#tasertooth

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, skyfoxfire!

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?”

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompts, #11, tasertooth

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.”

[ozhawkauthor]

Happy Birthday, queenoftricks67!

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.

[luna-orlha]

LUNAAAA. Prompt: “Humanity sucks.” Tasertooth :D

“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.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, iamtherealvd!

May 8 - Tasertooth, something sexy, for @iamtherealvd

Written by @ozhawkauthor

A late-breaking request, I decided to continue an already-existing ‘verse for this one. While it was only ever a singleshot ficlet, I always felt like there was more to tell in this story, with literally every date Victor and Darcy try to go on going horribly wrong in some way.

Originally published as one of the Sixty First Dates, the best place to find it is probably here as Chapter 13 in the Collected Tasertooth Ficlets.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019208/chapters/18379165

“I do not fucking believe this,” Victor said.

“I guess your third time lucky theory isn’t really panning out, huh,” Darcy murmured, staring up into the sky.

“We are going to have a successful date.” Victor sounded quite determined. “I’m not going to let this stop me, Darcy. If you’ll give me another chance, anyway…”

“It’s all good,” she assured him. “I’m kind of used to being around the superhero crowd now. After hearing some of Pepper’s horror-date stories, this one’s really quite mild.”

“Pterodactyls in Central Park is mild?”

Darcy grinned. “Well, at least it’ll be a good story to tell our grandchildren.”

“... Grandchildren?” Victor looked poleaxed.

“Eventual, hypothetical grandchildren. I mean, we haven’t even had sex yet,” Darcy backtracked hastily.

Victor’s eyes were nearly glowing as he stooped down over the considerable height difference between them to kiss her. “Get down into the subway,” he growled huskily. “I’ll find you later, when it’s all over.”

The kiss had left her a little discombobulated, but she managed a nod before joining the crowd hurrying down into the 81st Street station under the Natural History Museum, where they’d been enjoying their date before the screaming started. Her last glimpse of Victor was of him starting to run towards the park, long coat flowing out behind him almost like an angel’s wings.

Smiling at her whimsy, she took the arm of an old woman struggling a little with the stairs.

“Please, lean on me. Let’s get safely underground and let the supers deal with it.”

*             *             *

This was New York, where supervillains attacked or aliens invaded every few weeks, so the trains were even still running. Darcy took the first one going in the right direction and was back in her apartment less than half an hour later, watching the news.

Once things were over, she tried Victor’s cell, but he must have switched it off. She kept watching the news feeds, looking in vain for a glimpse of him, but he’d long become adept at avoiding cameras.

The knock on her door almost made her jump out of her skin. Leaping to her feet, she hurried to look through the peephole, immediately unfastening the locks and throwing the door open when she saw Victor through the fisheye lens.

“Oh my god, are you all right?” He’d lost his coat somewhere along the way, she saw, along with quite a lot of the shirt he’d been wearing underneath. One sleeve was gone entirely and the other one was just ragged strips hanging from the shoulder seams, rents all over the fabric not doing much to hide his broad chest. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine,” Victor said with a shake of his head, stepping inside the apartment at her urging. Darcy closed and locked the door behind him before turning to look him up and down more thoroughly.

“Take it off.” She gestured at his shirt. “I want to see if you’re hurt.”

“I’m not,” but he obediently stripped the ruined shirt off, letting her take it and throw it in the wastebasket. “One of the flying things tried to grab me off the ground, that’s how my coat got destroyed and my shirt torn. It learned the hard way that I’m not prey. I got a few bruises and scrapes when it dropped me, but they’re already healed up, promise.”

Darcy opened her mouth to ask just how high he’d been dropped from before realising she really didn’t want to know. Closing it again, she inspected Victor’s torso with greedy eyes, ostensibly checking him over for wounds or contusions but really just enjoying the view, she was honest enough to admit to herself privately. He really was quite spectacular, thick with well-defined muscle, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist in almost as perfect a Dorito triangle as Cap himself.

“Your pants are ripped, too,” she remarked, noticing a long rip below his right knee.

“I could take them off,” Victor said, “if you were okay with me being naked in your apartment, that is.”

Darcy pretended to think. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe if you got naked, and then I could decide?”

“Minx.” He pretended to stalk her, and she fled, squealing, into her bedroom, Victor right on her heels.

“Darcy,” he said, his voice low and rough, “if you don’t want to take our relationship to the next step, this game needs to stop here.”

“Oh, it’s stopping here.” Darcy turned to face him, pulling her T-shirt off over her head. “Right. Here.” She patted her bed.

“Darcy.” It was a definite growl this time as he prowled forward, towering over her, his eyes glowing an uncanny gold. She showed no fear as she tilted her head up, smiling at him; but then, Victor reminded himself, this was the girl who’d Tasered both Thor and Magneto, the latter one when in full possession of his powers. Darcy was no fool, she knew when it was time to take cover, but she showed no hesitation when the opportunity to take action arose. She knew exactly what she wanted, and apparently what she wanted at this moment was Victor Creed.

He was more than willing to oblige.

[marvelousbirthdays]

March 3 - Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis or Victor Creed/Darcy Lewis, something fluffy/smutty maybe with prompt "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." for sionnachoiche3

Written by @meilan-firaga

Darcy hadn’t exactly planned for impromptu, middle-of-the-woods ravishment when she’d picked out her underwear that morning. And by “picked out,” of course, she actually meant “summoned from the depths of the drawer where panties that should have been tossed years ago lived.” Actually, she wasn’t even sure she’d brought the kind of panties one would pick out with her when she’d packed for Jane’s little “research excursion”--also known as Operation Get Over Thor By the Power of SCIENCE!

Seriously, the town they were in was so remote that you had a better chance of running into a rampaging moose than an eligible bachelor. The good panties didn’t deserve to be brought so far only to suffer that kind of neglect. Which was a damn shame because back home she had quite the killer collection for a perpetual intern with pop tarts for a salary.

“I feel as though I might not have your complete attention, soulmate.”

Right. That guy. The woods and the ravishing.

There had been a bit of an incident.

Bad guys came for Jane and the Research. Darcy made a smartass remark. One bad guy pretty much instantly turned on the other bad guys with brutal efficiency, snarked out some words that just so happened to be the ones printed across her entire underboob, and promptly stole Darcy away to the romantic undergrowth of the conveniently nearby forest. They’d been thoroughly making out (which she was absolutely not going to be ashamed about because “Go, Universe!” her soulmate was a fox) and had just started to make with the neck kissing and wandering of hands beneath clothing when the Underwear Conundrum began to gnaw at the back of her mind.

“I had thought that your sharp tongue and forceful delivery during the fight might mean my soulmate wasn’t some empty-headed wilting flower, but I’m starting to think I got my hopes up.” His voice had been deep and rumbling from the get-go, but it suddenly held the beginnings of an angry growl. She didn’t know whether to quake with fear or an awkwardly timed giggle. “I’ll ask again: Where are your thoughts, Darcy?”

“First off, you didn’t actually ask that,” she snorted, reaching up to run one hand over his short crop of hair before pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “Take a chill pill, my dude.” She shifted beneath him until she managed to dislodge the pinecone that was becoming intimately acquainted with the lower portion of her spine. “I’m not ignoring you or anything. Well, not on purpose, anyway. My anxiety brain is just picking a bad time to say hello.”

Her soulmate sat back on his heels and quirked his head to one side in a way that was surprisingly reminiscent of a cocker spaniel. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he absently ran his hand from her knee to her hip, squeezing gently when he reached the top of her thigh. The tips of his--nails? Claws? Whatever.--caught just slightly on the fabric of her leggings. “Are you anxious because I arrived with men who probably would have killed you?” he asked with a frown. His hand made the trip back to her knee and up to her hip once more, and Darcy started to suspect that the action might become a nervous habit. “Because I thought I took care of that problem.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow and let out another snort. Rapid murder of would-be kidnappers had definitely solved the immediate problem when they met, but she really hoped he wasn’t going to try that tactic for every issue they encountered. “No, we’re cool on that,” she assured him, tugging on his shirt until he leaned down enough for her to drape her wrists over his shoulders. He was watching her intently--a predator focused on his prey even outside of a fight--and another thought popped into her head and out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You know my name, but I never got yours.”

Surprise briefly lit his hazel eyes before he folded down over her like a cat settling into a particularly warm patch of sunlight. “It’s Victor,” he rumbled against her lips. “Victor Creed.”

“Victor,” Darcy breathed, testing the sound just before he fused his mouth to hers once more. The name was familiar in a way that said she’d probably read it in all those S.H.I.E.L.D. files that had hit the web, but she had better things to focus on. Like the way he’d already learned that tugging her bottom lip between his teeth would make her hips rock against his own. Or how she’d already figured out that dragging her nails across his shoulder blades even over his shirt would pull a hungry growl from his throat.

“Does that resolve the anxiety?” he inquired in a throaty rasp as he started to nibble his way from her jaw to her shoulder.

In spite of her efforts to focus on the effect his teeth, tongue, and stubble were having on her lady parts, an image of threadbare cotton with useless elastic rudely shoved itself to the forefront of her mind. There might have been holes. Possibly a faded My Little Pony print.

“No,” she whined, “this bitch doesn’t go away that easily.” With a frustrated groan she dropped her arms from around him, pushed her glasses into her hair, and scrubbed both hands over her eyes. She felt him push away from her, possibly sitting back on his heels again. “Look, this has nothing to do with you and who you are and the things you’ve done because, I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous and growly and made of muscles, which is pretty much exactly the type of soulmate I always wanted to have and yeah it might be weird that I’m ready to jump on that pony right out of the gate when we met under weird ass circumstances but I’ve never been the type to think I was going to make my soulmate wait because Hello! Sex is awesome and again with the you being a pretty batch of sexy beast in a Darcy-approved package and I’ve always had this thing for bad boys and that’s definitely a bonus but here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure I’m wearing panties I’ve had since high school that definitely don’t match the two sports bras I’ve got on to tame the girls--one’s pink and the other’s about the same color as a yellow highlighter--and I don’t think I’ve shaved in a month and my brain keeps insisting that the second you get me naked you’re going to run away screaming.” Darcy finished on a deep, ragged breath with her hands pressed to her eyes. If she didn’t look at him she wouldn’t actively see him reject her.

“Is that all?” Victor asked mildly, shifting again to lie more fully against her. Darcy flung her hands away in surprise as his hips settled between her thighs and definitive evidence that her little freak out hadn’t diminished his interest in the slightest pressed against her. He was propped up with his elbows resting on either side of her head, muscular arms holding the majority of his weight so the rest of his body could lie flush against her own. He brushed one hand over her hair and settled her glasses back on her nose before he continued, a soft smile on his face that she suspected might not be a familiar expression.

“First of all, I don’t care about what you wear or if anything matches.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m told I’m a bit old fashioned when it comes to body hair, so as long as you’re comfortable with it I’m not going to care about shaving either.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I will always remember the day you were born and your words appeared on my skin because it was the day I realized that I might not be meant to spend my life alone.” The other cheek now.. “I promised myself that the life I’ve been living would end the day I met you, and I intend to keep that promise. I’m yours until you’re through with me.”

The kiss Victor placed on her lips next was gentle--almost chaste, even--and didn’t last more than a few heartbeats before he raised his head. “Now,” he insisted, winking at her before he continued. “The way I see it we’ve got two options. We can go back to town and wait for all this until you’ve had time to pamper yourself to your heart’s content. I’ll even buy you whatever undergarments you want. Or…” He trailed off and flashed her a grin that pretty much convinced her that he was going to be trouble. “Or I can promise not to look while I rip the panties you’re so worried about off and toss them in the bushes. Then we can get back to business.” To cap off the whole wonderful speech he bit his bottom lip and gave her a once over that could have melted those panties off her completely.

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” Darcy asked, internally doing a victory dance at the sultry tone she could hear in her own voice.

Victor huffed a laugh and gave her a quick, teasing kiss. “I always keep my promises.” He rocked his hips against hers again, providing the most delicious type of friction.

“Option 2, then, but don’t ruin my leggings. I like these.”

“Excellent,” he purred. He delivered another kiss--this one anything but chaste--then made his way across her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear. “Hold down your top,” he rumbled, pausing to gently nip her earlobe before sitting back on his haunches once more. He pulled off her boots and socks before peeling the leggings down, his eyes never once leaving hers.

This was not the first time that a man had gotten it into his head to rip off Darcy’s panties--or a woman, actually; there was that interesting night with a lady firefighter that she was never going to forget--so she’d prepared herself for the pain of having cloth pulled tight over particularly sensitive places. Instead, both of Victor’s hands slid up her thighs (knee to hips, totally some type of tic), worked their way beneath the bottom hem of her panties, and shredded the fabric. His nails sliced cleanly through what remained of the cotton and elastic in seconds. He tugged them off her and tossed them over his shoulder without a glance, then set about letting his lips follow that knee-to-hip path but along the inside of her thigh. There was no anxiety left in Darcy’s mind when his teeth sank into her skin just short of the spot where her leg met her torso and she let out a sound that couldn’t be called anything but a mewl of want.

“What a nice little sound,” Victor growled, his breath ghosting over the spot where she really wanted him to put that sinful mouth. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

And he did.

And by the time they’d picked themselves off the forest floor to head back into town--hand in hand--Darcy didn’t even care if he saw the scrap of cotton she swiped out of the bushes so they wouldn’t litter.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, holieshka!

December 25 - Tasertooth, a continuation of Ozhawk’s “Marvel-ous Birthdays January - April 2017” chapter 42... maybe it’s the two of them completing their soul bond? And / or using the prompt “So how are you going to make this up to me?” smutty and fluffy for @holieshka

Written by @ozhawkauthor

It seemed to take an eternity of arguing, and threats of smiting, and faint rumbling growls in Victor’s chest which only stopped when she was touching him, before Darcy finally closed the door to her apartment - which was clearly too small, what the hell had she been thinking when she told Tony it was big enough - and turned to look at Victor, who was dwarfing her living room in a way even Thor didn’t manage to do.

He was looking back at her with those gold eyes that were definitely not quite human. There was something very, very intimidating about him, something that made even the Asgardians finger their weapons and eye him closely. Darcy had to do an awful lot of fast talking to convince them to back off and leave her and Victor alone.

“So,” she said, “how are you going to make this up to me?”

“This?” Victor rumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“Having me kidnapped. I mean, it was a nice touch ‘accidentally’ breaking the neck of that guy who threatened to kneecap me…” She made quotation marks with her fingers, saw his lips twitch up at the corners. “What?”

“There was no accident about it. Anyone who threatens my soulmate dies.”

She stared at him.

He looked back at her calmly.

“Okay, that’s a bit terrifying,” Darcy said slowly.

Victor took a step towards her. “I would never hurt you. I will lay down my life before I allow so much as a single hair on your head to be harmed, Darcy Louise Lewis. Whatever you need me to do to make up to you what you have suffered today, I will do.”

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t know where you learned the old-timey charm, but damn. You’re good.”

“I am… quite a few years out of practice.”

He was closer now, towering over her, but somehow she wasn’t at all intimidated. She was… something else. Licking her lips, she considered her next move.

“Take your coat and shirt off again. I want another look at my words.”

Victor obediently stripped off his coat and shirt, tossing them over the back of her couch. He didn’t turn around to show her the words on the small of his back, though. Instead he asked;

“Where are your words?”

Moment of truth, Darcy…

“They’re on my ankle.”

Muscles in his chest and arms rippled, and she was lifted off her feet almost before she could blink, pressed back against the wall. Quite gently, she had to admit.

“So if I was fucking you up against the wall like this,” Victor said, his tone almost conversational even as his hips shifted to grind the thick hardness inside his black cargo pants up against her crotch, “and you wrapped your legs around me, that could be how we’d bond?”

Darcy’s eyes rolled back in her head. “Yes, please.”

Victor’s laugh was low and husky as he bent down to nuzzle at her throat. “You don’t yet know what you’re asking for, my girl.”

“Your cock.”

He laughed louder, and then, to her dismay, set her on her feet and stepped back, holding her back with one ridiculously long arm as she tried to clutch at him. “That, you can have. The bond needs to wait a little longer. There are some things I need to tell you first.”

“Can they wait until after we fuck?” She eyed him greedily. “Because honestly, after what today’s been like, a de-stressing round of ferocious sex really sounds like something I’d enjoy.”

Victor seemed to be struggling with himself. Figuring she’d help him along with the decision, Darcy pulled her sweater off over her head, thanking her lucky stars that she was wearing one of her favourite bras, a black satin number that made her breasts look great.

A growl rose up in Victor’s chest again, but it was a different sort of sound this time, not angry but lustful. Darcy grinned.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” she beckoned, and darted past him, heading for the bedroom. She was absolutely certain he could have caught her if he’d wanted to, but instead he followed her, kicking his boots off and shucking his pants on the way, so that by the time she stopped by the bed he was stark naked.

“Get undressed,” he rumbled, “or I can’t promise your clothes will be usable again.”

That was so hot, as was the look in his eyes. Darcy felt all fingers and thumbs as she struggled out of the rest of her clothes, until finally she too stood naked before him. Victor’s golden gaze swept her from head to foot and back again before he took a long stride forward and scooped her up in his arms.

“No bonding,” he rasped, “no putting your legs around me.”

“Then you’d better let me be on top.” She smirked at him.

Victor’s golden eyes gleamed. “The first time. You can be on top the first time.”

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, multi-fandom-girl2!

November 24 - Tasertooth with a sprinkle of feminism and over-protective brother/father figures (The Avengers) for @multi-fandom-girl2

Written by @backwardsandinhighheels

“Okay, I’m heading off for the night!”

Tony looked up and whistled. “Nice dress, Lewis. Got a hot date tonight?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Grinning as Tony’s jaw dropped, she turned to go.

Only to find the door slide shut in her face, and refuse to open. Darcy spun on one heel. “What the hell, Tony?”

“Who is this date with? Do I know him? Has he been properly vetted?”

“Are you done?” Darcy asked, exasperated. “I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll let you go when you answer my questions.”

“That’s not how this works, Tony. Despite rampant speculation, you are not my father and I wouldn’t answer those questions from him either, though I might expect them.” She turned back to the door. “Jarvis, I’m initiating subroutine 131 to shut down this lab for the evening and send everyone home. Please disengage the doors.”

“Certainly, Miss Lewis. Subroutine 131 engaged.”

The doors swished open and Darcy walked out, enjoying how the click of her heels on the floor made a very nice counterpoint to Tony spluttering behind her.

“What — what is subroutine 131? I didn’t program it, Jarvis. Jarvis?”

~~~

The problem with a communal kitchen, Darcy mused, was that other people used it. Her focus on the coffee machine was broken by the regard of an eagle-eyed archer paying far too much attention to her neckline.

“Is that a hickey, Darce?”

She decided to brazen it out, now that her coffee was brewed. “So what if it is?”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, you move fast.”

“As a matter of fact, we’ve been seeing each other for a while.”

She could see the gears ticking over in his head. “Is it Carmichael?” She shook her head. “Jenkins?” She shook her head. “Hunter?”

“Give it up, Barton, you’re not going to guess. Why are you being so pushy, anyway?”

“Because you’re being cagey, and that’s got me curious. I can’t believe you’re going steady with a guy I’ve never met.”

Something must have shown on her face because he leaped on it faster than Thor on the last poptart. “We have met! It can’t be one of the other Avengers, you would’ve slipped up by now, but one of the other teams we liaise with? Is it Johnny Storm? I know he was hitting on you last time they swung by.”

“Nuh-uh, he’s not my type. And would you look at the time? I gotta go get ready.” Clutching her mug to her chest, Darcy fled before she could give it away. She wasn’t ashamed, but she knew her friends too well to think they’d approve of her choice and she wanted to put that conversation off as long as possible.

“Give it up, Darcy,” Clint yelled from behind her. “I’ll work it out soon enough.”

Darcy shook her head and kept walking.

~~~

Darcy loved living in New York, except for when she hated it. Something about it seemed to attract the brunt of alien invasions, mad scientists, and general mayhem, criminal and otherwise.

She blamed the tourists.

It was a typical winter’s day, blustery and cold, the kind of day Darcy would happily have avoided, except her favourite cafe required stepping outside. Besides, the X-Men were in town and Darcy wanted to get out of the Tower.

Headphones in, hands stuffed in her pockets, and scarf wound tightly around her neck, Darcy trotted down the street. Spotting a bank ahead, she remembered she had to get some cash out and stepped inside. Right then, the idiot behind her pulled a gun and yelled for everyone to get down.

Darcy hit the floor and hit the panic alarm on her bracelet in the same movement. Lip curled, she watched the guy rush up to the counter and demand cash. He had no idea how much trouble he was in — and he didn’t even have any accomplices, either.

Screw this. She wanted her white chocolate raspberry muffin, and if she was stuck in here for too long, they’d run out.

Furnished with a bag of cash, the would-be robber backed towards the doors. She waited for him to get within reach before tasing him. He fell to the ground twitching, seconds before the windows burst in. Tony hovered outside, one arm still raised. He was no doubt recording everything through the suit.

This meant he had a prime view of the 280-pound mutant bounding in and scooping her up in his arms.

“Who do I need to kill?” Victor muttered into her hair.

Darcy took a second to cuddle into him before shaking her head. “It’s okay, I took care of it.”

“What happened?”

“Just some stupid bank robber. Turned his back on me and my taser.”

She could feel the shaking in his chest as he struggled to contain his laughter. “Good.”

There was a familiar whine behind him and she froze. “Uh-oh.”

“What is it?” he asked, going still.

“Sabretooth, put the girl down,” Tony commanded through his Iron Man suit, weapons fired up and ready.

Darcy muttered a swear word under her breath. “Oh, this is going to be great fun.”

“I’m warning you,” Tony continued.

She swatted at Victor’s chest. “Put me down, you big lug.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Remember that thing you like with the chocolate sauce? Well, if you ever want to enjoy it with me again, you will put. Me. Down.” She punctuated each word with a jab to his chest and he growled.

“Fine.”

Thor reached them seconds after her feet touched the ground again, closely followed by a bunch of other heroes — some she recognised, some she didn’t. It seemed she’d interrupted some sort of meeting.

“Lady Darcy! Are you well?” Thor boomed.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah, sorry I panicked and hit the button. I ended up tasing the guy, he’s back there.”

There were a team of police officers entering the bank, so Thor merely glanced behind her before returning his attention to the mutant with a possessive arm around Darcy’s waist. “And who is this?”

“This is Victor, he’s—”

“What are you doing with him?” Tony asked.

“I was literally just telling you that, Tony.”

“You should step away, Darcy, he’s not safe.”

Darcy looked pointedly at Tony’s weapons. “Neither are you. Power those down before somebody gets hurt.”

He stiffened, which she hadn’t thought possible when wearing the armour. “Are you under duress? Professor, is there any sign of coercion?”

“She sure ain’t in her right mind if she’s with the bastard by choice,” someone muttered in the crowd, obviously pitched loud enough for everyone to hear. Darcy pegged Wolverine as the speaker and glared at him.

“Would you like to say that to my taser?” She tossed her hair and shifted her glare to Tony. “I’m fine, we’re happy, and you can go back to whatever meeting of the minds I interrupted.”

“She’s telling the truth,” another of the mutants confirmed. “Apart from the happy part, but I think that’s more situational than general.”

“He was your hot date?” Tony exploded, finally putting the pieces together.

Darcy threaded her fingers through Victor’s and shrugged. “Yes. And I don’t need your permission or your approval, so shut it.”

The pronouncement did nothing to ease the tension until Clint pushed his way to the front. “This is the hickey guy?” He shook his head with a low whistle. “You were right, I wasn’t going to guess that.” He paused. “So Darce, what was that thing you were threatening Sabretooth with? The chocolate sauce thing? Heard it through Tony’s comms and enquiring minds want to know.”

Darcy smiled blithely. “Cheesecake. Victor just loves my homemade cheesecake.”

“Wha- you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Her smile turned a little bit evil. “You’ll never know.” She tugged on Victor’s hand, her fingers interlocked with and dwarfed by his. “Come on, let’s go have cheesecake.”

Victor grinned as the assembled heroes had no choice but to let them through. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?” he asked, loud enough for their audience to hear. Various among them choked, including his brother. In other circumstances, he would stay to laugh at their faces. Today, he had other things on his mind.

Things like Darcy. And cheesecake.