#I’VE BEEN STUNNED TO ACTUAL SILENCE

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Leona Kingscholar

Cliché: Misplaced Jealousy

Others: Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

it's gonna be a little series where each of them gets a cliché!

For days now, Leona had been simmering. He’d never admit to caring about something so trivial, but that simmer was rapidly reaching a boil, one muttered “Savanaclaw guy” at a time. Because you—his supposed close friend, the only person he could actually stand around here—had developed some grand crush on… someone. Someone you kept bringing up. Some unknown, nameless, faceless moron in Savanaclaw.

And you just wouldn’t shut up about him.

Leona had been sitting through your monologues, listening to you talk about how strong and loyal and amazing this guy was, and it had started as a minor annoyance. But as you kept going, he realized something deeply frustrating—maybe even painful.

That after everything, you had gone and chosen some other Savanaclaw idiot over him. And it stung, more than he’d ever want to admit, to hear you talking about anyone like this.

But today was the breaking point.

You were lounging in his den, casually chatting with him between classes. As usual, the conversation took a familiar turn, and you sighed dramatically. “I mean, I guess it’s just… this guy, he’s just… I don’t know. He’s got this strength that’s so impressive, and he always knows how to take charge. Like, he doesn’t even need to try, you know? It’s like he was born to lead.” You didn’t notice Leona’s eyes darken or the way his fingers clenched into fists.

“Just the way he’s so confident,” you continued, “he’s got this whole ‘I don’t care about anything’ vibe that’s really charming in a weird way. It’s like he’s always one step ahead of everyone, even when he’s—”

Leona cut you off with a harsh scoff. “Right. Real inspiring. Sounds like a real prize,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “And I bet he doesn’t even realize how perfect he is, right?”

“Exactly! He’s the type who’s always underestimated,” you continued, oblivious to the thunderous look on Leona’s face. “But if people would just give him a chance, they’d see all his best qualities. He’s fierce, but he’s got this heart of gold underneath it all. People just don’t get him.”

“Oh, don’t they?” Leona’s voice was low and strained, a bitter edge cutting through his usual drawl. “Must be nice to be so adored by someone.”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t say it like that. He doesn’t even know I like him. I don’t even know if he’d ever see me like that.” You let out a wistful sigh that was like a slap to his face.

Leona’s patience finally snapped. “Unbelievable,” he snarled, standing up so fast that you jumped. “You’re completely clueless.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Clueless? Leona, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you,” he bit out, eyes blazing. “You’re here—wasting your time on someone who probably doesn’t even care about you while you throw yourself at him like some kind of fool. I mean, what’s it gonna take for you to get it?”

You were stunned into silence, and he kept going, frustration pouring out in a way that you’d never seen before. “After everything, you go and pick someone else?” His voice cracked a little, and it made your heart ache. “I thought maybe… maybe if there was anyone here you’d choose, it would be me.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You were utterly bewildered. “Leona… what are you talking about? It has always been you.”

He blinked, staring at you, completely thrown. “What?”

You took a step closer to him, speaking slowly, trying to get through his thick skull. “Leona, all that stuff I’ve been saying—every time I was talking about this person I liked, I was talking about you.”

Leona looked like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt. His mouth fell open slightly, and he was struggling to catch up, his usual composure completely shattered. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Yes! Why else would I even talk about Savanaclaw so much?” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one who kept assuming it was someone else.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you saw a raw vulnerability in his eyes that he usually kept hidden. “All this time… I really thought you’d gone and chosen some other guy,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Thought at least you’d pick me.”

The way he said it made your heart break a little. He looked almost small, like the thought of not being chosen had left him gutted in a way he couldn’t fully hide. You reached out, gently taking his hand. “Leona, it’s always been you. You’re the one I’ve been drawn to from the start.”

A surge of relief softened his features, and he gave a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle. His usual swagger returned, just a bit, as he held your hand tighter. “Well,” he murmured, his gaze becoming intense, “then what’re you waiting for?”

You didn’t waste another second. You closed the space between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that was long overdue. He responded immediately, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. The kiss was fierce, almost possessive, and when he finally broke away, he was wearing a smug, satisfied grin.

“About damn time,” he murmured against your lips, though there was a warmth in his voice that softened the usual sharpness. He looked down at you, his fingers grazing your cheek with an unexpected tenderness. “Next time, just skip all the theatrics and tell me, alright?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“Obvious?” He huffed, rolling his eyes with a faint smile. “Trust me, you’re terrible at ‘obvious.’”

But as he gazed at you, that smirk melted into something genuine, something that showed how deeply he cared. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… you’re really mine, then?”

You nodded, and he let out a pleased sigh, holding you even tighter. “Good,” he said, his voice low and possessive, like he was finally claiming what was his. “Now let’s ditch these losers. We don’t need anyone else, just us.”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as his hand gently stroked your back. “Fine by me,” you murmured, happiness bubbling up as you pressed small kisses along his jawline, making him chuckle.

For once, Leona didn’t have any sharp retorts, no scowls or walls to put up. He just held you, his heart finally at ease, the weight of his doubts and insecurities melting away as he finally let himself be happy.

Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Lightning Love

Hi guys!

Like I said, after seeing Steph in that outfit I just COULDN'T not write something for her.

It's longer than I expected to be honest, but I hope you will like it!

TW : Some Angst maybe, Alcohol consumption, mention of breakup

It’s always strange to be at a wedding while your ex-girlfriend just ends things with you. Until early November, you were due to come here with Leila Ouahabi, your former girlfriend.

She broke up with you after an eight-month relationship but, with the reasons she gave you, you can’t really be mad at her. She accused you of not being as involved in your relationship as you should have been after so long. It was true that with her being in Manchester and you in London, you aren’t able to see each other very often.

But it was good for you, you had fun dates, you laughed a lot, and you had good moments with her.

Leila was right to say that though, because the real reason for your lack of involvement is probably very related to the fact that you are dead in love with your Australian teammates, Steph Catley.

And seeing her today at Emily and Kat’s wedding doesn’t help.

Steph is absolutely stunning, and you have trouble looking somewhere else.

You never told anyone about your crush on her, you never wanted to make things strange with anyone. Steph was in love with Dean, happier than ever and that is all you want for her. You never had a talk with her about her preference before she met Dean, but for you Steph is as straight as a ruler.

So, you totally have not a single chance with her.

You were happy for her when you learned about her engagement and genuinely sad when you learned that her and Dean broke up.

And right now, as you are looking at her laughing with Caitlin and Katie, you just can feel your heart clenched. Maybe it’s the consumption of alcohol that makes you feel sadder than you actually did. It doesn’t stop you from accepting another glass of champagne when a waiter comes for you.

“You alright?”

You turn your head towards Kristie, Sam’s girlfriend, you are sitting next to you. You promised to Sam to look for her while she takes some pictures with some of your friends, but you probably weren't good company after all.

“Yeah, sorry” you turn yourself towards the blonde. “Do you need something to drink?”

You realise that her glass is empty when you glance at it and that the waiter didn’t bring something alcohol free. With her being pregnant and the heath around today, you hope that he will get fired soon.

“I’m alright” she smiles.

“No, please drink at least water. Sam is going to kill me otherwise”

Kristie smiles when you fill her glass with cold water and it’s only two minutes before Sam comes back with Steph and Mackenzie Arnold.

“Have you been treated well?” Sam smirks towards you. “I’ve heard that she doesn’t know how to treat girls right”

You roll your eyes and let yourself go against the back of your chair. You know that Leila hasn’t said anything bad against you, your breakup was pretty chill, and you are still talking from time to time. But the woso-world is a small world and some of her friends probably made some assumptions.

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asks while Steph frowns.

“I’m just saying what I’ve heard” Sam says, raising her hands defensively.

“I’m sure that is wrong. Y/N is the cutest of all of you”

Steph statements and the defensive hands she puts on your arm make you feel warm inside. And stupid to react like a teenage boy.

Sam smirks before inviting Kristie to go dancing, leaving you with Mackenzie and Steph alone at the table. It’s a little bit depressing to see all these couples to be honest. A moment of silence floats between you three, all of you probably lost in their thoughts.

You know that Mackenzie broke up with her girlfriend some weeks ago too, or that her girlfriend broke up with her. Either way, it’s never really great to be in that position for a wedding.

“Well, that’s surely depressing” Mackenzie finally states, looking at you three.

You can’t help but giggle at that, Steph smiling next to you. You know that there are more single people there, by the way where the hell is Alanna?

“You don’t see someone who might be interesting for you? Weddings leading to another wedding are great love stories” you say, looking at Mackenzie.

“No, and I’m not sure that I want to” she sights softly. “On another hand, Steph probably could try something with the way our waiter looks at her every time he is near”

You hold a grimace of disgust thinking about that waiter and glance towards Steph, to see that she has the same expression you just retained.

“No thanks” she mumbles.

“She deserves someone better than him anyway” you add, before taking another sip of your drink.

You feel Steph’s gaze on you, but you distract yourself by looking at Caitlin and Katie dancing a little further than the other people in the crowd.

“I’m going to see if I can find Lany” Mackenzie says before standing up.

You watch her leave before turning your head towards Steph. She was already looking at you and you are glad that the night has fallen otherwise she would have seen the red colouring your cheeks.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks softly.

“Sure” you accept with a smile.

You stand up and have some trouble finding your balance, between your heels and the champagne you drank in probably too much quantity. You feel stupid at first, before feeling Steph grabs your arm to give you more balance.

“Are you okay?” she laughs.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t stand for a long time and the Champagne kept coming back in my glass” you smirk.

She laughs again and you feel the habitual feeling in your stomach. At first you were sad to learn that Steph signed to Arsenal and not Tottenham where you are playing with Charlie. But then you realised too that it’s probably better like this. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the reality of your feelings in another way.

It’s already too hard to do it when you are at Australian camp. Thank God Kyra is always here to distract her, you are pretty sure that other than that you would have been caught since a long time.

You silently walk next to her, your arms always linked together. You like it that way, feeling her against you without you being the one making the first move.

Steph and you are pretty close, you are the same age and started to play at the same time. You played together in Melbourne until she left for the USA, and you went to Tottenham. With her being in London from 2020 it’s easier for you to see each other, usually for walking Calvin or drinking coffee.

“Seriously, how are you dealing with your breakup?” Steph suddenly asks.

Surprised, you turn your head in her direction before shrugging. You didn’t really talk about it with her to be honest. Leila broke up with you early November, then you had all of those games and after that Christmas break was there. It is only thanks to the wedding that you are able to see her before January.

“I’m okay, for real. It wasn’t that serious from my side, and I think she understands it. I liked her but I wasn’t in love, you know” you shrug.

“You were in a relationship without being in love?”

You can hear Steph’s surprise and almost discontent in her tone. You know how that girl is romantic, and you cringe a little after saying what you said.

“I was hoping to really fall in love with her” you precise. “I mean she’s funny, beautiful and everything… But I don’t know. Something was missing”

“I think I can understand” Steph says slowly.

“It was comfortable, but we weren’t meant to be”

She nods and you keep walking in silence a little more. You are in the vineyards now, the noise of the party coming from far behind you. It’s quiet and peaceful here. You like it.

“What about you?” you ask quietly.

“I’m okay, I think. I wasn’t expecting this to be honest, but I can’t fight against it”

“Are you still in love with him?”

You realise when Steph looks at you how inappropriate your question is. You are not her mother, her sister and even her best friend. You are just a friend who has nothing to say in her relationships.

“I’m sorry, I –“

“I don’t think I’m in love with him anymore” Steph cuts you.

By then you stopped walking, and you are facing each other. With the sun going down Steph gets ride of her sunglasses but she’s still stunning. You could look at her pretty face all day long anyway.

You weren’t expecting an answer, so you shut your mouth and let her talk.

“I don’t think I was for a long time now… I can’t say since when, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any affection for him, you know? I just fall out of love with him”

She seems sad though and you take all the strength you have in you not to crush her against you. You take her hand back in yours instead, giving her what you hope is a comforting squeeze.

“You will find the right person for you” you smile at her, continuing when she makes a pouty face. “Of course you will. I mean, every single person would be lucky to have you in their life.”

“We’ll see”

You hum, looking at the landscape around you. Em and Kat made a good choice by coming here. It’s really beautiful.

“You’ll find someone too, you know?”

You pout and shrug, not really believing this. In almost ten years you never found someone able to make you forget Steph, it’s not going to change now. You just have to live with the fact that you fall in love with someone straight and will never be able to be happy with her.

You can’t say that to Steph like this, though.

“Want to go back?” you ask.

But Steph shakes her head no and when you look around you spot a bench between two lines of vineyard. You make Steph wait before sitting down, using your jacket to protect her dress.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steph asks a little after.

“Sure” you mumble, looking now at the stars.

But after that there is only silence and you turn your face to Steph, to see that she seems to be thinking about how to tell you what’s in her mind. It attracts your curiosity, and you tilt your head on the side, silently questioning her.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, but… I’ve never seen you really into your girlfriends, you know? Sure, you liked them and treated them well despite what Sam said before, but I never saw you fond of them. Have you really been in love once?”

You sigh softly, now turning your eyes back on the stars. She seems scared about your reaction at her question, but you are not mad. You are more jaded by the situation than something else.

“Once” you finally answer.

“You were in love once?” Steph asks for clarity.

You nod, still without looking at her. You are scared that she would be able to understand if you look her in the eyes.

“With whom?”

“I never told her”

“What? Why?”

Steph seems genuinely surprised and almost concerned by this statement. She sits to be able to lean and be able to look at you correctly, not only the side of your face. It’s hard to ignore her like this and you bite your lip unconsciously when she’s still looking at you.

“It’s complicated, Steph”

“Why?”

“Because it is”

“Is she in a relationship? Is it someone who’s here?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you whisper.

Realising that she was maybe put too much pressure on your, Steph sits back and seems a little bit embarrassed by her behaviour.

“Of course. I’m sorry”

You give her a small smile. It maybe would be great to able to talk about it to someone, but you don’t know who. All of your close friends are close to Steph, and you don’t want to put them in a complicated situation. You don’t like lies and secrets, even if you keep this one for years now.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Yes, please.”

You totally can do with more alcohol.

Even if you offered her your hand to help her walk in the dark, the way back is filled with silence and just a glance at Steph makes you understand that she’s lost in her thoughts.

You wonder what it is, hoping that she’s not thinking about Dean. That boy has fallen far down in your esteem since her breakup with Steph. You refer to him as “Calvin’s dad”. It amuses Steph though, so it’s probably okay that way.

“Ow, look who took the most beautiful girl away to kiss her in the vineyard?”

Alanna’s voice makes Steph and you jump. You don’t really know which one of Steph or you let the other hand go first, but you blush stupidly.

“Shut up” Steph answers.

You are surprised to see that she seems flustered too, but Steph is taken away from you by Mackenzie for something related to a new cocktail to try. You are a little sad to watch her go away but try to concentrate your attention on something else.

Like the glass Hayley gives you.

********

You watch Steph from afar for the rest of the night, staying with Hayley during this time. You had a lot of fun to be honest, even if you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest every time you see her laughing with Mackenzie.

You haven’t realised that they were so close, to be honest.

At some point of the night, you decide that you are too drunk to stay any longer and take advantage of Clare leaving to do the same thing. After saying goodbye to the married couple, you take your taxi and leave to go back to your hotel room.

You are almost relieved to find the silence here and even if it’s late (or early in the morning) you take the time to take a hot shower. It helps you sober up a little bit. You are still glad to find the softness and the warmth of your bed.

You were almost asleep when someone gently knocks on your door, making you groan in your pillow. But you still get up, opening your door just a little bit to be able to see who it is.

“Steph?” you frown, opening it a little more.

“I didn’t see you leaving” she says, playing with her bag.

“You were busy dancing with Macca” you shrug with a soft smile.

You weren’t jealous at all, of course.

(That’s a lie)

“Do you want to come inside?”

You open the door completely now and after a second of hesitation, Steph comes inside.

“I just wanted to say goodnight” Steph says, sitting on your bed. “And I wanted to be sure that you know you can talk to me about anything, at any time. You know that, right?”

“I know” you smile at her. “Thanks, though”

You are leaning against the desk in front of your bed, looking at her. You are glad that you put an old jersey and a shorty to sleep. Steph is still in her dress, and you love that you are able to look at her longer with this dress.

“And about that girl you are in love with…”

“Mh?”

“It’s not Hayley, is it?”

“No” you laugh. “The problem isn’t for her to be in a relationship. Hayley is just a friend”

You see her looking at you for several seconds, just like if she wants to be sure that you are saying the truth. But you are and she finally smiles again.

“Good. Do I know her?”

You hesitate to answer this time, biting your bottom lip thoughtfully. You know that if you say stop about this conversation at any time, Steph will accept it and talk about something else.

“You do” you finally answer.

“Is she a footballer?”

“She is” you smile.

Steph seems to have fun asking you those questions and you don’t want to suppress her smile. She said earlier that she never saw you fond of someone, it’s only because you aren’t allowed to show it. But you are so whipped.

“And it’s not Hayley” she thinks aloud while you shake your head. “Macca?”

“No” you laugh softly.

“Right, you told me that her relationship state isn’t the problem”

She still seems lost in her thoughts and you smile softly at her before talking again. You really hope that she will forget this conversation after a good night of sleep and having sober up.

“I do. But now you probably should go to bed. You look tired”

“You really know how to talk to women”

Steph rolls her eyes while you help her to get up, making you laugh. You guide her to the door that you open for her, smiling softly.

“You can look tired but still be beautiful, you know?” you point anyway.

She doesn’t answer but smiles before kissing your cheek. You froze, not expecting this gesture now. Your skin tickles you where she kissed you and you have to take all your concentration to stay focused in the moment.

“Sleep well” you say at the same time.

You smile and she giggles before going to her room. You close the door of yours, before letting yourself go against it and taking a big breath. Why is your life so complicated? Why aren’t you able to forget her and have a happy relationship with someone? Leila was great, for example.

Thinking about your ex, you look for your phone several minutes before spotting it in the bottom of your bag. You have several notifications there, including two messages from Steph asking you where you are. They came one hour before and you imagine that it was before she came back to the hotel too.

When you open Leila’s conversation, you see that she was online twenty minutes ago. Probably because it’s the middle of the afternoon in Spain. She went back to her country too to spend Christmas with her family.

You go in your bed again, looking at Leila’s goofy profile picture. After some hesitation, you start to write something like “Hello. I hope you are okay and have a great holiday for now. Can we just please talk about something if you have time?”

After all, Leila understood that you were totally into your relationship with her for a reason. She deserves to know why and maybe talking about it to someone will help you to pass to something else? Leila told you that she was still for you if you needed anything. And right now you really need to talk to someone.

Just after you send it, someone knocks at your door… Again. But you choose not to go answer this time, Steph is safely in her room, and can’t a girl have her beauty sleep?

But the person insists and at the third knock, you finally get up. If it’s Lany asking for a makeup remover, you are going to crush her.

But it’s not her. It’s Steph, again.

She has meanwhile removed her makeup, and her hair is down now. But it’s not what is the first thing you spot. She seems strange.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, frowning.

She doesn’t wait for you to propose to her to enter your room this time, passing in front of you to go inside. But you let her. After all she’s Steph, she can do everything she can.

“The girl you love. She’s a footballer and she’s single, because her relationship status isn’t the problem”

You watch her pacing around in your room, only nodding when she looks up to see your answer. What the hell is happening.

“Your problem is that she’s straight”

It’s not a question, but a statement. She doesn’t say it accusatively either, she makes you think about someone who is exposing his theory about something. You bite your lip when you nod again.

“And it’s not Charlie, is it?”

“No” you whisper.

Charlie is great and beautiful, but a little bit too young maybe. And definitively not Steph, once again. You look at Steph when she takes a big breathing, still not understanding what she’s up to.

“I think I know who it is, then”

“No, you don’t” you giggle softly.

She will never know and that is comforting and depressing at the same time. She’s still wearing this damn dress, and you want to rip your eyes apart for not being able to see her for any longer. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

“I do”

You heard that sentence several hours ago, pronounced by Emily and Kat and you found it cute at this time. But right now, coming from Steph’s mouth it feels strange. Maybe because she’s really close to you now.

“I have one more guess, but you have to tell me if I’m wrong”

“I will”

She’s so close that you can see every detail of her face and tell with certitude that she brushed her teeth too.

You still don’t understand what is happening, but by now she has closed the last centimetres existing between you and before you are able to freak out, she presses her lips against yours.

An uppercut probably might have made you less groggy than that. It was just a small press against your lips, but it was everything and you take a step towards Steph when she takes a step back.

“Maybe your problem isn’t really a problem” the left back whispers at you.

You lose two seconds to look at her deep in her eyes, before kissing her too. You don’t know if you are dreaming or hallucinating because of the alcohol, but it feels real and fucking amazing. Steph kisses you back and you take her against you by her waist.

********

The morning after you need two seconds to remember why you feel so happy and content. But you don’t open your eyes directly, scared to have only dreamed it. You are lying on your side, under the cover still with your pajamas. You didn’t sleep with Steph last night, it was “just” kisses and sweet nothing whispered, before you both fell asleep in your bed.

When you finally slowly open your eyes, you can see that Steph is still here and that she’s already up. The light in the room tells you that it’s probably pretty late, even with the blinds closed.

“Hello” you mumble shyly.

“Hi”

“Did you sleep well?”

Steph only nods and you understand immediately that something is wrong. You feel your stomach squirm uncomfortably. Of course, she would have regrets about it. She was probably at least tipsy last night; you shouldn’t have accepted any kisses from her in this state.

“We still can do it as if nothing happened” you whisper.

She frowns again and you want to erase those lines between her eyebrows with your thumb. At some point last night, she changed her dress for one of your shirts and it’s an unbelievable feeling to see her in one of your clothes.

“Is that what you want?”

“No” you admit before sighing. “But I want you to be comfortable”

“It’s not about yesterday” Steph says before rolling on her back and looking at the ceiling. “I mean, it does, but not exactly”

“Okay?”

You see her take a deep breath, just like yesterday before she kissed you. Waiting for her to talk, you put your head in your hand to have a better look at her. You are nervous, not knowing what to expect at this point.

“You said you love me” she begins and you nod. “So, I assume that what happened last night means something to you”

“It means everything” you whisper.

The smile that is on her face after hearing you saying that is breathtaking. But she is still looking at the ceiling, concentrating on what she wants to tell you.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but before everything I need to know if you are still involved in any way with Leila Ouahabi?”

You frown at that. You talked about it yesterday at the wedding, so you don’t understand why it is coming back now. But if she still needs reassurances, you will say at every minute if it allows you to have something with her.

“No, I told you yesterday. We are just talking from time to time but that’s all”

You would rather for Steph to look at you, but she’s still looking at the ceiling of your room, her frown deepening.

“In that case, why has she tried to call you several times and sent you messages like Sorry I was busy, What do you want to talk about or Please answer I’m worried?”

Looks like Leila took your message from yesterday in a very serious way.

“Oh… It’s not what you think” you start, but then Steph is turning her head very slowly towards you.

“Those are the exact words Dean told me when I saw the conversation he was having with that girl from his work, the very same he’s going on dates with as we speak”

You feel your face getting soft at her confession. She doesn’t talk a lot about Dean, not wanting for her friends to diabolise him, you think. But it looks like he deserves it finally. You move in the bed to be closer to her, wanting to offer her as much comfort as possible.

“Yesterday after you left my room for the first time, I sent a message to Leila asking her if she was free to talk about something” you explain while sitting up on the bed. “But then before she’s able to answer you came back and… well I hope you remember what happened”

She looks at you for several seconds, scanning your eyes and your face with attention. She’s probably looking for any possibility of lies, but you won’t take it against her.

“I do” she whispers and your mind flies back to yesterday.

“I can show you the conversation if you want to, I have nothing to hide. And I should probably write to Leila to excuse myself” you add, frowning softly.

“No, I – I trust you” she sighs “What did you want to talk about?”

“You” you smile this time.

“Me?”

She seems genuinely surprised by your answer and your smile grows wider. You nod at her and shyly put a strand of hair away from her face.

“Yeah. I needed someone to talk about it. And Leila already understood that I wasn’t really in our relationship for a reason. She was the easier one to talk to, especially because other than Lany, she doesn’t know a lot of Australian people”

“You wanted to talk about your feelings for a girl to one of your exes?”

She seems rather amused now and you realise that I might be a little weird finally. It wasn’t maybe your best idea, but Leila is the only one who came to your mind at that time.

“My feelings about a girl I’ve been in love with forever” you precise with a soft smile. “And that I really want to kiss again, because she’s the most beautiful sigh I’ve ever seen in the morning”

Steph rolls her eyes and smiles, before opening her arms for you. You don’t waste any time before cuddling against her, cupping her cheek before kissing her softly. And just like yesterday, you wouldn’t be able to describe what you feel at every kiss. But you just can’t get enough.

You stop at one point though, when your stomach groans with discontent. It makes Steph laugh and you hide your embarrassment in her neck. Your wild appetite is a big thing, known by a lot of people around you.

“How are you seeing things, back in London?” you ask while you are eating a toast from the meal tray you request at the room service.

“I’m still looking for a flat, I’m living with Beth now and even if Calvin and Myle are great friends I can’t wait to have my own flat”

You nod while looking straight in front of you, munching your toast slowly. You love Steph’s dog, but like everyone around. He’s the best honestly. But that wasn’t really what you were referring to. Steph kept Calvin with her after her breakup, giving it to Dean when she’s away like those days in Australia.

“I’m looking for something in St-Albans, but I could look a little more eastbound maybe?”

You side-eyes her, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile and you can’t keep yours at bay. Maybe she knows you better than you thought, or maybe she can read you better than you thought.

“That’s a great idea. Like this I could take you easier on a date”

“Oh, do you now?”

She pinches your ribs, making you squeak and almost throw the trail away. After a not very fair tickles fight, you finish on your back with Steph lying on you. You totally could get used to that. It’s Steph's turn to stroke your hair now and you take a look at her before asking what you have in mind.

“Will you say yes? To go on a date with me?”

“Of course. I didn't kiss you last night for nothing. But would you mind taking things slow? I mean – sorry for bringing him now – but I’m not separated for a long time, and I’ve never been with a girl before”

“We will go as slow as you want” you promise her before kissing her.

You feel her smile against your lips as if the feeling of your kiss is as good as it is for you. You like the idea, to be honest.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Steph whispers and you just hum in answer, distracted by her caresses on your arms.

“I’ve always had a crush on you, but before last night I was saying to myself that it wasn’t something serious. But when I realised yesterday that you might be into me… I don’t know it’s like everything made sense”

“Do you want to know a secret too?” you smirk when she nods “I’ve been in love with you for years. That is the reason why you never saw me fond of someone. It was because I’m fond of you.”

“I love this explanation”

She smiles at you, and you find it hard to breathe easily when she smiles and looks at you like that. You don’t mind hiding your relationship for some time if this is what she needs or waiting for her to be ready to take some steps together. As long as it’s you and her, that’s all that matters.

Next Chapter

[jaggedamethyst]

disappearing act (jayce talis x f!reader)

2.7k words

content/warnings: jayce is in a strained relationship as a result of his work...and his sudden disappearance(s).

18+ minors dni; smut, rough sex, angst (my specialty), unprotected p in v, jayvik sprinkles, strained relationship, argument + lack of communication as a result, jayce being a meanie/dedicated scientist

notes: i feel bad that there's no addition to golden boy at the moment, so here's something else for the jayce girlies that i have been thinking about. once again, incredibly sad...but you love it.

full masterlist linked here

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The relationship you had with Jayce was one of the few things you could rely on. With his work, Jayce Talis may be considered brash—stubborn even. With you, though, he was the epitome of understanding. He watched you often, a careful eye on you. Relying so heavily on the products of scientific experiments, he seldom acted in a way that was proven to yield negative results. That was until he let the work consume him. 

You were always supportive, he’d said as much. You were there to offer an ear, reassurance, and love to the man who needed it so much. He often recounted the story of his mother being saved by magic, a new detail finding its way into the narrative every time. It was then that you understood Jayce’s need to expose the world to this technology. To afford people the opportunity he was so graciously given—to protect people they love. 

Tensions were rising in Piltover and Zaun. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening; Jayce told you as much as he felt was necessary. As a member of the council, there was so much to take on. You could see the stress. In the last few weeks he’d become distant, reluctant to even make eye contact with you. At the time you’d usually meet one another, he avoided you. So much was going wrong, yet you couldn’t find the right words. There seemed to be nothing you could say to comfort him. A feeling of failure sat within you, almost overwhelming the love you had for him. You started to question the man you’d often taken at face value. He wasn’t himself, no, he was something else entirely. 

You sat alone, jotting down notes. There was nothing of particular interest there—but you had to keep busy these days. You perked up at the sound of Jayce entering the room, your shoulders immediately slumping at the prospect of knowing him so well that you knew it was him without a look back. 

His voice broke the silence, “Hi.” 

That was all you really got from him, greetings in passing. This time, it was to pick up a tool he’d left. You sighed, waving a hand at him, knowing that if it was up to him he wouldn’t see you at all today. 

He spoke again, “Thanks.” He showed a specific sized wrench that he loved. You weren’t entirely sure how it got here, but you knew the gratitude he showed was true. If he took nothing else seriously at the moment, he’d always been nose-first into his work. His venture toward progress. 

You nodded at his thanks to you, resuming your work. 

He left his back to you, “I’m working with Heimerdinger again.” 

This surprised you. Both the mention of his former mentor as well as the continued conversation. “Really?” You spun around in your chair, back to your desk. 

He turned to face you, “He has a new protégée, this kid. I’m sure I’ve seen him before…around…but he needs help.” 

“So you’re helping him,” you smiled. It was earnest. There was a warmth there, a passing thought that he might return to himself—a man motivated by care. 

He nodded, “So what’s occupying your time? More of that meaningless writing you do?” He chuckled and motioned toward your open book. 

You twisted the corner of your lips, stunned by the way his words pierced you. For no reason, you might add. A dry chuckle left your throat, echoing his. You deliberately responded lowly, looking toward the floor, “Wouldn’t have to do meaningless writing if my boyfriend had actually been around for once.” 

It was his turn to curl his lip in irritation, “You know what I’m doing is important-“

“And yet there’s nothing to show for it.” 

“That is not fair.” He stepped further into the room, “It takes years to replicate and master the technology I’m working on. Viktor and I have been at this for years, surely you understand that getting it right takes precedent.” 

You nodded, understanding now. “Precedent over your relationship, got it.” You turned and slammed your book shut. His footsteps approached you and you stood in return, meeting his surprisingly close glare at you. 

“You know thats not what I meant-“ 

“Isn’t it, though?” 

“No, its just that…” 

“Just what?” 

He sighed, no words finding him. He couldn’t really explain what it was, exactly. Part of him felt as if you were right—that maybe he did think much less of you than he thought. That perhaps he’d become so accustomed to the havoc, the time with his partner, and the inconsistency of research. He searched his brain, landing on the fact that he was addicted to the high science bought to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you. It was simply that like you said, he wasnt around. 

“Maybe you should go.”

His mouth was agape, realizing he failed to answer. He tried to call out to you, your name leaving his lips in a plea. You just needed time. His brows drooped, a defeated look over his body. He backed away, before turning towards the door. He stopped at the door frame, grasping it, the closest he’d been to latching onto you. “I’m sorry.” Then, he rounded the corner and was gone. 

A few months passed. You didnt expect that when Jayce left, he’d seemingly disappear into thin air. When you found out that another boy, Ekko, along with Heimerdinger were also gone—you connected the dots. You weren’t sure what to do, if there was anything to be done. You weren’t dumb, but to Jayce or Viktor’s level of intelligence…you’d found yourself feeling inadequate. It was just your luck, too, that the one person who could help you was nowhere to be found. His partner, one you could tell Jayce loved so much—had vanished. 

There were a few times where you examined their work area. You searched for anything to make sense of the loss. There was nothing. Like clockwork, you would end your search in tears, frantically clawing at the leftover notes and tools. When you couldn’t sleep, you would sneak into Jayce’s bed. The scent of him enveloped you. The tears would come, again, soaking his pillows. You’d later grown disgusted with yourself—the lack of composure. Your sensitivity only removed Jayce further from you; his presence no longer lingered. The smell of him had dissipated. You were beyond devastated. The yearn to have the entirety of the world to open up and swallow you whole was immense. 

You resumed your meaningless writing. In the time Jayce had been gone, you went through two entire notebooks. You cried into a lot of the pages, leaving them impossible to write on. In others you poured out every emotion you felt—chronicling every detail. 

He often found you in your dreams. Few times, you’d offer your mind the comfort of loving him again. Most times, however, you would torture yourself with a recounting of your last conversation. You would try to change what you said, how little you did…but the outcome was always the same. He would always leave you. 

The sound of his familiar footsteps haunted you. Someone would approach you, the rhythm slightly off, but enough to get your hopes up every time. Tonight had been the same, people passing, none being the one you wanted the most. You laid in bed, gaze to the ceiling. You didn’t really have much on your mind, outside of Jayce Talis—again. 

Footsteps approached, again, not him. These were heavier, irregular. It sounded as if one of them dragged. Your face twisted, a disdain filling you. It was enough. You turned, angling your back towards the door and the sound of the unfamiliar footsteps. 

You arched a brow, hearing your door open and close. You angled your neck, not caring who it was but needing the time to yourself. “Whoever that is, please…go away.” 

There was a pause, then a voice. “Still stubborn.”

Your breath hitched, your body turning to confirm whether or not you’d actually well and truly lost your mind. It couldn’t be, not after all this time. 

“Jayce.” It wasn’t a question, as much as you thought it would be. It was true, he was there—albeit entirely different. His hair had grown longer, easily passing his ears. The twinkle in his eye was completely gone. His facial hair had grown. The man that you knew wasn’t here, this was the residual shell—a combination of leftover pieces of himself that had been discarded. 

You crawled off of the bed, scrambling to him. You observed him briefly, taking in the details of him, before jumping into a hug. The scent you loved so much, that comfort that long left you, rested beneath a swell of ash and grime. He reluctantly raised his hands. You waited for the feeling of him embracing you back, but it didn’t come. You felt his palms instead, grasping your face. His eyes peered into yours, a hand dropping so that only one held you now. As you leaned into his single hand on you, he maneuvered his thumb. He brushed over your lips briefly. His grip then fell just underneath your chin. He let his thumb squeeze into you, pinching your cheeks slightly before nudging your face. 

He wasn’t the same. You didn’t care. He moved toward you, causing you to lean into your bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down slowly. You looked up at him, not needing to exchange words with him. It had been too long.

All reason left you; you were sure that there was never any in this Jayce’s mind. You quickly reached for his pants, undoing the button and zipper as he simultaneously maneuvered for yours. You paused, only resuming when you were completely bare on the bottom. You could see him, pleading to be released from the confines of his pants. You reached at his waist, pulling his pants and underwear down. You were startled when they didn’t go down fully. Your gaze dropped, noticing the brace on his leg. The single pant leg had caught the metal. He huffed, the cold air finally sweeping against him. The sensation was enough to make him hiss—the slight drip of precum forming on him. 

He leaned you into the bed, circling your entrance immediately. There wasn’t time for prep, you two had already lost so much time together. He thought of you every day. At one point, he’d found a rock, etching what he struggled to remember of your face into the wall. Before he could think to eat, before he could save himself—he thought of you.

You deserved more than this. What he was about to do. But as he looked back at you and saw the pleading in your eyes, he knew you needed this. You needed him. 

Without further thought, he plunged into you. You gasped at the resistance—your insides tighter than normal. It burned, Jayce pushing all of him completely into you. The pain was nothing compared to the mental abuse you had endured. This pain was worth it, you reasoned. At least, now, the pain was inflicted by Jayce—here.

He started his pace into you. Tears collected in your eyes, from both the overwhelming emotion and the way his hips snapped into you. He yanked you back towards him, a slapping resonating through the room. His eyes closed, brows furrowed. You noticed this, reaching to rub his arm that rested on your waist. His eyes opened immediately, looking at your hand on him. The gesture more than he deserved. He pulled out of you then, reaching to pump his hand up and down himself. 

He spoke, finally, “Flip.” 

You did so without question. Your chest found the bed, head leaning to the side. The bed was a bit taller than you and it left you on your toes. You fought to stabilize yourself—wanting to do whatever it was that he needed. He spread your legs, ramming into you without warning. The force of him pushing into you had you whining. A yelp escaped you with every thrust, the feeling of him relieving a desire that had built up in you since he left. Your feet eventually lifted from the floor completely, your arms gripping into the blankets. Jayce had the entire bed and its posts rocking. The squeaking, groaning, and slapping was entirely disgusting and quite reflective of your relationship now. The ordeal was desperate, pulling at each other until you fell apart. 

You circled your hips into the firmness of the mattress. Your clit found the friction in exactly the right way. Behind you, Jayce found your hips, gripping at your flesh like you’d disappear if he didn’t. It wasn’t long before you came, face down ass up onto Jayce. You felt a pool of wetness escaping you, dripping beneath you. He sighed at the extra lubrication, speeding up even more. He worked you through his own release, filling you to the brim.

He collapsed onto your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck, the stubble on his jaw, and hair fraying onto your ear was entirely new. You remained motionless, afraid for the moment to end. It did, though, Jayce pulling out of you. He rubbed your ass briefly, before pulling his pants up and straightening himself. You pulled yourself fully onto the bed, grabbing your underwear and a throw blanket to lay over your bottom half of your body. 

An expectant look was on your face. You dreamed of the day he would come back—return to you. You hadn’t expected it to be so wordless. You watched the man inch his way towards his hammer. It looked different than you remembered, flurries of color attached to it. It was somewhat eroded, too. You frowned at that. There was a clear resemblance here, the disfigurement an emulation of the relationship between you being completely different than when you first met. 

“What happened to you?” 

He leaned down now, fatigue catching up to him. “That thing I was working on-“ 

“With Heimerdinger…and…Ekko-“ 

“Yes.” He paused, a choked sob bursting from him immediately. “I-I was lost. Lost you.” 

You tried to stand, move to him, but he raised a hand to stop you. The act was a warning, like he didn’t need you near him. As if he didn’t want you to get hurt. It made you grasp the blanket more firmly. 

He continued, “I have to finish this.” 

The thought crossed your mind. To ask him what it was he had to do besides be with you was on the edge of your tongue. Question why, you thought. Not even a second later you realized that despite his appearance, he wasn’t so different, really. Jayce was always on a mission. He chased a feeling you could never replicate for him. 

So you didn’t let the question linger between you. “Just come back to me.” 

He stood, glancing at his wrist. You noticed the shine of blue there, interlocking with his very being. He nodded, conviction in his words. “I will. I can’t fail…not at this.” 

With a hobble in his step, he moved toward the exit. 

You didnt call out to him. He didn’t turn around for a second glance. With every day that passed, you wished so bad that one of you had. You weren’t entirely sure if what Jayce did—disappearing again, was considered a failure. But you knew the man. It was for a reason. 

It took you a while to come to terms with what happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to visit the site for days. As the Sun rose one morning, yet another night of no rest on you…you slipped out of the bed. There was determination in your walk. You made the trek out to where the destruction was. There was machinery you’d never seen strewn all over the trail. You grimaced, following the natural line of sight. You saw it, then, Jayce’s hammer. You moved with determination. As you approached, you immediately collapsed beside it. There was nothing left of him. He was gone. Entirely this time.

You reached for the handle of the man’s creation, cradling it as if it were him. Your lips wobbled, a cry threatening to fall from you. You gasped for air. “No…” You shook your head, whispering, “Jayce…” 

[moonselune]

Requests! This one is a little specific to my own character and story but I'll send it in anyway.

But the reactions to a reader/Tav who appears to be, and calls themselves a teifling, but is actually a true half devil/chambon(spelling unsure!). And they did not want the others to find out for very valid reasons of being killed or left alone.

oh hells yeah (literally)

Karlach:

The air around the campfire was tense, the warm glow of flames doing little to counteract the icy dread Raphael’s revelation had left behind. His smug grin lingered in your mind, even after he’d vanished, leaving the group stunned and silent.

“You’re not a tiefling,” his voice had purred moments ago, dripping with mockery. “But a cambion. How delightful. Tell me, how does it feel to lie so boldly to the very people who trust you?”

You’d lunged at him, your rage burning hotter than the flames of Avernus itself, but he’d disappeared in a swirl of smoke and laughter before you could lay a hand on him.

Now, the only sound was the crackling fire and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. All eyes were on you, but the weight of Karlach’s gaze was the heaviest. Her lips were slightly parted, her fiery eyes wide as if pieces of a puzzle had just clicked into place.

“I knew it,” Karlach finally said, her voice breaking the silence. She ran a hand through her short, wild hair, her tone tinged with equal parts wonder and tension. “I knew there was something… different about you. I just thought I was losing my mind.”

Your heart clenched, dread pooling in your stomach. “Karlach—”

“No, just let me say this.” She stepped forward, her eyes searching yours. “I knew you were pretending to be burned by me before Dammon fixed me up. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to believe I could be wrong about you.”

Her words hit like a blow, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. The group around you faded into the background as the moment crystallized between the two of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. Your throat tightened.

“Why would I?” you shot back, your tone defensive but tinged with pain. “I’ve heard you, Karlach. I’ve heard what you’ve said about cambions. You’ve never had a kind word for one, not even by accident. So what was I supposed to do? Risk telling you the truth and hope for the best? Best case, you’d walk away. Worst case—” Your voice caught, and you gestured helplessly. “Worst case, you’d try to kill me.”

Karlach flinched as if struck, her fiery core dimming for a moment. Her expression twisted with guilt and something deeper, but you couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. Turning on your heel, you began to walk away, the weight of years of hiding and fear pressing down on your shoulders.

“Hey, wait—no. Stop,” Karlach’s voice rang out, firm and commanding. Before you could take another step, her strong hand caught your arm, spinning you back around to face her.

You braced yourself for anger or rejection, but instead, Karlach’s face was raw with emotion.

“I’d never do that to you,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Not you. Don’t you get it? I… I love you.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your heart skipping a beat. You stared at her, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but her fiery eyes held only sincerity.

“You love me?” you echoed, barely able to believe it. Karlach let out a shaky laugh, her grip on your arm tightening.

“Yeah, I do, you big idiot. Do you think I care about what you are? After everything we’ve been through? I don’t care if you’re a cambion, a tiefling, or something else entirely. You’re you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

The tension in your chest began to loosen, a wave of relief crashing over you.

“I thought you’d hate me,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hate you?” Karlach’s laugh was incredulous, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How could I ever hate you? You’re the best damn thing that’s happened to me since I crawled out of Avernus. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face against her shoulder. Her embrace was immediate, fierce and grounding, her strong arms holding you close as if she’d never let go.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you murmured against her, your voice muffled but heartfelt.

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your heart began to lift. You weren’t alone anymore, and Karlach’s love burned brighter than any fire—enough to light a way forward.

Minthara:

The air around the group was thick with tension, Raphael's sardonic laughter echoing in your mind long after he disappeared. The devil had revealed your secret with theatrical flair, his grin widening as he relished the fallout.

“A tiefling?” he had mocked. “Hardly. You, my dear, are a cambion. How quaint, masquerading among the mortals as one of them. Hiding your true nature, like a wolf pretending to be a lamb. It’s almost endearing.”

Fury had surged through you at his smugness, and you’d lunged at him, claws bared, only for him to vanish in a swirl of crimson smoke. You turned back to the group, your chest heaving, only to meet Minthara’s piercing gaze.

She was furious. No, furious didn’t even begin to cover it. Her crimson eyes blazed with a feral intensity, and her lips curled in a snarl as she stalked toward you, her movements predatory.

“You’ve been a cambion this entire time?!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the uneasy silence like a blade.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Minthara raised a hand, silencing you with a sharp gesture.

“No, don’t even start. Let me understand this—you, a cambion, willingly chose to hide your devilish heritage? To mingle with these lesser beings? To pretend to be one of them?” Her voice rose with each word, dripping with incredulity and frustration. “People should be fearing you, revering you, bowing before your power! And yet, you’ve been skulking around, playing pathetic? Playing mortal?”

Despite her anger, you couldn’t help the small, amused smirk that tugged at your lips. Typical Minthara. She didn’t care that you were supposedly the embodiment of infernal evil. She wasn’t disgusted or horrified. No, her ire was purely about the fact that you hadn’t been owning it.

“I—” you began, but she cut you off again, pointing a sharp finger at your chest.

“Do not dare try to justify this farce to me,” she snapped. “You’ve been hiding your power like some frightened child, and for what? To blend in? To appease these creatures who should be groveling at your feet?”

You raised your hands in surrender, half in an attempt to calm her and half to stifle your growing laughter.

“Minthara, things have been complicated,” you said, your tone placating. “The tadpole changed everything. I had to play along, keep a low profile. I would have been killed in this weakened state. It wasn’t exactly optional.”

Minthara’s gaze narrowed, but some of the fire in her eyes dimmed. She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded you.

“Fine. I understand that,” she said, though her tone was begrudging. “But once that parasite is gone, you will drop this act. You will reclaim your place in the hellish hierarchy where you belong.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A deep, genuine laugh that bubbled up from your chest, breaking through the tension like sunlight piercing through clouds. Minthara’s glare sharpened.

“Are you mocking me?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head, though the grin on your face remained. “I promise, once this is over, I’ll stop playing mortal. I’ll claim my place, for both of us.”

Minthara’s lips quirked into a predatory smile, her earlier anger shifting into something more possessive, more calculating.

“Good,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. “Not only do you deserve to rule, but I deserve it as well. After all, you are my partner, and what is yours is mine.”

She stepped closer, her fingers tracing along your jawline, her red eyes glinting with wicked delight.

“Don’t make me remind you of that again,” she murmured, her voice a seductive threat.

You chuckled, your hands settling on her waist. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lae'zel:

The campfire crackled, the warmth doing little to thaw the sudden chill that Mizora’s revelation had brought. Her words hung in the air, sharp and gleeful, cutting deeper than any blade.

“Not a tiefling, no, but something much more… intriguing,” Mizora had drawled, her devilish smirk twisting with delight. “A cambion. How quaint, hiding your true nature. But then again, deception is second nature to our kind, isn’t it?”

Rage surged through you. Without thinking, you lunged at her, your claws reaching for that infuriating smirk. But Mizora, ever the tease, vanished in a puff of sulfur and laughter, leaving you empty-handed and seething.

You turned back to the group, your chest heaving, only to see Lae'zel staring at you with a look that was equal parts confusion and anger. Her amber eyes burned into yours, demanding answers.

“What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, stepping closer, her posture tense and unyielding. “You are not what you claimed to be?”

The others watched in awkward silence, unsure whether to intervene, but you couldn’t focus on them. All you could see was Lae’zel, her expression a storm of betrayal and hurt.

“I can explain,” you started, your voice shaky but resolute. “The group—none of you—would have trusted me if you knew. Cambions don’t exactly have the best reputation. You would have killed or abandoned me.”

Lae’zel’s gaze narrowed, and she stepped even closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You think I care about the others’ trust? About their fragile perceptions? I do not. What I care about is why you did not tell me.”

Her words struck you like a physical blow, and for a moment, you were at a loss. You searched her face, seeing not just anger but something deeper—hurt, vulnerability.

“Lae’zel, I—” you began, but she cut you off with a sharp gesture.

“Do not insult me with excuses,” she snapped. “You thought me too weak to handle the truth? Too insignificant to share your secret with? Am I just another lesser to you?”

“No!” you exclaimed, your voice rising in desperation. “That’s not it at all. I didn’t tell anyone because I was scared. Scared of what they’d think, of what they’d do. And… I didn’t tell you because… because I was afraid you’d see me differently.”

Lae’zel’s expression softened, but only slightly. She tilted her head, her eyes searching yours. “Differently? I am no stranger to infernal blood, to power, to darkness. Do you think I would turn from you because of what you are?”

You hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. “I didn’t know what you’d think. What if you saw me as a liar? Or worse, an enemy?”

Lae’zel let out a sharp breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“I do not care that you are a cambion,” she said firmly. “What I care about is that you did not trust me enough to tell me. You are my partner, my equal. I do not take betrayal lightly.”

You took a step closer, your voice soft but resolute. “It wasn’t about trust, Lae’zel. It was about fear. But you’re right—I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze locked with yours. Then, with a small nod, she spoke, her tone less harsh but still firm. “See that it does not happen again. You are mine, and I will not be kept in the dark.”

You nodded, relief washing over you as some of the tension between you eased. “I promise.”

Lae’zel’s lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Good. Now, let us return to camp before Mizora’s poison lingers too long. And know this—I will be watching you closely, but not because I doubt you. Because you are worth watching.”

Her words warmed you, and as the two of you walked back to the fire, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Shadowheart:

The campfire crackled softly, casting long, flickering shadows across the clearing as the group settled in after a long day. The air was filled with quiet chatter and the occasional clink of tankards—until Mizora decided to strike.

The devil’s voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere like a blade. Her tone was honeyed, but the malice beneath was unmistakable.

“Oh, what an interesting little secret our dear friend has been keeping,” Mizora purred, a smirk curling her crimson lips. “Not a tiefling at all. No, something far more… illustrious. A cambion, like me! How deliciously deceitful.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Your heart dropped into your stomach as the group’s attention snapped to you. Anger surged, hot and unrelenting, drowning out the myriad of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Without thinking, you lunged at Mizora, fury written in every taut line of your body.

But, as expected, she vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving behind only her taunting laughter. You stumbled to a stop, chest heaving as your rage sought an outlet. Spinning on your heel, you faced the group, already bracing for their judgment.

Shadowheart stood apart from the others, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silver-streaked hair caught the firelight, making her look both ethereal and grounded—a sharp contrast to the pointed irritation on her face.

Her gaze bore into you, unreadable and intense.

“You’re a cambion,” she said flatly, her voice cold but controlled. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

The accusation stung more than you expected, and your defenses rose like a shield.

“Oh, and you were so upfront about being a Sharran?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Shadowheart’s expression flickered, a mix of irritation and something softer. Her arms uncrossed, but her stance remained firm.

“That’s not the same,” she said, her voice clipped. “I told you eventually. And I didn’t have to be outed in front of everyone.”

“Sure,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your tone. “Because it’s so easy to walk into a group and say, ‘Hi, I’m half-devil. Don’t mind me, I’m definitely not here to corrupt your souls or drag you to the Hells.’ I’m sure that would’ve gone over great and wouldn't have ended with a dagger in my back.”

Her lips twitched despite herself, and for a moment, you thought she might actually laugh. But instead, she sighed and shook her head, her fingers brushing through her hair in a gesture of exasperation.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though the irritation in her voice had softened.

“And you’re a hypocrite,” you countered, though there was no real venom in your words. The tension between you had already begun to shift, the sharp edges dulled by the strange, shared understanding that seemed to define your bond.

Shadowheart tilted her head, her expression caught between frustration and amusement.

“I suppose that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it?” she said dryly, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her teasing.You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

“I guess it does,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth lifting into a faint smile. “A Sharran and a cambion—what could possibly go wrong?”

Shadowheart stepped closer, her silver eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Plenty,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. “But I think we’ll manage.”

The firelight danced between you as silence settled, comfortable and charged. Then, with a soft sigh, Shadowheart reached out and took your hand. Her fingers were warm against yours, grounding and steadying.

“Next time,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm, “just tell me. You don’t have to hide from me.”

You hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. Then, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“Deal,” you said simply.

Her smile in return was faint but genuine, a glimmer of warmth breaking through her reserved exterior. The two of you turned back toward the group, their gazes still heavy with curiosity and wariness. Shadowheart’s presence beside you was a silent reassurance, a reminder that, for all your secrets and fears, you weren’t alone.

Jaheira:

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing as the group gathered for a rare moment of respite. Conversations ebbed and flowed, but Mizora's smug voice sliced through the calm like a blade.

“Oh, my, what an intriguing little secret to oust,” Mizora drawled, her lips curling into a devilish smirk. “Our dear friend here isn’t a tiefling at all. No, no. A cambion, in the flesh. What a delightful game you’ve been playing.”

The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes turned to you, their gazes a mixture of shock, curiosity, and unease.

Your heart pounded in your chest as anger surged, hot and unrelenting. Without thinking, you lunged at Mizora, but she was gone before you could reach her, vanishing in a puff of sulfuric smoke that lingered mockingly in the air.

When you turned back, your gaze fell on Jaheira. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but heavy with thought. For a moment, you expected her to say something—anything—but instead, she shook her head and walked away.

Her retreat cut deeper than Mizora’s reveal. The sting of abandonment, of rejection, seared through you. You stood there, frozen in place, watching as she disappeared into the forest. You knew this would happen and yet it didn't hurt any less.

The minutes ticked by, each one amplifying your frustration and hurt. When Jaheira finally returned, her expression was calmer, her stride deliberate. But the moment you saw her, your annoyance boiled over.

“So that’s it?” you snapped, folding your arms across your chest. “You hear something you don’t like, and you just walk away? From me?”

Jaheira’s brows knit together, a flicker of guilt flashing across her face.

“I needed time,” she said, her voice steady but laced with sincerity. “Time to think.”

You scoffed, your anger mingling with the ache in your chest. “Time to think about what? If I was going to steal your soul?”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with tension. Then, Jaheira’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, and she chuckled softly.

“No,” she said, her voice warm and gentle. “I wasn’t worried about my soul. I was thinking about how you’ve already stolen my heart.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by her words. Jaheira stepped closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was both grounding and disarming.

“You infuriate me,” she continued, her tone soft but firm. “You keep secrets, you take risks, and you drive me to the brink of madness. But I love you, more than I ever thought possible.”

The anger that had been coiling in your chest unraveled, replaced by a warmth that spread through you like sunlight breaking through a storm.

“You… you love me?” you said, your voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. Jaheira’s smile widened, and she reached out to cup your cheek.

“Of course, I do,” she said simply. “Cambion or not, you are the person I chose. And I don’t regret that choice for a moment.”

Your throat tightened, emotion swelling within you as you leaned into her touch.

“I love you too,” you murmured, your voice thick with sincerity. Jaheira leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Then let’s not let Mizora—or anyone else—get between us,” she said, her tone gentle but resolute.

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Agreed. But next time, don’t walk away. Talk to me.”

Jaheira chuckled again, a low, warm sound.

“Next time, I’ll try,” she promised. “But you might need to give me a moment to collect my thoughts. You have a habit of throwing surprises at me.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving. Together, you turned back toward the campfire, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next—together.

Gale:

“Ah, the stalwart heroes!” Raphael drawled, striding through the inn’s double doors as if he owned the place. His crimson skin and tailored suit practically glowed in the faint light. “So gallant, so brave. And yet, so…deceptive.”

The group bristled, hands inching toward weapons. Shadowheart’s hand hovered near her symbol of Selune, while Lae’zel scowled deeply, her blade already partially drawn. Gale, seated beside you, stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the cambion’s every move.

“What are you doing here, Raphael?” you snapped, your voice sharp with anger. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Raphael smirked, his fanged teeth gleaming. “Trouble? My dear, I merely make deals. And speaking of deals…” His eyes flicked to Astarion, who looked away, his jaw tight. “Our little arrangement went splendidly. Isn’t that right, Astarion?”

The vampire spawn didn’t respond, his silence damning. He hadn't heard exactly what he wanted to hear.

“And it did bring to light an intriguing little detail about one of your companions here.” He continued as he turned to you, his smile widening. “Or should I say, one of my kin?”

The room froze. The words hung in the air like a dagger, poised to strike. Your blood ran cold as all eyes turned toward you.

“What are you talking about?” Gale demanded, his voice sharp and incredulous.

Raphael’s smirk deepened. “They’ve been masquerading as a tiefling, but the truth is far more interesting. They’re a cambion—just like me.” He tilted his head, studying you with mock curiosity. “Tell me, does it burn, pretending to be something so…ordinary?”

Fury erupted within you, hot and uncontrollable. You lunged at Raphael, your hand reaching for his throat, but he vanished in a swirl of smoke and brimstone before you could touch him. His laughter echoed through the room, mocking and cruel.

Breathing heavily, you turned back to face your companions. Gale’s expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief, his lips parted as if he were struggling to find the right words.

“Is it true?” Gale asked, his voice tight. “You’re a cambion?”

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching.

“Yes,” you admitted, the word barely more than a whisper.

Gale blinked, as if trying to process this revelation. Then his bewilderment turned to frustration, and he began pacing. “Unbelievable! Truly unbelievable. All this time? You’ve been a cambion this entire time? Do you know how—how staggering this is? The implications, the—”

“Oh, really?” you cut in, your voice rising. “Do you want to talk about staggering implications, Gale? Like, I don’t know, keeping a Netherese ticking time bomb in your chest?”

The words landed like a slap, and Gale froze mid-step. His face reddened, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Fair point,” he muttered. “But still, this is…unexpected.”

His tone softened as he stepped closer to you. “You could have told me,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You should have told me. I would have understood.”

“I didn’t know if you would,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know if any of you would. I thought you would leave me for dead.”

Gale’s expression softened further, and he placed his hands gently on your shoulders. “I won’t lie—this is a lot to take in. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re still you. The person I’ve come to care for deeply.”

Your breath hitched, and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased, if only slightly. After a moment, Gale’s lips quirked into a small, wry smile.

“You know,” he said, a teasing note in his voice, “I think I have a type. First, Mystra—a literal goddess—and now a cambion. Truly, my taste in lovers is nothing short of extraordinary.”

You let out a surprised laugh, some of the weight lifting from your heart. “A cambion you love more than the goddess, I hope?”

Gale chuckled, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oh, without question,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection. “The goddess never made me laugh like you do. Or challenge me. Or steal my heart quite as completely.”

You smiled against his chest, your arms tightening around him. “Good answer,” you murmured.

Astarion:

The cozy interior of Last Light Inn was momentarily at peace, the dim light from the lanterns casting warm shadows on the wooden walls. The group gathered near a table, recovering from their latest trial. Astarion was leaning casually against a chair, sipping some blood he had managed to find with that perpetual smirk on his lips, while you tried to focus on the conversation without getting distracted by him.

Then the doors swung open, and Raphael’s silky, mocking voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Well, isn’t this a cozy little gathering?” Raphael drawled, his crimson skin glinting under the inn’s dim lights. He strode in with an air of supreme confidence, his piercing gaze scanning the group. “A fine collection of misfits and secrets. Speaking of which..” He turned his attention to you, his smile growing sharper. “I’m here to reveal a rather… salacious secret about your companion.”

The tension in the room became palpable. Everyone’s gaze shifted to you, confusion and curiosity written on their faces.

“What are you on about now?” Shadowheart asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Oh, nothing too scandalous,” Raphael said, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Just that our dear tiefling here isn’t a tiefling at all.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. The group exchanged bewildered glances, and you felt your heart drop.

“What?” Karlach growled, her eyes narrowing.

Raphael’s smirk widened. “They’re not a tiefling. They’re a cambion. Like me. Infernal blood through and through.” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “I wonder, how long were you planning to keep that little tidbit hidden?”

Fury surged through you. Before you could think, you lunged at him, but Raphael vanished in a puff of cherry, musk and sulfur, his laughter echoing in the room.

When you turned back to face the group, your chest heaving with anger, your eyes immediately met Astarion’s. His expression was… unreadable at first. Then, slowly, he raised a hand to his chest in mock shock, clutching at an invisible set of pearls.

“A cambion?!” Astarion exclaimed, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. “I simply cannot believe it! All this time, you’ve been walking among us, hiding your true nature? The betrayal! The scandal!”

“Astarion,” you began, but he held up a hand, silencing you with a theatrical gasp.

“Don’t speak! I’m too overcome with emotion. How could I have been so blind?” He staggered back, pretending to reel from the revelation. “To think, I’ve been consorting with the offspring of devils! Oh, the shame! The intrigue!”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Astarion, please.”

He wasn’t done yet. He leaned against the table dramatically, looking at the others. “What will become of us? Can we trust them? Will they lead us into temptation? Or perhaps they’ll summon a horde of demons to devour us all!”

“Astarion,” you said more firmly, your irritation growing.

Finally, he dropped the act, standing up straight and letting out a laugh. “Oh, do relax, darling. I don’t care one bit.”

The sudden shift left you blinking in surprise. “You… don’t?”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. “Of course not. If anything, it makes you even more captivating than I already thought you were. A cambion? How deliciously exotic. It explains so much about you—your charm, your fire.” His lips curled into a sly smile. “You’re not just a lover, you’re practically temptation incarnate.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he countered, his voice dropping to a soft purr as he leaned in close. “I must say, I’ve always had a taste for the forbidden.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I suppose this means you’ll never let me live it down?”

“Never,” he said with a grin, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “But don’t worry. I think you wear your infernal heritage rather well.”

As the rest of the group began muttering amongst themselves, trying to process what had just transpired, Astarion slipped an arm around your waist.

“Come now, darling,” he whispered. “Let’s leave the dramatics to Raphael. I much prefer to focus on the more… enjoyable aspects of your devilish nature.”

Wyll:

The campfire crackled softly at the edge of the Last Light Inn, the warm glow flickering over your companions as everyone settled down for the evening. You leaned against a log, watching the group converse. Wyll was seated beside you, recounting tales of his heroics to an eager Karlach, who hung on every word. The air was light, a rare moment of peace.

Then, the scent of brimstone wafted through the camp, and the air turned heavy. Mizora stepped into the clearing, her elegant yet sinister presence drawing all eyes to her. Wyll immediately tensed, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his blade.

"Ah, my dear Blade of Frontiers," Mizora purred, her smile dripping with malice. "And the rest of you charming miscreants. What a delightful gathering."

"What do you want, Mizora?" Wyll growled, his voice hard.

She sauntered closer, her devilish grin widening. "Oh, nothing too disruptive. I just couldn’t resist sharing a delicious little secret about one of your companions." Her eyes gleamed as they locked onto you. "Tell me, Wyll, do you really think you know the one sitting beside you?"

Wyll frowned, his gaze darting to you briefly before returning to Mizora. "What are you talking about?"

Mizora’s smile turned razor-sharp. "Your so-called tiefling companion isn’t a tiefling at all. They’re a cambion. Like me."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. You felt your stomach drop as every pair of eyes turned to you. Wyll barked a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Ha! Very funny, Mizora. But even I’m not gullible enough to fall for that."

But when he turned to you, his laughter faltered. Your expression—tense, uneasy, silent—told him everything.

His eyes widened. "No," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re not…?"

Mizora clapped her hands together with a gleeful cackle. "Oh, this is priceless. I’ll leave you all to sort through this delightful mess. Enjoy." With a snap of her fingers, she vanished, leaving the camp in stunned silence.

Wyll turned fully toward you, his face a mixture of disbelief and something close to despair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned loudly, slumping forward as if the weight of the revelation had physically struck him.

"How do I do this to myself?" he muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. "Most people live their entire lives without encountering a single cambion. Me? I’m serving one and now… now I’m lying with another."

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. Tentatively, you reached out, patting his back awkwardly. "I… I’m sorry, Wyll."

He sighed, lowering his hands to look at you. His expression wasn’t angry, just deeply bewildered. "I mean, what are the odds? Twice? It’s like I’m cursed—or worse, drawn to you infernal types. Why couldn’t I have a nice, simple life like everyone else?"

A small laugh bubbled out of you despite the tension. "Simple doesn’t really suit you, Wyll."

He groaned again, but there was a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You might be right about that." He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "And you—you really are a cambion?"

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding. "I am. I… I was afraid to tell you. To tell anyone. I thought you’d look at me differently, kill or abandon me. I mean… most people don’t exactly trust devils."

Wyll gave a small, rueful chuckle, shaking his head. "If anything, this just proves how much of a fool I am. Because…" He hesitated, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Because I love you. Cambion or not."

Your breath caught. "You… you love me?"

He groaned again, covering his face with his hand as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said it. "Yes, I do. I must be losing my mind, but I do."

A soft smile spread across your lips as warmth flooded your chest.

"Oh, Wyll…" You leaned forward, cupping his face gently. "You’re not losing your mind. You’re just… you. And I love you for it."

Wyll dropped his hands and looked at you, his expression softening into something tender and vulnerable. He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly.

"Blade of Frontiers or not," he murmured, his voice low, "I’m your love first. Cambion or not."

You nestled into his arms, feeling safe despite everything. In that moment, it didn’t matter what you were or what secrets had come to light. You had Wyll, and he had you—and together, you could face anything.

Halsin:

The warm light of the campfire at Last Light Inn cast flickering shadows over your companions as everyone settled for the evening. The atmosphere had been jovial, with laughter and shared stories filling the night air. But that peace shattered when Raphael appeared, his presence commanding and unwelcome. His smirk gleamed in the firelight, his tone smug as he addressed the group.

“Well, well, dear adventurers,” Raphael began, his voice dripping with amusement. “It seems secrets abound in your merry band. Shall I share one, free of charge?”

Everyone tensed, weapons instinctively shifting closer. Your blood ran cold as Raphael’s gaze landed squarely on you.

“Oh, don’t look so startled,” he drawled, his smirk widening. “It’s not as though I’m revealing anything that you’ve been forthcoming about. Tell me, my dear tiefling… or should I say cambion?”

Your heart plummeted, the air around you thick with tension.

“You bastard,” you hissed, launching yourself at him, but Raphael merely snapped his fingers and vanished in a swirl of smoke and brimstone.

You landed hard on the ground, seething with fury and shame. When you looked up, the weight of your companions' stares bore down on you. Most faces were unreadable—shock, confusion, maybe even suspicion. But your gaze immediately sought Halsin, your newly kindled love.

He stood stoic, arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in thought. His silence was deafening, and panic surged through you. Scrambling to your feet, you rushed to him, desperation in your voice.

“Halsin, please, you have to understand,” you began, your words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to be born a cambion. I swear to you—I’ve only ever done what I needed to survive.”

His gaze was steady, but he said nothing, his silence fueling your growing fear.

“I have no warlocks,” you continued, your voice breaking. “No thralls, no imp army, nothing like that. I’m not like them. I’ve tried so hard to—” You stopped, choking on your words as tears began to blur your vision. “To be good. To do good.”

Your hands trembled as you clutched the front of his tunic, your voice cracking as you whispered, “Please, Halsin, I—I can’t lose you.”

He sighed deeply, the sound grounding you for a moment as his large hands came up to gently cradle your face. “Enough,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Breathe.”

You hiccupped, trying to steady yourself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Halsin’s thumbs brushed them away, his touch warm and soothing. His expression softened, and he leaned down so his forehead nearly touched yours.

“I believe you,” he said simply.

You froze, your breath hitching. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady and full of conviction. “I see no malice in your heart, no darkness that you haven’t already fought to overcome. I only wish…” He hesitated, his gaze searching yours. “I only wish you had been the one to tell me.”

Guilt twisted in your chest. “I was afraid,” you admitted in a whisper. “Afraid of how you’d look at me, what you’d think. That you may kill me for what I am."

His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a grounding rhythm against your ear.

“You need not fear me,” he murmured. “What you were born as does not define who you are now. And who you are, I love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you clung to him, the weight of your emotions spilling over.

“I hate him,” you muttered against his chest. “Raphael. I hate him for this.”

Halsin chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. “As do I,” he agreed. “He delights in chaos, but we won’t let him win. Not here, not now.”

He held you close, his embrace strong and unyielding. Slowly, the panic ebbed, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the strength of his belief in you.

This was so fun to write and icl in one of my runs i had my tav as a cambion romancing minthara just because i think that dynamic is just so fun. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[eimiette]

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: during a high-stakes stakeout, spencer reid and his partner turn their limited time into a distraction from the case at hand. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (ofc), quicky, piv sex, fingering, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl. this is my first spencer reid smut so b nice pls !! <3

the night had settled into a quiet lull, the kind of silence that stretched on and made time feel endless. you’d been parked outside the suspect’s house for hours, watching the shadows play tricks on your eyes while spencer sat beside you, deeply engrossed in a book he’d brought along—one that had nothing to do with the case.

you glanced over at him, unable to resist a little teasing. “you know, we’re supposed to be watching the house, not reading ‘war and peace’ for the millionth time.”

“it’s ‘the brothers karamazov’,” he corrected without looking up, his tone dry but familiar. “and i’ve only read it four times, not a million. it’s called multitasking.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right. because when i think of multitasking, i think of spencer reid reading existential russian literature while catching criminals.”

he looked up then, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here to broaden your definition of multitasking, isn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “sure, sure. meanwhile, i’m stuck doing all the actual work. keeping an eye out, staying alert… maybe you should take notes.”

he made a show of sighing, marking his place in the book before setting it down. “i hate to break it to you, but i’m perfectly capable of watching and reading at the same time. some of us can do more than one thing.”

“oh, is that so?” you arched a brow, leaning in slightly. “then tell me, genius, what’s happening at the suspect’s house right now?”

spencer paused, his gaze shifting to the darkened windows across the street, then back to you. “the lights in the living room went off about fifteen minutes ago. bedroom lights turned on shortly after, but no one’s left the house since then. there’s a dog barking a few houses down, and someone two blocks over keeps playing the same verse of ‘take on me’ on the piano. badly, i might add.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “okay, first of all, how do you even—never mind, i don’t want to know. and second, why would anyone ever play just one verse of ‘take on me’? what kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

spencer chuckled, a real laugh that lit up his face in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest. “now that’s the real mystery,” he agreed. “maybe we should call in a second team to handle it.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “only if they’re prepared for a psychological profile of a frustrated piano player. that’s definitely outside my area of expertise.”

“mine too, surprisingly,” he said, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “though i’m sure we could figure it out together.”

your smile matched his, and for a moment, the banter fell away. it was always like this—easy, comfortable, like you’d known each other forever. bickering was your default, but underneath it, there was something else. something steady. something you never quite acknowledged.

“hey,” you said, breaking the quiet but keeping your voice low, almost conspiratorial. “be honest. are you actually glad we got stuck on this stakeout together, or are you secretly wishing morgan was here instead?”

spencer tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, well, morgan wouldn’t keep up a running commentary of every single shadow that moves, so that would be a point in his favor.”

you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “you love my running commentary. admit it.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “okay, maybe i’d miss it a little,” he conceded. “just don’t let it go to your head.”

“i knew it!” you crowed, leaning closer with a triumphant smile. “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be, dr. reid. deep down, you actually like having me around.”

his smile turned softer, almost fond, as he met your gaze. “maybe more than i let on,” he said quietly, the teasing edge slipping from his voice.

“you know,” you murmured, voice just above a whisper, “for a genius, you can be pretty slow sometimes.” he turned a page slowly, clearly fighting back a smile. “you’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring a book.”

“why would i bring a book when i could spend my time annoying you?” you shot back, grinning when he finally glanced over at you, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“mission accomplished, then,” he replied dryly. “you’ve certainly succeeded in distracting me.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s a talent, what can i say?” you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more playful tone. “admit it—you like it when i distract you.”

he hummed, pretending to consider your words as he closed his book and set it on the dashboard. “i suppose it does have its perks,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you. his knee brushed against yours, a casual touch that sent a familiar thrill through you. there it was—the shift. you’d felt it countless times before, that subtle change in the air between you. it always started with harmless banter, a little back-and-forth that led to lingering touches, heated looks, and eventually, lips pressed together in the dark of the car or the shadows of a motel room. friends with benefits, that’s what you called it, though even that seemed too formal. it was more like an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that sometimes, the line between friends and something more blurred when the nights got long and lonely.

you arched an eyebrow at him, leaning in even closer. “and what perks would those be, exactly?”

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his smile turning a bit more mischievous. “the kind that gets me out of reading the same case notes for the third time.”

you chuckled, your heart picking up its pace as you closed the remaining distance between you. “if that’s what it takes to keep you from quoting tolstoy at me again…”

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were on yours, warm and insistent, like he’d been waiting for this. his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, but it still sent a shiver down your spine the way it always did. he kissed you like it was something he needed, not just something to pass the time.

you tilted your head, smiling against his lips. “so, is this how you imagined the stakeout going?”

he pulled back just enough to murmur, “it’s a pretty standard ending for us, don’t you think?”

you laughed softly, your breath mingling with his. “i guess we have a type, huh?”

“apparently,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as his thumb brushed along your jaw. “can’t say i’m complaining, though.”

you hummed in agreement, fingers finding their way into his hair as you brought his lips back to yours. “good. because i’d hate for you to get bored out here,” you whispered between kisses, your words half-teasing, half-sincere.

“i can think of worse ways to spend a stakeout,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his lips trailed down to your neck, and you let your head fall back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

you felt spencer’s lips brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his kisses were warm and deliberate, a welcome distraction from the long hours of the stakeout. you leaned into his touch, but a nagging thought pulled at the edge of your mind, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

“spence,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “should we really be doing this right now? i mean, we’re on a stakeout. there’s a chance the unsub could show up any minute.”

spencer’s eyes flickered with amusement, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “oh, come on,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “we’ve been monitoring this place for hours. we’ve got approximately 48 minutes before the unsub’s next predicted move.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to read his expression. “48 minutes? and how do you know that?”

he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “based on the patterns of his previous crimes, the time between his actions has been pretty consistent. it’s a safe bet we’ve got a little leeway.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “so, you’re telling me that you’ve calculated the exact amount of time we have before we need to get back to being all business? kinda sexy you’ve calculated the timing on this out i must say..”

spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. “sexy? you find profiling talk sexy?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yeah, it’s like you’re making crime analysis sound intriguing and… well, a little hot.”

he chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that sent a thrill through you. “i’ll have to remember that. maybe i should include more of that in my briefing sessions.”

you grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “just don’t let the team catch on. we don’t need them getting ideas.”

spencer’s fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt, his touch lingering with a hint of teasing. “you think they’d actually believe it’s my secret weapon?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smirk, helping him with his shirt. “morgan would probably have a field day with that.”

spencer’s shirt joined yours on the floor as he flashed a mischievous grin. “if that happens, it’s on you. you’re the one who brought up the idea of sexy profiling.”

“guilty as charged,” you said, pushing his trousers down with a playful nudge. “but you have to admit, you’ve got a way of making it sound pretty compelling.”

he raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “compelling, huh? is that the new standard for our stakeouts?” “maybe,” you said, leaning in closer. “or maybe it’s just a nice change of pace.”

spencer’s lips curved into a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands sliding around your waist. “i can live with that.” you responded with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers brushing against his chest as you shifted closer. with a confident move, you straddled his lap, your body aligning perfectly with his. the shift brought you eye to eye, a spark of heat dancing between you. spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips as he adjusted to the new closeness. “i see you’re not wasting any time,” he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble.

you chuckled softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “why wait? we’ve got a limited window here.”

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips. as he adjusted to the new closeness, his fingers slowly slid down, grazing the fabric of your skirt. the sensation of his touch against your skin made you shiver with anticipation. his hands wandered gently, exploring the curve of your hips and the edges of your skirt. his touch was light but deliberate, moving with an almost curious intensity as he traced the contours of your body. you could feel his fingers inching upwards, brushing softly against the bare skin of your thighs.

you pouted, a playful frown tugging at your lips as you looked down at him. “you’re really going to tease me like this?”

spencer met your gaze with a mix of amusement and warmth. “need you to use your words pretty girl.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips. “oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

he nodded, his touch growing more deliberate but still teasingly slow. “absolutely. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, the playful challenge clear in your eyes. “i want you to stop teasing and actually—”

before you could finish, spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his hands continued their exploration. his touch finally met your soaked core over your underwear, sending a jolt of sensation through you. his whisper against your lips was soft but insistent. “use your words. tell me exactly what you want.”

you parted your lips, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. “touch me… please.”

spencer’s eyes darkened with desire as he heard your plea. his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear, meeting the dampness of your core. he let out a low curse, his breath hitching. “fuck, you’re so wet. i should really explain the time management of our cases and unsub patterns more often if-” realizing he was losing focus, spencer shifted his attention back to you. he let out a soft curse, his fingers slipping inside you with a deliberate, smooth motion. the sudden, intimate contact made you gasp, the sensation warm and intense. spencer's fingers moved with a focused precision, sliding inside you with a smooth, deliberate motion. the warmth of his touch and the rhythmic pressure made your breath hitch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sensation intensified.

he pressed his fingers deeper, his hand moving with a steady, measured rhythm. each thrust was controlled and purposeful, designed to maximize the pleasure that rippled through you. his palm rested firmly against your core, the heat from his hand mingling with the warmth of your skin.

as you whimpered softly, your breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, spencer leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. his thumb brushed lightly against you, adding a delicate pressure that made you whine again, the sound filled with both need and satisfaction.

you bit your lip, struggling to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “spence… i want to feel you. i want—”

he cut you off gently, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “i know. just give me a moment.” his fingers continued their rhythmic dance, his touch a tantalizing blend of warmth and pressure.

but as your need became more urgent, your voice grew more insistent. “please, i need to feel you inside me.”

spencer’s gaze grew more intense, filled with a deep, hungry longing, and he pulled his fingers away slowly, his expression a mix of affection and eagerness. “alright,” he said softly, his voice thick with desire. “i’m here.”

he reached into his wallet, retrieving a condom with a practiced ease. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he prepared it, a thought crossing his mind. it was probably because of you that he’d made it a habit to carry them during cases—an adjustment made in response to your playful insistence on being prepared. he tore open the wrapper and readied himself, then guided you gently but firmly into position. his hands were steady on your hips, helping you align perfectly.

as you settled into position, your breath quickening with anticipation, you glanced at him, a playful edge to your voice. “how much time do we have left?”

spencer’s eyes remained locked on yours as he checked the time. “forty minutes and thirty-two seconds—oh fuck.” the expletive slipped out as you slid onto him, the sudden, intense sensation making his breath hitch.

you leaned in closer, your breaths coming in short, heated bursts as you adjusted to the rhythm. the space between you was charged with electricity, each movement synchronized with a growing intensity.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with pleasure.

spencer’s fingers dug into your hips, his movements becoming more deliberate as he matched your pace. “so pretty like this…” he replied, his voice low and intense. “so fucking pretty.”

as the urgency and desire between you built, spencer’s breath quickened, his hands guiding you with a steady, firm grip. each thrust was met with a soft, satisfied gasp from you, the rhythm between you becoming a fluid, intimate dance.

“doing so good for me baby,” spencer murmured, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a heated, passionate intensity. his touch was everywhere—his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing along your sides.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. the car’s confined space only seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment, making each touch and movement feel more intense, more immediate.

with each passing second, the urgency of the situation only added to the thrill. spencer’s focus was entirely on you, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed you both towards the edge. “we’re almost there,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire and determination. “just a little longer.”

the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the urgency of the moment drove you both closer to the peak. the pleasure built steadily, every sensation amplified in the charged atmosphere. you could feel yourself unraveling, every nerve ending sensitized and every touch magnified. the sensation of him inside you was electrifying, a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you with each movement. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you felt yourself falling apart.

“spencer,” you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of the experience. your grip on his shoulders tightened, your entire body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak.

spencer’s eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of awe and desire reflected in his gaze. “i know, i know, i’m almost there,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. his hands moved with careful precision, his touch both guiding and responding to your reactions.

as the climax hit, you felt a powerful release, your body shuddering and trembling with the intensity of the moment. your voice broke into a series of breathless cries, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

as the intensity of the moment enveloped you, spencer’s grip tightened on your hips, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. the way you had fallen apart, your body trembling with pleasure, had driven him to the brink.

his movements became more urgent, his focus solely on the sensation of being inside you, feeling your warmth and responsiveness. you could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from focused desire to complete surrender. “god, i’m close,” he gasped, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and satisfaction. his hands moved more fervently, his rhythm driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

as you clung to him, your body still trembling from your release, spencer’s movements became erratic. the pleasure built within him until he could no longer hold back. with a series of deep, shuddering breaths, he finally came undone, his body shivering with the force of his climax.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. his hands still rested on your hips, holding you close as he rode out the final waves of his release.

as the intensity of the moment gradually faded, spencer’s touch softened. he pulled you close, his hands gently brushing over your skin as he helped you both come down from the high. his breath was still uneven, but his touch was tender and reassuring.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

you nodded, a contented smile forming. “yeah, i’m fine. you?”

spencer chuckled, slipping on his shirt. “well, we’ve got approximately 22 minutes to spare.”

you raised an eyebrow, pulling on your top. “and what are we going to do with those 22 minutes?”

he smirked, buttoning his jacket. “well, i could use a quick breather. maybe we can discuss how i should properly schedule my case briefings.”

you laughed, adjusting your clothes. “sounds like a plan. just make sure you don’t forget to factor in the importance of effective timing.” spencer’s grin widened as he straightened his collar. “duly noted. next time, i’ll make sure to account for every possible variable.”

-

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

[sailornymph]

hihi!! may we have first kiss/first date hcs for some naruto men (your choice!)

i really like your writing, thank you for doing my previous request <3

‘CINNAMON GIRL’

first date with sasuke, shisui, gaara, kakashi

author’s note : sorry for responding so late! your support is appreciated and thank you <3 i hope you don't mind that i went ahead and turned it into short pieces instead of hcs

♡ sasuke uchiha : first kiss

“i heard naruto and kiba talking about sasuke, he has officially moved back to konoha,” your best friend, hinata, told you.

“why are you telling me this, hinata?” you asked, as her face turned red. fidgeting with her fingers, she glanced at you.

“he asked naruto how were you,” she said.

“of course he did,” you frowned. he had some nerve, sure, he had his issues, but you were willing to support him through it all. you could easily let it all go, you were only children, when you began dating, but hearing how much none of you mattered to him, when he was with orochimaru wounded you.

waving at hinata as she entered the hyuga estate, you continued on your walk home. passing ichiraku’s ramen shop, you rolled your eyes, hearing naruto’s voice.

“was that y/n?” he asked, loudly. turning your head, you made eye contact with kiba before he moved his head back. they whispered amongst themselves when he revealed himself. sasuke uchiha approaches you in his usual dark apparel.

“y/n”

“sasuke,” you crossed your arms.

“would you like for me to walk you home?”

“you were going to do that anyway”

“not without your permission,” he shook his head, looking down. raising your eyebrows for a second, you were shocked. maybe hinata was right, he was actually on a road to redemption.

“i guess,” you mumbled, turning away.

“way to go, sasuke,” naruto cheered before he was shushed.

“i was told you asked about me,” you spoke up, as he silently followed you.

“it's been a while,” he answered.

“i wonder why”

“i’ve made mistakes, i am not proud of the path i’ve gone down, i'd like to make things right, including with you,” he said, shifting his eyes, his cheeks turning pink.

“i mean nothing to you, does that sound familiar?” he asked.

“yes,” he mumbled, unable to meet your eyes.

“you hurt me, all i wanted was you, i cried many nights, torn by what was said”

“i wish i could-

“did you mean it? those words you said that night?”

“i needed to hurt you, the best way i knew how, for you to let me go,” he admitted.

“but is that how you felt?”

“never, so many nights, i’d sit and think of when you'd visit me, bringing snacks or just to hang out. i missed you, but you couldn't go down the path i was headed”

“you're an idiot,” you sighed.

“i know,” he agreed.

“what have you been up to, since being back in the hidden leaf?”

“picking up missions, i actually leave in a few days, but i hoped we would run into each other before then”

“why?”

“so that i could…it’s nothing,” he said, continuing to walk you home.

in the comfortable silence, you felt stunned by the change in his character. he was mature, holding himself accountable, and he looked so handsome letting his hair grow.

“well, thanks,” you said, awkwardly, going to unlock your door. nodding, he turned to leave, as you faced him, watching as he left.

“hey sasuke,” you called out, taking big steps to get to him, as he turned around. practically leaping into his arms, you kissed his lips. instantly, his arm was around your waist, kissing you back.

“i wanted to take you somewhere when i return from my mission,” he confessed, as you pulled away.

“then it’s a date,” you nodded.

“see you then,” he whispered, watching as you turned to leaving, going back inside.

♡ shisui uchiha : first date

“there he is, he’s waiting for you,” your best friend, otsuni squealed, as you made your way into the uchiha compound. he leaned against a tree, talking to his friend, itachi when he suddenly looked your way.

feeling your face burning, you turned to otsuni, to avoid his gaze, but she only smiled at you.

“he’s coming this way,” she said, making you look. he said a few more words to itachi, the young boy nodding and walking away, as shisui approached you.

“y/n, how was the mission?” he asked.

“it was fine,” you shrugged as if you weren't screaming in excitement on the inside.

“i should get home, i’ll see you later, y/n,” otsuni said, waving.

“bye,” you said, before facing shisui.

“if i’m not mistaken, i was promised a date, when you returned,” he crossed his arms, a smirk on his lips.

“is that why you stood right by the gate? you were waiting for me?”

“what can i say, i’m excited,” he laughed, making your heart flutter.

“would you like ice cream?” he continued.

“sure,” you smiled, following him.

it felt like a dream, when shisui approached you, asking you on a date. you’d known him for as long as you could remember, being a part of the same clan, but you never associated with him. he had always been more advanced going on to become a jonin, while you remained a ch��nin.

you didn't think he was serious at first, questioning his motives, but he reassured you, saying how you had been in his mind as of lightly and you wouldn't get out of his thoughts, so he figured he could give it a chance.

“when will you test to become a jonin?” he asked, suddenly.

“i didn't really plan to, i’m not a prodigy like you”

“but you have what it takes and i could help you”

“i don't know…”

“i think you will do great”

“you seem persistent about me becoming jonin”

“not persistent, but i think it would be nice to go on a mission or two with you,” he winked, as you both approached the counter. ordering your ice cream, you began to reach for your wallet, when he handed the girl the money.

“i could've paid”

“what kind of date would this be, if you paid,” he said.

“well…thank you,” you said, following him, as he went to sit at the picnic benches.

licking your ice cream, you moaned at the sweet treat. it hit the spot, as the sun shines brilliantly on you, even sitting under the tree. glancing at shisui, you stopped licking, noticing him staring at you, a grin on his lips.

“what is it?”

“you're so beautiful, i’d love to be your boyfriend, if you'd let me,” he said, reaching to wipe the ice cream from your cheek.

“it’s only the first date,” you raised your voice, your face burning in embarrassment.

“then i better leave a good impression,” he laughed, licking his ice cream, while staring into your eyes. god, this man was interesting.

♡ gaara : first date

wiping his palms on his leg for the millionth time, he lowly huffed. he was nervous, waiting for you to join him. much to his dismay, joy, you entered his office. gulping, he smiled softly, as you beamed at him.

“gaara, how has your day been?” you asked, opening the door, the lunch bag on your arm.

“i am fine,” his eyes widened at his voice cracking.

“that's great, are you ready to leave?” you asked, sitting down.

“one moment,” he nodded, standing to put on his kazekage cloak.

“h-how has your day been, y/n?” he asked, as he went to open the door for you.

“wonderful, i've been so excited for our date, i could hardly wait,” you said, making his face turn red.

“i didn't mean to make you embarrassed in any way,” you gasped, as he turned his face away from you.

“you're fine, i’m glad you’ve been having a good day,” he mumbled, as the both of you left his office. walking in a comfortable silence, you planned to go to a ramen shop, while he was on a lunch break.

as you began to walk, he slowed his steps a bit. you didn't notice, but he could see the curious stares from everyone. why were you even with someone like him? he was healing from his past, but he never thought he would end up with anyone until you moved to the village hidden in the sand. you spoke to him every morning, as he walked to the office, while you were on your way to the flower shop.

at first, he stared confusedly, as you smiled at him, waving while saying good morning, maybe you were speaking to someone else. then he finally built up the courage to raise his hand, waving back, his heart pounding as your smile widened. a potential new friend? he oftentimes let his mind drift to you and wondered if you wanted to be his friend. then one day, there was a knock on his office door, his secretary peaked in, telling him that he had a guest. suddenly, you made your entrance. you formally introduced yourself to him and told him you heard so much about him and you'd love to be his friend.

for months, your friendship blossomed, until you asked him to join you for lunch, as a date. hesitantly, he accepted, hoping this was not a prank, but you couldn't be more serious.

“i am starving,” you said, as you smelled the aroma of the ramen.

sitting across from gaara, your eyes scanned the menu, before telling the waiter what you wanted, watching as he wrote it on the ticket.

“what are you getting, gaara?”

“i am not hungry,” he said, making you pout.

“do you not like this place? we can go someplace else if you’d like,” you offered.

“no, i just don’t have much of an appetite,” he said, as you nodded furrowing your eyebrows.

“so tell me what is it like being kazekage?” you asked, excitedly. looking into his eyes, you see that he was glancing up, a few people giving him weird stares.

“hey, you have no idea how excited i’ve been for this date,” you smiled, reaching to touch his hand, getting his attention.

“i just-i don’t understand why you would want to be on a date with me,” he mumbled.

“you’re cute, the prettiest eyes and gaara, your heart is made of gold, what’s not to like? i don’t care about strangers looking at us weirdly, i just want to enjoy your company, can i do that?” you asked, smirking as his cheeks turned red.

“y-yes, that’s fine,” he blushed.

“great, will you order something now and stop acting modest, i was hoping that this would be the beginning of many wonderful dates,” you laughed happily as he nodded, waving for the waiter to come back.

♡ kakashi hatake : first kiss

‘i can't believe i’m late,’ kakashi stressed, as he made his way to the park. he was the one who brought up the free time in his schedule to spend with you. yet here he was, running late, with time working against him.

as he sped up his steps, he could see you coming into view. the sun was setting as you sat alone in the grass. you picked at the nonexistent lint on your dress, your fingers carefully turning the pages of the book.

“y/n, sorry i’m late,” he said, sheepishly, scratching his head, taking in how you looked physically relieved.

“kakashi,” you said his name breathlessly, closing the book.

“i didn't think i would end up so late”

“i understand, at least you made it,” you smiled.

“you look pretty, what are you reading?”

“thank you, and uh, romance, a friend of mine recommended it,” you blushed.

“you like romance?”

“not this one, he is in love with her and she can't see it, it's frustrating,” you sighed, looking up as you felt his eyes on you.

“what?”

“i can't look at you?”

“can i see your face, kakashi?” you whispered. discreetly, he looked around before, he lowered it a little, making you smile.

“you're very handsome,” you said, holding his cheek. not saying a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your own. your finger going to his hair, and his hand snaking around your waist. moaning lowly, as he broke the kiss, pulling his mask up in the process.

“that was our first kiss,” you said, subconsciously leaning toward him, biting your lip.

“was it nice?”

“your icha icha reading has certainly paid off,” you laughed, as his face turned red.

“are you hungry? dinner is on me,” he offered, holding out your hand. accepting his hand, he pulled you close, hoping you wouldn’t notice the deep blush on his face. he couldn’t remember ever sharing such a lovely kiss with anyone.

[dulcescorderitas]

three's a company

parings: bsf!dean winchester x reader x bsf!sam winchester

synopsis: the three of you have been best friends for years, but tonight something feels different in the impala’s close quarters. dean’s cocky smirk and sam’s soft, lingering touches make it clear—this isn’t just friendly teasing anymore. by the time you reach the motel, the air between you is charged, and there’s no ignoring the shift.

warnings: no smut

the impala’s low rumble hummed beneath you as the night stretched on, the stars scattered across the dark canvas above. you sat between dean and sam, the familiar warmth of their presence surrounding you, but tonight, there was something different in the air—something electric, palpable, that made your pulse race.

dean’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming a lazy beat as his gaze flicked to you in the rearview mirror, that trademark smirk curling his lips. “you know, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice casual but laced with something more, “i’ve been thinking. maybe you’ve been spending too much time with sam. might be time for you to remember who’s really got your back.”

sam snorted, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter as he turned to glance at you, his hazel eyes warm but filled with a teasing challenge. “or maybe she just appreciates a little intelligence, dean. someone who can actually hold a conversation.”

dean’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with that cocky confidence you knew all too well. “intelligence, huh? well, last i checked, she seemed to enjoy a little fun. maybe she needs someone who can show her a good time.”

the tension in the car thickened, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge as both their gazes settled on you, waiting, watching, their words laced with double meanings that made your stomach flutter. “you two do realize i’m right here, right?” you interjected, a laugh escaping you as you tried to diffuse the growing intensity.

“oh, we know,” dean said smoothly, his smirk never faltering as he glanced at you again. “just making sure you don’t forget who you can count on when things get… interesting.”

sam’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle but deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine. “and i’m just reminding you that some of us like to take our time, make sure everything’s… perfect.”

your cheeks heated, their words, their attention, making it impossible to ignore the undercurrent that had been building between the three of you for weeks, months even. “are you two seriously flirting with me right now?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, teasing, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

dean chuckled, the sound low and full of mischief. “what if we are?”

sam’s smile softened, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was just as serious. “would that be a problem?”

you leaned back, letting your gaze flick between them, weighing your options, feeling the power shift in your favor. “not a problem,” you said slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “as long as you two can play nice. i’ve got enough of me to go around.”

the car fell into a stunned silence, the weight of your words sinking in before dean let out a low whistle, his smirk turning wicked. “damn, sweetheart. didn’t know you had it in you.”

sam’s laughter was softer, but the heat in his eyes was unmistakable as he leaned closer, his hand brushing your arm, a deliberate, lingering touch. “you sure about that? because if you are…”

“i’m sure,” you interrupted, your voice steady, confident. “but no fighting over me. deal?”

they exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before they both nodded, almost in sync. “deal,” dean said, his voice full of challenge.

“deal,” sam echoed, his smile widening.

the rest of the drive passed in a haze of anticipation, the tension thick but not uncomfortable, more like a promise hanging in the air. when you finally pulled into the motel parking lot, the silence between you all was charged, your heart beating faster as you stepped out of the car.

dean was beside you in an instant, his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the door with a grin that was all cocky charm. “guess we’ll see who you really like spending time with,” he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.

sam wasn’t far behind, his hand brushing yours as he leaned in, his voice low. “we’ll see who can make you smile the most.”

you laughed, the sound light and genuine, as you stepped into the room, the air between the three of you buzzing with something new, something exciting. “i guess i’ve got the best of both worlds,” you said, throwing them a glance over your shoulder. “and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

author's note: changing up my format!

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Parents 👪

Aitana Bonmati x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

You’d been looking forward to this day for a while—the day you’d finally introduce Aitana to your parents. She’d been nervous all week, asking endless questions about what your family was like, what to expect, and—most importantly—if they’d like her. You reassured her over and over, telling her they’d love her as much as you did.

The evening was going well so far. Aitana had brought flowers for your mom and was charming her way through small talk, finding little things to compliment in your parents' home. Your dad was a bit quieter, sizing her up, as dads often do, and finally leaned over the dinner table, clearly ready to get to know her a bit better.

“So, Aitana,” he said, giving her a friendly but curious look, “what do you do?”

Aitana smiled politely and replied, “I’m a professional footballer.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer. He nodded slowly, processing it before asking, “Football, huh? And you play in Spain?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice steady but humble. “I play for Barcelona. I’ve been there my whole career.”

Your dad’s interest piqued, but he still looked a bit skeptical. “Alright… So have you won anything?”

You could see Aitana fighting back a grin, glancing at you before she answered, “Yes. Actually… I’m a two-time Ballon d’Or winner.”

There was a beat of silence as your dad’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback. He looked at you, almost as if he needed confirmation that he’d heard her right, and you just grinned, nodding.

“A two-time… Ballon d’Or?” he repeated, as if to make sure he hadn’t misheard. “You mean… the award for the best football player in the world?”

Aitana nodded, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Yes, sir. I won my second one recently.”

Your dad blinked, clearly stunned. “Well, I’ll be…” He looked at your mom, then back at Aitana, suddenly a bit more starstruck. “And here I was, thinking football was just a little side hobby or something! That’s incredible, Aitana. I don’t think I’ve ever met a world-class athlete before.”

Aitana chuckled, clearly relieved he wasn’t intimidated, and replied, “Thank you. It’s a big honor, and I’m very grateful to be able to play at this level.”

Your dad’s expression softened, his respect for her clearly growing by the second. “Well, we’re very proud to have you here tonight, Aitana. And we’re proud of our daughter, too, for bringing someone so talented—and humble—home to meet us.”

You watched as Aitana smiled, her cheeks glowing with warmth and gratitude. When she reached for your hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, you knew she felt at home. And in that moment, you realized that any nerves or worries she had before were gone. This was where she belonged—by your side, part of your family.

[slu7formen]

uhmmmmmm luke castellan "can I be the godfather?" but he is the actual father??? is that anything?

luke castellan x pregnant!reader

idk if this is what you asked for, but it’s what I understood 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ pls let me know if I’ve done it wrong (tw: high chances of that)

warnings: reader is pregnant (duh), swearing, fluff ig <3

₊˚⊹♡

"I'm pregnant"

Luke stares at you, his expression stunned. You don't even know if he's happy, sad, scared, or has completely turned into a whole-ass statue.

"What?" he pushes out of his lips with inmerse difficulty.

You sigh. This boy knew damn well you hate having to repeat yourself. "I'm pregnant, Luke"

"I heard what you said" he clarifies, lifiting his hand. "I'm just... trying to process."

There's a weird silence, not tense and thick, but not a comfortable either. You cover your legs more with the blanket, lifiting it up to your tummy, as if trying to cover the ungrown belly that was very much already working on its own to bring to the world a new life.

"How long have you known?" he finally breaks the silence.

"I found out yesterday" you answer.

Luke's eyebrows raise, as if you had just said something far more surprising than ´I'm pregnant´. "And you didn't tell me?" he pushed.

"I'm telling you now!" you retort.

Luke covers his face. You still can't figure out his feelings; if he's mad, if he's excited, if he's freaking out. And that makes you feel a bit scared. You start feeling a bit desperate; you didn't plan what you would do if he didn't react the way you wanted him to react. You didn´t exactly know what reaction you were expecting from him either.

"How did this even happen?"

You give him a look. "Do you want me to explain it to you?"

"Gods-, not..." he smacks his own forehead in an act of dumbness. "I'm sorry"

You nod. At this point, there's nothing else to say or do. The bomb had already been thrown.

"Are you gonna keep it? I mean, do you want to?"

You knew he wasn't asking you to do exactly what you thought of doing the second you saw that test. He was asking you the same question you asked yourself for hours and hours, what were you gonna do now?

You sighed heavily. "You know I've been thinking about leaving camp" you say, forcing Luke to go back to that conversation you two had just a few weeks away, "My time has ended here. Maybe this is what I needed to realize I should leave"

"No, don't be ridiculous" he answers almost immediately.

You raise your eyebrows. "Don't call me ridiculous. You know I can't stay here forever, Luke"

"I'm very much aware of that" Luke seems to want to add something, but he doesn't.

If it were up to Luke, he would stay at camp until the day he died. What could he possibly want from the outside world? Studies? A family? A normal life? He forgot about those possibilities before he even turned twelve. Most demigods outgrew camp, like you wanted to do, but that was not on Luke's radar. You weren't surprised; he was a hero, the perfect son of Hermes. Of course he would stay at camp, and that would only be his first of many heroic achievements.

"I'll leave as soon as camp ends" you state, as if you had suddenly decided it all.

But now, Luke wanted to leave with you. He wanted to take care of you, the same care he's been taking for the last months since he got to know you better, maybe even treat you a lot better, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. You wanted to leave, and you weren't inviting him.

"Then, can I ask you something?" he asks.

You shrug with a small nod, "Anything"

"Can I be the godfather?"

He had a serious face, not the one when he was playing pranks or joking around, the one he wore when he was dead serious. Your stare at his face, ice cold. He seems like he had already come up with the idea, as if that was the first thing that he thought about when you gave him the news.

"Luke, are you fucking dumb?"

The poor guy widens his eyes, surprised by the sudden and very offensive answer. "What did I do?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me to be the godfather when you are the father!?"

His expression turns into an understanding, a sudden ´oh´ moment. "Are you serious?" he asks, almost as if he was asking you if you were totally fully a hundred percent sure.

You wanted to punch his nose.

"Luke. Who else am I having sex with if it isn't you!?" you can't help but yell at his face, his dumbness in a situation like this surprising you more than anything else.

"I was just making sure! What if it was from your ex? You slept with him a few months ago"

"I've been pregnant for less time than that, Luke!"

"I'm sorry! But I had to be sure!"

You take a deep breath, covering your face in frustration.

Luke stares at you for a second, almost as if trying to decipher your own emotions now. Then, he starts laughing, a real laughter. You lift your gaze, seeing his head tilt backwards.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's just-," Luke's laughs continue for a little longer, "it's so weird. It's so weird to think I'm a dad"

"The dumbest dad to step a toe on earth, yes" you bite back, still unable to believe you were having a whole conversation with a guy that thought he was not the father of your child. Like-, why would you say it first to someone who isn't the father? He ignores your comment, but his lips curling up in a tiny smile. His expression shows you he's happy, and the realization makes your heart jump.

"Can I ask you another question?" he asks again, biting back a little grin forming on his lips.

"Depends, are you gonna ask if we used protection?"

"Would you let me go with you?"

That caught you off guard. You stare at his eyes, dark and shiny in the summer night. He seems nervous, anxious for the answer. His hand is fidgeting, and his leg is jumping. You feel yourself getting a little dizzy, the adrenaline in your blood making you a little more lightheaded.

"Why would you go with me?" you ask, as if the answer would explain all the possible reasons.

"Well, now that I know that it's mine," he begins, trying to lighten the mood a little. The cold stare of your tired eyes makes him instantly stop though. He clears his throat before continuing, "I'd like to help and be by your side. If you let me"

The last words stung a bit, knowing that he knew that there was a chance you would deny his offer. You weren't with Luke, not explicitly, or oficially, yet you'd known him for so long, and so well, that it felt odd not having him in your life. He was like a constant, a stable, and a good friend. It would be difficult, but you knew the road wouldn't be impossible, not if he was the one walking the same path.

"I'd like to take responsability. I don't want this kid to grow the same way you and I and all of the other demigods did" he continues, as if the silence was hurting him.

You'd never met someone as hurt with this whole demigod situation as Luke, which was ironic judging by how perfectly skilled and behaved he was. A clearly absent father, a mother gone mad, living in the streets for years, alone, hungry, cold, sweaty, hurt. If it was you, you wouldn't have survived, yet he managed to put on that mask and walk out and not let anyone know how destroyed his heart was. Luke was strong, which led him to be heroic. Did he need it? No, but he knew when and who to use it with. You loved that about him.

Besides, he was good with kids.

"You know, you're not the worst choice of a father" you tease. You can see him smile, relieved, his shoulders relaxing.

"Really?" he asks, hopeful.

He smiles widely, and his smile is so contagious that you can't help but mirror him. He pushes himself off his seat in a flash, kneeling next to you. He puts his arms around your body and lifts you up. You laugh loudly, surprised by the sudden act. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you off the bed.

He stops for a moment, gently putting you down on the floor again. He hugs you softly then, pressing his forehead to yours.

"We're suppossed to get married now, right?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

"What?"

[hearts4hughes]

present wrapping - nicholas chavez x fem!reader

holly jolly november

you and nicholas are sitting on the living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and half-wrapped gifts. nick, looking a bit lost, holds a lumpy, unevenly wrapped box in his hands while you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, so… what exactly is this?” you giggle, pointing at his interestingly wrapped present.

with a sheepish grin on his face, he blushes, “a masterpiece? or maybe an abstract art piece. wrapping paper’s like my worst enemy right now.”

“yeah, i can tell.” you smile as he scratches the back of his neck. “give me that, i’ll teach you.”

half-wrapped present in hand, he shuffles closer to you on the floor. you take the present from him, removing the wrapping paper, and placing it down. as you explain to him the steps of present wrapping, he can’t help but be distracted by how pretty you looked under the christmas lights.

you and nick had always been close friends. you met through a mutual friend and clicked instantly. people joked around calling you platonic soulmates and nick always smiled, internally wishing for more. and now, with your soft voice and stunning face, it was harder for him to hide his feelings.

“earth to nick?” you snap at him and raise your brows. “are you even paying attention?”

he blinks his thoughts out of his eyes and nods. “uh- yeah.”

you roll your eyes with a playful smirk. “well, you better be because i’m making you do it yourself afterwards.”

he chuckled. you were always sassy and sarcastic, two of the many things he loved about you.

“and done!” you held up your perfectly wrapped box with a box fastened on top. “why don’t you try it? just fold and tape, it’s pretty simple.” you say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world as you hand him the roll of tape and wrapping paper.

his mouth is agape at how easy you made it seem. “you mean, try to not tape my fingers to the box?”

“exactly. small goals.” you begin laughing as he manages to tape down the paper without issue. he looks at you with a smug expression, taking pride in how he did the first step.

you watch as he focuses, carefully folding the paper like you showed him, his brows furrowed in concentration. there’s something endearing about how hard he’s trying, and you can’t help but smile.

“not bad… okay, okay, you’re actually doing pretty well,” you say, grinning. “maybe i am a good teacher.”

“or maybe you just have the patience of a saint.” he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

finally, he secures the last piece of tape, then looks at the gift, a bit crooked but charming in its own way.

“there,” he says, looking at you proudly. “what do you think?”

“i think you’re a natural.” you both laugh, the sound warm and easy.

there’s a quiet pause, and you realize how close you’re sitting. the christmas lights cast a soft glow, and for a second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

“thanks for helping me… and for putting up with my terrible wrapping skills,” he says softly.

“hey, anytime,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper. “it’s actually kinda fun.”

a beat of silence falls over the room like snow on christmas eve. the two of you gaze into each others eyes and for a moment, time froze and only the two of you existed. nicholas’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, unexpected kiss that feels like it’s been waiting to happen for a long time. it’s soft, warm, and perfectly timed, just like everything else tonight.

he pulls back with a smile. “sorry, i-”

you interrupt him, “i don’t mind.” your face is flushed with maroon hues. you try to regulate your breathing.

“good, because i’ve been wanting to do that… well, for longer than i’d like to admit.”

you lean into him with a content smile. in that moment, you felt whole. like whatever had been missing inside of you had suddenly been filled. you both let out a small giggle, content with this now cherished moment.

[hellsbedroom]

call out my name

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: as an assassin for hire, you often worked alongside the Winter Soldier. immediately after the events of CA:TWS, that soldier shows up at your doorstep needing help. and he thanks you in a very particular way

warnings: 18+, nsfw, brief mentions of violence, mild alcohol consumption, heavy petting, hair pulling (m receiving), p in v, porn with actually a lot of plot, angsty ending because i couldn't help myself, google-translated romanian

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

The frantic knocking at your front door shouldn’t be happening. Even though Hydra’s secrets had been blown open a couple days ago, your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Mercenaries’ names never are. So how could anyone find you?

You slow your breathing to counter the adrenaline as the knocking rattles the hinges again. Clutching your gun tighter, you throw the door open and aim into the night.

The barrel lands against a man’s chest and takes you both by surprise. You pull the gun away when a familiar pair of blue eyes blinks back at you from underneath a ballcap. His face isn’t one you ever expected to see again, especially after the carnage in DC.

“Soldier?” You’d never known him by any real name.

“Can I come in?”

“Am I gonna get killed for it?”

He glances behind him and tugs his backpack tighter. “Not if I’ve done my job.”

That’s enough of an answer. You wave him in with the gun still cocked in case it’s a trap. But after you lock the door, you turn to find him staring at you and all at once the gun is no longer necessary.

His eyes are different. You’d seen them empty, you’d seen them focused, you’d seen them angry, you’d even seen them lust-blown as he thrusted into you in some alleyway after a mission. But you’d never seen them scared.

And he is terrified.

“I need your help. I have to get away.” Vigilance strings his shoulders taut and you wonder how many sleepless nights had led up to this.

“Okay, my cover’s not blown and I’ve still got my contacts. Is the west coast far enough? Canada?”

“No. Farther.”

“London’s pretty big.”

He grips your forearms in a flash, gruffly pleading an inch from your face. “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

The intensity freezes you for a few moments before you nod. Wordlessly you cross the room and rummage through papers strewn across your desk. Identities, informants, any connections you still have. Anybody they can’t get to.

“Does Romania work?” You proudly hold up some papers with illegible scrawls. “I can get you out at dawn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

His sigh of relief leaves you comfortable enough to grab a couple beers from the fridge. Might as well drink when it’s clear that he’ll stay the night. But when you try to hand him one, he’s staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice. You aren’t the best at comforting people, especially not Hydra’s former war dog, but you clasp a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He snaps back into the moment, nodding in thanks as he takes the beer and opens it with a simple flick of a metal finger. He rubs the other hand down his face, dragging away the last of whatever thoughts had distracted him.

“Yeah.” He still stands resolute in the center of the room, even as you sling yourself into a chair. “Sorry for grabbing you. I just—”

“It’s alright, Soldier. I’ve been roughhoused before.”

“It’s actually Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name is Bucky. I didn’t know that for a long time. Hydra’s doing.” He sinks onto your couch, still weighed down by the revelation.

You immediately sit up straighter, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it. The whole story comes out with just a bit of prodding. World War Two, his capture, his fall, Hydra’s brainwashing, all of it. You sit in stunned silence through it, nodding in support every now and then. He finishes after the second round of beers and checks the magazine of his gun from force of habit. You do the same, then venture with a question itching to be answered.

“Do you remember anything you did?”

“Some of it. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t...I didn’t want to stop it.” A guilty silence follows and you hear the distinctive whirring of his metal arm as he clenches his fist.

You laugh to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s better than me. I chose to do this shit and got paid for it.”

Bucky nods solemnly, staring down his empty bottle. Then he flicks his gaze back up to you. “I also remember you.”

“On a mission? Marrakesh was pretty memorable.”

“Yeah. But I remember us doing some other stuff, too.” A smile ghosts his lips for the first time that night.

Memories of him sucking angry marks into your neck as you writhe on his cock come flooding back, making you cross your legs. You clear your throat and try to seem nonchalant.

“I hope that’s not something the brainwashing made you do,” you joke.

Bucky’s eyes are sharp as knives as they cut across the room. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t want to stop that either.”

“Oh. Good.”

The next silence thunders with anticipation but you don’t push your luck. Instead you focus on clearing away stray dishes and papers, flitting back and forth and trying to remember how to play hostess. You cross in front of Bucky and easily lift the bottle out of his hand. But before you can step out of reach again, he takes your arm.

This time his grip is gentle, nothing like the way he’d ever touched you before. You swallow thickly and dare to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Soldier?”

The gentleness is abandoned as his mouth crashes into yours. You knock off his ballcap in a rush to card your hands through his hair, desperate to have him closer. It’s all practiced and familiar, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

His scruff burns against your jaw and then he’s kissing in its wake, lips and teeth devouring down your neck as his hands dive under your clothes to brush at your waist and hips. The skin-to-skin contact lights you on fire and you help him lift off your shirt in a flurry that’s followed by his own jacket and shirt. The fleeting moment spent apart is enough for you to catch your breath and shiver at the desire swirling in his eyes.

You collide into his chest again, wasting no time in dragging him backward with you toward somewhere, anywhere sturdy enough for support. It’s like you’re back in Mumbai or São Paulo or Kosovo, desperate to find a pleasurable release at the closest available location where he could grind his hips into you. This time it happens to be your kitchen island, a throne of granite onto which Bucky lifts you and your legs easily split, letting him settle between them and pull you so that his bulge presses just so against your core.

You're grabbing his shoulders — clutching flesh and metal — and that familiar coolness of his titanium arm curving around your back brings heat pooling between your legs. He captures your lips in an eager, fluid motion, tongue darting out to graze yours. Expert at killing, expert at kissing. The tendrils of his long hair tickle your forehead just like you remember.

With the usual haste and fervor, you grind against his solid hips in search of friction and he obliges by slipping his hand down to rub through your pants.

Soldier...you nearly moan, but stop short. You don’t have to settle for this kind of quickie. He isn’t just Soldier anymore, and you aren’t under the pressure of a mission.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his lips, grounding him to something besides what you both once were. “Bucky, wait…”

He slows down, his grip moving to your thighs, two heavy palms weighing down on you. Then he looks up slowly — his gaze could crack you in half. There’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes, clouded over by the bewilderment of what being Bucky once was.

“Bedroom,” you order gently.

“What?”

“Let’s do this in the bedroom.”

He has a lot of unlearning to do after so many years of Hydra control, so maybe you can help him with this one thing. You aren’t sure why you want this extra layer of intimacy, but it feels right.

Your insistence makes him wary. His eyes dart around, calculating whether or not this, too, is an attempt to capture him. Anyone could be in on it.

“It’s not a trap, I promise,” you coax, holding your hands up. “It’ll be better like this. I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t move as you slide off the island, brushing against him and letting the moment linger. You leave your eyes locked on his as you turn and take a few inviting steps down the hall, not abandoning the gaze until his doubts subside and he follows you.

The sparse bedroom is suddenly alive with electricity as you kiss him again to pick up right where you left off. Your grip dives into his hair, pulling in the way you remember makes even the stoic soldier moan. The liplock is blinding and his hands mold to your waist and hips and everywhere, keeping you close as the last of the clothes are haphazardly tossed away. Once you’re bare it’s a short stumble onto the bed and he falls on top of you with his metal arm braced in the unmade sheets.

Somehow Bucky looming over you, sinking down with every delectable muscle, is more breathtaking than the Winter Soldier fucking you senseless against a brick wall that digs into your back.

You don’t get a chance to catch that breath before his hand snakes down to toy with your clit, expertly coating it with your slick with a particular brush of his finger that he knows works so well. The gasp wracks your chest — you’d been ready for this since he admitted remembering every salacious encounter — and you almost give in then and there.

But where’s the fun in that?

Your thighs are locked around his hips and you swiftly flip on top, sitting up to settle on his lap. You’re naked, with no chance of hiding weapons, so he quickly relaxes and focuses on how new this is. Studying your form, from draped legs to raised brow. His hand lifts and you catch it in sync, bringing it up to your breast where he rolls your nipple instantly, carefully watching the arch of your back in response. Bucky is nothing if not a quick learner.

He’s hard, aching underneath you, and the tug in your core calls for the same thing. He helps lift your hips and you brace on his chest and then you’re slowly sinking down on his length to draw out the sensation.

It’s a pretty thing to watch his lips curl as he hisses out your name — your real name, not just one of your aliases — and your own sigh flies out when you reach the hilt. You take a few moments to adjust and then start rocking to an inaudible beat. Or maybe that’s your heart thrumming with pride.

It’s different this time. Everything is still eager and strong and deliciously satisfying but this isn’t just a convenient tryst. That has its time and place, like a muggy Havana afternoon after a vicious shootout. This time there’s something in the way Bucky rubs along your thighs while you lean in close, the rhythm of the thrusts keeping you just out of reach of his lips and yet leaving you anchored to those blue eyes.

He cradles the nape of your neck, watching your face morph in pleasure while the tension builds. You can’t help kissing him then and there and everything winds tighter and tighter until the climax takes you, your open mouth grazing against his as bliss washes all over. His name is a whispered prayer from your lips.

Your stuttering hips drag him into the throes a moment later and his gasp rushes past your cheek. A moan rumbles through his chest and you collapse on it, daring to smile as you breathe him in.

God that was good. The two of you still have it.

You unceremoniously roll off and into the sheets before another thought strikes. You’d never had to deal with Bucky in the moments after a good fuck. You always went your separate ways down dimly-lit alleys or out of a jungle. But here he is, stretched out beside you, with no prerogative to leave until morning.

Apparently the same thing was on his mind because he suddenly sits up and tugs a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” You catch his wrist before you know what’s happening. “It’s alright, stay. You need a good night’s sleep. Getting to Romania is gonna be a hell of a ride.”

His eyes sweep over you but there’s no wariness this time. Instead he blinks slowly, giving a half-smile as he settles back down and pulls the covers up. It’s quiet for a few moments, comfortably so, and his arm brushes yours without pulling away.

“You should come with me,” he finally says, voice raspy with sleep and sex. “You need to get out, too.”

It isn’t the first time that thought has crossed your mind but it suddenly feels much more serious. A real chance to escape. Your fingers trace the sheets and mattress below, a place to lay your head that you had never really called home. Of course you have a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice, every good mercenary does — but are you ready to be on the run? To live your life at the whim of whoever finds you in every city?

Bucky has already dozed off beside you, his gentle breathing interrupted by furrowed brows and an occasional shake of his head. He has no choice but to run, though you doubt he’ll outrun the nightmares anytime soon.

Sleep does its job of lulling you, too, and you decide to make your choice in the morning.

***

Two Years Later Bucharest, Romania

The rusted faucet gives a weak stream of water but you still rinse off the dishes, watching stray peelings and seeds whirl down the drain. Big bowls of fruit are your staple breakfast now that you have the time to enjoy them.

The apartment is silent except for the gentle ceramic clinks, with Bucky having stepped out to the market next door to pick up more plums — the favorite household snack.

As ex-assassins, calling your arrangement “dating” feels childish. You and Bucky sleep in the same bed, fuck regularly, cook each other meals, watch each other’s backs, and take turns cleaning the arsenal of weapons. So whatever the term for that relationship is, that’s what you have. You need each other.

With the dishes clear and reading to catch up on, you step into the bathroom in the back of the apartment to grab a clip for your hair. Can’t have the locks in your way when novels await.

You hear the front door open and a smile tugs at your lips. “Ce mai faci?” you call. (How are you?)

The Romanian greeting is part of yours and Bucky’s precautions — a code for when one of you reenters the apartment, just in case. You expect to hear the coded answer: Voi fi mai bine mâine (I will be better tomorrow).

But there’s no reply. Only muted footsteps toward your kitchen.

Your heart slams into overdrive. There’s a handgun hidden under the bathroom sink and it’s cold in your grip as you level it at the door, cautiously stepping into the small hallway. No one is immediately visible but your senses don’t fail you. Someone’s there.

“Reieşi!” you spit. “Come out!”

Still no answer but a careful shuffling of feet just out of sight. You hunker at the wall for only a moment and then fling yourself around the corner, barrel first.

Standing by your refrigerator with arms warily raised is Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You recognize him from both the news and Bucky’s attempts to piece his life together. He cocks his head in surprise — whatever intel had let him here, it hadn’t mentioned you.

But he keeps his voice steady as he breaks the silence. “Where’s Bucky?”

You don’t answer. It’s pointless to lie, since he somehow found the apartment, but you know better than to tell the truth. You can’t claim ignorance anyway — the unwavering handgun in your grasp says otherwise.

You stare back in silence and take a couple calculated steps forward while trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Despite the proximity Steve lowers his arms, correctly guessing that if you haven’t shot yet, you won’t do so without warning. Killing Captain America isn’t exactly the best way to keep people out of your life anyway.

“I just need Bucky. People are coming for him.”

That raises goosebumps along your arms. It makes sense, Steve only finding him when someone worse is on the way. You’re about to demand more answers when footsteps reach the outside of your apartment and pause, no doubt noticing the door slightly ajar.

“Ce mai faci?” It’s Bucky’s strained voice trying the code. Then he more urgently adds, “Esti in siguranta?” (Are you safe?)

“Da,” you call quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Steve. “I’m alright, Bucky. We have a visitor.”

Bucky carefully treads in, his eyes darting between you and Steve and the gun in your hand. The air stings with confusion. But eventually he crosses to you and closes his hand over the barrel to make you lower the gun, and not even your incredulous gaze changes his mind. He simply nods and runs his hand down your back. Trust me.

He pushes a newspaper into your lowered hands and you look down at the words plastered across the top: ‘Winter Soldier Bombs UN Headquarters’. The newspaper crinkles in your tightening grip. Underneath the headline sits a photo of Bucky’s face, clear as day, when it isn’t possible for him to have been there. You’d come out of hiding to vouch for it yourself.

But that wouldn’t matter, you know better. The little world that you and Bucky carved out is caving in fast.

“Do you know me?” It’s the intruder, his gaze no longer fixed on you or your weapon but on his long-lost friend.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

A pause. Steve clenches his jaw. “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

He pauses again as the comms unit crackles in his ear, probably warning of the distant commotion now rumbling up the building from many floors down. You sneak a glance at Bucky and the grim set of his mouth.

“I’ve got him here,” Steve says into his radio. “He’s with someone. Unclear whether she’s a hostile.”

He clips that last part at you, demanding your intentions as you still bristle at him. But you don’t get a chance to threaten him again before Bucky steps in front of you.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore. Neither does she.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve adds, the gravity in his voice sinking deep into your chest.

“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Bucky’s right. Special forces are always taught to eliminate a threat, not wait for heroic negotiating. That doesn’t happen in the real world when real consequences are at stake. A rattling shakes the staircase outside your apartment door, the telltale sign of heavy men and heavy guns on their way. You quickly realize that whether or not Steve is on your side, he’s a better option than what’s waiting out there.

Steve softens. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Bucky takes off the glove concealing his titanium hand, flexing the joints and heaving a sigh. He looks at you and tips another nod. Get ready. You grab another magazine of bullets for your gun.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs.

“That’s why we ran, you know. To try and stay away from the fight.” You cock the gun, staring Steve down. Blaming him for this situation is wrong but damn it feels right. “But when it comes to our door we have no choice.”

Steve gets agitated, glancing between you and Bucky and trying to piece it all together. “Bucky, you pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky stays still. “I don’t know.”

The thundering footsteps get closer, louder and louder like in every nightmare you’d had about being found. You walk to the windows, looking for any trace of the enemies no doubt rappelling down the building at that instant. There are more weapons hidden on that side of the room anyway, and you gather what you can.

“I hate to break this up,” you quip at the men behind you, “but we can’t keep standing here playing high school reunion.”

“She’s right, Buck. We have to go.”

“She’s coming with us.”

You spare Bucky a grin over your shoulder. Of course you’re going with them, but it’s good to hear him say it.

Steve steps closer, faint warnings still being yelled into his comms unit. “They aren’t looking for her. She’ll be safer away from us for now.”

That makes your breath catch. Arguing with Steve will make the oncoming fight that much more difficult. You turn, a sneer already waiting on your lips, but Bucky once again interjects. He catches your shoulders and his gaze sinks deep into yours.

“Steve’s right.”

“What?”

“They’re after me for the stuff in Vienna. You need to get out.”

“Bucky, I’m not —”

Crash! Grenades come flying through the windows, shattering the tension with shards of glass. You knock one right back out and Bucky kicks the other to Steve, who covers the blast with his shield. Bucky is two seconds ahead of you and lifts the mattress to cover you both from a third grenade tossed in. The explosion is hot against your back and your muscles tremble. With his free hand Bucky throws the steel table at the door, blocking it and buying a few minutes before the tac team can bust through.

Rappelers burst through the windows and Steve kicks one down, his gunfire raining into the ceiling instead of your flesh. You return fire to another, clipping his knee and shoulder, while Bucky yanks the third and knocks him against the wall. Two more come swinging in — your adrenaline kicks up another notch — and a scream grates your throat as you land a few good punches on the closest one. You hadn’t fought for your life like this in a long time, but it’s a skill that comes back quick as lightning.

Bucky dashes over to Steve, forcing the other rappeler out of his grip and onto the balcony with a swift knee to the chest.

“Buck, stop!” Steve calls. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky grunts. Floorboards splinter under the force of his punch and he pulls out his backpack before tossing it onto the roof of the adjacent building.

You take a respite from watching for more assailants and step over downed bodies to reach him. The other backpack lands heavily in your hands and despite the chaos, the rest of the world briefly fades when Bucky drags you closer.

“Go, you have to get out!”

All air vanishes. “No. I’m not leaving —”

“Please.” Bucky’s voice is small against the rushing of blood in your ears. His iron grip pulls you toward the windows and he hands you a rappelling rope. “I’ll find you later.”

You know there’s no choice. And arguing further will put everyone in danger. You attach the rope to yourself and the balcony, still pulling Bucky with you as you back onto the ledge. Shotgun blasts at the hinges of the door across the room draw Steve away and you know this is your last blessed moment alone.

Whatever version of Bucky Barnes this is — the man out of time, the assassin, the shell of a vintage hero — you don’t care. This version is yours, and you love him.

You kiss him, hard. He returns it with fire, his hand tangling in your unkempt hair. A sad smile creeps onto your lips when you pull away and Bucky nods solemnly. One gentle push later and you drop from view.

[cece693]

Hi, are you open to requests? If so, can I request an Ethan Landry (Scream VI) story with a dominant male reader?

I wanted something with Ethan feeling hurt because his friends are accusing him when he could end up dying for being their friend and not feeling valued in the group and his boyfriend defending him in that scene where Chad was accusing him. Whether or not Ethan is actually Ghostface, I'll leave it up to you.

He's Not The Killer (Ethan Landry x Dom! Male Reader)

So I have a confession to make...I actually haven't seen any of the newest Scream films, so this fic might not be accurate to the plot, but I tried my best :)

The dorm room buzzed with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. The group was on edge, paranoia creeping in after every attack, every mysterious disappearance. But this time, it wasn’t just suspicion in the air—it was betrayal.

Chad paced back and forth, his gaze fixed on Ethan with a mixture of anger and suspicion. “How do we know you’re not the one behind all of this?” he snapped, the accusation hanging in the air like a death sentence. “You showed up late the night it happened. You were unaccounted for, and every time something goes down, you have an excuse.”

Ethan’s face paled, his lips parting in shock. “Chad, come on,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “You seriously think I’d hurt any of you? I’ve been through all this with you! Why would I—”

“Because it’s always the quiet ones,” Chad interrupted, his voice low and accusing. “It’s the ones nobody suspects until it’s too late. How do we know you’re not playing us? Huh?”

You pushed yourself off the wall, stepping forward to place yourself between Ethan and Chad. “That's enough. You’re just pointing fingers because you’re scared and you don’t know what to do. But throwing accusations around isn’t helping anyone. Ethan isn’t Ghostface.”

Chad took a step closer, glaring at you. "And what guarantees you that? Are you only defending him because you're sleeping with him? Or is it because you’re getting your dick sucked and can't think straight?"

The words hit you like a freight train, your blood boiling in an instant. The rest of the room fell into stunned silence, the air sucked right out of it. Without thinking, your fist flew out, colliding with Chad's jaw in a swift, brutal motion. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls, and Chad stumbled back, clutching his face with a pained grunt.

“You son of a bitch!” Chad roared, springing forward and tackling you to the ground. The two of you hit the floor hard, wrestling in a mess of tangled limbs and swinging fists. You felt a fist connect with your ribcage, sending a shock of pain up your spine, but you pushed through it, shoving Chad off you and launching yourself back at him. You landed a solid punch to his cheek, knocking his head to the side, but Chad was quick to retaliate, delivering a blow to your temple that left your vision swimming.

“Look at you, getting violent just because someone questioned your precious boyfriend,” he spat, wiping the blood from his split lip. “He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you don’t even see it.” The utter hatred found in Chad's voice caused you to deliver another punch to his jaw, when Ethan's voice cut through the haze.

"Stop it!" You felt his hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you back with a force that didn’t seem possible for him. “Enough! Both of you!” There was a tremor in his voice, and when you finally looked at him, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

The fight bled out of you as you stared at Ethan’s face, his expression raw and hurt. He tugged on your arm, guiding you away from Chad, who was cradling his jaw. Ethan pulled you towards the corner of the room, out of earshot from the others, his grip on your wrist surprisingly firm.

Once you were out of sight, he dropped his hand, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “What the hell was that?” he whispered, his voice strained. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to—”

“I wasn’t about to let him talk about you like that,” you cut in, your voice soft but firm. “He crossed a line, Ethan. I don’t care if everyone else is losing their heads and pointing fingers; I’m not going to stand by and let them treat you like you’re the killer.”

Ethan's eyes searched your face, as if trying to find some hint of doubt, some indication that you didn’t really mean what you were saying. “You…you really don’t think I’m Ghostface?” His voice cracked, as if he didn’t even believe it himself.

You reached out, cupping his face gently. “I know you,” you murmured. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me—or any of us. You’re not the killer, Ethan. I’m sure of it.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the reassurance. But deep inside, a darkness stirred—a quiet, insidious voice that he’d tried to ignore for so long. Because he was Ghostface.

Ethan’s mind raced with the realization that while you stood there defending him, fighting for him, he had already planned his next moves. The upcoming murders were inevitable—painful, brutal, but necessary. Yet, as you looked at him with nothing but trust and concern, the promise formed in his mind with the clarity of a vow: you would be the sole survivor. You would be spared, kept safe from the carnage he was about to unleash. He would make sure of it, no matter the cost.

The guilt briefly pricked at him, but it was drowned out by something darker—something possessive. He needed to keep you safe, even if it meant everyone else had to die for it. Ethan opened his eyes and gave you a small, broken smile. "Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You pulled him into a tight embrace, your fingers threading through his hair as you held him close. “You don’t have to worry about that,” you said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

In Ethan's mind, however, the words took on a different meaning. You’re not going anywhere, he repeated silently, the thought cold and final. Not while I'm around. As his arms wrapped around you, his expression softened into something genuine and loving—yet beneath it, the darkness lingered, hidden just out of view, waiting for the right moment to strike.

[solxamber]

Donuts and Dark Arts - Trey Clover x Reader

All Trey wanted to do was deliver the bread he was supposed to and be on his merry way. Instead, he stumbles on you... in the middle of a ritual?

Trey was supposed to deliver bread. Bread.

He had not, at any point, expected to walk into the middle of what appeared to be a full-blown satanic ritual, complete with candles, chalk circles, and you—clearly running on fumes and, judging by the empty cans strewn around, roughly ten cans of Monster.

You looked like you hadn’t seen the sweet release of sleep since the invention of the lightbulb.

Trey blinked, basket of bread in hand, as he took in the absolute madness. You were hunched over a pile of textbooks, frantically muttering something that sounded suspiciously like an incantation to summon the demon of passing grades.

And there you were, standing in the middle of it all, holding a half-burnt candle like your life depended on it.

"Uh…" Trey cleared his throat, trying to sound casual despite the fact that the air in the room smelled like a Hot Topic exploded. "Bread delivery?"

You snapped your head up, eyes bloodshot and wide, like a raccoon caught rifling through a garbage can. Your gaze locked on Trey, and for a moment, you just stared. The silence dragged on for an awkward beat as you seemed to process the presence of a very normal, very attractive guy in the middle of your academic breakdown.

Then, as if the caffeine had finally fried whatever remaining brain cells you had, you blurted out, "You’re cute."

Trey blinked again, stunned into silence, the basket of bread halfway between you and the floor. "Uh… thanks?"

"No, like—" You stumbled forward, almost tripping over a pile of papers. "You’re like, really cute. Did I manifest you? Is that what happened? Did I accidentally summon a hot bread guy?”

Trey stood there, torn between concern for your mental health and wondering if this was the weirdest compliment he’d ever received.

You fumbled around, your exhaustion-fueled brain running on auto-pilot, and shoved a crumpled piece of paper at him. "Here. My number. Call me when you’re… free. Or cute. Or whatever. I don’t know. I need to pass this exam before I die."

Trey, holding both the bread and now your number, just stared at you in utter bewilderment. “Uh… okay?”

You nodded sagely, as if this interaction made perfect sense in your caffeine-addled brain. “Perfect. Thanks. You can leave the bread by the summoning circle.”

Trey, thoroughly confused but too polite to question whatever the hell just happened, dropped the bread on the table and backed away like you were about to start chanting in Latin.

"Good luck with… all that," he said, waving awkwardly before bolting out the door like he’d just escaped a cult meeting.

Three days later, when you’d finally clawed your way out of the caffeine crash and actually passed your exam (barely, but still), you woke up to the mortifying realization that you had, in fact, hit on the bread guy.

"Oh my god, I gave the bread guy my number," you groaned, burying your face in your pillow. Why? Why?!

But what was worse? He actually called you back. The phone rang, and as soon as you saw Trey’s name on your screen, you almost threw your phone out the window. After a solid minute of panicking, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Uh… hey, it’s Trey? From Clover Bakery?”

Your soul left your body for a brief moment. “Oh god, Trey, I am so sorry. I was running on, like, no sleep and a few brain cells at best. Please pretend none of that ever happened.”

To your surprise, Trey chuckled. “Honestly? It was kind of… endearing. I mean, I’ve never been hit on in the middle of a ritual sacrifice to pass a class before.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Oh god, yeah, sorry about the whole… salt circle thing. I was desperate.”

“No problem,” Trey said, clearly amused. “You made an impression, if nothing else. So, uh… did the ritual work?”

“I didn’t fail, so I’ll call that a win,” you said, feeling a bit more relaxed now that he wasn’t horrified. “But hey, since I somehow didn’t scare you off, wanna grab coffee? Y’know, a date that doesn’t involve candles and sigils?”

Trey’s voice softened, playful. “I was hoping you’d ask. And yeah, no summoning rituals this time. Just coffee.”

You grinned, the weight of your earlier embarrassment finally lifting. “Deal. I’ll even stay awake this time.”

Trey laughed. “Looking forward to it. But, just so you know, you might be the first person to ever ask me out while calling me a ‘hot bread guy.’”

“Well,” you teased, “I stand by it. You’re a pretty hot bread guy.”

“Glad to know my delivery services are appreciated,” Trey said, his voice warm. “See you soon.”

Hanging up, you flopped back onto your bed with a grin. So, maybe hitting on the bread guy in the middle of a satanic ritual wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

Masterlist

[chosopie]

BOOKSTORE - SATORU GOJO

Satoru can read but he just prefers not to.

One day, Suguru decided to bring Satoru to the bookstore with him. “It’ll be fun,” he said.

“Come on, Satoru. You might even find something you’d like.”

“I don’t get the point of books when there are movies. Movies are so much easier to look at and less time-consuming,” Satoru groaned.

As he walked through the aisles, lazily scanning books, he saw you pass by him with a couple of books in your hand.

Satoru was stunned. How could someone be so pretty? Your hair nicely framed your delicate face and your eyes shone with excitement while your looked through the shelves. You were a sight to behold.

“Hey, Suguru. You didn’t tell me this was the place to find hotties. I can’t believe you’ve been gatekeeping this from me!”

Suguru stared at him, unamused. “It’s a library, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t Hooters. People actually go here for the books because, again, it’s a fucking library.”

“Calm down, Suguru. I know you’re mad, but I’ll save the rest of the ladies for you. This one though,” Satoru stared you. “I like her.” His gaze averted to the book you were holding. It was The Picture of Dorian Gray.

He walked closer, his figure towering over your figure. You couldn’t help but turn around and face the guy. “Do you need something?” You asked.

“Ah, I love that book,” Satoru said.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to read this book. What’s it about?”

There was silence. “Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah… what about him?”

“His picture.”

“Okay,” you turned away from him and carried on.

“Goddamnit!” Satoru cursed.

A few days later, Satoru came back to the library, hoping to find you and maybe woo you over. He searched aisle after aisle, but to no avail, he couldn’t find you. He huffed in defeat, his teeth grinding against each other in frustration. He looked down and headed towards the exit. Just when he was about to step outside, he saw you through the corner of his eye, walking towards the tables.

He quickly turned around and ran to the tables, earning him a lot of stares and shushing. You narrowed your eyes. You disregarded his odd behavior and opened the book you had just bought.

“I see,” he pushed his shades up to the bridge of his nose. “Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.”

You sighed, mentally preparing yourself for whatever stupid remark he was going to make. Deep down, you found his stupidity amusing and entertaining. You also thought he was cute, but really annoying and stupid. Sure, not everyone likes books, but why pretend? Was he into you?

“It’s about a salesman who turned into a cockroach and becomes a huge disappointment to his family because he is no longer able to make income,” he proudly smiled. “In a deeper sense, it could be about the absurdity of social roles.”

“Oh, wow. You read it?”

“Yes.” He searched up the summary to impress you.

“Come sit with me. We could read together,” you smiled.

Let’s fucking go.

“Sure. Can I get your Instagram though?”