for @littlemrscookie
253 words
Rated T
I can’t resist you
~~~~~~~~~~~
The wolf sniffed him, Victor was somewhat amused, because this thing had approached him in the forest and acted like it was going to defend its territory, but then all it did was sniff him.
Sniff him and then shift into a nude woman who had her head buried against his chest. “You smell... glorious,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes. “What is that?”
He shook his head. “CK Ine?”
She gave him a very unamused look and shook her head. “It’s clearly an imitation. Under that, wise-ass.”
“Wise-ass? You’re the one who came upon me in the forest and started smelling me.”
“You’re complaining about a naked woman smelling you?”
“Not if she’s gonna do more than sniff,” he said with a smirk.
“Tell me what you are, and we’ll talk,” she murmured. “Because you sure as fuck aren’t human.”
“X-Gene,” he answered, leveling his gaze with hers. “You still want a bite?”
“I want more than a bite,” she grinned. “I’d like the whole damn thing.”
Victor had done some pretty crazy things, but he’d never slept with a woman without knowing her name. Werewolf or not. “What’s your name?” he murmured.
“Darcy,” she replied. “Why?”
“I like to know a name. Just in case I need to use it.”
“I won’t heel or anything like that, so don’t get any bright ideas, dude.”
“Victor,” he corrected her. “Might like it if you used it too.”
Victor,” she purred, her hand sliding down his abs towards his belt.
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June 22 - Victor Creed/ Darcy Lewis. If it could be a soulmate fic, where they meet for the first time during a mission where they’re in opposite teams. For @skyfoxfire
Written by @backwardsandinhighheels
“It’s just a fact-finding mission, Darcy. We’ll be with you every step of the way, Darcy. You’ll be perfectly safe.” Darcy jiggled the door handle again. “Why do I let myself get suckered into these things?”
It had sounded simple enough, when they asked her. Dress up, attend a fancy party, get lost, and drop tiny listening devices anywhere she possibly could. She’d had her doubts, but they’d been quietened by Tony’s silver tongue and Steve’s endless reassurances. More fool her, because the creep of the week was being backed by the Brotherhood of Mutants.
Magneto had found the bugs, someone had pointed her out as the socialite last seen in the area, and Darcy had run. She was now somewhere inside the old European castle the creep was using as a base and hopelessly lost for real.
Darcy shoved at the door and was rewarded with a faint click and the handle turning easily. She stepped through and took a moment to reassess. Her earpiece had fallen silent several twists and turns ago, which couldn’t be a good sign. The beautiful shoes Nat had forced on her had been abandoned a while ago and her feet were stinging. She still had her clutch, but all it held was a phone without signal and a tube of lipstick. She missed her taser desperately, but Clint was right - it would’ve been confiscated at the door.
Muttering imprecations under her breath, she ventured deeper into the castle.
“She must’ve been one of the X-Men,” Toad insisted. “We have to get out of here!”
Victor didn’t bother to restrain his eye roll, but stayed silent.
“If she was a mutant, why did she run?” Mystique pointed out. “I think she’s human.”
“Charles would never put a human in harm’s way,” Magneto insisted. “And the complexity of these devices -” he gestured to the flattened remains of several bugs “- suggest she’s with Stark.”
“Tony Stark?” their patron - Victor didn’t bother to remember this one’s name - gasped. “We have to get out of here!”
“We need to find the girl. The Avengers are notoriously soft-hearted - they won’t dare touch us if one of their own is at risk.” Magneto flicked his gaze to Victor. “Sabretooth, find her. Toad, make sure our host doesn’t leave. Mystique, you’re with me.”
Victor grinned. “And here I was thinking this party would be boring.” He grabbed one of their host’s security staff, enjoyed the fear in the other man’s eyes. “Show me which way she went.”
~~~
It was lighter up ahead.
Darcy switched off her phone torch and waited for her eyes to adjust. The darkness in front of her was not as thick as the darkness behind her. A few steps and two corners later, and she found herself in what looked like an old cellar. Giant empty barrels lined the walls and stood in rows, dust motes swirling in the light from what she assumed was the exit.
Her earpiece crackled to life. “Darcy? Are you there? Your signal’s come back online.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, fingering the pendant that held her microphone. “Don’t know where here is but you lot better have a plan for getting me out.”
“One of the bugs made its way to the server room and we have all the evidence we need. We’re coming in. If you can’t get to the main courtyard to meet us, just sit tight.”
“Okay.” Darcy perched herself on one of the smaller barrels and waited. A scuff, a footstep, caught her ear. “I think someone’s coming,” she whispered, shoving herself off the barrel and ducking behind it. Spying a loose plank nearby, she curled one hand around it.
~~~
It was dusty in here. Victor hated dust. It tickled his nose and deadened his sense of smell. He glanced around, taking in the cellar and the undisturbed dust on the stairs to the other exit. There had been no offshoots from the tunnel for some time; his prey was in this room. He stilled, half-closed his eyes and listened for her breathing.
Confident of her location, he crossed the room in easy strides and leaned over the barrel. “Are these yours?” he asked silkily, holding up the strappy stilettos he’d found further back.
He’d been prepared for terror, for frozen paralysis. He wasn’t prepared for the socialite to swing a plank into his face like a baseball bat and take off running, mostly dodging a swipe that caught her necklace. He certainly wasn’t prepared to see her stumble to a halt, clutching at her shoulder, and twist to face him
“Did I just break my soulmate’s nose?” she demanded.
Victor froze, his own shoulder rippling with sudden pain that vanished as suddenly as it had began. He prodded at his nose. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“But the soulmate thing? Did I just imagine that, or-”
Victor took a step towards her and she took a matching one away. “I want to see.”
He pushed his jacket, then his shirt, off his shoulder, revealing looping script. His soulmate came closer, raised one hand to trace the words. “May I?”
At his nod, she ran a delicate finger along his mark before pushing the strap off her own shoulder, exposing creamy skin and his own rough scrawl. “I’m Darcy,”
“Victor,” he replied. “You with the Avengers?”
She smiled, a crooked little thing that seemed out of place on her expressive mouth. “Sort of. I think this is going to be a one-off, to be honest.” She tilted her head up at him. “Is that going to be a problem? I’m guessing you’re with Magneto’s Brotherhood.”
Victor shrugged. “Easy come, easy go. Even Magneto won’t argue with soulmates, if I keep my head down. Your lot going to have a problem with me?”
Darcy scowled. There was something adorable about it. “They better not,” she said mulishly, then looked back into the cellar. “Also, yes, those were my shoes. Could I have them back?”
Snorting back a laugh, he fetched the impractical shoes and watched with interest as she fastened them. “Do you know the way out?”
“Nope.” She slipped her arm in his. “But if you can get us to the main courtyard, I’ll get us out of the country.”
“It’s a deal,” he rumbled, “but first -” he lifted her chin with one finger and leaned down to kiss her.
~~~
Clint shielded his eyes against the setting sun and hoped Darcy was okay. It has been too long since her microphone had fallen silent, but Tony reported that her earpiece was moving, and in their direction.
An old door in a nearby wall fell open with a crash and Darcy stumbled out, closely followed by Sabretooth. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick was smudged, and half her dress was coming off. Clint nocked an arrow and pointed it at the other man, who halted.
Darcy stopped too, and only then did Clint notice they were holding hands - and the words on Darcy’s shoulder. “He followed me home,” she informed him cheerfully. “Can we keep him?”
You got it!! thanks to @bloomsoftly for beta magic <3
11. At a pumpkin carving contest ‘Who came up with the idea of a contest where all the contestants have knives?!’
Pairing: Darcy/Victor Creed (Sabretooth)
Rating: G
“Who came up with the idea of a contest where everyone has knives?!” Darcy hissed to Jane at her side.
“Definitely that guy,” Jane whispered back.
Darcy followed her nod over to the man that was prowling- like literally prowling like some kind of wild cat -out of the barn, three enormous pumpkins balanced in his arms like they weighed nothing. And a belt hanging with knives that looked like they belonged on a surgical table. He had something between a sneer and a smirk spreading over his face as he looked around the collection of people gathered under the tent.
Darcy kind of thought she should have done some more research about this pumpkin carving contest. It had sounded like fun on the little Facebook event she’d seen floating around. But her little Honda Civic stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of muscle cars and motorcycles parked chaotically around the property. Not that she wasn’t down for a little subculture Halloween festivities. But she would have worn her leather jacket instead of the sweater she found at the Salvation Army covered in fuzzy orange pumpkins with candy corn button eyes.
Yeah.
The man reached their station, two pumpkins left in his arms. “Ladies, you look new,” he said, voice purring and slow.
“We’ll take the really big one, thanks,” Darcy said, reaching out to grab the stem of the beautifully round and outrageously heavy pumpkin in front of her.
“Are you sure?” He asked, grin narrow and one skeptical eyebrow raised. “We don’t go for stenciling at this event.”
“Do you know the kind of control it takes to install a magnetic pin into mass spectrometer without frying the motherboard?” Jane asked the man, arms folding across lavender-colored flannel.
“I have no idea what that means,” he said, looking between the two women, brows furrowing even as his smile grew.
“It means we’re gonna win this contest of yours,” Darcy said, joining Jane in her intimidating arm crossing. It might’ve been even less effective when she snagged at some of the fun fur yarn.
He just grinned. “There’s a haunted hayride around the farm in it for you if you do.” He leaned slightly forward into Darcy’s space, smile widening as she held her ground. “I’ll even let you hold my hand if you get scared.”
Darcy noticed that while the guy’s smile was actually pretty nice, if not terrifyingly sly and dangerous, his canines were unnaturally sharp.
“Good luck, ladies,” he said before carrying the less impressive pumpkin off to the last station.
“You know what, Jane?” Darcy whispered, watching the man walk away.
“What?”
“We’re gonna win this thing. And when we do, I am gonna hold his hand. That whole. Damn. Ride.”
Jane cocked her head slightly to stare at his swagger and the faded elbows of his leather coat. “Goals,” she agreed.
_
It took them a bit to get comfortable with the deadly selection of tools they were granted for carving. (‘A guy named Victor Creed would design artisanal cutlery,’ Darcy huffed under her breath after finding the little pamphlet explaining that the pumpkin farm was owned by the elite knife maker.) But in the end Darcy was proud to say that she was sure they were at least in the top three of carved pumpkins.
They’d done a gruesome portrait of a decapitated figure carrying its worse-for-wear head by the throat. If the coat was familiar and the disembodied smile had sharp looking teeth, well, they’d only borrowed inspiration from real life. So as long as Mr. Creed didn’t take offense, Darcy thought they had a decent chance of edging out the admittedly remarkable Victorian haunted house, and the spectacular but obscene tableau of werewolves fucking. If it had been up to her and Jane, the werewolves probably would have won for sheer gall.
Victor Creed stood in front of their pumpkin for a long time. Just smirking. Darcy tried not to twitch when he glanced at her over his shoulder. Then he took two white candles, put them in their competitions’ pumpkins and set them alight. Inside of hers and Jane’s he lit the winning black candlestick.
And despite her expectations, the biker gangs were really happy for her and Jane.
“I scare very easily,” she said to Victor Creed after he pulled her up behind him into the hay-filled bed of the wagon.
He blinked at her, mouth slightly parted, clearly surprised. When he recovered his eyes were slanted hungrily, scanning her face
“Yeah, you look the type,” he said, dry as the desert. “Lucky for you I keep my promises.”
February 25 - “Who the hell are you?!” Tasertooth for @queenoftricks67
Darcy was angry. She was very, very angry. Unfortunately at the moment the only way she could take out her fury was by kicking the seat in front of her, and her captors had taken all the fun out of that the moment one of them pressed a gun barrel against her kneecap and told her that she didn’t need to be able to walk to be useful. She settled for growling imprecations under her breath instead.
“I feel sick,” she announced after about half an hour - she thought it had been about half an hour, anyway, it was kind of hard to tell with a black pillowcase over her head.
“Shut up, bitch.” The gun barrel tapped on her kneecap again.
“I’ll shut up, but I’m gonna barf, and this bag ain’t gonna hold it all in. I had tacos for lunch, too. Gonna smell pretty bad.”
“We’re nearly there. Hold it fucking in or I’ll make you fucking eat it.”
She clenched her jaw. She was definitely going to point this bastard out to Thor for a good smiting with Mjölnir. If she could figure out which one he was when they took the damn hood off, anyway.
It was almost funny how often the idiots looking for Jane managed to mistake Darcy for her boss. Possibly that was because Jane was insanely good at being unobtrusive and often managed to fade into the background. Or maybe because the idiots inevitably came during the day when Jane was sound asleep in her trailer after a hard night of stargazing and math, and Darcy was in the lab instructing the interns and looking like she was In Charge.
Apparently this bunch hadn’t bothered to look at a picture of Jane either. One small feisty brunette was apparently much like another in their books. Darcy sighed and tried very hard not to puke, consoling herself with the thought that it surely wouldn’t be much longer. Heimdall would just wait until she stopped moving to send in the cavalry… or rather, Thor and the Warriors Three.
The car finally stopped, just as she was losing the battle with the nausea. The car door opened and she was yanked out roughly.
“We got her, boss,” a voice said excitedly. Darcy thought it was the guy who’d been threatening her kneecap with the gun. He was standing behind her, holding onto her left arm. Smiting, she thought at him viciously.
“Bring her inside,” a new voice said. Darcy would have remembered that voice if she’d ever heard it before, she was quite sure. It was impossibly deep, a low basso rumble that made all the hair on her arms stand on end. It sounded, she thought foolishly, like the roar of a tiger. She smiled under the hood. The voice probably belonged to a little tiny guy. Someone the size of Tyrion Lannister. Although it did sound as if it was coming from quite a distance above her head… maybe he was up a flight of stairs or something.
Kneecap Dude pushed on her arm, and she moved forward, feeling with her feet, but there were no steps. Just flat ground. Soon she was pushed to sit down in a chair, and the bag was snatched off her head. Blinking in the light, she squinted up, and up, at the man standing in front of her.
He was gigantic. She suspected he might be even bigger than Thor, tall and solid, a long black coat over black pants and sweater making him look dark and menacing. His eyes gleamed gold as he looked down at her, an instant before he frowned and said
“Who the hell are you?” in that stomach-trembling, impossibly deep voice.
“I am Darcy Louise Lewis, and you, buster, are in a shit ton of trouble,” she snapped back at him.
Gigantic Dude took a step back, before turning that golden stare on Kneecap Dude. “Get out,” he growled.
Darcy half expected the other man to argue, but he almost ran from the room, the door slamming behind him.
That golden stare returned to her, even more intense, and the smartass retort that had been rising up in her throat died a sudden death as he slowly, menacingly, stripped off his black coat.
Oh fuck. He could do a lot of damage to me with his bare fists before the cavalry arrives…
The shirt followed, revealing a heavily muscled chest, thickly furred with dark hair running down to a fine happy trail down the centre of perfectly defined abs. Darcy cursed her stupid brain for her eyes following that happy trail all the way down to his belt. He’s gonna undo that next, and then take off his pants and probably rape me… she had no illusions about her ability to fight back against a guy built like a tank.
“Darcy Louise Lewis,” the now half naked giant rumbled at her.
“That’s me,” she said, trying for a flippant tone that didn’t quite come off.
“My Darcy Louise Lewis.” He turned his back on her, and she stared disbelievingly at the words running in a scribbled line right across the small of his back.
“Fuck a duck,” was all that she could think of to say. Lightning crashed overhead, and she winced. “How attached are you to the idea of being a bad guy?”
Her soulmate - whose name she still didn’t know, she realized - shrugged those huge shoulders. “I’m a mercenary. Can’t say that I care about good or bad as long as the money’s good.”
“Trust me, Asgard has more riches than you can possibly conceive of. If you want to survive the next five minutes, do exactly what I say.”
Victor considered his tiny, unexpectedly human soulmate, and shrugged. “Alright.”
“Pick me up. You’re rescuing me, okay? What’s your name?”
“Victor. Victor Creed.”
“I like it,” Darcy decided as he swung her easily up into his arms. He couldn’t help a smile as she hooked a small arm around his neck. He had the distinct feeling that Darcy Louise Lewis was going to keep him very busy indeed.
“Humanity sucks,” Darcy tells the big looming man, who seems like he’s going to run off to catch up with the rest of the X-men, until she speaks and he stops. “Really sucks.”
She kicks a rock to where the quintjet was and sighs. Frankly, she’s not surprised that the Avengers left her here. Darcy’s not going to kid herself on how high her priority is on their list and she’s not going to complain. She’s just Jane’s sidekick who actually can fight (it still surprises them to this day) and in light of some purple monster covering New York, they’re not going to wait for her to limp into the quintjet.
“So why are you still here?” Darcy asks the very tall man who seriously could use a manicure.
“I agree with you,” the man gives her a toothy grin and pulls his collar down. Tattooed just below his collarbone are the words ‘Humanity sucks’. “They call be Sabretooth by the way or Victor if you prefer that.”
“Oh!” Darcy flushes. That must have been some terrible soulmark to live with. “I’m sorry...”
“Don’t be.” He shrugs. With a swift movement, he lifts her up in his arms, his nails carefully placed to not pierce her skin. “Now, let me demonstrate that I can be as fast as a quinjet.”
----
Notes: Eh, I’m having a writers’ block on my MCU fic and noticed I STILL HAVE tumblr prompts rotting in my message box. So here’s me fulfilling one.. or maybe a few? *shrug* Sorry if it’s ooc.
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for @nefariousinkblot
460 words
Rated T
Rue - An (almost) missed connection
a/n: Yes I made a fake tweet for this ficlet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darcy had tweeted in the hopes that he’d see it and message her.
And he had.
Victor, his name was. Victor Creed.
And he hated coffee, but he’d enjoyed talking to her so much that he was going to meet her at Common Ground. That wasn’t a turn of phrase, it was the name of the coffee place she’d chosen for their meet-up. She was fairly certain he wasn’t going to show up. Because in no real word was Darcy Lewis’s life reminiscent of a romance novel.
She’d told him that she’d be the hottie in a black skirt and a purple face mask. He’d told her he remembered. And he’d be wearing a black face mask and a gray t-shirt.
And she’d hella remembered what he was wearing.
So now she was nearing the end of her pumpkin spice iced coffee and he was nowhere to be found.
It figured, but at least she’d just consumed like seven hundred calories of pure caffeine and sugar and would now be jumping off the walls instead of moping. Thor only knew where she’d be if she hadn’t done that.
“Darcy?” a voice sounded from behind her.
She stood and turned at the same time, making some weird reverse corkscrew move, and came face to face with that same man-candy that had been sitting beside her on the metro. Well, as close as social distancing dictated anyway.
“Victor,” she said, grinning and realizing that he couldn’t see that behind her mask. “So glad you made it.”
“Sorry I’m late, I...” he trailed off. “Had myself convinced you wouldn’t come but then I thought what if you did and I wasn’t here... and so now I am and...” He trailed off again.
“You wanna sit down?” she asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Great. I’m gonna go... but you have fun, kay?” She winked and he laughed.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Nah. I wouldn’t. Not after all the typing I did to compose that masterpiece of a tweet,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wouldn’t be able to tell that I do that for a living.”
“You tweet for a living?” he asked.
“Yup, but before I get into it... are you going to get a cup of coffee to stare at or did you just want to stare at the bare table?”
His eyes looked brighter and she figured he might be smiling. “I’ll go do that. You’re gonna be here when I get back?”
“Not going anywhere,” she replied.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Darcy watched him go stand in line and took a deep breath to calm down. He was here. This was happening.
Darcy ran her tongue along his jawline, pausing over his pulse to feel it thud over her tongue.
“You’re hotter than most,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” Victor said, grinning as she sighed.
“Temperature-wise, I mean...”
“Oh, I suppose you’ve seen more attractive men in your many centuries of life?” He teased.
“I’ve seen many men. You are one of the more attractive,” she whispered, closing her eyes as the thud of his pulse resonated throughout her body like it was hers. Like she was a part of him and he of her. “You’re certain you want me to---“
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Pretty sure you’re not gonna drain me.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I think you could. But you won’t, is what I’m sayin’,” he explained.
He had her there. She didn’t like to drain her conquests. Where was the fun in that? Her fangs clicked down. “You’re right, I won’t.”
He tilted his head and she sank her fangs deep into his flesh, groaning as her mouth was suddenly flooded with life.
for @artemisgarden
392 words
Rated T
Maybe we can help each other. What do you ask for in return?
~~~~~~~~~~
Victor reached up and tugged at the collar of his shirt. He despised wearing button downs, but he’d figured it was appropriate attire for a Lewis Family gathering. Boy, was he ever wrong.
While everyone else stood around in shorts and faded sports team t-shirts, Victor stood out like a sore thumb wearing what could only be described as work-casual. Not to mention he was baking in this getup.
Darcy slid in beside him and hooked her arm through his. “Hey, can I borrow you for a second?”
“Yes,” he said, probably too quickly, but he really didn’t care. He didn’t plan on ever seeing these people again if he could help it.
Once she pulled him out toward the car, she leaned up to give him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “We can leave in five minutes.”
“Oh thank the gods,” he said, exhaling. “Does this pay off my debt?”
Darcy shrugged. “I mean... I guess. You technically fulfilled your duties. Even if you do smell like sweat and shirt starch.”
“You didn’t tell me the dress code.”
“I said casual!” she protested.
“Your dad’s shirt is covered in paint.”
“Well lah-dee-dah, Mr. Creed. I had no idea you had such high standards.”
He rolled his eyes, and reached for the top button of his shirt. “Well, now you know,” he teased.
“Thanks though. For doing this. My family might think I’m mostly normal, even if my ‘boyfriend’ has a big stick up his ass’.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” he asked, reaching for and unbuttoning his cuffs before rolling them up his forearms.
“Bless the goddess, put those things away, there’s a playground with children right over there,” she gasped, grabbing his wrist and pushing his arm down. She glanced around furtively to make sure no one saw.
“You wouldn’t let me undo them for the whole damn cookout,” he said. “Not sure why it would have mattered.”
“Because while it would have definitely ensured that I was attracted to you. I’m saying, that’s indecent,” she glanced down again. “I was about to cast a cooling spell on you, but I don’t think you deserve it now. I gotta say bye to my mom, I’ll be right back, kay?”
“I deserve it,” he called after her. “I deserve it, Darcy!” He reached to to roll up the other sleeve.
