#one of the best marvel shows I've watched

[blindmagdalena]

just finished rewatching wandavision with @hom3landr and we're both stoned and we both spent the last two episodes just crying lmao

[dinogoofymutated]

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

    You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

    You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you���re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

    Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

    Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

     Maybe not.

    Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

    “Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear? 

    oh.

    Oh. 

    You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

    You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

    First thing you do? Go to the store.

    It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know? 

    So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is. 

    You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you. 

    You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

    It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

    Holy shit. 

    Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

    You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him. 

    You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway,  waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

    “Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

    “Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

    “What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

    “What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

    “Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing. 

    “Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

    “Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

    “It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield. 

    “Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

    “I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed. 

    “Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

    “Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it. 

    “No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

    “Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession. 

    “...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

    “Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

    “You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night. 

    He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

    “...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

    “Fuck”

    You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

    You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

    “Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed. 

    He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

    “Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

    “Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face. 

    “Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

    “Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit. 

    “Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so. 

    “Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it. 

    “Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

    “Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down. 

    You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

    “Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

    “...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

    “Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream. 

    “Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

    “I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

    “Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

    Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right. 

    Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

    “Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you. 

    “Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

    His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again. 

    You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

    Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

    “Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

    You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter. 

    Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

    The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

    “Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

    “Tell you what?”

    “That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

    “Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

    “You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

    “You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

[alotofpockets]

I've got them | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You offer to watch Billy and Tommy. When Wanda sees you interracting with her kids, she realises her feelings towards you might be more than just a simple crush.

Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.4k

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“Come on Maximoff, you can't bail on Sunday brunch again.” Natasha shook her head, already knowing what her best friend was about to say. “You know I'd love nothing more than to join you guys, but I've got no one to watch the boys on Sundays since the weekend sitter moved away.” It was hard finding a sitter for the two energetic boys, especially when their mom was an Avenger. 

You were walking into the room with mission debriefing rapports for the meeting the team was about to have and overheard the conversation. “I’m free Sunday, I don’t mind watching them.” Wanda’s eyes shoot up to you. “Oh that would be too much-” Natasha interrupts her. “That would be much appreciated.” With a nudge from her best friend Wanda agrees. “Alright then, I have to get these to Tony, but find me in my office later for the details?” You wave the stack of papers in the air. “Yeah, sure.” Wanda responds before you smile in her direction and are off again. 

“Why did you do that?” Wanda shoves Natasha away from her. “Well, you clearly like y/n, and she’s met the boys before. See it as a way for them to bond, and then you can finally tell her how you feel.” Wanda’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “You really need to stop being my wing woman, and let me live my life.” Natasha sits down at the meeting table, as the rest of the team makes their way into the room. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

Once the meeting was done Wanda made her way over to the office wing of the Compound. Walking the familiar path to your office made her chest warm, Natasha’s words were true. Wanda had a crush on you for about three months now, never had she said those words out loud, but over time she would start spending more and more time with you. Did she need to be on this side of the Compound? No, not at all, but she grasped every opportunity to spend time with you. On the other hand, you were loving the frequent visits from Wanda, always reserving some time in your schedule to spend proper time with her when she would show up.

“Hi Wands, how was the meeting?” She shrugged her shoulders, “Nothing special. I do have these for you, though.” She hands you the file with meeting notes. It had been quite some time now that Wanda brought these to you, instead of Fury or Cap, you were more than happy to receive them from her though. “So, Sunday?” Wanda’s face turned serious quickly. “You really don’t have to watch the boys, it’s too much to ask anyways.” You smiled at her warmly, “First off, you didn’t ask, I offered. Second off, I would love to watch them, they seem like great kids.” You discuss further details until you both have to get back to work. 

That’s how you found yourself on the doorstep of the Maximoff household on Sunday. Wanda let you in while the boys were running around the living room chasing each other. “Boy’s, y/n is here, can you please come say hi.” They came to a halt in front of you, “Hi.” They said simultaneously. “Hi kiddos, it's good to see you again.” 

Wanda showed you around the house for a bit, so you knew where to find everything you might need. “Okay, and call me if anything is wrong, I can be back in 5 minutes.” You stopped her with your hands on her shoulders, “I’ve got them, Wands. Go have fun with your friends.” You didn’t miss the way her eyes widened slightly, and her breath hitched. “Alright, thank you again.” She turned to her kids, “Boy’s be nice, I’ll be back in around two hours. I love you both.” The boys both smiled her way and said, “We love you too.”

The boys were getting tired from running around and plopped down next to you on the couch. “Seems like you two are in need of food, what would you like?” They both wanted bagels with cream cheese, so you headed into the kitchen to get that ready for them as well as for yourself. 

During lunch Billy and Tommy asked you all kinds of questions to get to know you better. Do you have superpowers? What do you do for the Avengers? How do you know our mom? You answered all of their questions happily. Tommy was up next with another question, “Who is your favourite Avenger?” You smiled, “That’s easy, your mom is my favourite Avenger.” They both shared a look and started giggling, “Why?” It didn’t take long for you to answer, “Well, your mom is really kind, and cares a lot about people. She always makes sure the rest of the Avengers are well taken care of. And of course her red wiggly woos are pretty cool.” The boys giggled at the last part of your reasoning. “Is your mom your favourite Avenger too?” Both boys nod their heads instantly, “Mom is the best.” 

After the boys helped you clean up the lunch dishes all on their own, they seemed to have found their energy right back. At first they started chasing each other again, but you had an idea that wouldn’t end up with one of them getting hurt. You connected your phone with the speakers in the living room and started some music. The boys halted their running and looked your way at the first sound of music. “You’re not going to make me dance alone right?” 

The three of you were jumping around to the music when Wanda came back home, none of you realised though. You were too busy singing along to the music and twirling around together. Wanda watched the scene from the side of the room, her smile wide, and her heart full. She realised in that moment, while you were interacting with her kids that her feelings for you far exceeded those of a simple crush, she was falling for you hard.

You saw Wanda from the corner of your eye and moved towards her. “Dance with us?” You ask her with your hand held out.She places her hand in yours and lets herself get dragged over to the makeshift dance floor. After twirling her towards the boys, the four of you jump around together. The happy smiles on her children’s faces meant the world to Wanda, and the smile on her face meant the world to you. 

A slower song came on, and you took Billy’s hand to let him twirl you around, which isn’t very smooth with the height difference but it was the fun you were having that counted. “You should dance with mom.” He said, pushing you towards Wanda. You tap on Tommy’s shoulder. “Excuse me sir, do you mind if I steal the lady for a dance?” He happily hands over the dance to you. Behind your back the boys high five each other, with smug smiles on their faces. 

You slow dance with Wanda all throughout the song. The soft hint of her perfume spread around you, as you spun her around. Once the song came to an end you separated again, but something felt different. Neither one of you could wipe the smile off of your face. That was until you checked the time, “This has been a lot of fun, but I should head home.” Both Billy and Tommy come running towards you and engulf you in a big hug, “Thank you for hanging out with us today.” You hug them back, “We had a lot of fun.” They step away again as you tell them that you had a great time as well.

Wanda walked you towards the door and stepped outside with you. “Again thank you so much for doing this. I don’t know how I can repay you.” You smiled at the idea that popped up in your head. “How about you let me take you out on a date?” A smile started playing on Wanda's lips, “I would love that, let’s do it.” 

“Mooom.” Was heard from inside the house. “Duty calls, text me the details?” With a nod and a wave, you make your way back to your car. You weren’t able to wipe the smile off of your face the whole drive home, you were going to go on a date with Wanda.

-----

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[megalony]

Late Night Fights

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine based on a few requests I've combined together. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Summary: A rough day for everyone only gets worse when Eddie comes home in bruises and an argument stresses (Y/n) and the baby out.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tilting her head up, (Y/n) smiled gratefully when Eddie placed a cup of coffee down in front of her. She leaned to the right and let her head fall on his arm that was resting on the back of her chair and she felt him lean down to kiss the top of her hair.

"Are you actually going to eat before we leave?" He mumbled each word against the top of her head while he moved his free hand to rest on her shoulder.

Eddie was up, showered, dressed and had already had breakfast, all that was left was for (Y/n) and Chris to eat and then they would all be ready to go. But he could see (Y/n) had a full bowl of cereal in front of her that she had barely touched. Whereas Chris was munching his way through his usual rainbow hoops he had almost every day.

"M'not hungry,"

"We're not going unless you eat something," Eddie rose a brow when (Y/n) tilted her head back on his arm and glared up at him. "I'm serious. Remember last time? I'm not doing another emergency stop because you've fainted and whacked your head on the window. Eat."

He watched the way (Y/n) rolled her lips together and averted her eyes down to his chest, unable to keep the eye contact when she knew he was right.

They were going to be in the car for over an hour to get to the fayre and (Y/n) got car sick. If she ate before they left, it would at least settle her stomach and the baby and make her feel a little bit better. The last time they were taking a long car drive, (Y/n) didn't feel well enough for breakfast. One moment she had been telling Eddie she felt sick, then the next he had to brake hard when she fainted and fell against the door.

He could still hear the way (Y/n)'s head slammed into the window, he truly thought she had split her head open when her body bounced back and flailed into his arm.

Eddie wasn't having that memory repeat itself today.

"Bossy," (Y/n) spoke under her breath while a grin crept onto her lips.

When she turned her head back towards the table, her lips parted and her chest burst with adrenaline when she felt Eddie's fingers cup her chin. His thumb brushed across her jaw and his fingers pressed beneath her chin so he could tilt her head so she was looking at him as he crouched down beside her.

"What was that?" His eyebrows raised high and the way he pursed his lips showed he was trying to distort a smile.

He knew what effect he had on her when he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip and gave it a slight pinch.

"Baby. I called you baby," (Y/n) leaned forward, brushing her chin against his wrist so she could reach out and cup his face in her hands and pull him in for a searing kiss. Her fingertips tapped against his skin and left tingling sparks in her wake while she sucked his lower lip between hers, trying her best to wind him up but keep him sweet.

"Did you?" His breath fanned against her lips and (Y/n) could feel how breathless he was, panting against her, his lips so close but barely touching. "I could have sworn you called me bossy."

He leaned forward to kiss her again and moved his hand round to cup the back of her neck. Until he felt something splash against his cheek and his eyes snapped open and a gasp left his lips.

Chris giggled, shrinking down in his seat when his dad's gaze fixed on him after he flicked his spoon at them, splattering them both with droplets of milk from his cereal bowl. He could see his dad was about to stand up and come over to him either to tickle him or tease him in some way, but just as Eddie stood up, his phone started to ring in his back pocket.

"Saved by the bell," He pointed a finger menacingly at Chris and mumbled 'it's Bobby' into (Y/n)'s hair as he kissed her temple again before he wandered into the kitchen.

Propping her head up on her hand, (Y/n) looked back down at her cereal which looked as unappealing as ever. But she figured Eddie was right, she really needed to eat something and if she left the cereal much longer it would go soggy and she wouldn't touch it. She managed three mouthfuls that all felt like stones settling in the pit of her stomach before her eyes locked on Eddie when he walked back into the dining room.

He looked pale. He was swirling his phone around in circles between his fingers and his free hand was opening and closing into a fist like he was stretching out his fingers.

Something was wrong.

"Everything okay?"

He started to tap his phone against his other palm and the action made (Y/n) tense and sit up straighter in her chair. Had something happened down at the station? Was everyone alright?

"I uh… I gotta go to work."

"What?" A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine and she couldn't stop herself from looking across the table at Chris.

They were supposed to be going out to the fayre today. A long drive out of town. Amusement rides. Games. Dinner. The plan wasn't going to work out very well if Eddie couldn't go with them. It was a family day, not a mother and son day which was very different and not planned out yet.

Chris didn't do well with change. Routines were everything and they made a point never to tell Chris about plans they made unless they were one hundred percent certain the plans would work out. If they told Chris they were going to the park on a certain day, that was what would happen come rain or shine, they would be at the park.

Ruined or changed plans meant the day shifted. Chris had gotten himself happy and geared up for this, if they spent the day at home he would be at a loss for what to do and it would set him right off balance.

"We're going out." Chris dropped his spoon into his half empty bowl and stared up at his dad with a crinkling nose and tightly pressed lips. It was more of a demand than a question or a statement. They were supposed to be going out. Now. What would of happened if they had already been in the car on their way to the fayre? Couldn't they just get in the car now and go?

Eddie slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned one hand on the back of (Y/n)'s chair while the other hand ran up and down his freshly shaved jaw.

"Buddy I… I know and I'm sorry, but I'm on call this week. Hen is off sick so I have to go in and cover the shift."

He felt (Y/n)'s hand move to rub over his lower back and when she leaned her temple against his waist, he moved his hand to grip her shoulder.

The thought of being on call had slipped Eddie's mind completely. They had today planned for over a week and told Chris three days ago what the plans were. It wasn't very often that anyone on call usually had to go into shift. When someone rang in sick, they called round other workers to see if anyone wanted overtime and if they didn't, then the last resort was whoever was on call that week. Half the time Eddie got an extra fifty bucks just for being on call and he never had to go on shift.

Until today.

"No."

"Chris I don't have a choice, buddy I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, we can go tomorrow-"

"No!"

He didn't want to go tomorrow. He didn't want to go next week. Chris wanted to go today, like they planned, as they should do. He had barely slept last night, waiting in anticipation to get up and get ready to go out. He had been excited for the past few days waiting to go out today and now they weren't going.

And he knew (Y/n) couldn't take him on her own because she was pregnant so even if they went, they couldn't go on any of the rides together. The rides were something Chris and Eddie always did together while (Y/n) would watch and take photos for them. Chris wanted Eddie to go, he wanted a family day out with both his parents.

A jolt ran down (Y/n)'s spine and she jumped back in her chair when Chris slammed his hands down on the table. She wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not, but one of his hands hit the cereal bowl and sent it rolling into the middle of the table. The spoon flew through the air and clattered onto the floor, a sheet of milk spread across the wooden table along with multicoloured hoops that scattered all across the table and the floor.

(Y/n) tilted her head down and took a shallow breath while Eddie took a step back and shook his arms out at his sides to fling off the milk that sprayed all over his front.

"Christopher sit down please."

Using the table as leverage, (Y/n) pushed up to her feet and hovered one hand on Eddie's shoulder as she walked in front of him to try and go to Chris. She could feel Eddie's hands hovering over her waist as she reached out to take Chris's hand when he scrambled down from the table and went to run away.

"Baby please its-" As soon as (Y/n)'s hand curled around Chris's upper arm, he flung himself around at her and screamed. He slapped her hand away and dropped down to the floor on his bum, kicking his feet out at her to get her to leave him alone.

He didn't want touch. He didn't want comfort or promises or words to soothe him. He wanted to scream, hit, thrash and knock down everything in his path until the world felt like it was going in the right direction again and everything was back to how it should be. What was he supposed to do now? His day was ruined, he wasn't going out where he wanted to go and he wouldn't be with both his parents. For the rest of the day, possibly the rest of the week, all Chris was going to think about was the fact that today was ruined and he didn't get to go out.

That was going to be his focus whether he wanted it to be or not.

When his foot lashed out into her leg, (Y/n) stepped back into Eddie and leaned her hips against the table. This was going to be (Y/n)'s day in a nutshell when Eddie left for work.

She could feel Eddie's lips press to the back of her head and his hands squeezed her hips tightly so he could turn her to the side and move in front of her towards Chris. He watched for a few seconds as their son thrashed on the floor, slamming his heels into the floor and bashing his palms down until they were going to be inflamed and throbbing.

"Go to your room."

"Go away! Get off. Go away!" His face was as red as a tomato and his cheeks puffed out with each ragged, deep breath he took to try and fuel the anger burning within him. Chris could barely breathe with how badly he kept thrashing and fidgeting and a very loud scream left his lips as his glasses fell off the bridge of his nose and hung around his neck.

His hands clenched into small fists and he bashed them into Eddie's arms when Eddie leaned over him and gripped his sides beneath his armpits.

With a deep breath and a clenched jaw, Eddie hoisted Chris up to his feet and nudged him towards the corridor. He knew the rules. If he wanted to behave like this and have a meltdown then he had to go to his room. They understood he couldn't control they way he felt and the way certain changes upset him and a meltdown was Chris's way of releasing those feelings.

Mostly Chris would scream. He would scream and wave his hands or throw himself onto the floor, and then he would spend the next hour or so calming down and trying to level himself back out. But more recently his meltdowns were progressing to hitting. He would hit the walls- not punch, but slam his palm into the wall, he would sit on the floor and bash his hands down. Sometimes he would hit himself if he was very worked up.

If he had to do that, he needed to be in his room. He had toys he could throw and a bed he could toss himself onto and thrash around on because it was soft and safe so he wouldn't hurt himself.

"Go to your room." Eddie kept his tone level and his expression placid and stoic because the last thing either of them needed was to get into a screaming match.

He let go of Chris and stepped back, pointing towards the hallway until Chris screamed and turned around to leave. As he shuffled down the hall, he spread his arms out like wings and bashed his hands into the walls. Not enough to do any damage like Eddie had done in the past, but enough to make an echo vibrate in his wake.

"It's not your fault," Reaching up, (Y/n) curled her arms around Eddie's shoulders and pressed her lips against his shoulder, moulding her rounded stomach into his lower back. She could feel him shaking from the tension coursing through him and each breath he took started to run away from him.

It couldn't be helped. They should have remembered Eddie was on call this week and changed their day out to next week when there was no chance of bumps in the road happening like this.

Her lips moved from his shoulder to smother the side of his neck when he reached his hands up and gripped her wrists tightly, as if making sure she wasn't about to let go. Eddie tilted his head to the right, leaning his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head as he stared down the corridor, shuddering when they both heard Chris's door slam closed.

"I can't leave when he's like this,"

"I'll sort him out, you go get ready for work. He'll calm down in a bit."

"It's only a twelve hour shift, I'll be back tonight."

By the time Eddie walked out the front door, (Y/n) could no longer hear Chris screaming or throwing things around his room. She decided it might be safe to go in and see if he wanted to talk yet.

"Baby, can I come in?"

(Y/n) gingerly opened the door and peeked her head round to see the damage and see where Chris was. All the soft toys were out of their box and strewn about on the bed which was a little odd. The race cars, fire trucks and harder toys were scattered across the floor, none of them looked broken but most looked like they had been in a traffic accident. Turned upside down with wheels still spinning.

And then there was Chris, curled up in the middle of his bed. Arms coiled into his chest, knees up to his stomach as he laid on his side with his back to the door. Even from the distance, (Y/n) could see his shoulders quaking and she noticed the deep breaths he was trying to take. The meltdown either wasn't quite finished or it hadn't worn off yet.

"Baby…" (Y/n) slowly slumped herself down onto the bed behind him and leaned up against the headboard. Her arm curved around the top of his head and she placed her other hand on his arm, testing the waters to see if physical touch was okay or not. "Are you okay?"

For a few seconds, Chris didn't answer or acknowledge that she was even in the room with him. But then he slowly flopped over onto his back and then he flipped again so he was laid on his other side, facing her.

He stretched an arm out and laid it across (Y/n)'s waist before he gingerly shuffled closer until he could bury his face into her chest. She didn't miss the way he huffed and shimmied against her stomach. Chris wasn't a fan of her being pregnant. He wasn't yet accustomed to the idea of having a sibling in the house or the thought of sharing his parents with someone else. And he did not like (Y/n)'s stomach changing because he couldn't hug her properly now with a six-month bump in the way.

"Dad gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone to work." (Y/n) leaned down and kissed his temple and slowly started to drag her fingers through his curls, brushing them back in a way she knew always made Chris calm down.

It felt like Chris wanted to say something more but he wasn't in the mood to talk yet. He nuzzled his face further into her shirt and wiggled around her stomach to cuddle as close as he could. (Y/n) had a knowing feeling that another meltdown was going to happen at some point during the day, Chris was going to explode again at some point.

But for now, they would stay like this until he wanted to move or fall asleep.

***

Eddie didn't bother to turn the lights on when he walked through the front door. He could walk the house blindfolded. He kicked off his shoes, feeling the soles of his feet burning from having almost no time to sit down today.

He did his best to pad across the floor as quietly as he could. It was midnight and he didn't want to disturb Chris if he was finally asleep and the last thing he wanted to do was wake (Y/n). Every muscle in Eddie's body ached as he trudged across into the kitchen and finally turned the light on, wincing at how bright it was when he had driven home on the dimly lit streets.

Reaching the kitchen side, Eddie slumped one arm down on the counter, supressing a groan as he stretched up into the top cupboard to grab the first aid box.

It was times like these when he regretted what he had done tonight.

Going to a fight after shift wasn't planned, Eddie didn't go to work with the intention of stopping off at one of the late fighting rings on the way home from work. But one of his old pals from the fights had sent him a message, like he did every few weeks when they had a big match going on.

After the horrid shift he had just been on where two people had died and the team had spent all day at a crash site, Eddie didn't want to go home feeling the way he did. It was the last thing he needed, to go home with a fire burning in his gut and pain coursing through his blood. It wouldn't be fair to his family to take that torment home with him.

That message seemed to pop up at just the right time and Eddie found himself turning off and heading straight there on his way home.

He carefully laid the aqua blue box down in front of him and clicked it open with a grimace.

Pulling back, he took a deep breath, grabbed the hem of his shirt and rolled it up. Spit foamed past his lips as he hissed and growled when he tore the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

"Fuck."

He didn't realise he had been messed up this badly. At least he won the fight.

Deep red circles mixed in with pale yellow and baby pink marks were painted across the right side of Eddie's chest just beneath his armpit and the colours curved around to his abs. There was a smaller, lesser mark on the lower left part of his ribcage. A burning crimson and purple mark was swelling on his right arm right in the centre of his bicep, a foot down from his shoulder.

He had a jagged purple line stretching from his collar bone up to his neck and when Eddie looked down at his knuckles, he winced. Swollen, cherry purple, lathered in dried blood. And he didn't have to touch his right cheekbone to know it was starting to swell.

He wouldn't be able to hide this from his wife.

Eddie didn't sleep in a shirt, (Y/n) would become suspicious if he did. The markings on his chest he might just get away with by saying they happened on the job, it had been a rough shift. But when she saw his busted knuckles she was going to know something had happened. She wasn't stupid or naïve.

He did his best to be quiet as he grabbed a dish cloth and soaked it under the cold tap before he pinned it against his chest beneath his arm, biting down on his tongue to stop from groaning when icy shivers sparked through his nerves.

Anticeptic wipes cleansed his knuckles and revealed mostly bruises rather than cuts, Thank God. The cream made him groan and made each sting and ache triple and his body started to throb when he lathered each bruise in as much cream as he could. He needed these marks to disappear as fast as possible.

"Baby?" Tiredness dripped from (Y/n)'s voice as she slowly shuffled down the corridor, one hand on her lower back and the other rubbing her eyes to try and keep them open.

She had been half asleep, about to drift off when she heard the front door open and close. (Y/n) never slept well without Eddie beside her.

Eddie spun round on his heels as his jaw dropped open and his eyes swelled with panic. What was she doing awake at this hour? He didn't even hear the bedroom door open. He thought he was safer patching himself up in the kitchen rather than the bathroom that was right next to their bedroom.

His mind short-circuited and he became momentairily distracted when his eyes landed on his wife as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. He raked his eyes up and down, unable to stop from licking his lips when he drank her in. She wasn't wearing a shirt. She was wearing a black bra and a pair of his black pyjama shorts that hung low on her hips, tucked beneath her bump that was on full display.

But Eddie snapped back to reality when (Y/n)'s smile faded and her eyes widened. She hurried forward and planted her hands down on his neck, tilting his head down towards her as her frantic, worried eyes did three sweeps up and down over his body.

"What happened?!"

The cold cloth dropped to the floor when Eddie lifted his arms and gently cupped her wrists. His thumbs brushed across her flushed skin and he tried to smile, leaning forward to peck her lips but it didn't distract her nearly enough as he'd hoped.

She shook her hands from his grasp and trailed her fingertips along each bruise and mark on his skin, tensing when he flinched or growled at the tender spots.

"It's nothing mi amor. It's late, let's go to bed."

"Eddie, what have you been doing? Baby you're black and blue, tell me."

He could feel the way her fingertips started to shake against him and she stepped closer to observe his marks and tender wounds. She wouldn't let him hold her hands or try to move them both away from the kitchen. He wasn't getting out of this conversation no matter how hard he tried.

"I'm fine," His fingers cupped her chin and he tilted her head up, capturing her lips in a kiss and swallowing the gasp she let out. He could almost feel her resolve fading when his hand moved to cup the side of her face and he kissed her deeper. But then he felt her palms pressing into his chest, nudging him back so she could come up for air.

"You've been at the fights again, haven't you?" Apprehension flooded (Y/n)'s voice as she took a tentative step back to add some distance between them so Eddie couldn't try and distract her again.

He didn't need to speak, his face said it all.

"Why?" (Y/n) let herself lean against the counter while her hand moved to clamp down on her hip, squeezing tightly to try and help control her tone and keep her voice quiet. It had taken her over two hours to get Chris to sleep, she didn't want to wake him by arguing with Eddie.

"You know why. I feel better when I fight, I don't come home angry or… or feeling like I need to explode. It's not a big deal."

"It's… Eddie look at yourself, how is that not a big deal?" Her hand left her hip and waved across at him to try and prove her point. How could he stand there and pretend this was nothing but a little brawl outside a club that ended with a few scratches? He was bloodied and bruised, he was in pain. This was a very big deal to (Y/n).

"It's a few bruises, baby. I can handle this, look I'm okay. I get worse on bad day at work." He went to take a step closer to her, his hands stretched out in front of him but he stopped when (Y/n)'s jaw locked and both her hands moved to her hips.

"That's not the point and you know it."

"Look, you never had a problem with it before. If I remember right, you came to at least three of my fights so why is this any different?"

Eddie let his hips fall back against the counter and he folded his arms across his chest, puncturing his teeth into his lower lip to hide the grimace he felt when his arms rubbed his sore chest. His jaw set tight and his eyes narrowed on his wife as he waited for an answer.

When he started out at the fights in the parking lots, Eddie had (Y/n) standing behind him, watching and praising him and having her there pushed him to win. He loved those nights when (Y/n) came along with him, he loved having her in his corner and seeing her smile when he came out on top. But she never came to the darker fights. The indoor ones in a closed gym under headlamps. Eddie wouldn't take her to those even if he always looked around for her face when he won.

He didn't want her there around those people. Eddie trusted them in a fight, but he wouldn't trust anyone there out of the ring.

He didn't like the way (Y/n) scoffed as if he'd just told her a silly joke that didn't make sense or as if he'd just lied to her face.

And he found himself tensing and taking a deeper breath when he watched her jut her hip out and switch her weight to the other leg. Her left hand curled around the countertop but Eddie's eyes focused on her other hand that was running along her stomach. She was distracting him even if she didn't mean to.

"I didn't have a problem with you fighting for fun but I have a big problem with you fighting illegally for money. What if the next guy you knock out isn't as lucky as the last one? Will you stay and give medical help or do CPR until they put you in cuffs?"

(Y/n) may not have been to any of Eddie's illegal fights, but when he came home he always told her about them. He told her about the last one that happened four months ago which happened to be the reason he stopped going to those fights.

The man Eddie fought had taken too much of a beating. Eddie broke his nose so violently his cartilage shattered and he began to choke. No one was pleased when Eddie called for an ambulance and took the broken fragments out the man's throat and left him in the recovery position. He knew he had taken things too far that night, he should have stopped himself but he didn't want to and Eddie couldn't do that again.

He cracked tonight when he got the message but he held himself back, he won the fight but he did it safely, he didn't pummel his opponent almost to death.

"That wouldn't happen-"

"You don't know that Eddie! You didn't think you'd fight so hard you would break a guy's nose last time but that happened."

(Y/n) tilted her head back and let a shuddering breath escape past her lips. He wasn't seeing this from her point of view. It was all well and good if he went fighting for fun or to release some energy and stress, (Y/n) would never judge him for that and she knew her husband was a good fighter. But this wasn't right. Eddie was fighting somewhere unsafe where they had no rules and no one would help if someone got seriously hurt.

"I won't make that mistake again." His tone lowered down into a deep growl as he braced his hands on each side of the kitchen counter and hunched forward with tense shoulders.

"What if you're the one to get hurt next?" (Y/n)'s hand tightened around the counter when her stomach suddenly twisted.

She clicked her spine into place and tilted to the side a little to try and relieve the tension building up in her stomach that made her want to be sick. She could feel her breaths running away from her and the more Eddie argued with her, the more anxious she could feel herself becoming.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line and she started to press her palm harder against the lower side of her abdomen to try and settle the baby and the growing sickness she was feeling.

"I haven't lost one yet. I know what I'm doing, baby." The way he said her name made a shiver roll down (Y/n)'s spine and another jolt sparked through her stomach. She could see his fingers tightening around the counter tops and he arched forward until he was pushing his weight onto his hands and his feet were barely touching the floor.

"And so do they. They don't give a shit how badly you get hurt and if it was you that got knocked out they'd leave you there, for dead. They might not have families to go home to, but you do Eddie. I'm not raising two kids by myself."

(Y/n) could feel the blood rushing to her head as she spoke and shivers coursed beneath her skin that was prickling with goosebumps. The other people he fought against might not care about the people waiting at home for them, but that wasn't the case for Eddie. He had a family and (Y/n) didn't like the risk he was taking. If someone hurt Eddie badly, who there would call the emergency services for him? What if they left him and no one got to him in time? What if the police turned up and he got arrested?

She had those kind of worries already with the job Eddie did but at least (Y/n) knew when he was at the station, he was looked after. If anything ever happened to Eddie on the job, he had the team there to give him the best chance and watch his back and look out for him.

He didn't have that when he was fighting.

Eddie swallowed down the groan that burned at the back of his throat and dropped his weight back down to his feet. He turned around and moved over to the sink, rinsing his knuckles under the cold water to try and clean them and turn them numb for a while. Anything to distract him from this conversation that was turning into an argument.

"Nobody said you'd raise them alone," He whispered the words under his breath but he knew (Y/n) heard him when he heard her move. "I always come home to you, don't I?"

"That's not a guarantee!" (Y/n) snapped her jaw like that of a crocodile and hissed the words through clenched teeth. "You can't promise me that, not when you're risking your life with the team. And you can't guarantee you'll be fine when you're fighting in that ring. It's…"

A sigh passed through Eddie's lips and he turned off the tap, shaking his trembling hands in the sink as he pressed his lips into a thin line when he waited but (Y/n) didn't carry on talking. He reached across and grabbed the tea towel, roughly tossing it between his hands but when he turned on his heels to look over at his wife, his chest tightened. His stomach tensed and his brows narrowed as he took in her state.

(Y/n) was slumped forward, one arm folded on the counter and one leg bent forward so her lower back and bum were arched out. In any other situation Eddie would have smirked at the way she was stood but he could feel the panic dwelling in the pit of his stomach when (Y/n) pressed her forehead down into her arm.

He didn't get to say a word before (Y/n) groaned against the counter and he realised her other hand was cradling her bare stomach.

"Mi amor what's wrong?"

Advancing over to her, Eddie flopped his right arm on the counter so he could crouch over her and his other hand rested on her lower back just above the hem of her shorts. His upper lip curled when (Y/n) turned her head to face the other way and she pulled away from him and tried to shake his hand off her back.

"You're stressing me out!" (Y/n) reached her hand out and slapped his arm away before she turned her back to him and tried to straighten up.

Her hand moved to brush beneath her eyes, swiping away the tears starting to fall down the bridge of her nose. And her other hand stayed against her stomach, applying pressure as she rubbed circles into her skin to try and take away the twinging pains.

Deep breaths didn't take away the light-headed feeling or calm down the panic that was coursing through her blood and making her fingertips turn numb.

(Y/n) tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she sniffed, trying her best not to cry but it wasn't working. Her stomach was really starting to hurt now. Her fingernails pinched into her stomach to try and distract herself and when she felt Eddie's hands on her arms and his chest mould up against her back, she fought in vain to shake him off but she didn't have the energy.

He only became persistent, moving his hands down from her arms to hold her hips tightly so she couldn't push him away.

"Baby go sit down,"

"This is your fault." Her words made Eddie wince and he thought she was about to push him away but she didn't seem to know what she wanted to do. Her hand moved back and settled on his lower arm, gripping ferociously tight while her other hand stayed cupping her stomach and her chin pressed down into her chest.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry baby. I'm sorry," He whispered each word against the side of (Y/n)'s head as he gently nudged her to walk and guided her out of the kitchen, towards the living room that was basked in darkness.

He turned her round and helped her slump down onto the sofa and he hated the way she flopped her head onto the arm rest and tried to curl up. (Y/n) heard him turn on the lamp before his footsteps retreated back into the kitchen.

(Y/n) kept trying to rub circles across her stomach as she let her tears soak into the sofa and she jumped when she suddenly felt Eddie's hands on her waist. He gently nudged her until she was slumped back into the sofa instead of curled up and her chest tightened when he crouched down in front of her. His fingers curled around her thighs and raked up beneath her shorts so he could slowly part her legs and kneel between her thighs.

She felt the sharp breath he took when her knees pressed into his torso but he didn't say anything. His hands trailed up her thighs and over her stomach until he grabbed one of her hands and she realised he had brought the blood pressure cuff through with him.

She let him slide the cuff up her arm and waited through the discomfort of the band tightening around her arm making tingles shoot down to her fingers. (Y/n) wanted to close her eyes but she couldn't find the will power, all she could do was lock her gaze on her husband.

His eyes burned bright with intensity as he watched the monitor beep and flash before he raked his hands up and took the cuff off. He didn't give (Y/n) chance to speak before he held his fingers over her wrist and took her pulse.

"How bad are the pains?" Eddie dropped her wrist and moved his hands to grip her thighs while he sat back on his heels. His hands dug reassuringly into her flesh and he was relieved when (Y/n) moved her hand down to hold his wrist and she didn't push him away or shrink away from his touch.

"Mild cramps," (Y/n) dropped her eyes between her stomach and Eddie as she spoke quietly.

"Are you sure?" Eddie leaned forward to kiss her thigh when she bit her lip but nodded. "Your blood pressure is high, if it stays high or the pains don't go I'm taking you to the doctor in the morning."

(Y/n) moved her hand from his wrist so she could tangle her fingers through his hair, brushing the damp strands away from his forehead while he perched his chin on her thigh. Something softened in his eyes like melting chocolate and the way he stared at her made (Y/n) shiver and she could feel her resolve fading away by the second.

"I didn't mean to worry you or start an argument, I won't do those kind of fights anymore, mi amor. I swear."

Eddie moved his arms around (Y/n)'s waist when she leaned forward and buried her nose in his hair. Her cheek pressed against the top of his head and her hands cradled his neck when he pushed up and moved to kiss her bare stomach. His fingertips pressed into the back of her hips as he held her as tightly as he could, smothering himself against her.

He didn't want to make her worry or become ill, he wouldn't go into the ring anymore. Not now he could see how much it was jeopardising his family and making them worry.

[verlaineszz]

hi!! Can you write a yandere ghost dazai x human fem reader fic?

A/N: of course!! (✦ ‿ ✦) I've been actually meaning to write a ghost dazai but a yandere? Oohhhhh sounds great! :D, thanks for submitting this lovely request of yours anon(≧▽≦)!

YOUR SILHOUETTE A PALE MIST, BURY ME IN YOUR KISS!

ᯓ ⁺₊ ๋࣭ ⭑♡— YANDERE! GHOST! Dazai X HUMAN FEM! Reader!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ SUMMARY: Nearby a forest, there was a 1862 Victorian Mansion that still had strong walls and doors that stood strong against winds and storms. But there was something weird about the home, the past owners of the home were either found dead or moved out for good after just a week.

It was rumoured that it was haunted by a vengeful spirit, but no one dared to banish it or call in a priest.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ☠︎︎— HORROR + ANGST + SUGGESTIVE(?) + FLUFF

A/N: FINALLY A NORMAL REQUEST!! anyway, this fanfic may be abit long but apologies since you never really specified your preference for the fic but I'll try!! :D i haven't written yandere in a year so let's see what i can do. （＾ω＾）

𓂃 ࣪˖ ༒︎— WARNINGS : Blood, Death, Suggestive (?) , cursing, SLIGHT(???) GORE

You were currently moving in the old 1862 Victorian Mansion that was rumored to be haunted, obviously it was sold pretty cheap through the online site and the decor of it was absolutely marvelous, which made you not even care if it was haunted or not.. It was so cheap and so beautiful that how could you not buy it?..

The boxes of your things are already in your home and all you have to do is to unpack. You started unpacking and moving things around.

During your little unpacking session, you were gonna walk up the stairs but notice that there was this portrait shape that was covered with a red cloth that wasn't shown in the pictures online, you put the boxes down and decided to remove the cloth. When you slowly slipped the red cloth off the big portrait, there showed a man wearing a white jabot, blue and gold coat and a soft smile. This made you take a step back and look up and down to analyze the painting, the painting of the ridiculously attractive man.. Weird as hell!

You scoff and turn around to continue unpacking your things, but the second you turned around, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You ignored the feeling and continue unpacking.

While you were unpacking, dazai— the phantom of the house that is the original owner of the home was watching you, it was new to him.. A female unmarried tenant? This might be his best bet to scare the living shit of you, since he hasn't gotten a female tenant yet.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The unpacking was done and you were visibly tired, immediately crashing on the red floral patterned couch that was in the living room. The whole place looked old but aesthetically pleasing. There was a fireplace, a grand piano, a grandfather clock, bookshelf and a coffee table with a wood vase of belledonna. You sigu and cross your legs, tilting your headback, this scene wasn't unnoticed by the ghost of dazai osamu. He was watching you with curious intent, he was sure that he'd have you dead or gone in no time since he never liked anybody living in his home. But since you were.. Really pretty.. Why not toy with you for a bit before placing your life in a casket?

During the first night, you were there on the bed in your new room, scrolling on your phone before looking at the time, it was 9:56 pm..you gotta take a shower before going to bed since you had work tomorrow. You stood up and removed your clothing before grabbing a robe and entering the bathroom, you turn the water on and began showering, as you showered, you still felt a creep run down your spine, as if you were being watched.

In dazai point of view, he was staring at your bare face, he smirked and checked you up and down.. Seeing your hips, thighs, waist.. And... He chuckled silently, seeing you showering without a clue that you were being watched, he quickly left and decided to give you some privacy.

After showering, you slid into a thin night gown before laying down on the canopy bed and scrolling on your phone, but as you laid down it felt strangely cold, the windows were closed so how could this be cold? You wondered before the bedside lights started ti flicker, but you quickly dismissed it as old house quirks— "must be some random Victorian magic or something.." you mutter before you continue scrolling on your phone, dazai continued to observe you in the shadows, sometimes moving places from time to time to look like shadows were moving which you unfortunately did not notice.

He pouted as he noticed that you didn't see the subtle appearances he did before planning of a way to get a reaction out of you.

You put down your phone and decided to sleep, it was now 10:23 and you really needed sleep. You stare at the canopy beds ceiling before slowly closing your eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly, a sight that dazai found warm. He stared at you with a grin as the moonlight through the window shined upon your body.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧+

When you woke up, you felt like a hand was playing with you hair.. You immediately sat up straight and looked around, feeling spooked before taking a deep breath and getting out of bed to get ready to go to work then meet up with your boyfriend.

Whem you left, dazai stayed there, thinking about how to scare you even more, so when you left, he rearranged some of the stuff in yours house, small mischievous giggles came out of his mouth while doing so.

A few hours later.. The second you arrive back home and bring in your boyfriend, dazais expression from afar turned im disgust, obviously he didn't like other men in his house, especially when the man was with you when he just got a pretty lady in his humble abode!

your boyfriend wasn't really the most supportive person in the world or nicest.. He was just there, you didn't even know how you and him managed to get together when the whole relationship only felt one sided.

"This place looks.. Err.. Old.. You like this shit?" your boyfriend asked with a unimpressed look.

This left dazai pissed since he wasn't only in his house and taking you away from him but he was also insulting your choice in houses..

You and your boyfriend walked up the stairs to your room for some alone time, he sat there on your bed in a reckless way, he just laid there like he owned the place. He scrolled on his phone as you sit beside him on the right side of the bed and hug his arm, your boyfriend clearly couldn't care less which made dazai grumble silently in the corner of darkness.

You and your boyfriend were.. "cuddling" on your bed as he scrolled on his phone, probably lookin at other women before dazai got fed up and whispered something in his left ear to scare him— "get out, you scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens a little, looking at you with a pretty annoyed look, "did you just call me something?.." he looked at you, visibly pissed, pushing your arm away from him. "What?? I didn't?" you replied back with an innocent look, dazai watched the scene, not wanting to resort to something else to not scare you away from him, he looks at your innocent face, though he can see you, both of you amd your boyfriend couldn’t see him.

"yeah right." your boyfriend scoffed, moving you away from him before he continue scrolling back on his phone, dazai clearly picked up that your boyfriend did not get the memo.

A few minutes later, your boyfriend stands up, eyes glued to his phone— "im gonna go find the bathroom."

When he found the bathroom, he did his business and started to wash his hands, The bathroom had a bathtub with gold stands, a small chandelier, a mirror, a silver faucet and a white and gold marbled sink, on the sink was some soap and a razors. The lights started suddenly flickering, your boyfriend scoffed in Annoyance. "why the hell did that bitch buy such a shabby old house..?!" he muttered while washing his hands before met with a cold feeling behind him, he ignored the feeling but it was obviously lingering. His eyes were just on his hands as he washed and washed and washed, he kept coating his hands with soap as he continue rubbing violently, the lights started flickering more frantically. "fuck"

A whisper was heard from behind your boyfriends back, "off", your boyfriend gulps as he washed his hands more violently, he couldn't move. He couldn't look up. He didn't wanna look at the mirror infront of him to see what was behind. "scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens as he started to shake, he felt a hand wrap around his throat tightly, he looked up and saw nothing behind him but he felt something wrapped around his neck that was choking him. He coughed and coughed but when he looked down back to the running water and his hands, his hands were bleeding. Most of his hands skin was torn off, he looked at what he was holding and it was the blades. He hasn't been washing his hands the whole time.. He was getting cut.

He immediately sprinted out the bathroom, leaving the water and light on. You heard the opening of door bang againts the wall, you stood up from your bed and looked outside your room, by the time you went ouside your room, you saw your boyfriend sprint out of your house. "Hey! Wait! Where are you going!!" you yelled with a concerned tone, but when you yelled it, he was already gone. Your eyebrows furrowed in disappointment, your shoulders slumped, not understanding why he just left all of the sudden.

Dazai on the other hand was overjoyed. He even turned the sink and lights off for you to not waste water and electricity. Ah.. Only if you knew what he did.. He just saved you from your little toxic relationship, he really wanted to hear your voice praise him.

The day after that, you tried texting your boyfriend to only be met with blocked profiles and one messags, "we're done."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The haunting within your home escalates, multiple of your things was dissappearing or either misplaced somewhere.. There were nights where you'd be on your phone scrolling while comfortably laid down on your bed where you could hear whispers. It was either your name or threats— "Get out." - "[Your name], [Your name]"

It was a smooth deep voice that whispered subtly in your ear that gave you chills running down your spine, this honestly frightened you but you already paid full and moved all your stuff in so there was no way a little ghost or hallucination was gonna make you move out! Especially since this might've been the reasom why your son of a bitch boyfriend broke up with you, so.. why not keep the house?

The more you didn't budge through dazais antics, the more you pique dazais interest and attraction. You laid there on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you felt the vacant part of your bed get cold. You sigh— "does it always get cold whenever im not around?.." you mutter, still quite sad from the newly break up text before going back on your phone, suddenly one of your coats that was hung on the coat hanger on the side of room fell, you sigh in Annoyance and stood up, putting it back before you were met with a hand caressing your waist, "eek!" you squeeled before turning around to be met with.. Nothing.

You immediately ran back to your bed, hiding under the covers and forcing yourself to sleep, you stayed under the blankets, eye open and thinking about the situation. You're very sure now that it wasn't hallucinations and there really was something in your home, but the hand.. It felt human. It was cold but soft and gentle, not like the hands of your ex boyfriend.. You thought about more of the relationship between you and your boyfriend and realize that he never actually exchanged touches with you.. You were the one always handing it out but he never gave it back, this made your stomach hurl and you slowly slipped the blanket off of your upper body for air.. You stared at the canopy beds ceiling and tears left your eyes, "that bastard.." you mutter as you cried, you suddenly covered your face with your hands and groaned, turning to your side and cried in anger and sorrows.

The same gentle hands were on your waist, the hands that caressed you with deep devotion that you've never experienced before.. This is what you craved for.. You turn around and see nothing, you look around and you sit up, the room was dimly lit by the moonlight, casting a silvery glow over the old furniture. You wipe your tears before hearing a deep suave voice— "Don't cry now, bella.. Don't let tears stain your pretty face."

You feel your breath bunch up in your throat, "who are you?.." you mutter, trying to hide your fear.

"mm.. Nobody." dazai replies back, his voice was everywhere.. You couldn't tell where it was coming from.. If it was from left, right, front or from behind, the non visible hand on your waist slowly went down, giving a small squeeze to your hips before you woke up.

The sun was raised high as you looked at your window, you sit up and rub your eyes.. Was it all just a dream? Why did it felt so real? And why did you crave more of those little touches?..

The little touches that dazai gave you was subtle but full of devotion, he didn't even know that he would become so intrigued by you this quickly that he wanted to watch your every single move. He looked at you staring at nothing, perhaps you were in deep thought in his eyes..

He loved the way your lips would turn into a smile, he loved how your brows would furrow, he loved the way you breathed, the way you talked, the way you move, it was all fascinating to him.. He has been alone and lonely in the Victorian Mansion without any suitors..and you were visibly his type.

You started off you day with breakfast then taking a shower, you take off your clothes and looked at the mirror before hanging your towel, just when you were gonna turn around, you see a figure with brunette hair with their elbow on the sink edge and resting their face against their palm in a flash, you look back but nothing was there. You shrugged it off and continue to take a shower.

After showering and getting ready, you researched about the mansion and learned that there was an earl who used to own it but unfortunately died due to a murder, his name was dazai osamu, he was known to be popular amongst the ladies back in the 1860's before he died in 1872. You checked the pictures of him and it was exactly like the portrait by the stairs..

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Every single night became intimate, you always saw him in your dreams and you always felt like you were getting watched.. Which turned invasive, dazai just wanted every part of you.

Night after night, he always gave you touch without showing hisself, but you already knew what he looked like through the painting.. But what made you feel guilty was that you couldn't touch him back, though his touches were random at night, it still gave you chills.

You lay calmly on your bed, you stare at the canopy beds ceiling as the nonvisible hand moves the hair out of your face, this was weird.. And you knew you needed to end it some way somehow.

Dazais feelings of making you stray away or die were now completely gone, he just wanted you by his side. He wanted you to be his.

You move to your side and look up, only to be met with a young man with brunette hair, brown eyes and a gentle smile. Your eyes widens and you look at him, was this really him?.. He grins and he caresses your cheek, "Do you enjoy my company, bella?" he asked in a soft suave tone, your eyes quickly relaxes as you slightly blush— "i guess so."

RING! RING! RING! Aw.. It was your stupid alarm, you open your eyes and look to the side to be met with nothing.. This was the first time you genuinely saw his face up close in real life.. You sigh and get ready for your day to go back to work.

You get ready and go down the stairs, trying to find your keys.

Dazai on the other hand, was holding your keys, he didn't want you Going anywhere. You looked and looked and looked.. But to no avail, nothing. Your workplace was pretty far and since you were near the woods, little to no cabs were around so you decided to call in sick. You began undressing, removing your work clothes and slipping into something more comfortable...

Dazais plans were to stop you from leaving the house in every single possible way. Night falls dark and the moon had risen up, leaving a pale glow outside, you were currently trying to think of what houses would be possible to stay in to finally escape the ghost who played games with you but as you were thinking on your bed, you went on your laptop and you scrolled on homes that were available, while you were scrolling, the laptop immediately closed as a hand wrapped around your waist, feeling a cold aura behind you. "what were you looking at bella?" he rests his chin on your shoulder, you sat there frozen before turning to him and being met with his pretty face.. His pale skin and brunette hair was a criminal combination, his face was so close to yours as he hugged you tightly from behind.

"..." you couldn't muster up a sentence.. "You aren't thinking about leaving me.. Are you [Your name]?.." he looked at you with pretty eyes.

"i.. Was just looking at houses." you replied back with a half life half truth statement. Dazai clinged onto you, it felt oddly comforting.. "You know im just here to protect you, Right? I'll treat you waaay better than that little ex of yours, my dear." he whispered in your ear in a possesive tone, blush crept up to your cheeks as he held you tightly, you looked at him and his gaze fell onto your lips, he examined your pretty face, though he was dead, he felt oddly giddy because he gets to hold you while your pretty face was close to his.

"You'll stay with me, got it? You're mine and no one else's."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Dazais desire to be with you turned insanely strong, so strong that be believed in something obsessive, every day he'd find ways to try and painlessly take your life without even realizing it, you already knew. You walked around the halls in your home knowing that at any second, the ghost who haunted you could come and just swoop you, you were confused why he wanted to kill you? You thought he loved you.. So why did he want to kill you?

You decided to confront him about it. As soon as it hit nightfall, you laid down on your bed and waited for his presence to immerge since his energy was stronger during night, as you feel his soft cold hands touch you waist, you grab his hand and turn to him, "What the hell have you been trying to do..!?" you ask in an angered confused tone.

He looks at you with slightly wide eyes before reverting back to normal, "oh whatever do you mean bella?" he tried to play it off.

"Why have you been trying to kill me!?"

"... I love you okay? I'm doing all of this for you." he said sternly, holding your hand softly and kissing peppering it with kisses.

Eventually the two of you broke out into a fight, though he tried to explain hisself, he really didn't wanna fight you. He just wanted you to understand that all he has done was for you. And he wanted for you to understand.

He gripping onto your waist, burying his face on the nape of your neck, his expression soft but disappointed..

"you really dont understand, don't you? I love you. And i'll do anything just to have you as mine."

His tone was low but it gave a hint of obsession.

"Please. Just dont go.. I- i can't keep being alone in this place. You're all i have." he muttered, his voice slightly whiny but full of sorrows as he held you tighter.

You felt awful, he loved you like no other and treated you better than anyone of your exes, though he was dead, he would love to kiss your lips again and again.

He held onto you tightly as you kept quiet, sighing before replying back— "If you keep this up, I'll move out. I'm serious."

Dazais eyes widens and the words that left your lips broke him since his body was buried under his house, his soul couldn't leave the mansion whatsoever, "Please! I can't lose you. Not now, not ever! Please! Give me a chance!" he gripped onto your clothing, "i love you more than my own existence, you're the only thing keeping me feel alive again and sane in this place, this place feels like an asylum! Don't.. Go." his voice cracked as he pleaded for you, tears was already beaded on his tear ducts, he didn't want you to go, he felt lost like some puppy, he just wanted you to stay with him, eternally.

He was so obsessed that he wanted to bind your soul with his so you could be his, together and forever in the afterlife.

A/N: originally, i was planning to make dazai kill reader but today i wanted to leave a cliffhanger. Thank you for reading and i really enjoyed this request!! :D I'll try to get into more yandere themes so i could do better in the future, thanks again anon for this lovely request of yours （＾ω＾）

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter two

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slight mind manipulation?

series masterlist; previous part; next part

At some point during the feast, you managed to sneak your way onto the Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat beside Ginny, who was sat with Dean Thomas to her other side, who shifted uncomfortably everytime Ron glared at the hand that was grazing his sister's.

"Nice face, Harold." you say sarcastically. "Who healed the break? It looks rushed."

"Thanks Meadow." he snarks before deflating further in his seat as your eyes tracked him for more injuries. "Tonks walked me from the train."

You hummed in acknowledgment before you went over the unhealed scabs and dried patches of blood with wordless spells which always left your friends marvelling at your skill.

"There. Now your face is pretty as ever." you say smirking, patting Harry's cheek which he swats away. "Can't have the 'Chosen One' at his worst now, can we?"

"Piss off." he grumbled but it was only banter between two friends.

"How are you, really, Harry? Where'd you disappear to on the train." you wanted to hear him say it, even if you did trust Theo's word.

"I was right about Malfoy-" he starts before you interrupt him.

"So I've heard. You've taken up stalking as a hobby now, Potter? That's low." you chuckle, which turns into a full on laugh as he glares at you, annoyed.

"He's a Death Eater." he lowers his voice, but his admission sucks the happiness right out of the air. "He was talking about some task that Voldemort has for him."

He pauses as if his mind is trying to catch up with the words tumbling from his mouth, before he looks directly at you, as if he's staring through you.

"You've seen Nott today right? And Parkinson?" you nodded. "What did they talk about? Did Nott talk about his father being caught at the Ministry? Or did-"

You raised a singular brow at your friend as if to say 'are you finished?'.

"Yes I saw them today, in the Prefects' carriage. We just caught up with small talk and some gossip about some Hufflepuff couple. Nothing more." the lie was quickly thought out and also not too far fetched – Pansy had mentioned something about a new couple in passing before you'd parted ways on the train.

"Nothing about tasks or creepy shops?" Ron asked as he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. You watched him, discust painting your features.

"Nothing about tasks, and certainly nothing about creepy shops. Please chew with your mouth closed, Ronald. Seriously Harry? Stalking?"

He only shrugged at you before turning to his plate of food. He was clearly put out about something and you would bet all your galleons that it had to do with the couple next to you, who were being nauseating, to put it lightly.

You and Hermione giggled as Ron muttered about his sister and her boyfriend showing any ounce of affection in front of him, sharing a glance as Harry continued to glance at them before looking away, visibly annoyed.

When Dumbledore began to stand in front of the House tables, you slipped back into your seat beside Luna; in the corner of your eye you watched as Theo gave you the subtlest of nods.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore announced, smiling broadly, his arms outstretched wide as if he were embracing the whole room. That's when you, and the rest of the Hogwarts student body, noticed that his right hand appeared to have started decaying at a rapid rate.

You made eye contact with Pansy who looked as horrified as everyone else.

What the fuck? She practically screamed into your mind as the sound of people whispering swept through the hall.

Dumbledore merely smiled before he shook the sleeve of his purple and gold cloak over his hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

You drowned out the rest of his speech, like you do every year, instead conversing with Pansy in your head.

It looks like his hand has physically died. You say to her. It's got to be dark magic of some sort.

But what business does Dumbledore have messing with that sort of evil? She sounded as nauseated as you felt just thinking about it.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn-" Dumbledore said, prompting the man that you had yet to meet to stand up. "-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

You swivelled in your seat to find Hermione in the crowds and mouthed 'potions?' to her with confusion written all over your face.

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"But if he's the Potions Professor, then who will be teaching Defence?" Cho spoke from across the table.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Well that answered that question.

"No!" you giggled quietly with Luna as everyone's heads swivelled back and forth between Harry, who had shouted so loudly but didn't seem to care, Snape and Dumbledore.

And suddenly Defence is my least favourite subject. Theo spoke, making you choke on your drink as you laugh.

As if oblivious to the uproar his announcement just caused, Dumbledore waited only a few moments before the hall descended into silence once more, before continuing his long winded speech.

"Now as everyone in this Hall is aware," he pointedly looked anywhere but in the direction of the Slytherin table, "Lord Voldemort and his followers once again walk among us and gain strength and numbers everyday."

Suddenly the heads that were staring in Harry's direction turned pointedly to where Mattheo Riddle and his friends were sitting. Instead of shying away from their gazes, like Pansy and Daphne Greengrass and few others did, he continued to stare ahead at Dumbledore, seemingly unbothered by the attention he was garnering.

The silence seemed to strain painfully as Dumbledore spoke. But you seemed to zone out of what he was saying. Something about the castle's protection wards being fortified and strengthened; extra security; stricter curfew at night, etc. You took in none of it, instead focusing on your friends at the Slytherin table, who grew paler by the second. You'd watch out for them this year, especially Theo. None of them deserved to be put into the position they no doubt would all be in, come Christmas time.

Dumbledore's blue twinkling eyes swept over the students once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Your lessons tomorrow.

You wished it was as simple as school work, but you knew it would be anything but.

~∞~

You woke up early the next morning, the anticipation for what the day may bring making your anxiety skyrocket as you got ready to leave for the Great Hall, in which the ceiling sported a brilliantly blue sky, only a few clouds dotting the illusion. You met the Golden trio there, who were busy discussing Harry's theory about Malfoy.

"Well obviously Riddle's already inducted." Ron muttered as you sat down, a speck of blue, in a sea of red. "He is his father's son, after all."

"Still going on your Malfoy-is-a-death eater spiel? The day has hardly begun." you said as you piled scrambled eggs onto a plate, ignoring the pointed look that Professor Mcgonagall gave you as she handed out her House's timetables.

Ron seemed to be getting more agitated by the second as another group of third years on the table beside your's pointed between the four of you and whispered, not so discreetly, about what happened in June.

"It's rude to point." he snapped, sending a glare their way, causing them to turn around, cheeks painted with embarrassment.

"So sixth year looks very bare in comparison to last year, doesn't it." you say, steering Ron's glare from the backs of their heads while you looked over his timetable.

"I love being a sixth year already." Ron said, his mood brightening visibly thanks to your interference. "And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up in the common room and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" Hermione berated as you laughed.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"I wouldn't speak too soon, Ronald." you say with a smirk as Professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to the four of you. You'd already gotten your timetable the from Professor Flitwick that morning and found out that you were in the same classes as Hermione. You both finished off your plates and left Harry and Ron in favour of getting to Ancient Runes, where Theo and Riddle were waiting for you.

Reaching the classroom, you spotted Theo immediately and went to snag the seat beside him, but Pansy beat you to it with a playful smirk.

"Come and sit by me, Princess." you glared at your two friends as you turned around to find Riddle with his arm stretched over the back of the spare seat of his desk. "I don't bite."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." you mumbled as you searched for Hermione, who had chosen to sit near the front of the room, the seat beside her already taken. Traitor. She only looked at you apologetically before turning around.

You slumped into the seat, pointedly ignoring him as you took out your things. You could hear Theo and Pansy laughing at your expense so you sent a small stinging jinx wandlessly their way, smirking when they yelped in surprise.

"Smart girl." Riddle mumbled to himself, probably not intending for you to hear, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

"So was Theo lying about your disastrous ability to desipher runes, or was that just a way to get me to agree for your...help?" you ask, still choosing to igore him.

"Oh I assure you I'm quite terrible, Princess. Awful. In fact I'm not sure how I got back into this class, if I'm being entirely honest." he said it with a shrug before he smirked at you again. "I'm sure you can help me. You are top of the class, after all."

"Actually Mione was top of the class at the end of last year. Why not ask her?" you ask, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. He had turned to look directly at you, but his hand was still on the back of your chair.

You try, and fail, to push it off, sneering at the muscular appendage in offence. Damn him and his strong, quidditch arms.

"Theodore doesn't trust Granger, he trusts you. Therefore, I'm putting my trust into your...abilities to help me out."

Lovely. His words carried a double meaning. You were really considering hexing Theo and Pansy again for putting you in this situation.

His huff of laughter along with the burning pinch at the base of your skull were the only indications that he'd heard your thoughts.

After Defence, wait for me so that we can discuss the nature of your lessons and my apparent tutlage.

You ignored him for the rest of the lesson, but wordlessly agreed, nonetheless.

~∞~

You were complaining to Hermione the whole walk to the Defence classroom, and while she was amused, there was underlying worry in her responses.

"So he wants you to tutor him?" she asks curiously.

"Not a clue why." you say flipantly. "If I was him I'd much rather you taught me."

"Well I am a muggleborn, for starters." she says self-depricatingly and continues speaking, not allowing you to rebute her statement. "And you're still at the top of the class. Christ, you can do most spells non-verbally and wandlessly, far better than I can. I think I'd rather you than me, too. No offence."

You only smiled sarcastically at her. "I don't think anyone would willingly tutor him. Perhaps I should bargain a favour with him instead."

You left out the part where he was already fulfilling a kind of favour, for Theodore and Pansy, no less.

"One class in and my shoulders already ache." you whine as you rolled your shoulder to ease the pain that your heavy bag was causing. Harry and Ron met you outside the classroom a moment later, staring, horrified, at Hermione's armful of heavy books.

"We've gotten so much homework for Runes already." she said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and we've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Now I see why we have so many frees this year." you grumble.

"Shame," Ron said with a yawn, before smirking at the two of you.

"Just you wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

The Defence classroom was gloomier than ever, but thankfully it was no longer sickeningly pink and filled to the brim with plates of cat photos. The dark curtains were drawn across the windows and the only light came from the numerous candles that dotted the room, insighting a headache when you tried to read the blackboard. Snape's personality appeared to shine all over the room, from the odd portraits to the weird contraptions that littered the space.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you and I require your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

His dark, beady eyes scanned the room.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced." he set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a low voice that you desperately wanted to drown out. But the burning sensation at the back of your skill prohibited you from doing just that.

No. Pay attention. Riddle was becoming a thorn in your side, and its only the first day.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster. Each time a neck is severed, it sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Someone read up on their Greek mythology this summer. You say to Theo, who smirks behind his hand.

"Your defences," Snape continued, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse-" he waved a hand towards a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony; "-feel the Dementor's Kiss-" a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed slumped against a wall; "-or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

You really did drown him out this time. Thinking about his wording. To your knowledge, only his followed gave him the name 'the Dark Lord', so why was Snape using that name? You filed away the information as he paced across the classroom.

"....you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, pointledly looking in your direction where your hands stayed glued to your sides, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well – Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she stated, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Snape dismissively. "But correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, "lack."

The Professor's beady eyes landed on you once more, a challenge present in them.

"Miss Meadow, come up to the front." everyone's eyes were on you as he beckoned you forward, so you obeyed. "I want you to demonstrate this skill. On me." He motioned for you to stand on one side of the room, while he stayed at the other.

You shook off your limps and, using your wand rather than just doing it wandlessly, you shot out a disarming spell, which Snape blocked.

"Good. Now try again." he said as he shot his own disarming spell at you, which you wordlessly blocked with a flick of your wand.

This back and forth continued for five or so more minutes before Snape managed to catch you off guard and disarm you with a minute flick of his wrist.

"Very good. Now following that example, you will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

People paired off, you choosing to partner with Mione who looked determined to perfect this new skill. Everyone who was part of the DA in the previous year were practically experts at casting spells, but none of them, bar you, could perform the Charms wordlessly. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud, including Ron, which only made you laugh as you watched as Harry blocked his every attack.

Of course, Hermione had gotten the hang of it within ten minutes of practice, as did Theo and Zabini and Riddle. Harry and Ron were still struggling, along with Pansy and Lorenzo.

To say you were bored was an understatement. Snape had already known that you were skilled with wordless and apparently wandless magic too, which meant that he could clearly see into your mind – yet another reason why Riddle needed to teach you control. The only other interesting thing to happen was Harry blatently sassing your Professor, which left you and Hermione gaping and Ron, Dean and Seamus grinning at him.

Once the lesson had ended, Snape in a more abysmal mood than usual after Harry made a fool out of him, you lingered in the corridor, waiting for Riddle to leave so that you could get the interaction over with.

"Hey Meadow! You coming?" Ron asked loudly from the end of the hallway. He looked at you with an odd expression on his face which morphed into unwilling understanding when you felt Theo's presence beside you.

"I'll be there in a bit. I'll meet you in the courtyard." you shout back as you turn towards Theo and his friends.

"Some lesson that was, right tesoro?" Theo asks you as he wraps a strong arm around your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the rest of his group, who were looking between you, Theo and Mattheo with matching expressions on their faces.

"What the hell is she doing here, Nott?" Malfoy asks, looking at you with distain. You glared back at him, about to respond when his familiar deep voice answers instead.

"She's here for me." Riddle says. "Go on ahead. I won't be a moment."

Its Zabini who steers Malfoy away from his glaring contest with you, and Theo who wordlessly wishes you luck with a pat to the top of your head.

"So you're going to teach me control?" you ask as you lean against the nearest wall. He rolls his eyes and wraps a giant hand around your wrist.

"Yes." he hissed. "But not here. How stupid are you? Talking about it out in the open, by a classroom, nonetheless."

Your eyes only widened in mild surprise as he began dragging you down the corridor in the direction that his friends went, but he turned into an empty broom cupboard instead.

"Salazar, if you wanted to get me alone like this there were far better ways of asking Riddle." you say sarcastically, but your eyes show a teasing challenge as you stare up at him.

"Was that an offer, Princess?" he asks with that wicked smirk of his.

"Read the room, Riddle. I'd rather sleep with a troll." you snark.

"Suit yourself." he chuckles before his face sets into that serious look he seems to have mastered in his years at Hogwarts. "The first step to learning full control is learning how to ground yourself."

You look at him expectantly which made him roll is eyes.

"You have to find a happy medium in your head that allows you to keep control of what you don't want people to see, and who you let into your head." he explains motioning to his own head as he speaks.

"So that horrible burning feeling in the back of my skull whenever you get in my head-" you begin.

"Is only there because it lets you know that someone unwanted is using Occlimency on you. The fact that you can't block me out is what we need to work on. Does the same happen with Theodore and Pansy when you communicate with them?"

"No. They're presence is wanted. Yours," you trail your eyes up and down what you can see of his tall frame in the dark, "is not."

"Well until you do accept me in your subconscious, it'll continue to hurt and it'll hurt more when you're trying to block it out." he says and to demonstrate he begins rifling through your thoughts and feelings with little to no effort, that burning sensation appearing like a pinch once again. You cradle you head in your hands, a cry escaping your lips.

Walking to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, anxiety knawing at your insides.

Harry's Malfoy-is-a-death-eater spiel.

Your mini-dual with Snape.

How you want Riddle to rip your clothes right off your body and have him take you-

That wasn't right. You managed to mentally push him right out of your mind with more effort than you reckon it would take for you to haul a quaffle into the goal. It made your head ache.

"What the fuck was that?!" you snap, hitting his arm.

"You're a fast learner. Well done. It takes most people multiple sessions to do what you just did." he looks...proud. It stirs something strange in your gut.

"What did I just do?" you asked, intrigued, scared, confused.

"You just succeeded in blocking me out of your head." he smirked lightly, almost showing a ghost of a smile.

We're going to have lots of fun, Princess.

He was still in your head. His deep voice filling every corner of your mind, but that burning sensation was no longer present. It no longer stung and he was no longer able to rifle through your thoughts. Only converse with you, like you could with Theo and Pansy.

"We'll do this twice a week, until you can block me out without thinking about it." he said as he walked towards the door, leaving you standing motionlessly in the dark.

~∞~

icl the whole plot of this is heavily inspired by my beloved xaden and violet's bond with all their mind talking and arguing🤭🤭 (minus the dragons, etc)

[eccentricallygothic]

Pairing: Eric Northman | Hunter's Daughter!You. 

Warning(s): Smut, m!Dom, f!sub, kissing, makeshift bondage, tongue play, feeding, minor blood play, Eric's fat cock, nipple play, unprotected p-in-v, probably fear kink, human x vampire, forbidden lovers trope, dirty talk, age gap (lmfao). MDNI.

Note: Idk if Eric's in anymore but my kid sister wants to watch True Blood so I showed her the trailer and here we are. Unedited because I've class in a few hours and I am exhausted~

It is dangerous, prohibited, condemned by nature herself. 

And yet, that has never been enough to stop you. 

As you stand in the chilly late evening air in the spot reserved for your meetings with your forbidden love, a shiver breaks out through your body but the reassurance that it would soon be compensated for by the electric touch of the main you await is enough to console you. 

You are looking in the opposite direction of that of your pursuer when he does arrive, his tall figure approaching you faster and quieter than you can process. 

Your surprised gasp doesn't make Eric falter as he zooms to one of his favorite spots to spend time with you in, your smaller body safely tucked in his muscular arms and pressed tightly against his chest. 

The moment your body touches the sturdy ground of the mountaintop on which the silver moonlight shines in the most fascinating way, Eric doesn't allow you a moment to stop and marvel at the scenery. Instead, his desperate hands and hungry lips are on you all at once. His inhuman speed only serves his depraved intentions. 

“Hello to you too—” your cheeky giggle is suppressed against his lips the moment you speak and his cold blue eyes flicker up to yours from the diversion of attention your sweet voice causes for him. 

Eric doesn't have to say it. You can hear it in his cross growls as he relieves you of your clothing by pushing your shirt and bra all the way up to your elbows until you're in a makeshift bondage and your damp pants are laying beside you. He is not happy with how long he has had to wait for you this time. 

You whimper out into his mouth in response, moaning at the feeling of his warm tongue dancing with yours as you lift your crotch to grind against his very stiff one. The waver in your breath is your silent apology as it is clear by now that Eric will not allow you any words tonight. He doesn't when he's not pleased with you, as apologies just sound like lousy excuses to him. And you are not one who dares to challenge him when he is already unhappy with you. Because you have made that mistake a handful of times, and each time, tears and snot were made your best companions. 

Eric's hungry kisses now travel down your chin and along your jaw as the hand that is not fondling your chest feels for your neck now, one of his knees having already expertly parted your legs for his body to slot between. Your throat goes dry from excitement as you look up at the stars, craning your head to the side to give him more access to the junction of your shoulder but arching your back from how his hot lips tickle your tender skin.

Eric growls again once he reaches his spot of choice and sticks his balmy tongue out to lick at the mark you hide under hair and turtlenecks. A cry escapes you when he reproaches you by choking your poor nipple out between his fingertips. When his cold blue eyes come up to glare at you once more, you pout and lean your weeping sex into his covered cock. 

You know why he is unhappy. It has been weeks since your last meeting thanks to your family of hunters that you have to keep as far away from your relationship as possible. One wrong move and everything you have built brick by brick in convincing your father that you had broken things off with the golden haired beast that loomed over you would come tumbling down. You furrow your eyebrows in an earnest manner, trying to get him to understand. It is not like you like being away from him. 

Eric finally relents, for now, when his thick cock twitches inside his pants and he leans down to lick his mark on you again, distastefully grunting at how it has healed from when he last had you. 

Your eyes flutter close from the feeling. Need sparks to life in your torso and snakes its way down your spine before spreading over your loins and dying into the mess you've made between your legs. Blood pumps through your ears in anticipation of what is going to come any second now. The faint clink of Eric's belt coming undone sounds somewhere in your lust stricken stupor and you bite your lip at the same time your ancient lover copies your action except into the delicate skin of your neck.

“Ah!” Is all you can let out as you feel his thick fangs slide into the patchiness of the ditched they created into your flesh a while back. The feeling of him tearing into you has you releasing more slick. You feel your cunt ache and your hole blinks from the way the suckling of his lips makes your head spin. 

Eric places his stiff tip against your opening with his free hand while still feeding on you, taking his sweet time and savoring your taste. You whine out again and your gaping pussy tries to retract defensively. Your cruel lover refuses to prepare you today, it seems. And while it doesn't really surprise you because he tends to do that as a way of exercising his ire on your tight little cunt on days like today, it hurts nevertheless. 

Besides, your pussy is way too small to take his cock as is. 

His groan into your skin makes your whole being reverberate as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Eric detaches his lips from your skin at last to let out a grunt when your stubborn opening keeps refusing him access, instead causing his tip to glide off over and over. 

You try your best to will your entrance to take him, but your tiny band is a brat, as Eric likes to call it. 

“I wonder what your proud father would say if he saw his prodigal daughter like this” Eric's broad shoulders shake from his bitter mirth as he enjoys the pained expression on your face when he moves back on his knees and forces you to slide down his hard shaft. “Mouth covered in her own blood and pussy clamped around the cock of his arch nemesis…” Your back arched as your petals hit the skin of his balls and his cock twitched deep inside your velvet cavern. “Mind too stupid for any dignified resolve” his long fingers gently stroked the strands covering your face away. “Do you want any such resolve, little one?”

A whimper escapes you when he snatches one of your hips in one hand and snakes his other arm around your back to lift you up and against him. Your pussy clenches when your eyes meet and you moan when he presses his blood covered lips to yours again, smearing the metallic liquid into your mouth with his tongue. It only makes you slot your trapped arms around his neck before you pull him closer. 

“N- No, Eric! O- Only—” the vehemence with which you shook your head was a humiliating one for a sober person. “Only you!” You screamed out as he lifted you off his cock, your pussy squelching soundly in the process, before slamming you down on his sack again.

[theminecraftbee]

so a thing this fandom does that remains FASCINATING to me, as a function of the fact a lot of this fandom is people's first fandom or only current fandom, is just... assume a lot of things it does is a scourge that this fandom has invented or doesn't exist outside of it? or like, is uniquely bad here? and i won't deny that sometimes mcyt fandom is a bit more intense by virtue of numbers, but like...

duo names: confusing fandom-injokes to describe duos and groups tend to be an anime fandom thing specifically for many historical reasons, but they're not uncommon. hey quick--if you haven't been in KHR fandom, can you guess what 1827 is? no? i'll give you a hint: that's actually a ship name. or, ygo fans, tell me the difference between puppyshipping, prideshipping, violetshipping, and rivalshipping. my hint is that they're all kaiba ships and two of them are actually the same ship. good luck!

reducing characters to a specific trait: have you read fic in another fandom before? i would recommend you go do so and come back to me. my example here is "sasuke likes tomatoes", for the record.

common au fanon that's confusing to outsiders: my deep cut here is "when i got into certain tv fandoms i was baffled by the existence of sentinel/guide fics", which is a slightly older tv fandom thing so many of you probably don't know what i'm on about. but trust me: in certain fandoms it's ubiquitous and unless you've watched a completely different tv show you're gonna have to entirely pick it up from reading fic. oh hey, hybrid aus and watcher!grian, nice to see your relative here,

fanon being treated as canon: did you know there's this whole bnha character, naomasa, who is treated as canonically having a lie detector quirk? did you know that, best i can tell, that's not in canon anywhere, it just got echoed through fanon enough that everyone treated it as canon? 'fanon trait becomes so ubiquitous everyone assumes it has to be there' is not a new thing. also, batfamily fans, i have been lead to understand the tim and coffee thing is also this.

characters being treated badly to make a different dynamic look better: the fact we have the term 'character bashing' tells you all you need to know, here. if anything my one complaint on this front isn't even that it's happening--it's that i wish bashing and/or "not [character] friendly" was tagged a little more frequently, haha.

characters being reduced to their family dynamics: tale as old as time. "even the family dynamic thing" yes even that. just because this fandom tended to be particularly ship-adverse in the past didn't mean it didn't do basically the same behaviors as any fandom with shipping did with those dynamics, just gen. and other gen fandoms also do that. yes, down to the "and shipping reduces them to a ship, unlike my gen dynamic, which is very in-character; why can't people just be friends?" thing. some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

characters being reduced to their ships: some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

The Discourse: yeah this is an "actively running show" fandom thing, but also a hiatus fandom thing. ask a homestuck about vriskourse sometime. as much as i hate to say it, it probably made doomsday discourse look cute.

and those are just like... some things i've seen people complain about on my dash recently. idk it just hit me there are probably fans in mcyt fandoms who are assuming that some things (like hybrid aus or duo names) are the kind of things that only happen here, so i thought i'd offer some examples of other places they happen! i also have even more examples if you'd like.

to be clear: this isn't shaming anyone for complaining about any of these things. lord knows i go complain to my friends about it all the time, just the other day i was complaining in the category of 'they keep bashing my guy'. it's more of just... a gentle reminder that maybe we're big, maybe we're loud, maybe we have problems... but these problems aren't always unique.

so uh. we're all suffering together i guess...?

[bestanimatedmovie]

Choose your favorite!

Vote in the other polls!

What fans say:

The Lorax:

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse:

It had a very big impact on meme culture. And a really catchy soundtrack. Plus it has the silly sexy green man. What more could you want from a film.*

The Once-ler and the let it die song. This movie is glorious.

It is legit the mother of all great animated movies nowadays. From Mitchells vs the machines to the new mutant mayhem movie! The plot is so good and you can really see character development from almost all of the characters, plus the designs are BANGER.

THE MUSIC?? TOP FUCKING TIER. THE CASUAL DIVERSITY? IT ALSO HAS LITERALLY THE BEST SHOT IN CINEMATIC HISTORY (Miles rising after taking his leap of faith)

BRO THE ANIMATION IS SO SICK. The amount of sheer effort put into this movie is insane. The character growth was so amazing to watch and such a great movie to analyze. Best scenes are obviously the leap of faith. Actually gorgeous. And also the scene where aunt May sees Peter b after her Peter died. Her “you look tired, Peter” is just so heartfelt

Where the hell do I even start. The visuals are incredible and the plot is engaging. Every scene is perfect.

This film has EVERYTHING. Humor, action, inspirational scenes, kickass music, absolutely killer animation, an art style that is an homage to comic books, loveable characters, a talking pig, DR OLIVIA OCTAVIUS, I could go on

This is the best superhero movie ever made, the leap of faith is one of the best movie scenes of ever

The animation style is better than all the others, and makes the movie funnier too! The representation is also good, and the romantic storyline isn't too prevalent in the movie. Probably the best animation Marvel has made. My favorite scene is when the villains show up to Aunt May's house -- its my favorite fight scene!

I’m sure this movie’s been submitted already because it’s arguably the greatest animated film of all time. I have a personal connection to it because I saw it in theaters on opening night with my late father, and we both loved it and I still do. The animation is revolutionary and it’s one of the only 3 movies that make me cry.

gsksvbsvsbsvs I love everything about it, I love the animations, the story, the soundtrack also the style of animation AAAAAA its so beautiful its art it belongs in a museum i get goosebumps everytime I rewatch it

It’s just so good. All the characters are amazing and I love Miles dad. It’s hilarious and sparked my love for spider-man. It’s such a sweet movie about finding yourslef and has such a powerful message. I totally recommend it so I’m not adding spoilers, but like. Ohhhh, it’s so good.

Interesting villains, well-developed character arcs, a fresh take on Spider-Man, unique use of animation, funny, good use of multiverse that adds to the nature of the story being told, complicated character dynamics

It's the best animated movie because A: it takes one of the most well known comic characters of all time, kills him off in the first few minutes, and then shows you every cooler version of him. B: Has a large amount of representation in its main cast, considering that they're all versions of Spiderman, and that requires a white guy by default. C: everything in it is so well done I can't pick a favorite scene, but the most iconic is the jump off the skyscraper window.

The animation is incredible, the movie has so much story and heart, and there’s a perfect balance between humor and seriousness. And the soundtrack slaps

This is probably the best animated film I've ever seen. The animation is definitely the highlight, the way they blend comic book art styles and 3D animation is an absolute joy to look at and is so overwhelmingly creative, every frame of this movie is gorgeous. The impact this had on the industry is undeniable, as we start to see more and more movies getting more creative with their animation styles. It's not just the animation though. All of the characters are entertaining, all of the jokes land and the story is really well done. It leaves me blown away every time I watch it.

This movie kind of changed the western animation industry from the ground up. Apart from being expertly written, funny, and heartfelt, it is also stellarly animated, with a unique visual style that takes direct inspiration from the comic books it adapts and mixes 2d- and 3d-animation in a way and to a degree that hadn't really been seen before in western mainstream. Its critical and monetary success paved the way for mainstream 3d animation to open up to new and excitingly stylised movies that were like a breath of fresh air between the generic Pixar-style animation that had been the largely unchanged norm in the industry since Toy Story circa twenty years earlier**. ITSV divides the screen like panels on a comic page, it uses dots and lines for shading and gradients, doesn't shy away from lowering framerates for stylisation, and makes liberal use of onomatopoeia, both to comedic and dramatic impact. Impact frames and SFX are often hand-drawn and stunningly colourful, and even the simple dialogue scenes astonish with an expressiveness and realism in their depiction of emotions that makes me rewatch a two-second scene of Miles laughing fifteen times in a row. My favourite scene has to be the What's Up Danger scene, the emotional climax of the movie. Set to an absolute banger of a song, it is the moment the entire film has been building up to. I won't spoil anything plot-wise in case you somehow haven't seen this movie, but both from an emotional and a visual standpoint it is Fucking Dope. Conclusion: Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse is my favourite movie of all time and I could talk about it for hours. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Thank you.

Have you SEEN the Whats Up Danger/rising and falling scene? it's a work of art that makes me fall in love with storytelling all over again whenever I see it. Also the impact that it's had on animated film is absolutely being felt at current, if incrementally. Incredible film.

It has an amazing art style based on comics and mixed up due to genre differences. It's really fun and the characters are great, even the side ones. The story line is great and I love Miles and his family.

*Mod note: errr, quite a lot more than memes and music actually

**Mod note: amen

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The Photobooth

Fandom: Marvel (Dad's Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: Bucky is in his late 40s, reader in her mid to late 20s. inspo came from these recent pics of seb.

The Book Store

Further into downtown, you stop at another store that sold different types of knick knacks and gifts.

Bucky follows you out of your car and towards the store, "Yelena's birthday is coming up so I figured I can check this place out for some stuff for her."

"I'm following you, sugar," Bucky says as he enters the store and is immediately met with a plethora of color and trinkets.

You zero in on a shelf that displays little crystal figurines. You smile at the ones shaped like animals, some shaped like Pokemon and Sanrio characters.

Yelena always had a thing for elephants so you immediately pick up an elephant carving made from amethyst.

"Those are cute," Bucky says as he looks over your shoulder.

You turn to him with a grin, "Right?! Lena, would love this," you hold up the elephant with a wide smile.

"She likes elephants?"

You nod, "She likes how smart and cute they are."

Bucky watches as you head to the pay counter and ask the cashier if you could place the crystal carving there for now. When the cashier nods, you thank them and head back to Bucky.

"I just wanted to make sure I don't accidentally drop it while I look around."

Bucky continues to follow you around the store until his eyes land on a photobooth in the corner. His eyes brighten, "Oh, hey! Check this out!" He takes your hand and leads you to the booth, "Haven't used one of these since high school."

You scrunch your face up as you think, "I don't think I've actually used one of these before."

Bucky looks at you in surprise, "Really?" You shrug and he opens the curtain to it, "Well let's do one then."

You snort, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, c'mon. Better late than never, right?" He takes your hand again and pulls you in. He sits on the bench and you do your best to squeeze in beside him.

"This isn't gonna work out, here," he has you stand and then he pulls you onto his leg, "Better?"

You gulp, "Y-Yeah."

You try not to pay attention to the hand that rests on your hip as he pays and picks out the amount of pictures and strips. He leans back and points at the screen, "Okay. It's gonna count down for us before every picture. There'll be four pictures all together so be ready."

"Right. Got it. What should we do first?"

"Uuuuhhh happy?"

You giggle and you both smile when the screen counts down to one. You two work quick, "Sad?"

The both of you do your best to look sad. You frown while Bucky straight up looks like he's wailing. When the camera snaps, you lose it. You find Bucky's face absolutely hilarious and he's watching you laugh at him. You're too caught up in the moment to realize that the countdown started and took your picture.

"Oh crap. Uuuuhhh, silly face?" he asks and you nod.

You blow out your cheeks and cross your eyes. He pulls out his ears and sticks his tongue out.

He pulls back the curtain again and has you step out first. You realize how warm you are now so you start to fan yourself. He walks out with a grin, "That was fun."

He leans against the booth while waiting for the pictures to print, "I can't believe you never used one of these before."

"Just never caught my interest, I guess. But I definitely see the appeal now. I'll have to come back with Yelena to use it."

Bucky cocks a brow, "Not your boyfriend?"

Your smile weakens at the mention of your boyfriend, "Oh, um, John doesn't like taking pictures together. He thinks they're dumb."

Bucky's brows raise, "Thinks they're dumb?"

You shrug, "He thinks taking pictures together and posting them is like showing off. So he said he doesn't need to show off our relationship because we both know we're in one. I don't really get it, but I got tired of arguing with him on wanting to have keepsakes for memories," you look down in shame. The only person who knows how John is like is Yelena. When around your dad, John puts up a front. Like he's the perfect guy to you. He's not bad, but sometimes he's not good either.

"And this is the same boyfriend who ditched you today?" Bucky asks with a look on his face you can't even decipher. Is he mad? Annoyed?

"He didn't necessarily ditch me, Bucky. He had a deadline to meet for his capstone project."

"Right and I'm sure he already knew of this deadline and proceeded to procrastinate anyway."

You cross your arms over your chest defensively, "What's your issue with him? You don't even know him, Bucky."

"You're right, I don't, but from just the little information you've given me today, I don't think he's the right guy for you."

"Don't think you have a say in the guys I get involved with, Bucky," you say with a scoff and turn around to walk away but he grabs you by the elbow, "Wait, wait."

You turn back to him and raise a brow, arms crossed over your chest. He sighs, "I'm sorry. I just know you deserve better."

"Thanks but I'll be the judge of that, Bucky. I'm an adult. I'm responsible for my own decisions."

"Yeah. I know, but still. You deserve to be with someone who isn't afraid to show you off, ya know? Makes time with you and does everything to make you happy."

You nod, "I know. Thanks, Bucky."

"Sure," he lets you go to continue to shop for Yelena.

[therentyoupay]

How would you write Elsa falling first? I absolutely adore your loser Jack pining after put together Elsa, but how would you reverse their roles?

i promise i promise i did not mean to write a one-shot for this. and i SWEAR it is ACTUALLY a one-shot. it is the OLD-SCHOOL definition of a one-shot, because i opened this ask and thought, aw, wouldn't it be cute if i just wrote a little tiny ficlet to illustrate an example of this scenario instead? and then out came 5,297 words. in one sitting. in ONE SHOT.

i would also like the record to show that i LOVED this challenge, i love trying out new scenarios or styles that subvert all the habits i've gotten myself into over the past decade or so!! thank you for this ask!! and, also, let the record show, that even as i wrote a full 5k+ of fic leading up to a "she falls first, he falls harder" scenario, i still couldn't quite hit the mark... in this case, i think it's open to interpretation as to whether she falls first, or they fall at the same time. 🤣 ENJOY. p.s. LOSER JACK?? LMAO WHAT IS THIS

“Watch your head—“

She ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the churning of what appeared to be a factory conveyor belt gone awry. A tiny creature smaller than even a Norwegian Mountain Troll cried out in dismay as a cascade of nutcrackers fell into a sorting bin meant for what appeared to be that latest handheld gaming device—the Swap, or something.

Elsa grinned at the chaos surrounding her—little elves scolding one another, scurrying about—and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to see the Pooka—Bunnymund—grinning in delight at her delight. 

(I told you, his eyes seemed to say, as he gestured for her to continue ahead of him through the vast workshop chamber toward the office tucked away in the back. You wouldn’t regret it, if you came with me.)

Without giving him the satisfaction—yet—Elsa merely took in all the productivity around them, and let her gaze sparkle with the Wonder she knew was in them; dryly, she marveled, “It’s July.”

“Christmas doesn’t take holidays, mate,” Bunny winked. “Especially not here.”

Elsa stuck her courage to the sticking place as they approached the office—the door was slightly ajar. No matter what happens, Elsa inhaled and exhaled; you can always go back to Ahtohallan, to Antarctica.

You don’t have to stay here—with them.

Strengthened by this truth, Elsa squared her shoulders and softened her face into something curious and approachable as Bunny opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“OI.” Bunny stepped through the office, holding the door wide, which allowed Elsa to wait at the threshold—suspended between two worlds, two moments, two paths… perhaps two different lives.

“WHAT—Bunny, how many times I say, KNOCK, this program, it is DELICATE—“

“I got a delivery,” Bunny interrupted, and his whole body flinched at the look she gave him, “Er. I mean. I got someone here who you might wanna meet.”

And if Elsa had known then what she knew now, she would have realized in that moment (when North laid eyes on her that July evening in the middle of his work on the newest rollout of the popular role-playing video game—the Sums, or something) that, truly, the future was always in motion, her path already treaded, and—despite all her beliefs, her past, her heartbroken memories—her heart was already preparing to have two homes.

//

Elsa had visited plenty of warm—tropical, arid, sweltering—and chaotic, sprawling places in her travels, but none quite compared to the utter bustle of the Workshop. 

Over the next three weeks of her stay, Elsa grew accustomed to the factory’s noises, to the bickering between the elves and their strange adoration for her, to the yeti’s curious questions about her years at the south pole. They asked relentless questions about the melting ice caps, the fierce predators, and the tiny human-made stations; she answered them as best she could, having wandered Antarctica for only half a decade before Bunnymund happened to find her at the tip of Cape Adare. When she tried to explain that she was much more familiar with the Arctic, they listened politely, but they were clearly much less interested in land so close to home. They also had the strangest custom of bringing her icicles when they returned from their perimeter patrols; she was growing quite a large collection of them in the guest room in the Main House. 

The others—called Guardians, she learned—flitted in and out of this headquarters at seemingly all times of day. 

Sandy was shocked and delighted to see her again; they’d run into each other just once during the late 1940s, and only when Elsa was passing through a city—Barcelona, if Memory served—to familiarize herself with the changing of the times as quickly as possible. 

Sandy made no delay in giving her a much more insightful tour of the Workshop than North’s exuberant one had been, which had focused rather on not-so-subtle hints at how wonderful a life it was to be a Guardian, and such wonderful news it was to hear that Elsa was intrigued by Bunnymund’s offer to meet them, and so wonderful that Elsa had been spending all these years doing all that she could to explore the wonders of the world. 

(North was lovely, and welcoming, and fierce—and so boisterous!

And not subtle at all.)

After a few days of visiting the Workshop, Elsa grew comfortable enough to truly relax as she roamed its halls, visited the various stages of production, and occasionally caught up with Bunny as he flitted in and out of the Shop (“Easter is on Holiday!” he’d said, with another wink). She dined with North and his team of merry workers, often with Bunny, who, she learned, was rather too fond of eggnog, and sometimes with Sandy as well. 

After only a few hours into Sandy’s first visit, Elsa allowed herself to laugh with her whole chest at the ridiculous antics, the absurdity of it all, the bickering among Sandy, and North, and Bunny—and allowed herself to be endeared by the clear respect they held for one another, by the lightness in the air, the distinct sensation of family. That night, Elsa didn’t immediately retreat to her room after dinner, as she normally would have.

The Memories were not so painful, here. 

//

And their stories! 

They regaled her each night over (and after) dessert—about this horrid creature named Pitch Black, about the Moon, about the Battle of Burgess—they all sounded like fairytales to Elsa, even if she, herself, had practically been living in one for nearly two hundred odd years. 

The others told her of two other coalition members who fought beside them—both of whom were exceptionally busy, and who would not be journeying to the North Pole again until it was time to celebrate the Equinox.

Elsa was curious about Toothiana—and anxious, about the Memories she protected—and especially curious about the Guardian named Jack… 

Frost. 

She did not shy away from asking more about him—Elsa had far too little time to worry about such silly fears like embarrassment; immortality was funny like that—and her curiosity grew with each tale she heard. The Guardians spoke of Jack with a mix of fondness and exasperation—his mischievous nature, his loyalty, how bloody annoying he is, I tell ya, that’s what I say.

Elsa could not help but laugh at Bunny’s pervasive frustration with his teammate; his respect for Jack was clear, even if his patience was not.

Still… she had been wandering the world for over 200 years, and in all that time, she had never encountered any others like her, and certainly not anyone especially like her. 

The thought of meeting someone who might understand,  who might have powers like hers,  stirred something deep within her— something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She caught Bunny staring at her in the midst of a reverie by the fire during an after-dinner coffee, so she crisply declared, “Don’t say it.”

“What’s that, Ice-pop? Sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over all of that Hope in your heart.”

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

//

Later that evening, as she stood by one of the desperately-tall windows in the corridor leading to her guest quarters—watching the snowflakes drift lazily from the sky—Elsa couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually meet him. 

The thought of Jack—a potential ally? a friend? a teammate?—occupied her mind more and more as the days passed, and with each story the Guardians told, Elsa found herself hoping that this Jack Frost—a teacher? a guide? a confidant?—would be looking forward to meeting her, too.

//

Sometimes, late at night, she would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who understood her powers as deeply as she did. She imagined his face, always in motion, always just out of reach, and felt a strange sense of—Hope? Elsa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Anticipation? Perhaps.

Fear?

In these quiet moments, she found her spirit reaching out, as if she could almost call to him—but of course, he was completely out of reach, never having met her before, and likely, perhaps, not even knowing that she existed until only recently... But her heart would quicken at the idea of meeting this person like her, of seeing his eyes—what color?—filled with the same understanding, the same longing for connection that she felt.

What would he think of her? Would he see the strength she had built over centuries? Or would he only see the loneliness that still clung to her, despite all her efforts to cast it aside?

The questions swirled in her mind, mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration that made her feel both alive and vulnerable.

She could almost hear the laughter they might share, the way their powers could dance together in the air, creating something beautiful, something new.

And in those moments, she couldn’t help but smile, imagining a world where she wasn’t alone, where someone else could stand beside her in the snow, not as an adversary— 

But as an equal.

//

“And did he wield ice magic as a human, as well?” Elsa pressed over after-dinner coffee in the drawing room, leaning forward in her chair near the fireplace. North’s giant hands were absurdly large compared to his delicate teacup. “Before he became a Guardian?”

“As a matter of fact—no. The power came later, AFTER Turning.”

Elsa considered his words carefully. Something about his expression seemed rather cagey; centuries of reading strangers’ faces had only honed her political prowess, which had been born out of survival as much as any sense of duty. 

“North, tell me: why do you want me to join the Guardians?” 

“I—ah! ELSA—

“Because ya’d be mighty good at it!” Bunny blurted, calling over from his newspaper reading on the other side of the drawing room, to North’s indignant sputtering, “if you wisened up and stopped hiding all Hope and Wonder!” And then, as an afterthought, “And it’ll keep Jack humble, I reckon!”

“ASTER!” North scolded fiercely, but he set the tiniest teacup down with the tiniest clink and placed the saucer on the coffee table with such deliberate care, even in his fit of anger, that Elsa couldn’t hold back a small, genuine smile. 

//

“Dont’cha worry, Ice-Pop,” Bunny told her later, as they stood in the wide, cold corridor leading into the main entry chamber of the Workshop, where Bunny preferred to open his portals. Elsa quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled. “We’re not here to actually convince ya. We just want you to see that there’s another option. This Choice… well. Guardians gotta make it for themselves.”

She still had too many questions. How is it that I had never crossed paths with any of you but Sandy, before? 

How is it that I have managed to avoid Pitch for all these years? 

Why me? What can I really offer—when you already have someone who can already do what I do?

“You still have time before you have to decide. And you need to meet the rest, anyway. Just think about it, is all,” he said, all his wisdom seeping into the very air around them. He cracked open a portal and, a moment later, he was gone. 

//

“Oh!” said an utterly beautiful creature, her wings fluttering with so much excitement and delight that she was practically vibrating. “You must be Elsa!”

Elsa and Toothiana took to one another with surprising ease; time had steadied Elsa’s heart, had taught her the patience and endurance and the strength of a glacier; time had energized Toothiana, who took charge of the world with her vast army and a wide smile. But it had been so long since Elsa had even felt anything remotely similar to the feel of holding onto her sister—and Toothiana understood, completely. 

Toothiana shared stories of her own—a whirlwind of adventures collecting memories and moments, each one a treasure she held dear.

(Toothiana's eyes softened as she took Elsa's hands in her own, her understanding gentle yet firm. "I know what it’s like to carry the weight of Memories, Elsa," Toothiana whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "But here, with us, you don’t have to carry them alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll help you find your way.”)

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her. 

To Believe in them.

//

When the Guardians gathered around the fire—taking time, they said, to ensure that past mistakes were never repeated, that they carved out time for themselves the way they never used to—the conversation inevitably turned to their adventures, to answering Elsa's questions. Somehow, Jack always seemed to be at the center of their tales.

She was rather alarmed to realize the extent to which she had begun to wait for these moments, eager to hear more about Jack, piecing together an image of him in her mind that was as elusive as snowflakes on the wind. Why on earth does not a single Guardian commission a portrait, for goodness’ sake? But Elsa dared not ask for a Memory; apparently, there were still some things left worth being too embarrassed to ask for, after all.

So she contented herself with the way Sandy would add details to the story that the others had forgotten, conjuring up glowing scenes of Jack’s playful antics in vague, golden sand—flurries of snowflakes, intricate frost patterns on windows, and the gleeful laughter of children echoing through the air. 

She would find all their efforts rather suspicious… if they weren’t all being so utterly obvious about their Hopes.

Thus, one evening, as they were all gathered around the fire, Elsa couldn’t help but ask, “How did Jack become a Guardian?”

Bunny’s keen eye sharpened upon her cheek; she withstood the scrutiny, allowing him no further entry to her mind, as he added, “Jack was chosen by the Moon, like the rest of us.” 

“But Jack…” Toothiana’s voice was soft and somber and unusually serious; the atmosphere in the room shifted, its axis tilting ever so slightly. “He had a harder time accepting it. At first! That is.”

“Took him a while to figure out, is all,” Bunny held his boomerang up to the light, checking the polish. “He came around, eventually.”

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

Sandy floated closer, his golden sand forming an image of a young boy standing alone in the snow, his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. The image flickered, and the boy’s expression shifted to one of determination and hope.

“Not easy for Jack, his Turning was,” North said, his voice softening. “Not easy for any of us… But Jack had no Memories of his past, no knowledge why he was Chosen. It wasn’t until centuries after his Turning that he found his center.”

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

“FUN!” North boomed, smiling, and sending teacups clattering everywhere. Elsa clutched her saucer with both hands. “But not just ANY fun—bringing joy and wonder to children, making them BELIEVE in magic and in themselves. THAT is Jack’s true power!”

Elsa considered this as Bunny complained about dropping his boomerang polish and spilling it all over the carpet. Toothiana was laughing at him and offering to help in equal turns, as Elsa’s mind turned over the implications of centers—and Jack’s in particular. She had spent so long searching for her own purpose, her own… center? Do I have one? As well? Is that why Bunny had found her, out alone at the edge of the iceberg, at the exact moment when she had let it all go, had accepted that she may never find her purpose, that perhaps she did not have one—was that the moment that they had been waiting for?

And now, here in this team, Elsa might soon meet someone who had also once struggled with the same questions, who had found his answers in the most unexpected ways… It makes me, dare I say it… Wonder... 

She glanced at the Guardians, each of them so sure of their place, their role in the world, with all their quirks and their trust and their happiness. They had found their centers, their reasons for being. And Jack—this mysterious figure who was off wreaking havoc in some apparently historic winter season in New England—had somehow found the same. She wanted to know more about this spirit who had lived in solitude for so long, who had found a family among these remarkable beings, and who wielded the same icy power she did, yet in a way so different from her own—or, at least, so they thought. Nobody could quite seem to explain to her the exact mechanics of it all.

The more she heard about him, the more she felt a growing need to meet him. She caught herself imagining what their first meeting might be like—whether he would be as mischievous as they said, or if they would take a liking to one another right away, bonded by their similar powers, their similar stories… Perhaps he might help her make sense of… all this? Maybe there was something in him that could help her understand herself better. Maybe he could be… another friend? An ally. A partner. Elsa did not care about the name; what mattered was only that they could learn from each other. 

But still. She could not quite deny that her excitement at the chance of meeting him was, perhaps, a bit more complicated than all that. 

“I still don't understand. You already have someone whose powers are like mine,” Elsa pointed out reasonably, just when the others had started to turn the conversation to simpler matters. “How could I possibly contribute?”

Bunny barked with laughter from the other side of the circle, over the recipe book he was now reading, preparing for their grand dinner to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox. Sandy giggled in golden, sparkling shimmers. North’s laughter was as reassuring as it was alarming.

“ELSIE, my dear,” North boomed as he strode closer to the wing-backed chairs that Toothiana and Elsa were hoarding by the fire, just under the wide window of the central tower, which overlooked the northern tundra. “It is not about powers alone! It is CENTERS.”

“And besides!” Bunny called out over his recipe book, adjusting his reading glasses over the bridge of his twitching nose. She could feel his cheekiness from the other side of the room, but Elsa was particularly amused by the way Toothiana’s whole body tensed up in preparation for Bunny’s antics.  “You’re the better deal on both fronts, anyway!” 

Toothiana scolded him for the next five minutes but hardly put any real fire into it, and North’s voice echoed throughout the study (“Now, now, Bunny—Jack has only been with us for two years now—and he has done SPLENDID job—“), and Sandy had already fallen asleep in his preferred winged-back chair by the fire, lulled into a nap by the comforting sound of his fellow Guardians arguing over something utterly ridiculous.

//

Late that night, as Toothiana hastily prepared for departure and her return to her endless work, she caught Elsa by surprise. 

“We’ll understand if you would rather return,” Toothiana was gracious, so considerate in her efforts to not step on painful Memories, to not push Elsa too hard or too fast, too soon. “We recognize that this choice, this Oath, is not for everyone. But we hope you’ll consider it.”

Elsa nodded, appreciating the understanding in Tooth's eyes, though she couldn’t quite find the words to express it. The kindness and patience offered—by all of them—made her feel both comforted and conflicted; this was a choice she had to make for herself, but knowing she wouldn’t be judged either way brought a small measure of peace. 

Toothiana let out a knowing smile that Elsa didn’t quite understand. 

//

Two days before the Autumnal Equinox, the North Pole was strangely quiet; all others were out and about and attending to their centers, preparing their final tasks before they would all meet for the celebration, here in North’s home. 

She thus found herself wandering the hallways alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, thinking of the word home, and how it had changed for her over the years—first, her kingdom; then, her sister; then, the secrets that lay in the depths of Ahtohallan, and then nowhere at all.

What was home?

She paused in front of a large, intricately carved door she hadn’t noticed before. There was something inviting about it, something that called to her curiosity. Without thinking, she reached out and pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

The room was a gallery of sorts, filled with shelves upon shelves of intricate snow globes, each one containing a different scene—some of them cheerful, others serene, and a few that looked like they were mid-snowstorm. Elsa moved closer, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. Each snow globe was a memory—not one of Toothiana’s collections of course, but rather, a moving picture—a small clip of some film, captured in glass and suspended in time.

She reached out to touch one that was particularly beautiful—a snow globe depicting a small village blanketed in fresh snow, children playing and laughing as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could almost hear their laughter.

“Beautiful, no?” a voice said softly from behind her.

Elsa turned to see North standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

“They’re not Memories,” Elsa whispered, more to herself than to him. “They’re… Reminders.”

“Yes. They help with the Wonder, of course.”

Elsa couldn’t move her gaze away from the glass again. “Whose are they?”

North stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with genuine warmth, with joy. “They belong to all of us. The children, the Guardians… and a few others.”

He gestured to a shelf on the far wall, where a single snow globe sat, slightly larger than the others. It depicted a lone figure standing in the middle of a frozen lake, surrounded by a dense forest. Snowflakes danced around him, but there was a sadness to the scene, a loneliness that tugged at Elsa’s heart. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the glass.

“That one,” North said softly, “also belongs to Jack.”

Elsa’s breath caught. She had heard so much about him, yet she still knew so little. The thought of him, alone in this beautiful but desolate scene, stirred something deep within her.

Are you someone out there  who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down  I'm not where I'm meant to be?

“Yes, he’s been through much,” North continued, his voice gentle, washing over Elsa’s rapidly-blinking thoughts, through the strange swell of sadness that swam through her chest. “But he IS strong, and has found his place among us. Still, there are parts of him that are… sometimes, difficult to reach. Things that… perhaps… someone may help… heal?”

Elsa side-eyed him, beneath her lashes. “You are growing less subtle each day, I fear.”

His boisterous laugh told her he wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Elsa, when few more centuries you have, you too shall learn when to drop SUBTLETY. No?”

Haven’t I already? But she humored him with a smile instead. 

“Whatever you decide—we will support you, your Majesty.”

Elsa’s smile slipped, without her meaning to. Throat thick, she whispered, “No one has called me by that title for a very long time.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as North stepped closer to her, looking down at her—the way her father used to. The way her father might have, had he lived long enough to see her step into her own power, at last.

“I do not call you Majesty because you were Queen, or Snow Queen; I say because I remind you that what you have, and what you are, at your center, is FULL of that which makes living so majestic. It is my sincere wish that—“ and Elsa inhaled at the strange expression that passed his face, the soft mix of hope and resignation all at once— “You will choose the Oath with your full heart.”

Elsa wanted to thank him, but she didn’t want to lie; before she could settle on the perfect breath of diplomacy, North patted her shoulder in reassurance, and left the gallery, leaving Elsa with all the Reminders that were not hers, but insisted she be strong, anyway. 

She gazed into the large snow globe, at the figure standing alone on the frozen lake in the deep forest, and Wondered, truly, for the first time, This was also my past… 

Will I also find my future here, too?

//

The Equinox arrived, at last. Elsa had fashioned herself a dress for the occasion, and the excitement buzzing through the Workshop was palpable—everywhere she turned, there were smiles and knowing glances exchanged between the elves and the yetis, as if they all shared a secret that she was just on the cusp of understanding, but not quite privy to.

Elsa did not startle at Bunny’s sudden entrance behind her, but it was a near thing. 

“Stop twitching,” Bunny muttered as he sidled up beside her, at the window, where she was watching the horizon and waiting for the other Guardians to arrive. When she glanced up at him, she found his nose twitching in nervous anticipation. “Don’t overthink it, Ice-pop. Jack’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Oh? No further jabs at your friendly foe?”

“Nah,” Bunny grinned. “Today, I’m on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

She considered pointing out that his nose was equally twitchy, but she let it slide. 

Elsa understood.

And that understanding grew as some of the Guardians started to all trickle in at once; Toothiana sent wide glances about and around the room upon her arrival, and later, as she fussed with the elves’ itineraries, kept catching Bunny’s eye when they thought Elsa was not looking; Sandy checked his watch repeatedly after greeting them all with warm, sandy hugs; perhaps he was conscientious of the time… and yet… North’s laughter was too loud to be completely genuine. Elsa was beginning to understand the true purpose of tonight, swiftly and deeply; this night was no mere dinner, and no simple introduction. Tonight was an audition. An interview.

A trial. 

At this point, Elsa didn’t even mind the inquisition; she just wanted it to start.

//

The storm outside had been raging for over an hour, and yet there was still no sign of Jack. The wind howled, whipping snow into frenzied swirls that danced and spun against the windows of North’s Workshop. The Guardians stood by the large bay window, watching the tempest with a mixture of awe and concern. Elsa had seen far fiercer storms before… but seeing this storm here, now…? 

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

“Where do you suppose he is?” Toothiana murmured, her wings fluttering nervously as she peered out at the swirling snow. “When I got off the globe with him a few hours ago, he’d been in a good mood! Do you think he got distracted along the way?”

Sandy nodded, his golden sand forming an image of a snowflake, delicate and intricate, before it dispersed into the air. North stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the storm.

“Such a nuisance,” Bunny agreed, his ears twitching as he squinted into the whiteout. “But he’ll wear himself out soon enough. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Perhaps we might,” North rumbled, his voice filled with a deep, resonant certainty. “Jack may wish to make GRAND entrance—”

Elsa stood slightly apart from the others while they discussed, her eyes fixed on the tempest outside. The storm’s power called to something deep within her, something she recognized and understood. She had created countless storms like this, back in her darker days, when her emotions had been a force she couldn’t control. Here, she’d wanted to be a good guest, so it had been a month since she’d truly put her powers to proper use, out in the relative safety of the deep Antarctic deserts. But this… 

There was a wildness to it, a reckless abandon. This storm wasn’t about emotion. It was—it’s— 

He’s playing!

Just as the words passed through her mind, a voice suddenly piped up behind them, casual and completely out of place in the loud, bustling, tense atmosphere. 

“What are y’all looking at?”

The Guardians turned as one, startled by the unexpected intrusion. There, leaning against a large shepherd’s crook, was someone who could be none other than Jack Frost—his expression one of casual amusement as he took in the scene before him. He had somehow appeared without a sound.

The room, which had been brimming with anticipation, fell into a moment of stunned silence, then burst back into noise and life in the very next breath.

Elsa blinked, her heart still racing from the intensity of the storm and the weight of her expectations. But now, seeing Jack standing there, looking so nonchalant and distant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel disappointed. He was lean, with his staff slung over his shoulder, and there was an air of mischief about him, tempered by something darker, something cautious.

North was the first to fully recover, letting out a booming laugh that overpowered the other surprised voices in the room. “Jack, you never fail to surprise us! We were just admiring your WORK outside, no?”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, that? Yeah, just setting the mood.”

Bunny rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace, Frostbite. You know that?”

Jack shrugged, his grin widening. “Just doing my job.”

Elsa felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the easy banter between Jack and the other Guardians. She realized, perhaps too late, that she had built up this moment in her mind, imagining a dramatic, powerful entrance that would define their first meeting. Instead, she was faced with the reality of Jack Frost: a mischievous, irreverent spirit who seemed to take very little seriously, including the storm he had unleashed.

It was at that moment—in her quiet evaluation, her unexplained disappointment, her curious, lingering hope—that Jack caught her gaze. 

Blue.

The playful expression slipped away, just for a flash; his blue eyes met hers, and she saw something there amidst the lingering laughter—something raw and guarded, something that told her that, like her, he was grappling with his own mixed expectations. 

For a fleeting moment, Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the unexpected warmth that spread through her, as if she’d been touched by a sudden gust of spring wind.

“Jack, Jack, my boy, come—meet Elsa! Our dear Elsa—this is Jack, our newest Guardian.”

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jack hesitated—and then he stepped forward, approaching them at the window; Elsa stood patiently at Bunny’s side, watching Jack’s tousled white hair catch the light of the whiteout outside, watching as his blue eyes deliberately scanned the decorations around the room. 

Jack Frost… ?

Elsa waited, patient as a glacier as Jack’s smirking gaze flickered over the gathered Guardians as he reached them, and he saluted North with a deliberately careless air. His smirking gaze lingered on each of them before finally landing on hers. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but deliberately casual. “New Guardian, right? They’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

There was a hint of something sharp in his voice, and Elsa felt a pang of anxiety, which she pushed down; Bunny was covering his muttering face with his hand, and Toothiana was rolling her eyes to the ceiling in dismay—or perhaps prayer. Elsa quickly assessed the crisp stare and the hard line of his jaw; she’d been hoping for warmth, for understanding, but what she found in Jack’s gaze was something closer to suspicion.

Keeping her gaze on his, trying to ease the tension she could feel coiling between them, she softly corrected, “I’m not a Guardian.”

At least, not yet… 

Or so I… 

Elsa felt her chin raise; old habits falling back into place; perfect and pretty and polite, all smooth ice underneath; an effective mask for a Queen.

“I’m here on an invitation,” she said softly, and knew that he would not see the ice daggers in her eyes; not yet, although she was certain he was looking for them. “I’m very grateful to North and all of you for hosting me in honor of this autumnal celebration.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That is suspicion there, isn’t it? And guardedness… He was trying hard to hide something behind a facade of coolness—some debonair indifference. Elsa recognized the act immediately but played along because there was something else there, too, something that made her heart ache with a familiar loneliness. I’m an ally, she tried to impress upon him through nothing more than the thought. Enough of this!

I could be a friend! 

But then, Toothiana swooped in, her wings fluttering with a cheerful energy that instantly distracted them—if not immediately lifting the mood.

“Well! Isn’t this just the perfect way to spend the Equinox?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, drawing their attention away from one another; Elsa was grateful for Toothiana’s quick thinking, her impressive tact. “Jack, I’m sure you’re energized and starving for a glass of eggnog after all that storm-making. Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Uh, did Bunny make it?” 

“What’s it to ya, you little twerp?” Bunny shot back, narrowing his eyes with mock suspicion.

Jack grinned, the tension easing slightly as he fell into what must have been familiar banter. “Just making sure it’s safe, is all. Wouldn’t want our guest of honor to get sick on her first night here.”

“Actually, she’s been here for over a month now—“

Elsa watched the exchange (Jack was rolling his eyes) with a mixture of amusement and relief and… unease. (Toothiana’s interruption had indeed worked wonders, shifting the focus away from the awkwardness of their initial encounter and giving everyone, including herself, a chance to breathe.)

(And yet… the warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill still clinging to her thoughts.)

As they all moved toward the dining room, Elsa fell in step beside Toothiana, grateful for the other Guardians’ subtle (for once!) alliance and support. She marveled at how, even two centuries since her last political summit, Elsa still remembered every step of walking into a political negotiation; Elsa knew how to navigate delicate situations, how to read the subtlest shifts in tone, how to win.

Elsa had always been a fine Reader of the Room; centuries of invisibility had only strengthened her skills. 

And so the Trial begins…

This first impression was a test—one she intended to pass.

//

And although Jack started to relax once they were all seated and well into the evening—his guarded expression giving way to something more genuine as he bantered with Bunny and teased North about his over-the-top decorations—the knots in Elsa’s stomach remained. 

How could she make him see that she wasn’t here to replace him—but to find her own place among them?

The Guardians fell into their usual rhythm as they ate and laughed together, the conversation flowing (mostly) easily between them. Elsa, too, had found her own rhythm with the Guardians during her month-long stay, understanding certain inside jokes and the fascinating nuances of their personalities. But even as she joined in their laughter, the tension between her and Jack was palpable, thicker than the winter storm raging outside.

She observed how Jack's eyes flicked between her and the other Guardians, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he noted instances of the easy familiarity she had developed with them over the previous weeks. He joked along with everyone else, but there was a sharpness to his tone, occasionally—and it seemed that all the other Guardians could clearly tell, even if they were choosing to ignore it with varying degrees of patience… and understanding. 

Elsa could feel him measuring every word she said, every laugh she shared with the others. It wasn’t just that she was new or unfamiliar—it was that she had quickly become a part of something that Jack had spent years, perhaps centuries, building with them.

All of the Guardians’ assurances and encouragement over the past month had not hinted at the true nature of their concern; Elsa realized quite quickly that this rift wasn’t something that could be resolved with pleasantries or polite conversation.   

Winning his trust wouldn’t come easily—it would demand more than just time; it would require something deeper.

//

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their quarters or gone out for their evenings of work, Elsa found herself wandering the halls of North’s Workshop, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions, as was her wont.

The evening had not exactly gone to plan, but she supposed it could have been worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack still viewed her as a threat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d need to discuss it with Toothiana tomorrow. Perhaps they might lend me a snow globe?

As she rounded a corner, headed toward the snow globe Reminder gallery, she nearly collided with Jack himself—who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was leaning casually against the wall, his staff resting on his shoulder, but there was a tension in his posture that belied his relaxed demeanor. 

He’d been waiting for her.

“Jack,” she said, startled but keeping her voice steady; once more, familiar, old-fashioned patterns of politeness resurfaced in her moment of uncertainty. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Could say the same about you. Can’t sleep?”

Elsa hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Just... thinking. It’s been a lot to take in.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “You know, everyone seems pretty excited about you joining us. North, Bunny, even Tooth—they all think you’d be a great addition.”

She could hear the ‘but’ hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy between them; the way addition sounded like replacement. 

Elsa squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. There was an intensity in his eyes, a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly attributed it to the cold. “Jack, I’m not here to replace you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear. For a moment, Jack’s expression flickered, something vulnerable and upset flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Who said anything about that?”

“No one—listen to me, I know you’re worried,” Elsa continued, refusing to let him deflect. “But you have no need to be. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here because…” Why am I here? “I was invited. I am simply getting to know you all better. I’ve been alone for some time.”

“Spare me the politicking,” Jack huffed, which, indeed, Elsa did take offense to. Especially since she genuinely had not been trying to be diplomatic; just careful.

Perhaps he didn’t believe her story… about being alone?

The idea was more painful than she expected.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly, holding Jack’s gaze.  “I’m not here to play games, Jack. I’m just looking for where I might belong—that is all.”

“Will you take the Oath, then? What’s your center?”

Elsa couldn’t explain it, but this struck her as an absurdly personal question. Still. She could recognize a caged animal when she saw one. So, Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question press down on her. The idea of the Oath, of finding her center, had been something she had pondered endlessly since she’d learned of its existence—perhaps since her arrival, if she was being honest. But to be confronted with it so directly by Jack, someone who still seemed to see her as a rival, made it all the more daunting.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been... trying to understand what it would mean for me to take the Oath, to become a Guardian.” She willed him to understand, at last. “It’s not something I want to rush into without being certain.”

Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her, his blue eyes sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer there—a recognition, perhaps, of the honesty in her words. “And your center?” he pressed. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

Elsa hesitated again, her thoughts swirling. A long time ago, she had known who she was, what she was meant to do. She’d thought so. 

But after everything she had been through, all the loss, the isolation, and the rediscovery, she wasn’t sure if her center was what it once had been.

“Perhaps I might have, once,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now... Regardless of whether or not I join you, I’d like to think that there is something at the core of why I am still here.”

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

Jack tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something told her that she finally got through to him, just a little. Elsa felt herself feeling sympathy for him; even after becoming a Guardian, he was still filled with such… 

Fear. 

Doubt. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. For a brief, startling moment, she wondered what it would be like to stand by his side, to take the Oath together—as allies, as... something more? 

She brushed the thought aside, but the idea lingered, persistent. 

Then, finally, he let out a small, almost reluctant sigh. “It’s not easy, you know. Being a Guardian. Finding your center. It’s... it’s not something you just, like, stumble upon.”

“I understand,” Elsa said, her tone sincere. “But if there’s a chance that this is where I’m meant to be—then I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not interested in taking that away from you. You—you haven’t even seen what I can do yet! We don’t even know how much overlap we’d find in our powers, anyway!”

“You impressed Bunny in Antartica,” he practically accused. “That’s enough to say something, isn’t it?”

Elsa was trying her very best to remain steady and calm. “And what about you? What did it take for you to find your center?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “So they didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

She gaped at him. Honestly! 

Elsa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met Jack's gaze. "Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not here to steal anything from you—certainly not your place among the Guardians. I haven’t even decided if—I don’t know if—“

“I already know you’re gonna join us,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then, with a passion she hadn’t expected, he replied, “Because there’s nothing better. There’s nothing like it. It’s everything.”

Elsa was stunned by the raw intensity of his words, the conviction in his voice. She could see it in his eyes—this was more than just a responsibility, more than just a role for him. It was his purpose, his identity—his life, or whatever this agelessness was. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

She felt her heart skip a beat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her—curiosity, admiration, and something else, something unfamiliar. Her pulse quickened. 

Jack seemed to realize the weight of his words, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wait. I... I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he said, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “I guess I’ve been... on edge, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Still shocked by how deeply his declaration affected her, how his passion stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, Elsa softened at his apology, nodding slightly. “I… understand. And I accept your apology. I appreciate… you saying that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come home and see someone new in the middle of it all.”

Elsa thought she heard him laugh under his breath, mouthing the word Home—

Jack nodded, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah... it is. Anyway.  I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Elsa watched him start to turn away, a sudden sense of urgency bubbling up inside her. “Jack, wait—”

He paused, glancing back at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They were so wide, when they weren’t glaring! 

“Shouldn’t we start over?” she asked, her voice gentler, almost tentative in her rush. She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Elsa. I happen to wield ice magic. E. Aster Bunnymund found me on an iceberg a few weeks ago as I was in the middle of creating a particularly notable blizzard, and he invited me to meet his friends, whom he loves and respects very much.”

Jack looked at her hand, then back at her face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawled over his face. 

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack floated closer, and Elsa held steady—stories or no stories, she had not been prepared to see him fly! “I’m Jack. I also happen to ‘wield’ ice and frost magic. Bunny did not find me on an iceberg, but I’m pretty sure he’d love to stick me in one. Nice to meet you, Elsa, who promises not to steal my spot on the A-team. Welcome to the madness,” and he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake. 

The moment their hands touched, a strange, electric current seemed to pass between them, and Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat.

Oh—

He’s—he’s rather handsome, she realized with a start.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something she could not, would not name. 

Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rougher than before. “Yeah... maybe we should—”

They let go of each other’s hands, but the sensation of his touch lingered, warm and unsettling. Elsa felt a flush creep up her cheeks, unsure of what to make of the emotions swirling inside her.

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Elsa standing alone in the soft glow of the snow globe gallery. She watched him go, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in her chest. The conversation had been difficult, but it had also been a step forward—a tentative, fragile step toward something more. Right?

As she turned back to her quarters, Elsa found herself tracing the line of his smirk in her mind, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyes—after weeks of wondering about what he might look like, might be like, she finally had the vision, the Memory of his face.

She rushed with the ornate door handle of her guest room, eager to be inside her room, alone, in the peace and quiet, and finally process the events of the evening, to reflect on all that she'd learned, she'd accomplished, she'd proved.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of so many careful decisions in so short a time, Elsa closed the door behind her with a deep sigh. Exhausted, yes, but also satisfied. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the back of the door and allowed herself a small, tentatively victorious grin, content in the knowledge that when she drifted off to sleep that night, the echoes of their meeting, their tentative truce would fill her mind; this moment gave her, indeed, a sense of Hope that she hadn’t felt in years...

But, in her mind, the Memory that lingered most vividly, as she tossed and turned—was his face. 

//

ao3 ✨

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

TWO FOUR

THREE

You're sitting on the floor of your living room, waiting for Barnes to finish scanning your apartment for any signs that someone might be watching you. The most ironic part of this is that he's doing it just minutes after discreetly placing a camera above your door. The message this sends to you is that only he can watch your every move.

"What can you tell me about your life?" you ask while serving a glass of wine to each of you. You're certainly nervous about drinking wine near the expensive rug you received as a gift from a bakery customer, but it seems worth the risk when you think that drinking wine while sitting on the floor seems romantic.

"Well… non-confidential details. For example, my middle name, which is Buchanan, by the way. I was born on March 10th, a beautiful spring day. My mother used to say I was the most patient baby she ever knew. On the other hand, during my teenage years, I became a troublemaker. And I only started to behave better when I met my best friend. Steve was definitely the best person in the universe. Always thoughtful, trying to be cheerful even when there was no reason to be. The rare times he lost his temper, I knew the other person was in the wrong." Barnes sits down next to you. He smiles sweetly, as if he's fondly remembering the past. Then he takes a sip of the wine and looks at you, as if he's expecting something. You don't realize that you've been staring at him or making the atmosphere a bit awkward until he clears his throat, as if prompting you to say something.

"Your best friend must have had to put up with a lot to keep you in line… considering you're still getting into trouble even today. By the way, do you guys still keep in touch?" you ask, as if returning to reality after losing your train of thought while staring at Barnes. But how can you avoid getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen?

"He wouldn't be proud of what I've become. But we lost contact after, let's say, we went our separate ways. In my mind, he's living a peaceful life, maybe with a house near some lake where he can fish. Maybe he's married, with at least one dog. But part of my job was saying goodbye to what was valuable to me before, well... before I accepted the job. A sacrifice I was willing to make." Barnes says, this time between sips of wine, seeming to get emotional. It's probably the wine taking effect, or maybe it's the longing for those he had to leave behind.

"And do you regret it? Giving up being with those you loved most for a job that obviously puts your life at risk? I don't mean to criticize you, but it's not too late to have regrets. We could have died when that guy attacked the bakery." You end up judging Barnes' life a bit, without intending to, but you know you've crossed a line when he looks at you with a certain anger, saying nothing.

"I didn't realize I was here to be judged. What else do you want to criticize about my life? The first time I fell in love with someone? Or maybe something more spicy, like like the time I fucked my partner while we were on a plane? Do you want to know if I managed to make her cum or would you like to criticize me because sex in a public place is wrong?" He takes another sip of wine, emptying his glass. You feel a mix of emotions as you listen to him speak. He wanted to humiliate you, that's obvious. So you don't think twice before throw the rest of the wine in your glass in his face.

"I would have apologized for intruding on your life in an untimely manner. But you can't talk to me like that. Now, I'd like you to get out of my apartment." You say angrily, getting up off the floor and hoping your expensive carpet stayed intact after you throw your wine at Barnes. You assume he can leave on his own, so you head to your bathroom to wash your hand. It's stained with wine, so you clean it off. Your thoughts are in turmoil, wondering how something that was supposed to be romantic lost its meaning. Maybe Barnes was better in theory than in practice; maybe your hypothetical Barnes was just an illusion. You only refocus when you catch a glimpse of Barnes standing near the bathroom door out of the corner of your eye.

"I overreacted. You didn't mean to be disrespectful, and I was out of line. It wasn’t my finest moment." Barnes says as he approaches you, and you watch him through the reflection in the mirror. He quickly moves to stand behind you, not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your back. You get goosebumps, unsure if it’s because of his proximity or the huskiness in his voice as he speaks.

"I should have guessed it would be like this. You clearly have no intention of letting me get close to you. And you know what? Right now, it seems to me that you're doing just fine on your own." you say cynically, which seems like the right thing to do at the moment. Barnes gives a crooked smile and then moves closer. You turn to face him, as if you don’t want to make this moment more dramatic than it needs to be.

"Want to know something about me? I push away most of the good people I know because, most of the time, I have no idea if I deserve to have them around. But somehow, I don't push you away as easily. I eat your bread every day even though I don't like bread that much, just because I noticed you like to test new recipes when I stop by your bakery. Your coffee isn’t your strong suit, but I drink it almost religiously. Not everything I know about you comes from the fact that I put you at risk. I just took an interest in the lovely baker who smiles at me every morning as if I were the most important person in the world." Barnes says, looking into your eyes, and you’re surprised. All this time, you thought you were the only one noticing him. But he was noticing you too.

You have no immediate reaction, processing what he just said. Then, a surge of confidence takes over you; you place your hand gently on Barnes' face and caress him. But something awakens in Barnes. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, and in moments, he brings his lips to yours. The initial contact is delicate as he explores every part of your mouth. It takes you a moment to believe that you're kissing James Barnes, but once you realize it, you pull his neck closer, deepening the kiss. It's as if your mouth is waging a war with his, as you both savor the taste of each other. You let out a soft moan as he presses you against the sink, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. He runs his hands down your back until he reaches your ass and holds it tightly. Urging you to climb onto your sink, you feel his hands release you onto the sink and then touch your thighs and leg. You are however interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Apparently she was worried about the lack of news. He takes a breath while you watch him text Natasha, probably reassuring her. Then he looks at you, but this time with a hint of regret. It’s obvious it was too good to be true.

"Let me guess? You need to leave, and it’s better if we don’t talk about what just happened because you shouldn’t have done that?" you say as if you already know what he’s going to say, which you probably do, because he doesn’t make any move to deny it.

"It seems that, in the end, you know more about me than you realize," Barnes says awkwardly before quickly leaving your apartment, leaving only a lingering tension in the air. Soon after, you decide to take a shower and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and thinking about Barnes won’t do any good right now. The next day, you head to work earlier than usual, wanting to make some muffins and éclairs to sell at the bakery. Your first customers compliment your coffee and muffins, and you can’t help but wonder if your coffee is as bad as Barnes made it seem.

"What would you recommend to a new customer?" A man with a kind look, blue eyes, and blonde hair approaches your counter while you’re pulling a batch of fresh bread from the oven. He is muscular, well-built, and has a wonderful scent.

"I’d recommend almost everything here except the coffee; I’ve heard it’s not that great. And welcome to Y/L/N Bakery. My name is Y/N; I’m the owner and also the baker. If you want my honest recommendation, this new bread recipe turned out great, and I’ve made some éclairs if you’re interested in sweetening your day." you say subtly as you watch the man place his backpack on the floor of the bakery. It looks like he’s just arrived from a trip.

"My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. I heard that an old friend of mine used to frequent your bakery, and I came here hoping to find out where he might be. Have you by any chance seen Bucky?" Steve asks gently as he approaches the counter. You look at him thoughtfully.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" you ask, not quite understanding who he’s talking about. You’ve had many customers, but none named Bucky. Steve then pulls a photo of his friend from his pocket. Immediately, you recognize him. It’s Barnes, in military attire, in a photo that looks like it was taken a few years ago. And then you realize that Steve must be the best friend Barnes was talking about last night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[intheupside]

Sidney Crosby: Shrinking (Apple TV+), Prison Break (Hulu)

Alex Nedeljkovic: The Art of Clear Thinking by Hasard Lee; Same as Ever by Morgan Housel (he’s listening to it as an audiobook and reading a physical copy at the same time); Born a Crime by Trevor Noah; The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo; American Sniper by Chris Kyle with Scott McEwen and Jim DeFelice; Red Notice by Bill Browder

Lars Eller: Factfulness by Hans Rosling, Billions (Amazon Prime Video, Paramount+)

Noel Acciari: Reacher (Amazon Prime Video), Mayor of Kingstown and Tulsa King (Paramount+), and “I’m watching Boardwalk Empire (HBO Max) with Steve Buscemi. That one, I’ve seen already twice through. I pick long series that I haven’t seen in a couple years, like last year I did a show called Power (Hulu). Then the year before, I rewatched Game of Thrones (HBO Max). All those long ones.”

Ryan Graves: American Kingpin by Nick Bilton - “it’s unbelievable”; Born to Run by Christopher McDougall; From the Ashes by Jesse Thistle; How I Built This podcast; and the Doctor’s Farmacy podcast.

Rickard Rakell: Mario Kart on Nintendo Switch - “I’m always Waluigi. Because it’s the best character… with the kart and the wheels, he’s the fastest one.”

Drew O’Connor: Entourage (HBO Max)

P.O Joseph: “Watch the Marvel movies, all of them. There’s like, 26. That’ll keep you busy during the week. You watch two a day, you’re not even going to get half of it done. I finished all of them. I did them in (chronological order versus order of release), so Captain Marvel is first, then Captain America.”

Marcus Pettersson: When We Were Kings podcast; and “I go through a lot of shows. I feel like there's a lot of different ones that catch my eye, but I like more sci-fi or fantasy. Like the new Lord of the Rings show, I watched… the new Game of Thrones, I've watched… and the old Game of Thrones, all of those. I watched a show early in the summer called Silo on Apple TV+. It's a really good one.”

pens recs for the bye week

[lossie92]

I've been playing around with different ideas recently while trying to get back to writing.

One of the fics that resulted from it is inspired by a particular scene in Bridgerton Season 3. IYKYK 😉 The idea is a bit silly, but I'm having fun writing this story. Also just like the scene in the TV show, this story is quite sweet and romantic, which is always sth I enjoy. Romance ftw!

The below snippet comes from that as of yet untitled fic. Hope you enjoy! 😊

-

Warnings: a/b/o au

-

He swallowed and finally looked at Madara. The alpha's brows were furrowed and, if Tobirama didn't know any better, he would have said the man looked… worried.

“Uchiha-sama,” he managed to say, his voice sounding off to his own ears.

“Yes?” Madara asked as he stepped closer. “What is it, Tobirama-san?”

Was it normal, Tobirama wondered, for one's heart to hurt so much when the object of their affection was so close and yet so completely out of reach?

He was lucky to call Madara a friend, he knew that. It was good enough, especially now that whatever was left of Tobirama's reputation was in shambles. No one wanted to be seen around a fallen omega, but Madara had come to offer him comfort and friendship regardless. It was greedy to want more, but Tobirama couldn't help it.

“Would you… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” was Madara's immediate response. He stepped a bit closer still and gently took one of Tobirama's hands in his own. “Anything, Tobirama-san.”

Tobirama hesitated. What he wanted to ask for was selfish and frivolous, and, most of all, incredibly stupid.

Would Madara take offence if he made his request? Would he laugh and make fun of Tobirama for it? Would he leave and never come back?

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, steading breath.

“Can you kiss me?” He asked. “Please?”

The silence stretches between them for what felt like eternity. When Tobirama gathered the remnants of his courage to look at the alpha, he found Madara looking at him with wide eyes, his mouth ajar as if he was going to say something, but forgot what it was he wanted to say.

“Y-you don't have to,” he quickly assured. “I just… I have never been kissed. And I don't believe there's much possibility of that happening now, after everything, but I d-don’t, don't wish to die without ever being kissed and—”

“You're not going to die!” Madara exclaimed suddenly, sounding alarmed.

“But I could,” Tobirama said, “At any moment. During any mission. I could die and I— I know I'm selfish and that it's unfair to ask this of you, Uchiha-sama, but I…” He blinked back tears, trying his best not to burst out crying. He would have plenty of time to do that later. “I-I just want to know what it's like. To be… desired. Even if it's only play pretend at best.”

Madara was quiet for the longest time. He didn't step back though or let go of Tobirama's hand, which at the very least had to mean he wasn't completely disgusted.

“Alright,” he finally said as he took another step forward and then another until the two of them were sharing air. “As you wish, Tobirama-san.”

Wide-eyed in surprise, Tobirama watched the alpha lean in, their breaths mingling because of how close they were. Madara's other hand cradled Tobirama's cheek while he placed their joined hands against his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. Tobirama couldn't help but glance down and he marvelled for a moment at how strange their hands looked together – his own pale and slender, and Madara's tan and broad with thick, calloused fingers. For some reason seeing them intertwined made his own heart beat much faster, to the point he felt breathless with it.

It was hard to tell whether it was their proximity or the intimate touch that was making him so shaky. The way Madara's spicy, warm scent wrapped around him most likely had a lot to do with it as well.

“May I?” Madara whispered, his breath ghosting over Tobirama's lips.

All Tobirama could do was jerk his head in an approximation of a nod.

A soft breathy sigh escaped his lips when Madara leaned in the rest of the way, kissing him soundly, but gently. They broke apart for a second or two, but before Tobirama could even think about stepping away, Madara pulled him close once more.

[hadesoftheladies]

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 2 / HISTORICAL FICTION/NON-FICTION)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes of Media in the List:

-Workplace/general sexist discrimination

-Husband being pieces of shit and whiners

-Strong emphasis on sisterhood

-Romance plays a large part (both hetero and homo)

-Female genius and triumph

-Scheming mothers (always scheming)

-Grief, loss, and growth

-Motherhood is difficult but we pull through TM

HAVEN'T WATCHED:

Mozart's Sister

Lessons in Chemistry

The Conductor

Lizzie

Radioactive

Cable Girls

The Great

The Queen's Gambit

Britannia

Harriet

Mary Queen of Scots

ONES I LOVEDDDD:

A League of Their Own (9/10) (a favorite!)

Hidden Figures (8/10)

The Woman King (8/10) (a favorite!)

Anne With An E (9/10) (a favorite!)

Dickinson (8.5/10)

The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel (9/10) (a favorite!)

Gentleman Jack (8/10)

The Gilded Age (7.5/10)

HONORABLE (NON-LISTED MENTIONS)

The English (an english woman teams up with a native american cowboy to take revenge on the men who hurt them)

The World to Come (two women isolated by the wilderness and their husbands fall in love)

The Pursuit of Love

Colette

PERSONAL NOTES:

The Buccaneers is pretty feminist and wholesome, although oftentimes childish and full of Netflix cliches (even though it's an Apple TV original). It tries very hard to be Dickinson and Little Women but is a far cry away from Dickinson's edge and fierceness and Little Women's maturity and realism. It's more interested in appealing to Bridgerton audiences and its worse for it. But it's still full of the nice stuff, like strong female friendships and sisterhoods. Ooh, and lesbians! It's adamantly female-centric.

As for Little Women, I prefer the 90s version with Winona Ryder, but Greta did more justice to the source material than Louisa May Alcott herself in the new version.

The Book Thief and The World to Come are also tragedies, so you know. Ammonite, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Summerland and The Favourite are lesbians and bisexuals in their full glory, although all of them have vastly different tones (The Favourite is a dark comedy, I believe).

Speaking of The Favourite, Mary & George is like that but it's men vying for the affections of the king. Don't get it twisted though, Mary, George's mom, is the protagonist and primary mover of the show. It starts and ends with her. Also, more lesbianism! (I don't get tired of pointing that out.)

Belle is one of the few autobiographical historical fictions of a black woman. My dad and I love it. It, however, does not surpass The Woman King. The Woman King is like . . . one of the best historical movies on African women I've ever watched! Or just in general! It gives so much agency to African people in the colonial age and tells the story with nuance and perspective--it is a decolonized view on the slave trade that places West African people at the center. It's pretty intense and gory, though. Like it's dark, but like the performances are insanely good, and so is the story. Real life Wakanda and all that!

[dejwritesarchived]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ jersey chaser⠀ 〳 ⠀ o.aiku ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) she's been a jersey chaser until she met him.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, jersey chaser!reader, slight bratty!reader, mentions of reader being an influencer, reader in her lori harvey phase iykyk, mentions of reader being a daughter of a famous soccer player, mentions of slutshaming, mentions of pubes, mentions of oliver being uncut, dom!oliver, oral (m.receiving), he humbles reader immediately, slight sports player crossover and up to reader's interpretation on who the volleyball player is lol, sleazeball oliver, dirty talk, degradation kink, degrading pet names (slut), slight praise kink, doggystyle position, possessive!oliver, adding breeding kink in here for @lawscorazon, does he make reader wear his jersey while they're doing the nasty....yes, could this be turned into a mini series..maybe, word count: 3.8k

YOU WERE ONE OF THE BIGGEST INFLUENCERS IN THE WORLD. With a growing following of over half a million and thousands of likes on every social media post you post. You were the daughter of a legendary soccer player (now coach). You've accomplished everything you wanted, thanks to your father's funds. You've got your makeup business that's been booming since you were a teenager. Now that you were young and living your life, you couldn't help but dip your toes in the dating pool of sports players. Collecting jersey numbers like they were the bright infinity stones Thanos collected in the Marvel movies.

You were young, so why settle down so soon. Why was it such an issue that you kept your options open? You couldn't help that you gravitated towards the sports players. From the basketball players in the NBA to one of MSBY Black Jackals players. You've sat courtside during so many games that you have lost count. However, now that you've taken a break from the dating pool and decided to be single for a couple of months—you are interested in getting a taste of your next prey.

And it just had to be him. Oliver Aiku.

You thought you could use the same charm as him during your father's charity ball that brought many soccer players (both old and new) together to auction off legendary and expensive things to help fund little league soccer teams worldwide. You bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously. You tried to impress him by being the highest bidder on an item you could care less for. The usual charms that would have had any other person eating from the palm of your hand were a complete fail.

Or so you thought.

You remembered the goosebumps that decorated your skin as you stood outside the luxury hotel where the charity event was being held. Mumbling to yourself how you were ready to go home—mop about being curved to your best friend and then do some retail therapy. That was until you heard his voice behind you.

"Leaving your own father's event so soon?" His head tilts slightly while he's shoving his hands in the pockets of his nicely tailored suit.

Even you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in the attire he had to wear tonight. You rubbed your arms, hoping it would help warm you up as you waited for your driver to pull around with the car.

"I've done my duties as his daughter. I showed up." Your shoulders shrug before you go back to doing what you were doing.

It wasn't anything you could say to him after you made a fool of yourself by attempting to flirt with him just to be met with a very cold, harsh steel door. You could feel his presence next to you as if he wasn't going to leave until you eventually got in the car.

"I've heard about you." Oliver's voice trails off, alluding to the things you already knew about yourself.

You already had to read about it in gossip magazines, so hearing it from a guy you had your eyes set on—wasn't new. Your eyes glance over at him, and you don't even notice how intensely he stares at you. You watched as he let his tongue glide across his lips—drinking in your looks for the evening. Instantly, the once coldness you felt due to the crisp nightly air went away from your body, radiating heat just by the way Oliver looked at you. The ball was no longer yours to guide like usual, he had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"Hm, nothing new. I'm a slut, and my father needs better control over me. I've heard about me too." You sighed while opening your clutch.

You were searching for nothing. Just to avoid having to meet those green and purple eyes of his. Those heterochromia eyes could put any woman in a trance. Similar to a snake charmer trying to guide a rattlesnake.

"Yeah, something along those lines and that you are a jersey chaser." His chuckle was low enough for you to hear him. "That's fuckin' hilarious."

"Hahaha, laugh it up." Sarcasm oozes from your tongue, and you realize that he is getting a rise out of his.

"So what do you do? Steal their jerseys after breaking their precious little heart so severely that they can't focus on their game?"

You finally turned to look at him. Swapping the weight of your body from one red bottom to the other. Your arms crossed over your chest before rolling your eyes, "If you didn't curve me, you would have found out, Mr. Aiku." You had seen your personal driver pull up in front of the hotel.

Your driver, whose known you since you were little, would rush to open your car door, but he immediately stopped his actions due to Oliver stopping you from opening the door yourself. The door to the black Benz truck slapped shut, and you couldn't help but eye Oliver questioningly. You hated the fact that the ball was no longer yours—he had full control, and you couldn't entirely read him to gain the ball back.

He inches closer, abruptly closing the gap between you two. He's holding a hotel room card between his index and middle finger—waving it in your face as if it's your father's credit card. "Then show me."

Your eyebrow raises at him, wondering when he changed his mind. However, you had no time to wonder when this was the perfect opportunity to regain control of the ball. Beat him at his own game. You told your driver that he could go home for the evening, considering that you planned to spend the whole night with Oliver. Your plush lip gloss-covered lips curve into a harmless smile before you turn towards the hotel entrance, dragging Oliver swiftly by the black tie he had around his neck.

You didn't care about the people in the lobby seeing you with him. That's the thing, you never cared about being caught out with another person because it wasn't their business. Your manicured finger jabbed at the elevator button, and as soon as the doors slid open, you waltzed inside with your head held up. As soon as the elevator closed with the two of you inside, it was as if a switch had gone off between you. You instantly let your lips crush upon each other, grasping each other bodies. Your leg hooked up his waist as your back was leaned against the elevator wall. Before you could mumble about people walking on the elevator as it was going up, your lips gasped apart, feeling his hands reach between your thighs.

Oliver nibbled on your lip, teasing, letting his tongue glide across it afterward before he pulled away as soon as the elevator opened on the floor you two were going to. You watched completely breathless as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off the elevator as if the two of you weren't so close to tearing each other clothes off right in the elevator. "Cocky bastard." You mumbled to yourself.

You followed behind eagerly, though just as he reached his hotel room. He unlocked the door, but before he opened it, he leaned against it and looked at you. "You know what you're getting yourself into, right?"

Your eyes roll at his words, "Of course, I'm not some timid little girl." You push your way into the hotel room.

You didn't waste time stripping from the elegant velvet gown you wore tonight. The hotel air sent a chill down your spine as you plopped down on the king-size bed. The warmth of the sheets hitting your bare skin caused you to close your eyes. You were completely basking in the scent of the hotel room. It smelled like Oliver if you focused hard enough. Just as you were about to complain about what was taking him so long, you could feel something getting thrown at you.

"Put this on." He mumbles as he walks around the hotel room, removing the attire he wore tonight.

You sat up, extending the clothing he had thrown at you. It was his jersey. "Why'd you want me to wear this?" You asked. You tugged the jersey over your head to put it on.

Oliver glances up from removing cufflinks that had his initials engraved in them. He looks you up and down from head to toe. From how your hair seemed to be in the perfect shape to how he could even get a peak of your ass with each movement you made with his jersey on. He understood why many sports players gravitated towards wanting to even get a date with you. You were stunning—absolutely breathtaking. However, Oliver wasn't like the others.

"You look good in it, don't you think? Better than wearing that volleyball play jersey." Oliver smirks as he closes the gap between you two.

Some buttons were undone on the crisp white button-down shirt he wore. His black slacks hung loosely around his waist, and his hair was now disheveled from his slender fingers combing through it.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, noticing that he was moving closer toward you. The ball still wasn't in your grasp. As soon as you willingly slide his jersey on your body to be entrapped by the scent of him from the piece of clothing, you no longer have the upper hand.

"Don't you think you'll be even prettier with my cock in your mouth?"

Your brain never got so stuck on a question. Primarily when you were known to dodge red-carpet report gossip questions. Your fingers toyed with the ends of the jersey, not sure what to say.

"I think you would look prettier. Mouth full of cock, drool dripping down, staining my jersey..." Oliver's voice trails off like a broken poem spoken during open mic night.

Your panties grew damp with each syllable that rolled off his tongue to the point where you were mentally cursing yourself for folding so quickly.

So much for attempting to gain control?

Before Oliver could say anything else, you're dropping to your knees without another word. Your eyes met with his as you're thirstily tugging the black slacks down his ankles. Your hand teasingly brushed against his bulge through his boxers. "What you waiting for, for me to shove it in your mouth?" His tone comes off as significantly condensing—as if he is growing impatient.

"Didn't know you were in a rush." You commented as you leaned forward on your knees, fingers grasping at the band of his black-colored Calvin Klein's.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Oliver's lips parted to spit out a sarcastic comment, but before he could give you the pleasure of that—you're pushing yourself closer on your knees to take him in your mouth. Instantly your hand grasped at the shaft of his cock that couldn't fit into his mouth, slowly stroking it teasingly as you pucker your lips to kiss the tip of his cock. Your lips began to stain with the taste of his precum that leaked through the slit of his tip, and you seemed to moan at the feeling of your mouth being stuffed. Your eyes shifted close to relinquish the sense of pleasuring Oliver.

With your teasing kitten licks, Oliver took it upon himself to buck his hips to feel more of your mouth. With each thrust forward, the tip of his cock tapped at the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Your drool begins to pool out your mouth messily, and Oliver's eyes glistened in amusement at the sight. His fingers toy with your curls before he pulls you off his cock with a seductive pop.

Your tear-filled eyes stared up at Oliver, completely breathless as you were attempting to enjoy being able to breathe once again. Oliver's lips curve into a devious smirk as he leans down to grab hold of your face, his callous hands squishing your cheeks together for your lips to pucker. He's leaning in as if he wants to kiss you, but he pulls away.

"If you ball your left hand in a fist, maybe, just maybe, you'll handle my cock in your mouth better." He teased before he tried again.

His cock once again took comfort in your mouth, and you're taking note of his tip this time. Your fist balled up while you inched forward. Slowly his cock disappears in your mouth bit by bit.

Your drool stained the jersey on your body with each brash thrust forward. Your eyeliner smudged down your heated cheeks as you looked up at Oliver through your teary eyes. Even though his thick cock was taking your breath bit by bit—your eyes still twinkled in admiration for the soccer player, and your panties grew damper.

"Give me one good suck; remember what I told you. 'kay?" His fingers grasp at your coils as if he was your hair stylist—ushering you forward some more to deepthroat him.

In just a quick second, you're willing to shove Oliver's cock back in your mouth until the tip of your nose is met with the coarseness of his pubic hair. His hand instantly pressed on the back of your head, entrapping you from escaping of the fiery feeling of your throat being used recklessly. As he told you, you breathed through your nose while your hand grasped his toned thighs. Your manicured nails dug into his flesh, but you knew he could care less about some nail marks on him when his cock was in your pretty mouth. Your eyes closed just in time for a single tear to drag down your cheeks before he let your head snap back so you could catch your breath. Similar to drinking your first cup of alcohol, your throat burns. The string of saliva connected between your plush bottom lip and his cock was quite a sight if you two were filming a porno.

Your knees ached from the carpet below your body as you watched Oliver finally kick his feet from the slacks around his ankles. He palmed his cock effortlessly to coat the remainder of your saliva on him.

"Get on the bed on all fours." He urges with proficiency in his tone.

"You want to be a jersey chaser, but you must earn the jersey first, princess."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You did what you were told too quickly; you wanted to question yourself if he had some spell cast on you. You not spitting out some snarky comment during comments weren't your thing. Perhaps his cock bruising the back of your throat put you in your place, but it was too soon to judge when his cock hadn't driven its way inside you.

With your butt up in the air, you quivered, feeling his callous fingertips trace alongside the curve of your spine. His thick cock resting in between your cheeks. Your hips bucked back just to feel some friction—your pussy twitching in anticipation of feeling Oliver's cock.

"Don't be so impatient. My dick isn't going anywhere." His fingertips teasingly trace his name on your spine.

You felt the pad of Oliver's thumb brushing against your pussy lips through your soaked panties. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip before you spoke, "Could you stop the teasing?"

Oliver ignored your question as he tugged the lace fabric down your thighs. As if you're a fragile doll, he's helping you out of your panties. "Now I see why you're so impatient," Oliver mumbles as he grabs hold of his cock, guiding it towards you.

The relaxed sigh that came from Oliver when his cock felt how wet you were was like music to your ears. Your body felt so hot, feeling him shove his cock inside you little by little. Not because he wanted you to get used to his size but to push you further to the edge to beg for more.

"Please." You whimpered out as your fingers intertwined with the sheets.

"That's what I wanted to hear." He leans over, placing the sloppiest kisses down your spine.

You felt so strange because, during your other hookups, you never felt like this. Your body never felt like it was going through a continuous fever by just a subtle task like pasting kisses on your spine covered with his jersey. Your pussy never fluttered around a man's cock in anticipation. Simply curious about how exactly the Oliver Aiku strokes were.

They started off slowly; perhaps he was getting used to your drooling cunt gripping around him like a tight glove. Then the pace quickened, and the grip on your waist tightened. He now had a pace that was pleasurable for both of you. It left you creaming and fluttering around his cock, making you feel like you were on top of the world. It made Oliver feel so pussy drunk that he saw stars. The adrenaline going through his veins at the moment felt similar to when he was doing what he does best on the field. His multi-colored hair began sticking to his forehead due to the sweat droplets dribbling down his forehead. His hands grasped at his jersey that you wore so perfectly—using the jersey to yank back on his cock like a toy yo-yo.

The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other could be heard in the hotel room. You were sure Oliver didn't care for the guests residing in the neighboring hotel rooms. With each buck of his hip, it seems to have more aggression to it. Each thrust felt like he was attempting to express something.

Your whimpers and his hushed whines continued to intertwine with each other like a sultry tune. In such a pornographic position with your hip gripped so tightly that you were sure it was getting bruised—you adored hearing Oliver's moans. They were brash yet whiny. He was enjoying this just as much as you.

"Where does my pretty little slut want my cum, hm?" Oliver asked.

With each word that came out, he pushed his hips forward harshly to meet the plumpness of your handprint-stained ass cheeks. Your tears stained the sheets below your body as you let out muffled moans at Oliver's question—completely ignoring his question because you were so close to crumbling down yourself.

"Your back." His grip on your waist tightens as he bottoms down inside of you. Shoving his full weight upon you, completely entrapping you from running away from his harsh thrusts.

"Or maybe inside this pretty pussy of yours, hm? So many choices." He grunts out.

It became too inaudible for you to answer his question when the only feeling you could feel was the sensational feeling that sat at the pit of your stomach. Your thighs shook violently, feeling Oliver's pace only quicken. In a matter of seconds, you saw stars in your tear-filled eyes, and the only form of language you knew was Oliver's name while your cunt fluttered around his thick cock—just in time for him to finally decide where to cum at.

Despite the two of you hitting a high of pleasure—that didn't stop Oliver from filling you up with his cum. His hips sloppily push forward to ensure no droplets of his cum escape. Oliver released his grasp on your waist as he hesitantly pulled out, his cock coated with a ring of his cum.

When exhaustion finally hit you, your body felt like a fresh bowl of Jell-O. Your limbs felt like you did the same training your dad would put guys in his training camp through. Instantly, you're sitting up to grasp your gown on the ground—but Oliver stops you.

"I don't stay the night when this.." Your hand motions between the two of you. "Happens." You add.

"Now you do; you're too exhausted to even move."

"No, I'm not."

"Well, want to go another round?" Oliver grins down at you, and you glimpse up at him before letting your body drop back on the mattress below your body.

"You're insane, I'm going to sleep."

As you got comfortable on the king-size mattress, you heard Oliver chuckle and disappear into the bathroom. Before uttering any other snarky comment, you drifted off to sleep with Oliver on your mind.

The following morning, you woke up to the sun kissing your soft skin and the constant dinging of your cell phone. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stretched like an exhausted black cat before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You pushed yourself up and grasped at the hotel sheets. The previous night was a vivid blur until you noticed the spot where Oliver was laying was empty. You woke up alone with the scent of Oliver engraving your skin and breakfast on the table in the corner. Your hand went to rub the sleep out of your eyes while scrolling through your countless social media notifications. You would have thought that you had flashed a stranger with the way your phone had been going off.

Your plan of silencing your phone and returning to continue your beauty rest was halted when you finally saw the post that had everyone in a frenzy. Oliver had tagged you in a picture wearing his jersey. You assumed he took the picture after you had dozed off after the amazing sex the two of you engaged in. The caption had your eye twitching in annoyance—but it reminded you that with Oliver, he'll always have the upper hand.

According to Oliver, you were no longer collecting jerseys.

— tags: @lawscorazon @eiflawriting @maydayaisha @sailewhoremoon @simpliheavenli @whore4mikey @gg-trini @saaturno @sirenh4ll @wh0reforlevi @m00nchildthings @foxthroats @cherrypussprincess @anahryal @orchid3a @hellshedevil @21-06-1996 @iluvgiveon99 @la-musaa @fairylibra @black-yn @smileyy-cakee @shamelesshoefairy @bubble4u @mimi321us @atesumu @kristvns @b-achiras @diorlov3er @dior-fawn @stunnababyyabyyy @sookisaurus @aizensballsweat @jellymantra33 @http-twyla @euixnaa @cactusmghao