Kitten And Grizzly

Kitten and Grizzly

Summary: Sy finds out what his kitten really wants

Word count: 941

Warnings: mentions of primal play, mentions of masturbation

What Sy held in his hands was not what he had expected. Not quite. He thought his kitten would read tearjerkers.

She rarely allowed this form of girly hobby in front of other people. Hid them outright. He remembered once coming home from a binge earlier than he thought because one of his friends had broken his leg and finding her on the sofa watching Bridgerton. Her cheeks flushed abruptly, but she just said, "Shut up." and turned back to the TV.

He had sat silently watching along with her. Actually, he shouldn't say something like that, but he liked the show. So when the second season came out, he just turned it on for their weekly movie night and pressed (y/n) against him. "I want to see what happens to Eloise," he shrugged.

They were both treating it like their little secret.

So he would have expected that this secrecy around her Kindle was simply related to the fact that she just preferred to keep this girly preference to herself. Without comment from the outside.

But when the little device was switched on and lying forgotten on the bed and he read the first sentence of the page, he realized that he had been mistaken.

He wasn't stupid. He had heard of Fifty Shades and had also seen the movie, but it had amused her rather than being a serious read.

But after what he had now read, he realized why. Fifty Shades was probably rather laughable against this. Before he knew it, he was lying on the bed, immersed in this new world. Got to know a whole different side of his kitten. Neither of them were prudes, but she had never been so explicit about what interested her. Was she actually interested, or was this just a more outlandish outing for once? He hesitated, but then looked at the considerable library on the device.

He read through the summaries and some reviews. One theme seemed to run through. Primal Play.

He memorized a few titles and put the Kindle back in its place as he had found it, only this time turned off.

He said nothing about it for now. The next few days, when his kitten was at work, he spent reading more and more of the books he had found. Not only once did he have to interrupt himself to get relief. If she liked that sort of thing, he was definitely into it.

Little fantasies crept into his head. How he caught her. Burying her underneath him. How she would live up to her nickname and scratch his back until red streaks decorated the skin. How he would growl when she bit him as hard as she could. Animalistic lust.

He wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted her that way.

He needed to talk to her. Today.

He waited until they were lying on the sofa together, watching a horror movie.

He cleared his throat hesitantly. "Kitten we need to talk," he began. She broke away from his embrace and looked at him uncertainly.

He looked back uncertainly. "First... It's important to me that you know I didn't WANT to snoop," he began, holding his index finger up to her nose. "But your Kindle was on the bed, turned on, and I picked up a phrase and then I just couldn't stop." He looked at her searchingly. She let no emotion flit across her face. Her walls completely intact and set on a defensive course.

He sighed. "Why didn't you ever say you liked that kind of thing?" He stroked her calf gently with his thumb. She shrugged her shoulders. "Kitten. Come on. If there's one thing I can say, it's that these ideas don't leave me cold, and I really, really want to hunt you." He grinned at her, but that grin fell from his face as she got up and left.

"Kitten!" he called after her, following immediately.

"Sy. This isn't going to work." she sighed still walking.

He grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. "Why?"

She slumped her shoulders. "Because my head won't cooperate," she sighed.

Sy was confused. She let her back fall against his chest. He held her tightly. "It's not about the hunting," she began. "It's... In the books... It's just feelings and actions. It's no thoughts. It's not overthinking. It... Damn you know me Sy. I always think about everything way too long until my thoughts are no longer thoughts. It... I want someone to rip this burden out off my mind. I don't want to have to think. I want to be able to just be, if only for a short time, but I can't. And I never will be able to. All I have left are the books." She literally fell against him. "If you want to chase me through the forest like Little Red Riding Hood, we can do that. But that's not really what this is about for me."

He turned her around and she dropped against his chest in surrender. He just held her close and stroked the back of her head.

"I just want you to feel good," he mumbled softly.

"I want to. But I'm afraid that if I do, I'll just be disappointed.", she murmured humbly into his chest. "After all, you're made for this.", she said and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Sy grinned. "I'll be your grizzly if you stay my kitten."

She sighed. "We'll try."

He smiled and continued stroking her hair. "You just wait kitten. I've managed to handle a few other missions."

She smacked his chest.

They laughed.

Better Half

Summary: Napoleon's better half is not what anyone would have expected and yet it is exactly what one should expect.

Warnings: none

Word count: 448

"I know someone," Napoleon said, taking a sip of his drink.

Illya looked at him emotionlessly. "Those are top-secret KGB files. Not even I had access to them."

"Jealous that I might know more?" he grinned at him and winked teasingly.

"It's impossible."

"That word doesn't exist in their vocabulary."

"And who is this mysterious gentleman supposed to be?" asked Waverly. "A friend from...the art trade?"

Napoleon shook his head. "SHE deals in other merchandise...information. There's nothing she can't get her hands on." He smiled into his glass. "If there's one thing I've learned from her, it's that a room is never truly empty."

Illya rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to waste on an untrustworthy affair."

Napoleon looked at him piercingly. "I wouldn't suggest her if I didn't trust her."

Waverly tapped a pencil thoughtfully on the tabletop in front of him. "And what makes you so sure?"

"If she wasn't trustworthy, I wouldn't have married her.", he replied simply. "Albeit under a different name." he shrugged and downed the rest of his drink as the rest of the gathering stared at him in bewilderment.

________________________________________________________________

They were sitting in a ramshackle motel. Only Napoleon remained standing, meticulously keeping away from all the furniture. Dust layed thick on the small dresser next to the bed, whose springs had also seen better days and squeaked happily when Gabby changed her position.

The door opened silently, although that shouldn't be possible with the rusted hinges. A small figure entered the room. She wore a worn flat cap, a too-long brown coat, and baggy pants topped off with a pair of scuffed brown leather shoes.

At first glance, anyone would have seen a fourteen-year-old paperboy. It was only when the figure removed their cap that the too-long hair became apparent. Napoleon moved toward her with elegant steps and took off her coat.

"Still quite the gentleman." she grinned at him.

"When am I not?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh I can think of a few situations.", she returned just as teasingly before reaching into her waistband and pulling out a piece of paper. "You know the drill. I was never here and this piece of paper never existed." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you where there are no stars."

"On the fifth of May?" he asked.

"Sounds good." She tugged playfully at his tie, destroying the symmetry of the elaborate knot, before disappearing from the small room as quickly as she had come.

"Cute." said Gabby as Napoleon held out the small note to her.

"What's her name?" asked Illya.

Napoleon grinned with a soft expression around his eyes. "That ist something noone really knows.“

Soulmate

Summary: Ransom finds his soulmate... and runs away.

Word count: 982

Warnings: fluff, use of (y/n), coffee gets spilled

Ransom hung out on the escalator leading to the upper sales floor of the bookstore, holding his coffee.

Harlan had threatened to cut off his allowance if he didn't participate more in the business, so he had to help out with the local reading.

He drank his coffee in large gulps. He wasn't used to getting up this early. No one should have to leave bed before two in the afternoon.

He grumbled into his cup. The stairs pushed him and his grandfather up.

He could see the first display tables. At the very front, a hodgepodge of Harlan's books. He let his eyes wander and suddenly the air was knocked out of his lungs. His heart stood still, yet raced twice as fast as usual. He was dizzy and the world was limited only to the inconspicuous side profile of a woman. She was standing in front of a table, looking at blind date books wrapped in brown paper.

He was so fixated on this girl - his soulmate - that he didn't notice that the escalator had ended and fell to the floor like an idiot. The rest of his coffee soaked into the carpet when he looked up.

She was looking at him. Wide eyes stared at him from an astonished face.

Fuck!

Ransom pulled himself together. His instincts took over and.... he ran. Turned around and took the other escalator straight back down.

(Y/n) looked completely overwhelmed after the blond mop of hair. So that's what everyone meant by, "You'll know when it happens." But why is he running away? He's not supposed to run away. God! What if I can't find him again?

"Excuse me, miss," a voice snapped her back into this world.

She looked beside her and gazed into an old, kind face.

"I have to-", she started, but was immediately interrupted.

"Don't worry. This is my grandson." He smiled calmly at her. "I want to apologize for him. He's not used to feelings." He smirked. "He didn't get very far. To the front door, at most."

"How would you know?"

"Because I ran away when it happend. I made it to the front door. When my wife found me, she hit me with her purse. I knew then, she's the one." He grinned. "You should know about your future, that Ransom is not easy."

Ransom... "He's not easy... But?", she asked.

"That's it." He shrugged. "He's not easy. I never was, either. Me and my wife still love each other." He smiled and pushed her toward the escalator. "Go after him."

Ransom stood in front of the building, ruffling his hair. What a fucking idiot. Who runs away from his soulmate? How do you blow something like this out of proportion? Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. The one person who would have been doomed to actually like him and he screws even that up. His mother was right.

"Ransom?" asked the hesitant voice of an angel.

He turned and there she stood. Cautiously, she approached him. As if he was a fawn and she didn't want to scare him away. He continued to stare at her like a retarded idiot.

She reached out her hand to him. "I am (y/n)," she said. (y/n).

He took in a breath to say something, but it caught in his throat. He didn't remember later how his hand had ended up in hers, but he knew that the most pathetic whimper crept from his throat that he had ever heard in his life.

He had had models in his bed. Women lay at his feet. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Okay. Maybe take a deep breath first," she smiled at him.

He gathered up the last of his pride. "You need to find someone else!", he said suddenly. Surprise was written all over her face. Her smile crumbled.

"You seem very nice.", he began.

"But you imagined something else. Sure.", she laughed sadly. "Already... Okay. Got it.", she smiled and looked everywhere but at his face. "I'll go-"

"No. I don't mean it like that!" he interrupted her immediately.

"I-" he sighed, "I come from a family full of scheming, selfish, self-absorbed assholes, and I," he pointed to his own chest, "am God knows the worst of them all." He looked deep into her eyes. "If I can do one thing for the person this fucking fate has assigned me, it's to save them from living in this nightmare. I'm a man-whore. I drink. Hell I wouldn't even be awake if my grandfather wouldn‘t cut off my allowance. I don't work. I'm a spoiled, distorted child and I have no will to change that. Find someone better."

She looked at him intensly, then shook her head. Ransom sighed.

"A coffee." she said then. He looked up.

"We don't have to - and I don't want to - get married right away, but let's at least have coffee," she explained herself. "After all, it's kind of my fault yours spilled."

Ransom turned bright red. He had hoped to appear cool in front of his soulmate, but he had fucked that up big time.

"There's a nice store around the corner," she said.

"They only have that disgusting filter coffee. Hell no." he blurted out.

She laughed. "You really are spoiled, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I'll show you a real store. While I still have money, at least I can throw it at you."

She laughed. "You got a bookworm here. You'll be poor in six months if you go through with this."

"My grandfather is reading at the store today. If you know anything about books, you know his name. I'll get you any book before it's even on the market.", he finally grinned confidently again.

She looked at him, puzzled. "I've reconsidered my opinion about marrying right away."

He grinned. "Coffee first. I want to be wooed.“

Change of plans

There was a change of plans. It's a holiday and actually it always goes like this, that my family meets sometime between 11 am and 1 pm o'clock.

This year they said we'd meet as usual, eat something, but keep it short because there were already so many parties coming up in the last few months.

It's at 1 pm. I go downstairs and I am told we won't meet until 4 pm. 

And what do I do? I cry uncontrollably. Forgive myself to my room and hope the crying stops soon.

I had my own little plans for the afternoon. Exercise after lunch. Then lay on the couch, watch my current Netflix series and crochet.

Both things that take time. In order to exercise I have to eat something first because I'm on the verge of starvation. Then I can't start right away because I'll get sick, but without it I'll eventually keel over.

After the workout I'm easier to get riled up than usual, which will only make the get-together more exhausting than it already is. Then you have to find that window of time where you can leave without being rude. Then I have to come back down first.

Means walking in circles and daydreaming until I'm relaxed. Which can take a good two hours.

Means goodbye hobby time, because tomorrow you have to get up at 5 again to go to work.

It may only be a small change, but for me it just ensures that my day that was supposed to be for relaxation has been taken away from me and is only causing stress again.

I'm tired and I'm crying about it. I crack my fingers non-stop and would love to throw everything around me. But I can't. That would be 'babyish' an 'over the top'. I would like to stay home entirely.

I am very tired and I am tired of my plans never being important enough to tell me beforehand that something is going to change.

Can I touch your hair?

Summary: Steven is curious about readers short hair.

Warnings: fluff, sleep deprived Tony Stark beeing Tony Stark

I was sitting in the common room of the avengers tower listening to my podcast, drinking my coffee. My dad Tony had only shuffled past me 5 minutes ago into his room to go to sleep. God only knows how long he had been awake again.

Steve had joined me, having already completed his usual exercise routine. He was sketching something in his pad while eating his breakfast.

He was watching me. As he had been doing on and off for the past few weeks, out of the corner of his eye. Probably thought he was being subtle.

"Can I ask you something?", I asked, stopping my podcast.

He nodded. "Why are you looking at me like that all the time?"

He faltered before shaking his head. "Nothing." he smiled politely and minimally pushed his sketchbook away from me.

"Oh come on. I'm a big girl. I can handle it," I teased. "What do I do to pique the interest of the great Captain America?"

He kneaded his hands. "Can I touch your hair?" he blurted out. Immediately he squinted his eyes and turned bright red. "Never mind. Sorry. That was...forget it," he stammered.

"My hair?", I laughed. "Why?"

He just continued to shake his head. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You don't ask things like that."

By now he resembled a ripe tomato. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the cutest thing I'd ever seen. "Deep breath big guy. You're very welcome, but I'd still like to know why." I leaned further toward him, resting my head on my fist.

He looked cautiously at me. "They're just so short... And I... Back in my days, women hardly ever had short hair. Not that short at least... And if they did, they were in movies, or in photos, but I never knew anyone... No woman with hair that short and...", he left the sentence unfinished.

"And you're just curious. That's okay," I smiled at him. "You asked me if you could touch my hair, not if you could touch my boobs." He seemed on the verge of collapsing at that comment. "Most people don't even ask. They just mop through it. So knock yourself out." I smiled encouragingly at him and patted his hand.

He lifted it hesitantly and gently stroked along my short bangs before reaching further up and pushing his fingertips through the short strands. "So soft." he smiled.

"You're lucky there's no gel in it.", I smiled. He slid his hand to the back of my head and then on to the trimmed out nape. Most people didn't treat me this tenderly. There was a seductive ease. There was awe in his touch and I surrendered to it. I closed my eyes with relish, enjoying the gentle caress of his fingers on my neck.

"Hey!" a shrill voice snapped us out of our little bubble. My dad was standing in front of us still with dark circles under his eyes, staring at us in bewilderment. "Film that soft porn in one of your rooms, will you!"

"Don't be so dramatic," I sighed.

Dad just shook his head. "That's my daughter! Don't you ever think about the bro-code man?" he shook his head in mock disappointment. "Don't you dare dishonor her. I want to see a ring on that finger! Got it?"

"Dad go to sleep.", I said firmly.

"I'm fine."

"Friday how long has he been up?", I asked.

"Sixty-eight hours miss." came the immediate reply.

"Go to bed!", I ordered.

"All right." he grumbled. "You're almost like Pepper.", he grumbled inarticulately into his beard on his way out.

I shook my head with a sigh. I looked at Steve, who was bright red again, and grinned. "And was I able to satisfy your curiosity?", I asked jokingly. He just nodded without looking at me and quickly took a sip of his coffee.

"Friday showed me the pictures you drew of me, by the way. They're really good."

He choked on his coffee, a small amount shooting through his nose.

I laughed. "How do you feel about dinner?"

Sirius: I want to wake up with you everyday for the rest of our lives.

Remus: I wake up at 4:30 AM.

Sirius:

Sirius: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.