't it?" she purred, her brow arching at the fact that the cigarette between his fingers was about to burn out without him noticing.

He hissed when the ember burned out between his fingers. Angrily grinding the bud in the ashtray, Armand smoothly reached towards his middle drawer with the diversion.

"Now that is incredibly rude of you, Armand," she admonished and leaned over to stare murderously into his dark eyes. She could smell the gun oil, and even if she didn't, de Lioncourt had a penchant for keeping a Beretta close at hand. "Sit down."

Armand couldn't hide the shiver her venomous hiss sent through him. He dropped down into his chair and stared up at her. "Is this about money?"

Her eyes twinkled mockingly before glancing back at the man still sitting casually behind her. "Oh no, not at all. This has to do with you and your arrogance. I came to repay you in full, Armand," she retorted glibly and smiled. "I'm not here to collect your money, even though you owe me for services rendered…just your life."

"Who the hell are you…?" Armand whispered through a tense throat as he started to sweat.

"I'm Isabela Montecristo." His almond eyes widened and his mouth pressed in against his teeth, fear pumping through his scent. "You had Basset plan a little double cross, but please don't worry about him, he's been taken care of. Now, what's in the container is all that was left of another hired agent of yours," she remarked serenely before gesturing towards the Tupperware. Armand looked thunderstruck and petrified. His eyes widened in terror at her before flicking down at the container. "Open it," she ordered with a dangerous edge.

His swarthy face visibly paled. Armand did as he was told, his brow furrowing when the lid popped open and he looked inside. Slowly he realized he was staring down at a chunk of branded flesh, and hot acidic bile rose in his throat as he dropped the container onto his desk and shoved away from the horrific packaged gore.

"Now I know you have an affinity for collecting heads, but really—a head is such a chore to get through security. Lugging it around isn't very convenient either. It's such an archaic idea: 'Bring me his head!' and all that. It's amusing, but I felt this little piece of Jin was enough," she mused while he choked back his horror. "It took a good while to hack through him. He made such—lovely noises. His cries were quite moving. I'm just sorry you couldn't have been there, Armand—"

"I'll pay you whatever you want!"

She paused and looked incensed. He recoiled when she slinked closer to him, her long legs moving in a blur as she suddenly came to sit on his lap. The man on the couch growled dangerously, and Isabela looked back at him, implacable eyes vicious with silent warning.

Without taking her eyes off of Victor, Isabela leaned in close to Armand and whispered, "There's a funny thing you don't understand, Armand. Money can only take you so far in life. I know, because I have enough of it to never have to work again. I don't do what I do for the money. I do it because I love it. Especially during times like these…"

His eyes flickered up at her mouth when she smile and her teeth began to elongate carnivorously.

Victor watched on with ravenous attention as Isabela's skin began to shimmer in the dim light a coppery sheen. The swarthy mogul cringed back into his chair just as Isabela grabbed his throat and leaned in to watch him contort in slow agony. He seemed to be choking, his limbs locking up and his body jerking spasmodically as poison laced into him. The pheromone zipped through him, shutting down his respiratory system before his nervous system overloaded. He would die from the devastating neurotoxin his own body was producing from the contact with her skin, but not before she delivered one final blow.

Leaning to be nose to nose with the convulsing man, Isabela gave him her kiss of death, smothering the little breath out of him just as his lungs collapsed and his heart burst in his chest. Armand's mouth filled with dark blood as he seized into death, his eyes rolling back into his head and his body wrenching violently one last time.

Isabela spat out the mouthful of gore onto the floor, sighing from the rush of bloodlust as she stood from the dead man's lap after plucking his pocket square out of his tux jacket and using it to dab at her mouth and chest. She concentrated on shifting her fatal pheromone back into dormancy before looking back at the predator turned voyeur.

Victor hummed appreciatively from his seat, his lust for her thick and electric in the air. He was so hard he was having a difficult time reining back his impulse to fuck her right then and there, among yet another corpse slain by her sadistic seduction.

"Oh, he's a member of Le Chevalier!" her delighted gasp snapped his attention back to notice she'd just plucked something out of the dead man's tux.

He raised a brow when he loped over and saw her looking at a polished plaque-like card. "Did you just pilfer the guy's pockets?" he gave her an astonished fangy grin that lit his smoky blue eyes. "You're a cold one, Isabela."

She glanced at him, taken by surprise. That was the first time he'd called her that since he'd sequestered her.

It sent a surge of heat through her.

His hands cupped the curve of her hips before turning her to stare up at him. "Not a hair out of place, and not a spot on your sexy dress," he husked against her temple as he trailed a claw down the curve of her cheek and her throat before catching in the neckline of her gown. "You just know how to kill without a fuss and still make it fun to watch," he purred before kissing her, pleased when she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. He pulled away, savoring the tang of blood still sweetening her mouth, and caressed the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. "Such a vicious little man-eater," he growled and smirked, enjoying the heat of her eyes.

He let her go and strode nonchalantly away from her, his gait relaxed. When he looked back at her, he saw something shift in her, minutely. He figured if there was any time for her to put the brakes on him and make a break for it, now was that time. Instead, she walked up to him, grabbed his clawed hand and silently beckoned him to the window so they could look out on the magnificent view.

He stood behind her and possessively encircled her waist, holding her to him as she leaned back and nuzzled under his jaw.

They stood there in the most comfortable silence, all restlessness quieted within the lapse of time they gazed at the radiant city beyond.

                      _____________________________________

"This place is fucking swanky."

Victor leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips at her puckishly. Isabela ruefully smiled at his brash comment, noticing their waiter's indignant airs as they sat at the china and silverware-clad table.

She brushed a rogue strand behind her ear and fingered the spaghetti strap of her glistening red gown as she mused coolly, "You have to be a card-carrying member to get in. So nice of Armand to take care of our entertainment for tonight, don't you think?"

Victor snorted at that and eyed their surroundings. He felt absolutely out of place. The intimate lighting, posh décor and weird-looking food made him wrinkle his nose. Isabela, on the other hand, was radiant in the scene, not quite part of it, but a striking fixture nonetheless. He stared at her, his hungry gaze roving the delicate column of her neck down to the defined contour of her collarbones and the dip of her clavicle above the swell of her breasts.

Her eyes flickered up to his from the menu, her lips softening coyly. His scent was spicy and thick, making her dizzy with heat for him. Their waiter, dressed in a starched dress shirt with obsidian buttons and pressed slacks came back, his snooty air cooling as he addressed Isabela and broke their smoldering stares.

"Que voudriez-vous commander, mademoiselle?"

Isabela hummed musingly, her eyes flickering over the menu one more time as the tip of her tongue seductively traced her pillowy bottom lip unconsciously. "J'aurai le tartre de veau, avec un verre de merlot," she ordered fluidly, and before Victor knew it she and the froggy-looking waiter were looking at him.

"Steak. Bloody."

The waiter looked from him to Isabela, some little snobbish quirk to his expression as he commented. "Ne préférerait-il pas assortir votre ordre? Malheureusement nous ne sommes pas un grill commun."

Victor arched a brow, his eyes growing flinty, and flashed a humorless sneer as he answered gruffly, "If I wanted veal I'd have ordered it, garçon. Now, why don't you go fetch our orders before I take you back to the kitchen and teach you some manners, got it?"

The waiter blanched and swallowed his embarrassment. "So sorree, monsieur-!"

"And while yer at it, bring the whole bottle of wine, and keep 'em coming," Victor ordered curtly and tilted his head in a dangerous gesture of authority.

The waiter flustered another apology before retreating to do his bidding, leaving the ferals in their private alcove.

Isabela lowered her lids and giggled softly, absolutely impressed with Victor. He was the most unrefined man she'd ever met, but it didn't mean he was ignorant. He liked to hide his brilliance behind a primitive swagger, which made others underestimate his intelligence. Looking over at him, she approvingly admired his handsome features, pleased with his dashing ruggedness in such a fancy setting. He was sans his trench coat, smelling musky but clothed in clean clothes vacant of the usual aromas of his attire; death, blood, and something savage. The tailored black dress shirt fit him exquisitely, embracing the contour of his branny physique but muting the aggressive undertones of his appearance. Only his retracted claws gave him away, but they were practically alone in their little alcove, making it an intimate setting charged with dueling attraction.

Once their meals were served, they ate with gusto, eyeing each other as if they were part of the dessert course.

Victor downed a glass of wine and leaned back in his chair, staring at her provocatively as he idly flicked his fork onto his empty plate. She'd insisted on coming to Le Chevalier, flirting about them both being all dressed up with nowhere to go. He wondered if she'd planned it all, but then he berated himself. She's always in femme fatale mode. Little minx might be behaving, but she knows what she wants. There was no question she was negotiating around him—working to show him a world she'd learned to navigate with finesse, something he didn't have. It was as if she was subversively trying to warn him of the burden and hassle that came with having a pet like her.

He was prepared to take her subliminal posturing in stride. His intentions were still murky in scope, but Victor knew that he wanted her completely, and that was all that was important. He envisioned keeping her somewhere exalted and worthy—somewhere away from the fucking degradation that was regular living, where she'd give herself over without entrapment, kept craving for him as much as he hungered for her. For the first time, Victor wanted to tangle himself in another living being—wanted to feel ownership of a life that went deeper than impulse and gratification. But most of all, he wanted to feel more of her because he felt whole when he held her and she let herself be his. It was addictive how her affectionate touch made him feel exhilarated. Before, only violence and carnage had made him feel like that, but as quick as the spark lit, it burned out within him. When she gave into him, it was more fulfilling than any conquest he'd taken by force.

He wasn't going to part with that.

"You know, I could get used to this," he mused and leaned forward. "This lap of luxury shit isn't so bad. Wouldn't be hard to make it work," his voice lowered seriously, his eyes growing sharp with intent as he measured her reaction.

Isabela tilted her head sardonically and poured herself some more wine. "Living the high life isn't about work, not usually anyway," she chuckled, but the mirth didn't quite reach her exotic eyes. The challenging blaze of the russet rings made the frond green of her eyes shimmer.

Victor grunted snidely. "Your scores have been settled, Izzie. We're done doing things your way," he stated with an imposing edge to his baritone, eyes catching the flicker in hers.

Isabela closed her eyes and took a sip of her glass, feeling riled but not trapped just yet. She knew he was testing her—seeing just how compliant she was willing to be and if she'd push his buttons with some sort of resistance. Brushing a hand over her silky hair, she met his smoky blue eyes and smiled.

"That's not exactly accurate, Victor. Still have to get those government operatives off our case, but that's an easy task I can take care of," she paused, choosing her next words carefully but still keeping her expression alluring and flirty. "Funny. I'd promised myself a vacation once the Nagaraja job was over. I had expected you to come after me, but I hadn't anticipated you being so…resourceful. I was going to go down to South America, spend some time deep in the Amazon—see if you'd be able to track me while I relaxed and played coy; see if you were…worthy, but I figured it'd take you long enough to allow me to tie up loose ends," she remarked and crossed her legs as she idly traced the stem of her wine glass. "I thought about you exhausting every connection you had and still not being able to pin me down; then you came out of nowhere and loped into my life, so effortlessly…made me feel so silly. I underestimated you, and I should regret it…but this has been much better than anything I could've planned, lover," she mused candidly, her eyes capturing his in a scintillating look.

Victor stared at her. Her candor made his bones itch with something primal, an overwhelming sense of pride and triumph surging through him. Triumph made his skin hot, but he kept staring into her eyes. She wanted him to feel that; make him feel secure so she could turn the tables. Grasping at straws. She was a hellion, cunning to a fault, but he wasn't going to play coy. He was incapable of it, but there was nothing he could think of that would guarantee him getting what he wanted: Her, unconditionally. She was too wild to keep in a gilded cage…and he was too savage to compromise.

"That doesn't sound like it would've been much of a vacation," he muttered instead and crossed his arms, staring at her impassively.

"Well it wouldn't have been for you. That's the point," she joked, pouring herself more wine. "You're good for the cold, I'm not. I could live in the Gobi desert without a problem, and you'd go mad from the heat," she quipped and sipped her wine glass. "I should've figured it wouldn't be so easy. I think I'm incapable of taking vacations," she mused and snickered softly.

"'Cept for this," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. "What the hell do you consider a vacation?" he snorted, watching her as she seemed to relax while he grew more and more agitated.

She eyed him, feeling the edge of his temper as he sat across from her, fuming silently over something. It was ironic; just when one of them was growing complacent, the other would grow tense. It was as if they had to constantly be on guard with each other—keep each other on their toes just to feel a semblance of comfort. But then it made sense. Neither of them were complacent animals. They'd both struggled and learned to trust no one, but now they were constantly circling each other, riled and cautious, unable to size each other up. It was yet another fallacy to her: they wanted to trust each other, but couldn't, because it wasn't in their natures. Isabela didn't know what he was thinking, but could feel the tension in him, as if he was waiting for her to turn around and run for it. Meanwhile, she was actually doing the opposite; wanting to stay close to him. But then she hated it when he became the lackadaisical predator, watching her get wound up and agitated. It just wasn't in their natures to end up quietly content with each other, cuddled up and keeping each other warm with their guards down.

Victor would never trust her, and she would never trust him. There are no companions for the devil, not even his own reflection…

They were incapable of loving each other. The thought struck her, and it stung.

Tracing the rim of her glass, she mused, "Not killing anyone. No surreptitiousness of any kind; just leisure free of my talents; being able to walk around with just myself—not playing a role; my guard completely down without a second thought. But we can't do that."

"We?" he raised a derisive brow. "Speak for yourself, sweetheart. This has been a pretty fuckin' good vacation for me, so far," he snorted.

She hummed. "This isn't a vacation. I've enjoyed myself way too much," she smiled sultrily, but a pinch of sadness tugged at her lips. "Last vacation I took was more of a hiatus, and the vacation before that was a complete disaster," she reminisced, shaking her head.

"What, couldn't find a 'worthy' enough sugar daddy?" he questioned sharply, his eyes hard and impatient, waiting for the other shoe to fucking drop.

Her delicate brow arched. "No. Because I woke up in a coffin, buried six feet under ground," she answered matter-of-factly and aloofly adjusted the napkin on her lap when the waiter came in and placed her dessert in front of her. After she took a bite of the scrumptious pastry, she looked over at Victor, who was staring at her as if she'd been joking. "What? Never happened to you?"

"Didn't know it was a natural occurrence," he muttered snidely, his gaze as incredulous as he'd show. "Guess its right up there with "lost my luggage" and "got stuck at the airport", huh," he sarcastically sneered, shoving the saccharine-smelling pastry away from him and across her end of the table.

"Well with that nasty attitude I'm not gonna tell you about it," she primly stated and continued to eat her dessert.

"Like hell you aren't!" he growled.

She rolled her eyes. "Lets just say that vacationing in Transylvania in the summer isn't something a feral should do…" when he raised a brow and grunted for her to go on, she sighed. "I was on my way to the Black Sea during the summer of 1887. I'd spent some time in Budapest…had to get away suddenly and wanted to travel east, which forced me to travel into Transylvania. I guess I should say I was running away…had some trouble in a small Hungarian town.

My carriage had suffered a breakdown, so I had to stay in some town while the local blacksmith made repairs. Word spread, and I was offered homestead by one of the rich sons of the prefecture judge. The boy was accommodating enough, so I accepted the offer and moved into his home. Seems I ruffled one of his admirer's feathers, cuz the little bitch took it upon herself to expose me at this dinner party," she aloofly mentioned, absently slicing slivers of the dessert while she glanced up at him.

"Didn't help that the night before she'd followed me and seen me kill some mugger in one of the back alleys," she mused, "She accused me of being a vampire, of all things. I'd laughed it off, until she'd slapped me in front of the ballroom filled with guests and shoved a silver crucifix in my face. Instinct kicked in," she shrugged, and drank some more of her wine, intending to trail off at that.

"And?" he groused, a slow smirk playing on his lips. "Can't leave me riveted, sweetness," he purred sardonically.

She smiled. "I grabbed the crucifix and shoved it down her throat, to the horror of all the guests and my host, of course," she smirked ruefully. "It was quite funny, now that I think about it. I really don't know what came over me," she shook her head cynically. "Funnily enough, that wasn't what got me buried 6-feet underground," she tapped her chin, gaze shifting thoughtfully.

Victor grunted, intrigued but not wanting to rush her on. He watched her expression quirk at some memory, her lips pursing before softening tenderly.

"I'd escaped before they could think to capture me, and stumbled upon a Romani village on the opposite hillside from the town. They were more of a traveling carnival, but their encampment was quite grand. One of their carnival attractions was a wolf-boy. I heard about it…and went to the sideshow. I'd never heard of such a thing…was curious to see if there was someone like me. Of course this was before I knew what I was" she paused and drank some wine.

Victor was listening, watching her intently.

"Sure enough, the wolf-boy was a caged feral. He couldn't have been over 18…just a cub. He had an iron collar around his neck…it dug into the scruff of his neck, and he was filthy. I was horrified. After the carnival ended and everyone bedded down, I snuck in to the tent where they kept the cub, and broke him out, but he was terrified of me. He knew I was like him, and he was so afraid…I tried rationalizing with him, but he resisted and started howling for help. I was caught, and the whole village came out. They just knew I was an animal too. After a big mess, the town banished the Romani for bringing dangerous freaks," she bitterly laughed, "and they took me to the gallows. The boy…they decapitated him in the middle of the town square, right in front of me…he was staring at me as they lowered the ax. They would've done the same to me, but I'd managed to touch one of the town elders. He bickered with the others, and managed to convince them to at least send me to the gallows…"

Victor remembered the ordeal he'd suffered when he and Jimmy were just a pair of runts on their own; remembered the torture—tied to that stake and left out like a fucking scarecrow, having holy water thrown in his face in the hopes that it would burn through him. His eyes darkened with the memory and focused on Isabela, absolutely incensed that she'd suffered the same, and irrationally wishing he could've killed for her.

"I then understood superstition; a woman draining a man in an alley at night? A werewolf-like boy caged in a sideshow? Creatures of folklore alive and well in Transylvania," she shook her head again, a hint of disdain in her eyes. "After the stool went out from under me, I felt a pop," her voice was faraway, contemplative. "White hot pain flooded my brain before it went black. I don't remember feeling anything…then the next thing I knew I was waking up in a wooden coffin," her eyes flickered up to his, an awkward smile tugging her lips. "I had to claw through the wood and crawl up the fresh dirt to the surface. I was lucky it wasn't a cold night; the soil would've hardened instantly after it was compounded on top of me. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy…" a vicious smirk appeared slowly as she added, "I went back to the town, and burned it to the ground…took the executioner's severed head and placed it on a pike as a grave marker for the boy…and cut my vacation short."

His smile was fierce, a surge of pride warming him, making him hot for her. He wished he could've done the same to the cowards from that Canadian settlement, pay them back for the days of agony and misery—

The image of the little frail with the cornsilk hair popped into his head, unbidden. His thoughts got murky then, remembering his first kiss, and the subsequent horror he'd suffered because of it; he and Jimmy's first attempt to live in society after he'd gone through the change had been a complete failure because of him…he'd been so embarrassed he hadn't told the runt about having kissed her…and Jimmy had played along, never mentioning the event ever again.

"I guess after 453 years, you've been through all sorts of shit," Victor rumbled offhandedly, his gaze distracted.

He didn't notice how she stiffened from head to toe.

Isabela stared wide-eyed at him, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under her. She'd never told him how old she was, let alone thought he'd ever find out for himself. She had made sure not to disclose too much—always speaking in general terms about her past; for him to know her exact age left her thunderstruck. The wary shock made her hackles raise, and Victor sensed the shift, his eyes sharpening back to her and his brow quirking questioningly.

"…Yes, all sorts of things," she replied, trying to regain her composure as she drank the last of her wine, and frowned at the empty bottle. "…After that, I decided to take a trip to America…change of scenery…" her eyes focused on his, trying to quell her own anxiety and anger, hoping he couldn't pin her motives down.

Grunting, Victor eyed her, unsure of her sudden cool veneer. It faintly registered to him that he didn't really remember what exactly he'd just muttered. Something about going through all sorts of shit? Why would she go into ice-queen mode over that?

"Mademoiselle, monsieur" their waiter suddenly appeared next to their table, shifting both their thoughts away. The froggy bastard was holding a gold gilt box. "Compliments of Le Chevalier, you have private access to ze exclusive wine cellar. Would you care to partake?" As he pitched, he opened the gilt box and revealed an ornate elevator key cushioned in red velvet.

Isabela glanced at Victor before smoothly answering, "That sounds delightful. We'd like to enjoy the amenities by ourselves, if that's all right."

"But of'course," the waiter drawled, pulling out her seat—to the annoyance of Victor—and leading the way through the opulent restaurant.

Her mind was racing. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run. Anxiety arrested her impulses and made her appear cool to everyone around them, except Victor. The damned feral knew her! This whole time, he'd been manipulating her and setting her up for…for what? She was confused. Utterly confused, and it made her angry. Could he be working for someone? How the hell would he know, and just what did he know about her? Her mind flooded with images, recollections of their first meeting, anything she thought could lead to an answer—a motive. She needed time to think…needed to just—

His hand snaked around the crook of her elbow and held her close to his side, her surprise registering in her eyes when she looked up into his chiseled features. He could smell her tension, and she was sure he was going to sense something in her, but Victor leaned close to her ear and murmured, "Stop walking ahead."

Her lips softened as he folded her arm in his and escorted her, not for any sense of gallantry, but because he wanted every damned blueblood around them to know she belonged to him. She looked radiant in her glistening gown, exotic and alluring. She seemed too distracted to realize everyone was looking at her out of the corners of their eyes, as if to look upon her would be a penalty. Victor liked that, and liked that they now looked at him as the only man worthy of touching her.

Their waiter led them to a single stainless steel and gold-gilded elevator that was flanked by a concierge podium and a single dapperly-dressed attendant. The waiter handed the gilt box to the attendant and excused himself. The attendant greeted them, and explained their accommodations.

Victor leaned close to her and muttered, "Where the hell are we going, Fort Knox?"

While her mind was riddled, she managed a small smile. "It's one of the oldest wine cellars in all of Europe. It's underground to ensure the fermenting process is very rich…they only let elite guests down to pull and taste any wine they wish. We'll have it all to ourselves for the night, if we so wish," she trailed off, her eyes lowering sensually.

Victor hummed, his nostrils flaring at her heady scent. He was already turned on beyond belief when the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. The attendant stepped in, and inserted the key, instructing them to simply turn it to the right to descend to the cellar, and to the left to ascend back to the foyer.

They both stepped in and Isabela turned the key. The doors slid shut, and they began to descend slowly. Victor's hand descended down her back to trail her spine, the stroke of his claws sending shivers through her. Swinging around to face her he pulled her against him, his hands pawing down her curves.

"I've wanted to fuck you bad for too goddamned long tonight," he husked against her lips before engulfing her mouth with his. Isabela's head swam, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, even when she recoiled inwardly with smoldering rage.

Victor meant to keep her. Always had; that was clear to her now. A furious vice constricted tightly in her chest, even when he pushed her up against the elevator's wall and tangled his hand in her hair, tipping her head to the side so he'd have access to her slender neck. She gasped, clutching at his powerful shoulders as he roughly kissed her neck and nipped at her pulse, worrying the tender flesh soothingly. His other hand held her by the small of her back, lining her hips to be flush with his.

She was addicted to him…he'd made her crave every one of his touches, sensual and rough, all to keep her pliant. She felt consumed by him, and for the first time, she was afraid.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Victor pulled away, leaving them panting and pressed against each other. Her lust for him was like static current in the air, a heat that made his blood rush in his veins.

Isabela was thankful it masked her intentions.

"How 'bout a nightcap before we continue?" she purred, caressing her hands down his pectorals and pushing against him.

Victor chuckled and back stepped, letting her slink around him towards the open elevator doors. "Fine by me." He responded with a gravelly tone, his eyes carnally fixed on her as she walked out of the elevator. Making sure they'd be alone, he went to follow her out into the Romantic-decorated parlor. He looked around at the lavish marble-tiled floors and rich wooden paneling with inset wine racks from the floor to the ceiling. A circular granite-topped buffet table sat in the middle of the wide parlor, and glass cases glimmered with stockpiled champagne bottles. He whistled as he stepped out of the threshold, his eyes surveying the Swarovski crystal wine goblets and flutes nestled on the mantle along the far wall. "Fancy…"

"Yes, quite…are you sure you want to stay down here…and have a drink with me?" she mused, her back to him as she surveyed the opulence and reckoned it should hold him over.

He snorted, loping towards the closest wine rack. "As long as you admit that this is a pretty fuckin' nice arrangement we've got—!" he turned when he sensed her quick advance, taken by surprise when he saw her copper-shimmered skin and determined expression. Her hands grasped the sides of his face, and instantaneous pain radiated through him, blazing excruciating sensations of agony into the very marrow of his bones.

He roared, chocking when she clamped her hands deftly around his throat, holding on with all her strength as he thrashed and grabbed her shoulders, trying to wrench her away. His knees buckled when the poisonous sensation constricted his lungs, the full force of her pheromone knocking him back as she fought to wring away from him. She jerked away and fell to her side, gasping and shaking as she watched Victor fall to his hands and knees, his claws extending to screech across the tiled floor as he struggled to regain his breath.

Victor thrashed wildly, his jaw clenched and foamy spittle seething out of his gnashed teeth as he writhed towards her. His muscles locked up and he fell hard to his side instead, his arm lashing out towards her as he gripped his chest. He could feel his heart straining against his constricting arteries, and just as he lunged dangerously close to the stunned femme fatale, the pressure tore his aorta. His heart burst inside his chest.

He choked and hacked up blood through his clenched teeth, his eyes wide and wild with agony and fury as he collapsed, his body convulsing with the throes of her poisoning.

His eyes feverishly locked onto hers as he stopped moving, a dim awareness still backfiring in his mind as his vision blurred on her.

Fucking…bitch!

                      _____________________________________

Isabela watched Victor die in front of her, by her own hand. Even in the throes of death, he'd tried ripping her apart, fighting until his heart burst from the strain in his arteries. When his convulsions died away and she couldn't hear his lungs struggle for breath, she averted her eyes, crawling and struggling to get to her feet.

The terror in her chest became a heavy knot of pain, her body still shaking from the adrenalin and the aftereffects of using poison. She dug her talons into her palms, furious and hurt, but unable to think rationally why. She stumbled to her feet, wavering. The amount of poison she'd laced her skin with was toxic to her, stunting her stamina for laboriously long minutes. Propping herself against the pillared wall, she covered her hand over her face, fighting the nausea that threatened to double her over. A shaky breath rattled through her, forcing her to shudder and lean against the wall for support.

I guess after 453 years, you've been through all sorts of shit…Her mind replayed his comment, along with all his carnal affections and dangerous promises, leaving her feeling confused and furious all over again.

Victor Creed had miraculously tracked her down and thrown her life into a tumultuous spiral where she couldn't tell what was up or down. All along she'd thought it was just payback for having used him and left him like a cheap fuck in Vegas, but now she knew it went deeper than that. He'd wanted to capture her; deconstruct her whole being by any means necessary, including seducing her. And she'd been stupid enough to fall for it all. Every leer, touch, and carnal delight had been for the expressed purpose of luring her into his grasp to be torn apart. He'd played dumb for the last time, unwittingly revealing how much he knew about her and making her strikingly aware that he was the only living creature to know her mind, body, and soul. It had all been a game, and unbeknownst to her, she'd been ensnared by it. She'd craved everything about Victor, including his dominance, and that terrified her.

But…why did he let me go? She suddenly questioned. He'd had her right where he wanted: in his cabin in the middle of nowhere atop a snowy mountain. It made no sense. If he'd wanted to break her down, then why would he have let her go? Why would he have trotted along with her…giving her enough freedom to genuinely want to be with him? She felt stupid, various assumptions and suppositions shouting for dominance in her head while the animal side of her seethed at her for even caring—He made a fool out of you!

Fighting her anger, she managed to stalk into the elevator, desperate to get the hell away from all the confusion and rage, but when she went to turn the key to ascend back to the foyer, she was shocked to find it missing.

Thunderstuck, she looked around, but there was no sign of it in the elevator. An icy feeling trickled down her spine as she looked out to the parlor, realizing Victor must've taken it and slipped it into his pocket before he'd gotten out. She felt the blood drain out of her face as she stepped back out of the elevator and turned to face the prone form, shrouded in black. His head was still turned in the direction she'd been slumped, so she exhaled a slow breath and walked back to him, thankful that she wouldn't have to look into his now cold blue eyes and not see the vibrant spark in them.

Crouching slowly, she kneeled down next to him. Her fingers were cold as she reached under him to slip into his pockets. His skin was still warm through his clothes, and his scent was still musky and wild. Her heart wrenched in her chest as she tentatively dug into his pocket and felt the edge of the elevator key. Just as she was going to resolve to roll him onto his side to dig the key out, she yelped in shock when her wrist was seized by a deft grip.

In a flash, Victor rolled towards her and grabbed her by the throat.

Isabela's shocked expression was fleeting as he slammed her down to the tiled floor. The exertion however, forced him to cough up the bile and blood that had clogged in his lungs, allowing her to push him away with a kick to his chest. Victor fell hard onto his back while Isabela rolled and crawled away before she realized her throat was slashed. She gripped her throat and fought the choking sensation as she tried to concentrate on healing. Her heart skipped several beats as her adrenalin shot up, making her hypersensitive and aware of Victor's erratic pulse. His regenerated heart was pounding like a backfiring car engine, his blood zipping like quicksilver through his veins. As soon as he'd grabbed her wrist, she'd felt his heart start again, shocking her from the sheer macabre novelty of it.

"You fucking bitch!" Victor snarled as he spun onto his side and crouched onto his hands and knees, spitting the blood that clung to his mouth and tinged his teeth before lunging for her ankle and hauling her backwards. Isabela cried out when the side of her face slammed against the marble floor as he yanked her back. She tried wringing out of his grip, but he dug his elongated claws into the meat of her calf, earning a hiss of pain from her before she kicked her other leg out and connected with his solar plexus. He roared, retaliating by hauling and wringing her away so violently that she slid across the floor and into one of the champagne cases. Swearing and falling back on his haunches, Victor glared down at the stiletto heel embedded in his torso before yanking it out with a shout of pain.

Isabela struggled to climb out of the mess of shattered glass and oozing bottles of champagne, hobbling on her one good heel before yanking her shoes off and ignoring the stinging bite of glass crushed underfoot.

Snarling at her, Victor climbed to his feet. "You motherfucking whore!" he lunged at her, catching Isabela by surprise as he grabbed her with both hands by the throat and slammed her against the closest wall. "You wanna kill me—like one of your fucking playthings? Huh? You treacherous cunt!" he roared lividly at her, squeezing her throat and hauling her up so her feet dangled off the floor. She dug her talons into his arms, breathlessly fighting the vice-like grip threatening to collapse her trachea. "Try to kill me, you venomous bitch—! I'm gonna snap your fuckin' neck!" he seethed, incensed and irate that she'd tried to escape by killing him like he was a pathetic goon. Isabela was taken aback by the fierce incredulity in his eyes and the waves of hostility that poured off of him. "What the fuck? Stop looking at me like I'm outta my fucking mind—Oof!" he barked in her face before grunting from the swift knee she jammed at his groin.

He let her go and doubled over, giving Isabela the opportunity to drive her knee up against his jaw before she slipped in the glass and landed hard on her side. Victor hit the ground with a guttural snarl, rolling onto his side and shaking off the blow before he earned a solid kick that propelled him across the floor to slam back-first into a wine rack. The mahogany panels splintered from the force of his frame crashing into it, bottles crashing around him and splashing him with cabernets and merlots that mingled with the scent of blood and acrid fury.

"Give me the key," Isabela hissed slowly, her eyes narrowed on him as she pulled shards of glass out of her arm.

Victor climbed to his feet, his shoulders hunched as he ignored the glass and splinters that dusted off of him. He bared his fangs and went on the attack. Now on her game, Isabela side stepped and used his own momentum to propel him into the champagne case she'd crawled out of minutes before. Bellowing with rage, Victor whirled and slashed his lethal claws across her stomach, narrowly missing disemboweling her as she lunged backwards and bounced off the pillar behind her.

A wild punch caused his fist to smash a chunk of marble out of the wall right by her head, leading Isabela to sidle away and hit him with a crane-style fist jab in the left kidney. Victor roared and swung his elbow around, clocking her on the side of the head and driving her to the ground. It was now his turn to kick her across the room and into a marble wall that buckled with a loud thwack! Isabela cried out and nursed her side, feeling her lacerated ribs mend slowly as she panted and glared at him.

"Whatta fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted at her, his eyes wild and his expression contorted with unbridled fury as he stalked towards her.

"Stay the hell away from me you goddamned bastard!" she screamed at him, stunning him. Snarling, she elongated her carnivorous teeth at him and vaulted on all fours to a vantage point in the havoc-ridden parlor. "I want that key. Give it to me, and I'll let you live," she ordered with furious chill in her hissing voice, the russet rings in her eyes dilating with her rage.

"Let me live? Hah! You gone bat-shit crazy—?"

"Shut up and give me the fucking key, Victor—!"

"Not a fuckin' chance, bitch!" he snarled with a nasty grin, his bloodlust making him sadistic. "Yah better give me a good reason why you're acting like yer on the rag, right now," his voice darkened as he prowled dangerously towards her, "or I'm gonna show you what its like to have your goddamned heart crushed when I tear it out and show it to you."

"Your heart wasn't crushed, you moron, it burst. You can at least try and understand the difference, you fucking savage!" she barked scathingly, grabbing a crystal vase and hurling it at him.

The vase exploded against the wall when Victor dodged it. He whistled at her fiery temper. "Got a saucy mouth on yah, huh Isabela," he sneered at her, "Now why dontcha use your big girl words and tell me what the fuck's gotten into you?"

"I'm tired of you playing the dumb fuck!" she hissed in a measured snarl. "What do you want with me?" the question made him furrow his brow. "How long have you been lying to me!"

"What the fuck are you talking about—?"

"For fuck's sake, Victor…I won't be taken for a damned fool!" She suddenly lunged at him, causing a melee to ensue, with them yelling and tearing at each other.

Victor fended her off until she did a fancy maneuver where she pinned his arm behind his back and tried reaching into his slacks pocket for the elevator key. He thwarted her by slamming back against the edge of the buffet and whirling to grab her by the throat again. She thrashed against him before slashing the side of his face and jabbing the heel of her hand against his nose. His eyes watered and he let her go, furiously cradling his broken nose and backhanding her with enough force to knock her over the buffet. Isabela landed on her belly, her face throbbing from the blow while Victor set his nose and grunted nasally.

Gathering herself up, Isabela scurried up and prowled like a lizard on all fours to get a running start up the circumference of the wall before vaulting off and aiming a high kick at him. Victor jolted, instinctively sidestepping and grabbing her in mid air before flinging her across the parlor into the wine racks. Her own momentum propelled her bone crushingly into the racks, bottles and shelves shattering around her. Cold wine cascaded down her body, causing her to yelp and arch away as it stung all the slices that were mending shut along her back and shoulders.

Making a sharp noise of pain as she forced herself out of the stacks, Isabela landed on her hands and knees, glaring daggers and panting at him through her tussled hair as she watched Victor advance towards her. He crouched down in front of her and grabbed her by the back of her hair, yanking her head up to look at him. His fangs were gleaming at her as he snarled, "How dare you double cross me—think you could poison me? Leave me down here while you run like a scared frail? Did you think I would let you go?" he shouted, "You're fucking MINE! Since the moment I saw yah you were mine!"

She defiantly stared into his smoky blue eyes before suddenly throttling him away from her. She pounced on him and went for his throat, sinking her teeth to tear into his neck. Victor arched up and hollered a guttural sound of surprise and pain, his hips slamming up against her. Isabela recoiled, releasing his throat and staring incredulously down at him. His arousal was pressing against her with urgency, shocking her long enough to be tossed over him. They both rolled to face each other and tangled in a flurry of blows.

Isabela kicked away from him just as his hand lunged up, claws catching on the seam of her gown and tearing it up to her hip. She shouted in anger and slashed at his chest, tearing jagged lashes across his dress shirt that momentarily welled with blood before the wounds heeled over. Victor laughed and grabbed her, wrestling her up the closest wall before shoving between her legs so she couldn't kick at his family jewels again. She puffed her chest and thrashed against him, seething venomously, "You stupid prick! Let me go, you goddamned motherfuck—mmh!" He cut her off by boorishly kissing her, smothering her curses while he simultaneously slammed her hands above her head and held them there as he ground his hard-on against her.

She fought him, her eyes furiously narrowed at him while his crested with deviance. When he pulled away, Isabela tried chomping her teeth at him, but he leaned just out of her reach and growled chauvinistically at her. "Promise to fight like this every time, alright Izzie? The make-up sex'll be fucking amazing," he suddenly purred, nudging his stubborn arousal against her.

She gasped, her eyes widening. "Are you making fun of me? Is this all a fucking joke to you? Or are you delusional enough to think I really do belong to you—that you can keep me?" she spat, "I might've been through a lot of shit after 453 years, but I've never dealt with someone so wretched and bestially stupid as you, regardless of what you've learned about me!"

Victor recoiled from the irate barrage she snarled at him, her words like a slap to the face. He'd tipped his hand, and she was furious that he'd dug up her past—that he'd been using it against her. Baring his fangs, he hissed, "So the cat's out of the bag, so what? We've gotten this far, why not just give it up already? Instead of acting like a stupid fuckin' cunt!" he slammed her against the wall. "Yer mine! The more you fight, the more you prove it to be true, Izzie—!"

She lashed out, lunging at him. "I will never belong to you! You're a fucking worthless animal too stupid to know how utterly insignificant you are! Too goddamned afraid to see how pathetic and lonesome you really are—how you'll forever be because you don't deserve anyone! You don't even deserve hatred you're so wretched! I could never belong to you!" she bellowed in a vehement tirade, her eyes blazing with ardor at him.

Something shifted inside of Victor, fierce and savage. His sight narrowed in, red bleeding into the edges of his mind as a rabid rage tore through him with bestial force. His clawed hands snapped around her neck and squeezed, his fury chocking his snarl in his throat as he shook her brutally before hauling her up and flinging her into a nearby curio.

Isabela crashed to the floor while the curio collapsed all around her in a shattered heap. Before she could regain her wits, Victor hauled her up by the back of the hair and swung her across the parlor to slam against the edge of the buffet table. She doubled over the cool granite counter, her breath robbed from her lungs as she struggled against the vice-like grip at the back of her neck that kept her head pressed down on the table. The waves of savage bloodlust were radiating off of him, along with the scent of rage burning out of his pores. She furiously kicked at him, shouting ravenously and clawing for purchase on the tabletop before Victor shoved hard at her legs.

"You're gonna be mine," he seethed darkly against her and started forcing her knees up and apart. "You'll be mine—I'll make you scream you're mine!" he growled in a hushed breath as he started hiking up her gown.

Isabela's struggles became frenetic; her swears and curses melting together in a flurry of venomous snarling. She managed to arch up and kick back at him, earning a growl and a short grappling session before he wrestled her down to sprawl flat on top of the buffet.

"Go to hell! I'll fucking rip your balls off, you bastard!" she bellowed as she tried to slink off the table's edge. Victor snarled and gripped her thighs, hauling her back to the edge of the table and fighting her writhing form as he worked his trousers undone. Isabela held onto the edge of the table and pulled, managing to get her knees planted on the tabletop in order to try propelling herself off the edge, but Victor yanked her violently by her hips back down and tore at her panties, snapping them roughly off of her before tugging and forcing her hips into place.

She cried out, a gasp catching in her throat when he pressed his cock against her from behind. He growled, rutting against her and groaning possessively while she froze and arched from the onslaught of sensations. His hand curved down her belly and cupped her crotch, rubbing his fingers possessively along her dampening sex, claws scrapping her silky skin.

Victor groaned at the feel of her under him. "Look how wet you are for me," he purred darkly against her temple before chuckling contumely, "all that talk means shit when I got you like this, begging for my cock!" He yanked her further down and brushed against her tender flesh, and Isabela gasped. The cold metal of his dog tags were dangling and dragging across her back, a sharp contradiction to the heat of his body enveloping her. Victor fisted his hand in her hair and pulled, forcing her to turn her head and snarl in pain.

In retaliation, she bucked back against him so that her tailbone connected with his groin with bruising force. His hiss of pain turned into a scornful growl and curse as he slammed her head down on the table and tore into the side of her dress. Isabela's temple throbbed with radiating pain, leaving her dazed. She groaned and struggled limply as he held her and forced himself into her sheath in one brusque stroke.

His groan was hoarse against her ear while she cried out in surprise, her body stiffening as he dug his fingers into her waist when his other hand fisted in the back of her hair. She tried wrenching free, but Victor held tightly to her and thrust into her roughly. With every following thrust, he grew bolder in his dominance, setting a fierce pace as he fucked her hard against the table. Isabela gripped the edge of the table in front of her and arched against her will, her body relishing the brutality while the rest of her seethed. When she felt his mouth bite down on the tendon connecting neck and shoulder, she mewled and grew taut under him, despite herself.

He purred at the sound, snaking his hand around her throat to turn her face towards him so he could claim her in a sloppy kiss. She bit him, slicing his bottom lip. He squeezed her throat and kissed her again, this time forcing his tongue into her mouth. Instead of the teeth he'd expected to pierce down, her tongue twirled against his, deepening the kiss. He parted from the kiss and nipped her jaw, aiming his next thrust upwards. When he felt her shiver with pleasure, Victor slid her down the table and slipped his forearm under her, pressing her back against his torso and holding her so she'd have to hang onto him and brace a hand on the table for purchase.

Isabela groaned with need, completely at his mercy as he dominated her. Her instincts were a muddled tangle of desire, rage, and conflict, but she couldn't deny the powerful lust her feral side was smoldering with. Victor tugged on the neckline of her dress, ripping a spaghetti strap clean off as he forced her bodice down to free her breasts to his greedy touch. His claws pinched her supple skin when he fondled a heavy breast, fucking her wantonly while she arched against him and cried out.

Victor was drunk with savage desire, completely high on his rage and lust for her. She was totally submissive—couldn't even reciprocate his thrusts or do anything to stop him, and she was getting off on it. Her body was yielding to him with pleasure, and the sounds she made were making him frenetic with need.

The feral current between them was tantalizing, scorching. Their animalistic rapport made their awareness narrow to the carnal sensations of each other's bodies, and their mutual rage for each other was a powerful aphrodisiac that made their coupling all the more explosive.

Victor began to quicken his pace, his ragged grunts mingling with the sounds of her soft moans and whimpers as she tossed her head back, desperate for him to mark her as his. Victor shoved her down to the table and yanked her knees off the counter, balancing her precariously on his pounding hips while she sidled unsteadily for purchase on the buffet.

The friction of the smooth cool granite against her breasts while he press against the bundle of nerve endings deep inside her made her buckle from the onslaught of pleasure, her climax rocking through her. She grew taut and arch sinuously, crying out his name with starved passion. Victor moaned from the rippling pressure that flooded her sheath, strangling his throbbing sex. He hunched over her, his tawny-clawed hands splaying on either side of her as he drove into her shuddering and eager body with several desperate thrusts before he shouted his climax. Her hands slid to rest over his, gripping them as he groaned with savage completion before burrowing his nose against the side of her neck.

He panted softly against her before grunting and reluctantly leaning back to look down at her. Isabela was watching him over her shoulder, hair tossed in a tussled cascade all about, lips bruised and parted with carnivorous teeth peeking at him, and her frondy green eyes half-lidded. He growled at the sight, prowling down over her and brushing his vicious mouth tenderly over her shoulder. Isabela sighed wistfully as he stood straight and hauled her up to press back against him.

She shivered, his sex still inside of her as he brought her up for a feral kiss, their lips, tongues, and teeth brushing passionately and tenderly. She hooked her arm to pull him close by the back of the neck while he caressed her breasts with possessively gentle strokes of his fingers before dragging his palms down to encircle her waist. The thrum of their pulses and the heat of each other's scent was soothing as the endorphins began to ebb away.

"Victor…" she murmured breathlessly against his mouth when their lips parted, her eyes glowing at him with heady intoxication.

He nudged his head against hers, exhaling softly through his nose. "I had an old contact dig up what he could find, but he didn't find much…" he rumbled, his expression pitiless, but his eyes earnest and blazing with heat. Her eyes focused intently, seemingly reading into his soul.

He wasn't lying, at least his scent wasn't, nor were his eyes for that matter. She knew he had to know more, and that he would never tell her just what he knew, but there was something reassuring in that. Just as she'd learned about him, he'd learned about her. She didn't have to worry about him double crossing her to a third party, because she would never do it to him.

He stood back and let her slide down his body, turning her to face him, but still held her close as he sat her on the counter's edge. She was half naked, smelling of blood, alcohol, and sex. He figured he didn't fair much better, but it made him swell with savage accomplishment nonetheless.

When he tucked himself back into his trousers, Isabela reached to tenderly brush her fingertips across his cheek and along his mouth, her feral teeth retracting back as she gazed at him.

"I don't know what to feel…" she whispered.

He watched her for long moments, incapable of answering. What he felt wasn't something he'd ever talk about, but he knew for sure that he felt bound to her. She'd tried to fucking kill him, but his stubborn will still surged with the need to make her his.

"S'got nothing to do with anything."

She stared at him, not modest in the least that he'd now figuratively and literally stripped her naked. Her eyes grew sad, and for the first time, he knew it was for him—for some alien concept that he was too thickheaded to comprehend and that she pitied him for. He felt a wave of anger rise in him, but it was snuffed out when she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.

"You're so infuriating, Victor…"

"I know."

She snickered against his chest, shaking her head at his acerbic tone. "What do we do now?"

His clawed fingers combed through her tussled mane, the gesture meant to be possessive but to her felt more like a soothing caress. He snorted into the top of her hair, surveying the rampant havoc they'd created in the once lavish wine parlor. "We get the fuck outta here before they give us the bill, that's what," he grumbled with sardonic humor in his tone as he tipped her chin up and gazed down at her aloofly amused expression.

"Well, yes of course that," she mused, "but I wasn't talking about that."

He huffed through his nose. "Why's everything gotta turn into an itinerary with you. We ate, we fought, and we fucked; what's next has gotta be fun enough to not hafta plan for it," he gruffly purred as he pulled her bodice up and adjusted it over her breasts.

Isabela hooked her arms around his neck and held him close, pulling him down to be nose to nose with her.

"It wasn't personal."

His head tilted dangerously as he grunted, "Yeah it was."

Her mouth clenched and her eyes softened. "Not towards you."

"Sure it was viper. If it wasn't personal, you'd've tried it a long time ago," he bluntly declared.

Isabela's eyes intensified, russet rings narrowing. "If it had been personal, I would've taken your head clean off—!"

"But you didn't," he smirked. "Same way I didn't snap you in fuckin' half. It's very personal, Izzie. Goes beyond it even," he growled provocatively before kissing her. He pulled away suddenly and flashed an impish grin as he teased, "Now promise you'll make it up to me, or I might just fuckin' change my mind."

Isabela laughed. "Maybe," she smiled, "if you promise to spoil me like this more often, lover."

Victor's brow arched with intrigue, his fangs denting his lips as his vicious eyes twinkled with primal smugness.

                      _____________________________________

He couldn't believe how long they were down there. He hated having to stand by at the beck and call of the card-carrying pompous elite, especially when it meant he had to stand by the elevator to the wine cellar and wait for them to come back up. Le Chevalier didn't take customer service lightly, and the wait staff was the most overworked in all cosmopolitan Europe. He sighed and looked around the foyer and along the dining hall, watching all the blue bloods and obscenely rich stuff their faces and prattle on.

The concierge caught his attention, gesturing to the elevator as it dinged twice to announce the arrival of the intimidating couple. Standing at attention adjacent to the elevator, he inwardly cheered, praying they'd be toasted enough to get their coats and hit the wet pavement. When the elevator doors opened, however, he and the whole main floor seemed to freeze in shock at the spectacle that stepped out of the stainless steel threshold.

The woman's once glistening red gown was now a tattered wine-stained mess, with claw marks gouged down the side of the dress and a seam torn open all the way to her hip. The imposing behemoth next to her was barely clothed, his ragged dress shirt torn across the chest and the knit of his slacks frayed and tattered. They were stained with blood, looking as if they'd been mauled by a pack of beasts and survived without a scratch on them.

The ambient chatter became a murmur of shock and whispers as Victor suavely escorted Isabela by the arm to the middle of the foyer as if nothing was wrong. The waiter stammered after a brief moment, but immediately shut his bobbing mouth when the behemoth of a man turned towards him.

Victor's eyebrow quirked sadistically, eyeing the guy. "I know what yer thinking," he declared in a gruffly amiable mutter, pulling Isabela close to him to illustrate what was becoming clearly obvious to everyone else. "My lady friend and I enjoyed the primo accommodations. All that wine and grub was a real mood-setter," Isabela hummed in agreement, so Victor added, "Couldn't keep our hands off each other. So just put it all on our tab," he smirked sinisterly and looked around with a raised brow of debonair disdain before Isabela actually had to smother a sultry giggle against his chest.

Leaving the poor waiter to gape at them, Victor grabbed Isabela by the hand and led the way as they grabbed their coats and made their quick exit. Dining and dashing, they rushed out into the raining street while managing to slip into their coats as the cold winter storm poured down. Laughing, they ran through puddles and avenues, avoiding the Parisian traffic as they headed back to the hotel. Their hands locked together, they walked into the bustling lobby out of the storm, completely soaked but unfazed. Sneaking past the front desk, they headed up to their suite, not really noticing that the hallway lights were dimmer than normal. Halfway down the hall, Victor whisked Isabela up into his arms bridal style, teasing her for leaving her heels behind. Isabela smiled and kissed the column of his throat, playfully chiding that she could've used the pick up before running barefoot throughout Paris as they entered the suite.

Firelight and the shimmer of candles illuminated the room, while the rainstorm outside battered the windowpanes.

"The power must've gone out," Isabela mused.

"So much for being a four-star hotel," Victor snorted and put her down so he could peel out of his drenched trench coat.

Isabela took both their coats and set them to dry by the marble fireplace. A knock to the door made Victor growl. He stared across at Isabela, silently communicating he wanted to be left alone, but she tilted her head and pursed her lips at him, raising her brow delicately to be patient.

Huffing, he went to the door and answered it. The night manager stared up at him before giving a greeting and apologizing for the lack of power in their suite, explaining they'd taken the liberty to prepare the room for their return and asking if they'd like to be served dinner in the suite. Isabela practically materialized next to Victor in order to stop him from verbally lacerating the man with his impatient temper. She accepted the invitation and requested in fluid French what they'd like before the man nodded, noted the tattered condition of their clothes but minded his own business, and went on to set the dinner order.

When Victor closed the door and raised a derisive brow at her, Isabela waved his mocking look off as she headed towards their bedroom. "Don't give me that look. I know you're as hungry as I am after that fiasco. Come for a quick shower?" she turned and saw her reflection in one of the mirrors and grimaced.

Victor chuckled and went to stand behind her to take a look himself. They'd been lucky there'd been a power outage and a commotion, otherwise people would've thought they were a couple of maniacs. He watched her reflection in the mirror, caressing his clawed hand to trace the contour of her shoulder before trailing down to her clavicle. Isabela's eyes fluttered, relishing his touch.

They managed to share a shower without getting amorously carried away just in time to answer the door when room service arrived. Victor had scowled while the bellhop set the table for them, tersely telling him not to bother them for the rest of the night. Once he locked the door, he turned and paused at the sight of Isabela.

She smiled at him, amused that he'd answered the door practically in the nude. He was bare-chested save for the ever present dog tags around his neck and resting over his broad chest; tailored and tattered slacks hanging snuggly around his hips, zipped but unbuttoned.

Victor's eyes appraised her in the warm candle light. The long silk champagne nightgown draped her curves exquisitely before flaring out around her legs. She looked luminous in the firelight, her damp hair cascading along her shoulders and swaying as she walked up to the table and started prepping their dinner—his possessive gaze studding her delicate nipples under the thin silk while her coy glances made his blood rush south.

Hunger sated, Isabela lounged on a plush leather ottoman next to the fireplace in the bedroom while Victor watched the storm intensify outside.

The respite was foreign to them, but intrinsically welcomed after the tumultuous night. Questions still hung in the air, and neither of them wanted to voice them. Instead, they relished the silence. Isabela glanced away from the fire to gaze across at the imposing feral. The candles and firelight played across the planes of his muscled torso, his shadow cast across the floor like a shroud behind him.

Leaning back sideways, her eyes surveyed the ominous shadow before falling on the leather satchel tucked into the corner with her suitcase. Curiosity suddenly leapt to the forefront; wonder what his contact dug up…She shifted, intending to stand.

"What d'you have planned."

Isabela paused, glancing up at him. He was still facing the storm outside, so she cocked her head to the side. Victor turned to look over his shoulder, lips creeping into a cold smirk. "Wasn't a rhetorical question, vipe,r" he turned to face her and leaned against the corner of the wall. "What do you have planned?"

Isabela sighed and averted her gaze. "You're asking as if you intend to give me a say on the matter," she mused pensively. Her preternatural eyes were flaring green and gold in the firelight, her lips soft and moist under his keen gaze.

"And you're acting as if you're not gonna fight me every step of the way," he rumbled, crossing his arms.

Isabela's gaze flickered away from the fire to glance at him. Melancholy shone in her expression before she betrayed a forlorn smile. He watched the ice queen thaw from the inside out as she sat by the fire, the ultimatum he'd expected from her nowhere to be seen. Instead, she contemplatively stared back to the fire. Victor could smell the mixture of sweetness and savagery that perfumed her, senses buzzing when she scooted to the edge of the ottoman and tucked her legs under her.

Her eyes roved up his body before locking on his cold blue spheres as she tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't want to fight, Victor. I'm not going to fight you; we've done enough of that for tonight—"

"Stop placating and say what you're really thinking," Victor interrupted crassly, starting to pace like a tense predator.

"I won't if you keep brooding," Isabela softly chided. He shot her a searing look, but she held it defiantly. "We're perfectly wrong for each other, cub. Very soon your patience will outrun your desire for me, as you've said—"

"Give me a fucking break," he barked in. "What the fuck is this—you're 'it's not you it's me' speech? I'm not gonna repeat myself goddammit—!"

"We both know this is a fling," Isabela calmly stated, her eyes becoming serene. "Neither of us is suited for…whatever this is trying to become…"

Victor snorted disdainfully, going back to pacing. "Still carrying a torch…" he derisively spat and gestured dismissively at her.

"Stop bringing him up!" Isabela hissed with subdued ardor. Victor whirled around and stepped towards her, but paused and grappled with his impulses. He was angry and resentful, but not towards her, so instead of digging his claws into her, he clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his palms. She watched him stalk back to the windows, a snarl rumbling into a gruff growl in his throat. "I'm here with you…I haven't thought about him at all, until you've thrown it in my face," she murmured, her voice smoky with repressed emotion.

Turning, Victor caught her glancing at the satchel tucked into the corner. The look in her eyes was the same look from the day before, when she'd told him about heartache and fate. It's best to just settle for the brief moments, and not get so possessive when those have to end. He adamantly disagreed with what she'd said, but looking at her now, he wondered how much of that she really believed. Huffing, he turned to glare out at the stormy Parisian sky.

They were at a stalemate. Both could sense the ambivalence that needled into the rapport between them. It was like a pendulum that swung between them, threatening the unknown. In the end, it was more than ambivalence, and it wouldn't be solved by butting heads or boasting demands for insurmountable expectations. He wasn't going to give up anything for her. She wasn't going to open up and let him in. Neither had the key to unlock the other, nor were they capable of putting a leash to whatever whirlwind affair they'd had so far.

I want you…I'm not yours. You're not mine…I'm not putting a collar on you.

Victor silently fumed, grappling with the bestial fury that curled in his chest, threatening to scold through him. He was grappling with a ferocious loathing that left him seething internally, unable to piece together what he wanted and how he would take it. He knew he wanted her, but there was a cavalcade of issues that left him feeling muddled and resentful.

Isabela would never tell him how her heart ached for him—for everything he could give her. But, she knew he wouldn't allow himself to be the mate she yearned for, not with how possessive he was of her and how incapable she was of giving herself to him. Only a few days before, just the idea that she would grow to want what she couldn't have with the other feral stunned her. It brought to surface every lie she'd told herself, unearthing the fallacies of her mind to her heart. She felt betrayed and utterly alone. Her eyes focused on the brooding rival that had inexplicably become her lover, the isolation welling in her chest as she watched him stare implacably out on the deluge, ruminating intensely.

Victor would never love her.

The sadistic thought was compounded by the realization that on some primal, baser level…she did. Staring at him, she couldn't help but balk at the irony.

Her longing for him made it easy for the surge of arousal to radiate throughout her.

"Victor. Please don't brood." He turned around to shoot her a deadly glare, but ended up staring as she stood from the ottoman, watching as her skin began to shimmer bronze in the firelight. Her eyes were luminous as she slipped the straps of the nightgown off her shoulders. "I promised to make it all up to you. Can't do that if you stay surly towards me," she murmured sensually, letting the nightgown slip off her arms and glide down her body to pool around her feet.

The primal current between them became intoxicating, her heady scent growing tantalizing while she strutted alluring to the bed, climbing onto it and silently beckoning him to join her with her provocative stare. Victor watched her, his mouth watering as his eyes roved over her nude form and breathed in her addictive scent, spiced with her arousal for him. He licked his lips, practically able to taste her need for him in the air as he unzipped his trousers and shoved them off before walking towards the bed. He prowled around to the foot of the bed, fangs peeking menacingly behind his smirking lips—appraising her like a predator does his mate before approaching.

Isabela sighed tenderly. Rapture was ignited in every single nerve ending, from her toes to her scalp. She felt like heat tingled throughout her body, waiting to blaze into a wave of pleasure just from a single touch.

Victor was turned on by the anticipation he sensed buzz through her when he climbed onto the bed and prowled towards her. He knew enough about her rapture pheromone to take his time and hold back on initiating the first touch. When he sidled up to her, Isabela hesitated, a hint of anxiety in her scent.

He chuckled gravelly, leaning in close without touching her. "Afraid I'll bite?" he growled provocatively, his warm breath against her cheek sending a shiver down her spine.

"Just wary," she replied, her eyes coy.

He was about to scathe a remark, but stopped himself. She wasn't lying, and he knew there'd be hell to pay if his nasty retort slipped out. So instead, he leaned even closer, dangerously close. "M'not gonna regret this, am I?" he husked.

Isabela met his smoky blue gaze but remained perfectly still, afraid to move and accidentally brush against him before she was ready. "Not as much as I will if you keep testing my patience, lover," she purred and leaned away cautiously. "Once you touch me…there's no going back. I don't know how potent it will be…"

He'd read about the 'mechanics' of her pheromone; how long her 'victim' would suffer from the effects of rapture, how the potency of rapture depended on the level of her physical arousal, and how with each additional touch after the initial contact the effects would be shared twofold by the viper and her victim. The fact that they were both ferals insured that the sensations would be an explosive combination, but the idea that Isabela would be at her most vulnerable shimmered with rapture made him disregard her insecurities.

Holding her gaze, Victor reached his hand to cup her cheek, confident and paying her caution no mind as she froze in anticipation. As the pads of his fingers caressed her flushed cheek, the contact instantaneously caused warmth to rush through them, similar to the heat that surges through the body when blood roars into excited tissue, except that the sensory bliss was magnified through the synching of their primal natures. The sensory exchange caused her to shudder and gasp while he stiffened, eyes widening as a current of sensation flooded up his fingers to thunder through him and undulate back through her. Biology, evolution, and feral lust ignited in them unlike anything they'd ever had before, synching into the primal imperative that was intricately part of their DNA.

Isabela fisted her fingers into the bedding, arching into his touch but still wary of reciprocating. Victor felt like a livewire was shooting sparks off under his skin, the thrumming tingle of arousal throbbing all over him. Every touch ignited more, sending jolts and surges of animal hunger to skitter down into his loins. He could feel her need for him, taste it in the heated air around them and touch it through the electricity of their skin-to-skin contact.

His hand caressed down her neck and pawed at her breast while the other trailed down her shoulder and encircled her wrist. He was panting, starved for her touch and throbbing all over. Isabela gasped and whimpered when he leaned in and brushed his mouth against her jaw before rolling the tip of his tongue along her cheek. She saw colors explode in the corners of her vision, her lips parting in a strangled sigh that hiccupped in her throat. The electricity dancing on his tongue made Victor groan for more, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her into his lap. Isabela mewled and trembled, her hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

The sensation of her hands touching him was like someone plugging him into a generator, hypersensitive nerve endings pulsing with heat as he groaned and gripped her in his arms. Isabela arched, her head thrown back as she mewled and shivered in his arms. Victor dipped down and licked a trail from the valley of her breasts up to her throat, making her writhe in pleasure and splay her hands across his chest.

When his mouth pursed around a studded nipple, Isabela cried out, arching away from Victor and trying to fight the shudders of pleasure his touches and mouth ignited. Grabbing her by the small of her back, Victor thwarted her from slinking away, holding her close as he leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose to gently nuzzle her throat before nipping his fangs along her pulse. Her hands gripped his forearms when he growled against her throat and licked up her jaw before capturing her lips in a mind-blowing kiss. The moment their lips connected was when their true hunger for each other blossomed, emboldening them to demand more.

Isabela vied to turn the tables, dragging her hands down his jaw and neck to push against his chest and force him to lean back and give her ravenous mouth access to his hot skin. Victor tipped his head back and growled when she licked up his throat, momentarily nipping on his Adam's apple before setting fiery kisses down his chest. Tangling his hand in the back of her hair, Victor tilted her head back yanked her to press flush against him, settling her to straddle his lap. The instant his arousal thrust against her womanhood, Isabela cried out for him, blushing self-consciously and hiding her flushed features against the crook of his shoulder.

Victor nudged his head against hers, brushing a smile along her hairline and growling a purr before pawing his hands to cup her rear and roll his hips up against her. She bit down on the muscled slope of his shoulder and moaned when his ramrod erection slid against her eager flesh as he dragged his retracted claws down her spine. Growling against his neck, she scraped her blunt teeth against his pulse and laved the bite mark as it healed while Victor groaned and rutted against her.

Writhing, Isabela bucked down against his crotch, mewling for him to take her, mouth pleading as she bit and suckled his throat before licking his lips. Victor plunged his tongue into her mouth and swallowed her whimpers for more, reaching between them to caress his usually lethal fingers against her heat, tenderly. She bit down on his lip and thrust against his hand, gripping the back of his neck and panting against his lips as she ground his engorged flesh between his apex and her womb.

The exquisite friction was enough to make Victor's control slip. He pressed his thick sex into her molten sheath, thrusting up and slamming her down to buck against his lap. A moan tore free from her as she arched, her skin scorched with rapture. The sensation of being embedded inside her tight and desperate body revved through him as he became hyperaware that her flesh was becoming scolding from the rush of rapture pulsing through her skin.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Isabela mewled for him to take her, her talons biting demandingly into his upper back for more. Swinging around, Victor slammed her down on the bed and rammed his thrust upwards. She cried out, clenching around him as he fucked her with barreling strokes. Pressing his forehead against hers, Victor panted with her, sharing a breath as their erratic pulses fell into rhythm and rapture zipped through them.

He took her voraciously, leaving her flushed and taut under him as she whimpered his name and cried out heartily. The moment of her climax was the most breathtaking he'd ever seen, her lips parted in a throaty sigh, hooded eyes blazing up at him as her hands reached up for him. Her sheath contracted wantonly around him, and when he thrust home, Victor threw back his head and roared his orgasm—hands fisting into the bed under her as he road his climax to its crest. Soothing fingertips caressed the sides of his face when he bowed his head and panted, his skin tingling from more than afterglow as he collapsed on top of her.

Isabela shivered softly under his warm body while he trembled from the aftershocks of rapture still thrumming through his system. The flood of sensations washed over them as they cuddled and kissed. Victor pulled away first, adjusting to lounge possessively over her and survey the sated and vulnerable hellion under him. His strong fingers combed the hair away from her face, claws delicately scraping her still flushed skin. Her eyes shone brilliantly as she smiled soothingly up at him and ran her fingertips affectionately along his brow, wiping away a few errant beads of sweat before trailing them down his cheek. Victor closed his eyes and relished her gentle touch, licking her fingertips when they brushed along his mouth.

"You regret it?"

He opened his eyes, the usual chill in his crystalline depths glinting with another emotion as they crinkled around the corners. Her fingers retreated from his face to instead wrap in the chain of his dog tags before tugging lightly for him to dip down and meet her for a sensuous kiss. When they parted from the kiss, Isabela whispered the question again.

"Only thing I regret is not getting this to happen sooner," he mused, the gloating zest in his eyes wicked as he nuzzled her jaw roguishly.

Isabela hummed, encircling his chest before she curled into his arms and tucked her head against him. She focused on his heartbeat, lips brushing a kiss against his pectoral as her mind wandered. Victor rested a clawed hand over her ass while the other stroked his claws up and down her back, languidly. Silence reigned between them for long moments, the crackling of the fireplaces and the sounds of the rainstorm outside fading into the background while their breathing and heartbeats sank into a relaxed state. She felt the most at peace than she'd ever had. He felt the most sated he'd ever had.

It felt right…but it wasn't.

Victor was shortsighted, uncaring about the threat his possession of her posed to him and her. Isabela, however, wasn't in denial; she knew better than either of them the risks they posed to each other—had been warning him of the absolute impossibilities of his stubborn will surmounting the reality of their natures. Subconsciously, they knew their animal natures couldn't be suppressed, nor that the reality of their circumstances could be changed. Neither wanted to acknowledge that they couldn't see a future that included the other— that they couldn't comprehend the magnetism that radiated between them, only to end in unrequited feral desire for the unattainable: each other.

They ignored their instincts for the time being, pushed their resentment and wants away to instead bask in each other's embrace.

____________________

Read Chapter 10: Besetting Memories

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[forcefullyawake]

did i forget i was part of this collab? no, u did

Here is my totally on time entry into @introloves​ once upon a time collab!

Pairing: Knight! Kakashi x Princess! Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, breeding kink, literally no plot just fucking honestly

WC: 2.8k

Summary: There’s a tournament held for knights across the lands to prove their worth, that they can protect you as queen and as your husband. When the winner takes off his helm, it’s the last person you expect to see in the world

The spring air is cool along your exposed collar bone, the sweet smells curling around your shoulders. It is, simply put, the nicest day in recent memory, and all who you’ve spoken to assured you that this is a blessing of the highest honor. The day needs to be perfect, right down to the way the sun’s rays reach your face. It’s the day that will decide the rest of your life- the tournament that will change everything as knights from all over the kingdom fight for the honor of your hand in marriage.

It makes you giddy just to think about it, delighting in the attention you receive the week before the event. The castle grows even more crowded as noblemen and women come from near and far just to see who will become your husband. You’ve tried to sneak peaks at the men competing for your hand, but your father has kept you under tight lock and key, taking great pains to make sure that you see nobody- and nobody sees you. 

Dawn rises early, and so do you. You lay in bed, nearly vibrating with excitement at the thought of the day ahead of you. Your maids come in, helping you bathe, and the cool water helps clear your mind. Still, it’s hard not to get too ahead of yourself when you dress, in as fine as dress as you’ve ever had, the nicest dress you’ll have until your wedding day. You even get a pot of red rogue to dust along your cheeks and lips, highlighting them perfectly. When you look at yourself in the mirror you almost don’t recognize yourself- you finally look like the princess you truly are. 

There’s a pavilion built in a field, three chairs upon it for you, your mother and father, the king and queen. You get sat in the center, the place of the highest honor. A tiara rests upon your head, sparkling in the sunlight. As the knights being to filter into the area you try your hardest to sneak peaks at them. All of them have their faces uncovered, allowing you ample time to stare. Most of them seem older than you by a few years. 

One of the knights, you realize has completely grey hair. You can’t see much of his face, his back turned from you the whole while you watch him before your eyes flicker over to the next man. There’s so many of them, and realizing they’re all here for you makes you nervous. You sit, trying to look pretty and unaffected as the tournament begins. 

The joust is straightforward enough- the knights face each other one by one. Whoever wins can claim your hand in marriage, having proven himself worthy of protecting you. You get to rule, with your chosen hand by your side, just as your mother had. It’s been all you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl. 

You watch with curious eyes as the first two knights take their positions on their horses opposite each other. You don’t realize how violent it will be until you see it with your own eyes. The first knight is knocked out of his seat, landing on the ground with a loud, almost exaggerated thud. He doesn’t get up for so long that someone has to go check on him, and it does nothing to settle your nerves. You’re not sure if you can go through a whole day of this. 

But you have to- it’s your whole future on the line. 

One by one the knights joust, and it never gets any less brutal to watch. There’s a clear front runner, a knight that unseats opponent after opponent, though they lack a squire and clear banner for you to place who they might be, or where they’re from. You find yourself rooting for them, hoping they’ll win as it becomes clear they’re the best you’ll be able to find. Before you ever even realize it, the sun is setting and there’s one last joust about to take place before you. 

It’s over in mere moments. Despite unseating so many people already, and though you know he must be completely exhausted, the winning knight is the one you’ve been watching all day. One last name falls before him, and as a cheer rings out over the field he brings his horse around. The knight rides to right in front of you, dropping from his horse and taking a knee in front of you and your parents. 

“Rise, brave knight,” You proclaim, trying to keep your voice steady as you speak. “I would look upon the man who would claim my hand as his own.” The knight stands without a word, pulling his helm off and making you gasp. 

In front of your stands Hatake Kakashi- your former lover and master of your security. 

“Hello, Princess,” He smiles at you, the last thing you see before you faint. 

There’s a clamor all around you when you finally begin to come to. Your eyes slowly flutter open to see the soft hues of the sunset, and that you’re still right in front of the chair where you fell. There’s a whole repertoire of people around you, though you only have eyes on one person- Kakashi. He’s staring at you openly, though he waits on the fringes for you to be declared completely okay. 

You’re able to wave most of the closest people to you off with a smile, though your maidens still gather at your back, and your father has your hand on his arm as you walk back up to the castle. Kakashi trails not far behind, ever present on your mind. 

You hadn’t even considered that he might try to show his face today- so far removed from your mind he usually was. While you knew he was a knight with no equal, he had been the one to break things off. And now? To show up here? Ready to win your hand in marriage as if nothing at all had transpired between the two of you? It was more than you thought you could bear. 

Since you have a perfect excuse already, you dismiss your handmaidens as soon as you get to your room, claiming to want to be alone. It’s all too easy to collapse on your bed, panic taking hold in your chest. 

Why, oh god, why is Kakashi here? As if your thoughts alone summoned him, you hear a soft knock on your door and his voice on the other side. 

“Go away!” You cry, trying to make sure the tears don’t leak into your voice. Unfortunately for you, Kakashi is as headstrong as you are and opens the door anyways. “I said leave!” 

“I can’t,” For his part, Kakashi sounds as pained as you feel. “Please, I thought you would be happy.” 

“Happy?” You nearly screech, turning towards him, “You left me! Abandoned me! And now you show up like nothing at all has happened and we should get married?” 

“Keep your voice down, love,” He warns, glancing nervously at the door. “I don’t exactly have permission to be here.”

“Love?!” The word pulls you off the bed, marching over towards him. “You lost the right to call me that as soon as you left me!”

“I had no choice!” Despite how brave you know he is, Kakashi takes a step back from you, putting some distance in between your bodies. “I had no name, no right to claim you.”

“And yet you did anyways!” You barely manage to keep your voice quiet and level as you hiss at him. “And now you’ve returned just to torment me more!” Kakashi’s face crumbles for the briefest moment, several emotions running over his face before he composes himself. 

“I came back because I love you!” Now it’s his voice that’s rising, color warming his cheeks as he takes a step forward. He reaches for you, but you jerk away from him, pain written all over your face. “I had to leave. You know I had to.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” You remind him. You had simply woken up that awful day to a note from your mother, telling you that Kakashi had retired from the household, and that she would send a new head guard the following day. Your whole life was divided into before and after that day- before, when your life was full of laughter, and love, and your nights spent in Kakashi’s arms. And the after, when your home was quieter, and more reserved, and you spent your nights in silent tears. 

“I didn’t say goodbye because I knew I would always be back,” Kakashi says, taking another step towards you. His scent washes over you now that he’s so close, and he smells the exact same as you remember. This time when he reaches for you, you don’t move away but let him pull you in close. He’s taken off his armor sometime between winning and now, so his warmth permeates you. You can hear his heart beating under your ear- no, not beating, pounding. Like he’s scared. 

“Please,” He whispers into your hair, “Please let me love you again.” You should say no, and you pull back to tell him that, but the tears you see dotting the corners of his eyes won’t let you. Instead you find yourself pulling him down to press your lips to his. 

Kakashi moans into your mouth, arms tightening around you to press you to him. His lips feel the same, the way they mold to yours, the familiar pressure of them against your own. It’s all too easy to open your mouth for him when his tongue begs entrance. You offer no resistance as he walks you back towards your bed, and when he pushes you down back onto it. 

It’s been far too long, you think, as he crawls over on top of you. Kakashi never lets his mouth get too far from yours, even as he starts to undress himself. He only gets his shirt off before he reaches to start to pull at the laces of your dress. You let him struggle, only for a moment before your hands are swatting his away, lithe fingers make quick work of your dress. He sits back, just to watch it slide off your body- and then there you are, only a thin slip of fabric covering your body from his. 

You’re as beautiful as he remembers, though perhaps the want-the love- he feels for you isn’t written as openly across his face as he imagines, because your arms come up to cover your chest, and you can’t look at him now. 

“You would hide yourself from me?” He asks, the words almost a growl as he pulls you towards him once more, hands grabbing at your wrists to tug your arms down. You don’t resist him, not when the feel of his skin on yours sends sparks over your body, heat pooling low in your gut. “When I have won you fairly?”

“Of course not, my lord,” You try for sarcastic, but your breathy tone of voice betrays you. You don’t sound like yourself, but like a simpering maiden. A feral grin paints Kakashi’s face, only for a moment before he grabs you properly now, tugging you down to the bed, your legs falling perfectly open for him to slot himself between. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressed against you, up against your most sensitive spot, and you have to bite your lip to keep the keen that tries to spill from them. 

“Poor little princess,” He coos, one arm holding himself up, his free hand skimming down the side of your face, your neck, down your front to pluck at one pebbled nipple. “Nobody has touched you since me, have they?” His tone is teasing but you see a flash of anger in his eyes- and for one brief moment you consider lying but instead-

“There is only you, for me,” The truth rests between your bodies, only for a moment before his mouth is on yours, and his hand grips your slip tight, ripping it down the front. His mouth drops, from your lips, down your neck, nipping and sucking over your pulse, before moving down even further. He holds your gaze as his lips close over your nipple, tongue running over the peak. One of your hands twists at the sheets beneath you as the other covers your mouth, holding back your moans. 

Still, he doesn’t give you a moment of respite, moving to the other side, giving it the same treatment before moving on. Down the valley of your breasts, down over your stomach, the fabric of your slip ripping under his hands until you lay before him, pants the only thing hiding you from him.

And then he all but rips those off you too, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, the other leg pressed down to the bed, leaving you open and vulnerable for him. Your skin feels too hot- you’ve done so much with Kakashi in the past, but never this. 

“What are you-” Your question gets broken off with a strangled moan as his tongue licks up your slit, before circling the bud nestled between your thighs. His mouth is on you, all over you, lapping up your slickness like a man parched. His fingers press into you, slowly working you open as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter until-

“Ka-oh!” You can’t even get his name out as you shatter under him, hips twitching, trying to get more of his fingers, more of his tongue. To your dismay he pulls away, letting your legs fall back to your bed, as his clean hand begins to pull at the laces of his pants, the fingers that were inside of you going to his mouth to be licked clean. 

His hand comes to down pump his cock a couple of times, his spit and your wetness mixing over it before he lines himself up with your entrance, hips rutting forward to bury himself in you in one movement. It feels like he was never even gone, cock splitting you open easily, your inner walls hungrily guiding him in. He groans, low and deep and right in your ear, and everything is right in your world once more. 

Kakashi rolls his hips, hitting every part inside of you that sends pleasure shooting up your spine. It’s somehow too much and not enough all at once, not when you’ve missed him so much, not when you’ve been left to get yourself off these past months, unable to bring yourself even half the pleasure Kakashi could. You plant your feet on the bed, hips moving in time with his. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this- your sweet cunt, your little moans,” He whispers in your ear, never stopping his hips. “I spent so many nights alone with nothing but my hand for company, thinking I would never get to taste the heaven between your thighs.” He pauses, making sure you’re looking at him before he continues on, “And now I will taste it every night.”

You think you might be agreeing with him, babbling nonsense as his hips continue to thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You can tell he’s already close, too, the way his breath hitches, and you can feel tremors running down his spine. Still, he reaches between the two of you, fingers rubbing your bud as harshly as he dares.

“Come for me,” He grits out, “Please.” That word is all it takes for pleasure to overwhelm you again, shuddering and sighing as your skin starts to feel oversensitive. 

“Where?” It’s a gasp, a plea. You can feel him start to pull away, to finish on your stomach as he has done so many times before, but you lock your legs around his hips, pulling him forward, the tip of his cock pressed deeply and firmly inside of you. 

“Inside,” You insist, looking into his eyes. With a too loud moan he spills himself inside of you, filling you with his spend. He doesn’t roll off of you, pressing your foreheads together as he works through the aftershocks. 

Distantly, you can hear a pounding at your door, and you know you’re caught. 

“You’re dangerous,” Kakashi whispers against your lips, smiling the whole time as he kisses you. “Very dangerous.” The pounding on your door continues, responsibilities and the rest of your life trying to intrude, but you ignore them all in favor of wrapping your arms around your love, and pulling him close. 

The entire kingdom can wait, this is all you need. 

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[stylistiquements]

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

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Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

[theficplug]

Taking Erik To The Beauty Supply Store 2 / Barber Shop With Erik

Erik Killmonger x Black Reader

Warnings : mature/sexual conversations?

it's a regular day in the stevens household. going to the beauty supply store again & the barber shop but hey it's fun cause it's you and your man.

First taking Erik to the beauty supply store fic:

“I could beat the brake off her lying ass. First of all, I should’ve known something was up cause she asked me if I’m natural. I said yes. She said well I normally do relaxed hair.. Then said you got to have your hair washed and blow dried already… Talking about she was going to have me serving 90s Nia Long. This bitch got me looking like big momma when she came home for that motherfucking party.” You continue your rant as Erik moves around the room looking for your body butter and your fluffy shoes to put on for the day.

You wanted a cute 90s pixie cut to go along with the theme of the maternity shoot which was like the cheesy 90s mall style set with the faded backdrop.

180 dollars and a lopsided , almost a golden bob later and you are still thinking about snatching her out of that salon.

“I’m gonna try and trim it up myself and dye it before the maternity photos tomorrow. But I’mma get two wigs just in case I mess up.” You explain to Erik as he begins to spread the body butter up your legs leaving a golden glow on your skin.

“Not you down there cackling after getting some hang time on the locs you been growing since high school... It’s quiet, ain't no back talk.” You banter with him and he stops massaging your legs to give you a look and laughs softly before giving you a retort of his own.

“You got a lot to say for somebody that can’t even lotion they ashy lil knees.”

“Your daughter been pushing against my organs for 8 and a half months. I don’t wanna hear nothing unless its about my push present. You know that I like rings… My engagement ring looking reeeealll lonely.” you say to him as you dangle your hand in front of his face.

“You look so fucking good today baby… Say, Big Fine, lemme get your number… I’mma eat the f-” he trails off kissing your legs and letting his tongue trail up it and you grab his chin softly.

“Boy if you don’t come on before you be late for your appointment… Can I stop and get a blue raspberry slushie first though?” you ask him and he sighs softly before giving you a small smile and nodding.

“Yeah, hold on let me grab your shoes and purse and then we can go.”

“And obviously yes when we come back before I install that lace front you can beat, duh.” you reply to him before giving him a peck to his lips.

After he grabs everything and helps you down the stairs. And with his help of putting you into his big ass truck you two are on your way.

“We’re going to get my hair cut first cause I already know you’re going to want to go to 2 different stores and it’s only gon’ take him about 15 minutes at the most to line me up.”

He wasn’t lying with the way that you liked to scan every section of the store before you left because to be honest where else were you going to get a pair of skittle shorts, bomb ass lip glosses, and a cute little panda hand sanitizer holder all in one place?

“Okay, sounds like a plan.. The way that I was supposed to have a hot girl summer this year and ended up with a damn its too hot for me to even put my clothes on mom summer. You really were not playing about trying to start a family on your birthday.” you joke as you crunch on your goldfish and look over at Erik.

“I think you just got finer through this whole thing. Watching my baby grow my baby is something surreal. In the beginning watching you go through all of the morning sickness and the body aches and stuff. I felt so bad you know not being able to physically take on all that was going on with you. I aint gon’ never not be appreciative and awe of you.” Erik replies with a serious comment that you were not expecting and you’d be damned if the hormones aren’t doing their thing.

“I really did not expect you to say that. Baabbbee, come on. You know I cry about everything right now. Love you.” you lean over to wrap your arms around him gently and kiss the side of his face while he’s focusing on the road.

“I love you too…. I think I’mma get my locs cut off soon. I don’t know why I’m ready to get a fade and just call it a day.” he questions before looking over at you briefly

“Either way you still gonna look good. I knew you before you even got your locs so you’re gonna look even better now because you grew into your head. Dee be cutting the fuck outta your hair even though he been bald for a good 40 years.” you say and it causes Erik to let out a loud laugh and shake his head.

You eventually ended up ordering a blue raspberry lemonade slushie, a hotdog and fries because Sonic basically took all of Erik's money at this point in your pregnancy.

The rest of your ride was chill as you both swayed to the music or turned it down for a little chat every now and then.

In public was always very protective of you but especially since becoming pregnant he has been hovering over you like a lion waiting for someone to even look at you for too long.

He hops out of the sleek matte black truck first to help you out and sling his arm around your waist with a hand resting on your belly.

You feel some eyes on you as you walk through the door. Your multi-coloured sundress that showcased your back, flowing with you.

Some of the men, new to the shop you assumed, were eyeing you down before Erik looked over their way and nods at them and they pretended to check their phones.

“What's up E? Damn lil sis look like she’s about to pop! How you feeling baby girl?” Dee greets you and Erik as you both walk in and some of the regulars in there say hey to the both of you.

“I’m alright Dee. Baby is just really ready to see the world. She has been kicking up a storm at times. I think we might have a little athlete here.” you reply and you watch as the greyed man with freckles across his cheeks and bridge of his nose eyes crinkle as he finishes cutting the man's hair sitting in the chair.

“I remember when I became a father for the first time. Shits wild because you think that you know everything there is to know and then when you actually see your baby take that first breath. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.” He continues as he shows you a photo of his 4 children and you give him a small smile.

“Ooh, they’re beautiful.” you compliment him as you settle into your seat and scroll on your phone on your phone waiting for Erik to be next.

Some time went by and the men seemed like they were trying to keep their conversation in a hush and you can see some eyes on you as they talked back and forth.

“I’m just saying if you want a threesome with your girl and you expect her to be okay with letting another woman into her bed. You need to match her energy. Could you imagine your girl asking you to bring a whole nother man into your room if that’s not what you’re into? Instead of asking for it. Maybe try bringing toys into the situation. Could spice it up a notch and be in both of your comfort zones. Personally, couples vibrators seem to do the trick just fine.” You advise as you look up from scrolling on your Pinterest feed.

The little huddle of them in front of you stopped talking and immediately looked up at you in silence before Dee’s laugh broke it.

“I don’t know about bringing another man in. That ain't my thing but I get what you're saying. Which ones would you recommend?” The one named Leron asked and you notice Erik is now paying attention , looking from you to them to make sure they stay respectful.

“You better let them know , baby girl! That’s how that baby popped into fruition. She got you with the tantric breathing, huh E?” he jokes and Erik cracks into a smile, his golds gleaming as he looks at you.

“She not wrong. Engage in what your woman like too. Yoga, talking during sex, giving as much as you receive from her, all that. ” He says casually and shrugging and you give him a small smile cause this man done come so far from when you met him.

After he finishes lining up his beard, Erik pays and you’re on your way to one of your favourite places.

“You look so sexy. Your beard is all lined up crisp and stuff. I told you that beard oil was gonna even it out.” you say to him and kiss him below his ear . His hand gripped your thigh gently and you repeated it again.

It didn’t take long before you were at one of your favourite places.

You turned to Erik and asked him to buy a stocking cap for you to try on the wigs that you liked and wanted to see before you purchased it.

You slid on the stocking cap over your hair before grabbing a cute little 27 piece pixie cut wig just to try it on and see what it was giving . You finger combed it and turned to Erik to ask him how it looks.

“Like you finna start singing “Truth is i’m tired. Take me to the king. Here’s my offering-” .” You hold in your laugh as you push Erik’s chest and he grabs your hands.

“I can’t stand your ass !” You say cracking up and Erik grabs the stocking cap from his pocket that he brought himself and slides it over his locs.

You watch as he grabs one of the bobs from the mannequin and sits it half cocked on his head before shaking it side to side.

“What’s cooler than being cool? Ice cold. You know what to do doooo. You know what to doooo.... This is your grand daddy. This is your grand daddy.” Erik starts acting like Andre 3000 and Mr. Brown. You swear this man was gonna make you push out this baby with how hard you were laughing at him.

“Why are you moving your lips like thaaat? What’s your name? B.O.B, so they calling you Bob? Stop playing nigga you know that I’m known for the bob.” you sing the nicki minaj lyrics to him and both of y’all get a good laugh before he takes off the wig and places it carefully back on the mannequin.

He looks over at the one that looked the most like your hair before you got it cut and slides it on.

His expressions changed and he narrowed his eyes at you before putting his hand on his stomach.

“Whew, my god E. You did this to me and for what? My ankles looking like cornbread huh? Look at this shit bae! If my nose swells for real in these next months, we fighting. Damn, I’m getting thick. I look like I'm pregnant in the front and the back. Can you get me two shrimp po’boys and some fries on the way home? ERIK, wake up- You our baby look like Stitch in this ultrasound? Stop playing , im for real.” he sounds exactly like you and mimicked your expressions to a t.

You giggled softly and snatched his wig off leaving him standing there looking crazy in the cap.

“You wanna fight?” You ask him before walking up on him like you’re on bad girls club and swinging the wig at him.

He helped you put the wig back on the mannequin and kissed both of your hands before continuing through the aisle with you.

You both ignored how many times the employee passed by or watched you as you grabbed some of the products from the shelf and put it into your little cart that you wanted to try.

“You wish this was you, huh? You wanted to be Future from 8 Mile so bad, huh? ” you ask Erik , laughing as you point to the full lace faux locs wig that’s in front of you and he shakes his head.

“She got you down bad. This you?” he asks you as he points to the lil gold church wig that’s sitting on the top shelf and you suck your teeth at him .

“You wanna dip dye your hair for tomorrow? A pretty auburn colour would look so good on you or even a baby blue?” You ask him as you move away from the wigs after deciding to put a off black lace front straight wig in your cart and another in sandy blonde with deep waves.

You scan the shelf of dye as Erik wraps his arm around your waist and takes a look.

“This one looks good right here.” He adds as he hands you a colour called Electric Blue.

“This is gonna look so good on you bae.” You compliment him and he leans down to kiss you softly.

“You only tryna compliment me cause you want me to help you install that wig. You think you slick bae.” he calls as he walks off towards the hair care products for his locs.

“Well, if I’m finna use the little energy I have to retwist your hair you could at least extend the helping hand!” You call after him.

“I haven’t tried peppermint oil yet but it should be good to add to my mix? Look, I found this small ass bonnet. She’s gonna be able to match us.” He says walking back to you and showing you the lilac bonnet in his hand and you swear you were about to tear up again cause all 3 of you were gonna have matching bonnets and durag.

“If she takes after both of us she’s gonna have a head full of hair. To cover that melon from your side.” You tease him

“Come on and grab your butterfly wings for your eyes so we can go home and finish our show. I’mma cook them snow crabs for you too.” he says to you and you can see him watching you like you hung the moon in the sky yourself as you venture off.

You grabbed the edge control, lashes, a new lipstick, earrings, glosses, Got2b spray, and some accessories for Erik’s hair before meeting him at the counter.

It took him all of two seconds to pay for your beauty supply store addiction and you were off on your way back to the crib to love on him.

Erik was currently standing behind you while you sat in the chair in his old large tshirt and held down the wig to the Ghost Bond glue.

You were talking him through helping you finish the install because you just didn't have the energy to do it.

“Okay you gon’ take a lil piece and wrap it around the wand. But please be careful baby. This one goes from like 0 to a 400 degrees so fast.” you warn and watch in the mirror as he takes the first piece and follows your instructions.

You watch him for a while focusing on your head and asking if you liked the way that it’s turning out. You smile softly at him and nod.

“I'm so grateful , you know. “ you say to him with a pout

“Damn, I was just about to send you a do you like me back yes or no text after this too.” he jokes and you shake your head.

“I’m tryna be serious and appreciate you-” you are cut off by him leaning down and pushing his plump lips out for a kiss from you

“I love you too. 2 more weeks and I get to have my two babies in my arms. What more could I want? ”

Tag list: @doublesidedscoobysnacks

@chaneajoyyy

@mirandkimy

@doitforthevine67

@dasia21

@depressionandfandomsinc

@wholelotta-melanin

@theesotericqueen

@mbakuwife

@spookys-girl

@teardropzih

@bigchoose

@ceo-of-baby

@sweetpeachjones

@lost-ssoull

@shyblackgurl

@nijajoha

@imayhavemisunderstood

(Long post. Sorry I'm still learning how to do the read more thing! Sorry for being gone from here for so long. This one really helped me ease back into writing especially after how much love the first one received!)

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Damian Wayne Dating HCs

Pairing :: older/adult!Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

Headcanon :: How Damian gets into and acts in a relationship

Word Count :: 1,676

Warnings :: N/A

A/N :: The image I’m using I created with Artbreeder. 

I didn’t call Damian “Robin” and referred to him as a vigilante because Dick stopped being Robin at 25, Jason 22, and Tim 18. The Damian I’m writing is 22. We don’t see much of Older!Damian, and when we do he’s either taken up the mantle of Batman or The Demon’s Head for The League Of Assassins

Getting into a relationship (all of this is in roughly a year) :

Neither you nor Damian know when you started dating, it just sort of happened

He met you at a bookstore you worked at, and you noticed he always came in buying older books about history, warfare, and strategies.

You found the warfare and strategies odd at first but chose not to question it

You asked him out first.

“Why do you always buy these books?” “I like history.” “Oh cool, I do too... Wanna hang out and talk about the First Battle of Tarain?”

You were joking, he said yes to get out of doing a thing with Tim

You each thought it was going to be a small amount of time spent together at some local cafe. You two ended up staying until closing talking about history.

This becomes a bi-weekly thing, you meet up at the cafe, talk until it closes, or go out and talk in a nearby park until sunset.

Damian’s family notices, but choose not to question what he’s doing because it’s seemingly making him less annoyed with people

Dick starts getting curious when he sees Damian smile just a tad bit looking at a text from you

You text him random facts all the time, but they’re weird. “Did you know squirrels are behind most power outages in the US?”

Eventually, you two stop talking about just history and start talking about other things that interest each of you and your personal lives. 

You open up more than Damian

Damian pays close attention when he notices you’re talking about something you’re genuinely passionate about He pays attention to detail in general.

For your birthday he got you a leather swiss army medic bag from WWII. You cried tears of joy and jumped onto him for a big long hug.

That was the first time Damian’s heart skipped a beat. After seeing you overjoyed, he realized he likes seeing you happy. It gave him a warm feeling, but he doesn’t know yet he has feelings for you.

Yours and Damian’s first “official date” was to a fancy Wayne Ent. event. This time Damian asked you. He’s super stiff.

“Would you like to accompany me to the upcoming-” “Are you asking me out on a date??” “No, I’m asking you to accompany me-” “I’ll go.”

No one in his family knows your coming, except for Alfred because he was asked to pick you up and bring you to the manor the day of. Alfred is confused the entire car ride because you act super chill

When you show up, the other boys surround you. Dick realizes who you are instantly, Jason thinks you’re not human, Tim is afraid you’re like Damian.

Bruce is silent, and a bit thankful his son found a normal human

Damian picked out your outfit: A fancy dark Sacramento green dress with black heels, a pearl necklace, and pearl bracelets to match.

You panicked when you saw the jewelry and Damian instantly goes into “comfort mode” to reassure you it’s fine. The family is shook.

At the actual event, you feel SUPER AWKWARD. Your family had enough to get by in life, so you feel very out of place around all the rich people

Damian can tell you’re uncomfortable and so he tries to hold onto you at all times to help you feel comfortable

Ex: He holds your hand, puts a hand on your shoulder, stands directly next to you so your arms are touching.

You eventually feel comfortable, but, you’re both bored there, so you suggest hiding in the outside garden

Finally alone, you two start talking about the other batboys

“Does Dick always try to show off odd party tricks?” “Only when he sees a pretty lady.”

“Why was Jason just standing in the corner looking at everyone?” “He doesn’t like dressing up.”

“Come on, there’s no way Tim’s actually happy here.” “Did you see him on the dance floor?” He has awesome dance moves, he’s just very energetic.

You eventually start talking about something else.

You can hear the music from inside, so you two start slow dancing together.

He’s holding one of your hands and has a hand placed on the small of your back. You rest your head on his shoulder and have your free hand flat on his chest.

It’s in this instant you each realize you have feelings for one another.

You two swayed around slowly until the song eventually ended.

When you two pull away, you stare into his green eyes briefly before you place a hand on his cheek and pull him down for a kiss.

Once In A Relationship :

You and Damian are a good pair because he’s serious and you’re go-with-the-flow. If he starts over-analyzing something, you start relaxing him. 

You two spend at least one day a week together, and you constantly text each other basic messages like “How was your day?”, “Are you okay?”, “Good morning/night”, “Have a nice day”

If you take over an hour to reply to Damian he gets anxious something bad happened to you.

He legitimately gets ready to start searching EVERY PART of Gotham until he gets a text “Sorry, I was taking a nap. Long day at work.”

When you two are together, you’re usually out or at your apartment. He only takes you to the manor if none of the other guys are there.

He took you once with everyone there. Never again.

Dick: “Oh my god! Look! He has a little girlfriend! How cute, Damian’s growing up.” “I’m 22.”

Tim: “You… You look so nice. Why? How is she so nice and you’re so… you.” “I’ll murder you and make it look like an accident.”

Jason: “How? Did you threaten her? Is he threatening you?” “Dames is super sweet.”

When you call Damian “Dames”, your nickname for him, they all lose their shit.

“DAMES?” “YOU HAVE A NICKNAME FOR HIM?” “DA-ME-SSS?” “DO YOU HAVE MORE?” “D-A-M-E-S?”

Your nicknames for Damian: Dame, Love, and Mr. Serious

Damian’s nicknames for you: Beloved, Love, and Sunflower

He briskly drags you away before you can say anything else, and you just go with it. 

“??I thought we were going to talk more to your brothers??” “They’re not my brothers.” “Okay. I appreciate you.” “.....I appreciate you too.”

You two don’t say “I love you” very often. Instead, you say “I appreciate you”. You do say “I love you” in private/intimate moments, but in public/at random you say “I appreciate you”

Damian isn’t possessive, just protective. There’s a difference. 

He’s never been in a serious relationship before and he’s never loved someone romantically like with you before, so he wants to make sure you’re safe and comfortable 24/7

The first time a random guy catcalled you while you were with Damian, he instantly defended your honor.

“What did you say?” He grabs the guy and easily raises him a foot off the ground. He forces the guy to apologize and lets him fall on the ground after.

Quickly, you reassured Damian he doesn’t need to go to such lengths to “defend your honor”. You tell him to ignore people like that guy because they’re nobodies.

After a few months, you start to pick up on the fact you two rarely spend time together after sunset.

You questioned him once about it and he quickly told you it’s because he helps his father with Wayne Ent. You never questioned him again.

You didn’t 100% believe his answer, but trust he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you

One time you called him crying at night. He was about to go on patrol, then dropped everything to go to your apartment and make sure you were okay.

Damian got a key to your apart about a year into the relationship.

There are times you go to sleep alone and wake up with him asleep, arms wrapped around you. He doesn’t do this often, only after a rough night on a patrol or a particularly dark mission.

Damian’s usually a realist, but when he sees you smile and laugh, he becomes an optimist for a split second

He isn’t big on PDA, so depending on his mood sometimes you hold hands when walking, other times you just lock your pinkies together.

When one of you notices the other is upset though, then you get touchy to calm the other down

Sometimes, when you two are alone at your apartment or the mansion, you don’t speak. You just rest and enjoy the silence while laying on top of one another.

If you lay on Damian, you’re literally on top of him snuggling into his chest. He holds one of your hands and rubs your back.

If Damian lays on you, you’re usually sitting and he places his head on your lap. You love playing and messing around with his hair.

When you found out Damian’s a vigilante, it was a massive accident

You called him while he was on patrol, whispering in a shaking voice that two men had broken into your apartment.

He booked it to your apartment and busted through the window, in costume.

After taking care of the guys and handing them over to the authority, he starts questioning you to make sure you’re okay. When you don’t answer he realizes he’s still in costume talking to you now.

You’re in shock because now a lot of things make sense.

You’re upset for about an hour(because Damian knows how to make you happy when you’re angry) and then you’re utterly fascinated by Damian’s other life

Damian tells you he doesn’t want you to know a lot because it could put you in danger and you’re the one part of his life that’s normal

You accept his wishes and continue with your relationship as normal.

There are only two things that changed:

One: Damian moves you to a more secure apartment and makes sure you have plenty of bats or batons you could use to protect yourself “just in case”

Two: Damian spends almost every night at your apartment after patrol now

[spideyobsessed]

Before It’s Too Late Ch. 2

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Might wanna read Ch. 1

You run and run and run until your legs nearly go numb. Bumping into people, tripping over your feet, the sounds of your heavy breathing getting louder and louder. There’s only one thought etching itself into your mind: Tony’s words.

If you got your powers from that thing, then I’m positive you can do a lot more.

A lot more.

Why now? After years of having these abilities, why now? It’s almost like the words he spoke yesterday were a trigger and now they’ve awaken something that’s been dormant inside of you.

I heal and that’s it. I heal and that’s it. This can’t be happening right now.

You finally take a right down an alleyway and slow down to a stop. No words can be strung together to perfectly describe the sensation you’re feeling. It isn’t painful, but you ache. Energy is surging through your veins, but you feel like you need to lay down and rest. You feel anxious, but if the circumstances were different, you can find this quite enjoyable. It’s confusing.

You sit down right next to a dumpster and bring your knees up to your chest, fighting the urge to let out a gut wrenching scream. You can feel something inside of you bubbling up and growing stronger. It’s a tight feeling, like your body is a champagne bottle and the cork is going to skyrocket any minute now. For a brief moment, you come to the conclusion that you are literally going to explode and accept your fate.

...you can do a lot more.

Your hands cover your ears, your thoughts ultimately becoming too loud for you to endure. It’s like all of your senses are heightening, yet numbing all at once. You can’t pull it together. Your face scrunches up as you unintentionally hold your breath. Useless.

Involuntarily, you let out a cry that you’re sure can be heard throughout all of Queens. You feel your body jerk harshly three times before, all at once, everything stops.

A breath of relief escapes your lips as you finally relax your tense body, but the anxiety remains. Nothing new. Your entire physique feels tingly. Too fatigue to immediately spring into action, you remain sitting in your spot.

After a few moments, you take in your surroundings. The alley, although it was noticeably trashed when you entered, looks horrendous. The dumpster is about three feet away from you now. The windows in surrounding buildings are shattered. Several car alarms are blaring.

“What just happened to me?”

- - - - -

“You better keep your little girlfriend in check, Parker.” Flash threatens Peter before purposely bumping into him.

Unfazed by him, Peter turns his attention to Gwen. “Uh, is she..” He trails off.

“Yeah, she’s fine! I should still go check on her though. Best friend duties, ya know?” Gwen chuckles awkwardly.

Ned speaks up, “I totally get that. Being the superior friend comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows before shooting a look at his best friend, who is supposedly superior to him. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Ned says simply, earning a laugh from Peter.

“Exactly! So I gotta go.” Gwen says as she tries to walk away from the dorky pair.

“Can I come with you? I’d like to check on her, if that’s okay.” Peter asks.

If this were any other time, Gwen would’ve agreed before he even finished his sentence. She’s been rooting for you and Peter from the start, along with several other people, considering you two have made your feelings for each other extremely obvious to every except each other. It warms her heart to see your crush of four years finally getting the courage to get to know you.

However, having seen your hands radiating that familiar glow with her own eyes, she has to lie.

“You actually can’t b-because she’s just...on her period?” She lies horribly, but it’s perfect enough to fool two young men.

Peter immediately backs off, understanding that it’s not really his department of expertise. “Yeah I think you got this. Tell her I’ll text her later please?”

“Gotcha. Bye guys!” She waves at them before fast walking in the direction you went.

The two boys stay in place, as quiet as they’ve ever been. Both of them are obviously thinking the exact same thing. They don’t even have to say it out loud, but of course, they do anyway.

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“DUDE!”

“I KNOW!!”

They giggle together happily as they do their signature handshake before sharing a celebratory hug.

“She’s so into you!” Ned cheers when he pulls apart from his best friend.

“Do you really think so?” Peter questions, “That could’ve been strictly platonic.”

“Trust me, man. It wasn’t! She’s practically in love with you!” Ned over exaggerates, but he wasn’t wrong.

Peter doesn’t respond to his comment, but instead looks down at the ground and smiles to himself. “

‘Does she actually like me?’ He thinks.

The short events of today made him even more excited for the party tomorrow. Although he’s nervous and still very doubtful about your feelings for him, he planned on confessing his feelings for you at the party.

Ned continues to ramble on about “the birds and the bees”, (Peter doesn’t even know how he got to that topic), when suddenly chills plaster Peter’s body. He lifts up his arm and sees that every single hair is reaching straight up.

“Spidey sense. So cool.” Ned chuckles.

“Not cool. That means something is wrong, Ned.” Peter states as he begins to let his legs carry him to wherever feels right. Coincidentally, it’s in the direction Gwen just went.

As he rounds the corner, just as you and Gwen did minutes before, he spots the blonde girl standing in the doorway of the girls’ restroom. Before he can even get halfway to her, he watches as you make a beeline for the nearest exit of the school.

“I thought you said she was fine.” Peter says, strolling up next to Gwen.

“I thought you said I got this.” She quickly retorts, hoping he didn’t see your hands or eyes.

“Yeah, well look how that went.” He responds back.

He takes a few steps to walk after you, but comes to an instant halt. Peter turns on his heels and walks back up to Gwen.

“I’m sorry, that was sort of rude.” He apologizes sincerely. He looks back at the door you stormed out of and back at Gwen once more, “I’m just worried about her. Something is telling me to go check on her.”

He lightly jogs to the exit before Gwen can spit out another lie to protect you. Peter pushes the door open with determination, the cool wind breezing against his face. His head snaps left and right, looking for any sign of you.

A group of girls chatting.

Someone rushing through their homework.

A guy skating across campus.

“There she is.” Peter mumbles when he finally spots you.

He’s able to take one step before being yanked backwards by his backpack.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Parker? It’s not even lunch yet.” He hears the voice of his principal.

“Uhh I have gym class next. I was just going to get a head start on my mile.” Peter lies through his teeth with a sheepish grin.

He might be good at fighting crime and protecting his neighborhood, but if there’s one thing Peter can’t do to save his life, it’s lie.

The principal obviously saw right through him and chuckled dryly. With a firm grip still on his backpack, Peter gets walked back into the hallways of his school. His principal even takes it upon himself to watch the young boy walk into his next class, earning laughs and taunts from Mj.

- - - - -

It was only a few minutes into physics whenever Peter’s senses started sounding off alarms in his head again. His eyes scan the classroom, every student with their heads down and focused on their work. He glances at the teacher, who is steadily typing away at her laptop.

“Psst. Ned!”

Ned, who is sitting directly in front of him, turns around, surely prepared to make some outlandish comment. However, upon seeing the worry on his friend’s face, he decides against it.

“Spidey sense?” Ned asks simply.

Peter frantically nods his head, “I’m almost positive it’s Y/n. It feels different. It feels the same way it did whenever I thought she was being followed.”

He takes one more anxious glance around the classroom to make sure none of his classmates were eavesdropping.

“I need you to create a distraction.”

Ned gives him a single nod before swiveling his seat back to its prior position. He obnoxiously clears his throat, “Uh ma’am, I think there’s a mistake on this paper. Here let me show you.” He rises from his seat and as soon as he does, everyone hears a mysterious low rumble.

Peter and Ned make eye contact, knowing that it’s already too late. Whatever Peter was being warned about is already happening. Without a single notice, the entire school is shook by a harsh vibration.

Boom

The students begin to talk amongst themselves worriedly before another vibration strikes. Panicked yelps scattering all around the classroom.

Boom

“Everyone stay calm. There’s no need to get worked up.” The teacher attempts to calm the students, despite sounding panicked herself.

If every fiber in Peter wasn’t going haywire already, there’s no doubt that they are now. It’s almost like he can felt the movements before they happen. He flies out of his chair and peers out the window.

He’s not sure if what he’s witnessing can be seen by everyone or if it’s just his heightened senses. “What the hell is that?” He mumbles to himself.

Peter watches as a violent ray of purple aura heads straight for them, everything in its way viciously convulsing. His heart rate quickens as he turns to face his classmates.

“Everybody get down!” He shouts, the people surrounding him do not waste a second to fling themselves onto the floor.

Peter grabs a hold of Ned and together they hit the deck just in time.

Boom!

A purple wave is washed over them, shattering the large windows in the process. Glass flies everywhere as the terrified shrieks of each individual fills the air.

The wave left just as quick as it came. Peter and Ned are the firsts to pop up from the ground, breathing heavily with shaky limbs. They look out of the broken window and are absolutely astonished by the amount of destruction that was caused in such little time.

“Still think it’s Y/n?” Ned chuckles in amazement.

Peter doesn’t answer because at this point he doesn’t know what to think. He definitely doesn’t want to rule it out. Whether it was you or not, he can only hope that you’re okay...wherever you are.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, we need to evacuate now! Get on your feet and start calling your parents, we need to move!” The teacher instructs.

Everyone hurriedly follows in pursuit.

- - - - -

You let out a groan as you slowly pick yourself up from the floor of the dirty alleyway. Aside from being a little lightheaded and having a slight sharp pain on your side, you’re feeling 100 times better.

You dust yourself off, taking another look around as you do so.

Okay. Maybe that stone isn’t amethyst after all. You admit to yourself.

A dry cough erupts from your throat as you begin to walk to... well you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t want to go home yet, just in case an episode like this happens again. You wouldn’t want to put Alice in danger.

Just as you exit the dimly lit backstreet, an old man with thinning white hair and a white mustache to match it speed walks over to you.

“It’s the damn aliens!” He shouts as he whips out a tinfoil hat.

Where did he get that from??

“It’s the aliens, I say! They’ve finally arrived!” The man continues to yell as he carries on.

He wasn’t the only one in a frenzy. Everyone roamed the streets talking to one another. Theorizing what great threat they think has struck New York now, complaining about their vehicles, using some pretty strong language.

The pit of anxiety residing in your stomach quickly turns to guilt. You’re fully aware that you couldn’t control your actions, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still caused all of this damage. The further you walk, the guiltier you begin to feel.

How far did it reach?

You thought you only affected a block or two at most, but now you are starting to believe you victimized the entire city.

“Kid!” You hear a familiar voice.

You snap your head to the left and see a black vehicle with tinted windows. In the backseat sits none other than Tony Stark.

“You are in huge trouble. Amethyst crystal my ass.” He scolds.

The door pops open, “Get in.”

Not having the energy to argue back, you slide yourself into the car.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” you clarify.

“Well I sure hope not. Happy, to the tower.”

The drive wasn’t long, only about 20 minutes, but the silence made it feel like hours. You’ve tried apologizing multiple times, but every single time you were dismissed by the lift of a hand.

Once in the tower, you didn’t even have time to look around in wonder at all the high tech features of the place. You were put in a room with Tony sitting directly in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes focused on you, and his leg is bouncing so fast he could drill a hole in the ground. He still has yet to speak a single word.

You open your mouth to say something, but your phone begins to vibrate. Instead of answering, you freeze, not wanting to make Stark even more upset, if that’s possible. You also don’t want to see all the angry texts from Aunt Alice.

“You gonna get that?” Tony questions.

“Oh, he speaks.” You attempt to make a joke, but you’re the only one laughing.

Your smile falters as you take your phone out of your pocket to see who’s calling. Peter.

The smile returns once you lay eyes on the goofy contact picture he took on your phone. As much as you want to answer, you figured it would be better to wait for another time. It would be sort of hard to explain everything. Especially while Tony is shooting daggers into your head.

You take a swift scroll through your texts.

Gwen: That was so cool and kinda scary at the same time! Was that you??

Peter: Hey! Don’t mean to bother, I just wanna check up on you. Sorry I say that a lot haha.

Peter: Text me back when you’re feeling better. I hope you’re okay!

Alice: Y/n, you NEED to call me back. NOW!

Alice: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if you’re safe.

Peter: I also want to say thank you for standing up to Flash for me. Even though I totally could’ve taken him myself! Okay okay, sorry for triple texting!

You send Alice a simple message back just to ease her nerves and not ground you before locking your phone.

You look up to see Tony still staring at you quite intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he hasn’t blinked yet. You clear your throat.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I really didn’t mean for-“

He cuts you off, “No no no, it doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. That’s not going to reverse what you just did!”

His tone of voice makes your heart shudder, the guilt you were feeling from earlier returning. You decide not to talk again unless he tells you to.

Stark runs a hand through his hair in frustration before cradling his left hand as he pushes himself out of his seat.

“I know you couldn’t control it.” His tone is softer now. “It’s not fair for me to take my anger out on you, I’m sorry.”

You still don’t dare to say another word. He sighs and walks over to the window that has a perfect view of the city.

“I’m not really angry. I’m just...scared.” Tony admits.

This is not the man you’ve been seeing all over the news for years. Tony Stark has never been one to be so vulnerable and open about his feelings. Or anything for that matter. You sure as hell didn’t expect a superhero to ever get scared, much less admit it to someone he barely met yesterday.

“Scared of what?” You ask quietly.

He turns and makes eye contact with you once again, but this time you don’t feel like he’s ready to attack. There’s a beat of contemplation coming from him before he says, “The little outburst you had might’ve sent a signal to a really bad guy. A really bad, really powerful guy. His intentions aren’t the best, and it won’t be long until he comes here.”

You blink a couple of times trying to process what he’s telling you. If an avenger is this scared of some “guy”, then you really have a situation on your hands.

“He’s coming for me?” You squeak.

Tony returns to his seat in front of you, “Not technically. But he will be coming for the stone that you have locked away in a desk drawer.”

“So if I’m in the way...”

“He won’t be afraid to move you.” Stark affirms.

You sink down in your chair, taking it all in. How has your life completely flipped upside in just two days. Two days! Just as you might finally get a chance with Peter after crushing on him for so long, you possibly just devastated the entire city. Maybe the entire country. Maybe the planet. You don’t really know how bad it is, but you feel too sick to your stomach to bother asking.

“How long until this dude gets here.” You ask.

Tony snorts at your usage of the word “dude” when describing someone who has destroyed multiple planets, but of course, you don’t know that yet.

“Our very own time telling wizard gives us about a week. A week and a half, if we’re lucky.” He answers.

“Great.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

You take a look at Tony, who sends you a sympathetic smile. You return a defeated one, tears burning at the corner of your eyes.

“We’re not going down without a fight, kid. That’s the one thing I can promise you.” He says sincerely, trying to make you feel better.

Although you appreciate the sentiment, you don’t respond in fear that the lump in your throat will make your voice crack. Instead you change the subject.

“Why do you keep nursing your arm like it’s a defenseless baby goat?” You ask, earning a hearty laugh from the man in front of you.

“Well after 10 years of being one of earth’s mightiest heroes, you’re gonna walk away with some battle scars.” Tony explains.

You let out a light chuckle, almost forgetting exactly who you’re talking to. With a smirk on your face, you stand on your feet and walk towards him, “May I?”

He scoffs and gives you a strange look, but nonetheless, offers his hand. You take it with both of yours and close your eyes. It isn’t long until you feel the warmth of your energy flowing through your veins and to your palms. Tony watches in amazement as his hand is engulfed by the same sensation that shook the city just hours ago.

You finally let go and open your eyes just in time to see the dumbfounded look on his face. He closes his hand into a fist, and then opens it as he wiggles his fingers around.

“Who’s the happy fingers now?” You tease. “I can’t heal 10 years of injury after injury in one sitting, but it should feel a little better now.”

Tony is still shocked beyond belief. All he can do is let out small breathy chuckles and stare at this hand that’s nearly good as new.

“Y/n.” He manages to say.

You’re shocked to hear him say your actual name. Weirded out even.

Stark finally puts down his hand and gives you a look of astonishment.

“How would you like to be an avenger?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. Tony Stark, aka IRONMAN, wants you to be an avenger. After you’ve wrecked miles and miles of property, he’s asking you to be an avenger?!

“What? I mean...w-what?!” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to- even after every- I can’t..I-I..” All you can do is stammer.

“Well don’t say yes too quick” Stark rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just that I didn’t even know the avengers were a thing anymore. I also don’t know the first thing about being a superhero. All I do is heal tiny animals and cure hangovers.” You ramble.

Tony stands whiles still wiggling his hand around, enjoying the extra mobility it suddenly has. “And if you can do what you did today in a more controlled manner, you’ll be unstoppable. A bit of combat training wouldn’t hurt either.”

You think it over in your head. What he’s saying makes a lot of sense. You still don’t know what happened to you today, and you’d love nothing more than to figure it out. Tony is the perfect person to help with that.

Being an avenger is a lot of pressure though. Only a week and a half to train and fight some “really bad, really powerful guy”? It’s impossible. You’d be way over your head. You would get yourself killed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Stark saying, practically reading your mind. “But I believe you can do it, and I’m never wrong. Scratch Saturday, you’re coming in tomorrow for immediate testing and training. Expect to be here all day.” He orders, returning back to his assertive persona.

All day tomorrow?

“I actually can’t tomorrow, Mr. Stark sir.” You say a little under your breath.

“You what now?” Tony stops in his tracks.

“I-I can’t come tomorrow. I’m going to a party, I sorta have a date.” You explain, getting quieter and quieter after hearing how pathetic you sound.

It’s his turn to laugh incredulously, “Yeah, sweet cheeks, and the world is sorta in immortal danger. I’ll let Happy know he needs to take you home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You don’t bother trying to protest or be a smart ass because he makes a very valid point. “See you tomorrow.” you say, mostly to yourself.

- - - - -

Three knocks echo from your bedroom door as you sit at your desk doing some chemistry homework.

“Hey hun! I brought oranges slices.” Your Aunt Alice shuffles past the doorframe. As she comes closer, the brightest smile on her face, You notice she made a smiley face on the plate full of poorly cut oranges.

You let out a giggle and set down your pencil, “Thank you Ali, they look great!” You begin to eat the juicy treat while Alice takes in the atmosphere of your room.

“Those weird earthquakes were crazy today, huh?” She absentmindedly makes conversation.

“Earthquakes. Right. Yeah it was crazy. They really shook me at the core.” You say sarcastically, soaking in the irony.

Alice only hums in response. You watch her eyes dart from your trophies and then to the chair with clothes piled on it and then to the plants perched on your window until they finally land on the picture of her, your mom, and yourself.

It was your 11th birthday and you had cake smeared all across your face. The memory is so vivid, you can still hear the beautiful melody of your mother’s laugh dancing through the air. It’s the last picture you have of her.

“I miss her too.” You speak quietly, fearing if you spoke too loudly, the memory would go away.

Her gaze returns to you, tears brimming her eyes and her smile a little less bright. “You remind me of her so much, Y/n.” All you can offer her is a warm smile.

You’ve already cried all the tears you had left. You clear your throat, “Thanks again for the oranges, Ali.”

She wipes the tears that manage to break free before placing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Take out will be here soon.” She informs as she exits the room, her cheerful tone returning.

“Sounds good.” You respond.

You take one more glance at the picture of the three of you before getting back to work. However, like most things here lately, you didn’t get very far.

“Shoo, shoo! Stupid bird. I hate you!” You hear a muffled voice coming from outside. You wouldn’t have found this odd, if you weren’t on the fourth floor of an apartment complex.

You rush over to your window and peek outside, and much to your surprise you see just the person you needed to see. You snicker before unlocking your window and pushing it up.

“Peter, what are you doing up here?” You whisper.

“Oh, ya know, just...fighting some birds.” He chuckles weakly at being caught.

You smile wildly at the sound of his voice and the sight of him covered in feathers. You’re feeling too giddy to even question how he got up here. “Get in!” You move out of the way so he can crawl into your room.

Oh my god. Peter Parker is in my bedroom!

You hurry to shut the door, so Alice doesn’t see a boy in your room. You turn back around to see Peter stealthily make his way past your potted plants. He hops in with a soft grunt.

“Hi.” He says shyly once he finally looks at you.

“Hi.” You say back in the same tone.

Peter looks down at his hands, causing you to just notice he’s holding a plastic bag. “Um this is for you. You never answered my texts so I thought I should just...sneak by.”

You take the bag from him and sit on your bed, Peter copying your actions. Your breath hitches as your shoulders touch.

OH MY GOD!

You pull yourself together enough to take a look in the bag.

There are several things inside. Two chocolate bars, your favorite ice cream, a large bottle of water, a box of tissues, and a dvd of your favorite movie.

You look towards Peter with the softest smile to ever lie upon your lips.

“What’s all this for?” You nearly whisper, your heart aching at the gesture.

“Gwen mentioned that it was that time of the month for you, so I brought you some things. I asked her for your favorite snacks and stuff.” He explains as his face burns with a rosy tint.

You’re not on your period, so you just assume that Gwen covered for you earlier today. She could’ve come up with literally anything else because her lie is kind of embarrassing, but you’re not complaining at the moment.

After you don’t saying anything in response, Peter starts to ramble nervously. “I’ve seen this movie once, it’s pretty good! I don’t know if it’s Star Wars level good, but I’d recommend it to someone. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I brought you a copy. If it’s your favorite movie, you probably already have it so that’s kinda stupid of me I guess. Did you know that-“

You could listen to this boy talk for hours and hours, but for now, you interrupt him with a tight hug. It takes him a second to process, his mind and his heart going just as crazy as yours. He recoups soon, wrapping his arms tightly around your lower back.

“Thank you, Peter. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I just wanted to make your rough day a little better.”

And that, he did. More than he even knows. The two of you hug for a little while longer before pulling apart, your faces only inches away from each other.

You gulp as you look into his brown eyes. You’ve never seen them this close before. Chills are sent down Peter’s spine, but for a different reason this time. A better reason.

His eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans in and you mirror his movements.

It’s finally happening, and so fast too! Peter Parker is now literally in the palm of your hands. You try your best to maintain your excitement. Another uncontrollable episode is not what you need right now.

You can basically feel his lips on yours already. Your first kiss with Peter...

“Y/n! The food is here!”

...was too good to be true. Of course.

The sound of Alice’s voice makes you and Peter jolt to opposite ends of the bed. You run your hands over your face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah Alice, I’ll be right there!”

The air becomes still as you and Peter look at everything in the room except for each other. He’s the first to speak up, “Well uh, I should let you go eat.” He rubs his hands on his legs.

“Yeah I probably shouldn’t keep my aunt waiting. She’s scary when she’s hangry.” You joke to lighten the mood.

You both share a small laugh before you walk Peter over to the window he’d just entered through.

“Thank you again for everything. You’re a really good friend.”

He doesn’t show it, but that word just stabbed him in the heart. Friend.

“Anything for you, Y/n/n. You should go, I don’t want you to see me climbing these walls.” Peter says truthfully, but plays it off as a joke.

You laugh along with him, “Call me if you hurt yourself. I have ways to fix ya up.” You say truthfully as well.

Neither of you catch on to the other’s honesty.

You give each other an endearing smile before parting way.

Once your back is turned, you whisper to yourself, “Friend? Why did I say that?”

Here’s one more thing to beat yourself up about all night long.

“Y/n, The food!” Alice yells, the hunger taking over.

“I’m coming!” You should in an equally frustrated tone, but because of a different type of hunger.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Sorry it took a while to post this chapter!! I tried making it longer than the others to make up for it :)

Omgg my Tom fic, The “Friendship” Test is currently sitting at 800+ notes, that’s insane!! Thank you guys so much, I know I say that a lot but I truly mean it!

((excuse any typos, i write at night))

tag list 🏷 (lmk if i missed you or if you want to be added!)

@jackiehollanderr @crazylittlereader2474

@phantomhrt @sassystay-bunny @sltwins

@bigassnocash @pignolithecookie

@big-galaxy-chaos @lilyblackx @jjjmaybank

@peterandtom @meilikki

@the-avengers-assembling @voldyphobia

@lumiees @frostay

@lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker

@mikaofasgard @empath-bunny

@neoneun-nananeun-neo @themoonlightofari

[fangirlfics]

Trouble Sleeping (Loki x reader)

I swear if this deletes for a third time Im gonna cry 

KINDA A SLOW BURN BOIS

also I didn’t finish reading it over for mistakes bc I’m lazy 

summary: y/n and Loki used to be very close friends and sometimes when she had bad nightmares he’d use his magic to calm her mind, a few years have passed and they’ve grown apart. Her nightmares come back and hesitantly she seeks Loki’s help again 

word count: 3,592 wahahahaha

y/n leaned over one of the balconies that overlooked the kingdom’s private garden. The weather was perfect, the temperature ideal, sky blue, and the plants were all thriving feet below her. Despite the scenery however y/n’s attention was fixated elsewhere. 

Down in the depths of the garden, propped up on one of the fancy golden benches was the youngest Asgardian prince-Loki. His dark raven hair was combed back as he turned to the next page in his novel, the cover matching the shade of green displayed on his clothes. y/n couldn’t help but sigh as she watched the handsome prince, they had once had an unbreakable bond. It was always Loki and y/n-best friends, one wouldn’t be seen without the other. But somewhere among their late teenage years, Loki had become more cold and distant towards y/n-leaving her alone in the giant halls of the castle to wander alone. That’s when her and Thor’s relationship grew stronger-she had always been friends with the God of Thunder but after her and Loki’s relationship crumbled to pieces he was there to cheer her up. 

“Oh there you are!” Thor’s voice boomed-pulling y/n from her daydream. y/n glanced once more at Loki before turning her attention to her tall friend. “I was looking for you!” He beamed. 

“What can I do for you, your highness?” y/n asked with a playful voice.

Thor smiled, putting his hands together before continuing, “I was hoping that you would join me and-” his words faded as he glanced down to the gardens and caught sight of Loki. y/n’s attention soon turned to the railing in front of her as she traced her fingers along it’s smooth surface. “You still watch him.” Thor told her, his normally enthusiastic voice was now dry and serious. “How long have you been thinking of him?”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, playing with her fingers. “I never stopped.” She confessed, “I know it’s foolish but I can’t help it, I..miss him more than I can even begin to explain.”

Thor was silent as he watched the girl glance back down at the gardens then to the sky. “Let’s go...horseback riding.” He suggested, getting y/n attention. “To lift your spirits, we can go with Sif a-”

“No.“ y/n blurted out, “nobody else-I don’t want to embarrass myself again by falling off my horse.“

Thor chuckled, “nobody is going to think low of you-” he looked at y/n once more sensing her silent plea ”very well then, just us.” He agreed, making her smile.

“Thank you.” She laughed, giving him a hug. It caught Thor by surprise but he then loosely wrapped his arms around y/n in return. “Thank you for everything,” y/n whispered, “really, I don’t know what’d I’d do without you. I’m blessed to have a friend like you.”

“Of course.” 

Neither of the two friends noticed that down in the gardens Loki clenched his jaw, snapping his book shut and silently retreated to his room-they also didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes staring through the window at them, when they returned laughing on horseback. 

_____________________________________________________________

 There was fire everywhere, thick black smoke made it impossible for her to breath. She was choking-desperate for air. She fell to the ground as the fire closed in quickly-it’s heat trapping her in the room. There was no hope, no help was coming and it was impossible to escape, with a loud crack the ceiling caved in leaving her trapped screaming out as the furious flames burned her alive. 

y/n woke up with a start, beads of sweat lined her forehead although her room was cool and she found that her hands were shaking. Realizing it was just a dream she lied back down, covering her face with her hands as she tried desperately to fall back asleep. She got no more sleep that night.

The same thing happened again in the coming days and three days later while in training, y/n who was running on less than four hours of sleep was doing rather well. In one quick movement she jumped up-kicking the sword right out of Fandral’s grip. 

“Very good!” Volstagg commented from across the room.

“Yes.” Fandral agreed, “show me that move and I’ll show you some of mine.” He winked.

“Just give me a time and place.” y/n responded playfully, earning a laugh. 

“Impressive.” Fandral commented at her response. (she normally responded to his joke flirting with an eye roll) 

“Yes impressive.” Loki commented from behind Fandral. “That y/n can apparently chase after two men at once.” He said this while staring casually at Thor. Sif went stiff inder the tension and Thor opened his mouth but y/n spoke first.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Well by the looks of it, you can’t seem to decide between Thor and-” 

“Brother that’s enough.” Thor warned, taking a step forward.

“I’m just putting out a warning, you do know what they say about these sort of things.” Loki remarked, not meeting her eyes.

“You know full well that I am not chasing after anyone.” y/n said, growing aggravated. 

“It sure seems that way.”He then opened the door to the room and left.

“You know what?” y/n responded, dropping her sword to the ground with a loud clang “I am tired of this.”

 “y/n I think it best if you ignore him.” Sif spoke up, “nobody is accusing you of anything, we all know you aren’t that sort of person-”

“Thank you Sif, but I am not taking this.“ y/n exited the room in pursuit of Loki, who was a few paces ahead of her walking calmly. 

“I don’t like being followed.“ He simply called out to her, because his room was only about a minute walk away from the training room he reached it fairly quickly.

“What is your problem?“ y/n asked him, putting her foot in between the door and it’s frame as Loki was about to shut it.

“I don’t have a problem, now if you’d excuse me I’d like you to leave me alone.“ 

 “Then leave me alone.” She huffed, “hold your silvertongue and stop acting as if you’re above me because you’re not.”

“Is that all?“ He asked her calmly, “you’re done with your childish tantrum?” 

“Oh you are so-“ y/n narrowed her eyes.

“So what?“ Loki asked with an eye roll.

“Terrible.“ y/n blurted, earning a cold laugh from the God of Mischief.

“So I’ve been told.“ He stated bored.

“No, I mean you’re really terrible and for so many reasons.”

“Such as?“  

“You want a list?“ y/n asked with a bitter laugh, “ok well you think you’re better than everyone and you’re not, you poke fun at other people because it’s amusing to you and-and everyone-I mean everyone thinks that you’re a snake, ever since we were younger, and I can’t believe I’m just now realizing that..they’re probably right.“ He swallowed hard furrowing his eyebrows, “you used to be my best friend Loki, I’d defend you from people’s accusations when you weren’t around and..I wasted my time because you are everything people say you are and worst.“ She saw the look in his eye, she hurt him-good now he understood how it felt. 

Loki glanced away-looking down at the girl again. “Is that all?” He asked, trying desperately to remain collected. y/n scoffed. “You may think you know me but I know you much more, don’t forget, I’ve been inside your head. People may think I’m a bad person but I can live with that, you on the other hand can’t stand the fact that someone might not like you, so much so that you’ll break down about it. You’re a weak fighter, you’re not as clever or as witty as you seem to think, and frankly I don’t understand the fascination Thor seems to have with you, you’re nothing special.”  

y/n pulled her foot from the doorway. What happened to us? She was about to cry and she did not want him seeing that. “Is that all?” She asked, reciting his previous question.

“Yes.“ He spat coldly. 

“Good.“ She turned to walk away as Loki stayed in his place trying to keep the impression that he didn’t care.

Late at night y/n tossed and turned in her bed, trying to fall asleep after waking up from a particularly realistic dream-she had thought that by laying still she’d trick her body into falling asleep but that didn’t happen. She knew that she had been able to power through the last few days with almost no sleep-but she’d certainly crash if she didn’t get any sleep soon. The thought of making a visit to Loki for help came to her mind, but she really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted/needed his help. Screw it. She thought after another couple of hours, her clock read 2:35 as she swung her legs over her bed and slipped on her slippers and robe. 

The halls were dark and empty except for the occasional guards, which she was careful to avoid (she didn’t want to raise any suspicion). Thank God her room was only a three minute walk from Loki’s. It was once she was already in front of Loki’s door that she started getting second thoughts, but she was there already and the worst that could happen was getting the door slammed in her face or no answer. She raised her cold knuckle, letting it hover over the door’s fine wood before knocking. “It’s y/n..” She announced barely above a whisper, “trust me I really don’t want to ask for your help but I see no other option an-”

The door opened a small crack. “you do realize what time it is, right?” Loki’s annoyed voice asked-he didn’t sound like he had just woken up, maybe he was having trouble sleeping also.

“I know.” At her response Loki opened the door wider, revealing himself in a pair of emerald colored pajamas. “Look I know-” at the sound of approaching footsteps (guards) Loki stepped aside, giving her a cue to get in. She did, turning to face him one he closed the door again-his back facing the door he put his hands on his hips.

“What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep.” She said sheepishly, “I just-I’m getting the same nightmares again and I thought that maybe just this once you could, you know..” She put hands up, wiggling her fingers to imitate magic.

Loki rolled his eyes, “first off that’s not at all how magic looks, second why should I help you?”

“Just this once!“ y/n practically begged, “please. I’ve have not been sleeping at all I just need one hour. I won’t make you sleep on my couch like I did when we were younger, you can just...alter my thoughts or something and I’ll leave and-” 

“Fine.“ Loki agreed, grumpily. He walked back over to his bed, getting in between the covers on the left side. “Well?“ He asked when she stared blankly at him. He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously if you go back to your room I won’t be able to sense when I have to alter your thoughts and you’ll just come back to make a racket when you have another nightmare.“ y/n nodded slowly, making her way to the right side of the bed. “Besides it’s a big bed, just stay on that side-away from me.” She laid down, hesitant at first as she tightened her robe around herself. Loki leaned over, placing a finger and thumb over her temples to enter her mind. 

When she woke up she was in the same exact position that she was in when she went to bed and Loki was standing directly above her looking annoyed once again. It was still dark outside as he looked down at her from where he stood. “It’s about time, I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last two minutes.”

“What time is it?“

“6:05..the castles about to start waking up, you should leave before more people get uo to avoid being seen.“ y/n nodded in agreement. 

“Ok“ she walked to his door, turning to watch as he laid back down in his bed. “And Loki..“

“What?“ He sighed.

“Thank you.“ She said softly, leaving the room right after. Loki was left surprised.

“Look I know I said just once-” y/n whispered that night outside of Loki’s door, it was past 2 a.m. again, but surprisingly Loki let her in again.

“The faster you stop pestering me, the better.“ Loki told her harshly. He had woken her up at 6 a.m. again like he had done the the last time. The time after that Loki woke her up at 7 and the time after that she had woken up past 8 to see Loki sitting in a chair some feet from her sharpening his knives-when she had asked him why he hadn’t woken her up he had simply reminded that he could just teleport her back to her room, that way nobody would know she had spent the night there.

Flash forward a month later, y/n tiptoed to Loki’s room in her nightgown again, the nights were getting hotter which had led to her to leave her robe behind. When she had reached Loki’s room she didn’t need to knock, since he now left it unlocked for her. 

Once she laid down on the right side of the bed (more towards the middle now rather than all the way on the edge) Loki laid down about a foot from her. They didn’t go to bed right then however, since they had formed a habit of talking before falling asleep. “Have you been sleeping better?” Loki asked the girl beside him.

“yes.” 

“Good...”

y/n rolled onto her side to face Loki, “Thank you again.” He nodded. “You know for someone who hates me, you’re actually quite kind to me.” The corner of Loki’s mouth folded up slightly,

“I don’t hate you...” He rolled over onto his side to face her, “but what I do hate-“ he then had explained the entire plot of a book just to express his hatred for one detail in it. 

y/n woke up in the middle of the night with a start, her nightmares had came back. As it turned out Loki wasn’t in the room but when he got back with a glass of water he noticed she was off right away. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, sitting beside her, “I was just-I didn’t think-”   

“I know, it’s fine.“ y/n told him, but his hand was still on her shoulder and his blue eyes still held worry in them. “I’m just-I’m going back to bed...“ Loki nodded, watching as she laid down again. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?“ She nodded.

As she began drifting off she felt Loki take her hand in his. Later on in the night y/n woke up randomly, but she wasn’t facing Loki anymore-instead she was facing his dim window, she felt warm but not from the covers and to her surprise she realized that the prince’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close. Their legs were tangled mess at the bottom of the bed and she could hear his slow breathing as he slept peacefully. She looked around slowly, trying to figure out a way to move away to avoid the embarrassment when he wakes up-but just as she began to shift around she heard him speak up. “What time is it?” up. 

“Sorry...” She apologized growing red, “I don’t know how-“  

“It’s fine.“ She heard Loki whisper. 

“It is?“

“This is quite comfortable.“ He whispered again, then he moved slightly closer-resting his head on her shoulder and he fell asleep again-she assumed that he was half awake and didn’t fully process what had happened. She decided it didn’t matter and fell asleep again, after all he wasn’t wrong-it was comfortable.  

There was a loud noise that woke y/n right up, making her jump. Now she realized that she was facing Loki again, her arms were wrapped around his neck like in a hug, his head was nuzzled in the crook of her neck-their legs still a tangled mess. Bang! Bang! There it was again, she lifted her head, looking towards the door as it came again-bang! Bang! 

“Loki” She whispered, gently shaking his sleeping form. He ignored it, pulling her closer in response instead. “Loki, someone’s at the door.” She whispered, trying not to laugh. He sighed looking up towards his door.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away it’s probably a servant or-”

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from the other side of the door, “Loki, I know you’re in there! Open the door.” Loki rolled his eyes, standing up to make his way towards the door. 

He opened the door a few inches, “what do you want?” He hissed.

“I-” Thor paused, “are wearing your nightwear?”

“Why is that of any importance-what do you want?”

“er, Loki is there someone in there with you?“ Thor asked. 

y/n held her breath, afraid that somehow Thor would hear her from the doorway. “I-no!” Loki snapped, “What are you talking about?”

“Alright, alright I apologize. I’m here to ask if you have seen y/n? I’ve been searching for her, she’s normally turned up somewhere at this time it’s past 10.” 

“No I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her. Check the garden, she’s most likely wandering around there.“ He shut the door, turning back to y/n. 

“Past 10?“ y/n asked, covering her mouth, “I should’ve been awake two hours ago.” Loki shrugged. “Can you teleport me back to my room, I should go to the gardens since Thor’s looking for me.” Loki looked at the ground with an unfamiliar look in his eyes before nodding. “Thank you.”

The girl had spent more time with Thor training than she had expected that day, leading her to take an extra long shower at night to get clean. She hadn’t realized until she looked at her clock that it was past 10-normally she’d already be at Loki’s room by now. Quickly she dried her hair and changed into her nightwear. 

She was about to leave and opened her door and unexpectedly Loki was there with his hand raised looking like he was about to knock. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke up, “Loki? What are you doing here?” 

He glanced to the side, not wanting to meet here eyes as she awaited his response, “I thought..” he said glancing at the ground before back to her, regaining his composure “that you-“

“Weren’t coming?“ She finished for him, he nodded.

“So I came to see if you were ok, I’ll leave.“

“Wait, no.“ She told him, grabbing his wrist and taking him by surprise, “I was just coming it was just taking me longer, but you can sleep here if you want since you’re already here...?” He nodded in agreement, stepping into her room.

He settled himself into the bed, opening his arms for her to crawl into which she quickly did. The two laid there for a moment, listening to the quietness as Loki slowly brushed through her hair with his fingers.      

“remember the other day when I said that you were terrible?“ y/n suddenly asked, getting Loki’s attention. He stopped running his fingers through her hair. 

“Yes, why do you ask?“ He responded cautiously. 

“I was just mad at you. I’m sorry.“

He took a moment to think to himself, “I didn’t mean what I said either."

“Can I ask you something?” y/n asked after a while later.

“What?”

“Why did you push me away?” She asked, shifting herself to meet his eyes.

Loki sighed-only it wasn’t from being aggravated this time. He backed up a few inches from y/n-staring straight up at the ceiling. “It’s because..”

“Because what?”

“I had noticed that you and Thor were becoming closer and decided to..abandon you before you did me. I thought it’d hurt less that way.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, everyone always seems to choose Thor over me, I just assumed you would, in time, do the same.“ He confessed, still not meeting her gaze. 

“Loki...“ she set her hand on his shoulder waiting for him to look at her. “I would never abandon you for Thor, sure Thor is my friend but so is Fandral, so is Volstagg, so is Sif and I’m not abandoning anyone for them.“

He nodded.

“And tonight..“ y/n spoke up again, “when you thought I wasn’t coming-“

“I assumed you wouldn’t need me anymore, especially after you had spent so much time with Thor.“

“Loki!“

“What?“

“Don’t be like that!“ y/n told him, sitting up, “I do need you! I’ll always need you, I need you don’ t doubt that, and not just because of stupid nightmares, because I care for you and I love you, ok?”

Loki smiled to himself, “you love me?“

“Yes you stupid-“ she stopped talking because Loki had leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, taking no time to hesitate she leaned into him further deepening the kiss. After about a minute they pulled apart-resting their foreheads together. 

“I love you too.“

[spenciegoob]

The 4 Types of Manipulation

A/N: hey hey hey cuties... just thought I’d drop in to tell you I love you and Harry Styles at the Grammy’s, oh and Miley Cyrus in general. Okay that’s it.

Summary: Spencer has to interrogate an unsub, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Not fluff, but not angst... angsty fluff? fluffy angst?

Content Warning: mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of sex in the form of flirting, mentions of drug use, mentions of emotional abuse

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8K

____

Nobody dared to take a breath out of place, every profiler was packed into the room watching with careful eyes at the sobbing girl in the interrogation room through the glass. No one knew what their first step should be, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? Winging it was not something anyone in the BAU enjoyed doing, each case needed a thought out plan.

But they’ve seen this unsub before, they know the profile, the history, they know her. So why was she crying so hard that the weight of her head became unbearable, leaving her only option to sob into the crooks of her elbows as best as she could with wrists cuffed to the table?

Nobody knew, except for Spencer Reid.

Emily was hesitant, as expected, to blindly send in one of the best agents she’s ever seen into the room that with each tear shed slowly morphed into a lion’s den. Reid deserved better, she knew that, especially since the last time they dealt with an unsub like this one, Spencer had to be so far out of the loop that the case almost broke him.

He put up a good fight though, and if the determination set in his eyes wasn’t enough to inform the unit chief that she was not winning this argument, his deviance to storm through the door, startling the young woman chained down definitely did.

Why was it always Spencer?

Tears:

“P-please, I didn’t do anything.” Those were the first words anyone’s heard her say since the arrest, even if they were separated by sniffles and choked out sobs. 

Spencer just stared down at her, not taking the risk to further entertain the stuttering girl with wet cheeks and tired eyes.

“I promise I’m not a murderer. You have to believe me, please.” That promise whispered so quietly made with unbreakable eye contact urged him to take a second to reevaluate the situation.

She was apprehended in place of Jacob Hughes, the man they had originally been looking for. There was a chance she wasn’t complicit, a chance she was innocent. Maybe Jacob placed a hair of hers at the latest crime scene because he knew they were closing in.

Or maybe she is just as sick as he is. 

“Prove it,” Spencer said, his tone loud and assertive, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t plan on fighting his demand anyway.

“I- I haven’t seen Jacob for days. He drugged those men, and did h-horrible things. Those poor men.” This struck a nerve, everybody could tell, even the one person in this interaction that wasn’t a profiler. 

Spencer’s shoulders tensed for a millisecond, but she saw it. She saw what her words were doing to him, after all, he used to be one of those poor men she felt so sorry for.

Another loud sob echoed off the concrete walls before she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe he mur... did that to them. H-how could he?” Spencer watched as the young girl looked up to him like he held the answer to the million dollar question. He studied the way her eyes bounced around his face, looking for something, anything to relieve some confusion when it came to her fiancé.

“Jacob Hughes is what we call a vindictive narcissist and a sadist. He receives pleasure from hurting others, and in this case, drugging and torturing men because he feels he’s been wronged his whole life. The question, however, is why. I know you know, just like how I know you’re aware of his crimes.”

It was a blow so low it could’ve come from hell itself. Spencer regretted it immediately when he watched the way her whole body stiffened at the mention of her knowledge, but he had to be certain no matter the fallout.

“I-I still don’t understand. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.” Denial, guilt and fear all jam packed into 3 little words that had his heart dangerously close to breaking. The sorrow in her eyes believable enough that Spencer left his standing position between the suspect and the door to sit directly across from her.

She watched his movements with careful eyes, only stealing glances from her peripherals before returning to her cuffed wrists.

“Maybe you’ve never seen him physically hurt anyone, but we know what he does to you.” It was the first and only time Spencer let any emotion, as fake as it was, show in his responses. How could he not try when the girl resumed her sobbing at the implication of her past deception from the man she loves? 

“You know nothing,” she whispered back, her tone laced with defensive anger.

“I know everything.” Was he challenging her?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she challenging him?

“You know what it means.” Yes, he was.

“Do I?” Yes, she was.

The two stared at each other for the entire tone shift in the stuffy interrogation room. The other profilers on the other side of the mirror had no knowledge of how thick the tension had just become because unlike Spencer, they weren’t standing in the middle of it.

Small sniffles were the only noise breaking through the quiet until suddenly, they just stopped.

“Ugh, fine! You win this round. My eyes are starting to hurt from all this goddamn crying. Do people actually cry this much when you arrest them?”

Spencer leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms to clearly convey just how unamused he was with the girl’s antics. She watched him intently, picking apart every move down to the muscle trying to search for any indicators that her little performance worked even a fraction of what she was hoping for.

And she got her wish in the form of the agent’s fingers tapping lightly at his sides under perfectly muscular, if she may add, arms, because any other movement would have been too obvious.

Spencer Reid was getting nervous, because the second her facade faded, he lost the upper hand. She just had to get him trapped in here.

“Oh come on. Not even a ‘good job’? I wasn’t expecting full blown applause, but some appreciation for that show would be nice.” Still, Spencer gave her nothing. He needed her to keep talking, and filling silence was a sure way to make certain she did just that.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first you have to admit that I had you fooled for a second there.”

Lies:

“No.” Unexpectedly, instead of getting frustrated with Spencer’s refusal to play along, she just smiled brighter. This was exciting to her, and it was getting on his nerves.

“What gave it away? Did I look to the left before I spoke or something?” Spencer kept his mouth shut. “Come on, what’s my tell? Enlighten me.”

She copied his movements as Spencer leaned over the cool, metal table slightly, eyes racking over her face, lingering on certain parts for longer than others.

“No.” At this, she huffed back in her seat, leaving the close proximity that would later be used as a secret tool against the doctor before he had the chance to catch on. 

“If you’re just going to shut down every single one of my proposals, then why am I here?”

“You’re here because you’re a suspect in a series of 7 murders in the past 5 weeks.” She perked up at his words, amusement dripping from her features.

“Finally, Doc has something more to say than just ‘no.’ Tell me, was that so hard?”

“No.”

“Ugh!” Rolling her eyes would be giving ammo to the enemy, but the urge to do so was quite strong. In fact, she almost did until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the one way mirror.

“I’m serious when I say this,” she said, looking directly into Spencer’s eyes so he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “If you take the cuffs off, I’ll answer everything.”

“No.”

“Please! They’re seriously starting to hurt. I put 100% into that performance, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the-”

“Fine!” Spencer stood up carefully, not walking around the table until he was certain the girl wasn’t a flight risk, or worse. When he did finally make his way over, she sat completely still, not taking her eyes off where his fingers grazed hers as the handcuffs unlocked.

A breath of relief escaped her as she rubbed her wrists with the opposite hands, eventually feeling the blood fully return to all 10 fingers.

“Thank you.” It was so vulnerable and raw that it knocked Spencer back for a second. They locked eyes, and something deeper than he was ready for passed between them.

He didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he hated it so much that he tore his eyes away immediately to return back to his original spot seated across from her.

“Answer me this-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Neither of them spoke for far too much time, and Spencer was growing more annoyed by the second.

“What?” It came out harsh, and mean, and downright cruel, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh nothing, I just wasn’t going to answer anything. I really just wanted to fix my hair.” And, in being true to her words this time, she secured her hair into a messy bun using the elastic Spencer didn’t even realize was missing from his wrist.

“I’m putting the cuffs back on.”

“No wait,” she pleaded, halting Spencer’s move to get up. “They really did hurt, I wasn’t lying about that.”

“I don’t care.” He made his way over, forcefully grabbing both of her wrists before securing the handcuffs back on. Spencer only regretted his actions slightly when she winced at the metal now back to pressing into her skin.

“Yes you do. It’s your biggest flaw.” Instead of answering, Spencer just returned to his seat, leaning back with crossed arms. He didn’t need to listen to a psychopath tell him his flaws.

“You care too much,” she continued, not minding if he was listening or not. “It gets you hurt, other people hurt. I wish that wasn’t the case. You deserve better, Doc.”

Spencer didn’t engage, opting to gawk tiredly at the suspect, and watch the way her eyes flicker across his features, gauging for a reaction. She wasn’t done.

“Hey, okay, fine. I’m just messing with you,” she laughed, finally breaking her serious facade. “What? A girl can’t joke around while she’s being accused of murder?”

“Accused? Or caught?”

“Accused.” It was final, her tone immediately dropping to a fiery rage. Her defenses were up, and Spencer was never really good at playing on the offensive team.

This time, it was Spencer’s turn to analyze, watching the way the blood rushed to her cheeks with her rising anger level. How all of a sudden her eyes lost their playful glint, giving him the chance to fully see the soul buried deep in them. For a split second, she was completely unveiled right before his eyes.

Spencer, clearly not anticipating just how long the girl in front of him could hold her own, used his last bullet.

He placed the crime scene photos in front of her.

“You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, he saw it in her eyes. Spencer watched the way they remained stoic even after looking at the bloody walls, and vacant eyes of the deceased.

“No.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Who are you protecting?” Her head shot up at his question, eyes flashing red before she blinked it away again. Subconsciously, she started to pick at her fingernails.

“No one.” It was a lie if he’s ever heard one. 

Fear:

“You’re lying. Who is it?” 

“I’m not lying.” She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. Instead, she gave her undivided attention to her shaky hands confined to the table.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Enough! Who are you protecting?!” At this, Spencer stood up and slammed his hands against the table with a strong amount of force that she flinched hard enough to further irritate her wrists.

He felt awful, the bouncing back and forth between them should have given him enough indicators that she wasn’t lying out of spite. But he couldn’t back down, he had her cornered and her only way out was to tell the truth.

“No one.” She wouldn’t look at him, even as she whispered. “Please stop.”

Spencer truly believed that he had her in a bind, an inescapable one at that, but it wasn’t the truth. Oh no, what the profiler failed to realize was she had him where she needed him.

“I have no information to give you,” she whispered before tagging along. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time she apologized for something Spencer could have seen as an inconvenience.

He believed her, too.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” That was his form of an apology. Spencer wasn’t going to go any further with it, even if she was coerced into lying by whoever the true unsub is, she was still getting on his nerves.

Her hands were still shaking at this point, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Spencer just slumped back into his seat, settling into the silence between them until ultimately he was either called out of the room, or she gave him another indication that her game hasn’t ended.

A loud sigh bounced off the walls. “I don’t care that you yelled in my face. You think it’s the first time a man’s done that? You’re not special, Doctor.”

“I never said I was.” So the game carries on, but this time, she didn’t smile at his sarcastic response. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed a breath before continuing.

“You really want to be though, don't you?”

Lust:

She was pushing his buttons, trying so hard to dig under his skin till she was unremovable. She wanted Spencer to leave this room with her on his mind for the rest of his days.

She was close too.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer deadpanned, trying to keep a cool tone. If he continued to hand her the ammunition she needed, he would be left defenseless.

“Oh come on, loosen up. I was just joking.”  A smirk grew across her features, a thought crossing her eyes. One Spencer knew would not be in favor of his win tonight. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He did. Spencer wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that the woman sitting across the table wasn’t extremely attractive; she was. He just would never admit it aloud.

“I have a feeling you like to get rough, don’t you, Doctor?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs. The stare shared between the two of them was a mix between passion and anger, meeting in the middle to create a new kind of emotion.

“Is this fun for you?” She left out bait, and Spencer was stupid enough to fall for it. Emily once said that a pretty face slashed his IQ in half.

He couldn’t help but agree.

“Undo these cuffs, and I’ll show you what fun is.” She was toying with him now, and they weren’t going to get anywhere, but Spencer couldn’t find it within himself to get up and leave. She had him by the...

“I’m going to get that confession.” It was like he was five years old again, arguing on the playground with the older kids about how their insults didn’t make sense.

“What’re you going to do, punish me?” She asked, the last words in a hushed whisper. When Spencer’s cheeks grew hotter, and his eyes darker, she knew she had him.

“You do like to get rough! My, my, Doctor, you're keeping me at the edge of my seat here.” She let out a boisterous laugh before really digging the knife deeper. “Is that why you kept the cuffs on?”

Before he could snap back, the door flew open and Emily stood there with a tablet in her hand. “You need to see this.”

Spencer got up to leave, thankful for the reprieve even if he did have to return to the interrogation after speaking with Emily. He almost made it to the door before a voice called out behind him.

“Wait!” She called after him, the cuffs rattled when she instinctively went to reach for Spencer. “Aren’t you going to answer my question, Doctor.”

Playing chess his whole life, Spencer had never once played a game where Checkmate presented itself unexpectedly. He was always at least three moves ahead in his mind, seeing the inevitable end before he even began his gameplay. There was a first for everything, because his last move suddenly arose.

“No.”

_____

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[the-sprog]

So since I'm very bad at remembering my ideas, I'm gonna throw this out there and hope one day I'm like "WAIT didn't I have an idea for a fic??? What was it???" And I will find it on my tumblr.

It's about Danny Phantom, obviously.

There are actually two of them in here so:

The easiest one: Jack and Maddie are not stupid. I mean they're scientists, the use the scientific method. One of the things about the scientific method is that if you do a bunch of tests, based on an hypothesis and only one of them comes out disproving it, then your hypothesis is incorrect.

Phantom has disproved basically all of their hypothesis.

So, next thing to do? Create a new one. Do new tests. They take Jazz's suggestion and try and see if the ghosts of Amity are actually conscious. Because obviously they're sentient, but are they like animals? Or are they like robots with artificial intelligence?

Or even better yet, are they like humans?

They grab Phantom's attention and ask him if he would cooperate for this test. A simple Turing test. Obviously they're still wary because of everything that happened with him, and do the test with witnesses to keep both Phantom's and their minds at ease.

He passed the test. With flying colors.

They're shocked and ask him if he knew peaceful ghosts that would be willing to take the test (because, y'know. Scientific method. Need to try over and over again). Phantom would have to explain that not all ghosts are as human-like as him (as, first of all, he's a halfa, but he doesn't say that. And second, lots of them are blobs or animal-like ghosts), but cue his parents meeting Jhonny and Kitty (cause I like the idea that they have a truce with Phantom and that going out of the zone helps them with their couple problems), as well as Shadow (example of a less human-like ghost). Then Sidney, Dora, the Fright Knight (cause king ghost Danny ftw) and Frostbite.

They all pass, more or less. Some, like Dora, the light and Sidney, where given away by their choice of word, but other than that all of them passed the test.

OK SO MORE COMPLEX ONE:

I love crossovers. I love finding ways of putting the two universes together, of making them work with each other, adapting the rules so that they apply to both. (With Danny Phantom it's also really cool to just... Make him travel the multiverse. He doesn't adhere to the rules of where he goes to, so it's always hilarious. But we're not here for that now).

One of the best ones to do this with is My Hero Academia. Whenever a show has someone with powers I end up asking myself "how should that work in the world of my hero?" And start trying to incorporate it in the lore.

So, first thing first, we're getting rid of the canon story of my hero. Completely unrelated to the show. This takes place decades in the past, when the first people where developing quirks (so if I wanted to write something with this and actually use my hero characters, I'd make it so that they where hit with a time traveling quirk or that Clockwork was somehow involved).

The Fenton's hatred for ghosts? Make it discrimination against the people who have quirks.

Danny being half-ghost? His quirk's fault. He calls it Ghost, for simplicity, it allows him to come back as a sort of ghost-like creature after he dies. Somehow, one day, he doesn't die completely so his body fixes it the only way it know how. Making him partially ghost.

Obviously that would mean that all the ghosts he fights aren't ghosts anymore. They're villains with quirks, and their powers would be based on what they can do on the show, minus the basic intangibility, invisibility and flight.

Obviously only Sam and Tucker would know he was Phantom and he had a quirk, he's also kinda the only one in town with one. People would be a little racist against quirk havers, but the kids, like in the show, come around to it. And actually start loving Phantom and thinking of him as a hero.

How do I fit Vlad in all of this? Ehm ahhhh this is the one thing I didn't think about. Very basic, but could give him a power similar to Danny, were instead of a ghost, he becomes a vampire. But his quirk is caused by an accident in college, so it's artificial.

Why does Skulker (who doesn't have a quirk. He's just a guy in a suit) hunt Danny? He has a very unique quirk.

Does Dani exist? I mean. Yeah. Cloning is not so farfetched, especially with the existence of quirks.

Clockwork can control time, he involuntary does that being a child, then an adult then an old man thing. The Observants are people without quirks that keep him in check, an organization that made a pact with him to stay young forever or something in change of idk what. No idea what Clockwork would get out of it I won't lie. Money maybe? Or somehow they found a way of keeping him there against his will?

Walker (and I'll make a seperate post about this) is an ex guy in white. Yes they still exist, but they hunt quirk havers instead of paranormal stuff. Walker was kicked out because he actually has a quirk but lied about it. He's after his own kind in the show as well. I mean, he's a stickler to the rules, but he only ever seems to care when it's ghosts that brake them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but never has he punished a human. His quirk is making semi-sentient minions. They're not copies of himself. They're like clay humans with basic forms. They all look alike and have no special characteristics.

Frostbite is just... A yeti. With cryokenisis. It's a mutation type quirk.

Same goes for Wulf, he's just a humanoid wolf that can create teleportation portals. I can't think of a reason why he would only speak Esperanto though. It could be something similar to Five from umbrella academy. He accidentally got stuck in the 1600 as a kid and managed to come back only relatively recently.

I feel like all the other ghosts have obvious powers.

Cujo can become ginormous,

Technus can control technology,

Dora and Aragon can become dragons,

Jhonny gives people bad luck and can control his shadow,

Kitty can make man disappear,

Ember can mind control using music,

Spectra can use people's negative emotions to stay young,

Bernard has shapeshifting,

Youngblood can't be seen by adults (side effect: can't grow old) and his sideckick has a variant of shapeshifting where he can only transform in animals. A definitive father figure),

Box ghost can control boxes,

Pandora can control the plagues of the world,

Desiré can make people's wishes come true,

Sidney can swap bodies with people,

Undergrowth can control plants,

Pariah Dark- I... Actually don't know...

Lunch Lady can control food,

Aaaanndddd no more come to mind.

I want to do something with this AU but I can't really think of an interesting story, other than "kids from 1A get misplaced in time and Danny has to help, discovering the existence of Clockwork and the Observants, whom he hates. So he tries to get Clockwork out of there with the other kid's help" but that's it, really.

I actually have a 3rd idea, but it basically works the same as the MHA one. Crossover with the X-Men.

Substitute quirk havers with mutants and quirks with mutations and you get the idea.

The plot would be more of a "Danny gets recruited by Xavier after the trauma of almost dying activated his mutation and goes to live at the mansion. This happens after the events of season 3, alla salted to make sense in the world of Marvel, but without Phantom planet. He makes friends there, since Sam and Tucker aren't with him and everything is fine and dandy and happy. Until it comes out that the Fentons actually contribute to the creation of the Sentinels, because they hate Phantom that much.

So Danny has to infiltrate his own family to get info on how the Sentinels work so they can destroy them, since his parents are still oblivious and they made it so that the Sentinels wouldn't attack Danny thinking that his accident just somehow make him register as a mutant on machinery" and that's it.

[clonecaptains]

Don’t Make Me Smile

a Captain Howzer x medic!reader fic 

fluff, some angst/mention of war injuries 

1k

this is for the lovely @howie-ner-cyare !! 

You’d think it’d be easier. You’re a medic. You’ve been stationed on Ryloth to help with the war efforts. You’ve seen your fair share of injuries and lives lost. Seen so much pain. But you’ve seen life too, nursed clone troopers back to health. Yet, after all you’ve seen and done, you still can’t control your emotions when Captain Howzer comes in the medical tent.

He comes in once a day. At first, it’s to check on his men. He’s dedicated to them. And you notice his visits always boost morale, keeps their spirits up. He knows them all by name. His brothers.

But then, his visits are for you. You denied it for a long time, but then it became more obvious as he often lingered in your station to speak with you. The longer he stays, the harder it is to control your heartbeat thudding in your chest. You feel your body warm when he speaks.

He always removes his helmet to speak to you, and you’re greeted with his kind face. His gentle eyes. The sharp lines of his face. His heavy brow. You can see the worry in the lines of his face, but he relaxes for a brief moment with you.

You become friends, and for now you’ll take it. You want more, but you don’t know how. You worry it’s unprofessional. But then, this is war. Happiness and love should be celebrated.

And it’s always when you get up the courage to say something that he has to leave, or something else needs your attention.

Maybe next time.

You remember once when he came in with a big smile on his face. Young Hera was dangling from Howzer’s shoulders. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice when he asked you if you’d seen Hera.

Hera giggled behind him, and Howzer only frowned, “I thought I heard her!”

“I don’t see her here,” you played along only for the girl to giggle louder. She dropped from his tall form and made herself known with a loud laugh. She made herself busy looking around at everything and speaking so some of the Twi’leks and troopers in the beds.

Once she was out of earshot, you asked Howzer, “Is she alright?”

He nodded. He admitted he needed some air, and she always brightens his day, “And so do you,” he ducked his head. A small smile growing.

“Are you alright?” you ask, despite the tremble in your voice. You touch his arm, the cool of his armor under your fingertips makes you ache for the warmth of him instead.

It was a fond memory, and one you should have acted on. Told him that he made your days better. That you longed for when he would come in.

He hasn’t yet today, and you can’t help but wonder where he is. You know he has obligations, but you can’t help but think about him. Want to see him. Hear his pleasant voice. See those big golden eyes.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear shouting outside the medic tent. A few troopers burst in the doorway with Howzer between them. You gasp loudly and tell them to put him on a table.

Your hand flies to your face when you see him. His helmet is shattered in two places on his cheek and on his chin. The wounds underneath are angry and bleeding. You’re quick to remove the helmet, but careful not to aggravate the cuts.

He’s in and out of consciousness and he moans softly when you take off the helmet. You do your best to clean and bandage the wounds, but you know they’ll scar. He’s lucky. Other than a few scrapes and bruises and the obvious injury on his face, he’s fine. But looking down at him on your table fills you with an uneasy feeling. A tear falls down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away.

Your shift ends before you see Howzer wake. You wanted to stay with him, but your supervisor wanted you to take a break.

The obvious battle that had been fought today had been won, and the Twi’leks and troopers were celebrating with a little partying. You couldn’t quite enjoy the festivities like you wanted, not knowing what you’d seen. But you wanted to get a drink or two anyway to clear your head a bit.

One or two turned to three or four. And you were feeling a slight buzz. Or maybe that was because Howzer had come walking towards you. He stopped and talked to a few troopers and Twi’leks and you felt yourself become insecure. The Twi’leks are a beautiful people, how were you supposed to compare to them? They’re known across the galaxy for their beauty. Maybe you should just stay in the medic tent.

But then you hear your name called. And you look to see Howzer smiling at you. His handsome face has bandages on his cheek and chin still, and you hurt for him.

“Hi,” you smile when he comes to sit at your table. He reaches across and grabs the drink in front of you and downs it in one go.

“Hey,” he grins, but then winces when his smile burns his cheek. “Don’t make me smile,” he whispers quietly. His golden eyes search your face, and you can’t deny him anymore.

“Listen, about today-“

“I know. I saw you.”

“You saw me?”

“I was awake, when I saw you cry,” he lifts his gloved hand to touch your cheek. It’s long since dry now but he mimics wiping the tear away. “I don’t want you to cry for me. I’m alright. Just got some battle scars now.”

“I cried because I-“

His brows lift in question, his expression soft.

“I know, me too.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you laugh and shove his shoulder playfully.

“You were going to tell me that you love me. Weren’t you?” He rests his elbow on the table and scoots closer to you. Boldly, you reach up to touch his uninjured cheek and he leans into your touch. You keep him still while you lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He pulls back with a whisper again, smiling through the pain, “I told you not to make me smile,” he says leaning forward and cupping the back of your head to kiss you again.

 tagging: @clonecaptainrex​, @pascal-isaac​, @velvetmel0n​, @samrubio​ 

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared  to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

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

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”