#house of creed event

[enhypendata]

© 4𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓. do not edit/crop logo

[booksandmemes]

Really cool stuff I found at the Sharjah Book Fair (I have not read most of these but I really want to.)

[bumpkinspice0]

Apex Predator

Sabertooth/ Victor Creed x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4k (like how? How did that happen?)

Summary: You hear two animals fighting in the woods one night. You find one of them the next day and bring him into your home. The red flags stack up, yet you can't help but find yourself drawn to him. A/N: don't ask me what possessed me to write a Victor fic I dont know I don’t know and I'm not gonna think about it too hard. Just enjoy. Liev Schreiber is fine as hell with a voice that should be studied Warnings: Injury and wound descriptions, blood, S M U T, Porn with Plot, hurt/ comfort, feral/ animalistic behavior (duh), rough sex, oral sex, cum eating (out of pussy... hell yeah), biting, licking, I wrote the word tongue too many times, why have none of you put me down yet?

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

There are monsters in the woods tonight. 

You hear them roaring just past the tree line— massive animals battling for dominance. Not a completely uncommon thing in your part of the world, but definitely an unwelcome one. You grip the shotgun tighter as you dare to step out onto the front porch of your modest cabin. The late fall air would send a chill up your spine if the fear hadn’t done that already. You see nothing. You turn the yard light on, thinking it might scare whatever is out there away, but the blind roaring doesn’t stop. 

Whatever was out there, it wasn’t afraid of man.

You’d lived out here long enough to identify almost any critter by sound. But this wasn’t like any animals you’d ever heard before. Grunting and snarling accompanied by snapping branches, sometimes almost sounding borderline human. You lived too far out for the police to be any help and the only self-defence you had was already in your hands. You immediately retreat back into the house, lock the doors, and turn out all the lights. If whatever was out there couldn’t be scared away, then you’d have to do your best to hide and stay safe. 

You turn your armchair to face the door, shotgun resting at the ready on your lap. A sleepless night was nothing if it meant your life. You’d only done this once before. A mother grizzly bear had stalked your cabin for 2 days. She almost broke down the door on the last night. Somehow… This seemed worse. 

The turbulent unforeseen violence outside continued as the night crawled on, but it never came close to your door. Regardless, you sat at the ready as the clock ticked on and you forced your eyes to stay open.

Eventually, the roaring faded. When the woods were tranquil again, you were already asleep.

______________

You wake up to the blinding morning light. The shotgun was still resting on your lap, and you silently scolded yourself for falling asleep with it still on your person before setting it to the side. You recline the chair, stretching out as the evening events come flooding back to you in an instant. 

Something horrible happened last night just outside your door. If you were younger you’d be absolutely petrified right now, and maybe a small part of you was. You can never fully train fear out of you. But you’d been out here a while. You’re part of the ecosystem like anything else. This was your territory. That was challenged last night. You needed to establish you’re not afraid. 

With heavy feet, you walk to the front door. You step onto the porch, shotgun still in hand. Your first steps onto the ground are cautious. The woods are quiet this morning, creatures hidden away in fear of whatever they witnessed last night. It makes your hair stand on end, but still, you press on. 

The only sound that can be heard is the crunch of leaves under your feet as you stalk towards the edge of your property line— closer to where the sounds came from last night. You stop when the treeline gets denser and the ground gets steep. The sound of the river just down the hill is comforting. 

Panic grips you when you spot it. 

A man— beaten and blooded, half submerged on the shore. 

You scramble down the hill without thinking. It wasn’t a fight between two predators. It was a fight between an animal and a man. He was fighting for his life and you just sat there all night.

He’s worse when you get up close. There are gashes on nearly every part of his body— claw marks in sets of three. There’s a massive one across his entire face. He’d likely lost his right eye. 

You crouch down beside him, getting a better look at his features beneath the gore. His hair was short and dark. You can make out some thick stubble caked with blood. You cautiously hover your hand over his mouth. It was faint but it was there— breath. God, he’d been bleeding out all night, how is he still alive?

There’s no time to think about it now, you have to help him. You had to try at least. 

You drop your gun, hook your arms under his shoulders and heave. He’s heavy as hell but you still manage to walk, one step after the other. You’re amazed you managed to get back up the hill to the cabin. Adrenalin is a hell of a thing. 

You put him on the couch in the living room. His skin was ice cold, so your first priority is to light a fire before you do anything else. Dressing his wounds wouldn’t mean anything if hypothermia set in. 

You had a modest stockpile of medical supplies, it was a necessity when someone lived the way you did. The nearest hospital was over 50 miles away and the only road to town had been washed over by a mudslide last week. His only hope was you— and your modest medical knowledge.

You pile up a few rolls of gauze and bowls of clean water next to him on the coffee table. All you had to do was clean and cover the wounds— maybe stitch a few. You take a deep breath and get to work.

__________

Hours. It took hours but you did it. He more resembled a mummy than a man by the time you were done. The cabin was finally warm and his skin was slowly heating up… well, what little of it you could see under the bandages. 

You’d tossed his shirt immediately, it was practically scraps anyway. You let him keep his pants, only with a few holes in the knees and a stray tear or two. He didn’t have shoes, which, now that you’re thinking about it, was a little odd. How do you manage to lose your shoes in a fight for your life? You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

You sit across from him in your armchair, just looking. Though he was asleep he seemed… rough. Mean almost. His haircut made you think he’s a military man but the rest of him said otherwise. Massive sideburns and spotty stubble. Long unkempt nails. You’d never seen hands like his before. They looked… unnatural. This man survived an hours-long fight with some kind of predator, everything about him was unnatural. There’s a name for people like that— you try not to think about it. 

It’s hours later before anything happens. 

You’re in the kitchen when you hear a gasping breath. You immediately run over. 

He’s awake, grasping at the bandages on his chest. He’s breathing rapidly.

“Where am I?!” he croaks out. 

“Don’t do that,” You grab at his hands to stop him from pulling the gauze off, “You’ll open your—”

“Get the hell away from me!” he shoves you down in a flurry of movement. He attempts to get off the couch, collapsing under his own weight instantly. He barks out a pained grunt, grasping at his leg. You’re sure there was at least a severed tendon or two.

“You’re safe!” you assure him as you scramble to his side, keeping a safe distance this time, “You’re in my home. I found you by the river and—”

“Where is he?” the stranger growls through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” You dare to touch him again, urging him back to the couch. To your surprise, he doesn’t flinch away, “Please, get back in bed.”

He finally looks at you now, and the rage in his eyes— well, eye–- sends a shiver down your spine. Your first assumptions were right, this man was angry. Maybe it was a mistake to bring him back here. You brought a stranger into your home— an angry stranger.

You notice his nose twitch. Is he… smelling you?

“You scared?” he asks bluntly.

He doesn’t take his eye off of you. You’re not sure how to navigate this situation. He was clearly dangerous, but he also couldn’t walk at the moment. Was he really a threat or just panicked? He did just wake up in a stranger's home after probably the worst night of his life after all. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” you ask. 

He scoffs, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“No, I don’t think so, frail,” he rolls on his back with a pained groan. He looks at the bandages snaking up his arms. He brings his grizzled hand down to touch the patch over his eye, “Christ, you went through a lot of trouble for nothin’.”

“Should I have left you there to die?” you ask cautiously, reestablishing some distance between the two of you.

“Probably would have been best,” he mumbles, hand still over where his right eye should have been, “Never had it this bad before.”

“Before?” you scoff, “You go wrestling bears in the woods often, stranger?”

“Didn’t fight a damn bear,” he grunts, sitting up and inching his way back to the couch. 

“Oh yeah?” You loop your arm through his and help him the rest of the way onto the couch. “What did you fight?”

He lays back with a heavy sigh. He lets out another small chuckle and you see a flash of pearly white pointed teeth.

“A wolverine.”

_________

You hide away in the other parts of the house until evening. You tried to talk to him a little more after he initially woke up, but he didn’t reciprocate much and honestly, you can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be berated with 20 questions after you survived a wolverine attack either. Still, you got a little out of him. 

Victor. He said his name was Victor. 

As the hours rolled on your anxieties stewed more and more about the situation you’d put yourself in. He’s already sitting up and talking. He was conscious less than a day after heavy trauma. He surely had to be in excruciating pain but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even touch the painkillers you set on the table for him. He just sat there, waiting almost. He said he wouldn’t hurt you but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.

He has clawed hands and pointed teeth… and he’s just sitting in your living room. You don’t want to dwell on it. You don’t want to judge. You keep your shotgun within reach just in case. 

You’re in the laundry room when you hear booming footsteps down the hall. 

You rush out to the kitchen and there he is, standing tall and straight.

“What are you— You’re—”

“I was thirsty,” he grits through your stammering, reaching into the cupboard to pull out a glass. 

“You’re walking.” 

He makes a small show of looking down and wiggling his toes, then looking back at you with faux shock on his face. 

“Well, would ya look at that,” he drawls, “It’s a goddamn miracle.” 

He brushes you off and fills his glass in the sink, downing the entire thing in one gulp before immediately filling it up again. 

“You’re still scared.” he gruffs without even looking at you. 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” you stand your ground, glancing to the hallway where your gun was mounted. 

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he reiterates in an almost annoyed tone. He turns to face you now, leaning back against the counter with a new glass of water. 

“How do I know I can trust you?”

He raises his hand and you can’t help but notice his long nails peeking out from behind his fingers. “Scouts honor.”

“I need more than that.” you take a step closer, quelling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “If you’re going to stay I need more.”

“More?” He scoffs before taking a swig of his water. “What could you possibly—”

You don’t let him finish, slapping the glass out of his hand. It clamors to the floor without breaking, water splashing at your feet. He seemed like the type of man that would only respond to aggression. He was a guest in this house. This was your territory and you couldn’t let him think he was in charge. He couldn’t walk all over you. Sometimes showing dominance is the best way to stay safe. Show no fear.

You were going to get answers one way or another. 

“I want honesty,” You stand directly in front of him. You see the seething rage in his almost gleaming eye and match it, “I find you mauled half to death and drag you in here. You wake up without so much as a thank you. You couldn’t even walk a few hours ago and now here you are standing in my kitchen thinking you own the place. You give me a little honesty, and I’ll give you a little trust.”

You stand there in bloated silence, both of you refusing to back down. Christ, he’s big. He looks down at you with contempt almost, until his expression melts back into something more neutral. You flinch when he reaches up, but he doesn’t lay his hand on you. His clawed fingers grip the bandages around his chest and rip them off in one fluid motion. 

You almost scream at him to stop before you notice it. The deep gashes that were so prominent on his skin just a few hours ago… were almost completely gone. Only small cuts on fresh pink skin littered his chest. Christ, even the hair was growing back. 

“You— what does… how is this possible?” you ask, almost dumbfounded. But you knew. Deep down you knew. 

“Aw, and here I thought you might be smart,” he tuts, turning to retrieve another glass. 

“You’re a mutant.” You finally say it out loud. There was no denying it now. 

“Told ya you went through a lot of trouble for nothing,” he grunts almost dismissively. He turns to face you again and his expression is almost… soft. He’s relaxed. He’s trying to make you comfortable. That or he was finally relieved everything was out in the open now. Either way, the air was lighter.

“You still scared?” He asks. 

Are you? You’re not sure. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. And, he gave you what you asked for. He gave you honestly. Now you have to keep up your end of the bargain. 

Unsure of how to continue, you simply reach out your hand. It hovers there in front of him for a moment. He stares at it almost dumbfounded, before he takes it. Your hand feels so small in his. 

“Welcome to my home, Victor,” you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’ll behave or you’ll have led in your ass to worry about next."

His sharp smile could almost be considered kind, “Thanks a million, kitten.”

__________________

By the next morning he’s taken off almost all of the bandages, say for the one over his eye. He said it would take longer for his eye since it was fully regrowing something instead of mending skin. You’re still in awe of it all. You never knew much about mutants, but you're sure he had to be something special. He’d practically come back from the dead. 

You worked up the courage to ask him about the claws last night.

Don’t you know an animal when you see one? Was his only answer. You could make your own assumptions off of that.

He stands just outside of the cabin right now. You’d found an old grey henley shirt for him to wear. He didn’t seem to mind having no shoes. You assume it’s all part of the whole ‘beast’ thing he has going on.

He said he wanted to exercise before he left the house, mumbling about still being sore. His walk has the slightest limp in it you think he’s trying to hide. He stretches his arms over his head and cracks his neck a few times before bounding off into the woods with the agility of a tiger. He really did move like an animal. 

You’re still not sure what to make of him. You didn’t care that he was a mutant, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s someone dangerous. You could just see it in him. A quiet rage about everything. A cocky smirk that sets you on edge in a way you can’t quite place. And in its own way… a carefully curated image.

On top of all of his red flags, something about him was just so… alluring. You just can’t seem to stop your thoughts from drifting to the more lustful side when you think about him. 

He comes back an hour later. You’re standing at the kitchen window when you see him bound down from the trees. He has two dead pheasants in hand. He takes a seat on the porch and begins plucking them, his back still facing you. You watch his shoulders rise and drop with his ragged breaths, his wide back almost mesmerizing. He was strong, you knew that from the moment you saw him. Vicious too. 

 An animal. He called himself an animal. You wonder just exactly what that meant.

You feel the arousal stir in your belly, a wet ache growing between your legs. You notice his demeanor shift outside, and his head turns slightly. You jump out of view of the window, ashamed to have been spying on his personal time. You’re not sure, but you think you hear a small chuckle outside. 

He comes back in about ten minutes later, with two freshly plucked and gutted birds to offer. Birds he hunted down with his bare hands. 

“Brought dinner,” he announces, placing them in the sink. “Noticed you were almost out of meat.”

You stand on the opposite side of the kitchen, back towards him. You're not sure why, but you're embarrassed. 

“Thank you,” you say, fiddling with whatever books were on the table.

You feel him come up behind you, standing just inches away.  

“Sure thing, kitten,” his lips faintly brush your ear before pulling away. “Gonna shower.”

_______

He was going to track down Logan and finish what he started. He wasn’t going to come back to this fucking place. No reason to. He barely made it 3 miles before the exhaustion started overtaking him, his still cracked ribs and torn tendons aching in protest. It was taking too damn long this time. The runt had done a number on him. He hoped he’d at least returned the favor in equal measure. 

It didn’t matter anymore. He lost Logan’s scent in the river, the water erasing whatever trail that was left. He’d find him eventually and they’d do it all over again. Same old song and dance forever. 

So he scurries back to this shithole cabin to lick his wounds.

He hates it. He hates it here. He hates that he’s apparently so goddamn weak he needed help from a human. He hates the way this fucking cabin smells. He hates you. 

His cock’s painfully hard in his hands. Victor stands hunched over himself in the shower, hoping the rushing water is loud enough to drown out any lewd sounds you might hear. He honestly didn’t know how good human hearing was anymore. 

Truth be told this was probably his favorite way to relieve some stress after getting his ass handed to him— though he’d rather be cumming in someone pretty. You would do nicely, but for some reason, he held back. You wanted him, he could smell it, and Victor Creed held back. Instead giving himself a sad quick jerk in the shower. 

He chalks it up to having some kind of respect for you, whatever little he’s capable of. You dragged his ass up here, kept him in your home, did your best to put him in his place. Usually, he’d call all that stupidity, but being on the receiving end of your kindness was…nice.

 No one was nice to Victor. No one gave a shit, and he was fine with that. You didn’t seem to care he was what he was. Seemed like you just wanted him to be nice. Fine, he can be nice. The Victor Creed version of nice at least. 

Christ, you wanted him— and he smelled it. 

He cums with a groan hissed through clenched teeth. It was empty. Not the release he wanted and it just serves to piss him off more. He wouldn’t stick around here much longer. Wait for his eye to be back in its socket again and bones to snap back into place— then he’d go and do what he’d always done. He’d forget about all of this. 

He already smells the pheasants roasting in the oven. You came with perks, he won’t deny that. 

He doesn’t bother putting a shirt on once his pants are buttoned, walking out of the bathroom dragging a towel across his damp hair. It smelled even better out here. He sits by the kitchen where you scurry around doing god knows what. 

“When’s the bird ready?” he asks. 

“A few hours. We should—” You finally turn to face him, pausing as soon as your eyes land on his face, “You… showered with your bandages on.”

“So?”

“So, you’re gonna get an infection,” you sigh, reaching into a cupboard next to the sink and pulling what he’s pretty sure is your last roll of gauze.

“I don’t get infections,” His words do nothing to stop you as you somehow just materialize in front of him. “You don’t need to—”

“Hush, these things are filthy anyway,” you touch him without hesitation, unwrapping the damp bandages around his head, “Don’t want your eyeball to grow back wrong, do we.”

“You’re unbearable, woman.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” You brush his words off with a faint smile. When you take the final patch off his eye, he can’t resist.

“Boo!” he snarls, popping his claws up for dramatic effect. You jump, fear only taking your senses for a brief moment before you smile and smack him playfully on the chest. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, taking his face in her hands. He can’t help but chuckle… just a little. your expression drops while you observe the surely hideous gash on his face. Something is growing in his eye socket, he can feel it. It’s almost fully there, but if it’s functional yet is a totally different story. He can barely open it, faint blurry images throwing off his vision and making him dizzy. Maybe it was best to keep the damn thing covered after all.

“How bad is it, doc?” He breaks the silence. 

“Well,” you run a thumb across his cheekbone. He pushes down whatever foreign feeling it stirs in his stomach. “It’s better than it was.”

You grab the gauze. 

“Just a patch this time. Don’t need ta wrap half my head.” He insists.

“Fine, fine,” you absent-mindedly agree while cutting off a few strips of tape. He feels his muscles tense when you touch him again. “It’s amazing your body can do this, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll count my blessings,” He huffs, almost annoyed. You don't know a goddamn thing. 

“You think your eye will come back a different color?” you continue on absentmindedly, taking your sweet time to position the patch just right.

“What?” he scoffs in amusement. 

“Like you’ll get a blue or purple eye instead. Does that happen?”

“No. No, that doesn’t happen.” He can’t tell if you’re just being naive or trying to make small talk. You don't smell afraid anymore. You smell… relaxed. He liked it. The smell was almost…inviting.

“Mm, probably for the best. You’ve got nice eyes— well, eye.” You honest to god laugh at yourself.

“Oh, do I?” He’d bounce his eyebrows sarcastically if you weren’t finally putting the tape on. 

“Yeah, you do.” you smooth out the final strip of tape across his forehead. “They almost glow. Like a wild cat’s.”

“Honey… you have no idea.”

Your hands still haven’t left his face. When was the last time someone touched him without the intent to hurt him? When was the last time someone paid him an honest compliment? When’s the last time he talked to a pretty girl without the express purpose of getting information out of her? A girl that wasn’t afraid of him… He can’t remember.

Victor didn’t have quite nice moments like this with people. Never let anyone get close enough to try. He wasn’t someone nice things happened to… so of course the moment was ruined almost immediately.

He hears it before he smells it, stalking footprints in the distance. A large predator coming for the cabin. He takes a deep inhale and closes in on it immediately. A cougar, one he’d met earlier today when he was out. He’d encroached on a mother's territory and she’d tracked him here. Now he’d have to defend yours. 

“What is it?” you’d noticed him go stiff, his attention darting to the open door. He grabs your arms as gently as he can and pushes you back.

“Stay inside…please,” He stalks to the door, instincts immediately overtaking his senses. Protect. Defend. Fight if you have to.

He stands on the dirt just in front of the cabin, pacing back and forth— an open challenge. The cougar does the same just beyond the treeline, staying hidden. It doesn’t matter, Victor may be down an eye but he can smell her just fine. This could go on for hours if he didn’t try something. May as well just kill the thing and get it over with. 

“Victor?” your meek voice almost pulls him from his predatory focus— almost. 

“I said stay inside,” it comes out as more of a growl than he intended, but he doesn’t particularly care at the moment, “Back up and lock the door.”

“Please… don’t kill it. Whatever it is.” You beg him for reasons he can’t fully comprehend at the moment.

“Go inside. Now.”

You said nothing and followed his command, locking the door behind you. 

His attention is back on the silent predator just beyond the treeline. This was a territorial dispute, a display of dominance— something Victor was always good at. 

He plants his feet, standing parallel to your front door. He squares his shoulders and roars. A challenge. An invitation, really. 

Just try it, it won’t go well, Victor thinks as he readies his stance, prepared to pounce. 

An eerie silence follows in his voice's echo. The type of silence when there’s about to be trouble. 

The mother reveals herself, only slightly, peeking her head through the brush. Her gaze is locked on to him and teeth bared with quivering cheeks. He should pounce now, take her out in one strike. It would be so easy. Killing was always so easy… but you’d asked him not to. And for some reason, that was harder. Restraint wasn’t something Victor ever practiced, so why now?

Because you asked him to. 

The two predators both remain unmoving. Both pushed to the edge. Victor pushed her to the edge. She didn’t want to fight, she was just protecting what was hers. So was he… in a way. So Victor does something he’s never done before.

He takes a step back. 

He stands at the bottom step of the porch, crouching even lower. He bares the full length of his claws before he roars again— the primal message clear to his fellow predator. 

This is mine. Stay away. 

There’s a beat of heavy silence between the two, a bit longer than he’d like, before he sees the mother’s posture relax. She steps out of the brush, head hung low— a sign of respect. A promise not to come back. They share one final look before she bounds away into the woods once more. 

But it’s not good enough for Victor. He desperately wants to go after her. He wants assurance that you’d be safe. He wants revenge on something for having the audacity to cross him. He wants to march back into the cabin and claim what he’s now marked as his. 

Instead, he paces. He walks the perimeter of the cabin praying something else challenges him so he can kill it. 

__________

He stayed outside until nightfall that day, just walking around the tree line. You didn’t dare stop him. Something about the way he moved, the way he carried himself, it frightened you. And in a way you’re not ready to admit to, it excites you. This massive lumbering man ready to fight a full-grown cougar stalking around your property like an animal… it did something to you. You try not to think about it, busying yourself with whatever unimportant work you can find. 

You ate by yourself that night, leaving out a plate for him. The next morning you woke up to him asleep on the couch with a full pheasant carcass completely cleaned off on the plate next to him. You find two more plucked and gutted birds in the sink too. Well… at least he liked your cooking.

When he woke up he immediately took the bandage over his eye off. You almost slapped him for being too hasty before you saw two perfectly matching topaz eyes looking back at you, the previous gash now thinned to a faint sliver over skin around it.

He left the cabin before you could do anything else, mumbling something about testing it out.

He’s been gone for hours now while you nervously scurry about your humble home, willing your thoughts not to drift to him. It’s useless, he encompassed every thought you had. Those strong clawed hands, his deadly swift movements. His—

You almost yelp when you hear the cabin door slam. You don’t turn around to face him, but you hear his heavy steps lumber back to the living room and collapse on the couch. There’s a heavy sigh as the couch creaks in protest. He’s relaxing. And, somehow, the air is so much lighter now. 

“Dinners ready,” you dare to speak up, pulling the probably overdone pheasants out of the oven. 

“Good,” he grunts before strolling into the kitchen. He takes an entire bird for himself again, not giving the accompanied roasted vegetables a second glance. You can’t say you're surprised, but it makes you smile a little. You join him in the living room once your plate is filled, sitting kitty-corner from the couch on your armchair. 

He didn’t even bother to grab a fork, pulling apart the bird and eating it down to the bone piece by piece. He really was an animal. You chose not to comment on it, quietly eating your own meal on the side. 

“What was that?” you finally speak up after a few bites, “Out there the other day. A cougars never come close to here.”

“My fault,” he simply answers, breaking one of the striped bird bones in his hand, “Territory dispute, should be fine now.”

“Okay,” You simply answer despite all of the swirling questions in your head. How can he act so casual after stalking your property like a goddamn tiger for an entire day? Because this was normal to him. This is just part of who Victor was.  

Don’t you know an animal when you see one?

You both finish the meal in silence, choosing to stare at the dancing fire instead of each other. The air felt charged. Heavy with something you’re not ready to admit to yourself. You take your plate to the kitchen before you say something stupid.

You almost scream when you turn around to find him directly behind you at the sink, too close for comfort. Christ, you didn’t even hear him walk up. He stands there, staring down at you with those glowing predatory eyes that are so mesmerizing. He reaches out and rests his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. His massive body crowds you against the counter. You can feel your heartbeat start to quicken. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re thinking, little girl?” he all but growls out, “You think I can’t smell you? You’ve been driving me crazy.”

One of his hands comes up to your face, the backside of his claws running down your cheek. He was dangerous, a killer. You’re so close to it and it thrilled you. 

“What do you want?” his face is hovering closer to yours now.

“I—” You try desperately to hold yourself together, but you just can’t. Not with him, “I don’t know…”

He scoffs slightly, clawed hand coming down to rest on your neck. There’s no pressure in his grasp, but there’s the lingering feeling of control. You should be afraid, you should be absolutely terrified. 

“I know what you want,” his head drops to your neck, taking a deep inhale. You swear you feel the faint brush of his fangs against the delicate skin of your shoulder. “You wanna be fucked like an animal. Taken by a beast. Claimed… That what you want?”

The grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly as his body pushes into yours. You’re trembling now, but there’s no fear. 

“Yes.”

His mouth envelopes yours with a growl and you finally surrender to him, your previously stiff body melting into his. It’s not gentle. It's not sweet and loving. It’s possessive and a little terrifying— and it’s exactly what you want. 

He’s strong, you knew that the moment you saw him, but those rough hands are on you now and it gives his strength a whole new meaning. The steel grip of two clawed paws on your hips almost makes you wince in pain. His body is rigid against yours, a massive unmovable pillar. He’s in full control here. You still have almost no reason to trust him with your body like this, but for some reason you do. 

He shoves one of his massive thighs between your legs to the point of being forced to stand on your tiptoes. Admittedly, the pressure against your clothed pussy was delicious. His leg remains steady when you give an experimental roll of your hips. There’s a rumble of approval that stirs in his chest and reverberates straight down to your cunt. 

His lips break from yours with heated breath, taking a moment to pierce you with those damned glowing eyes before attacking your neck with his mouth. One of his hand's claws into your hair, pulling your head back to a near uncomfortable angle. The flat of his tongue drags slowly across your pulse before biting down. He doesn’t break skin, but that doesn’t stop you from wailing. 

At his mercy— you’re at his full mercy. 

You find a rhythm against his thigh, searching for some kind of relief from the building pressure at your core. You’re so wet already, you can feel it through your pants. The built-up desire. The almost all-consuming need for this man. You’d never felt this way for anyone, but again… there was just something about Victor that drew you in. A moth to a flame—or maybe a mouse in the mouth of a tiger.

“Filthy little thing,” He growls against you, “Jesus, you’re already so—”

All at once his intense presence leaves you, just for a moment. His knee drops and he releases your hair. He flips you around against the counter so quickly you almost lose all the air in your lungs. Even from behind his presence is still all-consuming— feverish almost. 

One hand still squeezes your hip while the other snakes around to the front hem of your pants. He paws at your clothed cunt, his middle two fingers lingering right over your clit. You can feel the pressure of his claws through your jeans. He holds his hand there, just for a moment. 

“Take them off,” His voice is hot and low against your ear. You do as he says, unbuttoning your pants and shimmying them down your hips along with your panties. 

His rough hands massage into the plush flesh of your hips while he lingers there, his reach eventually sneaks up your shirt, cupping your bare breasts underneath. He has you completely pressed against him, playing with you like a cat plays with their food. 

Every touch of his calloused hands is pure electricity. Somehow gentle and rough at the same time. He was an expert at this, you’re sure of it. You will your knees from shaking. 

One of his hands finally trails back down to your waiting pussy, slowly dragging his fingers through your drenched folds. He holds there, pulsing his finger ever so gently on top of your aching clit— that’s when your knees start to shake. 

“Needy little thing,” he almost praises into your hair, “Never thought you’d smell this— be this—”

He breaks, suddenly forcing you over the counter. You have just enough time to brace yourself with your hands. You’re on full display for him now, bent over completely with his hands on your hips. You hear the rustling of fabric and the heavy thunk of a belt dropping to the floor.

You moan so sinfully when you feel his velvet cock running through your folds. The wet, sloppy sound is practically pornographic. 

“Oh, Christ. Oh fucking Christ,” You hear him rumble as he lines himself up, “You ready for me, darlin’?”

You nod vigorously, bracing yourself for him to just slam in. To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, it's slow… agonizingly slow. You whine as inch by inch he takes you, savoring the feeling. You feel his grip tighten the deeper and deeper he goes. You squeeze your fists to ground yourself, being pushed to your absolute limit. He’s big. He’s fucking big.

“Relax,” He grits out, “You can take me, sweet thing. You can—” He cuts himself off with a moan, finally bottoming out. He pauses there, pelvis grinding into your ass ever so slightly. You hear his breathing grow heavy, and he draws out of you. 

He slams back in with force and you scream. You hadn’t adjusted to his size yet and there was a good deal of pain mixing with the pleasure. You’d never had anyone this big. You’d never had anyone like Victor, period. A few steady and purposeful thrusts later the pain wasn’t even a factor anymore. 

He finds a pace, pulling your hips back to meet him harder and harder. It feels good, god it feels heavenly, but you can’t help but feel like this isn’t what you wanted. You want to fuck him, but you don’t want him to just use you. To not be just some bent-over whore just taking it. Maybe you’re lonelier than you realize, or maybe you're just a romantic, but either way, you need connection. 

“W-wait,” you manage to gasp out. He stops immediately, buried to the hilt and pressing you almost painfully into the counter. 

“Fucking hell— what?” you can tell he spits it through gritted teeth. 

You crane your neck around, only able to see him out of the corner of your eye. He was like a black shadow behind you, completely silhouetted by the moonlight from the window. 

“Wanna— I wanna see you.” It feels so pathetic coming from your mouth. 

You see his posture shift. He hesitates a moment before pulling out of you. You whine at the sudden loss. You stand up straight with shaky knees and turn to face the black mass with glowing eyes. 

“I want to see you,” You repeat, running your hands under his shirt and over his bare torso. You feel his muscles tense in your touch's wake. “I want to look at you when you fuck me.”

Something rumbles in his chest before he grabs you again. He hooks his hands under your ass and lifts you onto the counter. He hovers there, his nose tracing over your face but never fully touching you. Your hands haven’t left him still, he lets you roll off his shirt completely. He stands before you now completely bare and waiting. You loop your arms around his neck. 

“Take me to bed, Victor.” 

He consumes your mouth again when he pulls you into him, lifting you off the counter like you’re nothing. He carries you down the hall and you somehow manage to finally shed your shirt in the fever of it all. It catches you completely by surprise when he drops you onto your bed, you hadn’t even noticed him walk through your bedroom’s threshold. 

You lay there, chest heaving while you gather yourself. He stands there, a faceless black mass again just barely highlighted by the light from the window— piercing eyes a blaze in the darkness. You swear you can feel their burning gaze running over your body.

Your legs hang open at the edge of the bed and he stands directly between them. His upper body crawls over yours, his movements are agile and fluid like a panther. You hook your legs around him, pulling him in closer and he hums in approval.

“Frail wants to watch me fuck her, hmm?” his hands run over your thighs, those claws so dangerously close to breaking skin. 

“S-stop calling me that.” you weakly protest, “I’m not frail.”

He simply chuckles in response, a deep throaty thing that puts your hair on end. 

“Sure ya aren’t.”

He comes down on one of your breasts, rough tongue dragging over your peaked nipple before taking it into his mouth. Your hands claw down his back and up into his hair. He’s so heavy on top of you. So warm. His tongue greedily rolls around your nipple and over your chest to the other side. His chest rumbles with lust against your stomach as he devours you alive. 

He slowly comes off you, those predatory eyes glossed over with need. He crawls down your body until he’s standing on the floor again. He grabs your thighs, yanking you further to the edge of the bed. He rests his cock on top of the mound of your cunt, lazily rolling it back and forth right over your clit. Tiny gasps escape you with every velvet hard stroke. 

“Big t-tough girl wants to watch me fuck her,” he purrs. You swear you catch his eyes rolling back from the sensation, “Okay, pretty girl… you can watch.”

In one fluid motion, he slams himself back into your dripping pussy. Your entire back arches off the bed, muscles tensing with your silent scream. You didn’t expect him to be gentle, you didn’t want him to be. 

He holds there a moment, savoring the stretch around him. He barely pulls out before rolling back, grinding his pelvis against yours. He grips your legs tightly around the thigh, claws completely retracted so his fingers can dig into the pillowy flesh— he holds you for dear life while he finds his rhythm. 

“J-Jesus, you’re so damn tight,” he grits out, “Pretty thing like y-you all alone out here not getting fucked good on the d-daily… it’s a damn shame.”

You think it’s the closest thing he can give to a compliment, but you're not complaining at the moment— he’s not calling you frail anymore. 

Tiny little gasps escape you with each thrust, your knuckles going white from gripping the sheets. He looms over you, this massive beast of man drilling into you like it’s the deepest primal urge— and it’s exactly what you wanted.

Looking up at him you feel so close to danger, so close to absolute demise, and yet you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more desired than you do when he looks at you with those glowing eyes. He might be a beast, an animal as he called himself, but he is yours. Right now he’s yours and he’s giving you everything. 

“Touch yourself,” he urges through gritted teeth, his movements getting rougher, “Wanna…. See you touch yourself.”

You immediately oblige, having been so lost in the sauce that you completely forgot your own hands were an option. You release a throaty whine as soon as your middle finger circles your clit. The contrast of your gentle strokes mixed with his rough thrusts was an incredible combination you’d never experienced before. You apply a little more pressure, gasping out at the new heat building in your stomach.

“You keep… you keep making those s-sounds and I’m not gonna last.” Victor’s hands trail up your legs, moving your ankles to his shoulders. You’d forgotten you were this flexible. His fanged mouth nips at the flesh of your calves, an attempt to drown all his senses in you. 

“Trying—” He moans against your skin, “Trying not to bite you.”

“T-then just do it,” You barely manage to gasp out. You're not so sure why you were so fast to reply to something so insane. 

Those gem-like eyes immediately shoot to yours. His teeth bare down on the flesh of your calf, but not enough to break skin. The sharp pain mixed with the all-consuming pleasure makes you squeal. His tongue comes out to soothe over the freshly raw area. 

“Not yet, sweet thing—shit— N-not yet.” You have absolutely no idea what he means.

Your whole body bounces up and down against the bed, his thrusts powerful enough to make your headboard slam against the wall. The coil was tightening now, the heat building to that amazing mind-numbing climax you were both so desperately searching for.

“V-Victor– I— I—” is all you manage to squeak out before it overtakes you with a thunderous snap. The massive man collapses on top of you, pulling you into his rough body as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“That’s it— t-that’s— give it to me,” He growls in your ear like a prayer, his hips starting to spasm out of rhythm. He sinks his teeth into your neck with a deep moan as his own bliss overtakes him. Again, he does not break skin. 

He still you both there, the wet slaps of skin against skin now replaced with breathy gasps and muffled moans. You feel him spill into you as you pulse around him. His body pins yours down like a weighted blanket until both of your pleasures are spent. 

His tongue laps over the indent his teeth have made just like he did with your calf. You think it’s his own primal way of saying sorry. Still, he refused to break the skin, and you wonder why. 

“Victor…” you whisper against his ear, running soothing hands down his massive back. A growl rumbles in his chest and reverberates into your own, rattling your heart between your ribs. 

“Not done.” you think he mummers against your neck.

“What?” You pause your hands at his waist. 

He sits up from you, those predatory eyes still just as hungry as before. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” he declares before dropping to his knees on the floor, dragging your lower half with him. You grasp at the sheets for dear life while he holds you balanced there, your leaking pussy right in his face. 

“Victor, what are you— ohhhh!” You’re cut off by the overwhelming sensation of his rough tongue dragging through your folds. He laps at you as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Taste so good together, darlin’,” he mumbles against you in between the ungodly wet sounds. His tongue delves into you selfishly, the wet muscle pumping in and out while his nose nudges against your clit. Your nerves are so overwhelmed you're not sure you even register everything he’s doing. He moans into you so aggressively you start to wonder if he’s doing this for him or you.

Surely feeling this good must be illegal, you think. Surely this man isn’t actually real.

You writhe against the overstimulation, but his strong hands hold you anchored there against him so impossibly close. His entire mouth closes over your cunt, that agile tongue narrowing in to dance circles around your clit. It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

“Pretty pussy like this needs to be licked every night,” He moans between laps of his tongue, “Every goddamn night.” 

“V-Victor— P-please— I can’t—” You attempt to plead before he interrupts you.

“Yes you can,” he says it like a demand, “You got one more for me. Please… need one more.” He’s begging for it. Begging for you to come. 

Yes, he’s definitely not real. You’re sure of it now.

His attention is back entirely on your clit now, closing his lips around and sucking— it’s your undoing. 

You grasp at the edge of the mattress, your entire body arching off the sheets as your second orgasm rips through you. Victor is unforgiving, his mouth and tongue drinking you in greedily and you uselessly squirm against him.

He holds you there for what feels like hours, enveloping himself in the mess you’d both made between your thighs. He can’t enjoy this, you think. There’s no way on Earth he can be enjoying this. Yet he holds you there until your muscles finally relax again, reveling in the mess you’ve both made together. 

He guides you down to his lap and you drag the sheets off the bed with you, burying yourself in his hairy chest. He pulls you into him without hesitation, his nose burrowing into your hair and his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head— A sharp contrast to how he was previously handling you. It's…. nice. Soothing away the pain of the numerous sins you’d surely just committed. 

You both lay back on the floor, bodies effortlessly curling in around each other. The bed seemed too far away now anyway. He brings the blanket up around you both, but it feels like a useless gesture. His body is all the warmth you need. 

You both lay there in silence for possibly eons, letting the electricity in the air settle until you can think clearly— though you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to again. You can’t help but feel like this absolute beast of man has changed everything now. This stranger that you’d rescued and brought into your home has left an eternal mark on your soul. This man you know almost nothing about.

Only a single question comes to mind.

“Who the hell are you, Victor Creed?”

His chest jumps under you with a small huff of a laugh. He lets the question settle in the air for a moment.

“Sweetie, you don’t wanna know.”

[msbigredmachine]

Hoochie Daddy (Jey Uso/OC)

How many of these shorts does he have? And how quickly can she take them off him? Jey Uso/OC gym one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: I believe @southerngirl41​ is the reason for this title, lol. Let me know what you think!

All Jey gifs by @annoyedkayah2395

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

The gym in the basement of Jey Uso’s house was something straight out of the Creed movies. The floor, walls, and ceilings were solid concrete, the old school decor contrasting with the state of the art equipment within its walls. The speaker system on the far wall blasted the late great DMX as you laid waste to the punching bag in the corner. The straining of your muscles and the aching of your joints felt good. It was helping a lot with clearing your head, given the rather stressful events of the past couple of months. 

Though not directly involved yourself, you had experienced the strife within the Bloodline through your boyfriend. From Sami’s betrayal at the Royal Rumble, to Roman’s rage, Jey boycotting the shows for weeks, the uncertainty coming to a head at Wrestlemania with the twins losing the Tag Team titles to Sami and Kevin. Hit hard by the defeat, Jey reacted by keeping his distance from the group once again. He avoided everyone’s phone calls, and you happily played gatekeeper, screening his calls and keeping the doors locked from all intruders. If Jey didn’t want to communicate with anyone, then so be it. You loved his family like they were your own, but his peace of mind always came first. Always.

Which is why you let him sleep in while you came down here to beat the shit out of this damn bag. He’d gone to bed early last night and you wanted sex, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to wake him up and disturb his rest. This morning, you had to physically stop yourself from mounting him and riding him well into the afternoon. He looked so good lying there next to you, butt naked with his new chest tattoo just begging for your oral attention. That man made you horny at a moment's notice and it would have been infuriating if you weren’t already completely in love with the way he made you feel. 

So, you decided an early morning exercise would help you out with your frustrations. You learned that working out brought you to a state of erotic readiness. There was a power and excitement about exerting your entire body that amplified your arousal. It also helped that you were dating a man that shared your philosophy. Exercise energized you and Jey. The changes you’d experienced sexually in the past year were testament to this. As a couple you had transitioned from traditional sex to something so much more erotic and spiritual. Your relationship thrived as a result, and for the first time in years, you were happy.

"You’re stronger. But you gon’ hurt yourself if you don't relax your shoulders," a familiar gruff voice warned from the doorway of the gym.

You turned towards your boyfriend, locking eyes with him from across the room. You nodded at his barely clothed frame. “And you’re gonna have a yeast infection if you keep wearin’ them tight ass hoochie daddy shorts,” you shot back.

He burst into a chuckle as he glanced down at his yellow shorts, smiling that breathtaking smile of his. “You got jokes, huh?” he said, pushing off the door frame. As he approached you, his dark eyes raked over the light sprinkling of freckles over your beautiful face. He knew how many there were and could locate each one with his eyes closed. Your frizzy jet black hairstyle and crafted eyebrows made your eyes pop. And though they were hidden, he couldn’t help but drool over the outline of your nipple piercings through your thin, long sleeved Nike crop top.

You picked up your bottle of water. “How long have you been standing there watching me like a creep?” 

“Long enough. You know I can watch you all day, baby. You sexy as hell,” he winked, giving you a sweet kiss before swatting your backside. "How long you been in here?” 

"About an hour. Did some cardio first. I was horny and you were asleep.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, babe. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“I wanna fuck you now,” you pouted like a child, “Do you know how much willpower it took to not jump your bones this morning?” 

“I do. And I applaud your restraint. Usually, you can’t resist me,” he bragged.

“So damn arrogant.”

“Luh you too, boo,” he chuckled. Adjusting the Snapback around his head, he moved to the free weight area of the room. You noticed him fiddling with his phone, and rolled your eyes when he placed it in a strategic vantage point. Another IG story in the works; another day of women coming online to comment and thirst over his beautiful body. Just great. 

You stared as he pulled himself over the high bar and back down in flawless repetitions. The transformation of his body over the last year was goals, and you were inspired. However, with said transformation came the sudden need to wear only the teeniest tightest outfits to the gym, and now he had these little shorts in every color imaginable; pink, green, yellow, black, literally the Power Ranger collection of bikini shorts, with the hem just a few inches below his backside and showing off the extensive leg tattoos and the fullness of the groin that belonged to you. The material bunched up in that area as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground. Sweat glistened on his body, coursing down his defined contours, and you felt an animalistic urge to go right up to him and lick off every drop...

“Like what you see, baby?” His deep voice interrupted your dirty thoughts. Forcing your gaze back up, you saw his smirk, expressing his amusement at the heat in your eyes.

“You know I do. I’ve lost all my concentration thanks to them little ass shorts.”

“Concentrate on something else, then,” he insisted, empowered by how flustered he made you.

“I can’t. That ass is calling my name,” you whined, “You got your Daddy’s booty, I’ve told you this before.”

Jey groaned audibly. “Girl, leave my Daddy outta this!”

The side of your lips quirked, showing off the tiny dimple in your cheek that drove Jey crazy. “But it’s true. Jimmy got Kish’s face, you got his ass.”

The former tag champ burst out laughing. His girl was as crazy as she was beautiful. “You are unbelievable.”

“I know, Daddy.”

Not Daddy. Damn. His gaze followed your ample backside as you walked away, and involuntarily, his tongue darted out over his lips. Forcing himself to refocus, he settled down on the weight bench and picked up the weights he set out to train with.

The two of you worked out in comfortable silence, shooting furtive glances when the other wasn't looking. As he laid back on the bench, you ogled his dick print, his grunts of exertion causing you to bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together where you stood. Noting his attention was solely on the dumbbells, you sensed the opportunity passing you by. 

Fuck it. 

“Your video still on?” you asked, going over to him.

“No, why?”

You gave no answer, but proceeded to flop down directly onto his groin, smirking at his startled grunt. You could feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head but you didn't care. Making yourself comfortable on his lap, you started slowly, grinding your ass on his cock, feeling him harden almost instantly through the thin barrier of your clothing.

“What are you doing?” Jey demanded, scrambling to sit upright. You looked over your shoulder at him with a devilish grin, noticing the struggle in his eyes. 

“I told you…I want some dick...I want what’s mine,” you let him know, opening your legs a little wider to grind on him. With a steady roll of your hips, you moaned and whimpered at the feeling of the wetness pooling in your loins. You let his groans wash over you as you rocked you back and forth on him, bumping your ass against his abs repeatedly. 

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed.

“Yeah, Daddy, you like that?" you taunted him, looking back at him as you rode him reverse cowgirl. "Come out here looking like that and expect me not to jump you, huh?"

Jey did not know where to put his hands. You had him all discombobulated from your little ambush. He settled for the curls of your hair, tugging your head to the side to allow his lips and tongue attack your sweaty neck. This motivated you to arch your back and roll your ass more harshly, his hand in your hair making you look back at it. You knew how good you were making him feel as he shifted multiple times to make your ass stroke his dick through his shorts. His hungry eyes watched you dry hump the shit out of him, his eyebrows pinched together in total arousal. 

“Aww fuck, keep goin’,” he moaned, grabbing your gyrating backside, purposely flexing his thigh muscles to give you more friction. His husky praise encouraged you to pick up the pace. Your hips rolled diligently, your hands braced on his knees for leverage, thoroughly enjoying the sounds tumbling from his mouth. It was sweaty, it was hot, and from the way your pussy rippled, it was about to get even hotter.

Then, from out of nowhere, you stopped and stood up.

“And that’s my workout done for the day,” you announced, stepping away from him.

Jey could not keep his jaw from dropping in shock. “The fuck? Babe!” he exclaimed with wide eyes.

You casually adjusted your clothes and ignored the prominent tent in his shorts. “Yep. Pelvic thrusts. Great for mobility,” you explained, fighting the urge to laugh. He looked so frustrated, it was hilarious.

The Samoan squared his shoulders and glared at you. “Damn dick tease. I’ma get you for that, ya hear me?” he threatened.

“I hope so.” For a long moment, you regarded him, talking to him without saying a word. You were checking on him, hoping he was okay. Jey’s expression softened in understanding, and he grabbed your hand and pressed his lips to your inner wrist. The feeling of his mouth gently pressed to your skin made your stomach clench with a sweet mix of affection and need.

“See you upstairs, baby. I’ll be right up, a’ight?” he prodded gently, his eyes shining with gratitude. 

You nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go, before I bend your fine ass over my lap.” He burst out laughing as your eyes lit up at the prospect. “Go!”

“Fine.” Blowing him a kiss, you left the room before he could change his mind and carry out his dastardly threat. Like he did a couple of weeks ago, when he locked you inside the laundry room and proceeded to fuck you for an hour. In eight different positions. All while getting the laundry done. Good Lord. Could you do that again, actually?

Buying a jetted jacuzzi tub big enough for two, was one of the best decisions you and Jey had ever made, expense be damned. It was one of your favorite things about the whole house, your place of Zen and tranquility after a long day. You ensured the water was adequately seasoned with Epsom salts and eucalyptus mints among others. Turning off the hot water, you stripped off, tucked your hair into a shower cap, and lowered yourself carefully into the tub. You leaned back and closed your eyes with a deep sigh, allowing the quiet to take over the ambience. You could feel your pores opening instantly, absorbing the mint and the steam, making you feel much more relaxed.

The sound of shoes being noisily kicked off forced your eyes open, landing on the handsome Samoan culprit grinning cheekily at you.

“That looks nice,” he commented.

“It feels amazing,” you concurred, crooking your finger at him. "C'mere, Daddy. Come join me."

Like he would ever turn down such an offer. He peeled off the t-shirt that stuck to his sweaty skin, followed by his so-called hoochie daddy shorts. He blushed at the way your eyes glossed over with desire as they raked over his body. He would never stop enjoying the way you looked at him. He descended into the tub on the opposite side, allowing his legs to entwine with yours underneath the water. Once he was seated, he exhaled loudly, leaning back and closing his eyes like you did.

“Your mind’s a mile away from here,” you spoke up after a few minutes of observing him in silence. “Come back to me, baby. Talk to me.”

Jey turned his head toward the window, staring dully at the bright sky outside. When he spoke, the pain in his voice hurt your soul. 

“Tell me how I let all of this shit happen,” he whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing, man. Staying in the Bloodline to protect Jimmy. I thought I had everything under control. Until I got in that ring on Saturday night. It shoulda been just another match for me. But one look at Sami and all I saw was red. I let my emotions get the best of me. Now we’ve lost the fucking titles.” He paused, dragging a hand down his face. “The crazy part is, I believe Sami. I know he’s right about everything. Everything he warned me about is happenin’ now. Baby I just don’t know what to do.”

He looked over at you, and your heartstrings tugged at the helplessness you saw in his eyes, something you realized you’d been seeing too often lately. It was taking a toll on the usually confident, self-assured man you knew and loved. It was no secret that your boyfriend was under the Tribal Chief’s thumb, with no true will of his own. You had your own opinions on everything that was happening and you had told Jey that much, but it was ultimately up to him to do what he needed to do. 

Pushing away from your end of the tub, you waded in between his spread legs, resting your back against his chest. You always seemed to fit so perfectly against him. His arms instantly came around you, feeding off your warmth, your aura, your quiet strength that he so desperately needed.

“You’re not happy, Jey,” you assessed. “I wish you didn’t second-guess yourself so much, because your instincts are almost always right. You need to act on them again. I want you to do what’s best for you. Nobody else. Not Sami, not your brothers, not your cousin…not even me. Look out for Jey Uso this time. Just this once. And as always, whatever you decide, I got your back one hundred percent.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel him absorbing your advice, letting your words swirl around in his head. You only hoped this meant that his misery would come to an end sooner rather than later. Exhaling heavily, he reclined again, stretching one arm across the top of the tub’s ceramic surface and holding onto you with the other.

“After this shit is over, I owe you a vacation,” he spoke. “Just you and me, far away from here.”

“Ooh, yes I’m down for that,” you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah. I definitely owe you a ring, too.”

“A ring?” Your brows furrowed in confusion at first, and then it hit you. Your head angled up to meet his eyes. “Mr. Ucey Jucey, are you proposing to me?”

Jey shrugged. “I told you I’ma marry you one day, lil’ mama. I ain’t changed my mind,” he said.

“You sure you’re ready for my craziness on a full-time basis?”

“That’s what I love about you the most, baby. I ain’t letting nobody else have you, that’s for damn sure.”

“Hmm. So you’re possessive,” you interrogated.

“I just know a good thing when I see it,” he stated, gazing deep into your eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ain’t letting it go, not even with my last breath.”

“And I’m not letting you go either,” you smiled, leaning into him, “You’re all mine, my big bad hoochie daddy.”

“Stop,” he warned, licking his lips.

“Stop what?”

“Calling me that.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Make me.”

Jey's amused expression instantly became serious, and he swallowed hard as his eyes dilated. It was always a thrill for you, challenging his control, anticipating what he would do to you afterwards. Just as that thought crossed your mind, you felt his right hand glide slowly down your body.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your words dissolving into a gasp when he squeezed your right breast.

“Finishing what you started.”

Your breath hitched when his hand continued its journey down south and slipped between your thighs. Instinctively you opened them, letting him play with your pussy using the tips of his long fingers. "Oh fuck," you gasped, your head tilting back when they breached your folds, going in deep. Licking your lips, you moaned and then grunted as he scissored his fingers back and forth inside you. “Oh god, Jey, yes…”

His lips swept the length of your neck, your little moans music to his ears. "You like that, mama? Like my fingers deep in you?"

You tried to respond, but the words evaporated as he dug deeper into your pussy. You spread your legs wider in the water, letting him work you at the pace he wanted. His mouth suckled your throat, and a blissful sigh sang from inside your heaving chest, your body awash with heat as his fingers probed you. 

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

It was as though he’d cast a spell on you, the urgency with which you needed him inside you, on you, all over you. Holding the back of your head steady with his other hand, he leaned down and covered your lips with his. Your fingers raked through the wetness of his mullet fade, moving your lips greedily against his as he sped up the movements of his fingers. 

“Mmm, these lips were made for kissing me,” he murmured dreamily, and his soft words turned you to mush. Your mouth remained on his even as you rotated your body, unwilling to release him for even the few seconds it took to turn around. You climbed onto his lap and sat on him. His hands immediately sought the curve of your ass, squeezing in large handfuls. Your pierced, erect nipples pressed against his chest, delightfully rising and sinking like two round buoys in the sea. His groin felt hot against yours, just like it did in the gym. As he guided you down his length, you quickly grabbed the edge of the tub to keep from slipping. You both gasped from the familiar joy of your bodies joining, with every inch of Jey’s thick length sliding all the way inside you.

Jey didn't think he had ever felt you so tight, yet so slick and easy to penetrate. He watched you closely as you rocked your hips slowly, carefully, making sure you had all of him. You lifted your knees and wrapped your legs around his hips, your heels pressing against his lower back and prompting Jey to sit up and hug you tight. The tilt of his cock as you rolled your hips forward brought out another groan from you both. You rode him at a variety of paces, watching the pleasure wash over his face with each change. He lifted one hand to toy with your nipple, his palm squeezing your breast as you moaned in response. You paused for a second to adjust yourself on top of him, then switched up your movements, rising and falling, your pussy gripping his length tightly with every drop and dragging a hiss from his lips. You rode him good, rode him hard, your wanton gasps of pleasure echoing around the bathroom. Jey’s bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he kneaded and massaged your ass, then gripping hard as he took control, working you on his dick. 

“Fuck, yes, yes!” you groaned into his neck as he steered you on his pole, his fingers digging into your hip bones as he grinded you onto him, increasing the stimulation on your clit. Then, he was lifting you up and down, bouncing you with a desperation that turned you on even more. Words failed you at this point, reduced to a panting, moaning mess. You were dizzy from pleasure, almost at the edge of release. The water splashing around you went ignored in the throes of passion, with him growling against your throat as you whimpered in his arms.

Jey’s grip on your waist was vice-like as he bounced you harder, chasing his own release. It felt like you were cracking in two from the scorching heat you and Jey had created. You didn’t try to tamp down your moans as you came. It was sweet and ferocious and ravaging all at once, ushering Jey himself past the point of control as he spurted generously inside you. His deep, raspy groan broke you all over again, and you let the ripples plunge you into another incredible orgasm, brought on by the sheer force of his. When it was over, you were both spent and trembling in the water, breathing raggedly, clinging to each other for dear life. Jey dropped a kiss to your forehead and then your nose, the gesture warm and tender.

“Damn, Daddy,” you moaned, earning a proud grin from him.

"Ay, you wanted dick, you got it. You're welcome," he said matter-of-factly, carefully lifting you off his cock and helping you out of the water.

“So arrogant.”

“Luh you too, boo.”

After draining the tub, the two of you made your way into the shower for a proper cleansing. You ended up in there for much longer than usual thanks to your make-out session beneath the cascading water while soaping each other up. There was something so sexy about him pinning you to the wall as you kissed, your wet bodies pressed together, the little sensual noises of pleasure you both made while he gripped and massaged your ass cheeks. As you left the shower, he maneuvered you towards the sink, facing the mirror. You hissed softly as the cold surface contrasted erotically with the heat of your man's body on your back, and you braced your hands on the bathroom countertop. He started kissing your neck, his hand shifting upwards so he could caress your breasts. You watched him in the mirror, your pussy moistening further at the sexy sight.

As he continued to nuzzle your throat, you flexed your spine, pressing your ass into his groin, and was rewarded by the sharp breath he sucked in. Relieving you of your shower cap, he swept your curly hair into his fist and pressed another kiss to your throat, meeting your eyes through the mirror.

“I love the way you look at me, like you want me,” he whispered.

“I do want you. I want you every day of my life. I’ll always want you, Jey,” you vowed. The look he gave you in response was so purely masculine, so primal, visibly turned on by your declaration.

"That’s my girl. Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he instructed, kissing your cheek, “Let me show you what I see every time we fuck."

Swallowing hard, you watched his head drop, and gasped as his fingers slipped unexpectedly between your legs, gathering your juices. You could hear the wet sound of his hand stroking his dick, and you longed to turn around and look, to watch him spread your essence all over himself. His husky groan as he lined his dick up with your entrance made your pussy flutter. Catching your eye in the mirror, he smirked at your impatient expression and smacked your backside for your troubles.

"Don’t worry, you gon’ get every inch, baby, all of it, it’s yours," he promised. With no further preamble, he bent you over, used your hips to pull you up onto your tiptoes, and entered you from behind. Your sharp gasp filled the bathroom as your walls stretched to accommodate his length and girth, your body almost doubling over in the process. His eyes remained on yours through the mirror as he slowly started to thrust in and out of you, reveling in the pleasure washing over your features. 

A string of moans left your lips as his cock speared you over and over, his tattooed arm around your waist to hold you steady. Your breasts jutted forward as your spine arched back, both of you transfixed by the reflection in the mirror, both of you extremely turned on, panting with the sheer eroticism of watching yourselves have sex.

"Baby, you feel so good," you groaned, bending over slightly as he thrust deeper into you. His long fingers threaded through your hair, and he used it to roughly pull you back up, almost to a standing position. Both of you were panting, moaning, the scent of sex heavy in the air, the sounds of your flesh pounding together ringing in your ears.

Dropping a wet kiss to your neck, he growled in your ear as he stared you down through the mirror. "Look at us, baby. Look how fucking good we look together."

You did look good, especially with him inside you. Together, your joined reflection looked good. You were an amazing pair, you and the man of your wildest dreams. You spread your legs further and rocked onto the balls of your feet, bringing him deeper into you, your breasts bouncing in time to his fierce thrusts, his hand still in your hair to hold you in place. He was insatiable for you, and you for him. 

"Shit, baby, your pussy is so good. You’re takin’ Daddy’s dick so well," he rasped.

His glassy eyes and barely contained groans told you he was close to coming. A naughty idea came to your mind, and you brought your hand down to touch yourself, moaning when your fingers slipped easily over the slick wetness you found there. Jey's eyes darkened in the mirror as he watched you, his hand in your hair tightening reflexively as you started stroking rapidly, right over where his dick made that sweet connection with your pussy.

Being the showman that he was, Jey loved himself a good show. And you found that you quite liked putting on a show for your man.

You could feel your body start to heat up, your swollen clit protruding against your fingers at the same time he deep-stroked your wetness. As you watched him in the mirror, you could see and feel the tension building inside him, matching yours, your naked bodies starting to tremble from the climbing pleasure. 

“Daddy, I’m gonna come,” you whined. Those four words seemed to set him off. His movements became wilder, rougher, mounting to a rising crescendo. He had you literally on the tips of your toes, at the very edge of euphoria, finally falling over when his teeth sank into your shoulder.

“Jey!”

You exploded. Releasing one more time all over his dick. Jey was right behind you, pumping hard inside you once, twice, and groaning into your shoulder as he came. His body shuddered against yours, your orgasms seemingly pulsing through both of you together. Gripping your hips tight, he moaned again, rolling his pelvis against your thick, juicy backside to drain every drop of his cum into your warm, intoxicating pussy. You purred softly with satisfaction and rested your head on his shoulder, letting him envelop you in those strong arms of his as your bodies calmed down.

Jey slowly pulled out of you, his eyes flickering to your stance; naked, bent over with your legs splayed, with his seed trickling down your inner thighs. So fucking hot. He turned you back to him, a small smile on his face when you tiptoed up to kiss his lips and play with his hair.

“So…what else are we doin’ today?” he asked you.

“We might need another shower,” you giggled, rubbing his back, “Also, I want you to make me breakfast wearing one of them tiny shorts,” you added. “You’re gonna wear them all day and nothing else.”

“That what you want, baby?”

“Yeah, and for me and my eyes only. No videos,” you quickly added the caveat.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, laughing when you smacked his arm.

“I said what I said. I think your beloved IG fangirls have seen enough for today,” you pouted.

He chuckled at your little riot act and pecked your pouty lips. “Fine. Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, Hoochie Daddy. Love you.”

Jey could only sigh and shake his head with a big smile. He wouldn’t have your cheeky self any other way. “Love you, too, lil’ mama.”

THE END.

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

I’m on a roll with Jey rn. But I’ll 100% go back to my Tribal Chief soon. This one didn’t have too much drama, but I hope you liked it, still.

Please leave comments. I love comments!

Banner made by me. Credit to owners of the pics and gifs.

[jhkfan123]

money power glory| coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

in which: coriolanus, your classmate since forever, keeps eying you from across the academy ball. while you talked to him daily, in class and whatnot, the two of you were merely acquaintances. until now.

warnings: kind of stalker-y coriolanus snow, but not too bad. other than that nothing

wc: 1.7k

au: snows never lost their money,

the academy ball was the event of the year. funded by mr. strabo plinth, it was always extravagant. and this being you senior year at the academy, you weren't going to let yourself down.

you decided on a very sparkly, floor length gown, that shimmered with each movement. it included a very high slit that ended just above your thigh. you decided on strappy heels that sparkled just as much as your dress. your hair was half up half down, with a white bow securing the upper portion.

this year, you decided you weren't going to commit to a date. you had gone with different people over the years, but being free from a date allowed you to dance with anyone you wanted, and you liked that freedom.

the ball was always held at the swan house. it really had only started ten years ago when the war ended, but with the elegant decor and abundant flowers, you would have never known that a war was not far gone.

when you arrived at the ball, your driver helped you step out. there were many lights on, and you could hear the chatter and the music from outside. you weren't technically late, as there wasn't a formal start time, but you certainly weren't early.

when you walked in, you took in your surroundings. the dim lights, the slow music, the avoxes walking around with trays of hors d'oeuvres. the entryway had a coat check, and a seating arrangement chart, though no one was seated for too long. anyone at any given time was either dancing, chatting, or hooking up.

however, you made your way to your seat anyways, allowing you to put your bag down and have a place to come home too. then, you looked around for someone to talk to. eventually, you laid eyes on sejanus plinth, your classmate. you made your way over with a smile on your face. on the way there, you were offered a glass of champagne, and took it gladly.

"enjoying the party?" you snuck up on him. he looked over at you, breaking him out of his people-watching trance. you took a sip of your champagne.

"hardly. these extravagant parties shouldn't even be happening." you always noticed that sejanus had something to say.

"and why's that?" you asked.

"because out in the districts.." you rolled you eyes, he always seemed to mange to bring this up. "...they have nothing, not even flowers. and look at us, using them in our drinks as a garnish." he gestured to the drink in his hand, a flower floating atop it.

"c'mon sejanus, it's our senior year. you need to enjoy this party at least once." he scoffed. you looked at him, then out of your peripheral vision, your eyes set on a boy, staring over at you from the other wall.

you recognized him as your classmate, coriolanus snow. his head was slightly higher, and he seemed to be looking down at you. you flashed a closed mouth smile, not really sure what to do. he didn't return it, only lowered his head for a brief moment.

"maybe you're right. but being capitol is going to kill me." he replied. you looked back at him again.

"you know that you'd have a higher chance of dying in the districts, right?" you joked. you realized it may be a little insensitive. "i'm sorry."

"it's alright. don't worry. go enjoy the ball. i can see i'm being a mood killer." he said. you nodded, tapped him on his arm, and walked away.

you didn't get far before festus creed approached you. he was the certified asshole of your class. you rolled your eyes before he could even talk to you.

"need a dance partner?" he asked. he took your hand

"i'll find a different dance partner." you tugged your hand out of his grasp. "go find some girl to hookup with."

"i'll do that later. for now, as our last year, dance with me." he moved closer. " you felt bad for him, having to act like this to get any attention.

"you get one dance." he made a fist with his hand and cheered in the air. he escorted you to the dance floor. you reluctantly took his hand, and danced with him. you could tell he was really taking in the moment. this was not what you wanted to spend your time doing. you waltzed with him for a moment, constantly having to position his hand where you thought acceptable.

"i'll take her now, festus." you heard behind you. you saw festus gain a look of annoyance. he dropped you and walked away. then, you saw coriolanus snow. he took your hand, placed a hand on your back, and began to dance with you, picking up the same rhythm as you had with festus.

"hello." you said. for some reason, you weren't even half as reluctant to dance with him. must be the fact he rescued you from festus.

"i could tell he was annoying you." he commented. he was definitely right.

"thanks for rescuing me." you replied back. he raised one side of his mouth into what could almost be seen as a smirk.

"you know, i couldn't help but notice you have only spoke to men all night. trying to make something out of your last ball?" he asked.

"in my defense, two of them trapped me into conversation. you being one of them." you sarcastically replied.

"you don't want to talk to me just say the word, doll." you couldn't help but get flustered at his comment. he seemed to have a gentleman like attitude to him, which you hadn't noticed until today.

"how'd you get festus to listen to you? he listens to no one." you were genuinely curious to know how he managed to get festus away from you.

"he knows better than to not. i beat him up in 9th grade, got me a two week suspension." he responded. you were learning new things about him with each question and answer.

"i never knew that."

"there's a lot about me you don't know. but i'll tell you anything you want to know." now, he wasn't looking at you, but up around you, at your surroundings. "people are looking at us." he commented. looking past him, you noticed his statement was completely true. you could point out at least ten girls with a jealous rage on their face. you knew coryo was not very committal, but he didn't need to be. all girls wanted was one night with him.

"i wonder why. i'm pretty sure i'm the only girl in our grade you haven't slept with."

"you're wrong." he replied. "i'm not as much as a dick as you think i am." he continued. you glanced up at coryo, who was now looking down at you again. you couldn't help but get a fluttery feeling in your stomach. a feeling you hadn't got in a long time.

"i want to talk to you. and not here, outside the ballroom." he nodded at you. then he placed his hand on your back and escorted you out of the ballroom. you heard girls whisper around you, you assumed they thought you were leaving to go hook up with him. you just scoffed.

when the two of you made your way to the entryway, next to one half of the grand staircase.

"look. i've been seeing you eye me like a stalker for the past few weeks, and now you come and dance with me? what's going on?" you asked.

"i have been. less noticeably in prior years than more recently. i know that soon, we are going to university, and anything could happen there. but i've been looking at you." he noticed how creepy that sounded just as soon as you did. "i'm sorry, that sounds creepy." you nodded quickly.

"yeah, it does. look, if you just want to hook up with me just say that." you had assumed that's what he was getting at. with his current reputation, you didn't think anything more.

"no. i don't just want to hook up with you. but i won't deny the fact that your the most beautiful woman i've ever seen, and i have to say something now before it's too late." you blushed more than before. could you really believe what he was saying?

"oh, wow, thanks. y'know, you're much more of a gentleman than i thought you were." you added. he finally smiled.

"anyway, i just wanted to say something, before it was too late." he seemed defeated that you hadn't said much more. but you took a moment to think.

this was coriolanus snow. the son of one of the most famed generals in the war. coriolanus snow, the boy with the highest grades in the class, the top contender for the plinth prize. not like he needed it. this was the coriolanus snow that had just confessed everything to you. and maybe that was what you liked. you felt like you had power over him.

"coryo," you saw him melt a little at you sounding his name. you repeated. "coryo, i-" you weren't sure how to tell him you were willing to take a chance on him.

"just kiss me." was all you could get out. he made no hesitation in following your order. you saw a smile on his face. he immediately crashed his lips into yours, with an urge to make up for the years he had been admiring you. you didn't feel tense anymore, you just felt bliss. "coryo-" was all you could get out in-between the kisses.

you couldn't believe what was happening. you promised yourself you wouldn't give in to anyone tonight, but you just couldn't resist.

when he finally released you, you looked up at him. then, you were silent for a minute. you thought. clearly he wanted more than one night with you. and his family was powerful. and rich. and if you actually managed to get more than one night with coriolanus snow, you would be glorified. maybe he'd treat you right. besides, it was senior year. if there was any time to take a chance on him, it was now.

he was clearly waiting for you to say something. instead, you pulled him back into another kiss.

[ghosts-to-reid]

Neo Gothic: The Bibliography

These are meanings/refernces made in Neo Gothic, for those who may not have delved into the genre asmuch as they'd like...

This post is in reference to my series 'Neo Gothic' and as such some definitions are written towards to context of the story, this isn't a fool proof guide to the gothic, only a guide for my readers.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

References are in order of their mention, starting with part 1. Some are my definitions, other are from the internet.

The Gothic: A literary genre that combines Romance and Horror, Characterized by horror, Mystery, and gloom. Solidified as a genre by Horace Walpole, author of The Castle of Otranto.

Dracula: 1897 Cult Gothic Novel about vampire Dracula, who haunts a group from London, trying to turn or kill them.

Lucy Westenra: Mina Harker's best friend in Dracula, She is fed on, then turned, and eventually killed by the group. She was considered promiscuous due to her many suitors. She is given blood transfusions, however we now know the science behind these transfusions are outdated. She is finally killed in her vampiric form by beheading and a stake through the heart.

Carmilla: 1872 Predesscor of Dracula, it follows an isolated young woman who befriends a woman who turns out to be the vampire who has been drinking from her breast for years...

Carmilla (Character): An ancient vampire, often interpretated as a lesbian. In the novel, her death is achived by finding her resting place (her tomb), beheading her, and driving a stake through her heart.

Ann Radcliffe: Gothic author, known as 'The Enchantress', she published many acclaimed gothic novels in her time, including The Mysteries of Udolpho, she also wrote many essays that were published after her dath that have become acclaimed for their insight.

Rosemary's Baby: 1968 horror film directed by Roman Polanski, following a woman who is being victimised by a satanic cult.

The Exorcist: 1973 film directed by William Friedkin, following a girl who is possesed by an ancient demon.

Creed (Barbra): Professor of Cinema Studies, wrote collection of essays named "Monsterous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanlysis"

Abjection: subjective horror, or someone's reaction to physically or emotionally disturbing subject matter

The Yellow Wallpaper: 1892 Novella by Charlotte Perkins Gillman, follows the descent into maddness of a victorian woman perscribed a "rest cure"

Dracula (character death): He is beheaded and stabbed through the heart, afterwards turning to dust.

The Castle of Otranto: 1764 novella by Horace Walpole, tricks reader into beleiving it is a true story of an ancient catholic family in italy, who are victim to spiritual haunting due to their transgressions.

Castle of Otranto Death: At the start of the novel, Manfred's (The villian) son is about to marry the virtuous Isabella, however in a tragic turn of events, he is crushed to death by a giant suit of armour, the helmet becoming stuck.

Frankenstein: 1818 Novella by Mary Shelley, follows Victor Frankenstein in his abjection after playing god, and bringing life to mixture of corpses.

Annabelle Lee (poem): explores the theme of the death of a beautiful woman. The narrator, who fell in love with Annabel Lee when they were young, has a love for her so strong that even angels are envious

Raven: Inspired by the poem, 'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe

Terror: Psychological fear, feeling like you're being watched/Thinking you heard noise.

Horror: The physcial reaction to fear, a scream, the unsettling shake when you're scared.

Sanguinary/Sanguination: involving or causing much bloodshed.

Sanguinary Rosebud: Reference to Angela Carter's short story "Lady in The House of Love"

Sublime: The state of all striking awe of the natural world.

Gothic Heroine: The gothic heroine is often characterised by her lack of agency or control in her situation. Often in a vulnerable position, she is often targeted by the immoral.

Naturalist: naturalism, in literature and the visual arts, late 19th- and early 20th-century movement that was inspired by adaptation of the principles and methods of natural science, especially the Darwinian view of nature, to literature and art.

Byron: Lord Byron was a romantic poet in the 19th century, well known for his sexual escapades.

Dr Bell: Bell was the last name used in the Pseudonmys that that Bronte sisters shared when publishing.

Dr. Purcell: one of sheridan Le Fanu's pseudonmys

Quarles: One of Edgar Allen Poe's pseudonmys

[will80sbyers]

Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

[leftsomescratches]

I gotta thank ya Mod. For the headcanon of his birthday year and why he doesn’t really remember cause it made me have to think why the hell does my guy remember cause he’s old as fuck.

So thanks for making me think <3

Turns out I did this research once before, so I apologize for the inconsistent answers. Here's something I previously wrote for this blog:

So first off there are two different versions of Creed’s childhood floating around out there. The first I came across was a 2009 one-shot publication: X-men Origins: Sabretooth, written by Kieron Gillen. It features Victor’s first manifestation of his mutation through an altercation with his older brother which resulted in the kids death and Victor’s imprisonment in the cellar of their house by his father.

According to Gillien, Victor was only prisoner in that cellar for a year (if you read the comic it goes from ‘that spring’ to ‘next spring’.) However Marvel files have put Creed in that particular predicament for years. Routinely throughout those years, Creed’s father would remove Victor’s ‘Satan teeth’ believing that if he pulled out enough of them that he would Cure Victor of the devil.

An abusive and sick S.O.B. to be sure, Creed’s father has been theorized to have been abusive to his mother as well. It gives credit to the whole ‘you are the environment in which you are raised’ vibe.

HERE IS A SEGMENT FROM THE MARVEL WIKI FILES

Early Life

When Victor Creed’s mutation first manifested, he accidentally killed his brother over a piece of pie. His father confined him to a cellar and would systemically pull out Victor’s “devil teeth” in an attempt to purge the boy of his “demons”. Victor was chained like an animal in the family cellar for years until one day he chewed off his own hand in order to break free, subsequently murdering his father. Although he would later claim to have killed his mother as well, he actually spared her, and made sure she lived a comfortable life, until she was diagnosed with cancer and confined to a hospital, where she was killed by a member of the Red Right Hand.

Freed from his parents, Victor was unleashed upon society. At age thirteen, he reportedly rampaged across three Canadian provinces and killed at least three police officers. According to Creed, he remained in Canada and, at about fifteen, worked for the railroad, laying down rail from Calgary up to the Yukon. (The Canadian Pacific Railway reached Calgary in 1883 and the route up to the Yukon was completed around 1900. (If Victor Creed was 15 while laying rails that would place his birth between 1868 and 1885.) Among the workers on the line was a belligerent older man who delighted in picking on the teenage Creed. Though the man “had a hundred pounds on him”, Creed gutted him from crotch to Adam’s apple with his claws.

The other common image/ dictation of Creed’s torture in his younger years was presented in Deadpool Vol 4 issues #9 (which is part two of a three issue segment featuring Sabrethooth versus Deadpool) written by Gerry Duggan.

Mind you this publication happened AFTER the inversion event which left Creed actually on the good side of the spectrum. No longer under the control of his feral dark side, Victor teams up with Magneto in hopes to save mutant kind from the devastation that the Terrigenisis Mists, released by Black Bolt when combating Thanos, brought upon them.

Anyways, during the fight with Deadpool, Deadpool accuses Victor of killing his parents, when in reality Wade’s memory was wiped and the ultimate way to test the process was the order for Creed to take Wade to his parents house to ice them. Hey, given how many times people like Wade, Logan, and Victor got their memory wiped, exactly how much of this is truth and how much is a fabrication of their own minds to fill gaps that otherwise can’t be restored. But here’s a picture I’d wish to share:

This picture is before the oh so infamous one that has helped paste the word REDEMPTION on Creed’s forehead e.g. this one

Now for those of us who have been following the comics its clear as to why this particular scene had to happen. Creed was on the ‘road to redemption’, or as least traveling down it as best he can. The Inversion event freed him from the darkness in his mind, in his nature, that held him captive. That’s not to say Victor hasn’t been seen MANY TIMES being or helping the good guys. He’s not all evil, he just has less of a will power to push through the dark suggestions his feral nature forces him into.

So this particular segment of his past was written as it is to give Creed that redeeming sort of feel to him. So people can start empathizing because more and more has this guy started to become a very common face now that Wolverine (Logan) is pretty much dead.. then wasn’t dead and is now an old man.

What Creed has to deal with on the daily can be found in the 1995 release Sabretooth Special “Sabretooth in the Red Zone” Written by Fabian Nicieza

In conclusion.

If the consistencies of the story line remain true, Creed manifested his mutation I want to say around 7 or so.

Also in another conclusion I found this little tib bit under Creed’s father’s Marvel file labeled as Unusual Features: Amber eyes appear to “glow” (i.e. tapetum lucidum), a trait his son, would be noted by the Foreigner, to possess as well.

[limnsaber]

Mandalorian Slash Fic Rec List - DinLuke Volume I: Big, Medium, Heartfelt and Solemn

Hello!! Welcome to the first volume of Mando Slash Fic Rec- Dinluke! This is a collection of Dinluke fics that have a notable wordcount and fics that have a more heartfelt/solemn tone, sorted under headings that make the most sense to me personally. For reference, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite. Check out Mando Gen lists I, II, and III. Please enjoy and give love to our cherished fic authors who we owe so much to!! -Yours, Limn <3

Big and Long and Impressive

💜 The Wanderer and the Seer by @kevystel (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Original Mandalorian Characters, Mandalorian Culture, Diaspora, Teen, one of my favorites!!, 98k)

Din Djarin is temporarily relieved of a single dad's responsibilities, only to be saddled with the much greater responsibilities of Mand'alor. Temporarily. Hopefully. This is not the story of a great man becoming king; it's the story of some dude finding his place in the galaxy, freedom, and personal happiness through having some goddamn decency and good manners. Also the power of love, or whatever.

finding the lost and losing the found (series) by deniigiq (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Romance, Family Dynamics, Political Alliances, Teen, 35k)

“So you’re not stealing my ship?” Mando said. “What do I want with your ship?” Luke demanded. “I don’t know. I don’t usually ask,” Mando said. (Luke tries to help his student stay focused on his studies by helping his student's father. It's harder than it looks.)

A Near-Mythological Event by SybilStarnes (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Force Sensitive Din Djarin, Mand'alor Din Djarin, Living Waters of Mandalore, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Explicit, 116k)

Desperate to rejoin The Tribe, Din Djarin (with Grogu) travels to Mandalore to seek the Living Waters. Once they're in the caverns below the destroyed mine, a cave-in cuts off their exit. Grogu calls for help, and the legendary Luke Skywalker responds.  Cleansed by the Living Waters, Din returns to his Tribe to reswear to the Creed. He discovers it has new members, attracted to a Child of the Watch bearing the Darksaber. Meanwhile, Luke has offered to help Din learn to use the weapon. The Mandalorian finds himself on a new path, one that draws him deeper into Mandalorian politics and closer to the Jedi.  With the help of several guest stars, including one fat and sassy Force ghost, Din struggles to free Mandalore from Imperial dominance.

All the pretty places that feel like home (series) by SunshineAndaLittleFlour (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, two dangerous warriors coparenting a tiny frog, Explicit, 73k)

“Would you be more comfortable if I called you something else?” Luke asked, and it should have been teasing, but it was genuine, the soft freedom to be who he wanted in this place. And that careful gift, that offer of being who he wanted, uncontrolled and unfettered, filled Din with a lot of hope and a little bit of terror. Who was he without the creed? His people? Who was Din Djarin, standing in the halls of someone who had once been his people’s greatest enemy? Din shook his head, hearing his own breathing echo inside his helmet. “No. You can,” he faltered briefly, then took a deep breath. “You can call me by my name.”

buy a big house where we could both live by @villanellve (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn, Mature, 73k)

Din trails behind them and reminds himself this is temporary. He’ll make sure they get to the temple safe, and once he’s sure that Luke agrees to continue training Grogu, he’ll leave them. Grogu reaches up with his hand to tug at the edge of Luke’s shirt, and Din’s fingers flex at his sides. This is the way, he tells himself.

🔐 Get Back Homeward by berryfunkedup (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, POV Alternating, Jedi Tradtion & Culture, Clones, Getting Together, Teen, 42k)

Luke is at a stalemate with the New Republic in the aftermath of everything he lost in the war and his inheritance of the Jedi’s legacy. Din seeks his tribe and takes bounties, living according to the Way. And Grogu and the Jedi are not part of the Way. But he is definitely not the new Mand’alor, no matter what Mandalorian tradition about the Darksaber says. After Moff Gideon is assassinated while held in New Republic custody, Din and Luke must work together to clear the Mandalorians from blame and uncover the real culprit. Along the way they encounter terrible politicians, fights over naps, old secrets, and just maybe, find their way forward.

Medium and Impressive

parry, parry, strike by @alchemyalice (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Post-Season 2, Teen, 18k)

“Oh? What are you, their king?” the Senator says sarcastically, and then freezes at the same time Din does. “...No,” Din says. He does not sound convincing.

I have made this place around you by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Dialogue Heavy, Early Relationship, Introspection, Teen, 25k)

“Do you know who you are, Din Djarin?” Survivor of Aq Vetina. Mandalorian. Bounty hunter. Apostate. Father. Mand’alor. “...No,” he uttered. Luke nodded sagely. “Then that’s what we’ll focus on first.”

💜 A different kind of blood by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, The Armorer, Paz Vizsla, Good Parent Din Djarin, Good Teacher Luke Skywalker, Pre-Relationship, Mandalorian Culture, Jedi Culture & Tradition, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Teen, 25k)

A slight twist on events in Ch. 5 of The Book of Boba Fett: when Grogu is afflicted with visions of his father injured on Glavis, he and Luke make a decision that will greatly influence Din Djarin's journey toward redemption and reconciliation with the survivors of his covert.

where the spirit meets the bone by @ebonybow (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Developing Relationship, Intimacy, Canon Divergence, Explicit, 28k)

He dreams of his head feeling too-heavy on his shoulders, his helmet filling slowly with water. - Din navigates new feelings regarding his creed, himself, and a certain Jedi.

pluck a heartstring, duck for cover by owlerie (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Canon Divergence, Mand'alor Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Slow Burn, Sparring as Flirting, Mature, 28k)

“He's a bit of a sex icon, your Mandalorian," says Leia over breakfast the next morning, nose buried in a sea of taxation reports. Luke promptly inhales caf three inches up his airway and doubles over hacking gracelessly. “I— wait— he's not my Mandalorian," he chokes out, to which Leia raises a single dubious, well-groomed eyebrow.

Heartfelt and Solemn

crystals in the current by @willowcrowned (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Romance, Family, Luke Skywalker's Jedi Temple, The Force, Teen, 22k)

Luke gets the message from the child in the early evening. It’s spring on Yavin, and the wind smells like the glowing purple blossoms that cluster in the corners of old rooms and spring up through the pavement. The air is heavy with twilight, the orange-violet of the sky creeping its way down, filtering through the new-leafed boughs and down to where he’s sitting under a tree. or Luke takes Grogu, but the sundering on the lightcruiser isn't an ending; it's a beginning.

Timshel by skywalkers (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Order 66 (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Teen, 5k)

“I think there’s something I can do to help him. A technique I could try.” Luke says. “I could use your help.” “What do you need?” Din says. Anything, he thinks. Anything. “I think he would be more open to the process if you do it as well.” Luke’s eyes, keen and ever-blue, that have the impossible ability to find Din’s own behind his mask every time, meet his own. He looks unsure. It’s not something Din ever thought he’d ascribe to Luke Skywalker. “But the process can be...intense. I understand if you don’t want to do it.” Din flips it over in his mind for a moment, considering. He’s not exactly sure what Luke is asking of him. But what kind of an example would he be if he asked Grogu to do something he refused to? And, looking at Luke, how could Din refuse him anything? Not that he could ever say that. Din nods. “‘Course. Show him there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

resonance by pixie_rings (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Kyber Crystals, Planet Ilum, Gen, 10k)

Rebuilding a dying Order is never easy. While exploring the ruined planet Ilum, Grogu gets a calling, and Din and Luke reflect on their son growing up - with and without them.

the unbearable loneliness of distant stars by Liathejedi (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Teen, 10k)

Din wonders when the Jedi became Skywalker, and when Skywalker became Luke, or when the lines between stranger and friend had blurred and left him standing in an unfamiliar ship, folding bare hands around a man he barely knew and feeling like his breath had been lost to the stars. A Jedi and a Mandalorian face down the ashes of the Empire and learn what it means to rebuild a broken people.

Mand'alor, The by scheidswrites (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Grogu, Bo-Katan Kryze, Gen, 3.5k)

They called him Mand’alor the Reclaimer, Mand’alor the Unifier. Some have started to call him Mand’alor the Vanished. The rumors run rampant that he is dead.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XVI): Love Story.

Imagine you are the Lady of Mercia and Osferth is your knight.

Warnings: soft smut, drama, angst.

Warnings 2: slightly divergence with “The Last Kingdom”’s events, with you being the daughter of Æthelflæd and Uhtred, prepared to the role dutifully.

***

• We were both young when I first saw you. I close my eyes and the flashback starts… I'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air. See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns. See you make your way through the crowd and say, "Hello". Little did I know…

It all starts when you two are young. Osferth has just recently met Uhtred, promptly embraced by this warrior who is to be half Dane, half Saxon, when lady Æthelflæd thought wise to prepare you to succeed her.

By then you and him are in your late teenager days. You do not know yet, though you may suspect, that Lord Æthelred is not your father, a man who inspires no sympathy of his subjects, dismissing you a paternal concern that, how curiously, Uhtred doesn’t hesitate in giving you.

“Lady Y/N”, Uhtred side smirks when seeing you. He can tell this growing beauty has his eyes and the man takes pride in gazing at you. But the secrecy must remain what is, a secret. “What a delight is to see you again.”

Due to recent events, which are a mix of your father’s death and the treachery of some of the Mercian aldermen, this infamous pagan warlord comes to protect your mother as part of his vow to the House of Wessex.

“My lord Uhtred”, you nod your head, unable to explain the instant sympathy the man inspires you, notwithstanding the differences in your creed. “I pray to find you well, my mother has been looking a great deal to seeing you again.”

He laughs, a sound you are most familiar with. It is a secret to none that he is your mother’s lover.

“Likewise, young lady. This is Osferth, by the way”, Uhtred presents one to the other, unknowing he’s planting a deadly seed.

Osferth steps forward. This tall man inspires you butterflies in your stomach, a feeling that you, however, promptly dismiss.

“My lord”, you curtsy graciously.

“Lady”, he avoids your gaze, nodding his head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Osferth is a very good warrior, Y/N”, says Uhtred, amused by the teenager awkwardness. “He’s proven his worth and thus is here with me. Osferth, stay here with lady Y/N all the whilst I have matters to attend.”

Just like that he leaves you both. There is an awkward silence hanging between you two, so you opt to make things easier by breaking it:

“Is this the first time you stay on Mercia?”

“Nay, lady”, he slowly raises his eyes only to meet a pair of y/c irises staring at him. “I’ve been at Uhtred’s service for a few years since…eh… since I left my order.”

“Order?”, you repeat, rather intrigued. “Is my lord a priest?”

Osferth chuckles. You particularly swoon at his smile, at how handsome he is, but the pride that comes with your station prevents you to show it.

“I was, or rather am, a monk, lady.”

A small exchange of smiles occurs between you and him.

“How a monk then came to serve the great warrior Uhtred Ragnarsson?”

“This is a long conversation, lady.”

“Well, Monk Osferth, I have the time.”

***

• That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles and my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet". And I was cryin' on the staircase. Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said…

Æthelflæd raises her eyebrows when seeing how all of a sudden you are engaging in a conversation with Osferth when you have never had eyes to somebody else.

“You should not be so demanding to her”, says Uhtred, as they all gather at the table for a supper. “She found in Osferth a good companion, is all.”

“I can see the way she looks at him”, says the lady in a disapproving tone. “She will, when God wills it, be my heiress. She should know where this will lead her to.”

Uhtred limits himself giving her a look that she understands well. At times he wishes he could be more… present in your life. But in many ways he is.

As he observes you and Osferth cautiously now, he thinks wise to interfere.

“Y/N…”,Uhtred calls you. “Your mother wishes you to be more focused in your duties.”

“I do what she asks and more”, you sigh. “She is never pleased with anything I do.”

“It is the way of things. Kings and queens put duties over their sentiments”, says the warlord. “Most times they require personal sacrifices.”

You are tempted to argue, but seeing reason in his speech, what else is there to speak? You nod and giving Osferth a meaningless look, you depart without saying anything.

Osferth watches you go and, when noticing where his eyes follow, Uhtred clears his throat.

“Be careful, boy. Some prizes are too high to aim.”

The monk blushes at once.

“What is it you say, lord? I am but a bastard, a monk who, by chance, follows you in your wars.”

Uhtred side smirks in response.

“Youth can be misleading, this is all I can offer as an advice.”

But some part of the younger male wishes he’d have more time with you… however impossible it is.

***

• Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run. You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess. It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"…

You do not see him again. It takes years until tragedy reunites one with the other. Until then you slowly grow into a different woman.

Your mind is well versed in politics and languages, at least knowing enough of Latin to understand the scriptures. You try to follow your mother’s steps, but this comes with a price.

Even Lady Æthelflæd is aware of the subtle changes in your personality. Where’s that characteristically joy that used to spark behind your y/c eyes? She misses it. As well as your innocence. Would time steal it from you?

At first she opts to ignore it. But not even her loyal adviser is blind to the loneliness you go through.

“It would do well if Lady Y/N had some companions to spend her time with. However is her position now or in the future ahead, she must not live isolated.”

Æthelflæd considers. But whilst she asks him to look for suitable companions, the role of a mother, which she often mistook as the same of a queen, leads her to a shadowy road.

“Y/N”, she comes to your chambers and doesn’t like seeing some sort of melancholy in you.

“Yes, my lady?”, you stand and curtsy.

Æthelflæd swallows the hurt when seeing it’s the queen you greet, not the mother.

“We must speak.”

“Have I done any wrongs?”

“It is not about that. I fear I have isolated you. I was… concerned you might suffer mundane influences which I attempted to prevent you to succumb.”

A flash of anger is perceived in your eyes. To your mother this is better than apathy.

“I am never good enough for you, aren’t I? You take the few friends I have and send them away. If I recall your words, all was done under the pretense of following duty.”

An argument is inevitable. There is only so much you can do to hold back the temper that is an inheritance of your mother and your father, though Æthelflæd credits the latter for it.

She hears the accusations in silence. An explosion is better than a cold storm, so the queen judges.

In the meantime the royal household is trembling, Osferth has been living quietly, fighting his wars and drinking his ale. The monk clearly breaks any celibate oath by getting himself involved with women.

“It so appears that our baby monk is not a baby anymore”, so Finan cackles.

“A man does what he does”, he shrugs his shoulders.

How can it be, though, that his thoughts never left aside the only lady he’d commit his heart to? Remorse soon comes when thinking that you’d not do what he did, knowing your character. Glooming soon comes… washing away what he judges to be weakness of his flesh.

As Uhtred likes to quote, though, destiny is all and soon it works to tie his life to yours.

*

Despite amending relations with your mother, you have never been the same. Duty has forged you into an iron lady prepared to embrace the arduous task to inherit a crown that deep inside your heart you’ve never wanted it.

Nonetheless, once you prove how dutiful you are and how sharp is your wit, the witan somehow feels at easy when looking at you as your mother’s heiress.

And the day where you are expected to become Lady of the Mercians comes sooner than expected.

“I have to deliver grave news to you, child”, and without wasting time, she tells you that she’s dying.

Naturally, you are shocked.

“This cannot be!”

“It is the will of God and we must respect it. Soon, transition will occur as we have planned all these years. Listen to me, Y/N, you are ready.” For the first time in a while she looks a mother to you. “I am proud of you, my daughter.”

You lean against her forehead and, letting a sob escape, you say:

“I shall not disappoint you, mother.”

“You could never”, and she kisses your forehead, thus reconciling permanently with you.

As she secretly requests the presence of Uhtred, you are going outside to fetch a messenger when you are surprised by his presence.

“My lord!”

“Where is she?”, by the grave expression on his face, you know he’s already been informed of her condition.

“At her bedchambers”, and it’s when you see him.

Osferth stands in the corridors, his eyes reminding you of those of a lost puppy’s. Courties come and go but you two freeze in time and space.

He knows and you know. With a movement of your head, you indicate him to follow. Discreetly he does, going after you somewhere that you know it’s not well guarded—in the past it used to be the spot where your mother welcomed Uhtred.

“Lady Y/N”, Osferth isn’t sure how to address you, how to even look at you.

For one moment neither do you. It seems as these last years turned one stranger to the other, and perhaps to avoid this odd sensation, you are the one to take his hand in yours.

“My lord”, you speak in short breath. “Osferth.”

“I thought we would never meet again”, says he, daring to raise his eyes.

Studying you, Osferth sees how grown you are. How beautiful you have become with eyes dark as coal and softened features, with y/c locks falling in one long braid. There is sadness behind your y/c eyes and God knows how he wishes to take it away.

When leaning his hand to stroke your cheek, you lean it against his palm, searching for comfort. For the very first time in years you shed a tear.

“I am alone in this world, Osferth. My life is not mine. They forbid me to nurture sentiments of any nature. I am caged.”

“This is not true, lady. I’m here and will never leave your side, this I vow. I did try to forget you in the past”, he admits. “The deep affection there is in my heart admonished my weakness. I cannot nor will I ever be so blunt in letting you to yourself.”

“I am expected to remain chaste”, you sob. “Or at least to marry someone else. Save me, my lord. Save me from my fate.”

“There is little need to protest against destiny”, says Osferth. “You were born for this, lady. God has put you where you should be. I’ll be here for you. Whatever comes, I’ll be beside you.”

You bury your face to his neck, bursting into tears. Osferth is tensed at such proximity, but when he embraces you, his concerns dissipate. Your smell brings him peace and as he rocks you in his arms, he realizes how much he loves you.

Oh, what a misfortune to love a star that is too high to grasp! But Osferth has been accustomed to the night to be drowned in hopelessness. What is he but a moon in search of the sun, contemplating the vast of the galaxy?

Nevertheless, the love he feels for you is inexplicable, inexpressible, irreversible.

“My lady”, he speaks in his husky tone, reluctantly parting from you. “We must go. We cannot take so long. I wish we had more time…”

“Osferth.”

“Yes?”

“Can you do at least one thing for me?”

“Anything, lady”, he takes your hands and presses a hand in each.

“Stay with me. Never leave my side, no matter the circumstances. Be the knight I want you to be.”

Osferth knows what you ask is too much of him. Especially now how acutely aware he is where came from this pair of dark coal eyes that stares at him.

Nevertheless, he’s been too weary to stay far from you. Even if he cannot have you, the warrior monk knows he has no strength to stay away from you anymore.

“I will do as my lady commands me to.”

That being said, Osferth does a bold move that surprises you both. He takes you by your waist and kisses you at long last.

***

• So I sneak out to the garden to see you. We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew. So close your eyes, escape this town for a little while, oh oh…

You are promptly acknowledged as Lady of The Mercians, the rightful successor of Lady Æthelflæd. Duty compels you to act as honorably as you can, showing the witan and your royal uncle how sharped is your wit.

There present is Lord Uhtred, who ensures his natural daughter is safe, that the transition to power occurs smoothly.

But at the end of the day you wish to see only one person. And when everyone else is sleeping, your loyal friend lady Ælfgifu brings him to your privy quarters.

“Lady”, Osferth is surprised at your summon. “Is there something wrong?”

He drinks the view of you, trying not to succumb his lust. Years have passed since he took the oath of not letting be slaved by his flesh, especially regarding his feelings for you.

Now, the sight of your long loose hair and the nightgown that covers poorly your body, letting be captured in glimpses your firm breasts, makes Osferth face an internal battle.

“There is nothing wrong, my love. Fear not”, you short the distance between you two feigning a confidence you lack. “I am my own mistress here, Osferth.”

He gives you a cautious look.

“Time has played with us, has it not?”, the monk muses. “However, my lady, we must not be imprudent. I stand here as you wish, but I am not going to be unwise and put you at risk.”

“I understand my mother has done a vow which I intend to keep. In the meantime she has met the man I know now as my father in secrecy. We could do the same.”

“If you are certain this will not…”

But his words die at how close you two are. What time has repressed, no iron is suffice to hold back now it’s loose. Osferth himself forgets reason when his lips collide against yours and his arms are all around you.

Sighing in content, never before you felt a mistress of yourself as in that moment. When his breath and yours are combined, his strong body warming yours, your fingers let loose in his face, his features, his hair.

All the whilst his tongue dances with yours, his long and callous hands play with your hair and work quickly to remove your fabric. Once he leads you to bed, he pauses a moment to hold your face gently:

“My lady wife.”

“My lord husband”, you beam at the secrecy with which you and him express at last the true sentiments and desires to each other.

Even if this love story is not having the end you’d like, it is already written more pleasant than you’d conceived.

As his mouth drinks in your skin, his tongue twirling around your neck, his hands gently spread your legs, placing himself in between as his mouth starts to cup each nude breast. Devouring your nipples like a hungry man, Osferth for few seconds forgets he is the one experienced…

“Why did you stop”, you moan in protest when seeing this handsome and strong man right where you want him to be.

Osferth smiles at you, a smile that brightens his face which in turn makes you beam at such a view.

“I remember my lady that I must have utmost care with you, considering you are a damsel.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Is it a way to remind me you have had others in your bed, lord?”

Osferth’s smile quickly dismisses as he crawls over you.

“Lady, whilst it is true I have not behaved well in the past, I am being careful to you. We are already doing it unlawfully…”

“Oh shush! This is not the moment nor the time to…”

And here you are pleasantly swallowed his fervent kisses. Where Osferth is shy and discreet when he’s with others, right here with you he’s every inch the man you’ve read in books. Even more.

When his hand slides to your womanhood, there is no shadow of doubts or jealousy, but two hearts united in one purpose. And this is as holy as mundane, as sacred as profane, from the moment he slides in you only soon to seed you, providing a new delight never before you considered proving.

***

• Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come. Is this in my head? I don't know what to think. He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, "Marry me, Juliet. You'll never have to be alone. I love you and that's all I really know. I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress. It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes". Oh, oh, oh. 'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

You receive a visit of Lord Uhtred, who’s been too suspicious of the reason you’ve been keeping Osferth wherever you go.

“Lady Y/N, may we have a word?”, he is somewhat surprised to see you fitting well in your new role.

In spite of the burden that being the sole ruler of Mercia carries, you’ve been continuing with the hard work of your mother. Some advisors, already perceiving that you hold a favourite in the person of your dearest knight, who does not meddle in politics, keep a blind eye to his person. But will others do the same notwithstanding your utmost discretion?

“Yes, lord Uhtred. You know you are welcome here”, you dismiss the council and receive him like a daughter receives a father.

The tender gesture does not go unnoticed by the man, who softens before you.

“So much like your mother”, Uhtred whispers, a sad smile crossing his lips. “Even in temper.”

“We had our differences”, you say, leaving a hint of a resentment that never truly healed. You wish you had been better as a daughter, more committed to the cause she stood for. You try amending the remorse by doing what she’d do… though this does not mean you forget your secret vows exchanged with Osferth.

Uhtred studies you for a moment and it’s almost as if he can tell what’s been left unsaid.

“We all did, but you are doing a good work here. She would be proud of you. Leaving these matters aside, I am not here to discuss the rather unpleasant businesses King Edward’s been having with Mercia.”

You ask servants to fetch yourselves wine and food before gallantries are set aside for politics. To your surprise, however, what Uhtred comes to discuss with you is in regard of your relationship with Osferth.

“Lord!”

“There is no need to protest. I am not here to admonish you for what I’ve done myself”, says he. “Whoever you lies with is your problem, Y/N. But the point is…the oath your mother took was only performed after you were adult and well looked after. You need to continue the lineage if you do not wish that Mercia falls onto the hands of Wessex.”

“I do not think the aldermen will accept Osferth as my husband”, you hesitate.

“There may be some elements they might consider”, Uhtred strokes his chin. “Do you love this man, Y/N Y/LN?”

You smile at the question posed. Uhtred can tell you do love his baby monk, unbelievable as it is that Osferth conquered the lady of Mercia’s heart. He scoffs at it.

“I do”, and then as if hesitating, you ask: “Will you give us your blessing?”

Uhtred never considered that you’d outwit him and your mother, but looking at the sagacity with which you’ve been conducting Mercian affairs, is it really difficult to believe you’ve known all this time?

“I personally think you deserve better”, the warlord teases you. “But alas, aye! He will look after you, I’m sure.”

You nod your head, thankful for his blessing. Then a moment of silence passes before Uhtred says:

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough”, your smile spreads. “What a shame is that I will never be able to acknowledge you as my father in public.”

“It matters not”, he says. “What is more relevant is that you are well and conducting your affairs properly, something of which I’ve never harbored doubts. I’m proud of you.”

A delight this reunion proves to be, giving your heart the balsam you need.

*

You are lawfully married to Osferth before selected witnesses on a sacred day. You ensure to bring your half-siblings for the ceremony, particularly bonding to Stiorra, who, despite the differences in creed, proves to be the sister you wish you had back in your youth.

At the feast, the aldermen present themselves. Not many are content with the choice, but if the blood of Ælfred does not meddle in Mercian matters, then all is well.

“You look beautiful, lady”, Osferth smiles as you two dance beautifully in your own ways after receiving the blessing of the priest. “I never thought I’d see this day come.”

“It did, husband”, you smile back and he notices the old glee once spotted in your eyes long time ago have now returned. “I’ve always had my faith this would somehow end well for us.”

“Praise the Lord”, says he.

An exchange of loving glances is enough before the bedding parade is announced. You see Uhtred is sighing heavily, opting for not partaking of the boasting. Some aldermen snort at it for its pagan nature.

But some traditions survive the time. Therefore, you play the role of a damsel, whose gown is stripped on your way to your bedchambers, as Osferth does the same. He laughs as Finan teases him, as well as their other mates, considering they were more than familiar with Osferth’s history before you came along.

Now here you two are, alone at last.

“It brings me great relief, in all honesty, that we are no longer hidden in secret”, he admits, lying on his elbow as he admires you openly.

“As it does to me, though what we have is not a burden, never was.”

“I know”, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. “I only wish we had not taken such a long time.”

“It all happened in due time”, you smile before pulling him to you.

One kiss is enough to make Osferth’s mind go blank as well as yours. Thus it is this love story is sealed with a carnal union that mirrors that of the soul.

***

• Epilogue.

Some years later…

You pat your growing belly, watching with concern as Osferth teaches Edgar how to manage a sword.

“You must first learn how to unsheathe the sword, boy”, he speaks patiently. “And only then you will swing the basis like this…”

Edgar has the dark eyes of your father, but the hair of your husband. Except by these features, it’s a common consent that Mercia’s next ruler is very much like you.

“Be careful, husband! Edgar is not yet five”, you say, at the same time keeping an eye to the maids who look after Ædyth, 3, and Osbert, 2.

When Osferth meets your gaze, you still freeze, mesmerized by the unique kind of joy only a man like him could make you feel. After all these years? Always, you’d say to your sister.

“I will, my love. I assure you that, whatever has Finan told you about me, I’ve grown prudent”, he chuckles.

“I’m just assuring you, this is all.”

“You are fussing”, you hear a familiar voice that makes you turn your head to. It’s Stiorra, the happily queen of York. “You didn’t think I’d miss your labor, would you?”

At times you forget your belly is heavier…

“With many matters to attend, my sister, I honestly wouldn’t expect you to. But you know how grateful I am by your company.”

The thread is briefly interrupted as you are distracted by the shout of your youngest children. Osbert is crying for a reason and Ædyth is claiming she can hold a sword.

You give Stiorra a look before playing the role of a mother. As Osferth fussed with his son’s hair, thus finishing the training, his eyes linger at the familiar scenario.

“Who’d ever known we would come all this way?”, when he turns it’s Finan who speaks.

Today, he came with Uhtred for a familiar visit that has, however, political implications. It appears that Brida has been planning a vengeance at Uhtred, so the northern warlord came to ask for Mercian aid—specially when your royal uncle is not excited at the prospect of borrowing your father some men to impede this alleged Danish invasion.

“God writes in mysterious ways”, says the former monk.

“You deserve this, my friend. You have a wife who loves you, and she is rich, possessing lands and enough silver for a lifetime”, both friends laugh at his remark. “And what about your children? I’ll ensure that Edgar is training by my sons’ side when time is come.”

“You can always bring them here”, suggests Osferth. “Y/N doesn’t want to acknowledge but in due time our boy will have his own household, so he must be surrounded by good and loyal friends.”

“I’ll consider it with my wife. It’s an excellent suggestion”, Finan agrees.

As the day turns into night and the guests, as well the children, are set to sleep, Osferth and you finally have a moment to yourselves.

“What a day”, says he in the moment he slides at his side of the bed.

“Indeed. Grandmother has been very, uh, busy with our children. I fear she might spoilt them too much”, you shake your head, in reference to the King Ælfred’s wife who’s been with you since your mother’s premature demise.

Osferth is on his elbow, stroking your hair as he ensures you are comfortable.

“She enjoys a privilege few do: meeting her great-grandchildren, another generation of the old king’s blood.”

You lean into his touch, locking hands with his, watching your husband blow away a few candles.

“You bring me great delights, my love.”

“The seed is strong”, he teases you, making you chuckle quietly.

“Don’t be silly, Osferth.”

With moonlight finding its way stubbornly through half closed curtains, you see the gaze your husband casts at you. You lift your hand to play with his short hair before stroking his face.

No words are needed.

As you smile and he smiles too, you peck his lips. It is a love story and both of you said yes to it. Such is what the pens of future scribes will register.

Others will write songs. The Lady and Her Knight will echo through the centuries, with your descendants still on power somehow by the 18th century…

[enhypendata]

© 𝟷 𝟸 𝚈𝙾𝚄 do not edit/crop logo

[dertaglichedan]

Pentagon agency pauses celebrations for MLK Jr. Day, Black History Month, Pride Month, and more

WASHINGTON (AP) — The Defense Department’s intelligence agency has paused observances of Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Pride Month, Holocaust Days of Remembrance and other cultural or historical annual events in response to President Donald Trump’s ban on diversity, equity and inclusion programs in the federal workplace.

The instructions were published Tuesday in a Defense Intelligence Agency memo obtained by The Associated Press and affect 11 annual events, including Black History Month, which begins Saturday.

Here is a list of the events that the agency is pausing celebrations for:

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Black History Month

Women’s History Month

Holocaust Remembrance Day

Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month

LGBTQ Pride Month

Juneteenth

Women’s Equality Day

National Hispanic Heritage Month

National Disability Employment Awareness Month

National American Indian Heritage Month

The memo’s authenticity was confirmed by a U.S. official who said the pause was initiated by the DIA and appears not to be policy across the Defense Department. The official spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss sensitive matters.

“We are receiving questions across the workforce on the way forward,” the memo said. “DIA will pause all activities and events related to Agency Special Emphasis Programs effective immediately and until further notice.”

It also noted a pause on “special observances” hosted throughout the year. While Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Juneteenth were included, the memo said the change would not affect those national holidays.

The contents of the memo were first reported by independent journalist Ken Klippenstein and posted to X.

Federal agencies have struggled to interpret Trump’s Jan. 20 executive order ending DEI programs across the government and have taken a broad approach due to lack of clearer guidance from the White House on how to comply.

On Wednesday, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth directed staff to create a DEI task force to ensure no DEI programs remain in the Pentagon.

“We’re not joking around,” Hegseth said in an interview Wednesday with Fox News. “There’s no changing of names or softly manipulating something. DEI is gone.”

In response to a query from the AP about the memo, the DIA said late Wednesday it “is working with the Department of Defense to fully implement all executive orders and administration guidance in a timely manner. As we receive additional guidance, we will continue to update our internal guidance.”

The other annual events listed in the DIA memo are Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, National American Indian Heritage Month, National Disability Employment Awareness Month, Women’s Equality Day and Women’s History Month.

White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt was asked at a briefing Tuesday whether Black History Month would cease to be celebrated.

“As far as I know, this White House certainly still intends to celebrate, and we will continue to celebrate American history and the contributions that all Americans, regardless of race, religion or creed, have made to our great country,” she said.

[thequiver]

Who is.....Jonothan Starsmore | Chamber? - A Reading Guide

Jonothan "Jono" Starsmore is an X-Men affiliated mutant from Marvel comics first introduced in 1994. A native of London and explicitly connected to the grunge scene, Jono has always been the pinnacle of the "bad boy with a heart of gold" trope- the only difference being that in place of a heart he has a furnace of psionic energy. Jono is best known for being part of Generation X (the team he was introduced with) but has also been an official member of the X-Men. The manifestation of his powers left him disfigured and destroyed many of his internal organs as well as his jaw, leaving him unable to speak verbally, requiring him to utilize his psionic abilities to communicate telepathically. Jono's story chronicles one of self-acceptance and is one I'd highly recommend!

Below is a complete list of Jono's appearances as of 24. November. 2023, complete with links!

Generation X: A new team of mutants under the leadership of Sean Cassidy (Banshee) and Emma Frost (The White Queen) is formed at the Massachusetts campus of the Xavier Institute. The goal of this team is to earn an education and learn how to become the next generation of X-Men- their focus is not to fight villains.

Generation X (1994) #1-3 X-Men (1991) #41 <- This is part of Legion Quest which is expounded on here in my Legion reading guide - the whole event is covered in like 6 issues and is imo very worth the read as one section of it can be a bit confusing out of context Generation X (1994) #4-6 Wolverine (1988) #94 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #Annual '95 Generation X (1994) #7-9, Annual '95, 10-11 X-Men (1991) #49 Generation X (1994) #12-21 X-Men (1991) #Annual '96 Generation X (1994) #22-23, Annual '97 Incredible Hulk #Annual '97 Generation X (1994) #25-31 Marvel Team-Up (1997) #1 Generation X (1994) #32-40, Underground Special 1998, 41 X-Men Unlimited (1993) #20 Generation X (1994) #42-49 Generation X/Dracula #Annual '89 Generation X Holiday Special (1999) #1 Generation X (1994) #50 X-Man (1995) #50 Generation X (1994) #51 X-Men Unlimited (1993) #23 Generation X (1994) #52-56 Wolverine (1988) #141 Generation X (1994) #57-58, Annual '99, 59 New Warriors (1999) #5 Generation X (1994) #60-70 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #388 Generation X (1994) #71-75

Poptopia, a Delayed Joining of the X-Men, his own mini, etc.: Following graduation from the Massachussetts Academy, Jono was offered a position on the X-Men but declined instead going to London. After an unfortunate romantic entanglement Jono would return to the X-Men.

Unanny X-Men (1981) #395-398 The Order (2002) #5-6 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #399-400, Annual 2001, 402-407 Marvel Universe: The End (2003) #1, 5 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #408-409 Chamber (2002) #1-4 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #422-423

Defections + Countdown to Zero and House of M/M-Day: After altering reality so mutants were the dominant race, the Scarlet Witch then changed reality again, this time attempting to rid the world of the mutant gene, by casting another spell, "No More Mutants", de-powering the vast majority of mutants.

Weapon X (2002) #15-21 Generation M (2006) #1 New Excalibur (2006) #9

Secret Invasion: TW: THIS EVENT IS TIED PRETTY HEAVILY INTO ANTISEMITIC TROPES PROCEED WITH CAUTION The premise of Secret Invasion is that the Skrull empire, in a bid to take control of earth, replaces several super-powered humans/humanoids on earth with Skrulls.

New Warriors (2007) #2-20

Age of X: The mutants are almost extinct, tortured by a strike force led by Colonel Graydon Creed. The first signs of the Age of X appeared in X-Men: Legacy #244; the events were removed from the Earth-616 mainstream continuity, with no memories of the alternate lives. If you've taken a look at my David Haller Reading List you'll see this event explained as "David’s desire to be loved forces him to grapple with reality," and as a story that "places David in a role where he has to choose between a false universe where he is considered a beloved hero and reality where he must choose to be a hero despite the fear others feel about him." While that is the base of the event Jono also has some great moments to shine!

Age of X: Alpha (2011) #1 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #245 New Mutants (2009) #22 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #247 New Mutants (2009) #24 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #248 Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) #Alpha and Omega X-Men: Legacy (2008) #264-265

Avengers vs. X-Men: When the Phoenix Force approaches Earth, Hope Summers is assumed its next host. The X-Men and the Avengers are divided on how to handle the situation. The X-Men believe that the Phoenix Force will herald the rebirth of the Mutant Species, while the Avengers believe that it will bring an end to all life on Earth. This leads to a war between Marvel's two powerful superhero factions.

Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) #9-10 X-Men: Legacy (2008) #266-267

Jono's Miscellaneous Adventures: (which somehow keep involving David Haller?) This is now in with Legion: Son of X and the lead up to Krakoa! Jono does a lot of different things in this period (including Gen X Vol. 2) but things are a little more calm until War of the Realms.

Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) #19 X-Men: Legacy (2013) #2-6 X-Men (2010) #40-41 X-Men: Legacy (2013) #11-12 Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) #29 X-Men: Legacy (2013) #13-14, 22, 24 X-Men: No More Humans (2014) #1 Nightcrawler (2014) #3-4 Uncanny X-Men (2013) #600 Generation X (2017) #1-9 Phoenix Resurrection the Return of Jean Grey #1-3 Generation X (2017) #85-87 X-Men: Gold (2017) #30 Old Man Logan (2016) #39 Mr. & Mrs. X (2018) #6 Uncanny X-Men (2018) #11, 14-15, 17-18 Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (2015) #37

War of the Realms: Following the return of the Dark Elf, Malekith, from imprisonment, he ignited a civil war in his homeworld of Svartalfheim and emerged crowned as king. Malekith additionally began assembling a league of allies from across the Ten Realms, eventually forming the Dark Council which included among its ranks Dario Agger, King Laufey and Loki. If this doesn't sound like an X-Men plot that's because it's not, but the X-Men sure did get a tie-in and Jono's in it.

War of the Realms: Uncanny X-Men (2019) #1-3

Krakoa at last!: The following issues detail Jono's time on Krakoa and his role on the island.

New Mutants (2019) #1-2, 5, 7, 9-11 X of Swords: Destruction (2020) #1 New Mutants (2019) #15-18 Marvel's Voices: Identity (2021) - B Story X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic (2021) #1, 3-4 Phoenix Song: Echo (2021) #1 New Mutants (2019) #24 Legion of X (2022) #1 X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic (2021) #39-40 New Mutants (2019) #26 Legion of X (2022) #3-5, 7-8 X-Men: Unlimited Infinity Comic (2021) #79 X-Men: Before the Fall- Sons of X (2023) #1

[virtuousweakling]

The Ghosts of Hantengu's Past, Present and Future

Stave 1: Tanjiro's Ghost

(this story was written before Christmas but never got posted. On behalf of the new year, I decided to go for it.)

Enjoy! 🕯️

((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))((❇))

Tanjiro was dead. There was no doubt about that. Once a lively, just and remarkable young Hashira who only wished to avenge his family who had been robbed and fatally ravaged by demons, now a mere spirit who wishes solely to guide lost souls out of corruption. It's important to specify that Tanjiro was dead, because nothing good could come from the story otherwise. If we were not informed that Hamlet's father was dead at the beginning of the play, there would be no understanding as to why the events in his life played out the way they did, thus making his death extremely important. To be absolutely clear, Tanjiro was dead as a doornail. A coffin nail would be more fitting, but because it is the norm to refer to him as being dead as a doornail, I will refer to him simply as dead as a doornail. Tanjiro knew not who it was who had stolen from so many people in his village, but his impeccable sense of smell and observation skills gave him an idea of who it may have been. His priority was to hunt demons terrorizing innocent people, but finding the traveling thief was certainly on his list. Sadly, Tanjiro succumbed to death before he could accomplish his goal.

Hantengu was a conniving thief who stole from unsuspecting people regardless of their creed. He stole from the poor, the rich, the healthy and the ill with absolutely no regard for anyone other than himself! Hantengu spent his cold nights in an abandoned house that was dark and doused in cobwebs and eerie creaks whenever the slightest wind blew. He was alone and he liked it that way. No one ever came near him or greeted him with a smile and even the blind men's dogs knew to guide their owners in another direction when they noticed Hantengu was coming. On this particularly cold Christmas eve, Hantengu decided to go out and steal gifts from busy shops and pick-pocket distracted townspeople. He couldn't care less if he had no use for whatever was inside of the vibrant, neatly wrapped boxes. "If they're of any value, I can sell them!"

After some hours of playing cat and mouse with goods that had no right to be in his possession, Hantengu finally arrived at his desolate and frigid abode, heating himself a small bowl of miso soup and sitting down to eat. The strange sound of a sword being withdrawn from its sheath coming from behind his bedroom door alerted him, but he quickly shrugged it off and snickered, "Bah! Humbug." He figured there was no way anyone could find him there, and he certainly was not a demon, so there was no need to worry about being tracked. After all, he was innocent, right? As Hantengu brought the spoon to his dry lips, the same sound assaulted his ears but even closer and louder than before! "Ah," He dropped his spoon. "H-hello? Who's there?" Hantengu put the bowl down and began to tremble. A strange, echoing voice called out from behind the door. "Haaaanteeenguuuu..."

"H-How do you know my name!?"

Hantengu received a fright like none other as a masked spirit floated straight through the wooden door without even opening it! "I've come to warn you, Hantengu..." Hantengu shrunk into his seat, trembling. "Warn me? Of what! I-I don't even know who you are!" The spirit was clad in dark red robes with intricate designs that resembled both waves and flames. Hantengu found this interesting, the blend of fire and water. On his back was a box, sealed with a heavy chain. The spirit removed his finely sculpted Kitsune mask, revealing a rather attractive but sullen young man's face. The most noticeable detail about him was the burn-like scar on his forehead. "I've come to give you a chance to repent and change your ways or else." Hantengu choked on his saliva for a moment, preparing to defend his innocence until the spirit brought the tip of his sword to Hantengu's face to get his undivided attention. The spirit spoke out harshly, "No! I won't tolerate any excuses for you will atone for your actions or spend your eternity in Hell!" Hantengu shrieked and covered his face, peeking through his fingers at the ghostly figure. Hantengu noticed a rather sad look in the spirit's cloudy eyes and thought for a moment... 'Is he....taking pity on me?'

"Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits! The first at midnight... The second at 2, and the third at 3 o'clock!" The terrified Hantengu swallowed, the Adams apple in his throat rolling hard against his thin skin. "Ah, I'd ...rather not." "You have no other option or else." The spirit was stern in his words. "O-or else what?" Hantengu shivered. "OR ELSE YOU WILL DIE A MISERABLE OLD MAN WITH NO CHANCE AT REDEMPTION!" Hantengu squealed at the spirit's booming and degrading shout. "C-can't I just take them all at once and get it over with?" Hantengu bartered. The young man adjusted his mask back on his face and raised a pointed finger, "Expect the first at midnight" and suddenly disappeared. Hantengu immediately ran to his tousled bed in the corner that laid upon stained and blistered hemp mats. He quickly pulled the blanket over his face to hide, holding his knees and panicking.

[sonderlivra]

First of all, loveee your bytham fics! Wondering what your opinions on the merge between loki and basim are. Do you think Basim is evil? You write him so soft, but it never toes the line of ooc!

First of all anon thank you for the ask! <3 I'm glad you like my lil fics I'm trying my best :)

Second of all you brought up a particular subject I love to rant/ramble about so buckle up lmao.

More under the cut. WARNING SPOILER ALERT for: AC Odyssey, AC Valhalla, AC Mirage, AC: The Golden City.

All images have alt-text :)

My opinions about the merge are varied and long, so I'll start off by answering your question first.

Do I think Basim is evil? No. Absolutely not.

This is because I really don't think it's ever as simple as someone being 'good' or 'evil'. You could say I'm getting too pedantic about it, but from the very first game in the Assassin's Creed the idea that nothing is ever just black or white has been stressed upon constantly. 

For this reason I believe Basim is a fantastic character to focus on in this series. He is the poster child of 'morally grey'.

So yeah, I've seen Basim (or Loki) being called a villain but I don't think that's true. I think he's an antihero.

But before I get to that, let's talk about the merge. I've seen the merge being described as something unfortunate, something that ripped away Basim's own personality and changed him into something he wasn't. I genuinely believe that that is not true.

Basim is who he has always been.

The thing to remember is that Loki has always been a part of him. He manifested himself as Nehal in Basim's early childhood, because young Basim was getting traumatised by nightly terrors. What he thought were visions of Djinn was, in his words, “a crippling memory from a past life”. The Djinn was Loki's nightmare, and poor little boy Basim was reliving it every single night. 

Enter Nehal.

From little asides in the game, from their own conversations, it is clear Basim and Nehal had a very close bond. She banters with him, teases him, scolds him, fights with him. In the House of Wisdom, Basim tells us he used to sneak in there as a child with his best friend, and they spent many nights reading together (this is one of my favourite things about his childhood <3). Nehal has a distinct personality of her own, with her own interests, her own perspectives, her own opinions that she offers to Basim constantly. None of it is ever forced on him, he rejects her opinions and her advice many times over the course of the game. And while she (often vocally) disagrees, she respects his choices.

Then the events of Mirage happen. Basim discovers the 'truth' about Nehal, that she's not real, that she's just a part of him. Just waiting for him to accept her.

I want to take a step to the side and bring up Eivor's potential-merge moment from AC Valhalla. Because the difference between that moment and Basim’s is astounding. Throughout the game, Odin is there as an intermittent voice in the back of her head, posing questions on her moralities and her choices specifically when she kills someone with power, whose death would have major consequences. He isn't there to give her companionship or even friendship, his appearances to her look like a political advisor offering his opinions in statecraft to a leader. (Fwiw, I have not yet taken his advice once in my Valhalla gameplay lmao).

Odin: You have earned your place here, Eivor. Seize it! Eivor: Stand aside! My people need me! Odin: I have given you everything you wanted. Everything you needed! Eivor: You gave me nothing! It was all me! Odin: Yet I cleared your path. I guided your axe! Eivor: You were a fly, buzzing in my ear! Odin: How dare you deny me! Everything you believe in stirs before you! Yet you question all! You question the very gods!

And later:

Eivor: Your corpse hall is nothing but a dream! Odin: Nothing but a dream? A dream is as real as anything in this world! Do dreams not inspire? Do dreams not make us fearful? Do they not push men to their greatest glories! Eivor: Then I am done with dreaming! Odin: Stand and face me, you feeble-armed thrall!Leave me now and you are nothing! With me you have wisdom! Glory! Power! What more do you need! Eivor: Everything else.

Compare it to Nehal and Basim’s:

Basim: It is done. Nehal: No, Basim. It is only the beginning. For us. For what lies ahead. A deeper understanding of the world we left behind. And our place in it. Basim: All my life I wrestled with who I was. Who I was meant to be. And there you were. All this time. The side of me I resisted. A reflection of who we once were. Nehal: Of who we shall be once more. There is so much that awaits us. A new world. Let me show you. Basim (shakily): I will never see you again, will I? Nehal: (shakes head) Basim: Will I be… alone? Nehal: You are never alone.

So there it is. Odin tries to make Eivor choose him. He tries to bend her will, tries to trap her, to tempt her and goad her into accepting him. 

Loki/Nehal does none of those things to Basim. Instead, he/she offers Basim companionship. A complete understanding of his self. Purpose and surety in his life. Something that Basim has been lacking, has been desperate to find his entire life.

Basim is scared, sure. Who wouldn't be? But he asks if he will ever be alone. And Nehal tells him, never. He will never be alone.

Because, and now we come to Loki, he won't be.

Let's talk about Loki. Is he evil? And you know what anon, I have to give you a resounding no for that too.

Loki is, let's face it, a bit of a pathetic asshat. He gripes, he connives, he grumbles and makes annoying faces behind Odin's back. But he's not evil. He just, idk, really loves his gf and his kids man.

From one of my many conversations with @project-zorthania on discord:

Odin (who is also an asshat lbr) condescends to Loki. None of the Aesirs treat Loki with any trust or respect. Now I'm not saying Loki was completely innocent. I'm not sure how much of the original Norse mythology is supposed to be canonical in this series, and by all accounts Loki is a hell of a troublemaker. But at the core of it all is the fact that the Aesir have never trusted him because he's half-Jotunn. He's always been the outsider.

Loki's wife Sigyn is mentioned once (and not by name) in this series, so the central point of his motivations is his mythologically canonical girlfriend, Angrboda. Aka Aletheia.

(Side note I adore Aletheia. Every time I saw her in Odyssey I lit up like a light bulb. She's so badass. Dikastes of Atlantis who was instrumental in getting Juno banished for human experiments, a human-sympathising Isu who was also a hacker. And now she's also a mother of three. Hot damn.)

Loki is already unhappy with the Aesir. The one truly joyful facet of his life is his lover and their children. He loves his kids, wants to keep them safe and spend more time with them. He tries to sneak his son into Asgard to keep him close. Odin discovers the son and imprisons him.

The interesting thing about Asgard (and Elysium/the Underworld/Atlantis in Odyssey) is that we don't truly know what they looked like. All these mythical places are seen through the lens of the protagonists, our player characters. Sure, there's some Isu-ness in the architecture, the dialogues, the 'devices'. But on the whole, Atlantis still has ancient Greek architecture, the people still wear chitons and sandals because that is what Kassandra expects to see. Similarly, Asgard is just a more grand, magical version of what a Norse city would look like.

I am stressing all this because we know that that's not actually the case. The Isu were an advanced civilisation, sure, but they weren't actually gods. The Nornir were confirmed to be compilers of a great calculating software. Yggdrasil was a simulation chamber. Thor's hammer was probably an advanced weapon with, idk, sci-fi electric laser stuff going on. 

Loki's son was probably not a giant wolf.

I would like you to picture a young boy being snuck into a new strange place by his father. Imagine him being locked up instead. Imagine a teenage boy breaking his chains and trying to run. Imagine Odin beating that boy bloody and chaining him again, all because a probability machine told him that the boy would be the cause of his (eventual, inevitable) death.

That is what happened to Fenrir. Is it so hard to imagine Loki's rage? How he lost what little respect and faith he had in the Aesir?

Here’s some notes found in Urdr’s Well in Asgard, clearly written by Loki to Fenrir. The first is from my own gameplay taken a week ago, the second is from Zorthania’s stream from last year:

Here's a snippet of conversation between Loki and Angrboda (from one of the Animus Anomalies):

Lastly, here is a picture of a Literal Baby 🥺:

I could go on about this for hours, man. There’s so many more notes and hints and conversations that paint a picture of a flawed (Isu) man just trying to look out for his family.

When Loki merges with Basim, he is driven by two things: vengeance, and the need to bring his family back together. He needs to accomplish these goals no matter who or what stands in his way. But he’s more than just Loki now. He is Basim, and Basim has more than just these goals. If there’s a greater cause that’s not in the way of his own personal ones, then he’ll gladly and enthusiastically work for it.

And that brings me back to my final point. Basim is not a hero, he is not a villain. He is an antihero. This is from the Wikipedia article for antihero:

Post-merge, Basim continues to do his work as a Hidden One. He does so well, in fact, that despite whatever qualms Rayhan must have had about him (making Hytham spy on him even lol), Basim is made the bureau leader for Constantinople. Sure, his personal agenda is very much active. But at the same time, he fights the Order of the Ancients on behalf of the Hidden Ones. He ensures their strong presence in Constantinople by the end of TGC. He recognises that Kjotve is a major problem because he’s a high-ranking member of the Order. 

During Valhalla, you see him ensure that Hytham’s place in Ravensthorpe is secure, that their shared mission of re-establishing the Hidden Ones in England is successful. You see hints and implications of Basim finding more resources and information that could be important for the Hidden Ones and forwarding them to Hytham. He’s still a Hidden One. He’ll always be one.

From the ending of AC Valhalla:

William Miles: So what next? Where will Basim go? Basim: As far as I can, William. William Miles: I feared as much. Basim: Do not. I cherish the Creed that guides us. I always have.

I do not think Loki and Basim are two different beings at this point. After the merge, Basim is just Basim, just an “Enhanced” version. Basim always refers to himself as himself, even when he could be talking about Loki. He speaks of Fenrir as if he was his own son. And yet he never claims the name Loki for himself. I’ve always thought that was so fascinating. It implies a true and complete merge of the two personalities, and yet, Basim was not the one consumed in that merge. Loki is accepted, but Basim continues to be the dominating identity.

Basim is who he has always been in both Valhalla and Mirage, and no, that doesn’t mean he was always evil. It means he never was just ‘the bad guy’ and that he was and continues to be a flawed, selfish, kind, helpful, dangerous, charismatic, complex man.

Thank you for the ask and sorry for the HUGE ramble lol! <3 you are so brave if you managed to read the whole thing <3

[tempestuous-tempest]

Formal Attire

Multi-Fandom Headcanons. Main Characters. Short list.

Includes: Watch_Dogs, Assassin's Creed, Deus Ex, and Detroit Become Human

Aiden Pearce wearing a tux, always trying to loosen his bow tie because he feels like it's choking him. Halfway through the night the little fabric accessory disappears. Despises the fact he can't wear his usual cap and that he had to fix his hair with gel. Gets home and immediately takes it off and hops in the shower, feeling relief in discarding the restricting fabrics and the ichy hair products. Was a one time only thing that he rented and gave back the second he had the chance. Very uncomfortable.

Marcus Holloway doesnt mind wearing tuxes or suits. Something simpler like a formal vest or just a dress shirt is fine too. He thinks he looks good and he owns that. Will look in the mirror after putting on an outfit and whistle. He looks sharp and he feels amazing. Confidence Boost.

Desmond Miles doesnt get more formal than a t-shirt with a picture of a tux on it and black pants. There's no convincing him to wear more than that. He thinks wearing tuxes or suits is just stupid. Too many layers, too hot, takes forever to put on and take off, and too damn expensive. Besides, he doesn't know how to tie a tie. Not interested.

Adam Jensen wears what I like to call 'simplistic formal attire'. A nice dress shirt, a tie, a pair of dress pants, some formal shoes. Whether or not he does anything with his hair depends on how formal the event is. More times than not, his sleeves are rolled up half-way. Nothing fancy.

Conner wears his uniform more times than not. Though if he has to blend in, he'd wear a suit or the right level of formal attire to not stand out. He doesnt have a preference for fashion. No interest.

Kara would wear whatever Alice asked her to. If she gets to see her little girl smile, she'll be happy to dress up. Even if it's to just wear a dress around the house. She even lets Alice do her makeup. Even if she probably doesnt need it. Quite content.

Markus is another simplistic formal type but the polo shirt variation. To him clothing is another way of self expression, like art. Makes him appear more 'human'. So wearing clothes that he likes matters to him. In the end it's a simple idea of choice. A freedom.