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viltrumitesuperboy · 3 years

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Treat Them Right (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

Last second decision cause it’s Valentine’s Day. Also it’s short but that’s not my problem lmao

Requested by: @iliumheightnights Can you please write a peter parker x male reader where peter keeps getting distracted thinking of a date and the avengers think it's a girl so they give him all of these tips on how to "treat a lady right" but then his boyfriend shows up.

Word count: 1195

CW: mentions of reader as female

Any day Peter went to the tower, he was prepared for everything that could possibly go wrong. His table would explode, a supervillain would crash through the window, everything he worked on was deleted from his computer.

The worst one was when anyone he knew came to embarrass him in front of other people.

It was rarely a problem because he had little contact with other people when he was working. If he was going into another lab, he didn't worry so much that anything would go wrong because talking to other people kept him distracted from that worry. But someone embarrassing him in front of an Avenger? He might as well just die on the spot.

A week ago, his boyfriend had mentioned that it was going to be their one year anniversary since their first date. He was zoning out for parts of the day, both stressing over how he ever found someone so amazing and what he'd have to do to avoid disaster.

"Peter! Come here. I want you to meet someone."

He turned away from the scientists currently working on a project to see his mentor.

"Mr. Stark! Uh, I'm just finishing up here," he said.

"No worries. Come in, Bruce. No one's bite is worse than yours, I promise."

There was a quiet muttered complaint, and Peter turned back to the table to work on the hologram.

"Radiation is still dangerous, even as a source of energy. It might give the Hulk his powers, and probably Spider-Man — not that I would know, I've never met him. I mean, I could! Anyway, it doesn't mean it's not still dangerous. So keep that in mind when you're working with this stuff."

He made a vague hand gesture waving at the hologram that he definitely did not learn from Tony. Just as he started to head for the door, he was stopped by a voice.

"Hey, these are my papers! That's great. There's a section over here you might want to take a look at."

Peter then saw Bruce Banner swiping through a pdf that was on one of the holograms. He smiled up at Peter.

"Peter! I can't believe we haven't met yet. You're doing great work here," Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist and former refugee, said to Peter Parker, skinny nerd still in school.

"Uh. Thank... you..." Peter responded, a little starstruck.

Even after meeting Avengers personally, it was still a surprise to see them. The world made them seem untouchable, but Peter knew they weren't. Seeing any of them in person was like a fever dream.

"Kid, this is Bruce. Bruce, Pete. We have somewhere to go," Tony said suddenly.

"Oh, okay. Bye!" Peter managed to say before he was swept out of the room.

When they got in the elevator, Tony finally spoke.

"So, Peter! I heard something very important came up and you are gonna need to have a talking to."

"I'm gonna what?!" Peter squeaked.

Then he was in the sitting room. It was usually the most comfortable place on the tower's "Avengers" floors. Now it was the most terrifying situation he'd ever been in.

Every single Avenger (minus Tony) and friends were sitting in a semicircle around Peter. They all stared at him in silence. His eyes were wide open as he stared right back.

"Am I being inducted into a cult?" he whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You have an anniversary coming up," Natasha said from her standing position as she crossed her arms. "A year is very important, Peter."

"You need to plan this properly," Rhodes said.

"And if she's not happy with what you plan, expect us to be ten times as unhappy," Clint added.

Peter opened his mouth to correct him, but Steve cut him off.

"You know, I might have been born a while ago, but most important things you need to know are going to be from us. If you don't treat her right, she'd be the least of your worries," he said.

He glanced at Bucky, who was cracking his neck. His face said "murder." Peter shrunk in on himself.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" he asked.

"He's in a meeting," Natasha said.

"Okay," he meekly responded.

Thor shuffled in his comfortable seat on the sofa.

"My people treat their romantic partners as their equals. If one is too slow in courting a partner, their relatives will find it suspicious and will seek blood. But I'm sure that's not the case," the god said with a reassuring smile.

It was not reassuring.

"I don't want to inconvenience you or anything, but I don't know why I'm here. I thought I was just supposed to work on something with Tony," Bruce said.

"Banner," Natasha snapped. "Give him some advice and then you can leave."

"Uh, I don't know, flowers? Girls like that, right? Look, I'm busy. It was nice to meet you, Peter. I hope we get to work on something together."

He walked away. Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist, just told Peter that he wanted to work with him. For science stuff.

This was the best and worst day of his life.

"Okay, if you're going to a restaurant or anywhere that requires sitting at a table, you pull the chair out for her. And you make sure you check in, make sure she's comfortable," Sam said from his spot.

"You gotta make her feel like she's the only girl for you. And there's nothing better than personally bringing her somewhere that would mean a lot to the both of you," Bucky said.

"If your partner slaps you in the face, you think hard about what you did wrong," Thor absentmindedly mumbled, playing with some gadget he found on the coffee table.

"From what I've seen with Pepper and Tony, just don't be stupid. Be on time and make sure you do nice things for her," Rhodes said.

"I'd like to inform you that someone is coming up," FRIDAY chirped from the ceiling.

"Who?" Natasha snapped.

They all turned to see the private elevator open to reveal a boy. They readied their weapons, though Thor didn't seem too bothered. He swung the hammer around lazily.

"Uh... am I interrupting something?" you asked.

"Who are you? How did you get up here?" Rhodes demanded.

"I'm... here for Peter. Hey, you aren't, like, inducting him into a cult or anything, right?" you said.

"That's what I said!" Peter exclaimed.

He rushed away from the group into your arms, nearly toppling the both of you over. You held out a single flower, which he huffed and blushed at.

"Avengers, this is my boyfriend," Peter announced.

"That's unexpected," Steve said.

"I was saying 'partner' the whole time," Thor said. "None of you caught on."

"Are you ready, Peter? We've got somewhere to be," you said.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Peter automatically responded.

"Dude, if you do Spongebob in front of me one more time, I will take the flower."

"No!"

The elevator doors closed behind the both of you, leaving the Avengers to discuss the events themselves.

"I'm here," Tony said, entering the room with Pepper and Bruce. "Did I miss anything?"

#x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker imagine #male reader #male reader insert #request

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

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elevatorladylady · 3 years

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Series Analysis: The Folk of The Air

I went through this series a couple of times before setting it down and I wanted to break down some of the things that really worked with this series and what didn't.

The Pros

Morally Grey Characters

This series does a really good job of introducing a lot of morally grey characters. Madoc is a murderer and puts his daughter and eventual foster daughters through a huge trauma, but he is also the only kind of parent these kids have after that and more or less treats them with love and respect in the household.

This sets up some really interesting dynamics as well that just have to be complicated and weird for everyone. Vivi is the priority when Madoc comes to Jude’s parents, but she’s also the oldest and is least interested in following along with Madoc’s interests. Jude and Taryn end up being more interested in the life Madoc has forced them into and they have to grapple with the guilt of actually enjoying any parts of their life with him.

There is also always a bit of grey morality when the culture is more or less okay with cruel and murderous acts whether it’s used as a way to dispense justice or if it’s just because the people in power cannot be held accountable for their actions.

But despite this wonderfully nuanced set up, I have some complaints about the way a lot of these things get simplified.

Humans and the Folk

I really love that we get to explore the differences in the cultures and biological differences between these groups. The inability to lie presents a lot of interesting moments between Jude and Cardan that really show how that kind of difference can impact the words you choose and the ways people can use language to put on a front with or without lies.

The differences between the two worlds is a really interesting juxtaposition and I think it’s great to get to see our main characters navigate both spaces. The folk have an advantage in the human world and can more easily inhabit it than a human can inhabit the faerie world. We see how Jude has been hardened by her experiences and can’t easily just take up a normal human life.

Vivi and Heather are such a great dynamic to explore the power dynamic between humans and faeries. Vivi has good intentions with her human girlfriend but by ignoring the ways fae can and will harm humans, she inadvertently puts her human girlfriend in danger, and uses that power against her.

Jude and Cardan’s Character Arcs

I do have some complaints but I love the way these arcs unfold. Jude is a powerless girl and then she becomes as powerful as she possibly can when controlling cardan and has to grapple with the cost of having this power and how the power didn’t end up protecting her in the way she thought it could. She learns that at some point she cannot control everything in her life through sheer will and force, and that she is going to be more fulfilled and potentially safer by learning to put her trust in others.

Cardans arc is more about finding himself. He is not respected or appreciated by his family and friends unless he’s being awful, but we start to see change almost immediately when he’s removed from that. He can just be with the court of shadows and he can be more open and honest about his desires and motivations with Jude. As king he is once again forced into a role, but this time he gets to try on different variations of being king. He’s one of the spies with the court of shadows, he’s his old self with his friends minus the cruelty with his friends, he’s a king in front of his subjects, and he’s a more open and vulnerable version of himself with Jude. He’s still being forced into a lot of these roles, but this gives him a chance to find his footing and decide who he might want to be when Jude isn’t forcing him into things. And he ends up choosing to be a better person in those roles than before.

The Cons

Black and White Ending

Jude and Cardan are morally grey earlier on and we get a lot of Jude questioning her own decisions, but by giving the ending giving her ultimate power as king and queen and the narrative affirming this as good takes away the complex morality of these characters.

By the end they are considered benevolent leaders by the land and the people, and Madoc and those that followed him are bad people who deserve punishment. Jude gets to hand out punishments as she see fits without anyone but Cardan being able to check her (and we know he probably won’t). Jude is even encouraged to treat everyone as if they are beneath her. These two have ultimate power and they will likely be harmful to some of their people regardless of their efforts otherwise and even more so if they aren’t proactive about how they lead.

The book ends with a toast to schemes, but they aren’t scheming anymore. They are fully embracing their public facing roles and enjoying their personal roles. While Oak is still technically supposed to take the throne there is zero indication throughout that he wants it and they are also clear that they won’t force him into it, so it no longer even feels like a temporary thing for Jude and Cardan to rule.

I would have preferred an ending where we see Jude map out a new ultimate scheme to dismantle the monarchy or distribute power to lower courts or something more radical to show that shes not just going to be another person with unchecked power.

It also squarely puts Madoc as bad and everyone on his side as bad with the punishments Jude hands out. Madoc is the main antagonist here, but is Jude really better than all of the people that were willing to follow Madoc? Do those people deserve to have their hands stained or live as birds when Jude will be shown deference by every person in their kingdom. Jude made a play for the crown too, and the only reason she doesn’t get punished is because she was successful. And then we’re supposed to joke about the idea of Madoc’s punishment in the human world and he’s just reduced to the blundering bigot in the family that you just accept as such.

And Vivi’s dynamic with Heather also gets simplified to just caring about the betrayal of the glamour instead of the ongoing dynamic that Vivi has to be an advocate for Heather in the faerie world and she has to always be mindful of the power dynamic.

The final scene really just feels like the end of a rom com even though these dynamics have really serious and troubling elements.

Taryn’s Redemption

This dynamic also suffers from the shift to a black and white but it starts even earlier. Taryn’s betrayal with Locke is horrendous. It’s so personal and it cuts really deep compared to the political betrayal with Madoc.

I don’t believe the level of acceptance and forgiveness Jude gives Taryn at nearly every step. Her initial interest into wanting some kind of relationship once she becomes hand of the king is understandable, but it quickly turns into Jude doing quite a lot to preserve Taryn’s feelings. Jude wants Cardan to keep Locke in check, Jude doesn’t want to bother Taryn before her wedding with her almost murder, she doesn’t want her to know her husband tried to kill her, and she threatens Locke to keep him in line multiple times. It just doesn’t make sense that she would care so much to protect Taryn’s feelings from the guy that she chose over Jude especially when Taryn’s only kindness to Jude is designing great clothes for her.

All of this sets up even more problems for how things go in the final book. If Taryn’s only betrayal had been the political one, I could see Jude getting past it, but she does it when hasn’t even remotely atoned for the deeply personal one. Jude is rightfully angry but forgives her almost immediately when she learns about the baby. Jude has maybe one line about whether or not she can trust her sister again but her actions suggest she’s completely over it and eager to have a nice sisterly dynamic.

This could have been a really interesting dynamic about dealing with someone you love but can’t trust. It could have been more interesting if Jude had actually killed Locke when he came after her and Jude had to grapple with the guilt despite him being awful. Or even Taryn realizing her mistake earlier and pleading for Jude’s help to get out of it.

And Locke also just becomes a full on villain. Maybe you need that, but he was more interesting when he seemed to have a boundary with the physical violence.

#book analysis #fantasy #ya fantasy #the folk of the air #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota critical

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

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Tbh, I believe some of the reaction to Steve’s ending is an overreaction and, mostly, nothing to do with Steve or the point they are defending. I want to stress that I am saying some before people mistake that as well. And if you disagree, that’s fine.

1. In MY experience, because I’m not going to pretend ive read most takes on Endgame or read every crevice, people only talk about the timeline being ruined when it came to what Steve did and NOT how other timelines were meddled with. Someone could argue that Steve intentionally meddled, but according to the rules of time travel, intentionality doesn’t matter.

Who knows the unforeseen consequences behind knocking out Tony’s reactor. Who knows what happens with old cap after encountering endgame cap and not only fighting him, but hearing the name “Bucky?” Who knows the consequences of thanos and quo being transported 9 years into the future. Or what about the lady that spots Steve and Tony? And how Tony conversed with his dad.

We’re told or it’s implied that any interference can have devastating consequences, yet only Steve’s last decision is obsessively discussed.

2. Peggy’s agency allegedly being undermined. Sure, people could argue by the sheer virtue of going back in time and talking to her he’s undermined her agency, but we don’t even know how their original discussion went. We do not know what went down and people are robbing Peggy of her agency by essentially stating that Peggy had no choice in the matter.

Are we forgetting how intelligent Peggy is? That Peggy potentially asked Steve how was any of “this” even possible and the implication of his actions. And if it come off as condescending or patronizing, I apologize, but imho, it appears that some people, generally speaking, believe that because they dislike something that’s the same as it being bad. Other than, they just dislike what was given to us.

But, how does this undermine Peggy’s arc or rob her of her agency? How? I think some people want it to mean that her arc was undermined to prove Steve shouldn’t have went back to the past. And do people actually care about Peggy’s unnamed husband whose face we never see? Do they really care about her kids?

3. Bucky. People often cite the end of the line remark, but honestly, I think that’s being seen through a shipper lens. Steve and Bucky will clearly fight for each other to make sure the other is safe when they’re in present danger and will advocate for each other if necessary, but they’ve never been joined at the hip.

These are two people who are close who not only regularly acted independent of each other pre serum, was fine going long stretches without being around each other. I’m not even sure if they wrote each other letters. But, they most defintely love and care for each other.

So, pre serum Steve and Bucky are close, but aren’t around each other all of the time. They are fine going long stretches of time without communicating. And, even when reunited after Steve stormed the base solo, they still largely do their own thing. But, even back then, they’d die for each other.

When we get to winter soldier, Bucky’s death was still fresh for Steve. It’s only been a “few” years for him. He still feel responsible for not being able to save Bucky. But, not only that, Bucky was experimented on, was brainwashed, and a POW of Hydra’s—not only is Steve going to take that personally, he wasn’t going to give up on hydra even if it killed him.

Post destroying the helicarriers, Steve wants to look for Bucky after the film concludes to make sure Bucky is safe and has everything he needs.

In civil war, Steve’s mission goes from checking in on buckys well being to making sure Bucky isn’t murdered for something he was forced to do. When Bucky was originally arrested unharmed, Steve was fine. He’s not obsessing over Bucky. Then, when Bucky is brainwashed again, Steve refuses to leave Bucky to his own devices.

After civil war, Steve drops Bucky off in Wakanda and doesn’t think twice about it. Bucky is safe and has the proper resources to heal. They spend two more years apart; they largely haven’t spent any significant time together since Bucky regained his memory. Steve might have called Bucky via T’Challa.

And, just to be clear, I’m not arguing against stucky, it’s not my ship, but people can ship whatever they like, it’s the fact that we’re consistently shown that Steve and Bucky aren’t dependent on each other. That their lives and decisions do not revolve around one another. The idea that Bucky needs Steve or that Steve is abandoning Bucky is absurd.

4. Steve’s ending being a regression. People argue that Steve’s storyline is about moving on all while overlooking the fact that he consistently struggled with doing it.

In winter soldier, nat tries to get him to go on dates and Steve points out that is hard because the lack of shared experience. He clings to both Peggy and Bucky in different ways. They are both living, breathing pieces of his past that he was “taken” from.

Instead of having Sharon kiss him and this go no where (because it was poorly developed), they should’ve had Steve reflect on what Peggy’s death mean to him personally and moving on with his life. I guess her death and the kiss was supposed to signify that, but we don’t actually explore the character. We don’t allow him to sit with it. These things are done to shortcut the storytelling without actually exploring it in the world. But, Steve doesn’t talk about moving or and none of his actions support this in the overall story. Again, what we do see is for the benefit of the viewer and not Steve.

But, the biggest thing is: why do people conveniently ignore that what happened in infinity wars could lead to a huge regression? People talk about how Steve was “moving on”, but ignore the five year hell of post snap and him admitting that they “the avengers” couldn’t move on. That their failure would leak into other parts of his life as well and make him reconsider things?

5. Found family. It’s quite clear that the avengers, most of them, largely do not hang out together. They aren’t around each other unless they’re saving the world. Steve did not abandon his family or the avengers. They got along, but they all lived their own lives. And, it’s quite self centered to think you can’t ever leave a group because they can’t function without you. There were more avengers apart of the team then when Steve originally joined, some are powerful than he is and others have shown that they are just as capable leaders as he was or can grow into the role like he did.

But, the idea that Steve “abandoned” the avengers when they needed him most is absurd. His job was to prevent and protect NOT rebuild society. In infinity wars, he fathered the avengers. When the snap happened, he stayed and fought whatever threats popped up, but also ran a support group. Steve stuck through the worst of it. Steve didn’t give up on anyone despite being mentally exhausted. He unselfishly supported humanity as much as he could during that time.

Most of these criticisms ignore that Steve was always sacrificing and living for others. He was always a soldier first. And part of the reason he was so dedicated was because he couldn’t move on.

Many of these criticisms are so spiteful and most of them aren’t even because these fans care about Steve. They care about a found family that doesn’t exist. They care about a ship or ships that are now sunk. Some are upset that Steve lived and Tony died. But, many of them aren’t actually about Steve.

Nat doesn’t get shit for being willing to run away to be with Bruce in age of ultron. Tony doesn’t get shit for abandoning the avengers for five years because they “didn’t listen to him.” Others are allowed to make selfish decisions and put themselves first, but when Steve does it “what about found family??? What about the avengers???”

Almost everyone gets to live their lives MINUS Steve. Clint retired. Tony considered retiring before civil war. Like, minus going to the past and staying there, almost every criticism thrown at Steve can be found in another avenger who received little to no criticism in comparison.

Lastly, I’d also argue that Steve’s selfishness IS a sign of growth. People are allowed to be selfish at times. People are allowed to put themselves first.

At the time, it was important for Steve to move on because he couldn’t change the past. He had to live in the here and now.

But, then an opportunity was presented to him.

“I can go back.”

Steve living in the present was coping. He barely lived his life for himself.

People don’t have to like the ending and the time travel stuff doesn’t make sense from any perspective, but most of these angry takes aren’t about Steve at all.

#pro captain america #pro steve rogers #steve rogers defence club #Steve rogers

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Silver Tongue and Silver Hand

Content warning for: major character injury, loss of limb, lots of blood.

It wasn’t all that unusual for Geralt and Jaskier to part ways for a little while at times. Which was why it never occurred to Geralt that something might have been wrong when his path was silent for a few weeks. Yennefer had been there though, keeping him company with her own brand of social scorn. They were at a tavern, Geralt trying to pin down the person who put out the call for the contract while Yennefer got to wander through the town.

How the group got the drop on her was still beyond logic. One moment she was admiring some cloth that would make for a gorgeous, sleek dress and the next moment she was waking up cuffed, her magic suppressed and with a throbbing headache.

“They got you too, huh?” A familiar voice pulled her violently back into consciousness.

“Jaskier!”

“The one and only.” Jaskier really sounded far too cheery for someone who was also chained up. At least he looked whole with only the softest hint of bruising in faded yellows on his temple.

There wasn’t much they could do, Yennefer’s powers were bound, both of them were chained and without a hope of getting out. All they could do is talk, not even quietly at that given the distance they were from each other.

“Geralt will come, don’t worry.” Yennefer tried to reassure their bard but it only earned her a mildly worried “oh I hope not”. Which was never something she wanted to hear. While Jaskier didn’t know the ins and outs of it, he’d picked up enough to know that their captors were planning some kind of ritual and choice was involved.

Unfortunately, it was something Yennefer had heard about. A potion to boost luck which meant that while life couldn’t be taken for it, a sacrifice had to be made by an external party. And the harder the choice, the more sacrificed, the more powerful the potion. With Yennefer and Jaskier there, it could only mean one thing. Geralt was going to have to choose.

Sure enough, not long later they were being dragged to a cavern. In the middle was a cauldron, slowly bubbling away and there was a wooden block on either side. Their captors wrestled them into position, Jaskier’s left arm was forced onto one block, hand dangling over the gently steaming cauldron. Opposite him, Yennefer’s right arm was pushed into the same position. Not a few minutes later, Geralt marched through the door, looking murderous. His swords were dripping blood and he was breathing harshly as he took in the scene before them.

“Geralt! I am so glad you could join us,” the leader of the group crooned. “As you can see, we have a game set up here.”

A gesture to the cauldron and a smile. Both Jaskier and Yennefer were pinned, a blade to their throats. And a good with an axe to their sides, poised and ready to make the cut.

“It’s a simple choice. One of your companions will walk out of here unscathed. The other, well, they’ll be leaving minus a hand. So what will it be? No more spells? Or no more songs?”

Everyone waited, all eyes on Geralt as his gaze flickered between Yennefer and Jaskier. It was the moment Jaskier remembered what the sorceress had said, the spell needed a sacrifice. Without it, it was ruined. And any ingredient could upset it, it was a fussy potion and one that required more work than it was worth.

“I don’t-” Geralt licked his lips nervously.

“Choose!” Their captor demanded. But it was obvious Geralt was stuck, unable to decide, to condemn either of his companions.

The lull from the lack of choice meant their captors weren’t as attentive, focus on Geralt. That was broken when Jaskier twisted, right hand reaching for the axe and, without hesitation, he swung it through the air and onto his own arm. His scream was lost in the yells as his hand fell into the cauldron and the whole room descended into chaos.

Prioritising was difficult, Geralt couldn’t get to Jaskier without his opponents getting in the way. And Yennefer was helpless too, cuffed as she was. It was only years of practice that meant he could fight his way through those throwing themselves at his sword to free Yennefer. For good measure, Geralt sent the cauldron and its contents flying, strewn over the floor and utterly useless. Together, they whipped through the room, killing all until they were by Jaskier’s side. The bard was curled up, his bleeding arm clutched to his chest and tears of agony streamed down his cheeks.

“Let me see,” Yennefer urged and tugged at the injured limb despite Jaskier’s pained protests. A curse left her lips.

It was the matter of seconds to open up a portal and Geralt was hefting Jaskier into his arms as though he weighed nothing. Stepping through, they were in a mansion, Yennefer’s home without a doubt.

“Put him on the bed,” she pointed Geralt in the right direction. She was already off and gathering her supplies. First things first,something to dull the pain before cleaning the wound to stop infection taking hold.

Blood and tear streaked, Jaskier looked up at them and swallowed the potions Yennefer pushed towards him. The burning agony died down into a dull throb and finally, he could think.

“Why did you do it?” Geralt demanded, trying to keep his attention way from where Yennefer worked.

“It was the only way. Ruined their potion, you didn’t have to choose. It was the logical option.” He whimpered and tried to pull his arm from where Yennefer poured something over it that burned to his core. A ‘tsk’ and an iron grip kept him in place. “You need her spells more than my songs. And-” Jaskier looked away, ashamed, “-her beauty had more value. Her looks have more of an impact than mine ever could.”

Two sets of eyes regarded Jaskier in silent disbelief. Sadness filled Geralt’s eyes while Yennefer tried to tamp down on her emotions. The dumb bard actually cared for her. Idiot. Words weren’t going to be enough this time, this wasn’t a debt she could clear with a few sharp words hiding some kindness or help.

Silently, she finished doing what she could for Jaskier. Ensured that his wound would heal cleanly, as pain free as possible. All through it, Geralt held Jaskier’s remaining hand.

Healing took a lot of energy, and Yennefer may have slipped something in Jaskier’s medicine to help him sleep. She needed to talk to Geralt without him overhearing.

“I can’t grow a hand back, no matter how much I want to.” She told him and was met with a soft, resigned ‘I know’. “He’s never going to play again.”

That time, the ‘I know’ held more pain. Geralt was slumped forward in his seat, shoulders hunched.

“He knew it. Before he cut his own hand off. I saw his face.” And she wished she hadn’t, the realisation, the determination, the agony. Yennefer had seen it all and it was going to haunt her for a long long time.

“Who would you have chosen to save?”

The guilty look that flashed over Geralt’s face told her everything she needed to know. Jaskier never really stood a chance in the face of such a choice. He knew it too, that was what the realisation had been. It didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at both Yennefer and Geralt.

“He’s lost his livelihood,” Yennefer finally said, knowing they needed to lay out all the facts. “He won’t be able to follow you around and earn his keep, and he’s even more helpless, defenceless like this. And nobody will want to take him in without a way for him to pay.”

It was the truth but damn did the truth hurt. Geralt gritted his teeth, trying to find a loophole, a way to ensure Jaskier had a future that was comfortable and safe. He couldn’t even teach at Oxenfurt when he couldn’t play his beloved lute.

“Fuck.”

They sat in silence, not looking at each other, ears attuned to the soft breaths of their bard in the other room. Without saying anything, both Geralt and Yennefer made a vow to try and do everything in their power to help Jaskier.

Healing took a while. There was a false cheer around Jaskier as he tried to make light of his situation. Once, Geralt even caught him with his lute, held the wrong way round, trying to learn how to place the fingers of his right hand for chords. In the end, the lute was carefully laid down next to Jaskier and a shaking hand stroked over it.

By the times soft, pink skin covered the end of Jaskier’s arm, his smiles were brittle, breath hitching around the forced jovial attitude. Magic had eased his healing, left him free of gnarly scarring but it didn’t help the fact that Jaskier still only had one hand.

“Right, well,” he looked at Yennefer who stood by the door expectantly. “Thank you for everything but I suppose I really ought to get out of your hair.”

Where he was going to go was beyond Yennefer and Geralt. They hadn’t asked because they suspected Jaskier had no idea, but they could afford him the dignity of not ripping open his facade. Even as Jaskier refused steadfastly to stay, citing adventure calling him. All three of them knew he had no way of repaying care he had received and each day was another he couldn’t afford.

“Come with me,” Yennefer said, not accepting refusal. When Geralt moved to join them, she fixed him with a glare. “You stay.”

She led Jaskier through a portal and Geralt was left alone in the home. He thought it was especially cruel that Yennefer had Jaskier’s lute on her back. There was no telling when she would come back and where she was dumping Jaskier. It was almost better to not know because Geralt would have gone after him, with the noble notion of rescuing him, even though he knew full well that his lifestyle was not one that could keep a one handed bard alive for long.

A portal opened on the other side of the room and Yennefer strode through, accompanied by the soft sounds of a lute being strummed. And Jaskier’s laugh. He stepped through after her, playing with the world’s widest, teariest smile Geralt had ever seen. Where his hand had been missing was a silver replica, dancing over the neck of the lute.

“Geralt!” Jaskier beamed and waved his new hand. It reeked of magic, freshly wrought and powerful. Yennefer only looked a little smug.

“You sure you don’t want a glove?” Yennefer asked, offering the garment up to Jaskier.

“Who plays lute in a glove?” Jaskier shook his head. “This is now my signature look. Silver tongue and silver hand. Oh the ballads I’m going to write!”

It seemed that their worries were over. All debts paid off in one fashion or another. The guilt still lingered but Jaskier’s smiles were genuine now, easing the tightness in Geralt’s chest. Though he hadn’t had to make the choice, he still had to live with the consequences, as did Jaskier. But at least, now, they wouldn’t have to separate as a result of it all.

#geraskier #gennkier #geralt/yennefer/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher #who knows what the OT3's tag is?#i have no clue #long post #tldr: jaskier makes a sacrificial play #cw: blood and injuries #cw: major character injury #cw: loss of limb #cw: blood

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thatkidwhodreams · 4 years

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Spidey Uno, Spidey Dos

After a long while I finally decided to post this because it’s my birthday (October 15). This fic is inspired by this picture I found in my camera roll from 2018 (it’s not mine btw). I might make this into a series and call it Shawter Shorts because that’s their ship name.

Peter Parker, Shawn Mendes.

Yes, you heard right. There were two spideys in town.

You were best friends with both of them but one was the one you were dating, that was the gossip. Which one? None. Many people assumed there was some sort of polygamy going on because you were so close with the both of them.

If only they knew.

THAT YOU WERE NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH EITHER OF THEM.

Peter Parker, the one who you constantly told looked like Tom Holland. Of course, every time he’d say “no I don’t, I don’t even l know who that is. I’m my own dude, born and raised in Queens. Now I bet you Tom Holland isn’t from Queens.” You'd laugh and shake your head.

Shawn Mendes, that dude could sing. Of course singing isn’t a necessity when you’re part of the Avengers but it was his special talent. One which no one else in that squad had and you loved him for it.

Of course there was that one time when Peter and Shawn were supposed to help guard the entrance so that the rest of the team could rescue you from your captors and all Shawn did was sing which nearly blew the whole thing off and got you killed. But it was all good. You didn’t die, Shawn nearly got murdered by the team but it was fine.

It was a habit of Shawn’s to sing wherever and whenever he could. Let’s do the math, Shawn’s singing + Peter’s constant talking = mission set to fail. You loved both your best friends, you guys were the youngest of the avengers so you got along so well. But Shawn and Peter (aka Shawter) together is not the ideal combo.

Of course they didn’t care and they loved hanging out with each other (minus the death threats every five seconds) so who were you to stop that?

You were currently at a cafe with the whole team and not surprisingly, the three of you took seats next to each other. You were on one end, Shawn was on the other and Peter was in the middle. The rest of the team were close but spread out a little. Peter was discussing to the both of you how he got a bad grade because of Ned and all you and Shawn could do was laugh.

“Of course Peter, blame Ned as the reason why you failed. You should have been studying rather than playing cops and robbers on your own.” Shawn said.

Peter turned to him and put his hand over his mouth. “Shut up, you don’t want the grown ups to hear do you? Mr Stark will totally beat my ass.” You rolled your eyes at that. Peter had always been one for the over exaggeration and you were never afraid to tell his over dramatic ass to keep it to a minimum. That’s just how you guys were.

Shawn continued to laugh at his friend. “I am all for it. Seeing Peter get his ass whooped by Tony will be a real sight.” Shawn’s chest heaved up and down which caught Tony’s attention.

“Who’s getting their ass whooped by me Shawn?”

“No one Mr Stark, absolutely no one failed an exam and got a bad grade and may be getting scolded by you for playing around instead of studying.” Peter said frantically, avoiding eye contact with Tony.

You had to back the poor boy, he looked like he was going to piss his pants. You nodded and agreed with Peter. “Yes Uncle Stark, listen to every word Peter says. He is totally not lying.” Tony looked at the three of you, squinted his eyes at you alone to show his annoyance and then turned back to continue his conversation with Steve and Bucky. Of course Tony wasn’t actually your uncle, you just loved calling him that to push a few of his buttons.

“Phew that was close.” Shawn started singing one of his original songs and the one he was singing happened to be called “stitches” and the “I’ll be needing stitches” part definitely left Peter a little shaken up and fearing for his life if his secret came out.

Once everyone had gotten their food and spent the billionaire’s cash you all got up and left. You didn’t get to spend time with the group as a whole because at least one of them would be too occupied with something else so this was nice. You all made your way back to the tower and you heard Shawn and Peter bickering again. You shook your head again and did everything possible to ignore them.

When they were finally not together you finally had some peace and quiet. You knew Peter was in a room with Steve and you wanted to hear what they were talking about as you were quite the eavesdropper and what you heard shocked you.

“I really like her man. It’s been growing in the past few years and I might be in love with her.”

Peter was in love with someone? Never in a million years would you have thought Peter would fall in love but here you were.

You knew that Peter liked someone and now the question was who?

Permanent taglist: @musicalkeys

I hoped you liked it! Remember feedback is always appreciated!❤️

#Peter Parker #peter parker x reader #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #Shawn Mendes x reader #avengers x reader #Tom Holland imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes imagine #shawn mendes #peter parker x y/n #Peter Parker imagine #avengers fluff #Peter Parker fluff #Shane Mendes fluff #shawter shorts

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Erik walking in on the reader masturbating and she tries to cover herself with embarrassment

Bruce "Viper" Holmes. A notorious mobster and drug lord in Miami since the late 1980s. He had three older sons but one of them disowned his father and moved away to private property in the Virgin Islands with his wife and the other two were murdered. He has a daughter too, around 23 years old, a recent college graduate and her father's soft spot. She's a flower in the barrel of a gun. Calm his raging murderous storm. Bruce has her on a 24/7 watch with constant bodyguards. She really wanted to live on her own but they both knew that if she did, someone out there would try and kill her to get revenge for losing a loved one of their own because of Bruce. Then there is Killmonger. Bruce's personal hitman. He's been working with Bruce for years, a trusted partner who got the job done. Erik came and went whenever he had to pay a visit to Bruce. There was a new job that would earn him 1.8 million so Erik wasn't about to let that go. He showed up, dressed in all black and earning many scowls from Bruce's men. Erik could take out that entire room if he wanted to but Bruce paid him so well. Before he could step into his office, a girl opens the door, standing before Erik wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts, a fitted white crop top and her curly fro pulled up into a neat top knot bun. Erik took a cautious step back, fully admiring the girl from head to toe. Sexy as a motherfucker for sure. A little young but not too young.

"You must be Killmonger," She says with no regard. “How do you know who the fuck I am?”

“My father was saying something about you looking after me since my favorite bodyguard got shot and killed a week back. He told me to pick and I chose you.”

This didn’t sound like it involved earning 1.8 million dollars. This was a damn babysitting job. She was a grown-ass woman, not a kindergartner.

“Is he in there?” Erik didn’t care that he sounded irritated. He came to put a few bullets in somebody not play house.

“Yeah, he’s smoking his cigars,” His daughter looked at Erik very closely, an attitude on her face. Erik wanted to grab her little ass up and fix that face for her but this was his boss's daughter. He swallowed his pride, for now, giving her one final look before stepping into her father's office.

Sure enough, the 1.8 million was for watching over Y/N for him while he left town for 48 hours. Bruce told him that he only trusted Erik to get the job done because he knew Erik could hold his own and do what he’s supposed to do better than his other men. Everything Bruce said was true but Erik could be earning his money in a more meaningful way. And by meaningful that means killing. But, Y/N’s safety is important and Erik wouldn’t be able to live with her death on his conscious. Bruce left that very night leaving Erik in his Miami estate alone minus the two guards who kept watch from the outside of the house.

Erik made himself comfortable in a guest bedroom, staring angrily at his weapon bag that would not be put to use. A knock came to his room door, Erik getting up to open it. Y/N was the source of the knock. She had on a tight and short strapless body con dress colored baby blue with some rather scandalous heels on her feet and hair out in a cute curly fro. She was looking...real good. She had those titties all out, curves on display for any hungry nigga to hound her. Shit didn't make no sense how sexy Bruce's daughter was. Last time Erik had been with a woman was over three months ago

"I wanna go out." "Girl, I'm not taking your ass nowhere. Bruce said to keep you home since shit is popping off." She kissed her teeth, "So you mean to tell me, I got all dressed up for nothing?" Erik shrugs, "Ain't my problem, ma. I'm not tryna play hero and keep you safe in the middle of a shoot out. I need you as far away from that shit as possible." She was really pissed off with Erik. Her pretty round face was all scrunched up, arms folded and a pout on her lips. "I really thought you would be the chill one out of all my dad's old ass bodyguards but nope you're the same. Just as boring and annoying." She had a lot of mouth on her. Erik narrows his eyes at her, nostrils flared and lips set in a hard line. Y/N stepped off a bit, swallowing spit. "You better watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I fuck it." Y/N's jaw was on the floor. She was stunned. Y/N could not believe that Erik just said that to her. He couldn't believe it either but it was in Erik's character to say some shit like that to mouthy little bitches. He had a habit of degrading them by fucking their mouths until they gagged. Bruce's daughter may have an attitude but she wasn't used to that kind of treatment, Erik could tell. She probably got a tight as fuck pussy on her too, fuck that shit and feel like you're in some virgin pussy again.

Holy Shit. He was thinking about her pussy. These 48 hours are going to be hard.

"Is this how you talk to all the women you sleep with?" She was curious, leaning in closer to him. She had no respect for Erik's space now. "Don't worry about it. Just go back to your room, take this shit off, and relax, ma. You ain't going nowhere." "Wow," she rolls her eyes, "Remind me to never recommend you to be my new bodyguard again." "You're loss," he gave her a teasing smile. She glared at him, marching away from his door and back to her room. Erik couldn't help but stare at the bounce of her hips. She was very sexy and Bruce wasn't around to reprimand him for checking out his precious daughter.

Back in her room, making sure to slam the double doors shut and kick it for good measure, Y/N marched over to her bed like the brat she is, flopping down on the plush mattress covered in velvet bedding. Her phone was going off the hook too. Her girls were probably wondering where the fuck she was since she told them her bodyguard would be taking her out. Oh well, those plans were over. "Bitch ass, nigga," she complained to herself. Y/N was hoping to get some dick tonight too. An old college friend of hers that her father didn't really approve of but Y/N wanted a piece of was gonna be at that party. Ever since she graduated she hadn't had any dick. That was over a year ago. Her father was really strict with everything she did. Y/N appreciated it because she didn't want to end up like her brothers but at the same time, she wanted freedom. That's why she chose Killmonger. He was younger than her father's other henchmen, Wild from the talks she heard about him when she was being nosy, and he was sexy as fuck. She really thought about flashing him her titties to change his mind but he looked like a no-nonsense type so Y/N didn't try and taunt him. Although, he did taunt her.

Watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I fuck it.

Something stirred within her. The inner freak that had been locked away for so damn long. So he washed bitches mouths out with the dick? Disrespectful bitches got a dick in their mouths, huh? She liked that. She liked that a lot. He was so large compared to her. Definitely a Daddy for sure. Y/N would call Killmonger Daddy while he fucked her tight pussy. She just knew he had a big dick. None of the condoms she had would fit him. He'd have to pull out when he was about to cum.

If the condoms can't fit him, will his dick fit in me?

She couldn't help but let that thought cross her mind. Look at Y/N, thinking about fucking her dad's hitman. He was a murderer. Any other chick would be scared but Y/N... she wasn't a scaredy-cat at all. She'd be a big girl and fuck Killmonger. Killer and all. She wanted to see his guns...big guns plus a big dick would surely have Y/N on her knees or giving up the pussy.

"Fuck, I can't believe myself." She laughs, running her fingers over her heated flesh. Lord, she was horny now and ready to cum. Y/N lifts her dress up, body arched over the edge of the bed. She picks up a mirror from her side table that she used earlier to check her makeup, aiming it at her pussy from the back. She takes her other hand, pulling her panties down to see just how much of a mess she created from thinking about Killmonger. Sure enough, when she used her thumb to pull her panties to the side, a long string of nectar was connected to her panties from her phat pussy lips. She took in a sharp breath before releasing it longingly. Her pussy was so damn phat and wet right now thinking about him. "Killmonger, look what you did to me," she was so fucking horny. Y/N takes her fingers, pulling her lips apart, watching all that pink she has pop out and contrast beautifully against the brown of her outer lips. She tweaked her clit, a shiver running down her spine. Y/N starts popping her ass, watching all that slimy wet connect like her own personal glue to her pussy lips and her fingers. She'd never been this damn wet in her life. "Fuck," she moans, lifting up onto her knees to remove her dress. Fuck this shit, she needed to play with herself. Fully naked, Y/N gets off the bed, practically skipping over to her walk-in closet to retrieve her favorite pink dildo. This called for a squirt or two...maybe three. Just the thought of him being in a room down the hall probably wearing nothing right now or cleaning his guns made her shudder. She found her baby, kissing it before walking back to her bed. She grabbed her MacBook, a porn tab already up from the last video she watched. Y/N liked to watch black women masturbate, making themselves cream and squirt. She needed a video of a woman with a whole lot of ass getting drilled from behind this time around. She found her favorite, noticing the butt plug that the woman had and wishing she had one too. She likes anal.

Erik was freshly showered and dressed in a pair of black linen lounge pants that rested low on his hips. He did a lazy towel job on his body, water still dripping down the middle of his spine and on his chest. He was doing exactly what Y/N guessed; cleaning his guns. His favorite gun; a personalized Smith & Wesson. He still had a little blood around the barrel from his last job back in Germany. Unable to help himself, Erik kept thinking about Y/N and how he deprived her of going out. She was definitely grown and here he was making decisions for her like she was his daughter. He really didn't need the girl to go complaining to her father about Erik, making some shit up to mess up his money flow. Tossing his gun down, Erik looked up at himself in the mirror, his mind in a turmoil. With a risky decision, he decided to leave and go talk to the girl. Hopefully, turn the conversation around so that she could see his point of view. He left his room, walking within the dark hall of the estate to what he guessed was Y/N's room. It wasn't hard to find, her room was the only room with a glow of light coming from it. His footsteps were silent against the plush carpet as he finally stood face to face with the double doors to her bedroom suite. Erik places his fist into the open palm of his other hand, shifting on his bare feet to gather himself before knocking. Before he could, a wail came from her room. He froze, straining his ears to hear the sound again. Sure enough, the sound came back again, only this time, louder. Shit, if he was in his room, he'd probably hear it. Throwing caution to the wind, Erik grabs both handles, opening the door to see if she was okay. After all, he was ordered to protect her. The second he entered that room he wished he hadn't. Maybe he was lying to himself but the sheer embarrassment on Y/N's face made him feel guilty and ready to run from the estate altogether. Facedown, ass up, Y/N was thrusting a dildo into her pussy from the back while rubbing her clit. She was moaning and crying from how good her pussy felt before Erik disrupted her playtime. Her MacBook was opened, a compilation video of ebony women squirting and cumming all over the place. The cum loads from these women alone were massive and it stole Erik's attention for sure. He would buss a nut to the shit too. He even heard Killmonger roll off her tongue before she noticed him. Y/N's body rolled off of the bed, charging towards Erik with wide eyes before shoving his heavy body out of her room, slamming her doors shut. The sound echoed down the hall. Erik stood there, staring at those damn doors with shock. His mouth was hanging open, mind unable to unsee what he just saw. Erik heard silence now on the other side of the door, his hand coming up to knock softly. "Y/N, you decent now?" He asked. "Go awayyyyyyy Killmonger!" She sounded like she was crying. Damn, he embarrassed the hell out of her for opening those doors. "Don't you know how to fucking knock?!" "Yeah, I just thought some shit was happening to you...not...this..." "Wow," she was sniffling, "something was about to happen to me until you showed up!" She groaned loudly, probably yanking her hair too. "This is definitely not happening to me right now." Erik wanted to comfort her, reassure her that he was absolutely sorry for barging into her private moment like that. He wanted to say that to her but the slyness inside of him was happy he saw what he saw. She was a little freak. Cumming to other bitches cumming. He wanted to know what else she watched. If only she wasn't embarrassed and asked him to come and join her he would find out for himself while his dick was deep in that pussy. Speaking of pussy she had a nice phat wet puss. Her pussy creamed all over that neon pink dildo that she was thrusting in and out of that twat. He turned his back on the door, struggling if he should stay or go. Fuck, he really wanted to stay and finish what he messed up. He'd give anything to see that little pussy cum. His dick was bobbing up and down in his linen pants. Erik looked down at his crotch within the darkness, lips all poked out and eyes low while he stared at his dick twitching and knocking against the crotch of his pants. That monster wanted to be freed. He placed his face against the door, talking into the crack of the door so she could hear him clearly. "Y/N, please open up, I'm sorry, ma." He tried to sound as sincere as possible to get her to open those doors. His dick was even pressing into the door. The hard surface was the perfect amount of texture on his dick right now. "Erik lets out a soft sigh, "please?" "For what? So you can laugh at me? I don't think so. Go back to your room, asshole." "I said I didn't mean to, how many times do you want me to tell you I'm sorry?!" He was growing angry. His dick was too. He was hard as steel now. "Fuck your sorry. I am so fucking embarrassed right now." "Just open the goddamn door, shit." His begging finally worked. She flung her doors opened, body wrapped in a robe now and hair pulled up into a bun, she had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face but she could not look into his eyes. He understands she was in a very very open position. Erik didn't like the change but she was still sexy no matter what. He hoped that she would have opened the door naked. "What the fuck is it?" "Watch your mouth talking to me," Erik fires back. "I'll talk to you however I please. My dad is paying you so that means you listen to what I say." She was looking at him now but her voice was shaky. She was so nervous and still very embarrassed. "See, your dad is paying me. Not you. And you listen to what I say, Y/N. I see you ain't leave this fucking house." "Watch I put my dress and heels on and leave right now." "I fucking dare you to try me," Erik was sizing her up now, his body bumping into hers, pushing her further into the room. He was inside again, the sweet smell of her sex around him. She must have been in here cumming back to back. Erik let his eyes linger on the bed. Sure enough, there was a large ass wet spot in the center. "Damn, you did all that?" He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. Y/N covered her face, walking away to use the velvet bedding to hide her mess. "Nah, ain't no shame in that, ma, let it show." She was growing hot again. Her pussy was begging to cum, she was right...there. And in comes this big nigga.

Damn...he actually came in my room

She wanted to rip that robe off and stuff her fingers in her pussy.

"What's wrong now, Y/N?" "You. It's your fault. Just get the fuck out." "So you can moan my name again?" She turns to him slowly, taking him in fully now since he wasn't in that dark hall anymore. His thick dick was standing straight out at her with no regard. Muscles carved into his lean body, tiny raised scars all over him symmetrical. He didn't even hide how horny he was. She was correct, her condoms would not fit around that dick. He would break them bitches before she could even get it down and around him. His big dick ass had her sucking on her bottom lip now to control herself. That inner freak was ready to pounce. "Y/N." Erik was walking up on her now, his dick pressed into her ass. "Shit," she sounds out, looking at him over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. "You tryna get me in trouble?" He spoke in a low tone. "No. You won't anyway. All surveillance is off in the house except for outside." "Hmm," Erik looked down on her ass cheeks. His dick was in between both of them. "Now why would you do that?" "Because I can." "Because you can," Erik repeated her words. "It's my fucking house." "See...I like you." She was dying to hear those words. At this point, there was no turning back. He was in her bedroom now with his dick between her cheeks. This shit was totally off-limits. "You ain't scared of me?" The touch he gave to her chin made her booty arch into his crotch further. "No. I ain't scared of men like you." "Oh, Forreal?" He was smiling down at her with this glint in his eyes. "I see men like you every day in my house. What makes you any different?" He laughs, "Because I'm not like these men that walk around your father's house. I'm Killmonger, there's a difference. You should know, you chose me, right?" He had a good point. Y/N could tell from jump that he was nothing like the other men. "Yeah, I could see that." "So then ima ask your ass again, you ain't scared of me?" She shakes her head no. "Open your fucking mouth." "NO." She let him know real quick. Erik presses his lips to her ear, "You definitely ain't going nowhere since you so brave, babygirl." What exactly was he referring to? Was he gonna fuck her so good that she would need her meals brought to her bed? "Where's that dildo?" He asked with his eyes still on her. Y/N pointed to the bed, Erik noticing it on her laptop keyboard. "Pick it up." She did, holding it around the fake silicone balls since the rest was so wet and covered in her cream. That fake dick was drenched in her essence. "Suck it off." She gave him a look to challenge his words but Erik gave her a much harder look that had her flinching and popping that dick in her mouth. He watched her suck it, her jaws all sunken in and the cream disappearing. "So that's what that mouth do?" She even licked the balls to catch the bit that spilled there. "How you fuck that pussy?" "With my legs wide open, from the back, and I rode it." "Shit, how you ride it? You did that shit on your tiptoes?" "Yeah, I stuck the suction on that chair right there." Erik looked over in the corner to find an acrylic glitter desk chair. "Bruce little girl is a freak," Erik laughs, "Bought to let her bodyguard hit." "I-you wanna fuck me?" She thought he wanted to fuck her with the dildo, the only dick her pussy really knew not his monstrous dick. "Only if you want me to." "Please." Fuck that dildo. Y/N tossed it back onto the bed, taking off her robe with the quickness. Erik raises both of his brows at that, loving how ready she is to take some dick. She stood before him, nude once again. A nice curvy body with smooth brown skin. Mouthwatering for sure. "Put on another video you like to watch, I wanna see." Y/N went to lay on her belly, ass up and bouncing for Erik to see. He removed his pants, his dick leaking with pre-cum and sticking to his leg. He watched her pull up a video of a sexy couple. The man was eating her pussy, slobbering on that shit. The loud munching sounds had Erik grunting and reaching out to smack Y/N's ass hard. She looked back at him, making her ass shake so he can do it again. Erik gave her what she wanted with his large calloused hands. He was definitely an experienced man for sure. "Get on your back, I'm eating that pussy." She flips over, opening her legs to show Erik all the creamy goodness that spilled from her. She was a goddamn mess down there. He got down between her legs, angling the laptop so he could watch it with her while he ate her pussy. As soon as the man in the video started sucking on his girl's clit, Erik did the same to Y/N. She was so overwhelmed by it that her thighs kept trying to close. Erik took her calves, thrusting them forward so that her toes touched the bed and her pussy and ass were open for him. He went to work on her little ass, his eyes looking from her to that screen. Whenever the guy in the video sucked, Erik sucked. Whenever he French kisses her all over the inside, Erik did too. She was so sloppy on his mouth. Erik was so happy to be eating pussy again that he didn't say a damn word. The only sounds he made were munching, smacking of lips, tongue flicking, and popping of his mouth off her clit and inner folds. Y/N was having a fit. She was trying to watch the action on the laptop but Erik kept pulling her away. He was devouring her slit. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore he had his fingers thrusting inside of her pussy while sucking on her clit. Three of those fingers. Her eyes rolled, head bobbing back and forth. She had no feeling in her legs left from how big she came on Erik's fingers and tongue. She trembled and trembled. But yet he was still going. "That's enough, Killmonger," she let out a sharp moan. "Stop!!" Before she could push his head away she was squirting. She covered his chest and the bed with all her mess. He pulled his fingers out before sucking on them with his long slippery tongue. Now, he was on his feet, kneeling on the bed. He had one hand around his dick while the other rested over his nuts. "Pull up a dick sucking video." "You do it." She tells him while still trying to recover from the atomic bomb head she just received. Erik leans over her, the smell of the soap he used on his skin surrounding her and causing her to kiss his neck. He didn't complain about that so she continued. Erik pulled up a favorite of his. One where the girl was talking into the camera, begging the nigga to cum on her face. This always had Erik busting a huge nut. "Bring your mouthy ass over here and suck my dick." He ordered. Y/N timidly grabs his dick, jerking it slowly to get a feel of the weight on him. This shit must drag when he walked. "I know it's a lot but you can take it." She kissed the tip of his dick before looking up at him to see if he liked it. "Keep going, I ain't tell you to stop." She wrapped her lips around the tip of his dick now. She sucked softly, little moans coming from her mouth at the same time. "You should see how that little mouth looking right now. You can't even fit me in there." She tried to challenge his words, lowering herself further down his dick. She could only make it to half the dick. Even that was too much for her. "It's okay...relax, ma. Take your time with it." She did her thing, tight pouty lips gliding over him all delicate. He was enjoying the soft way she sucked his pipe. Her spit bubbles around him dripping to her chest caused Erik to grab her curly bun. He started thrusting his hips, Y/N looking up at him with fearful eyes. "Relax, I got you, sweetie," she reached out to stop his hips from moving forward, "I promise I won't go too rough, I promise." She still held her hands on his hips but her mouth relaxed around Erik, allowing him to fuck her mouth at a pace she could tolerate. The sound of her spit building on her tongue and Erik's dick hitting her throat was music. She squeezed her eyes because he got a little too happy, her throat tightening around him. "FUCK, I ain't mean to I swear," He spoke in a hushed tone. He was so damn close to cumming in this girl's mouth. Her tight mouth. "Damn, your lips so tight." His eyes fluttered. She felt like the side of her lips would split in half from how thick he was becoming. She tried to open up wider but there was no use. Y/N breathed through her nose, allowing Erik to finish off. He was a challenge for her. "Shit-shit-take it, take all this dick!" The minute his cum hit her throat she gagged, Erik holding her in place so he could finish out within her mouth. He pulled out, his dick bouncing in her face and the last bits of his cum shooting onto her cheek. She looked so shocked at his action. Her fingers went up to scoop it up and into her mouth. "You are such a big girl. Did so well for Daddy." "You cum a lot, Killmonger." "You like that, don't you?" "Yes." Erik bit his lip, "get on your back, ima fuck the shit outta you." Y/N got onto her back but she didn't want it like that. She wanted him to fuck her from the back. She wanted to see how it felt taking his generous dick with her ass in the air. "What's wrong now Y/N," Erik spoke with annoyance. "I want you to fuck me from the back." "...see, I don't know if you can take it like that yet, ma. You'll feel me in your stomach if I do that." "So," Y/N turned around, arching her back, reaching behind her to pull her pussy lips apart. "Is it still too much?" She teased. This was how she imagined Erik would fuck her when he walked in. He might as well take her pussy like this. "Shit ain't too much for me, this dick gonna be too much for you. But since you such a hard-headed bitch Ima give you what you want." Erik fixes her arch. She thought she was positioned the right way. Nope, Erik needs her face and shoulders pressed into the bed with her ass angled all the way up to where Erik could have a deeper thrust. She looked back at him, nibbling on her fingers to calm herself. "You looking real nervous for a chick who ain't afraid." Erik beat his dick on her clit. "I'm not afraid." She spoke softly. Erik didn't have anything more to say to her. He grabs his dick, bringing it to her velvety hole and sinking it right in. He didn't give Y/N time to think. He was all the way inside of her. Erik got in her pussy in one clean motion. She had her eyes closed briefly before opening them to show Erik how watery they were. She thugged it out and Erik was impressed, for now. He was frozen, his dick still buried. "Y/N." "I'm good," she was ready. "Bet." Erik pulled out to the tip of his dick, his eyes watching the muscles in her back flex. She was spread wide for him. He thrust back in swiftly, his balls hitting her clit. That sensation had Y/N whispering something into the crease of her arm. Probably saying how good and thick his dick is. "Faster," she begged. Erik built up speed, her ass making that sound he loved whenever he fucked bitches from the back. She was clapping all over him. Y/N felt it in her belly. It was something she couldn't really feel with her dildo. "OhmyGod!" She screams. Her hands reached out in front of her to grab hold of the cum stained sheets, balling it up with her fists. Erik was beating the breaks off her pussy at this point. He would grunt and moan real low but Y/N could hear it. "Killmonger, you're stretching me!" He slowed down, before picking up the pace some more. The shit was amazing. She was wrapped around his dick perfectly. "You gonna make me bust early in this pussy, girl! look at this pussy, loving all this dick I'm giving her!" She likes that he referred to her pussy as "her" it made her attempt to throw it back on him but her hips were so weak. "OhmiiGod you're so big!" She cried. Erik gave Y/N a thunderous slap to her ass before grabbing her shoulders to pound into her some more. Her head fell forward, moans and groans stuck in her throat. "I got you arched over this dick, girl," she tried to move but Erik was right there with her, "Stop it, ma. You were doing so well. Daddy was proud of you for taking this dick." "It's just so deep." "I told you, didn't I? It's too late now I like fucking you like this." She was in his control. Y/N's pussy leaked so much on his dick she couldn't keep count. It was so sensitive to his long and fat dick. It's because he's so big and she's so tight. "Fuck, you're tearing my pussy up!" Erik pulls out, Y/N's juices following right behind him and onto the bed. She flips over, bringing her legs up for Erik to grab. "You don't waste no time," He says in a teasing manner. Erik takes her calves again, stretching them all the way back so her toes could touch the bed. "Such a nasty girl with this pussy spread open for me." His dick was inside of her again. She watched with pure bliss to the point of tears. He was doing push-ups in her pussy. Erik moves his hips in a circular motion creating a new sensation inside of her that had Y/N's toes curling. "Wet pussy, I fucking love it." "Yes!" She had her hands on Erik's hips, pulling him further inside of her like he wasn't already deep. "Shit," He looked down at her, "grab my nuts, squeeze them." She did, squeezing and massaging them. Erik was no more good. "Now you're squeezing my dick and nuts. Getting all of me tonight, huh?" "Fuck yeah." "You gonna let me cum all over this pussy?" "Yes, Daddy." "You gonna let me cum all over this good pussy?" "Yes, Daddy." "You fucking better!-shit, mmhmm Ima give you what you want, fuck, girl you got me cumming!" Erik shot thick ropes of cum onto Y/N's phat pussy lips. Y/N reached between them to stroke him, more cum shooting out and onto her belly. The feeling was too much. This girl was covered in his cum. Pussy looking like a cream pie. Y/N rubbed it between her folds before taking her fingers to suck on. "Can you stay the night with me?" She asked between sucking. Erik gave her a sly smile before shaking his head, "I don't think so, ma. I already fucked up coming in here. Thank God you disabled the surveillance in the house. I ain't tryna die because I fucked my boss's daughter." "Please?" "Only until you fall asleep." "Fine." Erik puts his pants on, watching Y/N get up from the bed to change her sheets. "Ima go check my phone to see if your dad tried to get in contact with me." "Okay," Y/N watched Erik leave the room and down the dark hall. She wanted to squeal, jump for joy, dance, anything to express her excitement. That was the most memorable sex she's ever had. It's sad that it had to be because of this sticky situation but she didn't regret it all. Now she didn't want her father to return home for a while. If she could get some dick from Killmonger she'd be more than happy. Fuck spending time with her friends, there was an entire estate for her and Erik to have fun in. She placed her sheets in a hamper before returning with fresh ones. Erik was back in her room now, closing the door. "I had a talk with your Father." Y/N's heart sank, Erik laughing at her expression. "You gotta learn to relax, Y/N. All he said was that his trip is gonna have to be extended another six days." "Six days?!" She closed her eyes, Erik laughing at her excitement. "Yeah, some shit about business running slower than usual. Plus, he had to off a few lousy men so he might come home short two henchmen." "So, what does that mean for you?" "That means I'm 2 million dollars richer." "You're still gonna watch over me?" Erik couldn't help but give Y/N his lady killer smile. She blushes, turning to put on her robe. "Yeah, you don't plan on telling Bruce that you don't like me as a bodyguard, right?" "I only said that because you didn't let me go out!" Y/N argued back. "But now you want me around," Erik licks his lips, "I gave you some dick now you want me to stay." He didn't have to put it like that but it was halfway true. Y/N wasn't going to say anything to Bruce about Killmonger. "Killmonger, you have good dick, okay? Now, stay the night with me, please?" She gave him her best pout and innocent eyes. "You are really gonna get me in trouble."

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#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger smut #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fic

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crossdressingdeath · 3 years

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Okay yes I will ask your thoughts on Anders :D

Well, to start with something simple (and I assume not particularly controversial): the sequence of events we’re given for how Anders ended up in Kirkwall makes no fucking sense. I mean, it makes sense that the Chantry would ignore the Right of Conscription and try to drag him back to the Circle, but where the fuck is the Warden in all this?! If memory serves in some piece of the canon it’s implied or outright stated that the Chantry went over their head to get Templar agents into the Wardens, but they’re still the Warden-Commander? We’re expected to believe that the Warden, someone who will in most saves count Anders and Justice as dear friends and can be adamantly against the Circle, the Templars, and the Chantry as a whole, would just let a bunch of Templars run the two of them out of Amaranthine? The Warden would permit the cat they gave Anders to be taken away from him without so much as a fight? They may have to answer to Weisshaupt but even so! If Weisshaupt was interfering in the running of the Ferelden branch that much I’d expect it to be at least mentioned! If you played your Warden as someone who cared about the people under their command Anders and Justice getting forced out by the Wardens makes no sense. Honestly even if they don’t give a shit about their people Anders has friends! At the very least there should have been some mention of how exactly this was allowed to happen (maybe the Warden and the Awakening companions minus Anders and Justice were called away for some extremely long mission or something), or preferably Anders and Justice should have been chased out of Amaranthine through means entirely unrelated to the Wardens; you could have a bit about Anders being scared that after merging with Justice he’d bring trouble down on the Wardens that they couldn’t weather, it would be good and give him an element of connection to the people we spend the entirety of Awakening watching him bond with, and most importantly a connection to the previous player character that both Oghren in Awakening and Varric in Inquisition get but he doesn’t. Like, think about that for a second; Oghren obviously already knows the Warden and Varric pretty much waxes poetic about how great Hawke is every time they come up, but Anders doesn’t even react to learning about a fucking assassination plot against the Warden! Give me some friendship points for dealing with that, at least! And when you run into Nathaniel if memory serves Anders doesn’t even ask about the Warden, who Nathaniel is presumably still serving under! He doesn’t ask Zevran about the Warden either, even if you romanced him in Origins! Basically just the fact that DA2 doesn’t acknowledge your approval value with Anders even while remembering such things as whether or not you slept with Isabella in the Pearl irks me. This is your carryover companion, Bioware! Try a little harder to remind us of that!

Anyway, moving on. Honestly so much about Fenris and Anders’s dynamic bothers me? I remember seeing a post about how maybe actually after a while they settled into actual discussion and learning from each other but Varric decided to spice it up by keeping them super aggressive in his storytelling, which I do like better, but in the canon story? I mean, they’re just playing hot potato with the misery poker at this point. And do not get me started on the guy with the spirit of justice in his head approving of selling someone into slavery. I don’t care how much he hates Fenris, Justice disapproved of having a pet cat in Awakening! And Bioware seriously expects us to believe that the guy with, again, the spirit of justice in his head would wave off fucking slavery because “mages have it worse”? I do not buy that. It makes far less sense now than it did in Awakening, where Anders had spent most of his life in a tower where elves were at least nominally on equal footing with humans and was only just getting out in a way that was likely to be permanent.

And of course, the big one: the whole thing where the narrative flattens Anders forcing a confrontation by blowing up a building that’s closed at night and only really has a couple people in it even during the day to kill the woman signing off on the mass slaughter of innocent people with the expectation that if the Templars are really interested in justice they will execute him instead of killing the mages of the Circle to just “crazy mage blows up a building and kills huge numbers of people to force everyone to go to war” pisses me off. This is a series that allows you to justify abandoning an entire town to be killed by skeletons! In this game you can sell your friend to slavers! And yet there is no serious moral discussion about Anders’s actions. It’s bad, case closed, no possible justification for it. And... other people have made this point more eloquently than me, but it seems pretty obvious that they made it a big, dramatic (and incredibly nonsensical, what the fuck is even happening with that explosion, was the point not to do it without magic, why did it look like that) explosion to set off that knee-jerk “explosion = terrorism” response that most people have; a public killing didn’t have to involve blowing up a church, now did it? I don’t believe for a second that a man who could plant a bomb in the Chantry without anyone noticing despite being a known apostate couldn’t find a way to get Elthina out of the Chantry and into a public area where she could be killed dramatically and without any risk of collateral damage from his own actions, especially with the situation reaching the point where she was having to directly interfere to keep the chaos from going too far. Hell, even burning it down would’ve been better (and honestly more satisfying I think, given how much time every other part of Kirkwall spends in flames)! Note also that in Trespasser, which would’ve been written well after 2 came out and people started talking about how Anders had a point, they have a bit where Varric talks about massive death tolls and enough rubble to change tidal patterns in a port city. The destruction of one building cannot do both those things! I don’t actually think it could do either given we’re shown that it is practically empty when it goes up, but it certainly couldn’t do both! We were not supposed to actually... think about this explosion. We were supposed to conclude that Anders was wrong because explosions are Bad and then when people didn’t come to that conclusion they crammed in a bunch of nonsensical bullshit about death tolls and tides without considering whether that made any sense from a logic standpoint in an attempt to push us to stop questioning it. And... in a series that put so much thought into complex morality in the first game, that was just a massive disappointment and step back in the complexity of the morality. And almost certainly the first step towards Inquisition’s “Well actually in this conflict where one side wants to be allowed to imprison and torture people and the other side wants to not be imprisoned and tortured both sides are just as bad as each other” bullshit, which just makes it even worse.

Basically at the end of the day Bioware took a complicated character with every reason to hate the Chantry and a brilliant plan for exposing just how uninterested the Templars are in justice (a plan that works, may I add; the Circles didn’t rebel because the Chantry blew up, they rebelled because the Templars proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would use anything as an excuse to murder their charges even if they had the actual perpetrator of whatever they were using as that excuse right in front of them) and flipped the narrative to “crazy terrorist mage who killed infinitely more people than logic would suggest was possible while still doing all the other shit they claim that explosion did”, and I hate that.

#dragon age #anders #rynne #asks

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thebladeblaster · 3 years

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Pokémon: the Dark Circuit (aka Vanguard Descends season 2)

Chapter 9 Prelude To The Circuit Part 2

Aichi’s current team

Level 81 Wingal (Lycanroc (dusk)) rock

Moves:

Stealth rock

Crunch

Stone edge

Play rough

Level 79 Llew (Golisopod) water/bug

Moves:

Sucker punch

Blizzard

Liquidation

First impression

Level 80 Gancelot (Lucario) fighting/steel

Moves:

Focus blast

Stone edge

Meteor mash

Dragon pulse

Level 86 Soul Saver (Haxorus) dragon

Moves:

Outrage

Iron tail

Dragon dance

Scale shot

Level 100 Alfred (Aegislash) ghost/steel

Moves:

Sacred sword

King’s shield

Iron head

Shadow Claw

“Well...I guess I can’t convince you at least not now. So, I’m returning to Kakusa for now...I’ll find a way to show you that we don’t have to be enemies, Olivier.”, Aichi said.

“We at least agree on that.”, Olivier replied.

“Is something wrong Yugi?”, Anzu asked.

Yugi blinked looking very confused. He didn’t know why that sudden image came to his mind. Perhaps he was daydreaming? Imagining a possible what if?

“What’s the messiah?”, Yugi thought.

“I...don’t know.”, Yami replied awkwardly, looking as confused as Yugi.

“Well...I didn’t exactly expect you too.”, Yugi replied, sweat dropping.

They then finally started to set off from Galar. Aichi took one last sad look at the region he was born in before turning away. Those with flying Pokémon threw out theirs and they took off to the regions they were at before minus Aichi who was finally returning to Kakusa.

Aichi went his separate ways from the others as they reached the shore of Sanctuary town. Aichi was a bit nervous as he stood before his home’s door for a solid minute. He noticed Elaine wasn’t watering the garden today he was thankful for that considering he didn’t want to get shot. Aichi shuffled nervously as the back of his fist hovered over the door.

“Oh!!!!!! What am I going to say?!?! I’m not even going to make it to the Circuit if mom kills me!!!”, Aichi mentally screamed.

“I just gotta do it! She’s probably been worried sick about me!”, Aichi thought, before finally knocking.

Aichi waited for a few seconds nervously before the door opened revealing Emi.

“Aichi?!”, Emi gasped in shock.

“H-hey…”, Aichi replied awkwardly, looking around behind Emi.

“Where have you been we’ve all been worried sick about you?!”, Emi questioned, as Aichi frantically waved his arms at her volume.

“I-it’s a l-long story…”, Aichi muttered, sounding very nervous.

Aichi paled as Shizuka came into view from behind Emi. Her eyes were shadowed and Aichi imagined menacing kanji floating around her in his panic.

“It's been a whole week…”, Shizuka started with noticeable restrained anger in her voice.

“I can explain!!!!”, Aichi replied in a very high pitched and panicked tone.

“You better!”, Shizuka threatened in a low tone and Aichi paled and nervously backed up.

Aichi flinched as Shizuka put her hand on his shoulder before he could scurry away.

“Where are you going son? Come in and explain.”, Shizuka said in a low tone and even Emi sweated a bit nervously knowing her brother was in for a bad time.

Aichi gulped nervously hearing her and started stuttering. His heart beat even faster when he was practically dragged into his house by his mother. Emi sweat dropped looking at her poor brother’s panicked face as he was dragging in silently glad it was not her.

“E-Emi!!! H-help me!!!”, Aichi begged practically squealed as Shuka, who was inside the house, sweat dropped.

She wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating, but she could hear horror movie-like music as Aichi was dragged away.

“It is so hard to believe he’s even the same entity as the other Aichi.”, Shuka thought.

Emi nervously followed slowly after the two joined by Shuka. Aichi sat in the living room sweating rivers of sweat as Shizuka’s gaze bore into him. They sat there as Aichi tried to tell them what happened while stuttering nervously. The two girls looked over to Shizuka nervously who’s eyes were still shadowed. An intense fiery aura of anger radiated around her which made Aichi panic more. Emi was 100% sure her mother was about to murder her brother in cold blood especially over the Circuit. Aichi only grew more anxious over the long silence. Aichi flinched as his mother made his way over to him.

He was completely shocked and taken aback when she wrapped her arms around him and embraced him in a tight hug. A faint blush appeared on Aichi’s cheeks who looked towards his mother in confusion. Emi looked completely stunned, absolutely sure her brother was about to get murdered.

“Aichi...I can tell you're scared. Never forget your that feeling. Your emotions. What makes you human. Fear, Happiness, sadness, love, excitement they’re all important.”, Shizuka finally said, only further confusing her son.

“Mom? I thought you were mad at me?”, Aichi questioned.

“Of course I’m mad. I’m furious! But, I know that no matter how much I try to keep you away from Team Asteroid they came back for you regardless. Not, even Kakusa is sacred to them; the only thing that is to them is their cursed dogma.”, Shizuka continued.

She tightened her grip on Aichi holding him close to her chest like when they first met all those years ago. She found it amusing and ironic that Aichi still got scared of her. By all accounts she holds no real power over him. If he wanted to he could level the whole region and she nor anyone else could stop him. That is what truly made Aichi different from the other Psyqualia users.

“That’s what truly makes you different from ‘them’. You have kept all the emotions that make you human. As well as your individuality rather than being a part of the collective of Team Asteroid.”, Shizuka continued.

“You think so?”, Aichi questioned, looking down remembering the times where he has lost such things where he just became their weapon.

“Mom...I met...D...Gin.”, Aichi replied, feeling uncomfortable calling Gin his dad.

“What was it like?”, Shizuka asked.

“I don’t understand myself. But, it's like he feels like a stranger yet at the same time I feel like I’ve known him my whole life.”, Aichi replied.

“... I suppose he feels like a stranger to me now as well. I used to know him so well too…I don’t want to lose you too. For you to become someone else. Some sort of stranger.”, Shizuka said sadly, hanging her head.

“It’s alright mom. I’m going to end all of this without forgetting myself.”, Aichi replied, grabbing a napkin and bringing it up to his mother as he noticed tears forming in her eyes.

“Be careful alright. Promise me you’ll come back.”, Shizuka replied.

“It will be fine Mom I promise. This time I know it will be the last battle with Team Asteroid.”, Aichi assured.

Later…

“Hey, Shuka, you know how Emi had a weird feeling like she met you before. I had a similar feeling with someone I met today. Actually it was more than just her...”, Aichi told her.

“Who was it?”, Shuka asked.

“A Quatre Knight, Rati Curti. For some reason I felt like I could trust her despite the fact that we’ve never met. I felt a feeling of familiarity around them for some reason. I understand Oliver but I don’t understand why I felt it towards the others.”, Aichi explained.

Aichi looked worried at Shuka’s nervous and pale expression.

“Is something wrong Shuka?”, Aichi asked.

“...Back in my world they were your personal team.”, Shuka replied, looking down and Aichi sweated nervously.

“You mean wait….?! Why would I get a sense of deja vu from them if we’ve never met before?”, Aichi questioned.

“I have a theory...I’m not sure if it’s right but I don’t think this is a different universe from the world I knew. If that was the case you and Emi wouldn’t get these deja vu feelings.”, Shuka replied.

“But, how is that possible? You said events were completely different in your world. How can they be one in the same?”, Aichi questioned.

“I believe that the world or timeline that I was originally from was overwritten by this one. Before I arrived in this world we were pursuing Jirachi, the wish granting Pokémon.”, Shuka explained, causing Aichi to gasp in shock.

“What wish did you guys make?”, Aichi asked.

“I don’t know for sure. At the time the wish was made I was separated from Emi. She was facing you...and she may have panicked making a wish that altered the timeline causing the old one to be overwritten.”, Shuka explained.

“That’s...crazy…wait I was facing Emi?!”, Aichi questioned.

“Yeah...about that. As you know in my world you were...kind of a bad guy. You were trying to stop us from freeing the world from Team Asteroid...uh...so ahem anyway I think you are getting these feelings of deja vu because of lingerings of the original timeline. The timeline was overwritten but traces of it still exist. Not physically but uh...I’m not sure how to explain it without big complicated words but it’s like memories and feelings of the previous world linger. Dormant within people before something triggers them.”, Shuka explained.

“I’m not sure I completely understand...but…”, Aichi trailed off, looking down.

So, that world where he was took over the world still lingers. He even faced off against Emi?! Seriously?!? His own sister?!

“All of that is in the past or I guess no longer in the past...uh...anyway you shouldn’t worry about it! You should worry about the present! After all you gotta beat 002f after all!”, Shuka said.

“About 002f is there anything you can tell me about him? As you know I still don’t remember most things before Kakusa. I didn’t even know I had a signature move…”, Aichi asked.

“Not specifically, I didn’t encounter him much in my timeline. But, if you want to know more about the Psyqualia users I guess...do you know about limit break?”, Shuka questioned.

“Not much...I saw 004a use it when he did he looked like a Pokémon for some reason.”, Aichi answered.

“That’s because when you guys use limit break your Pokémon genes become more dominant causing your appearance to change into something more like a Pokémon. After creating 001q the guys making you realized how much of a strain your psychic powers put on your bodies. As you know physically you're mostly human although you can upgrade your defense with your powers. Limit break was implemented after 001q to overcome that problem. Your Pokémon genes make your bodies sturdier to withstand the strain, more stamina and from what I’ve seen it seems like you get new abilities too.”, Shuka explained.

“Yeah, that certainly is an issue. Psyqualia always saps me like crazy whenever I use it.”, Aichi replied.

“It’s more for the higher levels of usage. I mean when your power starts physically hurting you body.”, Shuka replied.

“W-what?! That’s never happened to me or Ren before?”, Aichi questioned.

“That’s because neither of you probably used that much. How much of your power can you use safely now?”, Shuka asked

“...10% at max…”, Aichi replied, looking down as Shuka sweat dropped gaping.

“You kicked my butt with only 10% or less jeez! You Psyqualia users are really ridiculous.”, Shuka replied exasperatedly.

“How much did I use against you in your timeline?”, Aichi asked.

“I have no clue honestly. You were always holding back so it was never enough for you to become strained. Heck, we never even saw you limit break! I don’t even know what you could do in that state.”, Shuka replied.

“You never saw it?! Seriously? Wow umm...Takuto did say I had a lot of power...I never had any idea of how much…”, Aichi replied stunned.

“Yeah...I know. Trust me I know I’ve fought you multiple times...”, Shuka replied, sweat dropping.

“Sorry about that...Uh...Do you think I’ll need limit break to beat 002f?”, Aichi asked.

“Definitely. I felt his power when he came here. Considering he was trained properly to use his power he definitely can use limit break too and will be more skilled. If you two fought now you’d lose.”, Shuka replied.

“I see…”, Aichi replied, feeling a bit of 093v’s frustration building up inside him which he tried to conceal.

“Me and my Pokémon are going to have to train hard to defeat him...I refuse to lose to him again!!!”, Aichi thought, feeling exasperated at the end part.

Honestly, he’s had it up to here with his “other self’s” pride. Especially with such thoughts intruded into his mind and after he fought Groudon like a maniac.

“Just be quiet I have things to do.”, he thought to himself, addressing 003v.

Aichi walked out of his house after gathering his Pokémon.

“Well, looks like it’s time for the training. I’ll have you know I’ll be pushing you guys far harder than before. Aichi, you should know I won’t be satisfied till you are at least ready to have me battling as your Pokémon and not as your sword.”, Alfred said and Aichi nodded in response.

“I understand Alfred.”, Aichi replied.

“Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! (Ah jeez this is gonna be intense!)”, Llew said.

“Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. (We’ll have to wither it if we want a chance of getting Ahmes back.)”, Gancelot replied.

“Haxorus! Haxorus! Haxorus! (Oooh this is gonna be so fun!!!)”, Soul Saver said.

“Lycanroc…(Yeah, fun sure…)”, Wingal replied.

Aichi flinched as he felt a familiar presence near them. He turned to see Tatsunagi Takuto.

“Takuto?! What are you doing here?”, Aichi questioned.

“Well to help you out with the training of course and I noticed you're missing a sixth Pokémon.”, Takuto replied and Aichi looked down at the last part.

“No Pokémon can replace Ahmes.”, Aichi replied.

“Not replace. I was thinking more as a substitute…”, Takuto said, before revealing a master ball causing them all to gasp in shock.

“W-what a master ball?! Just what are you trying to give me, Takuto?”, Aichi questioned.

“As a temporary substitute for Ahmes I plan to join your party as Solgealeo. I am your guardian after all and this battle will likely be the toughest you’ll ever face. 002f is the greatest rival you have among the Psyqualia users for being the strongest.”, Takuto revealed, causing more surprised gasps.

“I understand but...are you sure you can do that Takuto? What about your corporation? Or Kakusa?”, Aichi questioned.

“This battle is much more important and Kakusa will be guarded in your absence. The Tatsunagi corporation will also be glad to provide you with anything you need for training. Even top quality training partners. How about Kai?”, Takuto replied.

Aichi’s breath hitched at the mention of Kai and his eyes lit up. Noticeably as he did Soul Saver started wagging her tail. Aichi’s other Pokémon sweat dropped.

“Lycanroc? Lycanroc? Lycanroc? (He’s a real fanboy ain’t he?)”, Wingal whispered to Aichi’s other Pokémon.

“I get to train with Kai!?!?!”, Aichi questioned with more excitement in his voice than they’ve ever heard before.

“Well yes. Kai has actually decided to return to Kakusa to train. After all the Circuit could be your guys chance to end this war once and for all.”, Takuto replied, sweat dropping a bit not expecting Aichi’s reaction.

In Kanto…

Yugi faced off against Jonouchi in a battle. Yugi had out his Grimmsnarl and Jonouchi had his Charizard. Anzu and Honda watched on as the two battles in the clearing.

“We’re definitely gonna beat those Asteroid losers! Gimme your worst Yug!” Jonouchi said.

“Always Jonouchi. Let’s go Mahad!”, Yugi replied and his Grimmsnarl growled.

“Need some more draining smarters?”, Kamui asked appearing much to the shock of the others.

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sophielovesbooks · 5 years

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Sophie’s Dark Academia Rec List

In honour of my favourite genre, have a very personal, very subjective recommendations list!

- The Secret History (Donna Tartt)

The obvious choice, a classic. In my personal opinion, it’s not perfect and there are better dark academia books out there, but it has massively shaped the genre and therefore deserves recognition. Also, the aesthetic is on point! Read if you want to get a feel for the genre or if you’re simply curious.

- If We Were Villains (M. L. Rio)

Basically a newer, better The Secret History?? Plenty of similarities, minus certain problematic bits that were present in TSH. Amazing prose, incredible characters, absolutely worth the read. A prime example of dark academia! Read if you love Shakespeare and college settings and compelling characters and drama and just beautiful writing!

- Black Chalk (Christopher J. Yates)

Also a fairly good example of the genre, but tragically underhyped. Darker than, for example, If We Were Villains. Set at Oxford! Will mess with your head. The characters are not necessarily likeable, but interesting. The writing is fairly complex. Read for a dark academia thriller which takes the unreliable narrator to an impressive new extreme (in a good way!)

- Truly Devious (Maureen Johnson)

A rare YA dark academia book! Read for murder and mystery and a beautiful boarding school setting as well as a really likeable main character! Due to its nature less dark and somewhat less mature than most of the other books on this list, but if you’re looking for more of a quick and fun dark academia read, this is the one for you!

In a similar vain: The Vanishing Stair (Maureen Johnson)

Cannot actually vouch for this as I haven’t read it yet, but it’s the sequel to Truly Devious and I have heard good things.

- The Secret Place (Tana French)

MASSIVELY underappreciated dark academia with (gasp) supernatural elements?! The most beautiful prose and funniest dialogue you will ever see. Incredible characters. Again, amazing boarding school setting and close group of female friends! (They will break your heart). Also murder. Also half of the story being told from a detective’s PoV. Read if you value good literature. Just. Read it.

- The Likeness (Tana French)

Actually, maybe I was kidding before, maybe this book is the most underappreciated dark academia book out there? Either way, it’s my favourite. Within dark academia and within ALL OF THE BOOKS. This is it. The perfect novel. Characters that own my hearts to this day. Writing so beautiful that it had me sobbing uncontrollably on several occasions. The university it is set in is Trinity College Dublin. (Cue me being bitter that I don’t go there every single day for the rest of my life.) Very intriguing mystery, too. Hilarious dialogue. All the emotions. All the heartbreak. Just… I love it so much, okay? <3

- The Lying Game (Ruth Ware)

Good, very good. Set in a boarding school near the ocean, but unfortunately, only the past tense story line is and we don’t get to see too much of it. Very interesting characters. Much heavier on the dark than the academia. Read if you’re looking for more of a classic murder mystery/thriller and are not too focussed on the academia. Also read for an interesting group of female friends.

- The Basic Eight (Daniel Handler)

Very promising, but wasn’t my cup of tea at all. The setting is an American High School on the West Coast. The murder isn’t that much of a mystery. I’m mentioning it here because I know that other people love this book, even though I really didn’t. I would say don’t read, but see for yourself, I suppose.

- The Lessons (Naomi Alderman)

Yes, okay, an interesting one. Set at Oxford, which was amazing. Interesting characters with interesting dynamics. I read it quickly and was quite entertained. But there were certain problematic bits (regarding LGBTQ+ representation and mental illness), so you’ve been warned. Not my fave, but I mostly enjoyed it while reading it.

There are a few more dark academia books on my shelves, which I unfortunately cannot include on this list, as I haven’t read them yet. One of them is “The Lake of Dead Languages” by Carol Goodman. Another is “Brideshead Revisited” by Evelyn Waugh. Might edit this post later to add these and more. xx

UPDATE!! (With slightly longer descriptions this time, because people are actually reading this? Reblogging even? Wow!)

- The Lake of Dead Languages (Carol Goodman)

THE ALL-FEMALE DARK ACADEMIA NOVEL WE ALL NEED AND DESERVE…?? The setting is A++. An all-female boarding school in the Adirondack Mountains in New York! There is a lake that features so heavily in the story, it basically counts as a main character. Told from the PoV of a teacher who used to go to the school. There are two close groups of female friends, one in the present timeline, one in the past. Both have dark, dark secrets and both fit the dark academia genre so well! Also, heavy focus on Latin rather than Ancient Greek, which I have all the love for. This one is a gem, so give it a chance!

- Brideshead Revisited (Evelyn Waugh)

An actual classic, as in… first published in 1945. And it reads like it. The beginning came with beautiful vibes! Our young boy Charles starting his time at Oxford, meeting a lot of pretentious people, including one Lord Sebastian Flyte, who Charles is suspiciously fascinated by. Sebastian is the biggest dork to ever dork, carries around with him an actual teddy bear named Aloysius, the absolute madmen?? But it’s all downhill from there, with alcoholism and war and depressing times… And Oxford only really features in the first half or less.

- People Like Us (Dana Mele)

Another rare YA dark academia!! Features a group of Mean Girls who one day, when out at night to go swimming, find one of their classmates floating dead in the lake. Which is an excellent dark academia set-up, let’s be honest. Also, sapphic girls, incredible sapphic girls with really complex relationships! Bi main character! A fun and quick read, much like “Truly Devious”. More descriptions of the beautiful boarding school buildings would have been welcome, but at least we got a few! Anyway, go forth and enjoy this little beauty.

- Party Girls Die in Pearls (Plum Sykes)

Umm… I barely even comprehend this book’s existence? Has a prime dark academia set-up with a murdered girl in Oxford, but I still somehow DNF’d it after about 20 pages?! The main character’s name is Ursula Flowerbutton, and if you think that’s quirky and funny… good for you, you might actually enjoy this book. But you’ll also have to endure descriptions of clothes, oh, so many descriptions of clothes! And for anything unique to Oxford that might make the book fun because only those who know will know… you’ll get a footnote. So actually, everyone will know, with zero effort. Definitely not for me, but if you want to read a glossy magazine style dark academia, knock yourself out, friend!

- The Night Climbers (Ivo Stourton)

Breath-taking! A piece of beauty! Set at Cambridge (and the campus features heavily!), a main character reminiscent of Richard Papen, an intriguing group of new friends that he would do anything to belong with. Including… climbing the buildings of Cambridge at night? Without proper equipment, just with his hands and feet?? Honestly, out of the books on this list, this one is the closest in style and maturity and characterisation to The Secret History! The writing is absolutely gorgeous, the plot fascinating. And it’s dark academia that features a non-violent crime, which works surprisingly well. All in all: A STUNNER THAT FANS OF THE SECRET HISTORY SHOULD CHECK OUT!!

- As I Descended (Robyn Talley)

A queer, sapphic Macbeth retelling?? Also a rare YA dark academia with strong supernatural elements?! The representation is on point, with two hispanic main characters, wlw, mlm and one of the girls in the main couple being disabled! The boarding school setting is also on point (and uniquely different as the school building is actually a former plantation in Virginia). This book is so different and so spooky! It wasn’t perfect and some say the retelling didn’t work 100% (I, personally, felt that the plot slowed down a bit), but the atmosphere is amazing and the characters are pretty cool, too!

Not to worry, my quest to find and read as many DA books as possible isn’t over. So this list might be updates again some time in the future! :)

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thebluenoteblog · 4 years

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and i will give you everything | part one

Summary: You meet Tyler in a bar and spend the night together. Though you have no idea who he is, just looking at him has your brain screaming ‘run’. Little do you know that the first night was just the beginning of a much longer story you would share with him.

Player: Tyler Seguin

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Smut, cursing

You were two drinks in and halfway people watching from the mirror in front of you. It was a favorite hobby of yours. You loved to pick a person and assign them a name, a personality, hobbies, and a life based on what you saw. Your current victim? His assigned name was Dustin. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a camouflage baseball hat to complete the look. He sat leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide with a beer resting on his knee.

You imagined that his Tinder bio was ‘Country boy stuck in the city’. He’d probably never been outside of the city in his life, but he drove a lifted truck and acted like he was the shit because of it. Dustin listened to exclusively country music. He had a deer head hanging in his house that he didn’t kill because he’d never been hunting in his life. His dad killed the deer, you decided. His dad was probably raised out in the country.

You lifted your beer to your lips and were about to shift your attention to one of Dustin’s friends when a gust of warm air washed over you. You turned you head toward the door and you immediately decided to scrap Dustin and his friends.

This new man was so much more interesting.

He paused inside the door and looked around the bar, lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his long dark hair. Your eyes followed his tattooed arms as they moved. Hunter. You’d call him Hunter. You averted your eyes to the mirror and watched him move to the row of barstools.

The bar wasn’t that busy, there were a few groups of people, but he had his choice of seats. He sat down on a stool a few spots down from you and you frowned but hid it by taking a sip of your beer. The bartender made his way over to him and Hunter ordered some beer that you hadn’t ever had before. He had an accent. Canadian maybe? Definitely not from Dallas.

He crossed his arms and leaned them on the bar as he waited for his drink. You continued to watch him in the mirror and decided that he was a personal trainer. He worked in a gym, maybe owned his own. He definitely owned his own gym. He rode a motorcycle. He had that air of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ about him that when paired with those looks that made you think that he had never had a serious relationship in his life.

The bartender set his drink on the bar in front of his folded arms and Hunter thanked him and raised the bottle to his lips. You watched his throat move as he swallowed. His Tinder bio was probably something like ‘If you aren’t down for a good time, swipe left’. He looked like he would be a really good time.

You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn’t catch him shifting his eyes toward you in the mirror. You usually would have noticed and averted your gaze to your drink or the bottles lining the shelves, but he had you so distracted that you didn’t notice his attention shifting to you.

Your eyes met in the mirror and he held your stare as he brought the bottle back to his lips. There was an air of danger in his eyes. Not the ‘I’m going to get murdered in an alley’ kind of danger. It was more of the ‘I need to abort mission before I get my body and heart destroyed by this man’ kind of danger.

You broke eye contact first, looking down at your hands wrapped around your beer. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hunter set down his bottle, lift his hat and run his fingers through his hair. You chanced a glance up in the mirror to find him still staring at you.

This time you didn’t look away. You didn’t have time before he stood up from his stool and moved to take a seat beside you. Your heart raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to meet the people you had assigned personalities to. Especially not the ones who looked like walking, talking, time bombs.

A minute of silence passed before he spoke, “So,” he said, “did you catch that Stars game tonight?”

You frowned. Sports fan. You looked closely at his hat and noticed now that he was sitting closer, the logo looked to be for a sports team. You should have picked up on that. “I’m not going to lie to you,” you responded, “I haven’t watched a hockey game since I was about ten years old.”

Something lit up in his eyes and he said, “I’m Tyler.”

“(Y/N),” you said, twisting your bottle in your hands. You knew his real name now. Very far from Hunter. Tyler suited him. It was better. He brought his beer to his lips again, then set it back down on the bar, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

He smiled, it wasn’t exactly directed at you. It seemed more like he was smiling at whatever the question made him think of. “I’m from Ontario. What gave it away?”

“Accent,” you stated, shrugging as you took a sip of your drink.

He chuckled lightly, “I’m surprised you picked up on it. It isn’t that strong.”

“I’m observant,” you said. When your favorite hobby was trying to tell a person’s story with as little information as possible, you learned to pick up on the smallest details.

He nodded, leaning an elbow against the bar and angling his body toward you. “So am I,” he said. “I observed that tattoo on your wrist. What does it say?”

You glanced down at the tattoo on the inside of your right wrist and flipped your hand over, showing him. “It’s a sibling tattoo. My brother, sister and got them together. Mine says baby sister.”

He pointed to just above his collarbone, “I have matching tattoos with my sisters too.”

You smiled, “You have sisters?”

He nodded, “Yeah, two of them.”

“Do they live here or in Ontario?” You asked him.

He glanced sideways over your shoulder, then back at you. “Ontario. My whole family lives there. They visit a lot though.”

“It’s nice that they get to come down and see you, at least,” you said. You lifted your beer to your lips and took another drink. This time you finished it and set it down. You frowned at the now empty bottle and sighed as you moved to get the bartenders attention.

Tyler beat you to it, holding out a hand. The bartender was there in a second, “What can I get for you?” He asked.

Tyler nodded his head toward you, “Whatever she wants, put it on my tab.”

You frowned at him. Here came that danger part that you had pegged him for. You may have been wrong about his name and you may have failed to notice that he was representing a sports team with his hat. However, you were unlikely to believe that you were wrong when you had declared him a danger to women everywhere.

That was not what you needed in your life.

But dear god, did you have a habit of getting caught up in exactly that.

You ordered your drink and it appeared in front of you faster than you’d ever had a drink delivered in your life. “Can I get you anything else?” The bartender asked.

Tyler shook his head, “Thank you.”

He made his way to customers at the other end of the bar and Tyler turned back to you. “So, what about you? Are you from around here?” he asked.

“Born and raised,” you said proudly. “I don’t think I’d ever move away. Travel a bit maybe, but I’ll always come back.”

He nodded, “I get it. Home is home. I left when I was pretty young though, so I guess it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Why did you leave so young?” You asked, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. You couldn’t imagine having moved out of your parents’ house before you were twenty, let alone leaving the town or the country.

He frowned and stared at his beer, moving to balance it on his knee, which was turned toward you. “I had goals to accomplish.”

“Did you accomplish them?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He looked back up at you, “What about you? Do you have any big goals that you were out to achieve?”

You smiled fondly at the thought, “I want to get a book published. I haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

“One thing I’ve learned is that if you work hard, anything is possible,” he said. “You’ll get it if you want it badly enough.”

“That was so cheesy,” you said, laughing a little and looking down at your hands.

He shrugged, “I believe it though.”

You glanced up through your lashes at him and your eyes met. There was that danger. That surefire look in his eyes that made this voice in the back of your head scream ‘Red alert! Abort mission! T minus X amount of time before this man ruins your life if you let this continue!’. That being said, you had a horrible habit of ignoring your better judgment.

Your eyes stayed locked for longer than they should have and neither of you said anything. Finally, he cleared his throat and broke the silence, “Are you any good at darts?”

You grinned, “I bet I could totally kick your ass.”

He laughed, a huge amused laugh, “We’ll see about that.”

You stood up at the same time at him and you found yourselves standing with just centimeters between you. He was taller than you had realized, or maybe it just seemed that way now that he was towering about a foot above you with your chest almost brushing his. You looked up at him and he swallowed before moving away from you.

As you made your way over to the dart board, he rested a hand on your lower back. You walked past Dustin and his friends and noticed their eyes on the two of you. It wasn’t you they were looking at though, they were watching Tyler. One of them leaned forward and whispered something to another as you walked past, all you caught was the word, “Hockey”. You glanced over at Tyler to see if he had noticed their odd behavior, but he was staring straight ahead, no look of recognition on his face.

You shrugged it off as you arrived at the dart boards on the other side of the bar. He dropped his hand and grabbed the darts, handing yours to you. “Best two out of three?” He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, turning to face the board, “I mean if you don’t think you can beat me the first time around then yeah, I guess.”

He nodded his head while he laughed at you, “You’re cocky for someone who has no idea what they’re up against.”

“Or maybe you’re just underestimating me,” You responded. “I’ll let you go first since you’re so sure of yourself.”

He was still laughing and shaking his head as he moved into position. He threw the dart and it was a good shot, you would admit that. He turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. A challenge. So, he was competitive. This was something to file away for sure. You couldn’t help yourself, you smiled sweetly and said, “Cute.”

He huffed and turned back around, throwing the rest. He did well, but you knew you could do better. You grew up with a dart board in your basement. You had been determined to compete with your dad and your brother for the position as the top dart player in the family since you were six years old.

Your first dart hit the center of the board. You turned to Tyler and raised an eyebrow. He frowned at you for a second before forcing himself to smile. “Cute.” You laughed and turned back to the board. When you finished throwing, it was safe to say that you won.

“Do you still want to go two out of three?” You asked him. He was frowning with his arms crossed.

“Of course, I do. I’m not just going to admit defeat,” he said.

You won again.

He was halfway pouting as you took your seats back at the bar, “I bet I would beat you at pool,” he said. “Hardly anyone beats me.”

“I bet you would beat me too,” you said as you lifted your beer to your lips again, finishing your third for the night. “I’m horrible at pool.”

He grinned, “We should definitely play then. I have a pool table. I’ve got a ping pong table too.”

You tilted your head, “I don’t know, I’m pretty good at ping pong, you might not want to risk losing again.”

He laughed, “I promise not to throw the paddle.”

“Well I would hope not,” you said, “You’d be breaking your own stuff.”

“Like you’ve never gotten mad and broken something?” He said, though it was more of a question.

You giggled and covered your face with your hand, “I’m really going to plead the fifth on that question.”

“That just makes me want to know even more,” he said, leaning forward toward you. “Come on. It sounds like a good story.”

“It sounds like an incriminating story,” you said, moving closer to him. “I don’t need any more people knowing about it than already do.”

He frowned, “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Eventually. What was his game plan here? He looked like the classic ‘love them and leave them’ type. There would be no eventually. There would be tonight and that was it. You would probably go back to your house. He would be gone the second you fell asleep. You would never see him again.

But he’d said something about having a pool table at his house and playing ping pong with you. So, what was his game plan? What was he doing? This was why guys like him were so dangerous.

You shook your head, “That would take a while.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he said, “I don’t give up easily.”

He pulled away, putting some distance between the two of you and brought his beer to his lips, finished it, then set it down on the bar. “We’re both out. Do you want another one?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning back. “I should stop while I’m ahead.”

He grinned, “Whatever you say, (Y/N).” It was the first time he’d used your name and it made your stomach flip. Maybe the alcohol had hit you harder than you thought it had. “Do you want to come back to my place? We can play some ping pong.” He nodded his head toward the pool table in the center of the room, “Pool is no fun if we know that I’m going to win.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and watched as his eyes drifted down to your mouth. “I guess I’m not opposed to that.”

Tyler pulled out his wallet and held out his card. The bartender dropped was he was doing was grabbed it. “Run her tab too,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, already in the process of digging your wallet out of your purse.

He waved you off and the bartender ignored your protest as he ran the card then handed Tyler two checks and a pen. You weren’t snooping. You just happened to catch out of the corner of your eye that he left an insanely large tip for what combined to be a $30 bill.

You eyed him as he pushed the receipts and the pen across the bar. He definitely wasn’t some small business owner like you had suspected. Looks like you had been off the mark again. He stood and smiled at you, “Ready to go? I’ll drive. You’ve had a few.”

You frowned. You hadn’t thought ahead to the point that you would be trapped in a house without your car with a man you had just met an hour ago. He seemed to notice the battle raging inside your head and he gave you a kind smile, one that contrasted so deeply with the image you had been building of him as this man who destroyed women’s hearts as a hobby. “I’ll bring you back to your car whenever you want.”

You relented. Who were you kidding, you had never been the poster child for good decision making anyway. Why start now? With full knowledge that your sister was going to kill you for this when you filled her in the next morning, you nodded and said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

He placed a hand on your lower back as he led you out of the bar, and you would swear that you could feel the eyes of Dustin and his friends on your backs as you left.

<><><><><><>

There was a part of this story that you were missing. Usually when given so many pieces of a puzzle, you would fabricate something. However, now that you knew his name, where he was from, how young he was when he left home and how many siblings he had, it felt weird to speculate on why you were pulling up to a massive house in a ridiculously expensive car. Now that you had two more pieces to this puzzle, the large tip seemed a little less strange.

You had paused and stared at the car when he walked up to it and opened the door for you. You’d raised your eyebrows as if to ask, are you joking? And he had just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at you. Proud. He was proud of his car.

Now he was unlocking his front door and pushing it open. As soon as the two of you stepped inside, three dogs came sprinting into the entryway. All labs which made you smile. You dropped down to your knees and scratched behind the ears of the yellow lab that was trying desperately to fit in your lap.

“Gerry,” Tyler chastised him, “You aren’t a puppy anymore, you don’t fit!”

“Oh,” you said, reaching out a hand to rub down the back of the chocolate lab that was trying to lick your face, “Labs are my favorite animals. I like dogs, but I love labs.”

He reached down to scratch the chin of the black lab, “Technically they’re the same thing.”

“They aren’t though,” you said. “You obviously know that. That’s why you have three of them.”

“You’ve got me there,” he said. “Come on boys, outside.”

You frowned and stood up, following him as he walked through the house to the back door. He opened it and ushered the dogs outside. “Go on. Don’t look at me like that, Marshall. I’ll feed you later.”

The chocolate lab turned and walked off into the back yard, following his brothers. “They’re cute,” you said.

“They are,” he responded as he pushed the door closed and turned to face you. “Ping-pong?”

“Do you want to risk losing again?” You asked.

He smiled, “I’ll take the chance. This way.”

You followed him through the house and ended up in a home gym that also contained a ping-pong table. He picked up a paddle and handed it to you, “Loser takes a shot of fireball?”

“Deal,” you said, “This is a little unfair though because I’ve already had three drinks and you’ve only had one.”

He grinned, “You better win then.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You lost.

“Best two out of three!” You protested, picking the ball up off the floor.

He shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. Terms are decided before the game starts. Bottoms up.”

“You’re just bitter because I beat you at darts,” you said, tossing the ball at him. He batted it away with his hand. “I let you go two out of three, it isn’t my fault that you suck to badly to beat me.” He smiled, and he looked more amused than anything.

“I’m really okay with it, we’re even now.”

You put a hand on your hip, “Not we aren’t, I beat you twice.”

“You’re taking the shot, you lost fair and square.”

A few minutes later you were standing in his kitchen and he was pouring out a shot for you. He slid it across the island to you. “Did I mention that I hate fireball?” You asked, “I’ve had some pretty bad experiences with it.”

“Man up and take the shot,” he said.

You huffed, “I never said I wouldn’t. I just said that I don’t like it.”

Before he could say anything else, you threw back the shot then set the glass back on the counter. You wrinkled your nose as you refocused your eyes on him. “Are you satisfied?”

He was staring at you, palms leaned on the counter. “Something like that.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Feign innocence. That was a safe bet. Pretend you had no idea that he brought you here for sex. Pretend that you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you, those brown eyes even darker now than they had been in the dim light of the bar.

He maintained eye contact with you as he walked around the island, coming to a stop in front of you. The way he moved so slowly without taking his eyes off of you reminded you of a something big and scary stalking its prey in the best possible way. Your breath hitched when he came to a stop in front of you. With just inches between you, each with one hand on the island, he noticed.

The corners of his mouth turned up. When you looked into his eyes you saw it again. It was there, clear as day. That danger that screamed ‘Run! Run for the hills!’ but when moved his hand from the countertop and ran it up your arm, settling it on your neck, you didn’t run. You let your eyes drift closed as he leaned down to kiss you.

Just before your lips met, a set of paws jumped on the door. You both startled, then laughed. He whispered, “Fucking dog,” with his hand still on your neck and his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath when he spoke.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him, “You should probably let them in. They’ve been out there for a while.”

He sighed but straightened up anyway, removing his hand and taking a step back from you. You immediately missed having him so close. “They’re so spoilt,” he said. “It’s like fifty-five degrees outside and they have fur. The weather is perfect.”

“They would rather be with you,” you said. “They’re labs. They’re attention whores.”

He laughed as he walked out of the kitchen and around the corner to let the dogs into the house. “Come on in boys. You already ruined the fun.”

The dogs came barreling into the house and ran straight for the couch where they all laid down. Gerry grabbed a toy along the way and sat there chewing it, squeaker going off at about the same rate that your heart had been beating when Tyler was about to kiss you. Tyler walked over to the couch and pulled the toy away from him, “Sorry, Gerry.” He said, “That’s not happening right now.” He grabbed a toy shaped like a tire off the floor and tossed it to him. “Here, play with this.”

Gerry looked betrayed but accepted the peace offering.

Tyler put the squeaky toy up on the mantel and walked back over to you. “I’m sorry. They’re my kids.”

Fuck. Why was he so… likable? It was just another thing to add to the list of reasons he was so dangerous. You quickly reminded yourself that after tonight, you would probably never see him again and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have the time to fuck with your head or your heart. He could have your body for one night, that’s all you were giving him, that’s all he would ask for.

He closed the distance between you. Without saying anything, he placed a hand on your hip and pulled you against him. You looked up at him slowly, taking in his tattooed bicep and his broad shoulders along the way. His hand drifted around to the small of your back and for the first time you realized how large they were.

You wondered what he could do with them.

That thought had you biting your lip to keep yourself from asking him to show you. He reached his free hand up and with the pad of his thumb, pulled it free. Tyler moved his hand to the back of your neck and he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The kiss started slow, just a brush of his lips over yours. Then you swiped the tip of your tongue over his lower lip and he hummed as he pulled you tighter against him. He deepened the kiss and he tasted like whatever beer it was that he had been drinking earlier. He nipped at your lower lip and you reached your hands up from where they were tucked against his chest to wrap around his neck.

When his slipped his tongue inside your mouth, you ran your fingers up into his hair, knocking his hat off and onto the floor. He pulled back, moving his hand from your neck to rest on your arm. You frowned, “Are you that attached to your hat? Because I like the hat, but I really like your hair.”

He chuckled, “No, no,” he said, “It’s just…” he looked over his shoulder at where there were three pairs of dog eyes fixed on the two of you, “Like I said, they’re my kids. This is weird.”

You laughed, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Tyler nodded, “Preferably.”

He started to walk toward the stairs, then paused and ran back to where you’d been standing to pick up his hat off the floor. You threw back your head and laughed at him.

“Shut up,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly as he walked past you, “I like this one.”

You followed him up the stairs and before you made it to a room, he turned around and grabbed you. His lips were on yours and you were pinned up against a wall. You had your hands up and on the back of his neck, holding him against you as soon as you registered what was happening.

He lowered himself and lifted your leg up around his hip. You got the hint and wrapped both legs around his waist. He straightened up and made his way down the hallway, never breaking contact with your lips.

He kicked a door open and then kicked it shut again after he’d carried you through it. You didn’t open your eyes or pull away from his lips to look around the room, but you figured out that you were in a bedroom when he laid you down on a bed.

You kept your legs wrapped around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. You moved your lips to the side of his mouth, brushed them across his cheek, then scrapped your teeth over his beard. He groaned and lifted you, moving you up the bed and laying your head on the pillows.

You were pretty sure he wasn’t pulling away at that point, so you unlocked your legs. His hand slid under your shirt, pushing it up over your stomach. He pulled away and you successfully resisted the urge to whine. He pulled you up and continued to pull on your shirt. You lifted your arms and he pulled it over your head. He made a move to push you back down, but you resisted and ran your hands under his shirt and over his stomach. He yanked it off and tossed it to the side, then tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his.

You wanted a chance to look at his tattoos, but you would take this too. He reached behind you and unhooked your bra with one hand, danger, and pulled back to toss it off the bed in the same direction that he had tossed his shirt. He lowered you back to the pillows and trailed his mouth down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Every time he did your breath hitched.

He cupped your breast with his hand, his very large hand, and moved his mouth to cover your nipple. You threaded your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and he nipped and sucked. Despite your hand holding him in place, he moved to your other breast and did much the same thing.

He dipped his head between your breast and then trailed down your stomach while looking up at you through his eyelashes. He looked devious, and it was really doing it for you. He reached the button of your pants and stared at you for a moment. Waiting so see if you would stop him? Building suspense? It was hard to tell.

He pulled your pants off and they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. When he sat up to pull off your pants, you got your first good look at him. He was… a work of art. His tattoos were beautiful. His body was amazing. He was looking at you like you meant something even though you knew you didn’t.

Maybe that was why he was dangerous. He made you feel like you mattered when you didn’t.

Tyler pushed your thighs apart and ran his thumb over the black lace covering your pussy. You knew you were soaked and when his eyes snapped up from where his he was teasing you to meet yours you knew that he knew it too. “So wet for me already?”

You swallowed as his words only served to reinforce his point.

He pulled the lace out of the way and ran his rough thumb through your wetness, spreading it up to your clit which he circled. You couldn’t resist the small moan that fell from your lips and as soon as the sound left you he removed his thumb and yanked your panties down your legs before tossing them over his shoulder.

He dropped down, settling his face between your thighs. He nipped at the inside of your thigh, then he moved up closer to where you wanted him and sucked a mark just below the crease of your leg. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his mouth hovering over you as he looked up at you. You could see the spark in his eyes, he was enjoying this. He wanted you to beg.

You weren’t going to beg. At the very least you were going to be a brat about it. “Eat my pussy, Tyler,” you said without hesitation, voice breathless, hand moving to tangle in his hair.

He blinked at you, maybe a little surprised, then grinned and did just what you asked. His licked up your slit and circled your clit then dove back down and licked up more of you. He hummed against you, and said, “So good.”

He wrapped his hands around your thighs and held them tightly. Tight enough that he may leave bruises, but you weren’t going to worry about that when he was flicking his tongue over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hand tightened in his hair and you squeezed your eyes shut when he sucked and ran the flat of his tongue over your clit sending you headfirst into an orgasm.

He licked you until you pushed his head away, then he crawled back up your body and hovered over you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to capture his lips and moaned when he tasted like you. He pushed you back down, but you pushed his shoulder and flipped him over to straddle his lap.

His eyes roamed over your body and his hands followed, ghosting over your sides and landing on your breasts. You pulled away from his hands and he grunted, reaching for you but gave up and laid back against the pillows when he realized what you were doing. You scooted off of his legs and pulled his pants off, they too joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

You ran your hand over the outline of his cock, never breaking eye contact with him as you pulled his boxer briefs down. “Calvin Klein. So cliché of you.” You said softly, pretending that his size wasn’t making you want to scrap whatever ideas you’d previously had and jump on his cock right that moment.

He grunted and grabbed your hand, then moved it to his dick. “Do you just want my hand, or do you want something else?” You asked him.

“Hell,” he said, “If you’re offering I’ll take it.”

“You’ll take what?” You asked.

He grinned, “Put that pretty mouth on my cock, (Y/N).”

You swallowed and did exactly as he had told you. You ducked your head and took him into your mouth. He tangled his hands in your hair and pushed deeper. You put a hand on his thigh and he got the hint, backing off a little.

He watched you and you kept your eyes locked with his through your lashes the entire time. His hand guided your head, keeping you at the pace he wanted. He groaned, “Fuck,” again and you noted that he must really like that word.

He pulled you up and the rolled you off of him and onto your knees. He ran a hand down your back and then he was pulling off his underwear and leaning across the bed to grab a condom out of the night stand. You heard the package rip open and then he was behind you again, with a hand on your shoulder and the other guiding himself into you.

He didn’t give you time to get used to him, but you weren’t complaining. He pushed you down onto your elbows and spread your legs farther. He knew exactly what he wanted. You buried your face in the pillow to stifle your moans and he didn’t like that. He reached around and pulled the pillow away from you. “Let me hear you.”

“Shit,” you said, breathless as you rested your head up on your forearms, “So good.”

He groaned and reached around to circle his fingers around your clit. “Come for me, (Y/N).”

You fisted your hand in the sheets and moaned out his name as you did just that. Maybe it was his cock, maybe it was his fingers, maybe it was his words, but damn if that wasn’t the best orgasm you’d ever had. A moment later his fingers tightened on your shoulder as he finished.

He paused for a moment and rubbed up and down your back before he pulled out of you and walked into the bathroom. You collapsed onto the bed and buried your face in your folded arms. You needed to leave tonight. You needed to have him drive you back to your car and never see him again because now there were so many clear-cut reasons that you brain screamed, ‘run’ when you looked at him.

Then he came back from the bathroom and awkwardly handed you a damp washcloth, almost like he’d never done it before. You sat up and took it from him, “Thank you,” you said, and he pulled on his underwear before disappearing into the closet while you cleaned yourself up.

He emerged a moment later with a t-shirt in his hand and traded with you, taking the washcloth and tossing it in the hamper. You stared at the t-shirt for a moment before pulling it over your head. Again, you said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked around to the side of the bed that you weren’t sitting on and pulled the covers back, “The dogs are going to be so mad that I’m not letting them sleep in here tonight.”

You frowned, “Don’t kick them out all because of me.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it.” He rolled onto his side facing you, presumably waiting for you to come lay down with him. Every instinct told you that this was a horrible idea, but his eyes looked so hopeful that you couldn’t say no. You grabbed the pillow from where Tyler had thrown it at the end of the bed and put it back in its rightful place, then laid down beside him.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. Neither of you said anything as you fell asleep.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines

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risingsouls · 3 years

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Recruited: Chapter 10

[I did another thing! This one is a lot shorter than the last several have been and a little more filler-y BUT we’re getting close to canon stuff (that I’m trying to figure out how I want to write and format still). SO here we gooooo!]

Vegeta

Any miniscule time he was forced to spend alone with Frieza aggravated the prince. Whether to bear the brunt of some reprimand, to listen to him discuss business to an audience of intergalactic dignitaries at a stupid feast he was dragged to and forced to endure like some pet, or to nod along with him prattling on about himself and insulting Vegeta or his race in a single breath, he preferred it when running an empire distracted Frieza from his existence. This rare occasion of the tyrant requesting his company on a special mission had the same effects: the usual rage of being helpless to end the emperor's life, the discomfort of watching his every step and word, the humiliation of bearing his belittling commentary and pretending to be his proud, obedient attack dog. It was maddening, and the only solace in the trip was that he left Dodoria and Zarbon both been behind to attend to other business.

Nappa, Raditz, and Nabooru had also been ordered to deal with another assignment while Vegeta accompanied Frieza. Disconcerting due to the fact that, in circumstances such as this, his cohorts would be ordered to remain on base until his return, placed on a schedule that included training and any other grunt work the commanders could find for them. However, he supposed Frieza wanted to keep his top teams busy conquering planets for him. Vegeta hadn't missed the increase in work they had been assigned, and even their latest three day reprieve had been cut short. He tried to convince himself it all meant nothing, that, even if Frieza noticed how the four of them trained more often than usual in their free time, his ego would keep him from getting too suspicious. But Vegeta couldn't deny the increase in his own paranoia with each passing day. Each day he stepped closer to exacting revenge and killing the bastard, and he constantly found himself dwelling on every possible scenario that could skew or outright obliterate his plot.

"It's almost a relief to have different company for once," Frieza mused, a wine glass held between his middle and index fingers. He nodded to the bottle, a silent insistence Vegeta top him off. The Saiyan swallowed his grimace and did as he was bade. Zarbon's or Dodoria’s usual task. He noted the shift of his crimson eyes to the still near full glass in his gloved hand, and took the hint to take another measured sip. "Zarbon and Dodoria tend to bore me after a while. And their bickering...if they weren't so loyal and useful, I may have offed them by now out of sheer annoyance."

Vegeta chuckled, practiced amusement and rehearsed reactions. "I can only imagine," he responded. Another glance spurred him to add, "I suffer the same with Raditz and Nappa. Though it's less their bickering than some inane, disgusting topic of conversation I don't care to hear in detail."

"Yes, I suppose that is an unfortunate vice of the lower classes, their obsessions with sating their lust." Frieza swirled the wine in his glass, black lips downturned in disgust. "A product of lower brain function, I suppose. They have little more than lewd absurdity to keep their minds occupied. Something the two of us fortunately don't suffer from."

The prince bowed his head, performing each gesture that appeased Frieza with loathing. He didn't care for his useless compliments. He found it hard to focus on them when all he could imagine was ripping those horns from his head and burying them in his eye sockets. Or shoving the wine glass into his mouth and forcing him to chew it up and swallow the shards to laugh as he watched him spit blood onto the pristine floor. "Thank you, my lord. Your compliments are the highest honor."

"And they do not come lightly, Vegeta. You are an enigma of your kind. Had your race not perished, you would have made a fine ruler. Far better than your father." Vegeta ignored the twinge of rage his words plucked in favor of focusing on drinking the dry wine. "Yes, my tutelage has done wonders for you. Perhaps if my father had done the same with yours as I have done for you, perhaps he, too, could have evolved from a mere monkey playing court and dressed in regalia to a full-fledged ruler."

To keep his grip loose on the stem of his glass and not shatter it proved challenging in the face of his father's mockery. No matter his mixed feelings of the deceased Saiyan king, he did not take insults of his memory well. Especially from the likes of Frieza. He bit his tongue and once more drank to silence the blazing barrage of insults he wanted to sling in retort.

"You are too kind, my lord." The words burned like acid on his tongue. "I agree that my growth under your watchful eye has favored me greatly. I thank you."

"Of course. I saw promise in you the moment I set eyes on you. However, there is always room to grow and learn, wouldn't you say?"

His tone, the smirk on his lips, ramped Vegeta's paranoia to near overload. Had Frieza found out about his plotting? Led him and his team straight into a trap of some sort?

He was given little time to consider as Frieza spoke up again. "Earlier you only mentioned your Saiyan comrades. It reminded me that you and I have never fully discussed the fourth I added to your team. How has she fared?"

"Nabooru is a competent warrior, well-versed in her craft and battle strategy. She fits in well, and, outside of being mouthy and questioning my authority once in a while, she's proven her worth." He glanced to the wide window before them, to the passing stars and junk, the endless void of space. "She learns quickly and strives to improve where she can. She was hesitant to carry out orders, but has grown out of it for the most part."

Frieza laughed. "Such a glowing report from the commander who pitched a fit over my decision." Vegeta's lips tightened to a thin line and his brows lowered ever further, only encouraging the emperor's delight. "I can't say I'm surprised she has a belligerent streak. Her former king said the same of her when I asked in one of our visits. Your temper must be improving if her first strike didn't convince you to kill her. I have seen you kill for less, after all, Vegeta."

Vegeta clicked his tongue. "She's simply lucky she figured out not to take her insubordination too far with me. Otherwise, I would have. Her power level and skill be damned."

"A lesson well-learned, it seems. I recall it took you some time to learn the same, but I suppose you had the excuse of being a mere child."

Vegeta merely nodded, the memories of the physical abuses doled out by Frieza's or one of his cohorts' hands when he rebelled and the scars left behind all too fresh despite their age. The mental mutilation of the mind games the tyrant played with him. Each had served their purpose because he vowed and showed respect to the bastard with little beckoning. It made him sick, clawed at his pride and convinced him death would be a more pleasant fate. But he wanted revenge more than anything, so survive he must. No matter the cost. It would be worth it someday.

"Sir, we are approaching our target," the captain announced. "T-minus five minutes."

"Excellent. Remember, there will be no need to land here."

Vegeta glanced to Frieza when his scouter pinged. He pressed the button on the side. "Ah, what good timing, Nabooru. You have landed on Planet Noya and met with the other team there?"

Frieza cut the transmission and sighed dramatically. "Unfortunate, really." He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. "Shikoo and his team were quite the commodity. But one too many rumors about stoking rebellions and insubordination makes it difficult to keep such bad seeds among the loyal."

He waited for her reply, the smirk on his lips growing ever wider. "Yes, yes, I am aware of the success in purging the planet. The instructions to rendezvous with the soldiers sent to Noya were...purposefully vague. The task for you and the Saiyans is to kill that team. Don't worry your pretty head over why, dear. It's unbecoming of a soldier.. Their punishment has been a long time coming."

Vegeta's throat closed up and his mouth dried out. "The proper decision, it sounds like, sire," he managed, finishing his own glass and abandoning it. "Not to overstep my own boundaries, but I assumed we were purging this planet we're going to."

"We are. In a sense." He hoisted himself into his hover chair and propped his elbow on the edge, cheek resting in his palm. His crimson gaze rested on Vegeta, unblinking. "The denizens are...formidable enough, especially en masse, and intel suggests they wish to rebel against me. I have decided the time and potential casualties aren't worth the effort for what little the planet has to offer in the long run, so destroying it entirely will be a far better use for dealing with them. One and done, as they say."

A rare instance in which Vegeta agreed with Frieza’s methodology. He wished he would pass down such an order more often than he did, frankly. Putting down rebellions wasted time when they typically ended up murdering them all anyway. Any extra precautions and instructions usually forced them to hold back or went up in smoke not long after they landed. While he understood that some planets had more value than others, blowing up the planets and washing their hands of the business would allow them to take on more jobs. Send a team to gather whatever resources from the planet beforehand and then he and his team or one like his could destroy the place and move on. Not to mention he liked the thrill, the power behind destroying an entire world on his own.

A blue green planet slowly drifted into view, decent sized with a large landmass facing the ship in its current position in its rotation. Frieza waved for him to follow him to the center of the ship. "Come along. Vegeta. We will approach close enough that your ki will protect you from the lack of oxygen. I will allow you to do the honors."

Vegeta took the blare of the signal for the opening of the uppermost hatch as his cue to surround himself in a protective barrier of energy. While he could not survive the void of space this way, it offered protection from suffocation for at least a few minutes. More than enough to obliterate the planet and retreat into the safety of the ship once more. He followed Frieza up and through the hatch, hovering over it and facing the planet.

Though only allowed the chance to destroy entire planets on a few occasions, he made a point to remember what it felt like. The exact amount of energy he needed to build in his palms, how to adjust for the size and density of the planet. Back of one hand pressed to his palm, he shifted his arms back behind his head. Violet energy surged around his hands, his body, the draw and thrill of powering up familiar and welcome. Up and up he allowed his energy to rise until he deemed it the perfect amount to accomplish the task at hand. He shoved his hands outward once more and the stored cache of energy fired from his palms and through space, surging through the planet's atmosphere and striking the surface within seconds. The blast drilled through the landmass toward the core, wide cracks and fiery splotches already spreading from the point of contact.

With another beckoning from Frieza, Vegeta lingered a moment longer to watch the spectacle of magma shooting upward and his blast rending the planet in twain before following him back into the ship. The hatch closed and they returned to the navigation deck.

"Not bad, prince," Frieza drawled, scarlet gaze locked on the demolition out the window. "A bit messy, but unfortunately we don't have time to witness the entire fireworks show." A nod to the captain. "To our next destination."

The captain bowed and turned back to the controls. Before they swiveled around fully, Vegeta caught a glimpse of the planet's final moments: a series of explosions peppering the surface as its stability caved. Within moments, it would be nothing but space dust floating among the stars. A mere memory until it faded from it. Would any of its race survive? Would they hear the news of their home's destruction immediately, or only find empty blackness when they return? Would they, too, be plucked from whatever refuge allowed their survival to serve the Cold Empire? Told that a meteor destroyed their planet and they really had little other choice left as the empire still technically owned them?

His jaw tightened. He couldn't dwell on such things. None of it mattered. It never did. I never would.

#fic: recruited

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abduct-me-helen · 4 years

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Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 6.

If Sydney was anything other than cautious, she would consider herself observant. Partially because of the caution, she knew, but she chose to separate those traits when thinking about herself. It was for this reason that she began to notice Tabitha changing.

It was the little things, really. The way her hunger for knowledge had now manifested as ferocity. She didn’t like that look on Tabitha, who was usually so carefree.

Well, Syndey thought, maybe not carefree as much as good as putting on a persona.

It didn’t come out often, but what Sydney was really the most wary of was the statements. Rosie hadn’t told her about why she’d wanted to listen in on the Buried statement but Sydney had decided to mind her own business. It wasn’t as if it was a danger.

Or was it?

If it was, she decided, she’d deal with it when the time came.

“Lost in thought?” Katie came up behind her, raising an eyebrow while maintaining her token blank expression. Sydney and Katie had always got on fine, but Katie didn’t really seek anyone out for conversation. Except for Eva.

She didn't think about Eva.

Sydney gave a shrug in response, and Katie narrowed her eyes. “You’ve noticed too.” It was a statement, not a question, and Sydney nodded warily.

“It’s hard not to. Do you think we should say anything?” Sydney asked her. Katie shook her head.

“No.” She answered shortly.

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Katie shrugged, and her eyes seemed to be glassy for a few seconds before she sighed. “I just wanted to check. Anyway, Martin and Mr. Sims are calling the rest of the class. Apparently, they want to say a few things before we continue.”

They hadn’t been resting for long, but time didn’t truly exist in this new world, Sydney knew. She nodded Mutely, and followed Katie’s trace.

“Marcy’s what?!” Tabitha shrieked, eyes wide. Her stomach felt loopy, and her vision began to blur in a mix of relief and fear. All she could think off was Marcy’s limp body being puppetted by spiderwebs, the scent of blood and the sound of her own laughter. She shivered, hands curling around herself.

Rosie put her hand on Tabitha’s shoulder to steady her, applying pressure just forceful enough to ground her without being painful. Tabitha seemed to steady some, digging her nails into her palm to focus.

“How…how do you know this?” Cal asked quietly. They’re eyes were fearful, but a dullness had seemed to set in that made Sydney uneasy. Apathy wasn’t good, even if it hurt less. She just wanted everyone to be okay.

“Annabelle Cane.” Martin answered, beginning to explain who she was. Sydney tuned him out, looking up to the sky and scowling at the Eye. The others could joke, and hell, she did too, but she loathed it with a passion.

Not just because it was evil, enjoying their suffering, but because it was in the sky. She’d always loved the sky, more than most things really, and the Eye had the audacity to take up so much space.

“So, she’s a spider lady, basically.” Elliot simplified, and Sydney thanked him inwardly for explaining since she’d tuned out what Martin had said.

Tabitha looked pale, but she nodded slowly, eyes filled with terror. Sydney felt for her.

Jon spoke up, looking around at the class and meeting all their eyes. “It’s complicated. We don’t know how she’s alive, because she was dead and Oliver didn’t bring her back. He’d have no reason to. He suspects the Web is involved, but Annabelle said she didn’t know what was going on.”

“That could very easily be a lie.” Rosie mused, biting her lip in focus.

Jon nodded. “Hence why I’m telling you all to keep your guard up. There’s obviously something going on here and I don’t trust it one bit.”

There was a brief silence, before the smell of heat wafted into Riko’s nose.

“Is that…fire?” She said, trying to get a glimpse of where the smell was coming from. Jon’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You can smell that?” He asked incredulously.

She raised an eyebrow. “What, you can’t?”

The rest of the class warily shook their heads. Jon sighed.

“We are near the domain of the Desolation…” he mused aloud, and Tabitha seemed to perk up in surprise. Sydney eyed her warily, and she glanced over to Katie who seemed to have a similar expression of reproach.

Riko shrugged, but something glinted in her eyes. “That’s the burning one, right?”

“Destruction, pain and fire.” Martin listed, thinking to himself. Jon nodded, gesturing to him in agreement. Riko narrowed her eyes and her face fell into an expression Sydney couldn’t decipher.

Raphi chimed in with a helpful- “those are the guys who like wax play, right?”

Jon choked, coughing, and Martin patted him on the back.

“Mhm!” Tabitha said, seemingly unfazed and coming back to herself. Sydney was glad to see the color return to her face.

“That’s hot.” Elliot said, grinning at his pun and giving finger guns at Raphi. Rosie groaned, and Raphi snickered. Katie’s face was notably blank, but Riko’s had raised an eyebrow incredulously, before shaking her head in an attempt to forget about Elliot’s terrible joke.

“Hi hot, I’m dad.” Jon deadpanned, turning to Raphi, and Martin’s eyebrows raised comically.

Tabitha snorted, and the rest of the class grinned, (minus Katie, who had never smiled in her entire life, or so Tabitha said).

“Is Martin mom then?” Sydney joked sarcastically. Tabitha’s eyes lit up, and Sydney groaned, already regretting her jest.

“…Tabitha?” She asked warily.

Tabitha just batted her eyelashes, and didn’t say a word. Rosie looked amused, but chose not to comment, and Jon cleared his throat.

“Anyway, we’re going to be…smiting this avatar.”

The class began to cheer.

“PENUT MURDER JELLY TIME!” “LET’S GET THIS BREAD!” “CEASLESS WATCHER, TURN YOUR GAYS UPON THAT WRETCHED THING!” “Gaze?” “Gays” “MURDER! MURDER! MURDER!”

The class began to chant, and Jon began to get a headache.

On the walk to the Desolation’s domain, the kids pestered Jon with questions.

“Where’d you get those scars?” Tabitha asked, grabbing his arm and wobbling it a bit. He rolled his eyes, and sighed.

“Which one?” He raised an eyebrow dully.

Tabitha wasn’t fazed. “The circles.”

“…Worms.” He said, grimacing. Martin had the same expression on his face.

“Worms?” Riko said incredulously.

“What kind?” Tabitha asked, before he could answer Riko’s inquiry.

“The kind that hate me.” Jon said simply, and Cal laughed softly.

The class’ eyes widened, and they all looked around, silently communicating as if a hive mind. Martin and Jon shared an apprehensive glance.

It was unnervingly silent.

They continued their walk in silence for the next few minutes, but then Cypress started to hum. It was a childish toon, but Martin could recognize that he’d heard it before.

The rest of the class began to hum, before Tabitha started to sing.

“Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I think I’ll go eat worms.”

Martin’s eyes widened comically and Jon choked. Christ, what had he gotten into?

“What-”

“Big fat juicy ones-” Elliot continued.

“Eensie weensy squeensy ones-” Sydney chimed in lightly.

“See how they wiggle and squirm!-” Raphi sang, grinning.

“Down goes the first one, down goes the second one. Oh how they wiggle and squirm! Up comes the first one, up comes the second one. Oh how they wiggle and squirm!” The class now sang in unison, privy to Jon and Martin’s growing horror at the situation.

“Wait a second now-” Martin started, but Raphi cut him off with a grin.

“I bite off the heads, and suck out the juice, and throw the skins away!” He jeered, singing loudly.

Jon facepalmed, horrified and uncomfortable at how the class seemed to work as a hive mind just to taunt them.

The class once again began to sing in unison.

“Nobody knows how fat I grow on worms three times a day! Nobody likes me, everybody hates me I think I'll go eat worms! Big fat juicy ones, eensie weensy squeensy ones; see how they wiggle and squirm!” They were a cacophony of voices mixing horribly against Jon’s ear.

He was reminded of Grifter’s bone, and decided that their music couldn’t possibly be any worse than this.

Martin was still open mouthed, and Jon had his head in his hands.

“That was so smexy!” Tabitha said dreamily, referring to the song. Martin balked.

“No-no, wha-okay, you know what, lets keep walking, yeah?” Martin grabbed Jon’s hand and began to speed-walk ahead, tugging him along. Class 108 snickered.

“Hey, can your boss hear us right now?” Cypress asked, and Jon raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose so. Why?” Jon answer cautiously, not liking where this was going. Cypress grinned, his teeth glinting in the green light of the eye.

He turned around and started pointing at the coward in the tower. “HEY! YOU! PISS BITCH! EYEBALL DADDY’S SUGAR BABY LITTLE BITCH VOYEUR! I BET YOU’RE GAY!”

“Cypress, aren’t you gay?” Cal asked, trying to told back his laughter.

“That’s not important. What is important is that-,” Cypress stopped, pausing to think before turning to Jon, “what’s your boss’ name?”

“Jonah Magnus, but I really do not think you-”

“JONAH MAGNUS? MORE LIKE JONAH MAGNET, BECAUSE YOU REPEL ALL THE POSITIVE PEOPLE WHEN THEY SEE YOUR AWFUL FACE YOU UGLY REGENCY LOOKING ASS BITCH!” Tabitha shrieked, going to join Cypress in his epic pursuit of victory.

“How-how did you know he was from the regency era?” Martin asked, confused.

“He just gave me those vibes, ya know?” Tabitha asked, though Sydney sensed that she was a little off-put at where she’d gotten that information.

“…those vibes?” Jon deadpanned, noticeably off-put as well.

“Mhm. What do you mean he was from the regency era though?” Tabitha questioned, tilting her head curiously.

Jon sighed, and Rosie noted in her head that this was the eighty-first time he’d sighed in response to Tabitha’s questions. Typical.

“He’s a body snatcher-” Jon started, only to be interrupted by Raphi.

“Like Koh?” he asked, and Riko snickered

“Who-you know what, never mind. Sure. He basically put his eyeballs in other people’s sockets to steal their bodies and continue running the institute.” Jon explained, and a look of mild horror crossed his face as Cypress began to grin.

“So what you’re saying,” Cypress began, and Cal groaned, putting his head in his hands, “is that he put his balls in other people’s holes?”

Tabitha keeled over, snickering, and Riko flipped him off. Katie, who was as stoic as ever, sighed, but Cal could tell she looked amused.

Jon and Martin wore twin looks of horror in response to Cypress’…interesting sense of humor.

They knew it would not be the last time.

#tma #the magnus archives #teacher!jon #teacher jonathan sims #teacher!jon sims #apocalypse field trip #apocalypse field trip au #class 108

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