#and i trust erik completely with however he decides to tell this story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

Text

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!! (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names , @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up.

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew.

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture.

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love.

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames.

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in.

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him.

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though.

“That would be nice,” He said softly.

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24.

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces.

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway.

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower.

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights.

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it.

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around.

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though.

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head.

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers.

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive.

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death.

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be.

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep.

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

“What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask.

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape.

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away.

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--”

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins.

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid.

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away.

“Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed.

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that?

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top.

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside.

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.”

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made.

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it.

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun.

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet.

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways.

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it.

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine.

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back.

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad.

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet.

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear.

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do.

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him.

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face.

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime.

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen fanfiction #xmen

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years ago

Text

Check Up

[Doctor!Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A light filth

A/N: I was in the Vagina Monologues at my college and there’s one skit/story about a vagina workshop that inspired this one. Enjoy

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit waiting for your name to be called. You made sure to arrive extra early to account for a crowd or forms to fill out asking all the standard, invasive questions that any health facility is required to know. This visit was particularly nerve wrecking considering your friend’s referral to come.

One night during a girls hangout, wine and tea was spilled while discussing your personal lives. Your one friend from high school griped about how yet another Tinder date didn’t live up to their profile and couldn’t hold his own in the bedroom later to add insult to injury. Your other friend from college was a little more mum about her escapades and turned out it was for a reason you weren’t expecting.

“We decided to open up our marriage.” She says.

You both gasp involuntarily before bargaining for more information.

“Are you guys not happy? Whose idea was it? It’s only been three years!” You exclaim.

She sniffs her wine glass while taking a deep breath. “All valid questions and comments but it was my idea. In a small way, I’ve always been polyamorous.”

“I thought you were just a cheater but…” Your high school friend mutters.

“Get outta here! Those were misunderstandings of love. I enjoy the company of every partner I come across but I haven’t found the one that could be my anchor as I continue to love freely.”

“So he is really ok with this? With other men?” You ask as slow as possible to get your point across.

“Yup! Luckily he is not gross to think one sex is ok over another. It’s all the same whether I liked men or women but my heart is his always. And honestly, it’s been hot ever since we just talked about it. Like we just got a jump start!”

“Hell, I need a jump start. I wish I could make an appointment to my vagina workshop but I ain’t had the time.”

“The hell is that?” You whip around to your high school friend intrigued.

“It’s got some official title, but at the clinic on Grand, they have some workshop that teaches you how your vagina works and the BEST thing of all, how to achieve orgasm. Now when I went there some lady just told me where to find and touch and how to relax but I heard some big fella up there now is helping out and chile, if he was there when I went, my next stop woulda been the OB!”

Your college friend fans herself. “So wait wait wait. A fine man doctor teaching me how my pussy works? Why haven’t you told us before?!”

“I said he wasn’t there when I was! Plus this was before I was told you married with an asterisk. Emphasis on the risk.”

“On Grand you say?” You pull out your phone to Google.

“Mhm, that’s right. Cuz if anybody needs it, it’s you. How long has it been since you even went out with somebody? I have tried to set you up, make a dating profile for you, wingwoman a guy at the bar, with no results!”

You shrug. “Sounds like your problem. But ummmm listen. I do wanna check this out, but no way am I letting a stranger touch me like that. I just want pointers-”

“And a story to tell us afterwards, ok?!” College friend cackles along with high school friend. You roll your eyes looking over the website, praying they take your insurance. No mention of a fine ass doctor but hopefully fate worked in your favor.

Which brings you to where you are today: in a lobby with about 4-5 women looking at their phones or a magazine preparing for their treatments.

“Come on back!” The joyful nurse says, holding the door open for you. You snap back to reality as the white walls are almost blinding against the lighting as you are led to a room with a 4 above the door.

“You can have a seat while I get you settled.”

You sit on the examination table as she signs on to her computer and asks you general questions. What brings you here? When was your last cycle? Have you had issues with this? Pain during that?

“I’m really just here for informational purposes more than anything. I would like to know more about myself but I haven’t had problems.”

“Ok. And when was your last sexual experience?” She asks as she types.

“Including myself or…” You ask.

“Not including yourself.” She says with a reassuring smile.

You think and start to feel hot with embarrassment. “It’s definitely been over a year…” Or five more like it.

“Ok, that’s fine. And have you had issues achieving orgasm with a partner or by yourself?”

You mull it over. “Not...necessarily. It has been a while since I could lately, but I have been busy with work too, so…”

“Ok, that is up to you to bring it up with Doctor Stevens when he sees you. But that is the end of my questions so at this time we have a gown over there if you would like to disrobe. We offer an examination or a self examination if you so choose. Unless you request otherwise, it will be mainly superficial and informational so don’t expect a pelvic exam or anything like that, ok?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps out, closing the door behind her. The room felt more cold and quiet now that you are alone, but you waste no time in getting undressed. Your worst nightmare is to take your time and accidentally be walked in on.

The gown is clean but lacks in softness, plus your ass was hanging out no matter how tight you tied the strings around you. The paper separating your skin from the exam seat crinkles loudly as you fidget, looking over the posters of the female reproductive system and molds of various vaginas.

One catches your eye that is see through, showing the depth of the canal. You can’t help but get your phone out and take a picture. You text it to the group chat and start to search for a good meme reaction when a rapid knock startles you.

“Good afternoon, Ms.- OH!”

The deep voice behind you makes you drop your phone and it is not until you bend over to pick it up that you realize your ass is not covered in that gown. You spin around, backing up to the wall to pick it up.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in like that.” He says, face covered by a clipboard.

You put your phone in your bag and tiptoe back onto the table, cursing yourself out for embarrassing yourself.

“It’s fine, really it was all me. I shoulda stayed my ass seated.”

He pulls down the clipboard, giving a meek smile. “Frankly, it’s not the first time it happened. Shame on me.”

You feel your breath leave your body a split second when you finally see the man that got your friends so ready to come back. He did not look like the type to even be interested in medical school, but you thank God prejudices are not facts. He was the most beautiful doctor you had ever been seen by and so modern looking, with his short locs bound in a mini ponytail to the back of his head, and the sides shaved. His eyes were so youthful they made you feel silly to stare and despite his small smile, his dimples announced themselves proudly.

“Well, isn’t it, ‘fool me twice, shame on you?’” You respond, pulling your gown down and sitting up straighter.

This made him smile wider, and you thanked God generously. “I never blame a patient. It might be a HIPAA thing, but I might be making that up too.”

He pulls up a stool and sits down, checking over the notes on the clipboard. “Now, as I started to say...what brings you in?”

Your mouth began to feel dry. This was easier to discuss before, but you really don’t want to go deep into your personal life with him now. “I just...uh, wanted information on the body. You know, the female parts and what I may not know.”

He nods, looking back to you. “It says you have had trouble achieving orgasm lately?”

“WOW! I did not-”

“It’s ok!” he says, graciously interrupting. “That’s what a lot of people are here for. You aren’t alone.”

You cover your face. “This is embarrassing, why did I even come here.”

“Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I won’t ask you or bring up anything you don’t want to discuss. But I am here to help, so let’s make the most of our time here.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity on his face. A face like his can’t be completely trusted around any hot blooded woman but he is a doctor.

“Let’s start from the basics.” Dr. Stevens pulls one of the example molds from the counter and places it in front of him, facing you.

“Now a lot of people call all of this the vagina, but in actuality it is called the vulva. That includes the labia minora, labia majora, urethra and clitoris. Only when discussing your vaginal opening and inward, is it actually the vagina.”

“Ohhh, really?” You ask, leaning in for a closer look. He nods, smiling at your perceived interest. “Now where is the urethra on here…”

He points to a tiny hole that you couldn’t have found with the CIA on your side.

“I figured it was somewhere there, but you know I didn’t know there were three holes until an episode of Oprah told me when I was a teenager?”

“I have heard that before. It’s unfortunate how many women don’t know about their own bodies when they own them, right? But curriculums aren’t set up to teach it without thinking they are sexualizing things to kids.”

“But it’s not! It’s their bodies, they have those things so they should know!”

He raises a hand up to you and you smack it without thinking. The loud clap between you both sends a shock beneath you. The doctor’s charm was bringing you out of your shell little by little.

“Right. The best way of learning is demonstrative. They gotta see what you’re talking about to get it. Now I’m going to bring back what we spoke about earlier…” He points to a higher area of the vulva. “On here, the clitoris is here. It’s fairly easy to spot, it’s not hidden and that’s just to make it easier for a teacher to show. But not everyone is like this.”

“I know where mine is, so that’s fine.”

“However…”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, it’s like your little paper says. I can’t always get what I want from it.”

Dr. Stevens nods understandingly. “Ok, that’s common. Now one offer we have is an examination. I won’t have to do anything but observe.”

He stands up to reach underneath the side of the exam chair you’re sitting on to pull out a mirror on an extendable arm. “You would just view yourself here and if you have questions along the way, I’ll answer them.”

You puff your cheeks to get rid of nerves, sitting back slightly as the paper crinkles and crackles.

“I’ve been examined before. Not my first rodeo, so let's do this.”

A part of you couldn’t help but feel curious about what he may have to say about your parts as you hike your gown up. He pulls out two mini stirrups to rest your feet on as you spread your legs apart. Dr. Stevens stands next to you, adjusting the mirror to get the best visual of your vulva for you.

“Huh.” You say.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“Mine looks nothing like the diagram.” You take your hand to pull apart your lips some.

“What do you notice is different?” He asks.

“A lot,” you say with a tone of defeat. Why does every vagina depict this pink flower with symmetrical lips that barely overflow and a ready clitoris that probably distracts if you had to ride a bike.

Dr. Stevens stands beside you, hands behind his back, peering politely from you to the mirror reflection. “What specifically?”

You exhale deeply. “Right out the gate, the color is nothing like the rappers be talking about. Pink pussy this and that. It looks kind of like if you had grape bubblicious and once the flavor is gone and you toss it? Yeah….” You pull your inner lips to the side with your middle and ring finger. “And my urethra is there huh?”

He nods, adjusting the mirror for shared benefit. “Exactly right in the middle. It’s kind of small so not surprising that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Interesting.” You feel a sense of discovery within you as you actually learn a thing or two from this exercise. Looking back at the model vagina on the counter, you think of a new question.

“Ok, so the clitoris right? Why is it so difficult for me to get to it?”

Dr. Stevens crosses his arms. “Well, you might be affected by the clitoral hood. It helps to protect it but can be bothersome during arousal. So depending on what position you are in, it may take some maneuvering. Try moving it back now; take two fingers on either side and pull back.”

You do as instructed, feeling a sensation hit your exposed skin until you see the little pearl looking button that must be it. Your finger grazes it, making your legs jerk unexpectedly.

“Whoa, ok, haha. That’s it.” You laugh sheepishly, pulling your legs closer together.

He places a hand on your back encouragingly. “That’s ok! Honestly, it's best to make sure you also have feeling. Don’t be shy to try.”

You open your knees again and gently feel around for your clitoris again. You can tell you’re close but the feeling is not as intense. Embarrassment starts to affect you as you notice your concentrated expression is not at all sexy and what woman doesn’t know where to stimulate themselves.

Dr. Stevens notices the trouble, stepping away from you to get a pair of gloves, latex popping against his skin.

“It looks like you are rubbing yourself through your clitoral hood, which can be fine but I think for what issue you’re having, you would want as much surface area pleasure as possible. Now I could show you, but that’s up to you.”

Your body tenses up at the question he was asking. Seeing as he has gloves on, you don’t suspect he meant to show you on the model vagina. But that’s why you’re here, right? To get help and also to be touched by a smart, handsome, kind gentleman that you never met in a backroom: just the normal human experience.

“Uh...well, it would certainly make it easier. Sure.” You say, moving your hand back to grip the exam seat as you sat like you were in the final stages of giving birth. You repeat in your mind that he is a medical professional that means no harm and any gynecological exam gets awkward sometimes and he has also seen thousands, so yours won’t get him any more rattled than the next one.

You watch as he nods to you, confirming he received your consent. He rests one hand on your knee and the other reaches toward your now throbbing lips. Time seems to move slow until he finally makes contact, giving you a jolt again.

“Sorry. I know it’s different with a foreign hand but let me know if it’s uncomfortable.” He says kindly.

You take a deep breath and drink in his comforting words. “All good! X marks the spot, right?”

You feel his fingers slide along your inner lips, giving them an occasional gentle pull that curls your toes. “Now, your labia minora doesn’t look like the model because the model is the depiction of a white woman’s genitalia. More often, Black people won’t have that high pink color that is praised as you said. But it does not make you abnormal or less desirable.”

“No?’ You ask quietly, relaxing under his touch once again. The medical terminology is a good distraction from what is happening, so you try concentrating on that instead of your growing arousal.

He smirks, revealing those dimples that caught your eye again. “Not at all. So don’t listen to anything otherwise. You look perfect.” He looks at you as he says this, pulling and stroking at your lips slowly you can’t help the arousal building between you, breaking eye contact as soon as possible to study the mirror.

But that only makes you hotter to see him touch you as you gasp out, “Well that’s good news!”

He looks back down at your vulva again. “Now I am doing this one handed, which may not be comfortable when you attempt, but it’s easiest for me since my fingers are thick and nimble.”

“Hey, practice makes perfect...I mean, not like you have played with a lot of vagina before. Not played but examined...which I guess if you’re good at it, you would have played with many vaginas then, right?”

Dr. Stevens gives you a confused look before breaking into a chuckle. “Not ‘played’. I don’t play with anything. I work.”

And I am glad you clocked in, you thought.

“But as I was saying, the clitoral hood can be pulled back like so…”

You feel it before you can see it. His thick fingers fan your lips out so much easier than your own hands, you gasp audibly before covering it with a cough.

“Uh huh, go on.” You croak.

He appears to barely notice as he studies the reflection of your clit in the mirror, pressing his middle finger right on the peak.

“And that makes for a more accessible area in which you can arouse yourself, like so.”

He slowly circles your clit over and over again, much longer than you expected for an examination. Are you supposed to say stop, you’re unsure. Can he sue you for cumming on his hand? You feel your thighs beginning to buckle and attempt to close them but his grip on your knee was stronger than you noticed at first. Once his middle finger plunged inside of you, there is no going back. You can’t control the small mewling sounds you make as he touches you.

“You have a good amount of lubrication produced as well.” He says matter of factly, spreading your wetness along your lips. He bites down on his lower lip as he rubs your vulva.

“No shit! I mean…” You slip up, getting too comfortable but he pats your knee, flashing that winning smile.

“It’s ok, just remain relaxed, you’re almost done. But yeah, long as you keep the hood pulled back like so and set a rhythm, you should have a pleasurable experience going forward. If not, come back to me”

“I’ll cum alright,” you moan as your head falls back as you bring your hips forward, rocking against his hand for more friction. This naughty spirit enveloped you. If he ever said to stop, your train would’ve derailed, but he never did. His accommodations to your reactions sent you further down a path to unrighteous glee.

He penetrates you with two fingers, while running this thumb along your clit in tandem with the strokes. “Is that better?” He asks, stroking you faster.

You nod, throwing caution to the wind as you grab hold of his wrist, writhing against his finger before your body decides it has had enough. You felt like how chocolate tastes: lush, sweet, a jolt of energy with a smidge of guilt but unwilling to put it down.

Erik holds you close with his freehand. “That’s good, ride it out and hold on to me. I feel you tightening, you’re just about there, aren’t you?”

“Mhm!” you dig your face into his chest, breathing erratically as your climax approaches. It mattered that it was him doing it. How you got so lucky was a question you weren’t willing to confront because it just felt so good, why even think.

“Let that pretty pussy sing, you got it.” The release you feel wash over you makes you feel like world peace started and ended in your pussy and you screamed for joy. You lean back on your elbows as he rests his hand still against your mound, your walls pulse in the afterglow.

“That’s better, right? Luckily I see you have a fully functioning muscle down there.” He says before going to take off his gloves.

You shakily pull your gown down and begin to sit up. “I hope so cuz if that is what sick feels like, I don’t wanna recover.”

He snickers at your comment, writing something down on some paper, tearing off a piece, folding it to give to you.

“Now, this is something in case arousal doesn’t always come to you easily. That’s a prescription that can get the job done naturally and quickly. Take that home with you and you can order it any time you feel it may be necessary.”

You nod, getting up to put it in your pocket. “Thanks. You know my friends recommended I come here and I can’t say I am upset.”

Erik holds his clipboard in front of him, holding out a hand to you. “I’m glad you came.”

You shook it and as he left, you got dressed and drove home feeling lighter than air. You started to call your friends about it but figured you might start at the pharmacy just to see what he prescribed. If men can have a ‘get freaky’ pill, why not you. You dug out the prescription from your pocket and your mouth dropped when you read it.

Erik 555-0123, use as recommended.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy

#erik killmonger fic #shakafic

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trombonesinspace · 4 years ago

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Typhoid Mary: feminist femme fatale?

“Season 4 was going to be Typhoid Mary, Alice Eve [who played the role in Iron Fist], we were doing a kind of...I had a much different version of her than what Raven [Metzner] had done in Iron Fist. I was kind of rebooting what she was going to be like, and we were going to do a, you know, kind of a warped love story/murder mystery kind of femme fatale, but kind of a modern-day, feminist version of it, as opposed to kind of the older, sexist kind of femme fatale archetype.”

-Erik Oleson, in conversation with Steven DeKnight, SaveDaredevilCon

As I said yesterday, I have some thoughts about this! If you want some opinions nobody asked for, about a storyline that may never come to pass, you’ve come to the right place! Let’s dive in.

A femme fatale is a character type with quite a history, that can take various forms. She is always an attractive woman who brings ruin to the man who gets involved with her. But sometimes she is deliberately manipulative, while sometimes she is more a victim of circumstances. She may be evil, or she may be sympathetic/tragic. But whatever her moral alignment, she has two defining traits: sexual allure, and some form of negative consequences for the hero as a result of his involvement with her.

A woman who schemes against the hero, and succeeds in harming him, but without using feminine wiles? Not a femme fatale. The Marvel TV universe has featured several examples on different shows: Madame Gao, Mariah Dillard, Alexandra. And, ironically, the version of Typhoid Mary who appeared in Iron Fist. (We’ll get there.)

A sexy woman who tries to manipulate/damage the hero, but fails? Also not a femme fatale. I wish I could give some examples, but sadly I can’t think of any, in dramas at least. Our current media culture loves a sexy manipulator, no writer ever seems to introduce one into a dramatic story without making her succeed in her schemes, to some extent at least.

Which is unfortunate, from my perspective, because I loathe sexy manipulators. It’s a character type I really dislike, whenever I encounter her. As soon as she shows up, I know the hero is going to fall for her bullshit like a chump, and I’m going to end up respecting him less as a result. I could try to unpack my feelings about this a bit more, but that would probably make a post all on its own, so for now I’ll leave it at that.

This doesn’t mean I hate all femmes fatales—it really depends on her motivation and her behavior. If she isn’t trying to harm the hero, and it happens due to circumstances, then I might like the character, but the story becomes a tragedy. Which is not necessarily bad. Just, you know. Tragic.

Anyway! Let’s talk about Typhoid Mary.

Mary Walker is a woman with Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personalities), and high-level combat skills. In the comics, she is also a mutant with mental powers. She appeared in the Daredevil comics starting in 1988.

In this original version, her personality fragmented due to childhood abuse, leading her to vow as an adult that no man would ever hurt her again. Her personalities are: Mary, who is timid and gentle; Typhoid, who is adventurous, lusty, and violent; and Bloody Mary, who is even more violent, sadistic, and hates all men.

Mary becomes romantically involved with Matt Murdock, who is cheating on his girlfriend, Karen Page, to be with her. At the same time, Typhoid is trying to ruin him, having been hired to do so by the Kingpin. Matt can’t tell they’re the same woman, because when she switches personalities all her bio signs change (voice, scent, heartbeat, etc) so much that he can’t recognize her. (Uh, sure.) She may also be using some of her mutant powers to confuse his senses. I haven’t read the comics, I’m relying here on what I could learn from the internet.

Eventually Typhoid drops him off a bridge, but then Mary finds him and gets him to a hospital, saving him. Karen is with him when he wakes up, but he breaks her heart by calling out for Mary.

This storyline...does not thrill me. As I said, I haven’t read it, but comics writing about mental illness is generally neither nuanced nor accurate, and comics writing about women circa 1988 is also not great, by today’s standards. And comics Matt’s disastrous love life is legendary—cheating on your girlfriend is bad, Matt! Don’t do it!

I have, however, watched season 2 of Iron Fist, where we get a different version. This Mary Walker is a US army veteran, special ops, who was captured by the Sokovian military. Her personality fragmented due to the brutal abuse she received from her captors for nearly two years, until she finally escaped. She got a medical discharge from the army after being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Her personalities are: Mary, who is innocent and naive; and Walker, who is a ruthless, coolly efficient mercenary-for-hire. The existence of a third, ultraviolent personality, previously unknown to either Mary or Walker, is revealed near the end of the season.

Mary meets and befriends Danny Rand, while Walker is hired by his enemies to stalk him, and eventually capture him so they can steal his Iron Fist powers from him. She later changes sides, getting hired to bring down Davos, the season’s main villain, by Joy Meachum, his former ally.

There are clear parallels to the Daredevil comics storyline, albeit in less extreme form—Mary befriends the hero, but isn’t romantically involved with him; her more violent personality works against him and fights him, but doesn’t try to destroy him.

I enjoyed this version of the character more than I expected to, for a couple of reasons. For one, she is never the out of control, “crazy” stereotype of a person with mental illness. Both Mary and Walker are more-or-less functional adults, managing to live a strange hybrid life, aware of each other’s existence even though they don’t share memories.

But what I especially like is that she isn’t sexualized, at all. It’s incredibly rare, in my experience, to see a young, female antagonist opposing a male hero, and not have her be sexy. Older women are exempt from this obligation (see my list of examples above), but the young ones always vamp it up, and I am so tired of it. I am not opposed to sexy women, but I am very opposed to the requirement that all women must be sexy. (Unless they’re old.) Male antagonists aren’t required to be alluring, so why should women be? (Yes, I know why. I just don’t like it.)

There’s also a lot of potential YIKES in sexualizing a woman with a severe mental illness, which was caused by (among other things) repeated sexual violence. Could it be done in a way that isn’t super problematic? It’s possible, sure. Am I assuming that most television writers would give the subject the respect it deserves? NOPE!

I’m really glad they chose to just not go there. Walker is extremely good at what she does, takes no shit from anyone, and (almost) never gets riled up. After everything she’s been through, nothing in her present life has the power to faze her, and none of the men around her have the power to intimidate her. It’s pretty great!

She isn’t the least bit coy or seductive, and, equally refreshing, none of the men try to sexualize her or hit on her. Everyone Walker talks to knows she is a highly skilled professional, and they treat her accordingly. Or, when someone does disrespect her, it’s never gendered as far as I can remember, and it stops as soon as she calmly states what she’s going to do to him if it doesn’t.

As for Mary, although she has a more feminine appearance than Walker (hair down and loose, makeup), she is also not sexualized. Her friendship with Danny, who is in an established relationship with Colleen Wing, is platonic, and no one else tries to hit on her that I remember.

So this is the version of Typhoid Mary that Erik Oleson was going to reboot, into a femme fatale. Only, you know. A feminist one.

I...have some questions. What does that even mean? What does feminism mean to Erik Oleson? Let’s be real, the idea of a woman becoming an ultraviolent, sadistic man-hater as a result of sexual trauma would have been seen as feminist in some circles, back in 1988 when that version was written. So what, exactly, did he have in mind?

As I said before, sexual allure is a necessary component of a femme fatale. So she was definitely gonna be sexy. And you know now how I feel about sexy female antagonists. As for the “warped love story” part...Matt wouldn’t be cheating on Karen, since they aren’t together (please, for the love of mercy, don’t have them get together right before he meets Mary, we did that once and I do NOT want to see it again), but I am still not a fan of Matt/Mary as a couple.

Her Dissociative Identity Disorder raises some serious issues around consent, and even if the show chose to ignore that, there’s still the issue of past sexual trauma. Unless Oleson’s reworking of the character was going to include a completely different back story, a Matt/Mary relationship would mean Matt unknowingly having sex with a woman who has suffered brutal sexual abuse in her past. Not to mention, having sex with her that only one part of her personality actually wants.

Is it possible for someone with Mary’s past trauma and present mental illness to have a positive sexual relationship? In reality, of course! In the hands of writers with only a layman’s knowledge of psychology, on a show that loves to torment its hero, I wouldn’t bet on it. How do you suppose our poster boy for Catholic guilt would react when he inevitably finds out the truth?

Plus, aside from any issues around Mary herself, Matt starting a relationship with anyone other than the handful of people who already know his secret identity, means a whole new round of Matt lying to someone he cares about. Does anyone really want to see that? I know I don’t. Sure, maybe he’d tell her eventually, but how long would they have to date before he decided to trust her with the truth?

I’m not opposed to the Mary Walker from Iron Fist appearing in Daredevil, if the writers could come up with a new story for her (i.e, don’t just have her repeat all the same plot beats with Matt that she already did with Danny). But bringing her in as a femme fatale really doesn’t sit well with me. We’ve already seen Matt in an ultimately destructive relationship with a sexy, violent, morally grey woman. I really don’t want to watch Round 2: now with multiple personalities!

Of course, maybe we never will. The quote at the beginning of this post is from just a couple of weeks ago (July 25 2020), so Erik Oleson still seems to think it’s a fine idea. But obviously we don’t know yet if there will ever be a season 4, or who the show runner will be if there is. He may never get to make the story he was planning.

So yes, I realize I’m merely speculating about a completely theoretical story that may never happen. But I wanted to write this anyway. I had a strong “ugh, no” reaction to the idea of a feminist femme fatale Typhoid Mary, and I wanted to go deeper and pick apart my reasons for not liking the idea.

To the three of you who have read this all the way through to the end (this post is nearly 2000 words, yikes), thank you for indulging me! These are, as always, my own opinions, and YMMV.

#daredevil #typhoid mary #femme fatale #long post #oh look I wrote a dissertation

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luci-cunt · 4 years ago

Note

Tell me about Magneto🤭

MAY YOU CAN’T SEE IT BUT IM KISSING YOU SO PASSIONATELY RIGHT NOW

Ok so listeeennnn tooooo meeeee, okokokok, so a while ago I went on this James McAvoy bender--don’t ask--and I saw he was in the X-Men movies, whic hi haven’t watched since the Wolverine movies/ Last Stand when I was like, actually a baby. So anyways I flipped them on thinking “yeah what could go wrong?” except I watched them in the wrong order

Anyways here’s an essay on why neither Erik or Prof X was right and the actual answer would be to compromise and these movies how how because they’re both too stubborn and couldn’t it destroyed their friendship and fucked everything up.

Also the fact that X-Men: First Class is the best Villain origin story to ever cross the screen.

Ok so spoilers ahead for X-Men: Days of Future Past and X-Men: First Class

Now, it should be noted that I’m no an X-Men expert I just love these two movies.

So for some context: First Class and Days of Future Past are both kind of prequels, except DoFP is a prequel-sequel?? becuase of time travel?? I’ll explain don’t worry. The point is, they take place in the past where all the characters are younger. James McAvoy plays Professor X (who I’ll just be calling X for this whole thing), Michael Fassbender plays Magneto (aka Erik), oh and Jennifer Lawrence plays Mystic--who will be appearing in this essay XDD.

Alright so first of all have a plot summary: DoFP is about Wolverine getting sent back in time so he can convince a younger Prof X to stop Raven (aka Mystic) from getting caught by this guy Trask who then uses her DNA to create super weapons that irradiate all mutants. The current future Wolverine is in, he, prof X, Magneto, and a few other mutants are trying their best to survive but it’s a losing battle and their only hope is to literally change the past.

This one takes place after the events of First Class, which I will now explain.

So in First Class a younger Prof X and Magneto team up to find and recruit bb mutants to X’s school because the government wants to use Mutants to help fight the Russians (oh head this takes placee in the 1960′s right before the Cuban Missile Crisis). This is essentially a Magneto origin story and also--in my opinion--the best villain origin story to ever cross the screen.

OK so now some details on our main characters:

Magneto/ Erik Lehnsherr: a literal holocaust survivor who’s only goal in the begining of the story is hunting/ killing nazi’s, specifically one nazi who tortured him specifically and I will get into him later don’t worry.

Professor X: super smart rich white boy with a heart of gold but also enough naivete to make a lamb look like a Stephen King character.

Already you can see very stark differences between the two of them. Erik is set up as being a staunch pessimist while X is a vivid optimist, and that makes sense. X’s grown up sheltered and never wanting for anythign while Erik suffered a trainwreck of the greatest traumas in human existence hitting him over and over and over again from like age fucking 9.

Ok also tehre’s J-Law’s character Raven, who is a mutant that can change her skin to look like anythign she wants it to but her actual form is blue/ scaly/ “not pretty” (bullshit but ok). She met X when she broke into his house one night to steal some food and then they became friends, their relationship will become important later but for now that’s all u need to know.

ok so anyways, in the begining of First Class Erik is hunting + killing Nazi’s, specifically looking for this one called Schmidt because when Erik was little he and his family were carted away to a concentration camp where Schmidt witness Erik use his metal bending powers and decided to “train” him. aka physically/ mentally abuse him for years. The whole thing starts with Schmidt trying to get Erik to lift a metal coin with his mind, when he can’t (because he’s a child who didn’t even know he had his powers until literally hours ago) Schmidt puts his mother’s life on the line and when he still can’t Schmidt kills her. This sends Erik it’s a rage and he crushes some nazi heads but then Schmidt is still standing and mentions how “oh gotcha, so it’s rage and pain that’s the key to your powers huh?” anyways this tidbit and the coin will become important later trust me--

Meanwhile Prof X is graduating from Oxford/ generally being an idiot pretty boy. He’s a telepath who knows about his powers and has used them from an early age. He also wrote some big paper on mutants, which gets the attention of an FBI agent who witnesses the villains being mutants and wants his advice

However, the villains just so happen to be Schmidt, who’s going by “Shaw” now, so when X and the agents catch up to him Erik is already there and on a mission to murder his ass. Some bs happens, Erik tries to pull a submarine out of the water but can’t (T-T this will be important) and X jumps into the water to stop him because the mental stress is literally killing him.

That’s how they meet.

It’s important to note: up until this point, Erik didn’t know there were other mutants, so meeting X, who’s friends with Raven, is kind of a big deal for him. He and X become very fast friends and also have a very homoerotic montage where they become dads for a bunch of mutant teenagers, because they realize they can use X to track all these baby mutants, collect them, and train them so they don’t grow up fearing their powers.

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Anyways, the other thing about this is that now that Erik has this newfound group of people that are just like him, he’s opening up, and X is helping him realize he’s actually so much more powerful when he taps into happy memories rather than fueling himself on pain and rage. This scene always makes me sob oh my god--

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Also, fellas--is it gay to “access the brightest cortex” of your homies memories and remind him that hate and pain are not good motivators before reminding him that he has good memories he can draw on and showing him that his life has not been entirely painful?

YEs, the answer is yes are u shitting me??

ok so anyways--something to note about this is that X and Erik are both very protective of all their new kids, but Erik is especially so. I’m going to be getting into this more but just tab thsi thought for later :)

Now, the plot’s kicking up a bit, because it’s at this point that Erik and X capture one of Shaw’s (aka the nazi’s) main lackies and they question her until she gives them the info that Shaw’s planning on using the Cuban Missile Crisis tensions to start a nuclear war to wipe out all humans so that only mutants survive in the new world.

Obviously they want to stop him, but also, you can kind of tell that Erik is not totally against this plan, which only gets to be more later but that’s for later.

Right now I wanna take a quick break to talk about Raven--aka Mystic, aka J-Law. She and X were childhood friends and she kind of clung to him because she doesn’t have family/ anyone she can really be herself around besides him.

X insistently says throughout the movie he sees her as a sister, but it’s kinda obvious she’d be down to fuck. She has this big plotline where she keeps trying to get X to understand why it’s so frustrating for her to have to be using energy to look “human.” Because her natural form is the one with the blue skin. X doesn’t understand this because his power is easy to hide, it’s simple for him to just fake-human and have no one be any wiser, Raven, however, doesn’t have that luxury and when she tries to explain this to X it just flies over his head, insisting she hide her natural self to better fit in if that’s what she really wants.

Queue Erik, who comes in as a king of self love. He’s pretty blunt about it, but his point is basically “you’re wasting energy by constantly pretending you’re something you’re not--stop” and she responds essentially with “yeah but then no one will like me” to which he responds “then make them.”

Raven’s relationship with both the boys is used through both First Class and DoFP to really highlight their faults. X believes humans and mutants can coexist but he thinks we go about doign that by completely ignoring the pages of history of abuse mutants have suffered--and it’s mostly because he hasn’t experienced it.

Erik on the other hand will do everything and anything he possibly can to protect his new family/ people, and in his head that means exterminating any and all threats. By the end of the movie--humans become one of those threats.

The point of this whole ramble is that: they both represent utter opposites, BUT, X’s blind optimism and Erik’s blind pessimism are equally bad.

Ok so back to plot for a second to prove this.

Shaw is revealed to be a mutant himself and he also has a helmet that can block telepathy. (yes it’s the magneto helmetjasjd;fkjaskl;dfjasldkj jsut wait).

His plan’s complicated but basically: he’s going to poke America and Russia until they pop and incite a nuclear war. And it works. The whole pre-climax of the film sees X, Erik, Raven, and the other mutants all working double time to stop Shaw’s plan (AND IT INVOLVES ERIK SUCCESSFULLY PULING A SUBMARINE OUT OF THE WATER!!! BECAUSE NOW HE’S USING HAPPINESS INSTEAD OF ANGER/ PAIN!!!).

Anywho, they’re doing all this, but then some bullshit happens, the plane they’re on crashes oh and -- yeah there’s this part where Erik uses himself as a seatbelt for X it’s fantastic but anyways--

This is finally the climax of the film.

Also possibly the greatest scene in film history in my humble opinion.

Because listen--in order to stop Shaw they need the helmet off of him so that X can telepathically freeze his ass and they can arrest him or whatever. So they split up--Erik rushes into the wreckage to find Shaw and X stays behind ready to freeze the guy as soon as the helmet comes off but--

Well, vengence is just too tempting.

So when Erik gets Shaws helmet off, X freezes the guy, and he’s ecstatic, at least until he realizes Erik plans on killing Shaw.

He’s pleading with Erik because this is vengence and he can’t chose that but Erik just puts on the helmet and--taunts Shaw, pulling out the coin Shaw taunted him with all those years ago and in a mimickry of the game Shaw forced him to play as a child and killed his mother over--he slowly floats the coin at Shaws head, telling him “I’m going to count to ten, and all you have to do is move.”

But he can’t--because X is holding him--and that’s the point, Erik wants him as helpless as he was, and X can’t let his hold on Shaw go because that would mean putting Erik in danger but he’s also in Shaws head so he feels the coin go through his head as though Erik was doing it to him and the fucking cinematography in this scene is so fuaksdjf;laksjd;fjasd;lkfjadsl;asdjf;ljL:DKJFL:SDKJFL:D KFUCKKKKK

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This scene is cinematic perfection don’t fucking lOOK at me unless you agree.

T-T and then, it only gets worse, because now Erik’s finally finished his original purpose--killing the man who killed his mother and ruined his life--and now he’s got a new one, aka protecting his new family aka the mutants.

AND HE’S ONLY PROVEN RIGHT THAT HUMANS ARE A THREAT BECAUSE THEY TURN AND TRY TO KILL ALL THE MUTANTS IN THE PLANE CRASH AND JSUT--

And so he stops all the missiles flying their way, and turns them around on the humans and X has to stop him but he’s not listening and the rawest fucking line in the whole movie comes when X says

“There’s hundreds of men on those ships--innocent men. They’re just following orders!”

And Erik simply replies, “I’ve been at the mercy of men ‘just following orders’--never again.”

And then he goes to blow up the shipsthen one of the other characters goes to shoot Erik and he deflects the bullet wtihout thinking right. into. X’s. back.

Paralysing him.

And just akjd;fjasdflkjasd;lfkj this scene speaks for itself

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Listen just--akjdsf;ljasdlk jguys this movie has no right being this good.

And then the movie closes off with X and Erik literally begging one another to just see it their way--because they both want so badly to be on the same side but they’re too stubborn and they refuse to see compromise and just ajkdf;lja;sdkfja;sdljkfsadlkf

Ok I realize now that I barely talked about DoFP but this is already so long. The major things I was going to bring up was teh absolutely fantastic bitter exes energy that McAvoy and Fassbender bring to that movie it’s excellent but also the fact that X is literally the only person Erik goes out of his way not to kill despite standing directly in the way of Erik’s goal.

Like, you remember my whole deal with Raven??? yeah that’s x10 in DoFP (which takes place quickly after this movie) yeah so her and Erik are close, and shown to be close, but the second he thinks she endangers his fam he literally 180′s so quick and tries to straight up murder her.

BUT HE FUCKING BENDS THE BULLET AROUND X’s HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! X!!!!!!!!!! WHO’S LITERALLY 100% AGAINST HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST

Ok, that’s all. By the way I don’t want to like, up your expecations too much because I actually kind of hate X-Men: First Class almost as much as I love it?? it’s very..... of it’s era, and cheesy, and dumb--but fucking magneto you guys holy SHIT

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songficsbyrissi · 6 years ago

Text

Jealous (T’Challa x Reader)

“It’s not your fault that they hover I mean no disrespect It's my right to be hellish I still get jealous” - Nick Jonas

A/N: Warnings: Nothing really. Our king is jealous and is not that great at hiding the green eyed monster.

Click on bolded words to see how characters and/or things look!

T’Challa Udaku couldn’t hide the pure irritation in his face as he watched you, his wife, converse with Amare, King of Maligeria. The man practically eye fucking you and you were oblivious to his advances. Or maybe you liked another man flirting with you? Maybe you liked him too! “Brother....” Shuri tried to get his attention but failed because his eyes wouldn’t leave you two. “Brother, are you ok? I can hear your teeth grinding in your mouth.” T’Challa cleared his throat, sparing his sister a glance. “I am fine , Shuri.” He grabbed a glass of sparkling cider and sipped, hoping she’ll drop it. “Yes until you saw Y/N talking with that handsome king over there.” She giggled at her fuming brother who glared at her, causing her to sigh. “Come on, T’Challa! You can not seriously be jealous!” He almost spat out his drink. “Me??? Jealous??? That is preposterous!”

“Brother, it is ok to be a little jealous. It’s a normal human emotion. It shows that you really love her and you know she can do way better than you.” T’Challa attempted to scowl at his sister again but she made her way out his sight. He looked back at you and ceased his inner seething as you walked up to him with the other king right behind you. Maybe his eyes were deceiving him, but he could’ve sworn he was watching your posterior as you walked. The audacity of this fool. “T’Challa, this is King Amare of Maligeria. He was just telling me how he is interested in a trade agreement between his country and Wakanda.” You stated cheerfully. Amare’s eyes stayed on you and T’Challa was burning holes through him until you looked at him and he tried to drop his murderous expression. Emphasis on tried because he was failing at it. “I was talking to your lovely queen and was hoping I could meet with you, King T’Challa tomorrow afternoon.” Amare spoke, sparing the annoyed king a glance then his eyes were trained back on you. You smiled at him and at that moment, he wanted to grab you by the ass and tongue you down while staring at Amare to let him know you were all his. “I’m sorry but I will not able to. I have a very important meeting tomorrow. Perhaps we can meet another day.” T’Challa silently hoped they couldn’t. “Unfortunately no. My last day in Wakanda is tomorrow and then I must go back to my country. I guess this was not meant to be.” Amare sighed in disappointment but then beamed at you. “But Her Majesty may take your place.” T’Challa’s face dropped at his suggestion. He played right into his fucking hand. He was hoping you had something going on and would decline. You shyly smiled but excitement was all over your face. “I would love to!” T’Challa fought to mask his fuming. He did not see that rejection backfiring on him. Damn him. The devil, aka King Amare, was working hard so he shall work harder. “My love, I am not sure about you attending this meeting with King Amare.” T’Challa spoke with concern, watching you get ready to meet with Amare. You were looking too good to be meeting with him. He desperately wanted to strike the man with his Panther habit and he hasn’t even seen you yet but your husband knew he would ogle you intensely. That thought really pissed him off. You sighed as you tried to put your gold dangling earring in. “Baby, I must go. You have to meet with the Avengers which is very important and this trade meeting is just as important but unfortunately you can not be at 2 places at once. That’s why you have a queen for.” You shyly smiled at him through the mirror and he looked away sighing. “I know but this meeting with the Avengers can be rescheduled.” “T’Challa, it is too important to be rescheduled. You know that.” “It’s just that.....this King Amare.....he’s very arrogant and pushy and a lot of other things. I feel like he will be unprofessional with you and-“ T’Challa pauses before he could reveal the whole truth of what he’s feeling but he glanced up at your face and it seems like you already figured it out. “I see what this is. You do not trust me.” You stated solemnly folding your arms. His eyes widened. “My love, of course I trust you! It’s just that-“ “You don’t think I can handle my first meeting as queen without you there. I can do this. You don’t have to worry about me messing it up! Wakanda is my country as well!” T’Challa heard a record scratch in his head. That’s what you think? Not that he was jealous, but that he didn’t trust you to make a decision on his country’s behalf? Your country’s behalf? He grabbed your hands staring into your eyes. “My queen, I trust you with everything inside of you. Please do not think I do not. I just do not trust Amare. He seems very sneaky and I just don’t want to lose you to him.” He cleared his throat and began to mess up his words. “N-not lose you t-to him, i m-mean-“ You cupped your husband’s face and pecked his lips. “I know, my king. You are just doing what a husband does and look out for your wife. I do appreciate that, love. I do but I can handle this and Amare will not fool me. Believe that.” He wanted to smile but that jealousy he had wouldn’t allow him to. Amare was handsome and charming. Who’s to tell that you wouldn’t leave your clumsy husband for that charming king?

“I don’t blame you for being jealous-“ “I AM NOT JEALOUS!” T’Challa roared cutting Erik off which caused the latter to snort while taking a sip of Wakandan liquor. “Jealous, envious, pick whatever fucking word you want, nigga. I ain’t no damn thesaurus. But you are jealous which makes sense because no homo, that king is a handsome ass nigga. If I was a girl...” Erik opened his arms wide. “Legs wide open to that nigga but no homo though.” T’Challa wanted to smack him hard. “You are not helping, N’Jadaka.” Erik put the bottle down. “But I’m about to. Listen. If you’re that fucking worried he gonna take your wife, then just spy on them.” “I’m not sure about that and I do have this meeting with the Avengers about this-“ “That nigga is about to fuck your wife and you worried about some damn Avengers.” T’Challa knew Erik was clearly doing too much and clearly you wouldn’t cheat on him. However, that emotion called jealously was a strong bitch. Shuri pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wait tell me this again. You want me to what?!” T’Challa groaned loudly doing the same gesture as his sister. He thought his request was clear and did not think it was unreasonable at all. So he repeated it. “I would like you to upgrade my panther suit to give me the ability to turn invisible.” “Why?” “Because-“ T’Challa hesitated in explaining himself. How did he not expect the genius mind of his 18 year old sister to question why he suddenly needed this new ability? Because her mind was so genius, she figured it out herself. “T’Challa, you are not seriously trying to spy on your wife! Y/N loves you! Way too much, I would say!” When he glared at his sister, she put her hands up. “I’m just saying. I do not see what is so great about you. Anyway, you have no need to spy on her! Don’t you trust her?” “I do trust her! I don’t trust that Amare and I will need to protect her if he tries anything.” Shuri snorted as she observed one of her blueprints. “Brother, Y/N is a grown woman. She can handle herself. You must’ve forget she used to be one of the War Dogs. Who is the idiot that gave you that idea?” “Yo Princess!” Erik’s voice boomed throughout the lab. Shuri sighed shaking her head, watching Erik approach. “And here comes the idiot.” She glances her brother. “Why do you insist on listening to him? Things always turn left when you listen to him. Remember when you were trying to court her?” T’Challa thought back to how disastrous it was when he took his cousin’s advice on asking you out. Long story short, it was the worst advice out of all the others and it still amazes him to this day how he managed to get a chance with you, let alone marry you. Erik used his context clues to figure out what his two cousins were talking about and scoffed. “Stop living in the past, Princess. I’ve grown since then.” “You are telling him to spy on his wife. WHERE IS THE GROWTH?” Erik sucked his teeth and shook his head. “You see the problem is that you too close minded. I’m thinking outside of the box. If he doesn’t do this, the only other way he can win this is to suck her titty right in front of him.” The royal siblings gave him perplexed looks and he sucked his teeth loudly. “Think about it. Would you continue pursuing a female if a nigga walked up to her and sucked her titty right in front of you? I wouldn’t!” T’Challa continued to furrow in perplexity as he turned to his sister. “Shuri, please give me this upgrade.” Shuri sighed deeply in defeat. She was completely against this but seeing the pleading in her brother’s eyes urged her to do it. When she did, she continued to voice how much of a bad idea this was but T’Challa didn’t want to hear it. He just wanted to hurry up, spy on this meeting, and stop Amare in whatever he plans to do. Amare decided to meet with you in a private VIP section of one of Wakanda’s 5 Star restaurant. A place T’Challa was planning on taking you but the bastard beat him to it. He fucking knew it. T’Challa didn’t tell him but he knew the bastard knew. The guards stood outside of the section which annoyed the king because they were not present in case Amare did something to you. He got this but someone is getting fired for this. During the course of dinner, the topic remained on the trade and T’Challa was beginning to feel ridiculous as he stood behind you, completely invisible and listening to the conversation. Maybe he was wrong about Amare. “I’m glad I was about to meet with you, Her Highness. You are a wonderful queen. T’Challa is a very blessed man. I’m surprised he let you alone in this meeting.” “Thank you, King Amare. He was a little nervous about me doing this by myself but he trusts me. We trust each other.” He swallowed feeling his heart drop at your words. He was feeling like the ultimate idiot right now. Jealously is a bitch of an emotion. “I just pray Bast blesses with a queen like you.” Amare says slowly as he moves closer to you. He fucking knew it! He wasn’t wrong about Amare after all! He was right! Enraged, T’Challa dashes forward to push you two apart. You and Amare were shocked and confused at the sudden force between you two. T’Challa noticed a ticking in his suit and panicked. “What is that?” You asked looking for the source of the ticking sound He had to make a hasty escape. T’Challa attempted to jump over the table but his foot got caught in the tablecloth, causing the table to collapse with plates shattering and food and drinks spilled. The guards stormed in, hearing all the commotion and asked if the royals were alright. All of the sudden gasps were heard and T’Challa froze. “......King T’Challa?” Amare questioned and he cursed in his head realizing that he was now visible. “T’CHALLA UDAKU!” Your voice boomed throughout the section. He turned his head to glance up on you. You were standing over him with your arms folded, fuming. He deactivated the helmet part and sat up. “My love-“ “Why would you-how could you?” Your face displayed pure anger but your voice was cracking. You were hurt. He could tell that he hurt you and he felt his heart break. You turned to your guards. “Let’s go. I need to be away from him right now.” “Y/N, please-“ T’Challa attempts to catch up to you but slips on a water puddle. Okoye stays behind to help the king as the rest of the Dora’s leave with you. She helped him up as she shook her head in disappointment. “With all due respect, my king-“ T’Challa sighed deeply holding his hand up. “Yes I know. I’m an idiot.” When T’Challa arrived to the palace, he wanted to see you to apologize and explain himself. Once the jealously passed over, he realized what he did was completely moronic and you had every right to be pissed at him. A few hours had passed since the incident and he still hasn’t seen you. You weren’t present at the Avengers meeting and now he was having a meeting with the council. You weren’t present to that either. When the meeting was over and the members, he had his back turned when you stepped into the room. He turned around and gulped hard not knowing what’s about to happen. Were you going to scream? Slap him? Or even worse, stay silent? You still haven’t said anything and the silence was killing him. “I’m sorry, sithandwa sam.” You looked him in the eyes and sighed deeply. “I just don’t see why you would marry me if you think I couldn’t do my job as queen.” “It’s not-“ “Do you realize how embarrassing that is? My husband doesn’t trust me to discuss international affairs without him that he takes drastic measures to spy on me! That is humiliating, T’Challa! Not only do you not trust me, another king and other people see that too! Why would you do that to me? Why?!” “Because Amare is good looking and suave. I was afraid...” T’Challa trailed off but then cleared his throat, knowing the next words he was going to say were silly. “I feared that with his flirting, you would realize how more attractive he is and.....leave me.” He expected you to either get mad at his insecurity or laugh in his face calling him silly, but you did neither. Instead, you just looked puzzled which he did not expect at all. Your eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. “Why would he want to flirt with me?” “Why wouldn’t he? You are a beautiful woman with a body to match! How did you not see him flirting with you?” You shrugged. “I just didn’t see why. I’m not as beautiful as the other queens and princesses that come around here . I mean you see that, don’t you?” You stared down at your fingers exhaling deeply. T’Challa had no idea you felt this way. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman he ever met and couldn’t thank Bast enough that she blessed him with you. It hurt that you didn’t see what he saw. He sat next to you, holding your hands making you make eye contact with him. “Y/N, I love you so much. I love everything about you. Please do not feel this way. And to answer your question, I see the other women but I only have eyes for you. No one else but you.” Your forehead touched your husband’s as you two made eye contact. You began to giggle a little bit. “I guess we were both jealous.” You leaned your head back. “But I wasn’t as bad as you. Seriously? An suit that turns you invisible? Shuri invented it but there’s no way it was her idea. Who gave you that stupid idea?” “Awww I guess the invisible suit worked! Look at y’all cup caking and shit!” Erik’s loud voice boomed throughout the conference room as he flashed his gold grills. “Don’t let me interrupt! I just left my phone here. I’ll be out in 5 seconds.” “And there’s my answer.” You said when Erik left the room and shook your head turning to T’Challa. “Seriously? I don’t know why you keep listening to him.” He sighed. “I don’t know but what I do know is that I am sorry, Entle.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry too. How could you think I would fall for Amare? You are suave too.....You know, when you are not clumsy and freezing.” T’Challa gave you a look which caused you to laugh. “Listen we may have been together for a long time now, but you still make me freeze, my love.” You felt your cheeks flush. “I love you. You are all I want, my idiotic, handsome, sweet king.” He kissed you softly. “How shall I make it up to my lovely queen?” “Mhmmm I don’t know.” You had your finger on your chin in pretend thought and pecked his lips slowly and sensually. “Maybe if you follow your queen to the bedroom, something will come to you.” You bit your lip, throwing a wink in his direction as you walked away swaying your hips. T’Challa’s thick eyebrows rose to his hairline as he followed you out, but was interrupted on his journey to the bedroom by his cousin. “Look at y’all all in love and shit again! Anyway, are you busy, T?” “Yes I am busy.....really busy. Listen, do not let anyone bother me for the rest of the night and tomorrow morning too because I’m really busy.” He attempted to move past Erik but he interrupted again, causing T’Challa to be even more frustrated than he currently was. Erik raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Rest of the night and tomorrow morning? Nigga, what are you so busy doing?” “Producing an heir!” T’Challa snapped pushing Erik’s arm away. “Now....how do you say? Ahh yes. Stop blocking the cock!” “Nigga it’s cock blocking!” Erik shouted after T’Challa who was making haste to your shared bedroom. Erik scrunched up his face in disgust and muttered to himself. “Cock. I fucking hate that word.”

Taglist: @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @oceanscorazon @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @brattywriters-anonymous@cancerianprincess @blowmymbackout @ljstraightnochaser @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14 @vibranium-chakra@sociallyawkward18@chefjessypooh @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @slimmiyagi @imasmille @ashanti-notthesinger @thehomierobbstark @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @quietstorm-73 @90sinspiredgirl @lewatigress @kaykay0829 @queennanayaa @mysticbrownie @holy-minseok @queenof-wakanda @vibranium-chakra @slimmiyagi @yourfavoritefavorite @destino1

#black panther #black panther fic #black panther x reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther fanfic #black panther fluff #T'Challa #T'Challa Udaku #t'challa x you #t'challa fanfiction #t'challa x reader #T'Challa x black reader #t'challa udaku x reader #t'challa fluff #t'challa fic

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kar3npage · 5 years ago

Text

Measurements

New chapter of Sewing Scissors and Throwing Knives is up now! You can read it from the beginning here

“You must be Neil! Nicky and Matt have told me so much about you,” the woman says warmly as she bustles out of the back of the store. “This is Abby,” Nicky says proudly, like Neil wouldn’t have been able to assume as much from the measuring tape hanging around her neck and the fact that she knew his name. Neil gives her an unconvincing smile and a brief handshake. He had taken the drive to control his stress, and he’s relieved that his hands aren’t shaking anymore. “How about you get us all a coffee?” Abby says to Nicky, who takes up the offer enthusiastically. Neil tries not to show how thrilled he is that he doesn't have to convince Nicky to leave. Abby leads Neil to the back of the store where expensive looking private rooms wait. The door is locked behind them, and Neil can’t decide whether that makes him feel more comfortable knowing no one else will interrupt or caged. He avoids looking into the three mirrors that sit at slightly different angles against the far wall. There are two comfortable but elegant looking chairs sitting opposite the mirrors with a table between them. Books of the companies newest collections sit prettily on the table, the top one open to a page showing a photo from the last show. Abby puts on a pair of glasses and pulls out a notebook, smiling at Neil all the while. “Have you ever been made a custom suit before?” Neil shakes his head no. He’s tempted to lie and say that he has just to make himself look a bit more experienced, but there’s no way that anyone would believe him. “Alright, today won’t take very long. I just need you to take off your shirt so that we can get the most accurate measurements for your upper torso.” Neil gives Abby a blank look. He knew this was coming the entire time, but his skin still crawls hearing her say that. “Can’t we get the measurements without removing any clothes?” Abby’s smile has turned sympathetic. Neil eyes go to the door without even thinking about it.

“Many people are uncomfortable at first, but please understand that I’ve been trained to be completely impartial about this. It’s just about the measurements, nothing else.” Neil thinks about warning her about the scars first. But he can’t think of any words to explain his hesitance. Taking off his loose shirt with jerky movements, he moves to ensure that he won’t be able to see the mirrors while Abby works. He looks up just in time to see the shock on Abbys face, before it smooths out to a carefully concealed darkness. She doesn’t say anything, and Neil can feel himself warming up to her slightly. As promised, the measurements don’t take long and Abby’s hands are impersonal and professional. The room is mostly silent, with her muttering certain numbers under her breath before she writes them down. By the time Nicky gets back, Abby is chatting to Neil about the workings of the stores and how custom fittings go. Nicky looks absolutely thrilled at the slightly more relaxed set to Neils shoulders and expression and he plies them with pastries along with their coffee.

Nicky tells Neil about his fiance, Erik, who is currently in Germany, while they drive back to the atelier. Neil isn’t sure if Nicky actually enjoys his company or if he’s just happy to have someone who will listen, but Neil is starting to enjoy the lively man. It’s comforting being with someone who is fine with holding a one sided conversation, who doesn’t push Neil to say anything more than what he wants to.

No one mentions their extended lunch absence, but all of the little comments about Neils clothing makes him think that they all know where he was. Andrew had given him an inscrutable look when they got back, but he hasn’t seen him since. Until now, that is. Neil is standing outside of the door that he’s seen Andrew enter countless times but so far has never been invited in, one fist raised to knock. He isn’t sure why, but his gut is telling him to stay away from the room. It’s like barging into a bedroom - it’s personal, and no one should enter a personal space when they haven’t been invited. Neil shakes away the discomfort and knocks lightly on the door. He still isn’t sure why he was chosen for this errand. Kevin had barely hung up the phone before shoving a portfolio into Neils hands and shoving him in this direction with orders to do whatever he possibly could to get Andrew to do whatever was in the portfolio. When Matt had asked what he was doing, he gave him a pitying look and advised him to just tell Kevin that he wouldn’t. No need to actually ask. As much as he didn’t say, Neil actually did like it when other employees gave him advice. This was just a piece of advice that he would not be following. Andrew gave Neil a complex set of emotions and he still couldn’t tell if Andrew was going to cause him problems while he was here. He had seen how he was always hovering near Kevin, and the stories about how protective he was over Nicky and Kevin. He had read the stories himself about the court mandated drugs through university, and the attack that got him off of them. Despite the constant warnings that team members gave Neil, he still wanted to figure out Andrew for himself. The door opens gently and Neil is faced with a woman with chin length, rainbow dyed hair. She gives him an angelic smile and a feeling of distrust somewhere in his ribs. “We haven’t met yet, I was at the London store for a few weeks to help sooth a customer. I’m Renee, the other embroiderer,” she holds out a hand for Neil to shake. He does, and drops it as soon as he can. Movement over her shoulder draws Neils eye to an amused looking Andrew. He raises one eyebrow at Neil, who scowls back at him. “What can we do for you?” Renee asks. Her voice is soft, but there is something in there that Neil doesn’t trust. He has a similar note in his voice, even when he’s trying very hard to hide it. He’s also heard it in Andrews voice. Plus, the betting that Renee and Andrew are dating doesn’t help Neils view of her. “Kevin wants you to do something for him,” Neil says, still looking at Andrew over Renee’s shoulder in order to avoid her knowing eyes. Andrews mouth turns up infinitesimally. It’s not a friendly expression, more a subtle baring of teeth. A warning. “Well, I’m having lunch with Allison soon. Want me to bring you back anything?” Renee asks Andrew. She barely waits for him to shake his head before slipping around Neil and out the door. She smiles brightly at them as she walks away. “Tell Kevin that a new messenger doesn’t make it a new answer.” Neil shrugs. “Okay. Well, that’s all I came for.” He takes a moment to look around the room before leaving. Curiosity has been eating at him ever since he started working here at what this room might look like. The back wall is entirely window with a comfortable, worn chair near it. In front of the chair is a simple standing embroidery hoop with a half finished project on it. There’s another set up like that in the other corner, and a weaving loom against one wall. The opposite wall is covered by a bookshelf that is entirely filled with books. Neil likes the rest of the atelier. He likes the hum of machines and conversation, the scent of fabric dust, the windows that fill the rooms with sunlight. However, he can say with certainty that he’s never felt so comfortable in a space as he feels in this room. Biting back a sigh, Neil starts turning to go back to Kevin and his stressed anger. “That’s it?” Neil turns back around to face Andrew. If he didn’t know better, he would think Andrew looked surprised. “You said no. What else should I do? Give you a song and a dance?” Andrew narrows his eyes at Neil. “I’ll do it. But only if you come with us to Edens on Friday. A favour for a favour.” “Kevin won’t be happy about that.” “Kevin is coming with.” Neil blinks in surprise. “Fine.” Andrew holds out his hand for the portfolio then flicks his fingers as a dismissal. Neil is almost back in Kevins office when he realizes that he isn’t even sure what was in the portfolio.

#fashion desiger au #fanfic #aftg fanfic #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #matt boyd #abby winfield #renee walker #andreil #ao3 #sewing scissors and throwing knives #my writing

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cryptoriawebb · 5 years ago

Note

WonderWolf + 2, 68

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

I have been having sooo many Wonderwolf feels lately. I miss them 3 They are perfect.

2. Royalty AU and 68. Heroic sacrifice.

Honestly I think these two can be combined XD I'm going to borrow elements from the Wonder Woman movie. Diana is a princess in an isolated kingdom: everyone adores and respects her and while she’s happy she feels the pull from the wider world. She isn’t sure why as she’s never been beyond the kingdom’s boundaries but something tells her there is more awaiting her life. Cue a disheveled and battle-damaged stranger who stumbles into their land. He’s disoriented and angry and has to be subdued by several soldiers before he finally passes out. The stranger is captured and kept in a holding cell (which is actually quite clean in Themyscira) until he awakens.

While the kingdom is run by women there are men among the common people so Diana has seen them before. She’s just never seen one like this. To everyone’s surprise, the stranger’s wounds heal overnight. When questioned about this as he awakens he’s immediately on his guard and surprises everyone again - revealing what look like bone claws coming from his hands.

The man’s name is Logan and through a series of aggressive growling and accusations reveals that this “precious little kingdom” is sitting on the outskirts of a wider war. Logan was a soldier-turned-rebel and scout when his home turned on people like him. He belonged to a group for quite a while, protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves and bringing supplies when he had a chance. However recently this underground society was discovered and sent running. Some made it out, some did not. It made it all the worse when he discovered his own brother may have had a hand in this. Racked with anger and guilt, Logan left the small group he was able to save, entrusting them to a friend (and his partner) who possessed psychic abilities. He argued with said partner before he left, insisting there was a place *somewhere* people with “powers” (that probably have a different name in this story) might be safe.

*Logan is older than he lets on and this is why he knows this. His memories are war-torn but his instincts hold firm.

Logan’s prickly aggression turns off many of Diana’s friends and her mother’s council. However, Diana can see the pain in his eyes and tries to lobby for him. While she nearly sways her mother, she can see Hippolyta’s hesitation. Taking matters into her own hands, Diana decides she will talk to Logan herself.

*I’m sure her mother is aware of the broader world, although people with powers were thought to have died out a long time ago. Perhaps they did for a while...

Long story short the two of them manage to reach something of a civil ground. Diana starts to see that honest side she suspected - still gruff of course but as they get to know each other the weight Logan’s situation has on him becomes clear. They don’t trust each other completely but it’s a start. It’s also the start of a spark between them, although they won’t acknowledge it.

Much like the movie, Diana and Logan eventually sneak out of the kingdom together. They are given chase by her mother’s soldiers and there is a scuffle -- Diana even holds Logan back from attacking them.

The journey is long and they’re left with a lot of time to talk. Logan is reluctant to talk but Diana learns how to communicate with him. He’s the sort that lets out his feelings/information through bursts of frustration and what sounds like self-loathing. Diana definitely starts to sympathize with him more--until he tries to belittle her kingdom and her people. She doesn’t agree with all of their decisions but knows there’s a reason for them. It’s very possible she and Logan get into a brief fight because of it. He probably starts it. You know it ends with her pinning him to either the ground or a tree or something. The sparks return and they’re harder to ignore. Logan is impressed by her and Diana’s heart bleeds a little more.

At some point Logan lets on that he’s older than he appears although he won’t elaborate.

I’m not entirely sure what happens in detail after this. They definitely learn to trust each other a lot more than especially Logan intended. They also learn to work as a team.

Logan’s home looks abandoned when they finally arrive although there are signs of recent life. Logan reaches out with his thoughts and connects with his contact (Charles.) He brings Diana to him and - after being confronted and questioned by Charles’ partner (Erik) - are filled in about what’s happened since Logan left. Diana agrees to help, although she is still personally opposed to war. During preparations, Diana and Logan finally act on that spark

I want to say at some point this hiding place is discovered, leading to a messy fight that ends in injury and in some cases capture. Logan’s brother is a part of it. Maybe Charles is one of the captured mutants which immediately turns Erik against Logan and Diana. The group divides - some survivors side with Erik and a scant few side with Logan and Diana. Erik leaves with plans to rescue Charles himself. It’s possible this also leads to a grief and fear- fueled argument between Logan and Diana. It may even lead to a “break up.” This is instigated by Logan.

If the two do go their separate ways then it’s possible a handful of people side with Diana over Logan. Those who do she promises to bring to Themyscira where, as princess, she’ll assure their safety. It’s actually possible Logan leaves all those people with Diana as he just can’t deal with what’s happened and blames himself for unintentionally leaving a trail his brother could follow. He of course projects this onto her even though they’re both aware of what he’s doing.

Diana will make plans to bring the people with her back...but in the moment her heart is broken. They regroup and figure out what their first next step should be.

I’m not sure how they reunite but they definitely do - maybe Logan ends up trying and failing to break into the prison side of the castle, ending in his capture. Maybe Diana tries to and she ends up in a similar position (which is difficult given how strong and trained she is but not impossible.) Or maybe she sends these people off and decides to rescue the captured herself. It’s possible after calming down that Logan has a similar idea and they cross paths again by chance. It would actually be pretty cool if Logan uses some of the training he’s had with Diana to avoid being captured. Ooh if Diana crosses paths with him during a fight she might step in and that would be a great way to bring them back together. They’re already riding an adrenaline high which would dampen the risk of argument. The two of them then team up to save Logan’s friends.

There is a huge and messy battle that mimics Logan’s escape from Stryker’s Island in Origins. I’m not totally sure how it ends other than at some point there’s a fight between Logan and Victor. Diana definitely steps in with a surprise-attack and it’s kind of a symbol of their united front (as opposed to Logan’s previous outlook that his brother is his responsibility.)

I think Logan is the one who sacrifices himself here although I’m not sure how. I don’t think it’s intentional. Probably something about staying behind while she leads the forefront although it might unfold with them starting out in the reverse position. Logan trusts Charles and another close friend of his (Ororo?) and doubles back to help Diana. I’m not sure where Erik is in all this. Maybe he was captured or comes in with backup at the end allowing Logan and Diana to stay behind; they trust Charles and Erik to help the others.

I don’t know exactly where the sacrifice comes in but I think it would be really sweet and heartbreaking if he cupped her cheek in a brief last moment of intimacy and said something similar to what Steve did in the movie. Ohey’re going to need Diana’s protection on the way to Thymiscera: there’s no way Hippolyta will welcome this group in without her. Logan will stay behind and try to clear out the rest of the soldiers. He promises he’ll be okay even though his eyes say otherwise. They kiss - because they must kiss - then they hug and as they do Logan whispers his real name to Diana, kind of passing the secret on to her.

Maybe in an epilogue the group is seen finally reaching Diana’s home. They’re welcomed with skepticism and hesitation but when Diana steps forward with the image of a full “Wonder Woman” (albeit altered slightly to fit the style of this AU) there’s little question as to whether or not this group is trustworthy. Integration is a very slow process but they’re given a plot of land to start building a new life.

Diana and her mother reunite although I’m not totally sure how that conversation goes down. Diana is grieving Logan of course but she wants to honor his memory. Maybe her mother comforts her saying that a woman can be strong and still mourn.

I kind of want to say that as time goes on and the super-powered survivors begin to thrive again Diana, Charles and Erik - and maybe Ororo too - start talking about looking for and rescuing more people like them. Maybe one day as she’s making these plans there’s a commotion within her earshot. Everyone stiffens and Diana excuses herself to investigate (Erik tries to as well but there is a strict ‘no Erik acting on aggression’ policy XD)

Lo and behold, it’s Logan. He looks a little older now, greying at the temples and with a few scars on his face and shoulders, despite only a year at most passing. As soon as he sees her he withdraws his claws. They share a moment of silence, taking each other in. Diana has come into her own and for Logan it’s breathtaking. She calls his name, his real name and the two embrace and share a kiss

#xmen #dceu #wonder woman #wolverine #diana prince #logan howlett #james howlett #logan x diana #diana x logan #inscryptions #sort of #dc #memes

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vibranium-chakra · 6 years ago

Text

Countdown

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut per usual lol.

A/N: So this one is a request someone made in December, hence the New Year’s theme. (I’m so late lol I’m so sorry) It was a request for jealous sex. So I gave it a shot. Hope you guys like!

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Smokey eye, glossed lips, and gold highlight; a simple but classic look for the occasion. Tonight was the company holiday party for your job, a New Year’s Eve celebration, and making a good impression was an understatement. It was no secret that for the past three years, your contributions at work were making waves in the Atlanta tech industry. You were one of the most talented black female coders in the area, and a highly sought out expert for new coming businesses. Company owners and city donors from far and wide would be in the building with offers for collaborations and donations to your program, and it was your job to keep them happy and entertained. You were more than willing to do whatever you needed to do to keep your rank on top, so if dressing up and cheesing for old white men was the ticket, then so be it. The planner opted for a local lounge for the event as opposed to the usual stuffy hotel ballroom. Clad in a satin red slit dress, you were more than ready to be see.

After moisturizing your hair, setting in the organic waves of the Malaysian extensions, you stepped into your bedroom to slip into your shoes and head for the door.

“I’ll be there, just hold off until then. Can you get the files from finance?” you heard from the living room. An occupied Erik sat on the sofa engrossed in a phone call with one of his assistants, you assumed. Being a director at the Wakandan Outreach here in Atlanta, Erik had been invited to the event too. You’d asked him to be your plus one a couple weeks ago, to which he strongly declined to your dismay. When you started dating almost 6 months ago, you both decided it was best to keep your situationship under wraps. You didn’t need anyone thinking he was your key into the tech business, and he didn’t want anyone thinking he showed favoritism to you or your company. By now you figured it was time to go public and just enjoy the holiday together. Erik, however, saw it as a bigger risk than you’d thought.

“Baby I’m headed out.’ you slipped out as you stealthily headed for the door.

“Okay babe, I’ll lock the do-” he started towards the door, stopping in his tracks once his eyes landed on you. His gaze traveled from your toes, painted white just like he liked, up past your supple thighs and cleavage that fit the dress like a glove. He didn’t overlook your French manicure and the special details in your makeup. His girl looked perfect.

“Damn Y/N, you know this is a work thing right?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though his lip was wedged in between his teeth with lust.

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes and folded your arms. “A work thing you refused to go to with me.”

“Well if I knew you were goin’ out like this…” he muttered as he extended his hand for yours, prompting you to spin around. He stopped with your back turned to him, fully drawn in to your ass and how it sat in place against the fabric. He let out a gutting groan once he started feeling himself grow and strain against his sweats. Even though he got to see you next to naked nearly every day, seeing you dolled up did something different for Erik. It reminded him of how you would dress up for you guys’ first set of dates. Lately you both hadn’t had much time between work.

“Why don’t we just skip this thing and celebrate 2019 at home?” he grumbled into the flesh of your skin, peppering wet kisses along your neck and shoulder. You giggled at the tickle of his lips and fingers.

“I can’t baby, this is really important for me and we’ve got a lotta big faces coming.”

“Mmm my girl is so talented, so beautiful.” Erik mumbled the praises into your ear sweetly, moving to rest his forehead against yours.. “I’m so proud of you.”

You gave him a small peck and smiled against his lips. “Thank you. Now seriously I have to go. My ride is waiting.”

“You riding with Ayana?”

Here came the moment of conflict. Ayana was your best work friend, so it makes sense that Erik assumed you would ride with her. Erik had met her a few times going to work outings and conferences. Dallas Jackson, however, he didn’t take well to. Your 34-year-old supervisor was extremely easy on the eyes and charismatic for days. It was no secret that he was one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor. But his keen sense of entrepreneurship was what you admired, and lacked. Knowing this, Dallas had agreed to be by your side as you mingled with the big rigs.. Did Erik need to know all that? No. But you imagined how you would feel in his shoes, and it didn’t feel right withholding the information.

“Actually...I’m going with Dallas.”

Erik pulled away, jerking his head back and smacking his lips.

“Oh hell nah Y/N you know ion trust that nigga. I’m taking you,” he said blankly, sweeping his phone up from the couch and heading towards his shoes post-haste.

“No the hell you’re not, he’s my boss and he’s helping me talk to our clients. And how the hell are you gonna try to go now when I begged you and you said no?”

“That’s before I knew this nigga asked you. I ain’t having it.” He was almost completely dressed at this point, tossing his blazer on.

“Actually, I asked him.” you retorted, folding your arms and leaning your weight on your left leg. Erik shot his head up at the information, eyes glazed with malice and jaw clenching. The staring contest he was trying to hold lasted for about 10 seconds and you weren’t backing down.

“So you just gon’ ask this sneaky nigga to take you out like you single or some’, and I’m just supposed to show up and let it happen?”

“You can’t let or not let anything happen because I’m not asking. You not my daddy nigga.”

Erik unwillingly chuckled and smirked at your choice of works, leaning his head forward with a knowing look. You both knew good and well that he had definitely been Daddy on a couple of occasions.

“I’m not joking with you Erik, I needed a date and you said no, so I’m going with Dallas. Period.” You half-yelled, grabbing your clutch and heading for the door again. He stayed put in his spot, face still smothered with distaste and anger. He’s always been a little jealous, so the behavior didn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t ever tell him out loud, but the jealousy he had for you held a piece of sentiment that you liked. The competitive spirit and protectiveness he upheld in these moments made you feel wanted, safe, connected. But again, you weren’t telling him that.

“Y/N I’m serious!”

You sung out a smug goodbye, strutting out to the car and making sure that you were in Erik’s view. Served him right.

***********************

The ride to the lounge was fairly short and smooth. Dallas was dressed in a grey suit ensemble that accentuated his tall, slender figure. His reddish curly hair and low cut was shaped into a sophisticated updo that reminded you of the 30’s. Not quite your type, but handsome nonetheless.

Upon entrance to the club, you both were greeted by coworkers and other managers. The lounge was decked out in classy holiday decor, gleams of gold and silver lights along the high walls and tables. The doorways were all embezzled by glamorous satin ribbon pieces. The DJ was centered in the back of the space, currently playing a holiday selection that was scattered with jazz instruments. You casually sipped on a selected punch as Dallas chatted with an older white couple, the woman laughing infectiously. You observed the interaction closely, zeroing in on Dallas’s mannerisms. He would occasionally hold her hand or whisper in her ear, and she would blush like clockwork. From this view, you could see why Erik was cautious about him.

After a few more minutes, Dallas was back at your side, right arm draping across your shoulder..

“Okay Y/N, we got a big set of rounds to make. A few donors are ready to drop, so we’ll hit them first. You think you ready?” he asked, smiling down at you.

“I don’t know if I persuade like you can,” you said truthfully.

“Probably not yet,” he chuckled, “but you’ll learn. This is all just a game of cat and mouse. You know the business, and you look beautiful.” He eased out the last compliment fluidly. He may not have been serious, but you’d be lying if you said it didn't make you want to blush just like the woman he was just talking to. “Just be confident, and go with the flow. And when all else fails, let the dress do the talking for you. ” He nudged at your side playfully, pulling a more relaxed smile out of you. You accepted the small comments as platonically as you could and relaxed.

For the next two hours, you were joined at the hip, moving around from person to person. You had almost established a routine; if it was a woman, you would strike up conversation by complimenting her dress or shoes, and Dallas would segway into a pseudo-deep explanation of your company’s mission and goals to appeal to the ethos. For the men, he would introduce you and have you explain your programs, and you would do so while trying to ignore the old man’s eye on your breasts or legs. At any rate, each encounter ended with a check written in hand or a scheduled follow-up meeting to discuss donor options. It was astounding to watch Dallas memorize these people’s stories and lives and be able to recite it back to them. He was like a machine. You two were dynamic and racked up donations and collabs like it was nothing.

Every hour it struck close to midnight, you two would take shot or drink. You had just taken another when you finally spotted Erik walk in with a few guys from the center. He spotted you out like a sore thumb, but didn’t dare speak to you. Everywhere you went with Dallas, you could see him out of the corner of your eyes, smiling and laughing with everyone. Women were flocking to him like magnets, and you couldn’t blame them. All black suit and shirt, dreads pulled effortlessly, but neatly to the back in ponytail, gold jewelry, Tom Ford dress shoes. A staple look for Erik that you never got tired of. What you didn’t see was how irritated Erik was getting as the hours went by, noticing yours and Dallas’s body language loosen up with every drink. If he didn’t know it, he would think you two were actually dating. It killed him.

It was now 11:37 pm, and soon after you lost count of how many people you’d met so far, your feet were begging for relief. Dallas picked up on your disinterest and excused you both from the older couple, leading you over to the bar. He helped you perch up in the high-set barstool and sat in the one to the right of you.

“Thank you, you don’t know how bad these heels are killing me,” you admitted as you rotated your ankles to recover the sensation in your heels and toes. He chuckled at the faint expression on your face.

“Well they look incredible, and thanks to you we’ve almost pulled in more contributions in one night than we had all year. All praise to them heels baby,” He put his hands up in surrender, pretending to bow and kneel. You cracked up at his serious expression, shamefully gushing.

“Shut up. For a second I thought I was gonna be overdressed.” you mumbled, adjusting your neckline.

“No such thing for something like this. These old niggas let their eyes do the thinking, and between your knowledge and that,” he motioned towards your dress, “they’re stuck like magnets. If I was your man I’d be scared to let you out the house like that.” He threw a playful wink before grabbing the attention of the bartender. If only he knew how close to home he’d hit.

“Champagne?” You thanked him as you took the tall slender glass from his hands, sipping and savoring the crisp and sweet beverage. You closed your eyes in bliss and opened them, only to be met grimly with a set of eyes you weren’t expecting heading your way. The sight sent you into a coughing fit before you even realized it.

“Y/N you okay?” Dallas urged, tending to you urgently. He patted your back until you calmed down. “Breathe, breathe.” You allowed the even breaths to get you back to normal. All the while, Erik fixed his eyes on the interaction until he was right in front of you.

“Can we help you?” Dallas asked, orientating his body towards Erik.

“Nah, we good fam. I got it from here.” He slid right past Dallas to stand in front of you.You peered your eyes up at him menacingly. There was no way he was really doing this. You were dreaming, maybe.

“Excuse me?”

“I said we good, bro.”

You stood up immediately, placing yourself in between the two.

“I’m sorry D, this is my...a friend of mine, Erik Stevens.”

“Ohhh I remember from the outreach program, nice to see you man.”

Erik stared at the man’s extended hand once before mugging back at him, uninterested in the gesture.

“Like I said we cool D, she wit me for the rest of the night.”

“Ah can you give us a minute please Dallas?”

“You sure?” he asked cautiously, unconvinced that Erik was in his right mind and was safe for you to leave with. You probably would’ve thought the same thing if you were in his place.

“She asked you nicely to leave, I’m not gon’ fuckin’ ask you dawg.” Erik asserted himself towards Dallas. He had officially lost his mind. Erik followed you as you dragged him towards the back of the lounge until you arrived at one of the private powder rooms. It was very spacious and lush, accompanied with a vanity mirror, granite countertop and a velvet bench. Erik followed in as you locked the door.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” You gritted threw your teeth.

“Me? You lost your damn mind if you think I’ma let that nigga parade around here with my girl like that!”

“Newsflash nigga, I am not a piece of meat, I can make my own decisions! Just like you decided not to come with me tonight, right? And second of all, technically you’re not my boyfriend. What was I supposed to do, not let him touch me?”

“He touched you?!” he raged, leaning towards the door.

“Erik you’re going crazy! What do you want me to do, huh? Go out there and tell my boss to fuck off? Or tell the donors to not look at me while I’m trying to rally their support? This is my job Erik, a job I’m damn good at. I’ve been working hard to get to this point and Dallas was helping me with that. Do you even care to know that we pulled in more donations tonight that we’ve done all year?”

Erik remained silent at the statement, shame settling in.

“Of course not, cuz all you care about is who’s looking at my ass.” you retorted, turning towards the mirror. You wanted to just leave his ass in here, but you were too embarrassed and ticked off to face Dallas again now. Erik slumped up from the bench and came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Look baby, I’m sorry. I tried to stay away but all I could see was that nigga touching on you and talking shit, and you look so damn good tonight.” he kissed your cheek before looking at his and your reflection in front of you.

“And the fact that you’re jealous gives you the right to act an ass?”

“No, no it doesn’t. I didn’t mean to flip out like that, I just…” he sighed running his hand across his face. “I fucked up didn’t I.”

“Yeah genius, you did.” you shook away from his grasp turning towards him.

“Look I’ll talk to dude. Tell him I was drinkin’ and got caught up. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s not gonna fix this Erik, Dallas isn’t the problem.”

He studied your face for a minute, seemingly putting an answer together. The truth was, he trusted you with everything in him; he trusted you with his life. The past months with you had been some of the most transparent and memorable moments he’d ever had with a woman. You made him feel at home, a feeling he never wanted to lose. Perhaps that fear was exactly what kept him up in arms.

“I trust you, okay? Shit...it feels like I trust you too much sometimes. You’re one of the only people I trust, and that’s probably why I can’t stand seeing someone shiesty like that nigga come around you. I really am sorry, Y/N.”

You digested his words, and hated yourself for almost succumbing to him. Your time with Erik has taught you about his trust issues with the world, and you knew deep down that learning to be transparent with his feelings was a process. His constant need for your approval stemmed from something in his past that he didn’t want to revisit. However, you weren’t interested in becoming the punching bag for his insecurities.

“Can I tell you something else?” he murmured.

“What?”

“You look sexy as fuck when you’re mad at me.” He grinned, purposely letting his golds show. His whole demeanor had changed, and you’d be lying if you said your body hadn’t noticed. He picked you up quickly set you atop the vanity.

“No no no no, you’re not about try to pull me back in with some compliments and a cute face.”

“I can’t compliment my girl now?” he grumbled into your neck and collarbone, sucking gently. The sensation was unexpected, pulling sounds from you against your will. The devil knew your spots and weaknesses too well, especially when liquor was in your system.

“I’m not your girl remember?” You moaned out as best you could. Erik didn’t seem to care, his kisses getting sloppier and hungrier. The party sounded like it was picking up once you heard the DJ announce that there were 15 minutes left until midnight. Erik had moved from your neck towards your chest, and then quickly to your legs. He opened them by gripping your knees and proceeded to meet face to face with your pussy underneath a lacy black thong. The inside of your thighs had emitted enough heat to have the aroma hitting his nose. As angry as you were with him, he knew this might be his last time tasting you for a while. He groaned at the thought of that before pulling your panties to the side and diving straight into your lips.

Erik ate your pussy like he would never eat anything again. He shifted between sucking you up whole and flicking at your clit. As usual your mind went somewhere else; eyes shuttering, mouth stuck open, legs twitching. You tried to focus on not making too much noise up until he pulled away and full-on spit directly on your pussy and slapped it before eating it again. The vulgar move shocked you, causing you to peer down at his smirking face. He knew his girl liked the back of his hand.

“Mmm you eat my pussy so good baby,” you cooed at Erik, your hands moving to cradle his head. The small gesture of affection motivated him. He fucked you with his tongue expertly, hitting just the right spot. You were only a handful lip smacks and sucks away from cumming directly into his mouth. He used his power over your orgasm to mess with your head.

“You think that nigga can fuck you better than me?” he muffled out, face stained with your juices.

“No, baby.”

“Can he eat your pussy like this?”

You shrieked in fear, almost falling off the vanity from thrashing your legs. Erik anchored you down gently by your stomach to keep you steady and giving himself better access to your G-spot.

“You forgive me?”

Unfortunately, you weren’t that close.

“Ughhh, noooooo!” you hollered out, though it came out more like a loud moan. He didn’t like that; he was determined to break you.

“You sure?” This time, he kept his eyes on you during his attack. Seeing Erik on his knees, which was rare, and looking directly into your soul was sending you upwards. You both knew that you had forgiven him as soon as he started kissing you,but verbally saying it was another thing. Your hearing started to weaken aside from the repetitive sucking sounds against your clit until the waves of pleasure rushed over you and out onto Erik’s face. You were out of breathe at this point, panting as his expanded lips kissed yours.

“I think your body is saying otherwise princess.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

He chuckled at your boldness. You’d managed to get up on the countertop on all fours, thong removed and dress pulled up above your waist. Erik marveled at your round cheeks and spread lips peeking out, arched just for him. He massaged them before tasting you one more time, then proceeded to undress his bottom half and press into you. The strokes were absolutely perfect, alternating between quick and hard to slow and slippery. As sated as he made you feel, you knew it had been a while since you stepped away and you needed to get back out to Dallas as to not raise any suspicions. Erik was purposely playing with your nut and you weren’t having it.

“Erikkkk I gotta g-, I gotta get back out there.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No I want you to make me cum,” you scowled looking back at him with a look that dared him to stop. Your pussy clenched at the sight of him watching you, making him hiss out.

“Shit, your pussy too good to rush baby. You should see how creamy yo-”

His praises were interrupted by the DJ calling out that there were 5 minutes left until countdown.

“Erik!”

“Okay! Whatever you say.” Erik grappled one hand around your waist and started pounding you. He covered your mouth with his other hand once your moans turned into small screams..

“Careful what you wish for princess,” he grunted out between strokes, not that you heard him. You were focused on heat rising in your stomach and flutters spreading. Erik slowed down, still stroking expertly, determined to get his apology from you before letting you cum.

“Tell me you forgive me.”

“Stoooppppp Erik,” you groaned out. If you weren’t so close you might’ve started fighting him.

“Tell me and I’ll give you want you Y/N,”

“No! Shit fuck it,” you rose your upper body up from your elbows to perch on your hands, throwing your ass back athletically. If he wasn’t gonna give it to you you were more than prepared to take it. Erik’s strategy fell apart right in front of him, weak under your control.You were milking him at this point, pulling strings of curses and compliments from his lips. If this is what unforgiveness felt like, he considered making you upset more often.

The next thing you knew it was ten seconds until the new year. You continued to ride Erik to the sounds of the party congregation yelling and counting down, encouraging the orgasm you’d built up to release.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6….”

“I feel that shit Y/N c’mon, I’m right there with you.”

He started to meet your thrusts with his, climbing towards his own climax.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1….HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The cheers and applause fluidly swallowed the sounds of you and Erik’s screams and orgasms. Though you were still worried about Dallas and your friends, neither of you could imagine a better place to be going into 2019.

You both caught your breath and started to freshen up quickly.

“You still don’t forgive me?” he asked buttoning up his pants.

“No, Erik I don’t. You embarrassed me from

You rolled your eyes at him through the mirror while reapplying your lipstick. Finishing and putting your makeup back in your bag, you threw him a hell no over your shoulder as you headed out the door carefully.

“More makeup sex for me,” he threw back.

Once the coast was clear, you headed out stealthily to the dance floor. You played at the hem of your dress, jumping at the touch of someone’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey girl where’d you go? You missed the countdown?” It was your coworker Ayana.

“Oh I was in the restroom. Too much champagne girl,” you giggled out nervously. She gave a knowing smirk and mmmhmm at your statement, as if she knew something was up.

“What?”

She averted her eyes downward st your dress. You inspected closely until you landed on a white wet stain on the hem of your dress.

You definitely weren’t forgiving him now.

Taglist: @amethyst1993 @thehomierobbstark @chaneajoyyy @hadtocomeoffigsotheycantstalkme @iamrheaspeaks @nickidub718 @raysunshine26 @wakanda-inspired @cancerianprincess @royalhearts

#black panther fanfiction #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens

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awackyphdinadorkable · 5 years ago

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Another AU I keep thinking about...

The basic concept is faintly (very faintly) inspired by A Knight’s Tale (2001), but it twists and turns a great many times to bear close to no semblance to it anymore lol:

Erik is a feared swordsman who remains unbeaten at any tourney because he *never* loses grip on his sword (because he can control metal, duh). He is a gifted smith, but he doesn’t usually offer his services for sale, earning most of his livelihood through the prizes he obtains at the tourneys. He is driven by one wish - to find Klaus Schmidt, the man who murdered his mother.

Things take an unexpected turn when he crosses blades with a knight who can guess his movements even before he means to make them. Erik grows furious because losing is no option. That the man even seems to be enjoying himself does nothing to lift Erik’s mood. In the end, both end up trashing their weapons and armors, which leaves the officials with deciding on a draw. Erik is pissed. The other guy is happy because he actually still has to compete in the joust.

To make matters worse, the same knight approaches him, now without the helmet on, a dashing young man with blue eyes who has the most charming smile that Erik just wants to punch out of him. And the guy has the audacity to ask him to help fix his armor since Erik did “such good work” trashing it. Erik tells him to get lost, but the man insists, revealing that he knows of Erik’s “little magic trick.” Begrudgingly, Erik fixes the armor so the man can go on competing. Obviously, he is only watching the joust to see whether his handicraft works out, not because he is interested in that man or anything.

Once the ceremony is over, Erik is approached by that guy again, this time with his little entourage of a young woman with blonde hair and a scrawny looking monk. Sir Charles tells him that they are the same and that he means to make Erik an offer to share in their adventures and fight by their side at the tourneys. As it turns out, the girl, Raven, can shift shape and thus has no trouble competing in the archery contests to earn some extra money, which means that the three can afford lodgings and food thanks to the prize money.

Charles reveals himself as gifted as well, being able to read the minds of his ooponents. He tells the older man that he doesn’t have to be alone in this world anymore if he so chooses, informing him that he is welcome to join them as they are to leave come morning. Erik declines, but eventually follows them after all. Not that Charles ever saw that coming lol.

Erik is still somewhat irritated by this whole arrangement but soon understands that he is truly finally no longer alone in this world, having found people who may not share his exact troubles but who have to face challenges due to their abilities.

Charles is happy to finally drop out of the sword fighting since he wants to focus on the jousts alone. He has a certain agenda - which is to win back his family’s castle, Westchester, which was taken from him due to his stepfather’s bad dealings with other lords, even more so because there lies something hidden in the vaults of that castle he doesn’t trust anyone but himself with.

Erik and Charles eventually realize that they share in a common goal, just that they know it under different names. What is Klaus Schmidt for Erik is Lord Shaw for Charles, who has since expressed interest in obtaining Westchester, with a telepath he just recently married by his side no less.

However, it’s not just the goals they soon share in, but also romantic feelings (swordfight training and Charles teaching Erik formal dances will do that to the both of them) start to put them closer together than maybe it should, considering who they are up against - and how far that man may want to go just to see Erik snap and complete his plan to win Westchester for his own purposes.

.... So yeah. More ideas. Just no idea of how to make it happen... aka story of my life.

Cheers!

#cherik #charles x erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men au #ramblings #fanfic #writing ideas #I have a lot fic ideas #and no idea about what to do with them #so I just spew 'em out and leave y'all to deal with 'em #bon appetit

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demoncryptspanties · 7 years ago

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A version of events

Requests: open.

masterlist

A/N: I wrote this a while ago but then decided to rewrite it since I hopefully have improved at writing just saying in case this appears to be familiar.

Characters: Erik x reader, mostly just mentions of Charles, Raven and Alex.

Warnings: Loss of a child, a little angst

The first time we met was in a bar.

He and the professor had tried to recruit Logan and he was being a total git, per usual. I stepped forward to ask what they wanted and I knew then and there that I hated him. He was cocky and arrogant and I found myself comparing him to Macbeth once I got to know him a little more. There was a short moment of silence before I felt a digging in my mind and then the shorter one addressed me.

"So your mutation."

"What do you want."

There were a full 5 minutes of intense staring while he spoke to me inside my head and the only thing telling about our conversation was the change of expression on my face. I joined the fight that day.

Rather than mingling with who I would later dub, the group of wayward mutants I chose to sit outside already missing the comfort of my overprotective, and one might argue grumpy friend. We had parted ways me knowing that wouldn't be the last time I saw him. He sure loved to cause trouble here and there. I watched the professor convince Erik, to stay and once he left Erik stood around a little before going inside. It was then that he noticed me by the door.

"I didn't catch your name"

"That's because I didn't tell you. It's Y/N"

"Well Y/N it's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure it is."

Since we were similar in that we were pretty advanced in our mutations we spent a lot more time together. Just training turned into eating and eventually just being in each other's constant company. We kept it mostly professional. Me harbouring a small crush which I wasn't too sure he returned. Until one night when I woke up with tangled limbs and messy hair. One might say when I tell this story That he was nothing more than a blip in my very long life but a feeling is a feeling and everything felt good when I was with him, even when it was bad.

Almost too soon for us to address that the beach came along and we made our decisions Raven choosing Erik while he waited for my choice.

"I can't choose you, Erik, you know that."

"No, I don't you can do what you want. You can't pretend what happened didn't."

"How can I choose you after this, what the hell is wrong with you. Don't you understand what you've done? No. I'm done with your shit."

The next time we met was years later. Alex Summers and I had become extremely close but he then got drafted. It was bad after that, the one person I trusted to lose hope did and the school was shut down. The day was normal until Logan walked through the door. I wasn't in the room and wasn't able to clarify that yes I do know the mutant whose acting like they know you and it was the loud crashes and then a long string of silence that made me cautiously enter the room.

"Y/N aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Logan what the fuck are you doing here," I said a smile reaching my face.

"He's from the future apparently, he wants us to break Erik out of prison," Charles interjected.

"I want to ask about the future thing but I don't really want to know." I went along with the whole process and let him lead us to who I later would find out is Erik's son. He had just explained the whole I'm from the future thing which to me sounded like complete bullshit but this was someone I trusted with my life.

"Damn it's been a while," Logan said after the car ride got a little too quiet for liking.

"I'm dead aren't I," I asked Logan.

"What gave it away."

"You're a sight for sore eyes. I wouldn't willingly stay away from you for that long and with the way you described our future I'm not sure how long I would last."

"You lasted a long while it's just you refused to run and hide. You died protecting the people you loved including myself. He wanted to die with you, by the way, it's just the professor wouldn't let him."

"So he's still kicking then I'm sure."

"Yeah, he told me to tell you that he loves you. "

"I'm sure he did."

We broke Erik out which we were able to do a lot easier than expected I wasn't needed much, so I had no reason to interact with Erik until we were left on the plane.

"You look well." He said I'm assuming to lessen the tension.

"You killed the president."

"I did not."

"The bullet curved," Charles said obviously not taking a hint and joining the conversation.

"I tried to save him, he was one of us."

"The President, a mutant you've got to be mad."

We kept all necessary contact scarce after that to a complete minimum. Until the fight came along. Erik ran after that with little less than a goodbye and at that moment I hoped I wouldn't see him again. I can assure you I did.

Hank, Charles and I had rebuilt the school by this time. Alex had returned and we had built our lives together. I never needed more when I was with him. I felt complete and that was what I wanted to keep. Last time I had heard from Erik was through Raven who had said that he was now married with a young child. I suppose it was natural that he also moved on but it still hurt in a way, it felt as if our story was unfinished.

The day I saw him again had to be the single worst day of my life. It started with the appearance of Erik. It was in that moment that I knew something was going to go wrong.

"Y/N You weren't supposed to be here."

"What is that suppose to mean what the fuck are you doing Erik."

"How's your son."

"I don't see how that's of relevance Erik, how's your daughter."

"Dead, along with my wife."

"That makes the fucking both of us. " I was stern and very ready to hit him by that point.

The minute after however had to really rip me from my insides. Charles was taken and Alex tried to stop them. It was too late and the next minute I was sobbing and screaming in front of the ruins of my school with Erik's son holding me while I was sick.

I felt my world being pulled out from under me, everything I had created for myself. The one person who was my constant was ripped away from me in seconds without me able to do anything. The worst part was that I was alone to grieve. Charles was gone, Raven and I weren't close and I was expected to fight before I had time to process and function. I never have felt so empty and so defeated.

The fight happened not soon after. Peter has taken us up to Erik but I found it hard to look at him I was numb and angry and for once in some sense, I understood Erik's actions. Built on anger, hatred and loss of hope. His glance kept flickering to me while Raven was speaking, to the point where she gave up and just looked at me and waited. I finally looked him in the eye, tears gathering in my eyes, I wiped them away furiously.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." He said softly.

"I want to say it's okay but it's not. I lost everything with him, Erik." Quiet sobs broke my speech causing him to lower his hands slightly and his eyes to soften.

"I understand. Just please let me help you."

"How the hell am I suppose to trust you, Erik, you keep running I can't take someone leaving me again. Stay just please stay Erik."

He fought with us and we won with the help of the new group of wayward mutants. I distanced myself from Erik until I tried to speak to the professor and saw him there.

"Erik your leaving," I said both disappointed and strangely upset.

"Yes but hear me out please."

"No, are you being serious. You promised."

"I want you to come with me." He said cutting me off. "I know that I can't stay here, this isn't my home and I see the way that you look at this place, you can't stay here it hurts. Just trust me and for once I swear it I will not disappoint you. Come with me."

It took minute and tears to fill my eyes before I nodded furiously and jumped into his arms. It felt right just like me leaving felt right and when we found a cottage with a farm in the countryside that felt right too. It took over a year for me to kiss Erik and then it took 2 months after that for us to become a couple. 2 years after that we said vows that lasted about 10 minutes and 6 years after that I would hold my 3rd child. A boy, Alexander Logan Lehnsherr.

#imagine #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr imagine #erik lehnsherr #magneto #magneto imagine #magneto x reader #x men #x men imagine #x men first class #x men apocalypse

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killchallawishlist · 7 years ago

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CANON DIVERGENT FIC PROMPTS

☐ Warring clans - Erik’s clan is exiled or isolated like the Jabari Tribe - after a catastrophe, Erik comes to the capital of Wakanda as there’s a power vacuum present. Erik hopes to improve the prospects of his clan (by seducing T’Challa perhaps). I see this fic primarily not set in the current MCU timeline. Can be a historical fic. ABO optional

Submitted by @sweet-ice-perfume

☐ killmonger succeeds with his mission of taking over Wakanda and keeps T’Challa as prisoner (smut if you want)

Submitted by @ fuxkswithme

☐ Erik is still alive and imprisoned in Wakanda, but a huge crisis (Thanos/Infinity War?) causes T'Challa to set him free so he will hopefully help Wakanda (or maybe even Earth) and they have to join forces

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ Erik’s body can be saved, but he just won’t wake back up. T'Challa finds a way to travel to the Ancestral Plane somehow (maybe the Herb grows back or they still have some somewhere?) and searches for Erik there. He finds him, but Erik refuses to come back, because he doesn’t want to be locked up forever. T'Challa keeps coming back to him to talk to him, they fall in love, and Erik finally decides to come back with him

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ Either T'Challa wins the challenge against Erik (idk how, cause Erik surely won't yield and T'Challa can't kill him for the sake of the story, but maybe there's a rule where the challenge can be declared won by a party somehow?) or he refuses to accept the challenge all-together, forcing the two to work things out a different way

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ T'Challa has just been crowned the new king. This means he is now told all the secrets the former king has kept from him. Like the attempted but failed assassination of T'Chaka that T'Challa has never heard of before. He learns that the man responsible for this is imprisoned in Wakanda’s highest security cell and decides to confront him. That is how he meets Erik. And Erik has some other secrets to tell him.

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ It’s tradition that the new king of Wakanda is presented with a tribute from each tribe in the form of a potential partner that the king can choose from. T'Challa chooses Erik (however he ends up to be one of the potential tributes).

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ T'Chaka gets killed far, far earlier and N'Jobu returns from America to become King of Wakanda, taking his son Erik with him. The rest is completely open. What will N'Jobu do with his power? How will T'Challa cope with the loss of his dad? What will the dynamic between T'Challa and Erik be? Etc. etc.

Submitted by @staubengel

☐ Fix-it / Erik lives

Submitted by @starawr or Arbor Mist (Peachy) on AO3

☐ King Killmonger AU

Submitted by @starawr or Arbor Mist (Peachy) on AO3

☐ Post-movie fic: What if N’Jadaka is welcomed to stay in Wakanda *only if* he pledges loyalty to T’Challa, but he refuses to do it so he is banished from Wakanda. Erik would then continue what he was doing pre-movie (and T’Challa meets him again later on? Has to stop him? He comes back with a better plan? Go wild).