#that’s a fun little fact that tore my heart out

[thenameisgul]

I woke up with a deep ache in my heart thinking about how Cas rebelled and fell from heaven, lost his entire family and purpose, spent 12 years pining for dean from afar,

spent the last few months fighting with Dean and thinking he was a burden, an obstacle, the thing that always goes wrong

and then died believing that his true happiness is always only going to be in accepting the fact that he loves his bestfriend who will never seem him as anything more

Season 15 the devastation that you are

[kelstey]

mattheo riddle ☆ confess

mattheo riddle x reader

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

he hadnt taken his eyes off of you once.

mattheo's gaze lingered on you the whole time you were on the dance floor, not going unnoticed by you. you continued to grind against some random gryffindor, acting oblivious to mattheo's death stare.

less aimed at you, more at the boy who clearly got too excited. mattheo tried to control the urge to absolutely tear him apart then and there but he couldn't. he didn't fancy getting into trouble.

it was even worse that you were wearing a slightly provocative dress - mattheo didn't mind, he could fight. but he did mjnd the fact that someone else's hands were all over you, not his.

you felt grossed out as the gryffindor's hands trailed down your body, wishing they were mattheos as his touch was the only thing you craved.

mattheo finally tore his eyes away from the scene, going over to the drinks table to join his other slytherin friends.

"when are you going to tell her?" enzo asked as he noticed mattheo's arrival.

"what?" mattheo looked at enzo confused.

"don't act stupid, you're in love with the damn girl. you do realise she's one of the most beautiful

- if not most beautiful girl in hogwarts, and other guys are most definitely plotting," enzo sipped the torturous alcohol mixed punch.

"what if she doesn't feel the same way?" mattheo said before taking a shot of vodka, the burn of the liquor tore down his throat.

"don't be silly. you both look at each other like you're the only other people in the world, everyone can see it. but id hurry cause looks like that boy she's dancing with has some other plans," enzo motioned his head to where you were dancing up against a boy.

mattheo's jaw clenched as the other boys hands made their way around your body, a desperate look in his eyes along with a clear bulge as your ass grinded on him.

without thinking, mattheo walked over to you, ripping you away from the boy. "mattheo what the fuck?!" you slurred.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asked as he held your arm.

"having fun, what else does it look like?" you replied.

"really? cause i can see the disgust in your face as you dance on this twat," mattheo said angrily.

"what's your deal? it's not like we're dating," you said. what you didn't realise is that those words felt like multiple stabs going through his heart.

he knew you weren't dating, of course. the two of you were just best friends who clearly had feelings for each other but were far too stubborn to ever admit it.

"fine, be like that then," mattheo said and let go of you before storming off.

a week had passed since that party, an awkward tension laid amongst your friend group every time the two of you were there that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

neither of you had spoken a word to each other, once again your stubbornness and pride were both far too high to break the no contact.

"for fucks sake! cant the two of you just make up?" draco threw his hands up in the air. the boys were all having a discussion in the slytherin common room about the whole situation between you and mattheo.

"no way, if she wants to speak to me, she can speak to me. i am not talking to her," mattheo rolled his eyes.

"the two of you are literally two little kids, grow up and get over it," blaise added in.

"i agree, mattheo you have no problem getting with other girls so why is it so hard for you to do that with her?" draco said.

mattheo pondered for a bit. why was it so hard? maybe due to the fact that he was purely and utterly in love with you compared to the other girls in hogwarts who were really only used for his pleasure.

"see! you not speaking says so much, get a grip and tell her," blaise said.

"suck my dick," mattheo said before storming off to go to the black lake. he liked the peace; and even better that it was raining so no other students were likely to be there.

apart from you of course. you were sat feeding a squirrel with some trail mix you had in your bag. you were slumped at the bottom of a tree, reading peacefully before spotting a red squirrel.

it made its way over to you and you remembered the mixed nuts you had. you were in awe of the small creature, how it had no fear being cradled in your hand as you fed it.

a twig snapped which scared the squirrel and it ran off. "are you fucking joking me?" you stood up and turned to the source of the noise.

and of course mattheo was stood there. "what are you doing here?" he asked.

"i wanted some peace and quiet," you mumbled before picking up your book and tote bag, ready to leave.

"what's your problem?" mattheo stepped in your way before you could walk past him.

"you!" you shoved his chest and he stumbled back.

"me? right, and what have i done?" he raised his voice.

you grew frustrated, you didn't actually have much of a problem with mattheo. and it didn't help that he looked amazing as the rain soaked his hair and part of his shirt, just enough for you to see his toned abs.

"you know what you've done!" you raised your voice back, you didn't give a reasoning due to the fact you didn't have one, of course you could not lose this argument.

"yeah? why don't you tell me then?" mattheo walked up to you, his large frame towering over you.

"just get out of my head! fuck! every single day you're just there, and i can't help but think of you all the time. do you know how annoying it is seeing you have a new girl sit on your lap almost every time we eat at the great hall? how you want every girl in hogwarts but me? cant you see i fucking love you mattheo?" you shouted, tears welling in your eyes from the overly raw emotions and the fact you just poured your heart out to him.

"so you think ignoring me is going to solve the problem?" mattheo asked.

"yes - no - i don't know?! i want to stop loving you but i can't! i've loved you since second year and i always will!" you confessed.

"what the fuck? i've loved you since second year!" mattheo confessed back.

"then why the fuck aren't you doing anything about it?" you questioned. your question was quickly answered when mattheo grabbed your face and pulled you in. his lips smashed onto yours and things quickly escalated into a very intense make out session.

the anger and annoyance you had from the past week quickly disappeared, you couldn't help but now feel completed and happy. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. mattheo's hands snaked around your waist, somehow getting you even closer.

the two of you broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"why didn't you do that sooner?" you asked.

"i'm doing it now, and i think that's all that matters."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[theemporium]

Could you possibly write something for Nico where he dates shy reader and he is all lovey dovey with her post game win when they celebrate together? Perhaps she wears his jersey? Thank you for considering. 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Nico, it was more so the fact the games were a lot more intense and intimidating when you were in person.

You watched every game without fail, though usually it was from the comfort of your own couch whilst you were buried in one of his hoodies. And despite what people assumed, he didn’t mind. He knew you supported him. He knew that the second the game was over, you would be on the phone to him to tell him exactly what you thought of the game, always complementing the way he played regardless of whether the Devils won or lost.

And he knew games in person weren’t really your thing. You didn’t like the attention of being sat by the glass and, even though you got along with the other players’ families and friends, it still felt a little intense to be in a suite with them for the whole game. You didn’t like the pressure of having to keep up friendly small talk during the game, but Nico knew you would because you would have felt bad otherwise. 

So, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that you didn’t go to his games. 

But there was something that made his heart want to burst out of his chest on the games you did attend in person. 

“Fuck you, Panthers!” 

Nico huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Jack’s antics. The boy was already one too many drinks deep into their post-game celebration after—by some miraculous turn of events—thrashing the Panthers on Jersey soil with a buzzing 6-1. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Nico teased, but the boy didn’t care as he grinned widely at his captain. 

“Give it a break, Cap, go back to making heart eyes at your girl!” Jack snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. He didn’t think Nico had let go of you since he had stepped out of the locker room. “We fucking broke the streak! We are allowed to celebrate!”

“Let him have his fun,” you said, your arms tightening to gain your boyfriend’s attention as he tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at you. His gaze softened in an instant and it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You all deserve to celebrate the win after the rough streak.” 

“Hm, maybe we won because you were here,” Nico teased, though there was a sincerity in his words that made you think he truly believed his own words. “Wanna come to Montreal with us?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Today was all you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nico said with a massive smile on his lips as his fingers playfully tugged on the hem of the jersey you were wearing. “We lost the last five games until my girl walked in with her lucky jersey on. I think that’s all the proof we need.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the lucky jersey in question. It was an old jersey of his, maybe one from a year or two ago. He had given it to you near the start of your relationship, when he was leaving for his first roadie since you started seeing each other. You joked about buying some Devils merch to support him whilst you watched the games and he had handed you the jersey the night before he left. You wore it for every game you watched—or at least, you tried to. 

This had been the first game in a while you had worn it since you lost it in the process of moving apartments with Nico, into an apartment big enough for the two of you.

“You hockey players and your superstitions,” you murmured, tucking your chin against your chest to hide how flushed ‘my girl’ made you.

But Nico was one step ahead of you as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, lifting your head until he could look down at your flustered face with a soft smile. “I heard kissing the captain after a win gives the team good luck for their next.”

You laughed and his expression brightened. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an old hockey legend,” Nico nodded. 

“Well, you gotta kiss him now!” Jack exclaimed from the other side of the table. “We need the luck!”

You laughed harder as you wrapped your arms around his waist once again and grinned up at him. “I think I can get behind that superstition.”

And Nico barely gave you a chance to finish your sentence before he leaned down to kiss you, his smile pressed against yours.

.

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you always knew oliver aiku was a bad influence. but just how bad, exactly? let's just say that if your parents ever looked out the window and happened to peep inside oliver's idle sports car, someone is about to get murdered tonight.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 + 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗 with oliver aiku

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, perv!oliver, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, sex in a car, fwb!oliver, repressed feelings, oliver is a jackass, language

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── for the anons who once asked me many moons ago abt oliver corrupting us—this one's for you 🖤

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

“Oli, we can’t do this.”

Your whimpers were lost in the scruff of his neck, a breathy moan released from the tight confines of your lips into the heat of his Porsche’s interior. 

“Mhm.” 

Honestly, if it wasn't for a soft spot you had for Oliver Aiku, you would've stabbed him.

Many men tried to get you in this position, but they could never succeed. 

You were a headstrong woman; tenacious, a hard worker and a corporate climber through and through. You had dated boys who thought the peak of communication was Snapchat streaks and “you up?” texts. But, you had never dated a man like Oliver.

In your defence, ‘dated’ seemed to be a stretch. 

Oliver was a wild ride for sure. 

Tall, handsome, pockets lined full with a pro-athlete salary, he was every girl's wet dream. 

After years in the media industry, you learned to differentiate the bad apples and genuinely lost ones. You have encountered influencers, moguls and celebrities under the scrutiny of your analytical and roaming eye. However, Oliver was an enigma to you. 

Though friendly and approachable to everyone else, you couldn’t help but feel there was a part of him he tried to hide from the world. A part which shredded through football fields and tore men’s hopes and dreams from their white-knuckled clutches. 

Many people had been destroyed by Oliver’s sheer force, both on the field and off of it if his playboy status was anything to go by. And you would be damned if you were going to be one of them. 

“Oli,” you muttered, a little firmer this time. 

The rough strip of his tongue teased your sensitive earlobe and you hissed, flinching from the sudden stimulation. 

“Oliver.” 

“What?” 

He sounded a little pissed off. You may be younger than the girls he was used to, but you were experienced enough from your years networking under intense strain and pressure to figure out when you were on the losing end of a potential relationship. 

With Oliver, it was a constant push and pull. As you moved forward, he pulled back. And for whatever reason, when he decided to reach out, you would hesitate to let him back in.

Anyone would decide that such a relationship—if it could be even called that—was doomed from the beginning.

But, Oliver and you never did have a conventional relationship. 

He saw you as a plaything, and you regarded him as a little bit of fun to unwind after a hectic week. It was a mutual agreement based on a sudden spark of crazy chemistry which neither of you wanted to solidify. 

Those large, rough hands which were used to causing destruction on the field, were parting your thighs softly, reaching for the soft promise of pleasure in between them.

In other circumstances, you would let Oliver have his way with you. But today, you were determined to put up a flimsy boundary—one he was desperate to break. 

“Oliver, my house is just a few feet away.” 

True to your words, the place you rested your head for every night was in the form of your parent’s modest two storey home right in the heart of downtown Tokyo. 

Lace curtains iced its domestic eggshell white walls, keeping you safe in the veil of night and away from prying eyes. But, the thrill laid in the fact that anyone who pulled apart those flimsy curtains could catch a look of you in such a compromising position. The engine of his idle car thrummed underneath your thighs, and you wished you had worn a longer skirt to combat his straying touches. 

If there was one thing Oliver reminded you of, it was a hurricane. His determination and stubbornness pushed him to where he was today—rising high in the world's eye. 

It was one of the traits you admire about him—and one which would change your morals forever. 

“I can’t,” you murmured in a cross between a hitched breath and a soft moan. “Oliver—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head off. Just let me feel you.”

Those unique dual-tone eyes flashed sincerely under the waning street lamp light. There were times when Oliver’s simple touches and presence could push out the nagging thoughts in your mind, and there were instances when it drew up red flags in your periphery like a race day warning. 

Like speeding down the highway without a seatbelt on, you were sure kissing someone else would never be as enthralling as kissing Oliver Aiku. 

The scruff of his sparse five-o-clock shadow and moustache rubbed on the soft skin of your chin. You tasted the beer he drank for dinner, and a little bit of your own fruity lip gloss in between the curls of his tongue. 

Everything about Oliver was enticing; how he kissed, how he fucked, how he made you feel like you were the only girl in his world when you knew that was the furthest from the reality. He was also attentive when he wasn’t a huge prick. Out of the men you fooled around with, Oliver remembered exactly what you liked and he wasn’t afraid to push those lines. 

His hand was between your thighs again, this time pushing your skirt up inch by agonising inch. You didn’t fight him, too dizzy and weak with lust. He used two thick fingers to pry apart the seat of your panties, already sticky with arousal and ready for the taking. 

“So perfect,” he whispered into your neck. “How're you so perfect for me?” 

Over time, you had to tell yourself it was just words from a man who wanted to lure you into bed and they didn’t mean a thing.

But sometimes, you forgot. You forgot that this wasn’t real, that Oliver doesn’t actually love you. 

It didn’t help that his kisses felt like coming home at the end of a hard day; though already complicated as it was, whatever emotion you both harboured for each other could never be said out loud. 

He tipped your head towards him again, to catch your lips in a languid, teasing kiss that was more tongue than lips. The taste of him sent a thrill down your spine, settling right into your core. 

“Can I feel you, baby? Can I touch you here?” He stroked the soft flesh of your inner thigh with his thumb, locking eyes with you in the half-light. 

They brought you down a spiral; into a light purple and a hazel green tide which tried to rip apart your resolve. 

You were half out of your mind when you nodded, giving your consent with a shaky little sigh. 

He immediately pounced onto that opportunity like a panther to your jugular. 

Using his strength, Oliver dragged you onto his lap, where you fit against his edges snuggly. Those plush lips descended upon yours again, and he kissed away your troubles and worries, only determined to bring towards the brink of giving everything up for him.

Like a riptide, it was no use holding him back. 

Oliver had fucked you in shady motels and even in his practice locker room, but this was new territory. The both of you were within reach of your parents who had no idea of your budding situationship with the famous footballer. 

At the reminder of them, you broke the kiss off with a gasp, pinning your wide eyes onto his half-mast ones.

“Oli, how tinted are these windows?” 

“Really tinted,” he murmured without a shred of hesitation. Despite yourself, you believed him. 

You let him kiss down your neck, bite on your collarbones and pull you back in for more sloppy kisses. Unlike other men, Oliver wasn’t jumping into the main event. 

He took his time to prep you, slipping two fingers through your folds and gathering the slick there to rub along your entire entrance and back hole. Though his movements were jerky, he was still gentle with you—peppering smooches down the bridge of your nose and jaw.

If you were a weaker girl, you were sure your heart would melt into your ruined panties just for Oliver Aiku. 

He hummed, feeling you slowly ease yourself up and down his two fingers, fucking yourself on those static digits.

The first time he met you, Oliver was sure you were an upstuck, prudish type of girl. You weren’t exactly his flavour of woman, but where would the fun be without a challenge? 

He spent weeks pursuing you, doing the cheesy lame boyfriend shit people like Isagi would do for some girl he met two weeks ago. 

But, Oli’s goal was simple: Make someone else who wasn’t his type be into him.

Though you were right here with him, the task felt impossible. It was hard to get a woman who already had everything to take a chance on him. Your life was perfect—great job, great friends, supportive parents.

What could a man like him offer besides sending you to additional therapy sessions on your insurance’s dime? 

Under all the layers of his cocky playboy persona, Oliver knew he was a wreck waiting to implode. He never felt good enough to warrant a spot on Japan’s football team. He was insecure and lacked control in every part of his life except his dating one. 

It was why he went after more soft-willed girls than you.

And why the sight of you undulating your hips over his fingers nearly sent him into overdrive. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “You’re really something, huh, Y/N. Look at you—getting yourself off on your own. Good girl.”

Something about his tone and that endearment made both your heart and pussy throb.

“Oli,” you sniffled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Oliver had barely touched you—he had fondled, kissed and fingered you—yet, you were already dripping for him. 

Such eagerness made your cheeks burn, and you hiccuped more of your moans back, afraid to let him hear.

But, Oliver—as attentive and controlling as he was—could sniff your shame from a mile away. He nudged your face up to look into his, those soft, dual-toned eyes edged with a ring of steel in them that cut through your flimsy bleats. 

“Let go for me,” he urged, brushing the pads of his fingers down your soft cheek, and you lost yourself in his unique eyes and handsome face again. “Don’t be afraid to show your real self to me, angel.”

Again, something in you broke. 

The last flimsy excuse, your remaining shred of dignity… all for you to finally hiccup: “Oliver, please fuck me.” 

That was all the begging he needed. 

Oliver slid his pants and boxers down, far enough for his cock to spring free and leave a smear of pre on your exposed soft belly. Your skirt was around your hips, panties pushed to the side, and that was how he took you. 

The stretch burned, but it was a satisfactory one. Your thighs ached and tears were smarting in your eyes. 

Oliver was bigger than most guys and you weren’t used to taking him without a soft bed and a little more prep work. 

But, you held onto his shoulders, every bit of your skin feeling like it was on fire from trying to hold back your moans. You didn’t want anyone to hear, or for random people to suspect; even when the car frame started to shake or the windows began to fog up. 

This was your tryst with Oliver Aiku; your dirty little secret. 

He pulled you close to kiss you again, and this time, those large hands moved to the front of your shirt, kneading your breasts with an eager vigour. You let him lift the hem up, untuck your bra cups and bathe your slowly stiffening nipples with soft kitten licks. 

Oliver guided your hips to grind down on his cock, while he suckled and tongued your buds to stiffness. The filthy squelch of your pussy coating his length with her excitement and the smack of his lips and tongue turning your nipples into fleshy diamonds echoed through the car. You were lightheaded and felt like someone had spiked your system with alcohol.

The sleek lines of his Porsche’s interior were swimming in your eyes, and you felt like you could faint from the excitement. 

Your internal pressure ticked up a notch when one large palm of his wrapped around your neck, stopping your breath in your throat. If there was one thing you were sure Oliver was made for, it was to drive you insane.

He squeezed down on you, while intermittently fucking into you with clean, sharp thrusts. He kept a consistent pattern—squeeze, fuck, let you breathe, squeeze, fuck…

“Oli!” you wheezed in between those breaths he gifted you, your swimming eyes breaking and tears running down your cheeks. “Oliver…”

“Cum for me,” he coaxed, slipping his thumb in between your lips where you sucked on the tip with what he thought was almost love. He retracted his thumb, glossy with your spit and notched it right on your windpipe, putting pressure.

Oliver watched the ecstasy, fear and lust flash across your expressions, one melange of an erotic sight he would remember forever. 

“Let yourself go, baby,” he urged, squeezing down on your throat, while you felt his abs undulate against the soft planes of your belly—a tell-tale sign he was going to cum. A pinch appeared in his brow, and sweat bulleted down his forehead. 

“G’na—fuck—you’re so tight,” he nearly gasped that last part out. “Pussy so perfect for me. Go on then, give ‘em a show… show everyone how you’re creaming just for me, sweetheart.” 

Just as you were approaching your high where white light was flooding behind your closed lids, Oliver pressed his damp lips to your ear, his whisper cutting through the fog and bringing your climax crashing down like an implosion.

“The windows aren’t actually tinted, baby… everyone just saw you fucking my cock so good.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head, manicured nails stabbing into his shoulders. Despite every fibre of your being yelling at you to stop and hop out from his lap, something darker and sultrier begged you to stay—to give into this ruin. 

Those voices warred and clashed with each other for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity as you were stretched out on another plane of pleasure no one could touch. Your ribs expanded, your spine arched and your toes curled and—

“Oliver!” 

With everything you had, you came for him. 

All the voices in your head stopped; replaced by the chanting of his name over and over again. 

Like he was a prayer and you were the repentant sinner, you sobbed out his name, holding onto his neck like a lifeline and slowly bucking your hips up and down, prolonging the almost cruel pleasure.

Oliver came around the same time you did, with a grunt and his fingers clawing into the doughy flesh of your hips. 

You sagged against him, and through a lapse of judgement, his lips found your temple, leaving a small peck on the sweaty skin.

Oliver held you like you were meant to be cradled. You couldn’t think about anything that occurred within these past few minutes; your mind was on a fever high and your body was melted to his like hot wax pooling into a holder. 

“You okay?” His deep voice rumbled under your cheek.

You nodded, too exhausted to speak.

“Can you walk?” 

Flexing your thighs, you offered another pathetic nod.

“Do you want to stay here for a bit or go?”

You should probably go. After all, it was encroaching a tender territory you dared not ventured through. He felt too good, too comfortable to leave, but you ignored the screaming in your bones when you forced yourself off his lap and back into the passenger seat.

Adjusting your panties, skirt and shirt, you flashed him a tight smile, one which he echoed with an uncertain grin.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke, and it felt like you were leaving a movie just before the good part came on. 

But, you had already seen multiple films like these before, starring numerous women this great actor before you had duped and jilted. 

You weren’t interested in entering his rotating roster of desperate girls waiting to be picked, so you strengthen your resolve and put your dignity back in the driving seat.

“Bye, Oliver.”

He hummed. “Bye, Y/N. Goodnight.” 

Oliver didn’t offer to see you again, and you didn’t bother mentioning it.

Sometime next week, the both of you would fall back into this toxic cycle—either you would call him up drunk out of your mind or he would get pissed off during his training and call you after to let off some steam. Rinse and repeat. 

Life was predictable like that with Oliver. You didn’t want to disturb the peace.

You got out of his car, adjusting your skirt one more time. Usually, you would never turn back to give him a second glance—out of sight, out of mind.

But, this time, something compelled you to turn around, and when you did, you gasped out loud; nearly running towards his retreating car to smack the roof, the hood or even the lying man behind the wheel. 

Through those crystal clear windows which were obviously not heavily tinted like he promised, Oliver shot you a smirk and a wave, leaving you stewing in both horror and an inexplicable desire to fuck that smug look off his stupidly handsome face as the reality sank in. 

You had fucked Oliver Aiku right in front of your parents, and judging from the silent house behind you and the lack of a usual warm vibe, you were positive they were going to rip through you a new one.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[captainsophiestark]

We're Good

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: TVD/TO

Summary: Kol meets Davina and finally seems serious about someone, so his best friend convinces herself to finally let go of her secret crush. But when Kol gets jealous of her paying attention to another guy, what once seemed settled might not actually be finished.

Word Count: 3,092

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Title is lightly inspired by the Dua Lipa song, although the fic doesn't totally fit it.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I tried not to scowl as I watched Kol from the second level of the Mikaelson compound. He was down on the dancefloor, in the middle of the latest party he and his family had decided to throw. I knew Nik or Elijah had some ulterior motive for hosting, but I hadn't cared because this time, I'd had my own ulterior motive. I'd put on my absolute best outfit and made sure I looked like a knockout, all so I could finally tell Kol Mikaelson, my longtime friend and crush, how I really felt about him.

And now, before I could, he was standing at the edge of the dancefloor trying to make a move on Davina Claire.

I should've known. Kol and I had been friends for a long time, and despite pretty regular flirty moments between us, he'd never taken any steps to make us something more serious. Instead, he flirted with, hooked up with, and even dated whatever mortal he'd most recently fallen for while I stood by pretending not to get my heart broken.

This time, I was done with it. For good.

I set my jaw and squinted, refusing to let the tears fall as I turned from the balcony. I almost made it into a hallway off the Mikaelson compound where I could disappear from everything, but of course, I couldn't quite get that lucky.

"He's a bloody idiot, you know."

Rebekah Mikaelson, my best friend in the world, stood before me with her hands on her hips, blocking my exit.

"Rebekah-"

"I'd love to have you for a sister-in-law, but you deserve better than one of my idiot brothers. As a boyfriend and as a friend."

"Bex, I don't want to hear it right now."

The sympathy on her face almost killed me, but she stepped aside. I thought that would be it, but then she called out to me just before I could turn the corner and escape this whole mess.

"Mourn all you like tonight, but tomorrow we're going out! There are plenty of men in this city to help you forget all about Kol!"

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

Rebekah gave me exactly one day before she started hounding me about going out on the town to forget her "idiot brother". And honestly, I might've ignored her, except for the fact that Kol spent the entire day after the ball with Davina.

I'd always known he was a flirt, but this time, he actually seemed to mean it. So I gave him more space than usual, for my sake as much as his, and spent more time wih Rebekah. We baked and went on walks, and after a while, I stopped shooting her down when she tried to drag me to bars. Kol kept hanging out with Davina, but slowly, seeing them together was starting to hurt a little less. I always thought if he found a girl to get serious about, it would be me. And a tiny little part of my heart still tore to shreds when I saw how wrong I'd been. But unlike those first few days, the heartbreak wasn't eating me alive anymore.

Which is how I ended up out at a bar with the entire Mikaelson family, dancing my heart out on the dancefloor without a second thought for whether Kol would join me.

We'd first started a montly tradition of the firve of us going out and just having fun a few years ago, and despite various dramas and the siblings scattering to the winds, we'd more or less managed to keep it up. We always picked a place a few hours from where any of us were living and planned to stay the night, so we could well and truly forget everything but having a good time together. Normally, I spent the night orbiting Kol, to the point that Nik usually had a field day giving me shit about it. Tonight had been a little different.

I'd joined Nik in dragging Elijah out of the house, gone with Rebekah to order all of us some truly strange, fun cocktails, and danced the night away on the dancefloor with all of them, without my mind or gaze constantly circling back to Kol. He didn't seem to even notice the shift, and I was surprised to find that it didn't really bother me. Kol was a good friend, after all, and with a little more time to process, maybe we'd even be better off.

"Hey!" Rebekah shouted into my ear, still barley making herself heard over the music around us. We'd been here for hours, but none of us showed any signs of slowing down just yet. "That guy at the bar has been staring at you all night!"

I turned to follow her gaze and found a handsome guy looking back. He smiled, a little sheepish, and I returned the gesture before whipping around to Rebekah.

"Why are you so fixated on setting me up with somebody?"

"Because it's fun! And I haven't got to do it once in all the time I've known you because you've been so hung up on Kol. So come on, let me have my fun!"

I made a face. I wasn't sure I wanted to take a chance on the random person Rebekah had found, regardless of me finally being over Kol. She huffed, then leaned in to speak in my ear again.

"Just trust me! I compelled him and asked him some questions, and he seems like someone you'd get along quite well with!"

I closed my eyes. "You compelled him, Rebekah? Seriously?"

"Well how else was I supposed to make sure he wasn't some sleezy werewolf or something? Go on, just talk to him!"

"Fine! Fine, but it's still our Mikaelson Family Fun Day, so I'm just going to talk."

"That's fine with me! Although I promise not to judge you if you don't come back to the room tonight-"

I picked up the nearest thing I could find (a stack of napkins) and hucked it at her, which she easily dodged. I did my best to ignore her laughing behind me as I headed for the bar.

The guy smiled as I approached him, and I smiled back. I headed for an open spot standing next to him at the bar, and he started speaking as soon as I came within hearing range.

"Hey! I've been hoping you'd come over and say hi all night."

I smiled. "Why didn't you come over and say hi yourself?"

"Didn't want to interrupt you and your friends if you didn't want to be bothered," he said with a shrug. "Although, that girl Rebekah tried awfully hard to get me to come over once or twice."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Rebekah loves nothing more than meddling, especially in my life." I paused. "I'm glad she convinced me to come over and talk to you though."

"So am I! I-"

He broke off at the same time as I felt someone slide up to the bar behind me, chest almost pressed into my back. I started to turn around to tell whoever it was to back off, but a familiar voice spoke up before I could.

"Why don't you go find someone else to bother, mate?" said Kol, his tone laced with the slightest undercurrent of a threat. Apparently, he'd decided to make sure he got what he wanted, because a moment later the guy whose name I hadn't even been able to get yet turned on his heel and walked away.

I rounded on Kol with a furious scowl, but he just grinned back at me, still very close and in my personal space. Normally, the proximity would've left me with butterflies, but right now all I felt was anger growing in the pit of my stomach.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked, an edge to my voice that I'd really never directed at Kol before. His eyebrows shot up, but otherwise, he didn't seem bothered.

"I was getting rid of that creep who was bothering you. Come on, darling, I thought you'd be thanking me-"

"Thanking you? Kol, he clearly wasn't bothering me! I came up to him, for God's sake!"

"Well I'm sorry, it just looked like you might want me to step in-"

"How? How did it look like that, Kol?"

My voice was getting louder now, enough that a few people were starting to take notice, but I didn't care. I was furious at my so-called friend and he was going to hear about it.

Kol cleared his throat. "Love, maybe we should take this somewhere else-"

"Knock it off with the pet names! Kol seriously, what the fu-"

In a split second, the bar disappeared around me. Instead, I found myself thrown over Kol's shoulder as he vampire-sped out of the bar. When we finally stopped, it was just inside the front door of the house we'd all rented, with Kol's back to me as he closed the front door.

I took my opening and hurled the nearest pillow at his head. It hit its target dead on, and I got halfway through picking up another one when Kol used his vamp speed to close the distance between us and grab my wrist.

"Hey! Knock it off, alright? What's the matter?"

"What's the��matter? Are you kidding me Kol?" I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, cry, scream, or all three, but I focused on the screaming part as I faced a bewildered Kol. "You absolute hypocrite, how dare you pull me out of that bar, and how dare youstep into my conversation like that!"

"What? Is this seriously all about me scaring off that one guy? You hardley knew him!"

"Obviously it's not completely about him, although that move still sucked, Kol! It's about you thinking you have some right to barge into my life and scare off a guy who might be interested in me! Because that's what it was, right? There's no way you thought I wanted him gone, so you did all this because you wanted him gone, right?"

"...I- I guess I didn't really like seeing him with you, but-"

"But nothing! Kol, we've had just a kind of flirty friendship forever. And whenever it seemed like we might be heading into something else, you were always the one to bail out. And last month, when you found Davina and got serious about someone else, it ripped my heart out. But I forced myself to take some time and get over it! Because that's your choice, and I care about you regardless of if you want to date me. But Kol, you have been clearly, specifically going after Davina lately. Which means you have absolutely no right to come tell some guy at the bar to back off when he's flirting with me."

"Darling, come on-"

I held up a hand to cut Kol off. The storm of emotions had finally started calming, hardening into something more manageable. I'd let myself struggle in this relationship without ever having an up front conversation for far too long. We were going to set some boundaries and have it all out, whether or not Kol wanted to. I was done with the rollercoaster ride.

"Kol, I know you call a lot of people 'darling', but if you want to stay friends with me then I'm going to need you to stop calling me that."

Kol just stared at me for a few moments, blinking and apparently processing everything I'd just said. His eyebrows knit together and he looked seriously distressed, but I refused to back down. After a moment, he took a half step towards me, his hand reaching out slightly towards my own.

"...And what if I don't think I want to be friends anymore, darling?"

I scoffed, another overwhelming wave of anger rising up and over me. I shook my head and turned around, walking a few steps away and hoping the space would help me cool down.

"You better not be flirting with me right now, Mikaelson, after everything I just said and everything you've been up to with Davina lately."

"Davina and I aren't together, love. We went on a few dates after Nik's little party, but we've hardly seen each other since then, and I don't intend to keep anything going. You might have noticed, but you started avoiding me after the ball and I had no idea why."

I turned to face Kol at last, scanning his face for any hint of something that might help me make up my mind on how to feel about all this. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and I scowled.

"I wish you'd said something earlier about this little crush of yours, honestly. I didn't think I had a shot in hell with you. It would've saved us both some time."

I shook my head, slowly at first and then much much faster. Before I completely realized what I was doing, I crossed the room and smacked Kol in the chest. He was one of the oldest vamipres to ever live, so it didn't have much of an impact on him, but it definitely made me feel better.

"Kol Mikaelson, you jackass! You do not get to use this as an excuse to confess feelings for me!"

He laughed, holding up his hands and clearly fighting a beaming smile. I slowly tapered off my assault, instead opting for crossing my arms and absolutely fuming at him.

"Seriously, Kol, this isn't funny. I show interest in someone else for the first time in our friendship, and all of a sudden you're dropping everything to come and confess feelings for me? You get why I don't feel like that's completely sincere, right?"

Kol sighed, the smile finally falling off his face. He moved to close the distance between us again, and this time, I let him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not joking because it's a joke to me, I promise. I've had feelings for you as long as I've known you, darling, but I didn't think I had a chance with you. And you've been important to everyone in our family for just about as long as we've known you. If I made things complicated, or made you want to stop spending time with all of us, my siblings would've literally killed me."

I snorted, looking down so Kol wouldn't see me fighting a smile off my face. No matter what, Kol always seemed able to make me smile when I least wanted to. Normally, it was one of my favorite things about him.

"What can I do, hm? What can I do to prove I mean what I'm saying?"

I sighed, crossing my arms and at last looking up at Kol. With wide eyes and no hint of the sardonic smile I knew so well, he looked more serious than I'd ever seen him before.

"...If you're really sure about this, Kol, that you really mean this...?"

"I do. Darling, I swear I do. I promise you, I won't waste the chance if you give me one."

"Okay, then prove it. I've never seen you go more than a week without flirting with some human, witch, vampire, werewolf, or whatever other sentient beings we come across. Make it a month, and maybe I'll believe what you said about being serious about this."

"...And will we be dating for that month?"

Slowly, I shook my head. "No. I want to, Kol, and I want that to be where this goes, but... I need to see that this is real first. I want to believe it is, so badly, but after centuries of meaningless flirting and dancing around each other without a conversation, of seeing you have flings every chance you get and watching each one of those burn out... I can't just take it on faith."

Kol sighed, glancing down at the ground before meeting my eyes again. He didn't say anything, just closed the little remaining distance between us as he brought his arms up to circle my waist. He pulled me to him, leaning down with a glance at my lips, and I didn't stop him as he pulled me into a kiss.

Fireworks exploded in my chest. My knees went a little week as I leaned further into Kol, resting my hands on his shoulders. After a few long moments, just as my common sense started returning to tell me what a mistake this was, Kol pulled back with a grin.

"Sorry, darling. But I couldn't wait a month to do that."

I snorted and shook my head, stepping carefully out of Kol's grip. He watched my every move with a smile, and my heart did a backflip when he licked his lips. I told my heart to calm the hell down.

"I... certainly didn't mind the potential preview," I admitted.

Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at me.

"This is going be the longest month of my life... but if that's what it'll take, I'll make it through. I know it'll be worth it, especially now."

I rolled my eyes, but this time, I couldn't quite keep a smile off my face. Finally, my heart started returning to a normal pace, and I managed to meet Kol's eyes again without having a cardiac event.

"Alrlight, so... what do we do now? I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to go back to the bar."

"Is that a joke, darling?" He raised an eyebrow at me, but I just shook my head. His mouth dropped open like he couldn't believe I was serious. "I may not get to do the activity I most want to do right now for another month, but I did just get my best friend back after extensive radio silence. We have so many episodes of our favorite shows to catch up on!"

"...You didn't watch them without me?"

"Of course not! Did you watch them without me?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then, there you have it! That's our evening. You make the popcorn, I'll turn on the tv."

I laughed as Kol turned on his heel, getting immediately to work. I still wanted to wait the month I'd made him promise; I still wasn't confident his romantic affections wouldn't wander. But despite all that, a massive weight lifted off my chest as I headed into the kitchen for snacks. I had my best friend back, and finally, after a ridiculous amount of waiting and dancing around each other and poor communication, we were actually getting a shot at our happy ending.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[cursedcola]

Ok ok so you know the thing where it's like 'hey trust exercise' where person A runs up to person B and jumps in their arms? The one that became a meme with the hot coffee....

that. just that. Could you please write something for it using characters from twisted wonderland? Thank you!

A/N: I do know the thing lol. I think this is a super cute idea and will have some fun with it hehe...Sorry if it's not too long. I am writing this in between classes just to have a little mental break :) I also think this will work better with baby headcannons so I can do more characters. Since you did not specify any characters, I will be self indulgent. Prompt: Trust exercise! Do they catch you? Format: Baby headcannons huhuhu Characters: Everyone. Literally Everyone. I feel inspired for some reason. Warnings: None :) Tooth-ache fluff. Also not proofread. Likely grammar/spelling errors

Heartslabyul Dorm

Riddle Rosehearts

Catches you by a millisecond.

The moment he sees you running he instinctively drops the books in his hands

Yells for you to stop and puts his hands out in defense

Instinctively opens them when you jump and boom. Catch

My man has noodle arms. They instantly start to shake and you get dropped on your bum

Half-angry that you put him on the spot, and half-humiliated for dropping you. He is left shell-shocked for a moment before the fuse is lit

"What on EARTH were you thinking? Must you behave so childishly all the time?! Sometimes I wonder if you WANT me to have a heart attack....*sigh* come on. Get up. Are you injured at all?"

He thinks it's silly for you to test his 'trust,' like that. Don't do it again. Next time just talk to him.

….secretly relieved that he caught you.

Trey Clover

Arms are open before you even jump

The moment you started to speed up, he knew what would come next. It flusters him, and his ears burn but he lets you have your fun

Wraps one arm around your back and the other holds one of your legs around his waist. Nice and secure :)

Laughs a little bit before setting you down carefully

"Well, that was an excitable greeting. Maybe warn me next time, okay? What if I was holding something?"

Shakes his head in disbelief that you'd test him like this. Oh well. Its over now Best for him not to think on it.

Learns that Cater showed you the prank on Magicam, and makes his tea extra sweet. Revenge > cavities.

Cater Diamond

Does not catch you. In fact, he side-steps you.

You're quite literally sprawled on the floor and he's just standing there all smug. What? Don't even look at him like that. There's no way he could have caught you without toppling over

Cater prefers to not have a face full of dirt, thank you very much

He knows what you were trying to do, and also purposefully chose to 'fail'

"Hmm~ Now why would you use such a silly method to test me? Don't we take enough exams in class (Y/N)? You're no fair..."

Despite the taunts, he holds out a hand to help you up. He'll clean your face a bit with a handkerchief and leave a cheeky peck on your cheek before going about the rest of his day

Ace Trappola

Tries to catch you. Does not succeed.

In his defense, Ace is never on full alert. Especially during the school day.

You started running at him and he full on panicked. A genuine scream to stop tore through his throat, and he held his arms out

You, in fact, did not stop. Therefore you both fell on the ground with him on the bottom

Ace is not happy

"What is wrong with you?! If my back's broke then the medical bill is on your shoulders, not mine!"

When you explain to him, he still is pissed but does feel bad for yelling at you

"...well, whatever. You don't need some stupid test to know I'm trustworthy anyways. I prove it every day, right?"

....right? Please say yes or else he will overthink this hardcore later.

Deuce Spade

Catches you on instinct.

The moment you start running he assumes something is wrong, and opens his arms to give you a hug. When you jump? Well, that's just an extra step

His feet slide back against the ground and he wobbles for a millisecond. However, he's steady. He wraps both arms around your waist firmly, and leans back to get a look at your face.

"What's wrong?! Why are you in such a hurry?!"

His eyes flicker anxiously between the direction you came from and your face

He's relieved when you tell him that everything is okay, and that you just wanted to see if he would catch you

"Don't scare me like that! I was seriously worried!"

He's still holding you, and becomes bashful once the adrenaline dials down. He mutters a quick apology while gently setting you down. Avoiding eye-contact, he excuses himself and promises to hang out later. For now, be still his beating heart

Savanaclaw Dorm

Leona Kingscholar

Yes. You don't give him enough time to think through the situation, and so he acts. Albeit a bit roughly.

The moment you jump he's reaching with one arm, startled. It wraps around your waist and hoists you over his shoulder. The other hand reaches for his wand, and he's on high alert.

Says nothing. Just grunts upon impact and scans the area.

You'll have to pat his back a few times to be let down, and it is needless to say that he is not pleased with your joke

His eyebrows draw downward with his classic scowl, and he's lowkey disappointed in you. He thought you more straight-headed than to do something like this

"You- ugh. Whatever. I caught you, so I win, right? Happy?"

Deems scolding you more trouble than it's worth. Last thing he needs is for you to get mad at him. That'll just give him an even bigger headache.

Ruggie Bucchi

Does...not. He knows that you're coming. He heard the footsteps a mile away. He simply is a snot-nosed little arse

You're running at him from behind, and the moment you get near he steps to the side. He does his little shishishishi laugh when you face plant on the floor.

When you don't get up, he crouches down and pokes your head.

"Hey, you alright? That was a pretty harsh fall. I can't imagine what caused it,"

Laughs again, but feels a bit bad if you don't reciprocate. Okay. You got him. He's sooooooo untrustworthy. An utter fool, if you will.

With a tsk, he grabs you by the elbow and eases you up.

"Yup, yup. I'm cruel, I know. Let's go get a snack, alright? It's on me - and by me, I mean that it's on Leona shishishisi"

Jack Howl

This boulder doesn't even flinch. Like clockwork, he's startled but instinctively readies his stance. You quickly land safely in his arms, and are back on the ground in a jiffy. Almost as if you never tried to tackle him in the first place.

He holds you at arms length with an eyebrow raised.

"Uhm....are you good? What was that about?"

He doesn't understand how catching you proves that he is trustworthy, but if it makes you happy then he'll do it as often as you'd like. Just give him a heads up next time, ok?

Won't admit it, but he liked holding you. Even if it was for a fleeting moment, it felt right. If you ever asked for a piggy-back ride or to be carried, he wouldn't be opposed at all. The realization embarrasses him greatly.

Octovinelle Dorm

Azul Ashengrotto

Does not, and is extremely ashamed. He does not fail tests, academic or otherwise!

He’s not weak. This man has a very healthy diet and regularly exercises. He is confident that he would have succeeded with no issue, had you not startled him. Our little cephalopod here gets flustered very easily. Only by you though.

Normally he can hide it but you 100% startled him. Can you even judge? One moment all was peaceful and the next thing he knows you’re barreling towards him. All giddy and like “catch me, catch me!” …ugh. His heart couldn’t take it.

What’s worse is that Jade caught you in his stead. He’s appreciative that you were not harmed by his lack of reflex….but the humiliation. Dear gods.

He demands that you do it again. Leave him and then try again another time when he isn’t expecting it…which is impossible since he will be on high alert 24/7. Azul fails to understand that the purpose of the test is now null, and that it tests for impulse

“A-again! Go on. Get a running start and do it again! Into my awaiting arms!…do not argue. I will not fail this time so give me another chance,”

His ego requires it, so just do it. He can’t stand the idea of failing and that image of Jade carrying you is lingering in his mind

Floyd Leech

Catches you easily. Nothing startles this guy. Well, okay, some things do. Nothing that’s physical though.

He hears you yelling for him? Well that’s just a normal day in his life. You’re running his way”? Awwwwwwweeee his little Shrimpy is so excited to see him! That’s so rare!

He’s running to meet you half way. It nearly makes you halt but the test needs answers!

He hooks his hands under your arms mid-air, and spins you around at arms length before bringing you in for a hug. All the while he has a giant grin on his face

“Did you miss me that much??? I guess I haven’t been giving you enough attention…not that I’d mind it if you do this every day hehe~”

He doesn’t care about the test, so long as you do it again. You won’t be leaving his arms any time soon si get comfortable

Jade Leech

Another to catch you easily. He does it flawlessly, like catching a balloon or a feather

He hears your approach and chooses to ignore it until the last moment. Then he turns effortlessly to capture you bridal style, set you down, and return to what he was originally doing. If anyone’s in shock, it’s you.

Then he’ll finish up and turn to you as if nothing even happened. While his gentle smile and hand on his heart are unknowing - the smug crinkle of his eyes says otherwise. He is highly amused, not in your little stunt but in the reaction he managed to create

Caresses your face with one of his gloved hands and asks how your day has gone. Once answered, he leans down to plant a light kiss on your cheek before leaving

“Oh, I almost forgot. Please be more careful in the future. Had it not been you, I would have reacted much differently to someone ‘attacking’ fufu. I love your enthusiasm dearly, and am always happy to hold you. You need only ask,”

Scarabia Dorm

Kalim Al' Asim

Sunshine meets you half way. He sees you running at him with a mega grin and instantly knows what’s going on. Social cues be damned, he wants to be loved

More like it’s you catching him. He just can’t help himself. He jumps at you before you even get a chance to do the same.

His arms go around your shoulders in the biggest hug imaginable. He knows better than to throw his whole body weight on you, so he settles for merely hugging and swaying your body from side to side

It’s sickeningly sweet how giddy he is. He pulls you at arms length before peppering light kisses along your cheeks

“I missed you so much! Can I have another one? Please?”

Oh! A test? How fun! He’ll take this one many times if it means you’ll hug him more often. He passed? Yippieeeeeee

Jamil Viper

Catches you, begrudgingly. He’s known about the trend and was frankly expecting you to try it. He just didn’t know when.

Jamil is no fool. He could let you fall. It would be funny. Maybe even make his day.

But then you’d be upset with him. He really could do without that. Not if it could be prevented

So the moment he sees you rushing towards him, Jamil knows what to do. He quickly sets down whatever he’s doing and takes position

With an oof and a momentary scowl from discomfort, he’s got ya. One arm around you’re bum and the other your waist. You wrap both of your arms around his shoulders, and with a sigh he just lets you koala hang for a moment

“Are we done now? Not to be rude, but my arms are tired and I would prefer that we not make a spectacle of ourselves”

He asks if you had fun. You did? Well, he supposes that it can be done again. In private only though. No more pranks.

Pomefiore Dorm

Vil Schoenheit

Does not catch you on purpose, and then insists that you do it again.

You see, he did not want to encourage your childish antics, so he purposefully pretended that he was not strong enough to catch you

A lie, obviously. He is very strong despite his pretty boy exterior. Instead of calling him out for it, you play along. A mocking sigh of resignation flies out as you not so subtly comment on his lack of strength.

Oh, you're absolutely right, Vil! I'm sorry for over estimating you...hmm, perhaps I can try again with Neige-

"You will do no such thing. Now, I am going to walk away and once I turn the corner you are going to run at me. Is that clear?"

Epel Felmeir

Catches you! Listen. My boy here spent his entire childhood lugging around crates of apples, cutting down trees, and running through fields. There is no way that he lacks the stamina to catch you. Maybe he can't hold you for an extended period, but those cinnamon stick arms are built for catching

He jolts when you scream his name, and he loses his composure. The moment you jump he lets out a string of curses and drops everything to catch you

The impact sends Epel teetering, and he fall son his butt with you on top of him

"O-o-oi! What'd ya think you're doing?! I nearly split my tailbone!"

Is slightly saddened that he couldn't keep steady. If only he was stronger like the Savanaclaw students...

Rook Hunt

Catches you with grace. There isn't much to say here.

Our princely hunter need not predict your movements, or pay attention to your plotting. Where's the fun in that?

Non non, what a sight for sore eyes. Rook swoons the moment you call his name, and his pupils basically turn to hearts when he sees you running towards him

With a laugh, he opens his arms wide and catches you in an instant. He shifts you into a bridal carry, and dips you down to plant a loving hiss on your nose.

Bonus points if you kiss him back along where his freckles would be without makeup. Oh this man is dying

"Mon coheur....what a wonderful surprise! If you were to greet me like this every day for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man indeed,"

Ignihyde Dorm

Idia Shroud

Catches you

On accident :)

More like you just fall in his lap, but it still counts? Kind of

He was in his room, multitasking both controlling his floating tablet around school while also playing the latest MMO

Just when he started to wonder where you might be (normally you find his tablet during study break) he hears his door burst open

Startled, he whips around in his chair to see you running at him. He lets go of the computer mouse and keyboard on impulse. Right when you jump and basically straddle him in his chair

Idia.exe has stopped working. From the sudden entrance, to the physical contact, to your giddy rambling about...something? He can't hear past the buzzing in his ears and just nods along

Hyper aware that you are sitting in his lap still. Attempting to control himself...and failing.

"U-uhhh, can y-you please move? Like, off of me? I c-can get you a chair,"

You comply, and he calms down for a second. He's not complaining but why would you -

an internet trend? Ortho told you to?

....Idia doesn't know if he should thank his brother or scold him.

Ortho Shroud (PLATONIC!)

Little Ortho meets you half way! You do not get to jump because he sees your arms open for a hug and does not waste a moment

With you basically being one of his best friends (and hopefully second sibling. Ortho is rooting for his big bro to win your heart!) he loves your hugs

When you ruffle his hair after letting go, his eyes crinkle into the cutest little upturned crescents and he laughs

"You know...I bet brother would love one of your hugs! You should go surprise him!"

Diasomnia Dorm

Malleus Draconia

Child of man, what a wonderful surprise?

You are fulfilling this man's fantasy. You know the phrase 'looking through rose-colored class'?

You're running towards him and he's watching like it's an early 2000s AMV on Youtube

Or like a Tik Tok edit. You know the ones

Drops everything. AND I MEAN EVERYTHING

It is like this man loses all sense of his surroundings. Lovesick fool.

Opens his arms wide with a soft smile, and when you jump he barely flinches. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and legs around his waist. One of his arms holds the small of your back, and the other your rear. He...well, yes he is aware and is doing it on purpose. Our prince isn't uhm...well, he is a man. A gentlemen, but still a man nonetheless.

"What a welcome greeting. Are you comfortable? I would like to remain this way for longer, if you do not mind"

He holds you tight with his head comfortably buried in between your neck and shoulder. Malleus lightly kisses the fabric of your uniform blazer, before returning to his prior activities like nothing is amiss

Lilia Vanrouge

...I guess? It's complicated.

You come at this bat from behind in an attempt to surprise him

He's not that old, y'know. Lilia senses you trailing him the moment you begin. Then again, he always knows when you're within a five mile radius.

What? Is it really so bad for him to seek out the object of his affections? Anyone else would do the same. It's not like he's being a creep about it...you just have a unique presence.

He is also well versed in internet trends. Lilia can't help but humor you. He walks around unknowing and occasionally snickering. Some question what he finds so humorous, and he waves them off with a cheeky grin

He senses your intent to attack, and doesn't turn around when you call his name. You jump at him from behind and koala hug his back

If it weren't for the hands holding your calves, you'd think him ignorant.

'Lilia? Lilia~ Hello? Are you already deaf so soon-'

Faster than you can comprehend, he spins you around to face him and pecks your lips

"Why hello there, my dear. Care to finish that sentence?"

'....no'

Sebeck Zigvolt

Does not catch you. He initially thought you were aiming for Malleus, and stood in front of his superior to protect him

Oh he should have known! Betrayal! You have betrayed him!

...why are you calling his name? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?

Oh seven it's one of your pranks again, isn't it? Whya re you always doing such-

When you yell for him to catch you, Sebeck does so without a second thought

but he fails. His offensive stance wasn't fit for taking the imbalance of weight, and he couldn't get a stable grip on you

Gravity pulls him forwards on a path where his weight would crush you

So Sebeck quickly wraps one of his hands around the back of your head, and flips so he takes the impact instead

"Have you gone mad?! I genuinely cannot fathom what is going on in your brain anymore. Who put you up to this? What if you had been injured? What if you injured Lord Malleus?....stop laughing and listen to me!"

Silver

Do not startle a man with a sword.

Once again, do NOT startle a man with a SWORD.

Silver catches you. Easily. He also thinks it is absolutely adorable that you trust him enough to do so.

It's just that you could have warned him. Y'know, considering that he is armed and trained to draw his weapon at the slightest sign of a threat :)

Lucky for you, Silver is high-key vigilant since he has a tendency to doze off to dreamland. He sensed your presence but couldn't pinpoint where...

Imagine his surprise when you jump down from above :) The hell do you think you are, his father?

On instinct he reaches out and catches you in a bridal carry. Your rear knocks against the sword hanging at his side, and with a grunt he places you down on the floor to check for injury

"While I love spending time with you, can you please use the door next time? For my sanity?"

[thebluester2020]

Minors Do Not Interact Plz

I usually write Elliot being an absolute munch on the farmer, but let's reverse the roles a little.

Imagine the reader being wayyy too good at sucking cock, specifically Elliot's. Like to the point where the man believes he should pay you for your skill at this point.

And he would've never expected it either, especially with how you were so sweet-hearted to everyone around you, goodness, he didn't even think you so much as cursed! You were the definition of an angel, both in attitude and looks. The very fact that you went out of your way to greet him every day, bring him gifts when you were able, and just in general brought an extra spark of happiness to his otherwise mundane lifestyle. It was a blessing, something to look forward to each time he rolled out of bed in the morning.

But...when you two finally started dating? And eventually, got to the stage where you two were beginning to become intimate with one another? You'd best believe that he was totally shocked (pleasantly so, of course) at your skill at sucking a man's dick, stealing the breath right from his lungs.

. . .

"O-Ohhhh Yoba...fuck..." Elliot whined, his hand tangling itself itself in his hair whilst his other one tangled in your hair as he was currently laying down on your bed. Lewd slurping noises could be heard from in between his thighs as you drooled all over his dick, a faint pink dusting your cheeks as you focused your tongue on his tip whilst your hands both stroked his cock and played with his balls.

You giggled, your voice sounding like a siren that had successfully captured its prey to the writer. "Y' enjoying this Elliot~?" You giggled before pressing a sloppy kiss to the underside of his cock. His cock twitched at the action, Elliot having to blink away tears of absolute ecstasy to focus his vision on you as he drowsily attempted to lift his head. "Y-Yeah—Yoba...o-oh fuck!" As soon as he confirmed his enjoyment of your treatment, your lips were back on him again. The taste of your lover's salty pre-cum addicting to your senses as you placed both of your hands on his thighs before you began to deep-throat him.

His toes curled as a loud cry left his swollen lips, reddened from his attempts to bite back his noises when you started earlier. "Y-Yoba...my love, y-you're—oh!" Tears of pleasure began to stream down his face in earnest when you began to hum around his length, slowly bobbing your head up and down as your spit began to trickle down to his balls, your earlier playing with them making them more sensitive as he felt them draw up to his body in a visible sign that he was close. Yet, he couldn't tell if he wanted to cum or not, your throat felt too good around his dick. To the point, it easily reduced him to tears and confused begging, a mixture of him wanting you to slow down so he could enjoy your mouth a little bit longer and begging for you to hurry up and make him cum!

"You're so cute Elliot~" You giggled, licking a long trail up the sensitive underside of his cock before you began to tease his tip with the tip of your finger. Pre-cum bubbled at the slit of his cock, dribbling down the side as his thighs twitched around you. He nearly came on the spot when he blinked away his tears to see you looking up at him through hooded eyes, the darkness of your pupils nearly taking over the color of your eye. "Y' wanna cum~?" You asked.

He nodded his head, his Adam's apple bobbing when he gulped.

You had a mind to tease him a little more with how honest he was being buuutttt...as you placed the palm of your hand against his tip and began to massage him, the shakey, drawn-out whine that tore from his throat was far more fun to hear. "M-My love—w-wait—"

"Wait?" You tilted your head incredulously. "But you just said you wanted to cum! Be a good boy and hold still, my feather." Your lips quickly returned to his cock as you began kissing down his shaft all the way until you reached his balls. The feeling of your hot mouth sucking his balls whilst the palm of your hand viciously massaged his leaking tip was almost too much to bear as Elliot threw his head back to let out a scream of pleasure. Untouched, you reached your orgasm as well as the combined sound of Elliot's whine and the sight of his cock twitching madly at his orgasm, your fluids leaking down your thighs.

When your husband began to weakly push at your hand however, whining in overstimulation. You immediately stopped with a smirk.

There was nothing more pleasing to the eye than seeing your usually composed husband flushed and panting like a dog in heat, all because you tended to his cock!

[randombush3]

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is. 

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on. 

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about. 

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in. 

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’. 

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky. 

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift. 

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’? 

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too. 

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool. 

“Mama, tired.” 

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.” 

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound. 

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.) 

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract. 

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it. 

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA. 

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now. 

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this. 

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail. 

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant. 

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked? 

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed. 

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it. 

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.” 

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough. 

You, alone, are not enough for her. 

You can’t do this. 

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you. 

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.” 

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong. 

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.” 

“Is she hurt?” 

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.” 

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?” 

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.” 

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.” 

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated. 

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.” 

“Usually?” 

You pale. 

“Usually, Alexia?” 

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?” 

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.” 

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.” 

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone. 

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.” 

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice. 

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper. 

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep. 

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of. 

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?” 

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back. 

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.” 

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.” 

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.” 

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier. 

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure. 

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak. 

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place. 

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault. 

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!” 

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia. 

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks. 

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed. 

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart. 

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome. 

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option. 

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day. 

And you are reminded of your unopened gift. 

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries. 

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing. 

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done. 

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper. 

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows. 

Eleven digits. 

Your old phone number. 

You remember this. 

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to. 

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure. 

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it. 

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes. 

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening. 

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass. 

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly. 

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’. 

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else. 

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you. 

(to get back to the main post)

[mustainegf]

can you write a dave mustaine smut with rockstar reader who's band is a rival of Megadeth? maybe with some back and forth degradation and them fighting for the top position (your choice on who ended up being the bottom).

then them seeing a rumor abt them on the press days later🤭

THANK YOU I LOVE YOU SOSOSOSOSO MUCH MARRY ME PLS

YES ILL MARRY YOU!??? THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST REQS IVE GOTTEN I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING!!!

The pulsating bass of the music throbbed through the walls, mingling with the laughter and shouts that filled the air.

The party was loud, a chaotic jumble of rockstars, groupies, and industry insiders.

The elite of the metal world were all gathered under one roof, the tension between rival bands almost unbearable.

I scanned the crowded room, my sharp eyes taking in the scene. As the lead guitarist of a thrash band, I’d learned to read a room quickly.

"Look who decided to grace us with her presence," a low, sardonic voice drawled from behind me. I turned, already knowing who it was.

Dave Mustaine.

The notorious frontman of Megadeth stood there, a smirk playing on his lips. His fiery red hair was a stark contrast to the dim lighting, and his piercing caramel eyes bore into mine with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

Dave and I never got along, not completely at least. He could switch on a dime from sweet to salty and it seems he’s made his pick for the night.

"Mustaine," I greeted coolly, my tone icy enough to rival his.

"Surprised you could tear yourself away from your little fan club," he remarked, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling back on me.

My eyes narrowed. "And I'm surprised you could tear yourself away from your ego."

Dave chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that settled in my stomach. "Still got that razor-sharp tongue, I see. Just like on stage."

"Someone's got to keep you in check," I shot back, my heart pounding despite my steady voice. The air between us crackled with animosity and something else.. something darker, more primal.

"Funny," Dave said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "I thought that was your job. Keeping the wannabes in check."

My jaw clenched. "Watch it, Mustaine. You're not as untouchable as you think."

"Is that a threat?" he asked, his voice dropping lower, challenging.

I met his gaze head-on, the tension between us tightening like a coiled spring. "It's a promise."

He glared, a flicker of desire masked behind his eyes. I could hardly get a chance to continue before he had his large calloused hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging me along with him.

I glanced at the surrounding area, wondering where we were going. A bathroom. We were heading toward a small private restroom, the door already shut behind us. I didn't have time to prepare myself.

The restrooms here were like small rooms, private once you got inside. And I knew this was going to work in our favour.

Dave glared down at me, his hands pressing on either side of the wall by my head. He leaned over me, leaving me in his shadow.

"You better be careful. I don't take kindly to threats," he warned, his eyes blazing with heat.

"And I won't hesitate to prove it." I smirked, uncaring about his warning. In fact, I dared him to try. "I told you it was a promise, not a threat," I grinned.

He scowled at me, his eyes flashing with anger. He stepped back, giving me some breathing room.

"We'll see who's laughing at the end of this," he growled, his words like a promise.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not caring what happened next. "Do it then," I taunted, pushing him to make his move. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing my every move.

He was trying to gauge my reactions, figuring out what made me tick. I met his gaze head-on, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes flashed with a flare of desire.

Dave wasted no time, shoving his lips onto mine, his fingers working at pulling my shirt off.

He tore the fabric off of me, leaving my laced bra and boobs in his attention. "Think you're so much better than me? Huh?" Dave growled, harshly gripping my breasts before unhooking my bra and tossing it into the corner.

I smirked at him, my eyes flashing with challenge.

I could feel his eyes roaming over me, taking in my body. It felt like he was assessing me, trying to figure out how to handle me.

"I don't think I'm better than you," I whispered, giving him a soft peck before finishing. "I know I am."

Dave's eyes flashed with anger, but he couldn't hide the lust in them. "You're nothing more than a pretty face."

Dave gave up unbottoning his shirt, leaving it down to his stomach before he was tugging at his jeans.

"Let's see how pretty your face is when I'm done with you," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"How does that sound?" I took a step back, not bothering to hide the lust in my eyes.

"Lets see if you can hold up," I gave him a pout, kicking off my pants whilre watching him angrily tug down his jeans and boxers.

He stood before me, all arrogant confidence, a sight that never failed to turn me on. I smiled to myself, staring at his cock for the first time.

"Take your panties off, slut.." he groaned, standing over me as I stripped my final layer for him.

Ilooked down as his hand gently teased his length, massaging his precum into the tip.

My eyes rose back up to meet his as he smirked at me. "Go ahead, pretty boy... Play with yourself," I chuckled.

Dave glared at this, eyeing me down. "Don't you get smart with me," he snapped slightly, leaning closer.

"Or I'll show you what happens when you do." I raised a brow at him, feigning innocence. I knew he would cave soon enough.

"You want to play rough, then I can definitely do that," I said slowly, running my finger across my nipple, circling it. "Such a slut."

he muttered, his eyes flashing with lust. Dave grabbed me suddenly, holding me close against the wall. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. My core shuddered at being this close to his throbbing cock.

I wanted to taste him, feel him, have him. My hands ran up his chest, feeling the muscles flex under my touch. Dave stared at me, his eyes hard and intense.

"You're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" He held me by the hips, his other hand massaging my breast.

"Yes," I answered honestly, biting my lip slightly, and I could see his pupils dilate at my response.

"That's what I thought," he rumbled. I shivered at his words, loving that he had taken charge.

I was becoming needier for him, I was practically dripping.

I nodded eagerly, looking up at him through my lashes. "Take me," I whispered, my voice trembling. Dave's eyes darkened.

"I think you should say please," he said, his voice husky with need. "Please, take me," I repeated, making sure I spoke the word clearly. Dave smiled smugly. I felt inferior knowing he had beat me to dominance.

It only took seconds before Dave and lined himself with me, slipping his full length into me with a swift pump.

I gasped as he filled me, my body quivering from the force of his thrusts. He grunted with each one, using his hand to keep my hips in place, holding me firmly against him and the cold tile wall.

"Yeah," he grunted, his eyes darkening. "So good.

So wet for me, slut." I moaned, lost in the sensations. This man knew exactly what he was doing. He was taking control. He was showing me how much better he was.

"Look at you, all fucked out and I've hardly been inside you for a minute." Dave heaved, staring at me with an evil smirk. "Still think you're better than me?" He snipped.

I smirked back at him. I was a little breathless, but I managed to get out, "No," I whispered, my eyes meeting his, my smile growing wider. "Never," I said as I moved my hips to match his, adding to his thrusts.

I knew he would never ever let me live it down, but in the moment I couldn't care less.

All I cared about was how perfect he felt inside me, every vein teasing my gummy walls. Dave growled, matching my movements. He reached up to kiss me again, his hand moving down to massage my clit as he did.

"Fuck! Fuck!" he cursed, the veins bulging along his neck. He slammed home, hissing out another curse. I felt his cock throb deep within me, his hot cum filling me.

Dave didnt stop though, he continued pumping, he knew I hadn't cum yet. Something about that turned me on.

"Cum for me, do it..." he grunted, burying his face in my neck. His cum slipped out of me as he thrusted.

"So desperate aren't you?" I teased, watching his face which was contorted in sexual frustration.

"Fuck," he swore, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. I laughed at the way he was acting. He might have been the best thing I ever laid my eyes on.

"Dave, mmm right there... I'm so close, baby.." I whined, running my fingers through his long curly hair. Never once did I think I'd ever call Dave Mustaine "baby" while he held me and fucked me loose.

But in this moment, I felt like the world had shifted. Everything made sense. "Cum for me, beautiful," he urged, his eyes boring into mine, daring me to cum.

"Yesss!" I yelled, twitched as I came all over him.

I heard him groan, and I saw him go still. "Wow," I sighed, smiling contentedly. Dave looked at me as if he didn't know whether to be angry or pleased.

He cleared his throat. "Well that was unexpected." I snickered. "Shh," I hushed him, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I trailed my fingertips over his arms, and his chest.

"This doesn't change anything.." Dave huffed. But the way he cuddled into me said different.

I gazed into those sharp eyes of his, realizing how pretty they were. "You sure?" I asked with a smirk.

Dave's expression hardened for a moment, a flicker of the defiance I was so familiar with.

He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He muttered.

I leaned into his touch, the lingering heat between us impossible to ignore.

A few days later, the tabloids were ablaze with rumors. Headlines screamed about Dave and I.

The metal world was in a frenzy, fans and critics alike speculating about what this meant for our bands.

"Enemies in Public, Lovers in Private?"

Part of me was annoyed. The last thing I needed was the press dissecting my personal life. But another part of me-the part that thrived on chaos and defiance-kind of liked it. The whole thing felt taboo, forbidden. It was a secret thrill that I couldn't quite shake.

Truth was, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Dave. The way his hands had felt on my skin, the rough passion of our encounter. I wanted more. The thought of it made my heart race, a mix of excitement and danger. I wondered if maybe the fiery frontman would be willing to see me again.

[oddballwriter]

💳💥💳💥💳 THE SYSTEM WITH A METALHEAD I BEG OF YOU!! ( if comfy ofc )

Like short 5'2-5'3 reader who looks SCARY as shit and wears all black+tatted but is super cutesy until someone says the wrong shit and they get absolutely insane?

feel like steven would be like raging heart eyes

( maybe smutty maybe not either wayyy..)

- 🌑

Steven Grant

Steven was scared of you at first, that's for sure. The all black and scary look definitely worked on him

It wouldn't be until you approached him that he realized you weren't going to bite him

He finds the difference between the two of you funny, positively.

To me, he seems more like a listener of ABBA and The B-52, those kind of older songs that are more up beat. Something that some suburban dad definitely has on vinyl

I firmly believe that Steven fucking loves the B-52s for some reason, he just has those vibes

Softer type of music, you know? Definitely not metal

But he does enjoy that you're kind and really nice rather than acting the part of how you look

But the one time when you two were out and someone insulted you both and you proceeded to yell at them and cuss them out was a day that he thinks about a lot. You weren't even yelling at them for insulting you, you just tore them a new one because they insulted him

He felt something that day, and he's not saying that he wants you to yell at him, but if you bossed him around a little then he's going to do it with a tent in his pants

He's too embarrassed to admit that but it's defiantly something that's there and you'll catch on someday

Back to the actual topic though, Steven doesn't like metal but he supports you liking it since it makes you happy

Would attend a concert with you but he'd have ear plugs in so that the music doesn't hurt his ears or stress him out

Also, you will have to leave him in the back because he's not going in the mosh pit, he would not survive. I'm sorry but he's not built for that

Marc Spector

Okay, Marc doesn't really listen to metal, he's not an avid metal listener. But I'm sure he's listened to a few songs and knows the more mainstream bands

He thinks you're cool though. Similar to my HCs for them with a goth partner, he finds it fascinating how you don't care how people perceive you and just be yourself. You're happy and he uses that as inspiration to be himself too

Marc would listen to metal music with you if it comes up, maybe you expand his knowledge of the genre

Do I think he'd handle a mosh pit? No, I think it would stress him out too much. Too much is happening and it freaks him out. Loves seeing you having fun though so go mosh for him

Marc also respects the fact that you're still polite and not true to how people think you would be, but 100% if you tell someone off then he's all for it. You tell 'em!

Since I went on a whole side tangent on Steven's music tastes, it's only right I do it for Marc

Marc sort of shares the same taste as Steven where he listens to songs that were around when they were younger. He's a classics kind of guy. He likes it when he hears people from back then on the radio

This man refuses to leave the 80's and 90's music scene. You will have to pry it from him in the field of reeds

Jake Lockley

Jake is such a "I love all genres" guy, he listens to everything and finds something to like in it. Even country, yeah sure modern country sucks but older ones are the ones he talks about when e talks about country music

So yeah, Jake definitely likes metal and can get into it. So feel free to play it around him

He also thinks you're cool and loves your whole look. Buys a shirt to match

100% would love to see you tear someone a new one so long as they deserve it. This man is an enabler, he's in the back cheering you on

Also, if you ask him to go to a concert with you, he will say yes so fast

Jake would survive the mosh pit, he would thrive

It lets him let out some stuff that he's been holding back and energy that he can't really put anywhere else

Honestly Jake would be so clearly into your whole metalhead life. He thinks it's hot. He finds it sexy. There's something about the loud music and look that does something for him and he's not going to hide that

Honestly, yell at him in bed, it'll be good foreplay if you're down

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronancetober, day five. Back to pure fluff. Auntsy-verse. Another short one, feat. Robin Harrington, teen Nancy’s poor choices in decor, and Milk Duds as consolation.

Prompt: Action Movie

They’re in the theatre for Inception, a large popcorn in Robin’s lap where she sits between her aunts. Robin has Milk Duds and Nancy has M&Ms and they all have sodas the size of their heads, as is their summer tradition.

All of Steve’s kids come to Aunt Camp for a weekend, usually more, cascading so that there are various combinations of little Harringtons in the house but always also at least a little one-on-one time. When the oldest Harrington called in the middle of her first year college exams to ask if she could still come to Aunt Camp, halfway to tears and underslept, they’d made it very clear that they wanted her to come forever, that there was no age limit.

Now she’s finished with her sophomore year and talking with Robin about her fall internship, Robin very engaged and also occasionally throwing Milk Duds at her niece’s mouth. Little Robin catches them, pausing easily and smiling as she chews, because they are alike in that way.

They’re early, because Nancy’s niece is like her in this way, and Nancy sips her Coke while she listens and asks questions, and quietly applauds a particularly impressive catch. She also plucks two Milk Duds from Robin’s hair.

It’s just the three of them in the theatre, matinee on a movie that’s been out for a month, so when the preview for Mission Impossible 4 comes on, little Robin doesn’t bother hiding her groan, booing at the screen.

“God, when are they gonna stop making these? That guy’s the worst.”

Nancy knows it’s coming before Robin says a word, sighs loudly as, right on cue, her partner says, “You know Nance had a poster of him on her wall.”

“Oh my god!” Little Robin’s staring at her, delighted horror in the light of the movie screen, and her namesake grins at Nancy from over her shoulder. “Auntsy.” She gestures at the screen, where Tom Cruise is looking very serious. Something blows up. “Him?”

“Yes, him, thank you very much. It was the 80s. Risky Business was very popular.”

“Was it a Risky Business poster, Nance?”

Nancy cuts her eyes at Robin, arches a brow, but she’s smiling, happy to play, happy to be far, far away from the life where she tore Tom Cruise from Teen Beat and taped him to her wall.

Little Robin laughs, still delighted. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Leah’s gonna lose it.”

“It was twenty-five years ago. There were some things I didn’t understand about myself at the time,” she points out, reaching across and stealing the Milk Duds unrepentantly, ignoring Robin’s squawk. “And I thought you went to Carleton. Don’t you know about compulsory heterosexuality? Where do you have to send a kid to get liberal brainwashing done right these days?”

Little Robin waves her hand dismissively and Nancy sees her at six and sixteen and twenty all at once. “Oh, please. You’re, like, disgustingly happy with R1 and your gay little garden. You’ve got a signed panel of Dykes to Watch Out For framed on your wall. You’re driving to Ann Arbor to see Brandi Carlile in two weeks.”

“Dial it back there, Franklin Graham,” Robin says with a laugh.

Little Robin rolls her eyes. “Still not over the fact that you’re going without me, by the way. Anyway, nice try with the comphet Auntsy, but I get to make fun of you for having a Tom Cruise poster. And so does Leah. And also probably everyone else. Does my mom know?”

Nancy sits forward to make eye contact with her partner, does not offer to return the Milk Duds. “You know it’s going to be your fault when all we get for Christmas this year is Tom Cruise paraphernalia.”

Robin shrugs, grinning, and she’s very handsome, and Nancy shakes a Milk Dud into her palm and eats it with malice. Lips twitching in amusement, Robin brings her hand to her heart in false mourning, and Nancy shakes her head and sits back.

Little Robin is squinting in Robin’s direction, tilting her head.

“Hello?” Robin says. “Big Bird, do you copy?”

“You know…” Little Robin’s voice is thoughtful but there’s an undertone to it that Nancy knows well. “Young Tom Cruise. R1 with her 1998 hair. I can see the resemblance.”

Nancy barks a laugh, Robin making a sound of indignation.

“Excuse me?!”

Little Robin shrugs, sits back and focuses on the popcorn, grinning to herself. She knows what she’s done. Nancy loves her, the little shit.

Nancy offers the Milk Duds back to Robin, who takes them with a pout. They are a consolation and she knows it, chews one sadly.

“I don’t look like Tom Cruise,” she half-asks, and Nancy loves her, too.

“Of course not, baby.” She uses her best patronizing voice, smiles into her straw at little Robin’s snort.

“Nance! Nancy Wheeler. I do not look like Tom Cruise.”

“Shhh,” Nancy says. “It’s starting.”

“You’re both very mean to me.”

Two nights later, little Robin gone back to her parents, Robin appears in the door of Nancy’s home office in a button-down and crew socks, candlestick in hand.

“Oh my god,” Nancy laughs, out of her chair and in Robin’s space immediately. “Where the hell did you get that candlestick?”

“Thrift store,” she says proudly, Nancy’s hands already working at the buttons of her shirt. “The very nice woman at the checkout confirmed that I do not look like Tom Cruise.”

“Don’t talk to me about Tom Cruise while I’m trying to fuck you,” Nancy says, smiling into the skin of Robin’s neck.

“Copy that. Should I get a flight suit, though?”

Nancy finishes with the last button, lets her teeth graze Robin’s skin, and does not answer the question.

[wexhappyxfew]

what about feral bucky for the prompt: “If you even THINK about touching him/her/them, I’ll kill you.”? there's no way he isn't crazy protective like that

HI FRIEND!!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for sending this prompt in because i in fact couldn't help myself with protective/feral bucky who is heavily prevalent throughout the entire piece. protective bucky gives me OXYGEN and it seems to do a little something to kennedy, too. i definitely took an angstier route with this, but i had fun crafting this and molding some of the deeper discussions, so PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!! kennedy x bucky enjoyers -- please enjoy this treat!!! :D

you worrying about me?

(a/n): hi friends!! we have a kennedy-focused prompt with hints of kennedy x bucky and our good navigator friend, bessie carlisle :) we get into some darker themes here but nothing is talked about in detail. mostly just for in terms of writing the actual prompt. AND -- we have the symbolism of upside down roses here and i found out they can mean 'rebellion' and no doubt, they are referenced here. so please enjoy!! :D

"'Morning."

Kennedy looked up, her eyes flashing to the pair that was sitting down across from her, sleepy and half-awake.

Bucky Egan had never seemed like much of a morning person to her but it was her second morning here (to which she was waking at 0500 at this point from fear and nightmares) and he was yet again sitting across from her as the sun rose outside, the pinks, blues and oranges beginning to careen across the cold horizon and black silhouetted trees.

"Hey." Kennedy whispered, curling the blanket further around her body on the bench, "Sleep well?" Bucky settled and leaned up against the table, ruffling a hand up in his hair that was in 10 different directions from sleep, and he let out a sigh.

"Okay." he said with a nod, looking to her gaze and clenching his jaw, "Yourself?"

"Okay." she told him with a shrug and he quirked his head sideways at her and lifted the corner of his lip, "What's that look for?"

"Okay?"

"I mean, half of you snore and being alone in the middle of Germany for a week isn't exactly the most comforting thing to put you to sleep. So." Kennedy said quietly, "Okay. Not the best." Bucky watched her in the stillness of the dark morning and slowly nodded.

"What happened out there?" he asked her, voice low.

"Where?" She was almost defensive in her question, building up her walls, locking the doors, hiding away. She always did this. Her brain couldn't do. Get her thoughts out. In front of him.

"Germany. Few days ago." Bucky asked her, voice low, nodding at her, "Something happened."

"Nothing happened." Kennedy shot back, suddenly feeling guilty at the defensive stance she'd taken.

This was Bucky.

Bucky Egan.

He was just looking out for her safety.

All the guys were.

As the only one of the Silver Bullets girls to have shown out of the four that had bailed-out, they took on the protective forefront stance almost immediately.

"Sorry."

Bucky waved her off, clearly not perturbed by her small moment of bitterness.

"Can't blame you," he said, leaning forward again against the table and looking over at her with a small smile, "had a German breathing down my neck, pulling me outta some river. Walked through a town, attacked by civilians. Thrown on the back of a truck like dead meat." Bucky stared at her. "It's fucking sick." Kennedy watched him and clenched her jaw, a sudden yearn to hold him overtaking her.

"You got attacked?" she managed out, the thought of Bucky, a Major in the USAAF, being led by Germans through a town and freely attacked because he was now a prisoner. And they just let it happen; and he no doubt fought back helplessly. The thought tore at her heart a bit.

"With knives and pitchforks." he said with a grimace of a grin, "Real medieval, huh?"

"Were you okay?" she asked him, eyeing that bruise underneath his eye, that scar along his brow, that look in his eye, her cheeks flushing, "I mean, obviously, you're sitting here but…"

"You worrying about me, Farley?" he asked her quietly, but not in a really sarcastic or teasing way.

No. He was looking at her desperately; achingly. No, he was genuinely asking her, staring at her in such a purposeful way that she was sure if she hadn't just woken up she'd be much more aware of the way he was looking at her and what he was saying.

"Uh, yeah." she answered, staring at him, "I was your waist gunner. I'm not a stiff exactly. I have some level of emotional awareness about myself." The corner of Bucky's lip grew upward as he watched her. "What?"

"It's just me, Farley." he said quietly, regarding her with a look that seemed far from what it meant to just look at someone normally, "What happened out there?"

Kennedy watched him that morning in the darkness of the dawn, swallowing uncomfortably as her palms slick with sweat, her forehead dotted with perspiration suddenly. She looked to Bucky.

"Just….stuff I don't really want to think about, to be quite honest." she said quietly with a nod, before stiffening up, "Did they interrogate you, too?" Bucky seemed to grow still at her words, his eyes glazing over in a way that made her brain stutter and her mouth part the slightest bit. Evidently, they had.

"Yeah." Bucky said - quick and short, "They did." She grew quiet.

"What'd they ask you?" Bucky asked her next, seeming to fill in the question in her mind that she wanted to ask him. She pulled the blanket up more around her shoulders and sighed a bit, looking down at the table where her half-empty canteen was sat. She needed to do something with her hands, she couldn't just sit here and let what was going on in her mind takeover. She grabbed the canteen and took a shaky sip and looked towards Bucky again. He was looking at her suddenly more worried than he had been previously, his brow furrowed and narrowed all at once, leaning more across the table, watching her like she had just mentioned something that had upset her.

"Shit I didn't feel like talking about." Kennedy said quietly this time, "About Captain Faulkner. Lieutenant Bradshaw. Silver Bullets." Kennedy clenched her jaw, and felt the grip on the canteen tighten, hand growing numb as she reached up to swipe her ginger hair behind each of her eyes with her free hand. Bucky watched her with that persistent look.

"I didn't say a goddamn word though." Kennedy said, her voice dripping cold, "You should've seen the way they were looking at me. Like I was a fucking pile of clothes on the ground. It was pathetic." Bucky clenched his jaw, unflinchingly watching her gaze still.

"I told them I was a Lieutenant, you know?" Kennedy said quietly, "They never addressed me as such, just my name." Kennedy shivered. She remembered the aching of her body as she was led inside that room, sat in that chair, with two Germans on either side of her, gripping her biceps until her skin was screaming. The interrogator staring her down, watching her like she was nothing, tilting his head and smiling stiffly. 'Tell me about your time with the USAAF.' As if they thought she was letting them kill her here, like this was the end of the road for her. Were they sorely mistaken. 'Might I inquire about a certain Captain B. Faulkner - KIA? And a current Lieutenant A. Bradshaw? MIA?' Kennedy shut her eyes.

"Kennedy Farley. Lieutenant. O-499716." Kennedy said quietly, "Over and over." Kennedy's eyes looked to his.

"They knew where I was born, where I lived. My parents' names." Kennedy said, her voice shallow, as she stared at him, willing that in some way he would just shut her up so she could stop thinking about this.

"Kenny-"

"Boston, Massachusetts. Born to Belinda and Andrew Farley. Only daughter-"

"Kennedy." Kennedy snapped her mouth shut, her eyes meeting his again. Someone was shifting in their bunk, there was more orange infiltrating the sky behind Bucky's head outside of the windowpane and there was a distance ringing somewhere past the building.

"You hear that?" Bucky asked her. Kennedy slowly nodded, feeling catapulted back to when she had first entered the camp - stumbling in, limping, her bum leg somewhere behind her, as she frantically, in silent prayer, willed for someone from the 100th to step in front of her and tell her it was going to be okay. She remembered that ringing - almost like the bell in the B-17 to bail - she remembered the ringing of the entrance alarm that went off when new POWs were brought in. It rung around in her head like a free bird, instead trapped in a cage, with every touch a reminder of the sound of that bell.

"New POWs?" Kennedy said, her voice distant, "At 0530 in the morning?" Bucky stared at her.

"I'm going." she said, standing to her feet, pulling the blanket off, being careful to step past some of the creaky floorboards that littered the place (and no doubt by now, between the two of them, others would no doubt be waking up), but she tried her best to stay quiet.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky said and she heard him stand up from the table and come up behind her, "No way you're going alone." Kennedy looked over her shoulder in the threshold of the room and watched Bucky in the illuminated darkness and caught his gaze.

There was something about this morning that felt different about the Bucky Egan that was standing here now - with the way he was looking at her, the way he was standing so close to her side that she was sure if she tripped he'd be there to reach out and hold her up. If she reached out, she could nearly brush her finger across the palm of his hand. Kennedy blinked.

"Thanks." she said, a little breathless, then managed a small smile, "My knight in shining armor." Bucky grinned almost immediately at that, like a dog who had just been tossed a bone. He chuckled.

"Highest honors from Lieutenant Farley herself." he said, and her heart skipped a beat.

Even if it was just the littlest things - hearing Lieutenant Farley from his lips showed her one thing.

Even in her ramblings, he'd been listening.

And Bucky Egan hardly seemed to be a listener - he talked.

A lot.

But knowing he listened to what she had said?

Kennedy's heart pounded inside her chest as they stepped into the hallway, that ringing alarm still going outside, Bucky shutting the door behind them. They walked side by side, Bucky's presence something she would always feel comforted by. He was so…..large. In more ways than one. In height, his broad shoulders - God, what she'd give to hug him and bury her face away in his being.

Kennedy realized she was in fact standing there, thinking about his bare, broad shoulders was something she would've apologized to God about back home. But in a shit hole like this, small mercies were all they had. And the idea of Bucky was one of those.

Stepping outside, the alarm bell was much louder and so was the cold. It was in her ears on the wind, all over her face and nose, making her shiver just at the contact and for a moment, she considered turning around and going inside.

But then, her heart stepped in. Annie, Margie or Bessie could be coming in at this very moment, terrified out of their minds. And Kennedy had felt that. And she didn't one a single one of them to have to feel what she felt.

Kennedy wanted to be right there to pull them out of the turmoil and the fear and the salty sea. She wanted to tell them that for now, they'd be okay.

Her and Bucky began trekking across the open area of dusty land towards the gates, side by side, their arms brushing each other with intermingled bits of warmth gathering between them as they did so, hands shoved deep in pockets, chins tucked down in A2 jackets, hair waving in the wind, noses red and eyes watery.

It was quite a miserable sight, along with Bucky's slightly bruised eye and the cut on her cheek. In a way, she felt better knowing she was going forward right now with Bucky right there beside her though.

"Hey….Kenny." Bucky said quietly from beside her, causing her to look upwards and catch his eyes in the early dawn, the colors reflecting in his dark brown orbs, the darkness of the night behind him, the morning in his hair and on his chapped lips, "They didn't try anything did they?" She could've guessed that the question was coming - it was war time and she was both a woman and the enemy. Kennedy watched him right back.

"No." she said quickly, "I would've broken their fucking finger if they tried, you know that."

"Good." Bucky said quietly, his voice tight and firm all at once - he seemed evidently pissed off as well. Not at her, but at the current unfolding changes of the time. Which she didn't entirely blame him for.

They both grew quiet as they neared the gates in the early morning, a few bits of sun rays peaking over the edge of the treetops now, reflecting off windowpanes, MP40s in German hands and barbed wire.

Everything was dull and dreary as they watched the new group of POWs enter inside. Aimlessly looking around, staggering on two things they called legs, uniforms scruffy, dirtied and covered in a mix of blood and mud, scars and bruises littering the exposed bits of skin, and their eyes soulless - long gone to what their current state of life was.

"You think they made it?" Bucky asked from beside her as Kennedy watched a few guys struggle by, holding up someone between them, groaning and grunting with exhaustion to keep him leveled and awake.

"They had to." Kennedy said quietly, "And I know that Annie Bradshaw. She wouldn't go down without a fight." She didn't have to look over at Bucky to know he was grinning. She heard him give a chuckle before her eyes caught on something in the midst of the group, her entire body stiffening, all her senses quickly growing alert. She couldn't control it - not even at 0530 in the morning, not even when she felt like death herself, not even with the level of exhaustion, fear and depletion she felt.

"Bessie!" Kennedy was yelling, shoving past Bucky suddenly at the sight of Silver Bullets' navigator, her heart soring in a way she hadn't felt in over a week - the sight of one of her own, of someone she'd been through everything with. Someone who had always been there.

"Bessie Carlisle!" Kennedy came tearing around the edge of the second set of gates, standing at the edge, cupping her hands around her mouth, "Bessie!"

There in the midst of the group, staggering and alone, was Lieutenant Bessie Carlisle - a horrendous split lip, a black and blue eye, scraps on her cheeks, her body wilting away, her form hunched, arms crossed in front of her chest in an attempt to hold herself up and her body barely moving properly as it was, it seemed.

Her pants were covered in dried blood, her boots caked in mud and her top was torn in various areas exposing bloody welts and skin underneath and no doubt her freezing body.

Kennedy didn't care if the Germans would lose it, if she was going against it all - roses upside down were for the thrill of it all. She pushed forward through the mobs of POWs entering the camp, moving around people, avoiding the zombie-like bodies that shuffled by.

And finally when she was in Bessie's line of sight, she stopped and watched as Bessie met her gaze, frozen there in the midst of the group.

"Kenny?" Bessie managed to whisper out, her voice hoarse - it sounded like she'd been crying and screaming, "Kenny is that you?" Kennedy's eyes welled with fresh tears, as she felt her face scrunch uncontrollably like a small child again.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Cry. Cry. Cry.

And Kennedy stepped forward, delicately pulling Bessie right into her arms. To be quite honest - they were both sobbing. Something about the fact that in all this world, the waist gunner and the navigator of Silver Bullets had found each other - because no doubt they had thought the others were dead. Long gone to the earth.

Holding Bessie there, who was always so strong, pleasant and happy to seeing her broken in Kennedy's arms made a swirl of anger, guilt and grief fill her insides and she couldn't do anything else but let the tears drip down her face as they held each other and cried.

"Move! Move! On!" a voice hollered from somewhere behind Bessie and suddenly, Kennedy felt herself falling backwards, the wind knocked out of her as she landed, back flat on the ground, Bessie curled on top of her and a German pilot officer standing over them, the muzzle of his MP40 hanging over them, his eyes dark, lifeless, his lips a thin frown, his cheeks entirely gaunt.

Kennedy watched in earnest as the German pilot officer nudged as Bessie's body - to which she flinched and it made Kennedy want to scream.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Kennedy snapped, immediately regretting it when the German turned his eyes onto her, sneering down at her with a look that made her want to dig 6 feet under. Kennedy had to look away from him - this wasn't happening, this wasn't happening. Get Bessie up. Get her moving. MOVE.

"Okay, Bes, we're gonna slowly stand, okay?" Kennedy said, sitting herself up and helping Bessie get to her feet, keeping the German in her peripheral, "Just try to keep yourself steady."

"Move! On!" the German snapped at her, shoving the muzzle against her back as Kennedy wrapped an arm around Bessie's back. Kennedy glanced back over her shoulder at the German and watched his eyes - he'd pull the trigger whenever he pleased. No matter who it was - his eyes told her plenty.

"GO." the German said, knocking the muzzle roughly against her back again and this time, before she could even open her mouth, another voice beat her to it.

"If you even THINK about touching them, I'll kill you." Kennedy looked over to see Bucky standing there, his hand batting down the MP40, "We're fucking moving." And before the German could get a word out, before Kennedy could focus on what was going on, Bucky had gone and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, fingers brushing Bessie's frail, bony ones, and began leading them away through the crowd.

Anger. Fear. Pain. Grief. Horror.

The only words to describe the numbness that flooded Kennedy as she willingly dragged along Bessie beside the frantic Bucky who looked close to losing his mind any minute. He moved at a pace that she could barely hold, neither could the voiceless Bessie and as they got out of the crowd, Kennedy had to pull at the lose flap of his A2.

"Bucky, you gotta slow down." she said, causing him to stop and look at her, anger simmering at every bit of him, his fists clenched, his eyes staring her down like he was almost still looking at the German, "Bessie can't walk that fast. She can barely walk."

Bucky's eyes flicked to Bessie, who was still achingly quiet beside her and then back to Kennedy. He was inches from her face - she could see the sweat dripping down his lightly stubbled cheek. Up close, you could see the anger rolling off him; she could almost see past it all though, through his eyes and into his very being. Beyond anything, he was tired - tired of war, tired of this, all of this.

"I'll take her other side," Bucky said quietly, his eyes bouncing off her lips and to her eyes again this time before he stepped past her, "c'mere, Bes."

Kennedy watched as Bucky lowered himself a bit to wrap Bessie's arm around his shoulder and they began walking. It was a slow amble to the barracks, Bessie making pained noises like a wounded animal the whole time, enough to skyrocket Kennedy's worry to an all-time high.

And by the time they had shuffled her inside the bunk room, a few people were awake, the lantern lights on and were swarming them like flies. Buck was there, helping Bessie to a cot with a blanket, Benny tumbling out of bed to get some water going, Hambone sitting beside her, rubbing his hands up and down her sides, Brady on her other side, a hand on her back, moving up and down in a slow, comforting motion.

Kennedy stood there beside a wordless Bucky, watching Bessie get the help she needed. Slowly, she turned to look up at Bucky, suddenly wanting nothing more than to find comfort in a place as nice as his eyes. And to see him already watching her in that way he always did, made her suck in a breath that felt choked and tight.

She flinched when she felt his fingers make contact with her own, goosebumps spanning the width of her arm and across her upper body as warmth filled the pit in her stomach. His fingers danced across her exposed wrist, before sliding down into her own fingers, his palm pressing into hers, his large hand encapsulating her own. All while watching her - slow and deliberate and meaningful.

Kennedy released that shaky breath, staring back at Bucky who refused to look away. For all the horror, all he could do was stare at her. And hold her hand. And all she could do was stare right back.

But then Bucky quirked up the corner of his lips and a sense of calm washed over her gently. Like things were okay. Like this was okay.

"You looked like you needed a hand." Bucky whispered, briefly leaning towards her, "Literally." He squeezed her hand, brushing his thumb across her calloused skin. Kennedy watched him and let a small grin pop onto her face.

"You know me better than myself sometimes." she whispered back. Bucky continued watching her, smiling that smile, staring at her with those eyes. She swore she saw a hint of heat on his cheeks, but shook her head with a laugh. She was half-focused on his face and half-focused on the brushing of his thumb, slow and sensual on her skin of the top of her hand.

"Hey Kennedy? You got a minute?" Buck asked, popping his head back from the bunk, "She's got a nasty cut on her leg. Figured it's best if you help her there." Kennedy looked at Buck, immediately stepping forward and dropping Bucky's hand, that ball of warmth faded to ice as she nodded - Bessie needed her.

"Of course." Kennedy said, before glancing back at Bucky, who was watching her with that look again. Bucky nodded to her.

And so when she turned to crouch in front of Bessie, feeling his eyes on her was like the moon watching the sun.

[theemporium]

hi!! i wanted to request an imagine with all the marauders doing stupid shit to try and compete for the new american transfer’s attention, and she’s extremely bold, sarcastic, and unbothered (bc i’m so tired of seeing y/ns who act like they’ve never had a single social interaction before 😭) and they have a like a bet going on to see who can get a yes from her first, oblivious to the fact that she’s dragging it out to watch them embarrass themselves more LMAO thank you so much 🙌🙌

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“You know they are doing all this to impress you, right?” 

You couldn’t help the way your lips twitched in amusement as you tore your eyes away from the sight in front of and instead turned to look at the redhead settled on the bench next to you. 

“Of course I do,” you answered with a playful scoff. “But who said I can’t have my own fun with it?” 

Lily snorted, a bashful but bold sound. “You’re driving them mad, babe.” 

“But it’s so funny to watch,” you said with a faux pout before you turned back to look at the boys. 

The second you walked through the doors of Hogwarts, the boys were absolutely besotted by you. Maybe it was the pretty smile or the gorgeous face or maybe it was the fact you had all but scoffed at some petty, pureblood wizards who tried introducing themselves to you and snorted when another tried to tell you off for breaking some silly little school rule within the first twenty-four hours since you stepped inside the castle. 

But from that second on, you had held the hearts of the school’s beloved marauders in your hand, for better or for worse. 

“What are they even trying to do this time?” Marlene asked as she approached the two of you, her hands braced on the bench as she tilted her head at the scene in front of her, trying to work out just what she was actually looking at. 

It wasn’t unusual for the boys to go out of their way to gain your attention, you had truly seen it all. From James whooshing past you on his broom after he scored in a quidditch match, calling out your name and honouring the goal to you, to Sirius dancing on the table top in the Great Hall to cheer you up as he serenade you with your favourite song, to Remus all but blurting out random little jokes during class to try and gain your attention. 

It was cute and it warmed your heart. Now, though, you were slightly worried their recent antic would end with the three boys in months’ worth of detention.

“I honestly don’t know,” you murmured honestly, your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the boys zip about. 

“Are those…muggle fireworks?” Lily murmured with a frown. 

“Muggle fireworks? How different are they to ours?” you asked, briefly glancing at the redhead. 

“Very different,” she snorted, shaking her head. “I didn’t think any of them knew how to set them off. It’s not like ours, it’s not a simple spell.” 

You tilted your head. “Is that why Sirius has his lighter?” 

“Probably, but you still have to—“ 

BOOM!

All eyes turned to look at the massive chunk that was now gone from a row of pillars leading out into the courtyard. And just as quickly as people sought out the chaos, their heads twisted around to find the boys standing there, sheepish and flustered at the lacklustre performance they just put on for you. 

“POTTER! BLACK! LUPIN!” 

You snorted as their eyes widened at McGonagall's voice booming through the whispers and hushed voices, all three of them scrambling to fix their mess. For the infamous marauders, they got quite sloppy when they were around you. 

“Better run, boys!” you called out to them, a massive grin on your face. “Wouldn’t want my favourite boys in detention.” 

“Your favourite boys?” Sirius repeated, a grin growing on his face. 

“You heard what I said, Black,” you retorted, watching as the boy only shook his head in amusement. 

“We won’t get detention, darling,” Remus assured you, a flush to his cheeks that made him look a little younger than usual, a lot more carefree too. 

“Good, we have a date on Saturday,” you called out casually. 

All three boys halted in their steps but it was James who spoke. 

“Which one?” he asked, something like a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

But your grin only widened. “Who said anything about only one of you?”

.

[arknights-imagines]

Tbh I was thinking of a scenario in my head about doktah (or U) being injured and Rico was taking care of U and U cupped his cheek and called him pretty, he was confused but flustered a bit (insert glitching computer sounds) anyway i luv u and anyone who’s reading this 😍

- 🐲 anon

Hiya there 🐲 anon! Tysm for your request (and I love you too sbsuwh 🥰!!)

I knew I wanted one of the first things I posted after being away for v long to be a request for Executor/'Rico, so your request was perfectly timed and I loved your idea lots aaa! It's v v cute and I feel it fits Executor/'Rico v well 🥺💕!!

I'm a li'l nervous since I feel I'm a bit rusty shiuhge 😭...! But, I had fun with this one and it feels good to be back aaa I hope I did Executor justice here 🙏

Anywho, to you and everyone else, I hope you all enjoy 🥰!!

Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:

@donsofwaste

@tiredstudents

@marahuyos

@vesvic

@cl3v-j

--------------------

Error

Imagine format; mostly in the perspective of the reader, written in second person!

Contains: Executor, gender-neutral Operator as the reader, acquaintances to crushes relationship lolojshd, mentions of things and references to lots of from Executor's archive files, minor injuries and violence, the reader is one of Rhodes Island's Elite Operators, the reader is a li'l bit of a flirt lololsjs, nameless and gender-neutral Doctor as a background character, humour, fluff 💕!

Word count: a little over 2.7k!

--------------------

All Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to work alongside and be dispatched on Operations with each other. Such was a simple fact, and an obvious one; of course it would be bizarre for Rhodes Island, with their policy of levelling all who they employ as equal and for not tolerating discrimination irrespective of one’s reasons, to restrict certain Operators from being assigned into Squads together.

The case of Executor, however, was unavoidably more complicated different.

While all Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to be sent into combat with Executor - that didn’t mean all Rhodes Island Operators were willing to be sent into combat with Executor.

When you had approached the Doctor regarding the subject before boarding the transport that was to take you to the site of your next Operation - you had been assigned to an Operation, along with a party of other Elite Operators that included the Sankta in question, that was a hostage-rescue in Columbia -, they looked off to where Executor was stood counting his ammunition nearby then shrugged.

You had tilted your head to the side and so the Doctor elaborated, “He’s more than capable of handling the perimeter of the Operation ite by himself, and besides, no one on the Squad was agreed to being deployed with him. It’s not unusual, considering his… reputation.” A lift of one of your eyebrows was paired with a puzzled mutter, “But, it’d still be better for him to have some sort of back up. And, what ‘reputation’? Do you mean how he has those people from the Engineering Department always flirting with him?”

It was the Doctor’s turn to tilt their head to the side now, before their voice left them slowly, “No, that’s not what I was-…” They paused, studying your facial features then shifting their gaze from you to Executor, “I was referring to other...things…”

Be it his direct completion of any combat task assigned to him, the immense amount of collateral damage left in nearly all of his mission sites, or that account from the deeply-fazed Operator who was deployed as his partner once, of how Executor barehandedly tore out the heart of a beast directly from its chest - that last one had soon become a Rhodes Island horror story, reimagining Executor as some form of a boogieman impersonating as a Sankta -, majority of Operators had an excuse as to why they would prefer not to be near the ever-composed Sankta during Operations.

The Doctor had long observed a pattern in your behaviour when near Executor, that was in stark contrast to everyone else; though his presence caused most to snap their back straight and tighten the line of their shoulders, your posture when with him instead was always eased with not even the slightest indicator of tension.

Perhaps then, there was one Operator willing to be sent into combat with Executor, the Doctor reassessed.

Such reassessment is the reason as to why you and Executor were in the position you both were currently - together on a short rooftop in order to provide ranged support as the rest of the Squad rescued the hostages and subdued the hostiles.

The choice to deploy you with Executor was surprisingly beneficial, as two pairs of eyes are better at one pair in regards to surveying for threats. Despite that the rest of the Squad had initially looked at the Doctor as though they’d grown a pair of Sarkaz ears and gained a Phidian tail all at once, they now concluded yours and Executor’s position together for this Operator as all part of the Doctor’s plan.

However, you would’ve argued that your eyes slowly becoming more occupied with staring at the Sankta in wordless awe - those rumours about how his appearance was candy for one’s eyes were in fact not simple rumours at all, you realized - rather than your eyes being focused on the Operation site below and the surrounding area, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

You would’ve argued again that your distracted state caused by Executor’s close proximity resulting in you failing to notice the hostile crossbowman a few rooftops away with you as his target, until his bolt was already fired and struck into your shoulder, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

“Ghk!” You gulped down the pained yelp as the arrowhead suddenly pierced into your body, and instead a strained grunt of effort covered over it as you lifted the weapon-bearing arm upward in a swift movement; snapping your eyes off of their spot previously super-glued onto Executor’s face, you narrow your gaze and fix it onto the now-fleeing crossbowman. Trusting your own aim as an Elite Operator, you raise your weapon without much ceremony and fire.

A relieved huff leaves your lungs after the crossbowman crumbles to the ground after your weapon-fire hits him in a direct headshot. That relief was momentary, however, as the sharpened ache throughout your entire arm quickly reminded you of the crossbow bolt in your shoulder.

Executor’s attention was rapt on your form once gravity yanked your body downward and sent your knees to collide harshly with the concrete below you; immediately, he was across the rooftop and wrapping a secure arm around your waist to assist you in sitting onto the ground with your back leaning against the ledge of the rooftop.

“You have been hit with an enemy projectile. Do not move.” His voice left him in a stable tone as expected, while his eyes scanned over your body in search of any further harm, then lingering your injury, before they settled onto your face. Your mouth opened to speak, only to shut when his gaze fixed to yours; a hue of scarlet rose onto your cheeks and your eyes averted from his own, despite that they’d been firmly locked onto him just moments earlier. The heaviness of your embarrassment - you’d just been hit by an enemy, because you were too busy oogling your Squadmate - began to near-smother the ache from your injury.

With confidence, you expected the Sankta to flatly point out your blunder in a tone lowered slightly in disappointment, as he advised you to not repeat the same mistake in the future or remarked that he should’ve declined the Doctor’s suggestion to have you function as his partner for this operation. None of those came, however.

In contrast - stark contrast - to the scenarios you’d imagined, Executor’s facial expression became one of slightly furrowed brows with faint downturn of his lips, and then his voice left him in careful words, “I apologize for my lack of attention to our surroundings. I failed to notice and warn you of the threat in time.” A thoughtful pause, and his eyes flicked to your injury before returning to yours, “I will ensure I do not repeat this mistake on subsequent occasions.”

You blinked, and for a moment you wanted to ask him to repeat what he said because you were certain you must’ve heard it wrong. Your injury had been your own mistake, not his; despite, you had rarely ever heard the Sankta’s voice laced with the sincerity it was as his words of apology left him.

Finally, your voice escaped the grip of your previous embarrassment and you managed a reply, “I-It’s alright. It’s my fault, Executor, I wasn’t paying attention. You don’t have to be concerned about it-” His head tilted to the side, then shook it in a near imperceptible movement, “Negative. The safety of my partner for this Operation is a logical cause for my concern.”

Everyone who knew him would firmly agree that he was not a man who ever said things simply out of courtesy. Therefore, the genuinity of this concern - his concern over you - was undoubtable. He felt wholly and truly responsible, for your injury and for ensuring your safety.

“E-Executor-” Your words vanished from you and your thoughts scattered once more as Executor returned his attention to your injury, “The projectile is not an Originium product, there is no risk of Oripathy Infection.” He angled his head to inspect the site of the injury further, then he continued, “Resulted injury is a puncture wound, estimated to be a few inches in depth. Non-lifethreatening.”

The blue of his irises lost a fraction of its sharpness when his eyes left the arrow bolt in your shoulder to find your own eyes once more, “On-field medical treatment is advised. Rest assured that I am qualified to administer.” If they weren't before already, your eyes were widened incredulously now, “You want to…patch me up?” Executor nodded, “If you will allow me, yes.” Your own nod came in a slow reply, “Yes, I'm okay with that…” His gaze focused onto your injury, “Very well.”

With that, his hands placed, one cupped your shoulder and the other held your arm steady. You half-expected a firm grip, one not aware or not caring of the force it was exerting.

Instead, Executor’s hands were careful, only applying necessary pressure; the warmth of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of his gloves and offered some soothe to the ache of your injury. Were these really the forceful hands that tore the heart out of a beast? The unexpected gentleness of his touch caused heat to rise to your cheeks and your heartbeat to quicken within your ribcage.

This certainly couldn't be the same Executor whom even your fellow Elite Operators were uncomfortable working with because of his callousness. After all, this Executor’s concern for you was evident; in the way he had instantly been at your side the moment he noticed you’d been attacked, in the way he apologized for what he believed to be his failure in protecting you, and in the way was now tending to your injury. ‘Callous’ was antonymous with ‘concern’, it was impossible for him to encapsulate both. You had yet to witness a display of his supposed lack-of-a-heart, and all but witnessed his evidence of one - a heart misread by many and miscommunicated to many, a heart abstruse.

Yes, anyone with eyes could state with confidence that Executor was handsome; it seemed, however, that you were the only who was now being settled upon with the realization that, ‘and he’s a gentleman’.

Your heart was rapid within your chest, your cheeks flushed a pink hue, - and your eyes could not remove themselves from Executor. Any attempt you made to avert your attention failed, as whenever you flicked your gaze away, it still inevitably fixed onto his careful hands, or his assured movements, or his focus-sharpened face. He unearthed a tourniquet from the black bag he had slung around his shoulder, briefly explained to you that he would apply it in order to halt blood flow and limit excessive bleeding.

He carefully set the arm of your injured shoulder to rest across your stomach, a more comfortable position and one that supports the vulnerable limb enough for the time being, “Please maintain this position, and refrain from moving or attempting to use your arm until we rejoin our Squad. A Medic Operator is required to properly attend to your injury.”, All you managed is a high-pitched sound, a “mhm” in reply.

You silently said thank you to the fact that applying the tourniquet on your arm required majority of his focus, else you were aware he would’ve noticed you staring yet again.

Your eyes studied each of his facial features, each line of his face. His eyes didn’t display enough emotion to discern, as they never did, however your closeness allowed you to notice how concentration sharpened them as he twisted the tourniquet and how the city lights illuminated the light blue hue of his irises; the ivory strands of his hair fell slightly into his gaze as he tilted his head down to properly view your injury, and your hand twitched to tuck the straying pieces away back into their place; his pale skin on his face was without blemishes, and you silently argued with yourself over if his cheeks would be cool or warm to the touch.

You didn’t have to continue mentally debating with yourself over it for very long, as your arm not effected by your injury suddenly lifted to allow your hand to cradle his cheek. Warm; the surface of his skin is warm, and under the contact of your palm, you notice his cheek becomes warmer.

Executor stiffened completely to the point of being statuesque, from his hands ceasing their task of securing your tourniquet to his lungs failing to expand with air for a moment; the only movement was of his hair falling to obscure his eyes. You initially mistook his flinch for discomfort, and you almost pulled your hand away in worry that he would push it away himself.

Again, however, Executor averted your expectations.

He tilts his head in a slow and small movement towards your touch, then he slowly allowed his gaze to drift to yours. No words produced from his throat until after a small while, when your code name was uttered from his lips and he continued in words of question, “...What do you require? Is your injury causing you excessive pain, or do you feel abnormal symptoms?” You didn’t provide an answer to his queries, unless what you blurted out next could be called a sufficient answer.

“Executor, you're pretty.”

He did not reply to you, initially. The Sankta remained unmoving, not even a twitch of his fingers or a blink of his eyes, for a long moment; when he finally did move, it was in a series of slow blinks. Then, his lungs suddenly pulled in a curt inhale of air and his eyes widened, albeit so little you would've missed had you not been leaned in closer to him.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “I am unsure what you mean.”

His reply was near priceless, as you didn't think such a straightforward statement would require elaboration; the only other thing you couldn't possibly put a fitting price on was the near-imperceptibly stunned expression that had quickly fallen onto his face.

Chiming with a light giggle, you pressed your hand closer to his cheek and reiterated in a tone firm with insistence, “As in, you're attractive. No wonder everyone in that Engineering Dormitory insists on asking you out non-stop.” Your addendum to your original statement did little to relieve Executor of his puzzled state, and did everything to exacerbate it. “Pardon. I am afraid I do not understand your wording.” His voice was loyal to that which was typical of him, as it did not falter and remained cool as usual; it was his facial features, that betrayed him.

The size of his pupils shrunk as his eyes widened a fraction more, his jaw tightened visibly as he attempted to catch his lips from falling agape, and his eyebrows lowered to knit slightly in a confused furrow. All are changes you had never witnessed on his facial features before, and each new one you noticed began to cause your lips to upturn into a delighted grin. Most especially - the pink hue that faintly dusted his cheeks.

“Oh!” Your exclamation was raised in astonishment; you'd never once seen Executor’s pale cheeks saturated with any colour at all, not on any occasion, not to any person, not in reaction to anything. And yet, they were now flushed a rosy tint. The injury on your shoulder was forgotten completely; elation lifted your heart towards the sky and mirth played across on your facial features.

With glimmering eyes and an exultant smile, your voice melted out of you in a coo lifted with tease, “Now you look really pretty, blushing like that.”

Executor’s cheeks deepened in colour, however after that, you received no further reactions. You wondered if his brain abruptly quit functioning when it received your words, unfamiliar words that it failed to process; his gaze didn’t leave your face for even a glance, his facial expression froze in wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and he halted all his movement, somehow even including the natural movements of his blackened halo and wings.

Much to your even further amusement, you were reminded of when the Rhodes Island computer terminals displayed the error with the blue screen that instructed to restart the device.

[moonlight-prose]

EVERGREEN WASN'T SUCH A BAD DREAM

➝ A HURT DRABBLE

a/n: this first started out as a small idea jotted down in my notebook way back in august. i was trying to write hurt and it was being put on hold cause honestly i was scared to continue it. i didn't think i'd ever write it and honestly it didn't make much sense to me given the way the fic played out. but i couldn't get over the idea that these two got a little bit of joy in their lives. it's pre-chapter six so i hope y'all enjoy! divider by the incredibly talented @saradika.

summary: in the middle of destruction nature continues to follow the same path as before. starting with the first snowfall of the season. you just happen to be there to witness it with him.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, soft joel, cold weather antics, fluff, a tad bit of romance, angst, grief, talk of the future in a hopeless world.

SERIES MASTERLIST

A blanket of white covered the world, turning everything brighter. The sun reflected off the snow, practically sparkling. You heard the crunch beneath your boots—the sound familiar and inviting. It called to the small fractured piece of joy that still remained in your body; begged you to finally let go and have some fun. Even as the world went to shit, the first snowfall never failed to make you smile.

Your breath collected in the air in front of you. Showing you just how cold it really was. Which only made you smile more—your nose practically numb with the frigid air.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slipping on the heavy gloves that he found in an old shop a few towns back. “It’s too cold.”

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath that burned on its way in. ‘Yeah but…it snowed.”

His eyes narrowed at your overjoyous smile. “It’s a pain in the ass to travel through snow.”

That was true.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset about such a beautiful thing. Snow has always been attuned to joy in your life. The start of fun spent outdoors with your brother. Hot drinks with friends as your university began to set up for the worst. And sure there were the annoyances and hardships that came with this weather. But you had always found that the positives far outweighed the negatives in this case.

Joel couldn’t necessarily say the same. A bitter feeling of grief began to build in his chest—Sarah’s face entering his mind. They spent holidays in the snow. Holed up in the house as they watched a movie—usually a Christmas movie with a predictable script—often inviting Tommy for the night. It was a time he’d give anything to return to.

The weight in his chest pressed down painfully—attempting to drag him down. Back into the darkness he was so used to residing in.

Except something bright broke through its walls. As if sunlight was once again shedding its light over him. Warmth consumed him; offering him hope with a soft press to the agony that splintered him half. Only when he tore himself out his mind did he realize what it was.

The sound of your laughter.

Small flakes began to fall from the sky, catching on his hair and jacket. They stung his face slightly. He couldn’t focus on that though. Not when you were smiling, your bare hands trying to catch each snowflake—your tongue sticking out. For the first time he saw a childlike wonder in your eyes. The cloud of grief he’d grown so accustomed to—now dissipated as you played in the snow.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked as his lips pulled up at one side.

You laughed again and Joel felt a bolt of lightning go through his heart. Even though it was freezing outside, that warmth spilled into his chest, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. He understood what love felt like. How it affected a person, but this…this was more. This was the missing emotion he thought he’d never see again in this lifetime.

“As a matter of fact—I am having fun.”

You stepped closer to him, letting your freezing nose press against the hollow of his throat. He jolted, eliciting another small giggle from your lips. But he refused to move. Simply shifting slightly to open his jacket in order to pull you closer until his body heat seeped into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, tugging you until your feet were pressed between his.

“Gonna get sick,” he muttered under his breath.

A puff of cold breath left you, caressing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. “C’mon Joel, it’s fun.”

“Boston—”

“Don’t you remember fun?”

He stiffened, hands frozen on your back. Only this time you didn’t immediately apologize for possibly saying the wrong thing. You remained silent. Gave him a chance to process the pain that was no doubt overtaking his body, a grief you would never be able to understand. Each of you carried your own demons—dragged down by the weight of them daily, and only for a brief moment did you see him allow them to lift.

“I do,” he replied, his voice thick with torment.

You shut your eyes, ran your hands up his back and let out a breath. “Tell me about it.”

Tell me about your past. Tell me about her.

Joel rarely mentioned anything when it came to his past. That continued to be a locked door you held no key to and you accepted that. You took what you could with him. But standing there in the middle of a snowy serene winter, you finally wanted to see each broken part he hid from you. You wanted to watch the sunlight glint off them like glass and catch their beauty in the palm of your hands.

You wanted to know him.

“We’d celebrate Christmas,” he said softly, lips pressed to your hair. “Nothin’ fancy. Nothin’ big. But we’d get a tree.”

He never told you who Sarah was to him, never revealed what happened to her. You were just happy to finally hear about something joyous in his life. That once upon a time…he might have smiled. Hell he might have even laughed often. You could tell by the lines around his eyes, proof that this man had experienced more than just this.

“In Texas?” you pressed, face peeking up to see his gaze already on you.

He nodded. “My brother usually joined us.”

Surprise lingered in your body, but you pushed past it. “You never told me you had a brother.”

And there it was, that small hint of a smile showing through the heartbreak on his face. “Yeah…Tommy.”

You tried to conjure up a picture of the other Miller. Did he have brown eyes like Joel? Was he older or younger? Was he still alive? Something told you with the way Joel reacted simply by saying the man’s name, that he remained okay. That somewhere on this Earth he was alive. You wanted to ask more, see if he’d let you in on a life you were never meant to be a part of. But pressing Joel to do anything—especially talking about his past—was not something that would go over easily.

“Did you play in the snow?” you asked, a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky, a soft red stain flushing across his face. “We did.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, fingers pinching at your hip. Only to feel his heart flutter at the echo of your laugh being pressed to his chest.

He swore his heart responded to the sound, twisting in a way that he didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t wracked with pain, it wasn't threatening to drown him beneath his grief. It simply just existed.

Perhaps that’s what he could do for this one moment.

Stand in the snow as a man, holding a woman he loved, and exist.

“Hey Texas.”

He ran a soothing hand up your back, fingers lightly tracing the hem of your jacket. “Hm?”

“Will you play in the snow with me?”

Something lit up his eyes, the brown suddenly a lighter gold that struck a chord in your heart. He played you like a fucking guitar and with that one look, you’d let him. Joel took a breath, mouth parting, and did the one thing you longed to see. He smiled. Nothing small or minor, but a full blown smile that made your heartbeat cease to exist. For the first time…he looked happy. As if the man from before had shoved his way forward to finally give you a proper look at who he once was.

At the man he longed to be again.

“Yeah Boston,” he said, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “I will.”

A laugh escaped your mouth when he shoved you back lightly, hands reaching for the freshly fallen snow on the ground. You did the same. Digging your fingers into the freezing icy ground, pulling up a small amount to make a ball. Only for Joel to throw one at you, hitting you square in the shoulder.

“I wasn’t ready!”

He chuckled, heading for you. “Move faster.”

“Ironic you’re telling me that.” He stuttered, eyes flashing dark at the memory of having you the day before, but that faded with another grin. One that taunted you with something more.

A promise of a life that could be.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the snow falling from your hands as he hauled you backwards. A yelp escaped your mouth when he fell, your body landing on top of his—snow sticking to his hair and yours. The sun still burned bright in the sky, flakes continued to rain down around you, but for this one single moment…you existed in a space that felt good.

That felt normal.

“We’ll have a tree,” you said softly, rolling over to lay beside him.

He turned to look at you, eyes tender. “A tree huh?”

You nodded. “One day.”

“Okay,” he murmured, hand cupping your cheek. “We’ll have a tree.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good evening, I got another idea for your new event

Aces' older brother and grim interaction like "oh, Ace, how you got so tall— agh! It's not Ace" "oh? Oh. Oooh, hello. Isn't it that 'stupid raccoon' my lil' bro was talking about? " "HEY! Don't call THE great Grim raccoon! "

[Referencing this interaction!]

… I like how we’ve come to a silent consensus that Big Bro Trappola is just a taller version of Ace 😂

Fun fact: In the JP fandom, a lot of fans call Ace’s brother “Jack”, a reference to the character “Jack Hearts” from the Villain Recruiters group (part of Tokyo Disney Sea’s Halloween events).

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

You heard Grim's familiar shrill cries echo up from the bottom of a twisting stairwell. Peering down over the banister, you found an auburn-haired boy detaining Grim by the scruff, the poor little beast flailing for freedom. You called out to them as you jogged down the stairs, speaking a name you knew so well: Ace.

As you approached, a realization started to set in—that Ace was far taller than usual. But surely it was the same cheery troublemaker you'd always known. He had the same cheeky smile and bright eyes.

A growth spurt? Or had he defied Riddle's warnings to not eat the dubious mushrooms that grew in the Heartslabyul gardens?

Ace casually raised his free hand to wave as you descended. “Yo.”

“Hey!! Wow Ace, when did you get this tall?” you said teasingly.

The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. You noticed that he had parted his bangs today, and had drawn on his heart much smaller, more of an accessory than a statement piece.

“Well, you know how it is. A growing boy like me’s always got something up his sleeve.”

“M-Minion, there you are!!” Grim sputtered, aggressively kicking his furry feet midair. “Quick, after this imposter!”

“Imposter?”

“Don’t mind him. Little dude’s got his tail in a twist cuz I called him a raccoon.” A wicked grin crept onto Ace’s lips. It was easy and devil-may-care—and Ace was that devil. “Isn’t that right, ta-nu-ki-chan?”

He prodded Grim’s cheek with each singsong syllable. One, two, three, four… and Grim lost it.

“MYAAAH!!” He thrashed about wildly, swiping his paws at his just-out-of-reach captor. “I’m so MAD, I could spit!! When I get my paws on you, I’ll…!”

“Watch it, or you’ll set the whole dorm on fire,” you warned, “and then we’ll have an upset Riddle to deal with.”

“Who, the teapot tyrant? Isn’t he off sipping tea somewhere? I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“Ace!!” You gaped at him, eyes wide. “You talking about him is just going to make Riddle magically manifest to collar you again! It’s like the universe is out to get you at this point.”

“I’m cool with that. I doubt he’ll behead me anyway.”

“What makes you think he won’t?!”

Ace simply shrugged and wiggled his brows—as if daring you to guess. “Let’s just say I don’t think I’m the guy he’d be after,” he said mysteriously with a wink.

“AHHHHHHHH!!”

You startled at the scream that tore through the air. Your head whipped in the direction of it, expecting an enraged Riddle, face red and nostrils flaring, charging at you. Instead, the person scrambling over was…

“Ace?!”

You looked back at the young man holding onto Grim, then again at the one fast approaching. Side by side, the little differences between them came to light.

The taller Ace was sharper in every way—eyes, lips, face. His attire was far more casual than Riddle would allow for: an open vest, dress shirt undone a few buttons, a loose tie thrown over his shoulder. He had a relaxed maturity about him, as though Ace had been aged into some semblance of adulthood, but had maintained all of his wonder.

The imposter assumed a sheepish smirk. “‘Sup, lil’ bro?”

“Don’t ‘sup, lil’ bro me!!” Ace groaned, marching over to land a swift punch to his brother’s arm arm. “Dude, you can’t just ditch me to go screw with my friends! Only I'm allowed to do that!"

“My bad, my bad. I was just curious about what kinda people you hang around with.” His brother laughed, setting Grim back on the ground. You were quick to grab him before he circled around to attack the older Trappola’s pant leg.

“So,” Ace’s brother continued, his gaze trained on you and Grim, “you must be the ones that had Ace running to Sage’s Island over winter break. He was really worried when you got your SOS text. Basically broke his piggy bank to make sure he had enough allowance to take public transportation back to NRC.”

“Oh? Really? I had no idea he was so desperate to be my hero.”

“H-Hey, don’t listen to him! He’s blowing it out of proportion! I totally wasn’t that worried,” Ace protested. “Besides, if dummies like you and Deuce weren’t around… then school life would be so much more boring. A wellness check here or there’s fine, so lay off!”

His brother chuckled. Leaning into your ear, he murmured, “That’s how Ace shows that he cares.”

“Oi, what are you whispering about?!” Ace cried, elbowing his brother out of the way. “Stop gettin’ all chummy with MY friends and butt out. You’re supposed to be spending time with your family today anyway, so let’s get going!”

“What, I was just about to embarrass you by sharing stupid stories with them~”

“Like I’d like that happen!!” With a pout, Ace yanked on his brother’s arm. “Come on, you have adult stuff to do!!”

"Like you don’t have kid stuff to do?”

“I’m NOT a little kid anymore!”

“And I’m still young at heart.”

Stuck between the duo, you and Grim exchanged knowing glances.

“Those two… they really are alike, huh?”

“You know it, minion.”