#but this time it was different like there was still that lingering feeling at first but then i was just like no im just here to

[ivyues]

Dreaming of Peaches - Bang Chan

Bang Chan has a dream of little curls and your eyes.

It had been a strange day. Chris had been acting a bit off, nothing too alarming, but enough for you to notice. He was quieter than usual, his touches lingering just a bit longer, as though he was lost in thought every time he looked at you. It wasn’t unusual for him to have moments of introspection, but today felt... different.

Later that evening, as you were settled in your bed, you felt his arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hand, warm and steady, came to rest on your stomach. It was comforting, and yet, there was a nervous energy about him.

“Chris,” you murmured, placing your hand over his. “Are you okay? You’ve been... distant today.”

There was a pause. You felt him shift slightly, his hand retreating as if it had been caught somewhere it wasn’t meant to be. That small movement made you turn around to face him. His eyes flicked away, uncharacteristically avoiding yours. That alone was enough to make you tilt your head in confusion.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything if you want.”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He looked almost embarrassed, his ears tinged pink, and he ran a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze. “I... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... kind of silly, really.”

Your reassuring look must have encouraged him, because he sighed and began to ramble. “I had this dream last night. You were pregnant... and we had a little girl. She was running around, and she had my stupid curly hair and your eyes. And – I don’t know – it felt so real. When I woke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like I’m... pushing something on you, or that—”

“Chris,” you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. He stopped mid-sentence, looking at you with wide, almost vulnerable eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds for us,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But if it’s with you, I’m not scared.”

There was a beat of silence before a smile broke across his face, soft and boyish. “She had your eyes,” he repeated, a hint of awe in his voice. “And the curliest little head of hair, just like mine. And—” He chuckled, his voice warming with amusement. “you had this little baby bump. Like, the cutest little bump I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension dissolve into something tender and warm. “The bump, huh? That’s what stood out to you?”

Chris’ ears turned a shade pinker as he grinned sheepishly. “I mean, yeah. You were glowing, and you kept resting your hands on it like it was the most precious thing in the world. I guess it just stuck with me.”

You looked at him thoughtfully, gently brushing a strand of his hair away. “Dreams can be silly, but can also hold wants of the heart. If ours don’t align, we should always be honest with each other. No matter what.”

Chris’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “You’re right. And hey, don’t worry, I’ve already got seven kids to take care of,” he said with a mischievous grin.

You laughed then raised an eyebrow, a thought hitting you. “By the way… what did we name the child?”

Chris paused for a moment, then let out a dramatic sigh. “I think we called her … Peaches,” he said, grinning like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

You blinked at him, unable to hold back your laughter. “Peaches? Really?”

“Hey, it was your idea,” he teased, winking.

You gasped, still laughing, and held up your hands in protest. "Nonono, we are not naming our kid something like that," you said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chris chuckled, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading as you protested. But before you could argue further, he leaned in, silencing you with a gentle kiss. His lips were soft, a mix of affection and amusement, and the warmth of his touch sent a ripple of calm through you.

Shaking his head he mouthed the words "our kid" – almost as if he was testing the idea out in his own mind, as if it was too surreal for him to say aloud.

[greengoblinswifey]

A Christmas Reconnection—Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

summary— After breaking up with Rafe due to his treatment of Sarah and her friends, you’ve tried to move on, spending the holiday season without him. But as Christmas approaches, Sarah encourages you to follow your heart, knowing you still love him. A surprise reconciliation reignites your love, and together, you celebrate a magical Christmas.

warnings— slight angst, exes to lovers, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, lots of fluff, L bombs.

Christmas was just a few days away, and the chill in the Kildare air matched the coldness that had settled between you and Rafe over the last few months. Ever since the breakup, you hadn’t had much contact with him. You couldn’t ignore how he’d treated Sarah, and it made being with him feel impossible.

Sitting on the couch in JJ’s living room, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolate, you tried to enjoy the peaceful night, but your mind kept wandering back to him. Sarah sat next to you, watching you with a thoughtful gaze.

“I know you still love him,” she said quietly, breaking the silence.

“What?” you asked, looking over at her.

“I know you still have feelings for Rafe. You wouldn’t have been with him all that time if you didn’t care. But I also know you can’t stand what he’s done to me or John B.”

Your heart squeezed. “I do love him, Sarah,” you admitted softly, “But yeah, I don’t fuck with the way he’s treated you, and how he’s been with your friends, or John B. It’s just not the same.”

Sarah smiled softly, her eyes filled with affection. “I know, and I get it,” she said, her voice sincere. “But I love you both. And I love that you care about me, but I can't keep you away from someone you still love. I want you to be happy, and I know that could mean making up with Rafe.”

You felt a tightness in your chest as she spoke, torn between your loyalty to her and the love you still had for her brother, even after everything. “You want me to go back to him?” you asked.

“I want you to do what feels right for you,” Sarah said gently, “but if you love him, you should give him a chance. It’s gonna be Christmas, after all. A time for second chances, right?”

Her words lingered in the air. You hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth of her support and love, but still unsure of how to handle everything. “Okay,” you whispered, pulling back to look at her. “I’ll try.”

Later that night, you sat alone in your room, your phone buzzing with notifications. You glanced down at your screen to see multiple texts from Rafe as per usual.

Rafe: I’m sorry. I never should’ve treated you like that. Please talk to me. I miss you so much.

Rafe: I love you, and I’m sorry for everything. I’ve been a mess without you.

Each message made your heart ache, but you couldn’t ignore the pain of his past actions. You took a deep breath and typed a response.

We should talk.

Seconds later, his reply came.

Rafe: Yes, please, come over. I’ve missed you so much.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and you weren’t sure what to expect. But your heart still cared about him, despite the hurt. After a long moment of hesitation, you grabbed your keys, deciding to drive to his house.

When you arrived at Rafe’s house, you knocked on the door, and when he opened it, his face lit up, but there was a sadness in his eyes too.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m glad you came.”

You gave him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m not sure what to expect from this conversation, Rafe.”

“I know,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “I just want to apologize, for everything. I was an idiot. I hurt you and Sarah and I’m so sorry. But I’ve been miserable without you.”

You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a while. He looked different, tired, like he hadn’t slept much. He was still the same Rafe, the one you loved in so many ways, but there was something in his eyes that told you he regretted his actions.

“Why’d you do it?”’you asked softly, feeling the weight of the words. “Why did you treat Sarah that way? Why did you hurt me?”

His gaze softened. “I was selfish. I didn’t think about anyone else. But I promise you, I never meant to hurt you. I’ve just been a mess, and I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been thinking about you every day since we broke up. I fucking love you.”

Your heart clenched in your chest, and despite everything, you wanted to believe him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to jump back into a relationship with him, but there was a part of you that missed him, that longed to hear him say these words.

“You still love me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“More than anything,” Rafe replied, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry for everything. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do anything to make things right.”

You paused, unsure of what to say. You’d been hurt, but maybe, just maybe, there was room for forgiveness. After a long moment of silence, you finally spoke.

“Maybe we can start over. Just—take it slow.”

Rafe’s face lit up with a relieved smile, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I’ll take it slow. Whatever it takes to show you I’m serious. I love you.”

You held him back, not fully certain what the future would bring, but for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope. And maybe, just maybe, this Christmas could be the start of something new.

Rafe led you upstairs to his room, where everything looked just as you remembered, his neatly made bed, the faint scent of his cologne in the air, and the soft glow of the lamp on his nightstand. He grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and draped it over your shoulders as you both sank into the mattress.

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as you leaned into his chest. “I missed this,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of longing.

“Me too,” you admitted, your fingers toying with the edge of the blanket.

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary. “You don’t know how many nights I sat here, just wishing you were with me,” he said, his voice heavy.

You turned slightly, looking up at him. His blue eyes searched yours, a vulnerability there that made your chest tighten. “I didn’t know if we could get back to this.”

“Losing you made me realize how much I was screwing up—not just with you, but with everyone. I’ll prove it to you, every day if I have to,” he replied.

You sighed, leaning your head back against his shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours was a comfort you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. As you shifted slightly, you felt the hardness of his cock press against you.

He cleared his throat, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Sorry. Can you blame me? Having you this close again, it’s everything I’ve been dreaming about.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help you.” You weren’t sure what came over you and you hoped that you wouldn’t regret it afterwards.

He tried to hide the excitement on his face but you could see it clearly. Slowly, you moved down onto the bed, pulling off his pajama pants to reveal his thick, hard cock. It had been months since you’d seen him like this, he almost looked bigger.

“Are you sure baby? You don’t have to do this if you truly don’t want to,” he said.

You shut him up by taking him into your mouth, stroking him as you did.

“Fuck baby, I missed that mouth,” he moaned.

You glided your tongue along his shaft, trailing it along the vein then licking the tip that oozed his salty pre cum. You took him back in again, this time allowing him to hit the back of your throat. Your hands went to massage his balls as you deep throated his cock and stared into his blue hues. He stared down at you with half lidded eyes and wrapped your braids in his hand, pressing you down gently onto his cock.

“Oh God, you’ve always been so good at this, shit,” he gasped.

You bobbed your head faster, each movement allowing his cock to brush against your tonsil. Rafe’s moans got louder as you spat on his cock before taking him back down your throat then sucking on his balls.

“Get it sloppy just like that baby, you’re sucking my cock so well,” he praised.

He used his hand to guide you down on him and before long, you felt him throb inside your mouth.

“Oh shit baby, I’m gonna cum, take my cum down your throat,” he gasped.

He came inside your mouth and you swallowed every drop, humming around his cock as you did. “That’s a good girl, you did so well for me,” he said.

Rafe began kissing you, trailing down your neck, his lips warm and deliberate, leaving a tingling path that made your breath hitch. He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes locking with yours, filled with a mixture of longing and devotion.

“Let me take care of you too,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, laced with a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen before.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, but the gentle way he cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your thighs reassured you. His gaze never left yours, waiting patiently for your response. When you gave a small, shy nod, his lips curved into a soft, relieved smile.

“Just relax,” he whispered, his hands slowly trailing down your sides as he gently took off your sweats. “You deserve to feel good. I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Your breath quickened as his kisses moved to your thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the words sending a shiver through you. “Every inch of you drives me crazy.”

His hands rested firmly on your inner thighs, and he pressed a kiss there, his lips lingering as if worshiping the very idea of you. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?“

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He paused, looking up at you with a look that stole the air from your lungs. “I mean it,” he said softly. “You’re perfect. I’ll never get tired of reminding you of that.”

When his lips continued their journey to your clit, your head fell back against the pillows, your body responding instinctively to the warmth of his touch. The soft, praising words he murmured between kisses sent your pulse racing.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, his voice husky but soothing. “Let me hear you. I want to know how good I’m making you feel.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, and a soft moan escaped your lips. His name tumbled from you in a whisper, almost like a prayer, and he answered with a quiet, “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, and the warmth building in you was overwhelming. Pleasure jolted through your entire body as his skilled tongue sucked and nipped on your clit then you felt his finger slip inside you. He curled his finger, meeting the sweet spot inside you as his tongue flicked your clit and made you squirm. You had forgotten how good he was at giving head.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

When your breath hitched and your body tensed, he slowed his movements, giving you time to let the sensations wash over you. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, his tone dripping with affection. “You’re amazing. Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

He tongue sped up and his fingers thrusted into you faster and as the tension built and finally released, you gasped his name, your voice filled with raw emotion. Rafe’s lips pressed against your clit one last time, his hands holding you steady as he whispered, “I’ve got you, always.”

Rafe wasn’t finished with you. He pressed tender kisses all over your face as he lined the tip of his cock with your quivering entrance.

“Do you want this? We can stop if you want to,” he said but you just wrapped your legs around him in response.

His blue eyes were locked on yours, filled with love and lust as his cock slowly slipped inside you. The air from your lungs was taken away as you felt him start to slowly thrust into you.

“I know baby, it’s okay, just breathe, I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You felt every inch, every vein, every throb of his cock as he moved inside you, stretching you out like he used to all those months ago. He reached between your bodies and rubbed your swollen clit, increasing the pleasure that took ahold of you.

“You’re so tight baby, I missed this pussy, missed you,” he said, voice strained.

“M-missed your cock so much daddy,” you gasped, feeling him brush against your cervix.

“There’s my girl, that’s it,” he cooed, increasing his pace.

He pounded into you harder, his cock reaching places only he could. You ground against him, meeting his harsh thrusts as the pleasure built and the coil in your abdomen threatened to snap.

“Clenching around me so tight baby, cum for daddy, cum on daddy’s cock,” Rafe murmured.

Moaning daddy like it was the only word you knew, you clamped down on his cock and allowed your orgasm to wash over you. It was powerful and intimate, making you see stars as he held you close and soon, his orgasm took ahold of him too. Rafe’s cum spurted inside your pussy, filling you up as he rutted into you slowly and whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

“You did so well for me baby. Thank you so much, you mean the fucking world to me.”

Rafe kissed your forehead gently, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as you lay against his chest. His breathing was calm, steady, and he held you like he never wanted to let go.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice low and tender.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “You sure?” he asked softly. “I need to know you’re good, that you’re not regretting this.”

“I’m not,” you whispered, and to your surprise, you meant it.

He kissed you again, this time slower, as if savoring every second. “Good,” he said against your lips. “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping you in the blanket as he held you. His hand brushed through your braids and his lips pressed against your temple. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever get to have you in my arms like this again,” he admitted. “I’m never letting you go this time. You’re mine, okay?”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest. His scent, familiar and comforting, surrounded you, and you felt safe.

After a while, he murmured, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carried you to the bathroom, running a warm washcloth over your skin with the utmost care. His hands were gentle, his touch filled with unspoken affection. When he was done, he wrapped you in one of his hoodies and carried you back to bed, tucking you in beside him.

As you drifted off to sleep, his arms securely around you, he whispered, “I love you. Don’t forget that.”

The next morning, as you drove home, you couldn’t stop replaying the night in your mind. It was as if a wall between you and Rafe had crumbled, allowing you to see the vulnerable, loving side of him that you’d always known was there despite him acting like an asshole sometimes.

When you told Sarah what happened, her reaction was a mix of surprise and amusement.

“I knew it,” she said, crossing her arms with a knowing smile. “I mean, I didn’t think it would happen this fast, but I could tell you two weren’t over.”

You looked down, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t plan for this, Sarah. But it felt right.”

She hugged you tightly. “Good. I just want you to be happy. And if that means being with Rafe, then so be it. Just make sure he treats you the way you deserve.”

On Christmas Eve, Rafe invited you over. When you arrived, he greeted you at the door with a warm smile and immediately pulled you into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly.

Inside, the living room was cozy and festive, the glow of the Christmas tree lights reflecting off the ornaments. Rafe handed you a pair of red Christmas themed pajamas.

“Matching PJs?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.

“Of course,” he said with a smirk. “You’re my girl, and I wanted this to be perfect.”

You changed into the pajamas, and the two of you spent the evening cuddled on the couch, watching Home Alone and sharing a bowl of popcorn. His arm stayed firmly around you, and he would occasionally press a kiss to your temple or forehead, murmuring how much he loved having you there.

Christmas morning was nothing short of magical. You woke up in Rafe’s arms, his face peaceful as he slept. When he stirred, his eyes opened, and he smiled at you, pulling you closer.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered, kissing you softly.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling against his lips.

The two of you went downstairs, still in your matching pajamas, and sat by the tree. Rafe handed you a beautifully wrapped box, his eyes full of anticipation.

“Open it,” he urged.

Inside was an elegant promise ring, the diamond sparkling in the morning light. Your breath caught as you looked at him.

“Rafe.”

“I know it’s soon,” he said, taking your hand. “But I want you to know I’m serious about us. This isn’t just some fling. I’m in this for the long haul. You mean everything to me.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He grinned and handed you another gift, a scrapbook he’d made filled with photos of you two, and little notes he’d written about his favorite memories with you.

You felt a pang of guilt as you handed him the sweater you’d gotten him, you hadn’t planned to even get back together much less spend Christmas together and exchange gifts, but he just smiled. “I love it. And honestly, having you here is the best gift I could’ve asked for.”

The rest of the day was spent baking cookies, cooking Christmas dinner together, and cuddling on the couch. Rafe kept finding little excuses to pull you into his arms, kissing you softly and whispering “I love you” every chance he got.

As the evening wound down, you realized that this was exactly where you were meant to be. Wrapped in Rafe’s arms, the past forgotten, and the future full of possibilities.

[rhiannonsknife]

perhaps a scenario where jackie is so overwhelmed by her loneliness on a particularly bad night that she seeks us out for once.

maybe it’s the first time she’s came to us for more than just sex. she just needs a break from the world and the only one she feels that understands is us, no matter how much she wants to pretend we don’t.

she doesn’t go too deep into her feelings because jackie taylor would rather die than be honest about herself, but we at least get to see a more vulnerable side of her for more than a split second.

(also jackie taylor who yearns to be touched in a way that’s out of love rather than lust. jeff touches her all the time but never in the way she wants! he’s always sexual, always defensive over her, always pushing for more. his touch feels more violating and constricting than loving.)

- 🦔

hurt/comfort in the secretly hooking up with jackie taylor universe?? can you believe it??

jackie taylor showing up at your door in the middle of the night is not something you’re used to. not like this, anyway. normally, it’s you sneaking into her bedroom after a party, or sneaking out of it again when she has decided that she’s had enough. it’s her waiting in her car at the end of your driveway, the both of you chasing something thrilling, that neither of you should be doing at all.

tonight is different.

tonight, when jackie knocks, it is soft, hesitant. when you open the door, she stands before you in an oversized sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to her, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

her makeup is smeared, and her usual perfectly curated image is cracked.

“jackie?” you say, your voice still groggy from the sleep she’s interrupted. “what are you doing here?”

she doesn’t answer immediately, her eyes darting past you like she’s scanning the hall for someone watching. when she finally meets your gaze again, she asks: “can i come in?”

you step aside without hesitation, closing the door behind jackie as she moves past you. she doesn’t take a seat, doesn’t remove her shoes. instead, she lingers awkwardly in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“i just-“ jackie stops herself, biting her lip like she’s regretting coming here out of all places. “i needed to get out of there”

“out of where?”

“the house. away from jeff. from everyone. it’s just…too much”

you take a careful step closer. “jackie, what’s going on?”

her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her chin trembling slightly. “it’s nothing, okay?” she says quickly. “i don’t know why i came here!”

you do know why. even if she won’t say it, even if she’ll fight it with all that she’s got. jackie has always been good at wearing masks, at pretending she’s got it all figured out. tonight, she’s raw, exposed in a way she probably hates. and instead of running to jeff or shauna, she came to you.

“jackie,” you say again, taking another step closer. “you don’t have to explain. just…sit down, okay? you don’t have to be anywhere else right now”

she hesitates, still not looking at you, but eventually she sits on the edge of your couch, her posture stiff, like she doesn’t know how to let herself relax. you sit beside her, careful to give her space but close enough that she can feel you there.

for a while, neither of you speaks.

then, slowly, as you give jackie the time she needed, her shoulders slump, the tension seeping out of her frame. she leans back against the couch, her head falling to rest on your shoulder. when you move your hand to hers, gently lacing your fingers together, she doesn’t pull away. jackie exhales a shaky breath, her thumb brushing against yours in slow circles.

“you’re different,” she murmurs after a while. “you don’t…want anything from me”

“what do you mean?”

jackie closes her eyes, her face pinched like she’s warring with herself. “with jeff, with…everyone, it’s always about them. what i can give them. what they need me to be…” her voice cracks, and she pulls her hand away, gripping her knees instead. “with you…it’s different. you don’t push. you just-“ she stops, shaking her head as if saying any more might break her.

you reach out again, resting a hand gently on her knee. “jackie,” you say softly. “you don’t have to be anything for me. i just…i want you to feel okay. that’s all.”

“do you mean that?” she asks quietly.

“of course i do,” you tell her, your voice steady. ypu won’t let this chance to prove yourself to her slide. “you don’t have to pretend with me, jackie. not tonight”

or ever, you want to say, but you don’t want to scare jackie off.

her breathing hitches anyway. she doesn’t cry, not yet, but you can tell she’s close to the edge of a breakdown she’s too proud to let you see.

she avoids your gaze as she tries to keep it together. “this is so stupid,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’m fine, okay? just- just forget it”

you couldn’t ‘forget it’ if you tried.

“come here,” you say gently, brushing your thumb over her knuckles.

jackie hesitates, her brows knitting together. “what?”

“come here,” you repeat, softer this time, tugging her hand lightly. “let’s just…lay down for a bit. you don’t have to talk. just let me hold you, okay?”

her face twists, expression caught somewhere between defiance and embarrassment. “i don’t need-“ jackie stops, swallowing hard.

“you don’t have to need it,” you tell her, your voice steady but warm. “just let me do it anyway”

there’s a long pause where jackie seems to weigh her options. then, finally, she exhales, a shaky, broken sound that makes your chest ache. she doesn’t say anything as she nods, just barely, but it’s enough for you to guide her gently to the couch, lying down first and opening your arms for her.

for a second, she lays unmoving before she curls into your side, her head resting against your chest. as you run a soothing hand down her back, the tension slowly begins to ebb away.

“this is…” jackie starts, her voice muffled against your shirt. she trails off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “i don’t know how to do this,” she admits after a moment, so quietly you almost don’t hear her.

“do what?” you ask softly, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on her shoulder blade.

“this,” she repeats, gesturing vaguely. “just…being close to someone like this. without it meaning something else”

it’s not hard to imagine what she means; jeff, with his hands always possessive, always wanting more. people who only ever see her as a trophy, as something to take rather than someone to cherish. time and time again, the fact that you could be somebody to do better for her has broken you. now, for the first time, a part of her had known that. the part that made her show up to your doorstep in the middle of the night.

“you’re doing fine,” you tell her, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

as the minutes pass, jackie’s breathing evens out, the rise and fall of her chest syncing with your own. you keep your arms around her, your hand stroking her back in a steady rhythm until your hand grows too heavy to move it, until your lashes flutter shut. the quiet comfort of her warmth against you lulls you into a sleep you didn’t even realize you needed. the first sleep with jackie to your chest.

when you wake up, the sunlight is streaming softly through the curtains. you blink groggily, your fingers searching for the warmth of jackie’s body on the couch cushion by your side. that’s when you realize she’s gone.

the space beside you on the couch is empty, but the blanket draped over your shoulders wasn’t there before. you sit up slowly, the ache of disappointment impossible to ignore, but then your eyes catch something on the coffee table.

a note.

it’s written on the back of an old receipt, the ink smudged slightly at the edges, but the handwriting unmistakably jackie’s.

i’m sorry i left early. i didn’t want to wake you. thanks for last night. for everything. - j

at the bottom, there’s a tiny heart drawn hastily next to her initials. it’s small, almost insignificant, but it makes your chest ache in the way only jackie taylor ever could.

it’s not a grand gesture or a declaration of love. it’s subtle, restrained. so jackie. still, it’s enough. it’s a reminder that even if she keeps running, even if she never fully lets you in, she sees you. jackie needs you, in her own way, even if she’s too scared to say it outright.

you set the note down gently, brushing your fingers over the paper. for one fleeting night, she let herself be real with you. for one night, she couldn’t hide how much she wants to be loved.

the hope that maybe, one of these nights, she’ll stop running altogether, is exactly why you stay.

[isak-dot-gov]

Christmas Arguments

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Word count: 1082

Summary: After an argument on Christmas Eve, Nika and her wife wake up to a tense Christmas morning, skipping their usual gift-opening tradition.

My Masterlist :)

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The argument had started over something small, as arguments often do. A joking suggestion to skip visiting your parents for Christmas dinner from Nika spiraled into a clash of stubbornness and miscommunication. By the time you both went to bed, the festive mood was replaced by silence and turned backs. It was the first time in years that you and Nika hadn’t said “I love you” before falling asleep.

Christmas morning was usually your favorite—a tradition of unwrapping gifts together, snuggling in pajamas, and enjoying the quiet intimacy of your little family before the whirlwind of visiting relatives. But this morning was different. The weight of last night lingered, an unspoken tension filling the air as you woke up and began your day.

Nika stirred beside you, her hand reaching out instinctively, but you had already slipped out of bed. Her touch might have softened you if you’d let it, but your pride held you back. Instead, you busied yourself getting ready, skipping the matching holiday PJs you’d picked out weeks ago and opting for something simple and practical. If she wanted to avoid fixing things, so would you.

As you applied a quick swipe of makeup in the bathroom, Nika appeared in the doorway. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and the usual twinkle in her eye was dim.

“Are we... not doing presents this morning?” she asked hesitantly.

You paused but didn’t turn around. “We’ll be late to my parents’ house if we stop to do all that.”

Her lips parted as though to say more, but she stopped herself. With a small nod, she left you alone, and a pang of guilt threatened to crack your resolve. But you pushed it aside, determined to hold onto your frustration.

The car ride to your parents’ house was painfully quiet. Normally, you’d be laughing and singing along to Christmas music, stealing glances at each other and sneaking kisses at stoplights. Today, Nika’s hands were tight on the wheel, and her jaw was set as she focused on the road. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window at the snow-dusted landscape.

When you arrived, the warmth of your family’s welcome felt like stepping into another world. Hugs were exchanged, compliments about the decorations were made, and the cheerful chaos of Christmas unfolded around you. You and Nika played your parts well, smiling and laughing when needed. But beneath the surface, the tension between you was a palpable undercurrent.

Nika stayed close to you, as she always did, her hand occasionally brushing against yours. But instead of making your heart flutter as it usually would, it only reminded you of the gap between you. Still, your family didn’t seem to notice. The two of you had always been good at keeping disagreements private.

The day dragged on, each stolen glance and awkward silence adding to the emotional weight. When it was finally time to leave, you both sighed in unison, though for different reasons. You were exhausted from pretending everything was fine; Nika seemed simply exhausted.

The drive home was darker, quieter. The festive lights along the streets seemed muted, the twinkling reds and greens mocking the mood in the car. Nika’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and her occasional sighs filled the silence. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this fight had gone too far.

When you pulled into the garage, you reached for the door handle, ready to escape into the house and avoid another tense exchange. But before you could open the door, Nika’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

It was soft, almost broken, and it froze you in place. You turned slowly to find her still in her seat, her head bowed and shoulders trembling. Her hands gripped her knees, and when she looked up, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Please don’t go,” she said, her voice cracking.

Your breath hitched at the sight of her vulnerability. “Nika—”

“I can’t do this,” she interrupted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I feel like I’m losing you, and it’s killing me. You’ve been so distant all day, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Your heart shattered. “What? Nika, no,” you said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You’re not losing me. Why would you think that?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands covering her face. “Because I messed up last night, and instead of talking to me, you shut me out. You didn’t even look at me this morning. I thought maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t meant for your actions to hurt her this deeply. The anger you’d clung to felt trivial now, and all you could see was the woman you loved breaking down in front of you.

“Oh, Nika,” you whispered, moving closer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just hurt and being petty. I thought if I ignored you, you’d understand how upset I was. But I never—never—want you to think I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything.”

She sniffled, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry for last night. I hate fighting with you, especially at Christmas. I just… I love you so much, and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “You’re never going to lose me, Nika. I love you too much for that. We’re going to fight sometimes, but we’ll always come back to each other. I promise.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to cover yours. “I promise, too.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and the tension that had built up over the past 24 hours melted away. When you pulled back, her small smile warmed your heart.

The rest of the evening was spent curled up on the couch, finally opening your gifts to each other. The weight of the day lifted with each laugh and whispered “I love you,” and by the time you went to bed that night, you were both at peace, knowing that your love was strong enough to weather any storm—even Christmas arguments.

[accio-boys]

hey you | fiyero x reader

author’s note; i was bored and was like why not put my shit into well words 🤷🏻‍♀️ btw it’s been years when i wrote a fanfic so bear with me 🥹

summary; a series of lingering glances and a playful conversation break the silence, sparking the beginning of a connection neither of them expected.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

For the past few days, Y/n had been consumed by a strange, almost surreal feeling whenever Fiyero, the Winkie prince, was nearby. She would catch him glancing in her direction across the school grounds, his gaze lingering just a moment too long, enough to send a flutter through her chest.

But no matter how many times it happened, she couldn’t bring herself to take that first step. She wasn’t like the others, like Galinda, who could easily walk up to anyone and start a conversation without hesitation.

No, she was more reserved, careful with her feelings, and afraid of being too obvious.

“You’re totally just waiting,” she muttered to herself.

“You don’t want to be the desperate one.”

Her thoughts were interrupted when her friend, a more outgoing classmate, bumped her shoulder.

“He’s staring at you again,” her friend teased, gesturing toward Fiyero, who was now walking toward their spot.

He was, once again, looking directly at her, that same piercing gaze that made her heart skip a beat.

“And now he’s walking towards us and–” her friend continued, her voice becoming background noise as Y/n’s thoughts turned inward.

Why couldn’t she just face this? Why couldn’t she summon the courage to talk to him? Every time their eyes met, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach, but she didn’t want to make it obvious.

Was it just a phase? Something that would fade away once the newness wore off? She wasn’t sure, but in that moment, all she wanted was to be able to breathe normally again.

“…..Can you even hear me?” her friend asked, pulling her from her reverie.

“Huh?” she blinked, looking at her friend in confusion.

“Got your thoughts stuck in the clouds, darling?” Fiyero’s voice cut through, accompanied by a smirk that made her feel even more flustered than she already was.

She blinked again, looking at him now standing right in front of them.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

For the past few days, Fiyero had noticed her—seriously noticed her. He saw something in her that intrigued him, something he couldn’t quite place.

She was different from the others, distant yet strangely captivating. It was almost like she was hesitant to engage with him, unsure of how to approach him, yet every time their eyes met, there was a spark—something undeniable.

He caught her eye from across the room. She seemed to be lost in her own world, her gaze flickering between curiosity and hesitation. He couldn’t help but notice the way she kept glancing his way, yet never making a move.

"Hey, you," he thought to himself, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Stop staring from afar." He wondered why she seemed so cautious.

There was no need to be afraid of him. He wasn’t someone to be feared. He just wanted her to know that he'd notice her, that he was interested.

"Why don’t you just come over and talk to me?" he silently mused.

He wasn't a stranger to making the first move, and maybe it was time to break the ice.

He noticed how her eyes would flicker his direction again, but she still stayed in her place, as if bound by some invisible restraint.

He wished she knew it didn’t have to be complicated. Nothing was stopping her from approaching him.

There was no need to hide behind uncertainty. Hearts could be free, open, unafraid.

He wasn’t the type to judge. He just wanted to see if she could take that step toward him, to show a little courage.

"Why don’t you come over?" he wondered again, the thought lingering in the air between them.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

And then, in front of her, his voice broke through the silence.

“I see you every morning, doing the same thing,” Fiyero continued, a playful edge to his tone.

Her face reddened, and she stammered, unsure of how to respond.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

His smirk deepened. "Don’t think I can feel you staring at me?" he teased, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

“I didn’t mean–” she started, but she could barely finish the sentence as he continued, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“So, what’s your name again?” he asked, as if they hadn’t already crossed paths countless times in the halls.

As if he wasn’t already running through her mind day and night, just like she had been doing to him.

And with that simple question, everything changed. The unspoken tension between them—the silent moments, the hesitant glances—had finally shifted into something tangible. A new chapter was beginning, one that neither of them had expected but both were secretly hoping for.

In that moment, all of her doubts and fears about what this connection could be seemed to fade away. Maybe it wasn’t just a phase. Maybe there was something real here, something worth exploring.

The hesitation she had held onto so tightly began to loosen, and for the first time in days, she felt a spark of hope—hope that perhaps this was the start of something neither of them could have predicted.

[heartssturniolo]

meeting his family - c. sturniolo

chrismas special !! requested by @nickgurl4life 💞💞

dividers by @/anitalenia & @/dollywons

a/n: i'm still open to requests & lmk if you want me to make a taglist!! currently going to try make an intro & masterlist page <333 - feel free to spam requests and asks !!

wc: 935

Snowflakes gently trickled their way down to the ground, causing a thin blanket of snow to lay upon the streets of Boston. Leaving the airport, the quiet chill nips at your face, a different feeling to the usual warmth California provides.

Boston. Chris had been telling you about it for weeks— how much he had missed being in the place he grew up, his family and how excited he was that you were spending Christmas with his family. He'd been so excited for you to meet his family, concluding Christmas was the perfect time for their first meeting. His eyes instantly flickering with excitement (and some nerves) everytime it was brought up.

And now, here you were, in his hometown, almost drowning in the thick coat, with a scarf tied tight around your neck.

Hand in hand, Chris guided me through the bustling Christmas chaos at the airport, knowing the airport like the back of his hand, due to the constant visits between Boston and LA.

“You're going to love my parents, trust me,” Chris says, his grip on your hand getting slightly tighter for a moment, “They're my parents… But they'll take care of you. They'll make you feel at home.”

“I'm sure I'll love them,” you smile up at him, “If they're anything like you, I'm already sold.”

Chris’ face breaks out into a grin, “Good answer.”

Chris glances at the crowds and then the time on his phone, “I told them we'd be there by dinner. We should probably try to get out of here, if we can.”

Exiting the airport, the biting chill of Boston's winter instantly attacks your face, causing you to shield your face further, using the scarf wrapped around your neck.

“First taste of a true winter?” Chris chuckles, his breath displayed by the cold air.

“California doesn't prepare you for this,” you reply, as Chris pulls you closer towards him, almost as if his body heat was going to radiate to you.

“Nervous?” Chris asks, accompanied by a breathy laugh— it's evident he's also nervous.

“A little,” you admit, “I mean, it's your family, I want them to like me.”

Chris’ hand rests in the small of your back, gently rubbing it, providing his usual comfort, “They'll love you. Seriously, you have nothing to worry about at all.”

A smile forms on your lips— Chris just always knew what to say, his confidence providing a constant consolation for all your worries and doubts.

Eventually, your cab had arrived and before you knew it, you were on your way to Chris’ home, your heart rate increasing as you got closer.

Of course, Chris spent the entire ride talking about his childhood memories, growing up with his older brothers and parents.

Being lost in conversation with Chris, you didn't realise time had flown by and you were already outside his childhood home.

As Chris collects the suitcases from the boot of the car, reality hits you like a ton of bricks, and there's no running now. All you can do is place one foot in front of the other, and hope that you'll be accepted by his parents.

Before you can even make your way all the way down the driveway, the front door swing open, a woman with kind eyes, exuding a gentle aura, rushes out the door, instantly pulling you into a tight hug.

“It's so nice to finally meet you, Mrs,” you say, reciprocating the hug.

“Please, call me Mary,” she insisted, already waving off all the unnecessary formalities.

Despite not being in a close embrace anymore, her hands lingered on your arms, providing the familiar motherly warmth and care.

Chris manages to catch up, bringing the luggage down the driveway, “HI, Mom.”

His mother also pulls Chris into a tight embrace, reuniting with her youngest son after a few months, just makes the moment more special, “It's so good to have you back home!”

Chris instantly returns the hug before stepping back to introduce you, “This is her— this is Y/N.”

“It's so wonderful to finally have you here, Chris has told us so much about you!” she smiles, her words filled with sincerity, “Come in, both of you, before you freeze to death out here!”

Stepping into the house, the warmth immediately enveloped you.

Matt and Nick, who had arrived in Boston a few days ago, greet you from the sofa, where they're sitting, having a Christmas movie marathon with their father and older brother.

Sitting alongside them, you introduce yourself to their father and older brother who welcome you with the same warmth as Mary Lou.

Without realising, all your previous nerves have dissipated, Chris's family was everything he had promised— kind, caring and full of affection.

Before you even know it, you've become a part of the family. You were treated as their own, made sure you were well fed and had plenty of presents on Christmas day, including a stocking identical to all the other members of the family.

And just like that, you knew you were exactly where you meant to be.

extra scene !!

As the night winds down, you find yourself alone with Chris in the kitchen, putting away your hot chocolate mug.

“See?” Chris whispered, draping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your hair, “I told you they'd love you.”

You smiled, your head resting against his chest, letting out a sigh of relief, “Everything was perfect.”

Chris presses his lips against yours, kissing you slowly as the fire crackled in the background and the snow continued to fall outside.

Everything was perfect.

[muletia]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

summary: when soundwave returns in a sour mood you start wondering why do you even care. why do you care about him.

cw: yandere themes, captivity, isolation, reader's pov, elements of stockholm syndrome

word count: 960

[part 2]

Today, there’s something more human about him.

You noticed it right away, the moment he took his first step into his quarters. The calculated lethargy typical of him was left outside this room, replaced with a rigidity in his stride. His steps were faster, more aggressive.

He also skipped your routine greeting. Didn’t point to the tablet, nor gesture at the books with his thin fingers. He simply turned his head in your direction and looked at you for a moment. Your mind instinctively jumped to the idea of him looking for a scapegoat—a piñata to channel his simmering frustration. But he didn’t. Your interaction ended with a smile displayed on his face. That was all. No aggression, no violence, no crushing or death. He approached the keyboard and began working.

Under normal circumstances, he typed quickly yet lightly, pausing now and then to glance at you for updates on the movie you were watching, even if only ten minutes had passed since the last check-in. But something must have been different this time, because an hour passed. Then two, then three, and the giant remained laser-focused on the flickering screen, inputting data you couldn’t comprehend.

You’re reminded of the early days of your existence in these new conditions, when your only entertainment was watching him work. Back then, he wasn’t so protective, nor did he pay you much attention. He was a nightmare—a cold-blooded, emotionless beast that stripped you of your life and replaced it with a fight for survival.

But that was the past. Painful beginnings you tried not to dwell on. You wanted to focus on the present because you knew something was up. Something must have happened beyond your small universe that shook someone as stoic and composed as him. You knew your curiosity — and especially your concern — should end there. You should revel in his downfall, take satisfaction in the misfortune that befell him. It was the only possible form of revenge, the only way to feel a fleeting sense of gratification.

But you couldn’t. Because you saw humanity in his behavior. You saw yourself. You remembered all the times you’d been unsettled—when your steps quickened, when you reduced human contact, when your fingers struck the keyboard harder than usual. Even without context, you understood how he felt. It was terrifying, humanizing your captor, a faceless alien — a creature displaying the most human of traits. Yet, you couldn’t deny it to him, just as you couldn’t deny it to yourself. You were still human; you still felt, still tried to empathize, even if the subject was a gigantic, enigmatic robot. That intrinsic part of you, deeply encoded in your genetic makeup, was reaping its harvest. You just had to decide whether it was a good or bad one.

"Hey," you attempt. Your voice comes out uncertain, betraying your internal conflict.

The titan turns his head toward you, startlingly fast—too fast for your liking. His sudden attention strips away the last remnants of your courage. As he looks at you, waiting, expecting you to continue, you suddenly feel microscopic, recalling the dynamic between the two of you. You wonder whether you should drop the subject, let it go, and enjoy the rare day when he wasn’t bothering you. Pretend you came home from work and were watching a comfort movie. But as he stops typing and gives you his full attention, you realize you’re a coward. Because deep down, you do want to help him, even if it’s just with one question. But you’re held back by lingering fears, the remnants of a survival instinct that no longer belongs to you.

He tilts his head and leans closer to you—a wake-up call you needed. Was your lack of follow-up really that concerning to him?

"Is everything okay?" you finally ask, looking straight into the center of his "face."

He freezes, as if completely unprepared for such a question. Your concern is uncharted territory for both him and you, so his reaction doesn’t surprise you. It only serves to humanize him further, to draw you in with his awkwardness. And you willingly step closer to the trap.

A thumbs-up emoji flashes on the screen, breaking the awkwardness.

You smile faintly; his use of human emojis has always fascinated you. And your giant seems to read your mind, sending you an adorable :3 moments later.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your chest, taking the tension with it. You don’t expect him to always be in a good mood, even though, for a victim, such conditions are favorable for living. But seeing him like this makes you feel better. Lighter.

He extends an open hand toward you, placing it on the desk. An invitation you cautiously accept. The titan gently wraps his fingers around you and pulls you closer to his chest, where you’re forced to press your whole body against him. Another novelty, another uncharted territory.

He’s unbelievably warm, a stark contrast to the chilliness of the room. The necessity of embracing his strangely soothing warmth shifts into a choice. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he’s offering you comfort.

Your field of vision is limited, but you see him return to his workstation. Two tendrils extend, typing on his behalf, while his head remains focused on you. One of his fingers begins to stroke your back, tracing soft circles, studying your anatomy. He lingers over your shoulder blades, subtly outlining their shape. It’s a gentle curiosity you can’t deny him because you feel the same way. You want to know more — about his species, why he’s here on Earth. But above all, you want to know about him.

"Who are you?" you finally ask, uncertain if you’ll receive an answer.

[rqyup]

# is this part of the plan ? (oneshot)

pairing.. rafayel x dating coach!reader

cw.. angst, non mc!reader, repost

thinking about.. rafayel after mc rejects him with the cutting yet honest words,

“you’re too emotionally unstable right now. you need to figure yourself out.”

rafayel is crushed. he spends days sulking in self-pity until a friend points him toward you, a well-known dating coach.

when you first meet him, he’s awkward, defensive, and a little too overdramatic. “i’m not here because i’m bad at love,” he insists. “i’m here because she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her!”

thanks to your years of experience, you saw right through him. he’s stubborn and emotionally guarded, but deep down, he’s just a broken guy who wants to be loved. you agree to help him—not because you think he’s hopeless, but because you see potential in him.

the first sessions are a mix of awkwardness and resistance. rafayel treats it like a battle, constantly questioning your advice.

“you want me to… share my feelings? i think not.”

“writing letters? that’s ridiculous. who does that?”

thinking about.. slowly but surely, though, he begins to trust you. he starts sharing little pieces of himself—stories of his 800 years of waiting, his fears of rejection, and his struggles with being vulnerable. meanwhile, you’re genuinely rooting for him. you find yourself impressed by his progress, even charmed by the small, unguarded moments he shows during your sessions.

one day, you’re both walking back from a session, and rafayel surprises you by holding the door open for you. it’s a simple gesture, but it feels oddly thoughtful.

another time, he shows up to a session with your favorite drink, casually saying, “you mentioned you liked it last time.”

he starts practicing small compliments. “that color suits you” he says offhandedly, and you nearly drop your notebook.

at first, you think he’s just practicing for mc, but there’s something… different about how he treats you. the way his gaze lingers just a little too long. the way his tone softens when he says your name.

during one session, you’re giving him advice about emotional vulnerability, explaining how important it is to express how you feel to the people who matter. he stares at you, his usual sharp retort dying on his lips. for the first time, he really listens—not because he’s thinking about mc, but because the only person he wants to open up to is you.

thinking about.. how the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “oh no,” he thinks. “this isn’t about her anymore.”

rafayel spends the rest of the session distracted, his mind racing. he starts avoiding eye contact, stammering over his words. by the time he leaves, he’s completely panicked.

rafayel begins skipping sessions, making up flimsy excuses like, “i’m busy,” or “i don’t think i need your help anymore.”

you assume it’s because he’s succeeded with mc. while you’re happy for him, a small part of you feels… empty. you hadn’t realized how much you’d started looking forward to his presence, his awkward smiles, and his dramatic complaints.

alone in your office, you find yourself staring at the empty chair where he used to sit, thinking, “why does this hurt so much? he was just a client… wasn’t he?”

thinking about.. the day you see rafayel with mc at a café. you weren’t stalking him—you tell yourself this over and over—but your steps falter the moment you spot them. she’s smiling at something he said, her laugh soft and genuine, and he’s leaning back in his chair, relaxed in a way you’ve rarely seen.

it hurts more than you expect. wasn’t this what he wanted? wasn’t this the whole point? your chest tightens as you force yourself to look away, swallowing the lump in your throat. you remind yourself that you were just his coach, that his happiness is all that matters. still, you can’t stop the wave of jealousy that washes over you.

you walk away before they notice you, but all the while, rafayel’s thoughts are miles away from mc.

he’s smiling, nodding along to whatever she’s saying, but his mind is filled with you. he remembers how your voice softens when you’re explaining something important, the way your eyes light up when you laugh. he thinks about how you believed in him even when he didn’t believe in himself, and the way your presence alone made him feel like he wasn’t so broken after all.

mc’s voice pulls him back to the present, but it only makes him feel more out of place. he realizes, with a pang of guilt, that he doesn’t care about impressing her anymore. the only person he wants to see, to be with, is you.

thinking about.. how despite everything, forces himself to love mc because she is his bride, his soulmate.

he’s standing in front of her, the weight of history pressing down on him. the truth that had once been buried beneath all his emotions rises to the surface—mc is his bride, his destined love, the one he was bound to all those years ago. and though his heart aches with the thought of how much he's changed, how much he’s grown through his time with you, rafayel forces himself to turn away from the feeling he’s found with you.

he doesn’t want to, but duty and fate are stronger than desire. he watches mc with a mask of calm, the same mask he wore when he first met you—detached, guarded, emotionally distant.

“ive changed, im ready now,” he tells her, but the words feel hollow, even to him. he’s not ready. but he’s been waiting for so long that he can't abandon what was promised.

you, on the other hand, are left with the silence of what could have been. the empty chair where he once sat no longer feels like an absence but a choice. you can’t deny the sorrow you feel, but you understand. rafayel made his choice, and it wasn’t you.

you let him go, quietly, silently. because even if he didn’t choose you, you know you’ll always carry a piece of him, the part that was real, the part that was always meant to be free.

at the end, you could only dream of what could've been, you imagine both of you sharing a life where he will joke about.. “you were a terrible coach. you made me fall for you instead of the person i was supposed to love.”

and how you will laugh and reply, “and you were the most stubborn client i’ve ever had. but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But I suppose some dreams aren't bound to become real.

rqyup © 2024 – do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my content; dividers by me; likes and reblogs are appreciated !

[geotjwrs]

Could I request a fanfic featuring a male reader x Jenna, where they are co-stars in Beetlejuice 2? The story follows the trope "she fell first, but he fell harder." Jenna falls for the reader during filming, but later, the reader also falls for her—and much harder.

i like you, i do

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The lights on set flickered as another take wrapped up. You were in your full costume—black and white pinstripes, messy hair, and green makeup smeared across your face as you played your role in Beetlejuice 2. The director’s voice echoed across the set, calling for a quick break before the next scene. You glanced at Jenna Ortega, your co-star, who had been absolutely killing it as Lydia’s daughter.

From the moment filming had started, you noticed something different about her. Jenna had an infectious energy, always professional and kind to everyone on set. She had a knack for slipping into character instantly, but off-camera, she was the first to crack a joke or offer a smile. There was something magnetic about her, but you chalked it up to her being a talented actress.

What you didn’t realize was that she had started to notice you too.

Jenna had always been good at keeping things professional, but over the past few weeks, something had shifted. Maybe it was the long hours spent on set together or the easy banter you shared between takes. You didn’t see it, but every time you made her laugh, her eyes lingered on you a little longer. When you walked past her, she couldn’t help but follow you with her gaze.

It was subtle at first—the way she’d find excuses to sit next to you during lunch breaks, the small comments she’d make about how great your performance was that day. It wasn’t until one night, during an after-hours shoot, that you noticed something had changed.

You were waiting for the next setup, leaning against a prop table and going over your lines. Jenna walked up beside you, her face still smeared with a bit of makeup from her last scene. She was dressed in Lydia’s iconic goth aesthetic, but the soft smile she gave you was worlds away from the character she was playing.

“Tired?” she asked, her voice casual, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes.

You smiled back, shrugging. “A bit. But you know how it is—long days come with the job.”

Jenna tilted her head, her gaze flickering over your face like she was seeing something no one else could. “You’re doing amazing with the role, though. Really. I’ve seen you work on other films, but this… I don’t know, it just feels like you’ve completely embodied the character.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you. You’ve been killing it as Lydia’s daughter.”

She smiled at your compliment but didn’t look away this time. “You ever think about what happens after the movie wraps up?”

You furrowed your brow, not sure where the conversation was heading. “What do you mean?”

Jenna shrugged, her hand absentmindedly brushing against yours as she leaned on the table. “I don’t know… We’ve spent a lot of time together, and it’s been fun. But what happens when we’re not filming together every day?”

There was a weight behind her words that caught you off guard. You blinked, glancing at her, and for a second, it felt like the air between you changed. You hadn’t thought much beyond the movie. Sure, you got along great, but this was a job—at least, that’s what you had told yourself. But now, with Jenna looking at you like that, you couldn’t deny the connection building between the two of you.

“I guess we just… move on to the next project,” you said, though the words sounded hollow as they left your mouth.

Jenna’s gaze flickered down, and for a moment, you thought you saw something like disappointment in her eyes. But she quickly covered it with a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The conversation ended, but it left you thinking. Over the next few days, you started to notice all the little things you had been ignoring—the way Jenna would glance your way when she thought you weren’t looking, how she’d laugh a little harder at your jokes, the way she’d linger after filming when everyone else had gone home. It was subtle, but it was there.

You didn’t want to assume anything, though. Maybe she was just being friendly. Maybe you were imagining it. But then, one night after filming, she invited you to hang out at a small diner nearby. It was just the two of you, and the conversation flowed as easily as it did on set, but this time, it felt more personal.

At one point, as you both laughed about some behind-the-scenes mishap, Jenna’s smile faded slightly, and she looked at you with that same look from before—the one that felt like it was asking more than what her words said.

“You know,” she began quietly, “I wasn’t sure about this movie when I first signed on. But meeting you… it’s made it better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes now. She liked you. And for the first time, you realized you liked her too. You hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on your own work to notice, but now that it was in front of you, you couldn’t ignore it.

But even then, you hadn’t fallen yet—not completely.

It wasn’t until the last few weeks of filming that you started falling, and you fell hard. The more time you spent with Jenna, the more you realized how much you loved being around her. She was funny, down-to-earth, and despite her fame, she never let it get to her head. Every moment with her felt easy, natural. You found yourself looking forward to her texts after a long day of shooting, smiling when her name popped up on your phone.

You’d catch yourself thinking about her at random moments—during rehearsals, on your way home, even when you were supposed to be focusing on other things. It was like everything about her had crept under your skin, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling.

One evening, after a particularly emotional scene, you were both walking off set when she stopped you.

“Hey,” she called softly.

You turned to see Jenna standing just a few feet away, a soft, almost nervous look on her face. She shifted on her feet, biting her lip before she spoke again.

“I need to tell you something,” she began, her voice almost timid. “I… I’ve liked you for a while now. I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same. But now that the movie’s almost over, I don’t want to miss my chance. I really like you, Y/N.”

For a second, you stood there, stunned. She had fallen first. All this time, she had been waiting for you to catch up. And now that she had said it out loud, the weight of your own feelings hit you like a tidal wave.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding as you looked at her. “Jenna… I didn’t realize it until now, but I like you too. A lot. Maybe even more than I should.”

Her eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across her face, one that made your heart race even faster.

Before you could say anything else, she closed the distance between you and pressed her lips to yours. It wasn’t a rushed kiss—it was slow, sweet, filled with all the feelings that had been building between you both for months.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers, both of you breathless but smiling.

“Guess I fell harder than I thought,” you admitted with a grin.

Jenna laughed softly, her arms wrapping around your waist. “I think we both did.”

From that moment on, things were different. You and Jenna had found something special, something neither of you expected when you first started filming. It wasn’t just about the movie anymore—it was about each other.

Filming wrapped up a few weeks later, and while you both moved on to new projects, your relationship stayed strong. The chemistry you had on set carried over into real life, and no matter how busy things got, you always found time for each other.

And every once in a while, when you caught Jenna looking at you with that same soft smile, you’d remind yourself just how lucky you were to have fallen for her—because while she might have fallen first, you definitely fell harder.

[imjustasugablob]

Feel Me Up pt. 2

trainer! leon x trainee! female! reader

part 1

tags: piv, penetration, teasing, spanking, dick riding, agegap(implied), slight degradation but reader is a smartass back

You lay in bed, staring at the dark outline of the dangling ceiling lamp. The soft snoring of your bunkmate acted as white noise, but you still couldn't sleep.

Did I really just try to hook up with Leon? And then walk away?

You could hardly believe what happened wasn't just a wet dream. Even in a dream you couldn't imagine walking away from that position. But when it came to Leon you acted almost on autopilot, making snarky remarks in response to his questions, trying your best to piss him off, just as he did to you.

You didn't really know why you did it. Maybe to show him that you weren't as weak as he thought. But tonight must have really proved that you could match him.

You got out of bed, grabbing a jacket and tying up your shoes. You realised your hands shook a little.

Fuck, there's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight.

Might as well take a walk.

You weren't going to find him, just going on a simple walk to ease your nerves.

Right?

Then why are my hands shaking?

As you made your way to the yard behind the dorm building, you came across the rooms reserved for senior officials of the government posted here. You didn't know how, but you did end up in front of Leon's private chambers, staring at the engraved nameplate fitted into the mahogany door. A faint light could be seen peeking from under the door, spilling out onto the hallway. You simply stood there, thinking back to the day you first met him, all the way to earlier tonight. How you'd always found him attractive, but it seemed simply improper to think those thoughts, so you buried them away.

Suddenly, you heard a click in the doorknob.

Shit, is he coming out?

You tried to hurry away but your shoes seemed to be welded to the floor beneath you. Like a deer in headlights, you froze in place as the door swung wide open.

Leon, seemingly surprised by your appearance, stood completely still at the threshold. Your eyes took a second to get used to the light coming from inside his room, but the first thing you noticed was that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Oh, God.

It wasn't the first time you were seeing him like this. After all, it wasn't uncommon for the men you trained with to ditch their shirts halfway through practice, drenched in sweat. But it was different that time. It would have been weird to ogle at him as he explained to you the basics of striking technique, although some of the girls didn't seem to think that it was unprofessional to eyefuck him in broad daylight.

No, it wasn't like this.

Right now, he looked vulnerable. His hair was disheveled, bags drooping under his eyes. He straightened his slumped shoulders, blinking the strain out of his eyes, as if he thought you were a hallucination.

Everything about him looked softer now. Except for his eyes.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but looking into the cerulean depths, you could imagine it to be the violent sea crashing against the cliffside with enough force to cut through the ancient rock.

You cleared your throat, having lost all the earlier ferocity with which you had taken control over the older man. "Uhm. H-hey."

He didn't respond, but continued to take you in with his eyes. The tension still lingered, draped over you like a weighted blanket, making it hard to breathe correctly.

"You should go." Leon finally replied after what seemed like ages. His voice sounded gravelly, deeper. His tone was devoid of any emotion, not even a hint or acknowledgement towards what had happened between you two.

"Yeah, I was just- yeah. Okay.", you said as you turned away from his body, slowly yanking your eyes from him, with great difficulty.

You walked slowly, maybe a couple metres, before realising that he hadn't shut his door.

Why isn't he going back?

You paused, not knowing whether you should turn around or not. Was he waiting for you to?

In a split second, a thousand thoughts seemed to be rushing through your mind. Leon consumed all of them. The way his hand felt in yours, his calloused fingers leaving marks in the dip of your waist. How beautiful he was.

Was it even a question?

You slowly looked over your shoulder to find Leon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, like he just knew that you were gonna go back to him.

Like his fucking lap dog.

However casual his pose was, his eyes gave away how he really felt, as they darkened on seeing the desire in your own.

In just two steps you crossed over to where he was, and he closed the gap between you instantly, pulling you into a deep kiss, your chest flush against his. It felt like you were continuing from right where you left off.

Leon pulled you into his cabin, shutting the door behind him and pinning you against the wall without breaking the kiss. His tongue flicked across your bottom lip, and you parted your lips as he began to explore the inside of your mouth.

"You're not going anywhere now, darling", he said as he reached behind you to lock the door. The word didn't feel endearing, but rather a taunt, inviting you to retaliate.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, causing him to groan into your mouth. "Don't get too cocky now, Kennedy."

A rookie referring to a senior agent like that was bold. Not bolder than having sex with your direct superior, though, you thought as you felt his boner pressing up against your thigh.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, you just have to run that pretty little mouth of yours, don't ya?"

"I think it's high time you stop taking it and show me how it makes you feel", you said.

You broke free from his arms and made your way to his bed. Taking off your shirt, and then your pants as you faced away from him, making sure to give him a great view of your ass.

You heard his low growl, which made the hair on your neck rise.

You felt him approach you from behind before he pushed you into the mattress, landing with your ass up, directly facing him. Before you could get a word out, a hard slap landed on your ass, stinging as he kneaded the soft flesh.

"How it makes me feel? It makes me wanna fuck that dirty mouth of yours till you can't say shit no more."

Another slap resounded in the room, making you moan out loud this time.

"Oh you like that, don't you? You want me to treat you like the little whore you are, hmm?"

You had never really been into degradation before.

I guess this is one way of finding out.

Leon pulled aside your panties as he ran his fingers over your slit, covered in arousal.

"Already so wet for me. You shouldn't have left earlier baby, I would have taken care of your little problem."

He slowly made his way to your clit, rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves, making you grasp at the sheets, desperate for release. God, you were so pent up.

"I need you...", you managed to croak out between laboured breaths.

"Then say it." Leon increased the speed of his fingers on your clitoris now, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He slapped your sensitive bundle, not hard but enough to make you see stars.

"Leon, I need you inside me! I want your dick, please let me-" you choked up as your orgasm washed over you that very instant, making you writhe in pleasure as he brought you down from your high.

"That fast? Fucking hell." Leon felt the blood rush straight down as he looked at you completely fucked out from just his fingers. You could be as defiant and bratty as you wanted when it came to talk, but the way his fingers seemed to know every inch of you made you completely helpless in front of him, reduced to a blabbering, pleading mess.

Leon flipped over your body, climbing on top of you as he kissed you once more, now with a sense of impatience and desperation. Your little show had affected him much more than he was letting on, and he'd be damned if his dick wasn't inside you as soon as possible.

You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, encouraging him to take them off. In the dim light, you could see him rummaging around for a condom in his bedside drawer before hearing the sound of ripping foil.

He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his tip back and forth over your slit as his unintelligible murmurs against your ears sent you in a trance, repeating his name over and over like a mantra as he pushed inside. It was definitely a stretch, added to the fact that it had been long since you found yourself in bed with someone.

You gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation. You could feel the throbbing vein on his cock against your velvety walls, making your toes curl in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Leon pulled out completely, leaving you whining. He was teasing the hell out of you, which couldn't have been easy for him, either.

A wave of anger rose at this thought, how he would deny himself pleasure just to see you suffer. You suddenly sat up and climbed onto his lap, positioning his cock just right, and sank down on him all the way to the hilt.

Leon moaned out loud at the unexpected feeling. Your walls clenched around his length, like a prison he never wanted to leave. Grabbing his shoulders, you began rocking your hips up and down, not breaking eye contact.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at this."

You might have blushed if it was coming from someone else. Who were you kidding, you would never have dared to act this ambitious had it been someone else. But Leon was different. You didn't have to think when it came to him. All you wanted was to make him feel good. To hear that sweet, sweet praise from his mouth, that he had denied you all those weeks at training.

Leon grabbed your hips and pulled them inwards, changing the angle and hitting your G spot. He began meeting your hips with his own, thrusting upwards, drilling even deeper into your pussy. You were on the verge again.

"Come on, baby, come for me. Come all over my dick," Leon said as his thrusts began to grow sloppier.

His dirty words did the job of sending you over the edge, the burning knot in your stomach coming undone at his request. He wasn't far behind, fucking you through your orgasm as he reached his own, whispering your name the whole while.

Your breathing slowly returned to normal as you continued to hold on to him, feeling him going soft inside you.

"God, that was good," you said.

"Training's in an hour, princess. There's still time for some extra lessons, don't you think?"

tw: LONG authors note rambling ahead

thank bloody HEAVENS this is over. I mulled over a completely written out story, decided it's trash, erased it all instead of writing a new draft and wrote something EVEN WORSE. I'm not satisfied by how this turned out at all, but honestly I had to rush it cause I'm going through some personal (DINO) crises. Also can y'all tell I've never had sex before 💀 I really wanted to include oral but I ran out of time and mental energy. I'll write it in some other fic and make it actually good this time. Thank you for reading my story nevertheless and a comment really means the world to me, i really appreciate all the love and support I got on the first part. I never thought I'd get a 100 likes on the first ever work i publish and I'm sorry for this one being a disappointment. I probably won't be writing again for a long time cause I have a really big paper due after the holidays but oh well I wrote the first part in an hour the DAY OF a big submission so we'll see. Thank you once again, and happy holidays!

xoxo

BLOB

[hrtzstargirl]

I Wanna Be Yours.

Danielle Marsh.

Synopsis: She figured it out. Why she keeps throwing you those loving eyes, after a long time of being confused finally she is certain about one thing. Being yours.

Part 1

Pairing: Danielle Marsh x 6th!member!reader

Warnings/side notes: I decided to make a part 2 of my first Danielle fic, I thought it's cute and necessary because of how the first ended🥲 I'm posting a lot these days, cuz it's winter break! I am feeling that christmas spirit that's why I'm not lazy the past few days LMAO, anyway MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

--

Danielle is confused. She's very confused, why? Because Minji's words are starting to hit her, she couldn't get her words out of her head. She's been acting different lately but is trying to mask it by being bubbly as usual.

One thing she hates the most whenever she's feeling like this or when she's out of her mind—is that you noticed. You always did and Danielle hates it. She hates how you can read her like an open book, hates it how you know her better than herself, hates it when you understand her feelings better than she does.

Due to the stress, she's been distancing herself from you and it's driving you insane. And the fact that Hanni's words seems to hit too.

Danielle slumped down on the couch, her mind seems to be drifting to somewhere else. The noises of the green room fell on her deaf ears. There she is again, zoning out, staring into the distance.

No matter how much she tried, her thoughts will always comes back to you. Your smile, you laugh, your goofiness, your loser personality, how you make her feel like she's the only girl in this world, how you treat her, you're an entire green forest in her eyes.

She always found herself staring at you from afar with that same look, the same look she and Minji talked about, the same reason why she isn't feeling like herself the past few weeks.

She couldn't shake those butterflies in her stomach, she isn't a fool, she knows what it means. She's just wasn't sure why and how.

She feels the spot next to next sink, indicating someone sat next to her. She didn't have to turn her head to look, she know who it was.

"Dani, there it is again." She heard Minji let out a deep sigh.

"Can't help it if she looks like that." Danielle replied, her eyes glued to your figure, putting the ear piece on and letting the staff members fix the wires and your clothes.

"I know, but you're making this hard on yourself."

"I'm not... I'm just—taking the time to think about this thoroughly."

"Thoroughly? Why, isn't she worth the risk?" Haerin popped out, sending Minji an apologetic smile after she flinched.

"She is. She's worth everything I have, I'm just afraid that I will hurt her in the future. Hurt her because I couldn't get myself together.." Danielle responded, giving Minji no time to scold Haerin for popping out so suddenly.

"Danielle, she's worried. She noticed how you distance yourself. She knows everything and she don't like it." Minji placed her hand on Danielle's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I know."

"You have to talk to her."

"I know."

Minji sighed, her voice softening. "Dani, sometimes the best way to figure things out is to talk about them. You owe it to yourself and to her."

"I know, just give me time." Danielle's eyes couldn't help but softened at the sight of you smiling ang giggling at something Hyein said.

"You have time, just make sure that time doesn't run out." Minji replied gently, giving Danielle's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Danielle sighed, her gaze still fixed on you. "It's just... she's so important to me. I don't want to mess this up."

Minji smiled, her tone supportive. "I understand, Dani. But sometimes, you have to take risks for the people you care about. Talk to her, let her know what's been going on. She deserves to hear it from you."

"I will, unnie."

Minji gave her a reassuring smile before leaving to annoy Hanni. Danielle's eyes lingered on you for what felt like eternity before the staffs announced that they're up on stage next.

May God have mercy on her poor heart, you're too beautiful for the world to see, they don't even deserve to see you. Before Danielle get lost in her thoughts again, you turn around, catching her eyes before giving her a small smile and leaving.

"Bro! We're up next, come on!" Hanni's loud voice called out to her.

"Yeah, coming." She muttered before standing up to join the rest of the girls.

The whole performance, her eyes always finds you, the fans noticed it, the girls, and of course you did. It confuses you, avoiding you but kept her eyes on you, what's wrong with her?

A question even herself she can't answer. She watches you dance flawlessly, entrance the audience with your voice, bring even the strongest men on their knees with your beauty.

She's down bad, she wants you and she can't do anything about it. Not until she fixes herself and her mistakes to be better for you.

Danielle felt a storm of emotions swirling inside her. Every time she looked at you, her heart ached with longing. She couldn't tear her gaze away from you, no matter how hard she tried. The connection she felt was undeniable, but her own insecurities and fears held her back.

As the performance continued, Danielle's resolve began to waver. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding you forever. Sooner or later, she would have to confront her feelings and find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to tell you how much you meant to her.

--

The night is cold, colder than usual. Maybe it's because it's winter. Snow falls from the sky, landing softly on the ground, creating a serene, white blanket over everything. The streetlights cast a warm glow, illuminating the snowflakes as they drift lazily down.

You pull your coat around yourself, breath visible in the chilly air, the snow crunch between your feet as you walk wherever they take you. It's Christmas tomorrow, it's not your favorite holiday but it's still the best.

You stare at the lights in front of you, the silly light shows of Christmas decorations twinkling in a multitude of colors. Each one seems to pulse with its own rhythm, creating a mesmerizing display. The festive cheer in the air contrasts with the turmoil in your heart, and you can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

The decorations are whimsical, with reindeer prancing and Santa Claus waving from rooftops. The trees are adorned with glittering ornaments and garlands, casting a warm, inviting glow. It's a scene straight out of a holiday movie, but your mind is elsewhere, caught up in thoughts of Danielle.

As you take in the lights, you hear footsteps approaching. Turning your head, you see Danielle walking towards you, her breath visible in the chilly air. She stops beside you, her gaze also drawn to the decorations.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She said without looking at you.

"Yeah.." You muttered a response but you weren't looking at the decorations anymore. Your gaze is now on the girl beside you, watching the lights reflect in her eyes, making them seem to sparkle, adding to the magic of the moment.

Why is she here? Wasn't she supposed to be with Haerin and Hyein? Did she ditched them to be here with me? Why is she like this..? Thoughts ran through your head, wondering and wondering.

After weeks of avoiding me, why is she here now? You couldn't help but feel an ounce of anger. She can't just ignore you and then act like nothing had happened between you two.

She turned to you, her eyes soft and held some emotions you couldn't explain—was it guilt? Sadness? Love-what? Maybe anger—why is she angry?

Your eyes stares at her face, you couldn't help but feel a weird feeling in your stomach, it's tickling yet comforting. It's a lovely feeling, she's getting beautiful each passing seconds, won't be long until she officially became a Goddess.

"Y/n." She said softly, hearing your name fall from her tongue makes you see stars, you never liked your name, but when she says it. It sounds so beautiful, like a prayer in the warm night air.

You felt a surge of emotions, your heart racing at the sound of your name spoken with such tenderness. The way she looked at you, with a mixture of hope and vulnerability, made your breath catch in your throat.

"Danielle." You replied with the same tone, the same tenderness she had used when saying your name.

A shiver ran down her spine as she heard her name spoken with such affection. It felt like the world had stopped, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth amidst the cold night air.

The snow continued to fall softly around you, each flake adding to the quiet beauty of the moment. Danielle's eyes were filled with a storm of emotions—guilt, hope, and something deeper that you couldn't quite place but made your heart beat faster.

"I've missed you." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "I never left, Dani. Why did you miss me?"

Danielle's eyes softened, a hint of sadness and vulnerability in her gaze. "It's not about you physically being here. It's about the connection we had, the closeness. I've been avoiding you because I was scared of my feelings. But in doing so, I felt like I lost you."

You felt a ache in your heart. Of course you missed her too, you want to be mad at her for avoiding you so suddenly. Maybe this is the chance for her to enlighten you why.

"I've missed you too. More than you know." You admitted, your voice tinged with both longing and frustration.

She felt it. Danielle felt the frustration in your voice, she's angry at herself for making you suffer her pain too. All she wanted for you was to be happy, but her distance affected you as well.

"I'm so sorry, my Y/n." Her voice trembling, vulnerability can be felt. "For distancing myself, for making you feel my pain too. I never meant for it to happen."

You stare at her in softly, the sincerity and remorse in her voice cutting through the frustration you had felt. You reached out, gently lifting her chin so her eyes met yours. Wiping the tear that feel from her beautiful eye.

"I thought having time alone with myself would help me realize that I want to be the best version of myself for you. You don't deserve the Danielle who shuts everyone out whenever she feels down. No, you deserve better—the one who will come to you when she feels down, the one who will never distance herself."

Your eyes filled with confusion, why is she telling you this? "Dani, what are you talking about?"

She choked up a sob, stopping herself from crying out loud. Her guilt is eating her alive, she doesn't have the strength to hide it anymore.

"I like you—wait no scratch that. I love you." She breath out, "I love you that's why I want to be better for you. I have bad habits, Haerin asked me why do I have to think this thoroughly? It's because I don't want to hurt you one way or another. I want you to have the Danielle you deserve. And right now, I am not the best version of myself. It sucks—I know, I hate it when you notices my mood before the others. hate it when you're there for me, hate you for being so understanding and beautiful, hate it when other people try to steal you from me, hate it when—"

She didn't have time to finish when you suddenly press your lips against hers. Effectively shutting her up, she stood frozen—unable to process.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate, breathtaking moment. Danielle's eyes widened in surprise, but slowly, she began to relax into the kiss, her hands gently finding their way to your waist, while yours on her shoulders.

Before you two could get lost in each others lips, you forced yourself to pull away, your cheeks flushed red, from the cold and blush spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes fluttered open, her own cheeks mirroring the same rosy hue. She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and longing, her breath coming in soft, visible puffs in the chilly air.

"I love you too." That's all Danielle need to pull you in for another kiss, pull you closer until there was no space left between you.

The warmth of her embrace and the softness of her lips made your heart race. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. The snow continued to fall gently, creating a serene and magical backdrop for your kiss.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with a mix of cold and the intensity of your emotions. Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she smiled at you, her heart full of love.

"Please don't distance yourself again. My love, you're already the best version of yourself in my eyes, we can deal with anything as long as we're together. Promise me you won't do it again." You held out your pinky finger to her.

She smiled softly, the storm in her eyes now long gone, replaced by love and happiness. She interlocked her pinky finger with yours. "I promise."

"I wanna be yours." She whispered while staring into your eyes.

"You're already mine." You replied softly, a tender smile spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She couldn't be happier, and neither could you.

As you two shared your wonderful moment together, the girls watched from afar, Hyein was trying to bite into a candy cane, Haerin munched on cookies, while Hanni and Minji stood with pride smiles on their faces.

"How did you convinced Dani to finally talk to her?" Hanni asked, her eyes still glued to the two of you.

"I didn't, it's those two who did." Minji nodded towards the two younger members who's busy eating, earning an amuse chuckle from the other.

[mischiefmaker615]

Hiii! You popped up on my home page again and I was once again choking on your wonderful writing. I have a thing for your Musical Mischief series!

I Caught Myself -Paramore.

I totally get it if this doesn't bring any inspiration, but if it does, I'd love to read it! Much love.<3

I Caught Myself

Summary: When Loki finds his "babysitter" asleep, does he dare take that risk of freedom?

Rating: PG14

Requester: @nervouseden

Inspiration Request: "I Caught Myself" by Paramore

Note: NGL this one was a bit tricky to think of a plot *sweats* hope it will do..

Loki's POV

The only sound that could be heard was from the soft steps I made down yet another hall in search of Y/N. Those heroes have departed for the day and yet the tower has been left unnaturally quiet. I wouldn’t so much as trouble myself if danger was to happen in their absence but the very creature I do so happen to favor- and quite frankly wouldn’t want to see harmed- is nowhere to be found.

Calling her name would show me as desperate, weak, wanting in the fact that I seek out a mortal’s presence. Ohh but she is no mere mortal..

I often think about how different she is when time grants itself to my mind. Her fragrance lingers in the senses where It almost caresses and beckons. Her hair sways practically in time with her hips while she walks. Her dainty hands fidgets with things when she is deep thinking or trying to distract herself. She does that a lot when she finds me watching her..

Her uncomfortableness often amuses me; it’s hardly disgust, her cheeks redden to much for it to be anything negative to my stares. From her body language, she’s often shown me how much affect I have on her and all I merely do is just watch her. I don’t often catch myself doing it, she almost seems to have this way of grabbing my attention without myself even realizing it first.

She’s the only one I give a word to, actually hold my tongue and offer a series of replies whenever she finds herself wishing to speak with me. Why? Unlike the others, I have found no sign of her holding any fear or anger towards me. I’ve had to question myself if my abilities to read others have diminished but with her conversations and approaches seeming.. heartfelt, my body normally relaxes when she’s brought herself to my presence.

I gave no argument when the Iron Idiot had presented the idea of her being the one to keep an eye on me. Even now with that thought, I couldn’t help but smirk with the idea that they think I need a babysitter. I’ve been here to many months to count and they still can’t find themselves to let go with the idea that as soon as I step foot outside, the world would burn once again.

The thought has crossed my mind often but somehow it often drifts back to Y/N.. the mere thought of her injured causes a tight pain within my chest. I wouldn’t even be willing to take the risk of world domination again with the fact that collateral must always be taken in account.

She would be a risk.

Leaving rather than ruling would be more like it.

I have entered the main room to which one would see first if they came to this domain and I almost gave up finding her if it hadn’t been for the soft sound of breathing and that glorious scent catching my attention. Slowing my steps even more, I approach the back of the couch where a book lays open upon the table and the sleeping form of Y/N is spread out amongst me.

My eyes didn’t hesitate to drop at her form; an arm is raised above her head while the other is draped over her waist. She is laying on her side, still in her day clothes which immediately told me she must have fallen asleep. The sight was quite.. alluring, if I am to be honest with myself. If we were in a perfect world, I would have probably gathered her in my arms and finally got a taste of those lushes lips my eyes so often drift too.

But I couldn’t risk not having her feelings reciprocated.. although humans are incredibly easy to read, she was very much a difficult one to figure out. it’s probably why I favor her presence so much. She is not bland, nor boring. It’s quite the thrill when I am presenting with a fact about her I hadn’t quite beat her to figuring out. even now my eyes move forward to find the book on the table and I smile to myself.

She is almost half way through and was one I’ve let her borrow back in a previous conversation I quite enjoyed. I don’t often find others enjoying books as much as I do, let alone a human- with its technology replacing paper every day.

She’s different.. she has full control of my body without my mind being able to convince it otherwise.

My hands have been gripping the back of the couch for awhile now, blood rushing back to my fingers when I remove one to slowly drift down to her sleeping form. It shouldn’t have lingered as long as it did, but I relished in the feeling of her beautiful hair brushing against my skin while I return a lock back behind her ear. Her skin looks so soft and smooth and my finger tips tingle with the growing urge and idea of feeling her more.

Turning my back to her helped my growing evidence of what she truly does to me, my eyes eventually resting upon to elevator that was merely just a few feet away.

How easy it could be..

How easy it could be to just take advantage with the heroes gone, my dear babysitter asleep and I merely free to walk out those doors without so much of a sound or a hint. I could perhaps start a life somewhere.. under an identity though a simple spell I’d apply daily. No one would no, no one would find me, perhaps no one would eventually remember me once the hunt was given up.

My eyes slowly move over my shoulder, taking in the sight once more of her glorious form and with thoughts if she’d even miss me, or so much as think of me. Her eyes were always full of kindness, not once have I been able to detect a lie or trick. She was genuine.. how did she find herself to be amongst these mortal savages..

On Asgard, she would have been for certain courted, second glanced and snatched up within a second upon joining a festival. Id worry every waking second if she wasn’t at my side that I may be bested, stolen from, or perhaps she’d find someone better.. yet she’s never truly had me think of myself that way..

Around her, I feel more heard than I had in my entire childhood. Seen, more than I had when I had attended the court.. loved.. perhaps even if it were to be within a friendship..

If that is all she has to offer, than I am to accept it in abundance..

My eyes drifted back to the elevator. Freedom within just a few steps..

“I don’t know what I want..’’ my voice but whispered yet deep down in denial, I did know.

Which is why I found myself slowly walking around the couch, sitting myself in the spot she offered while her legs stayed bent yet comfortable. She rather seemed to enjoy curling herself when she was asleep, and I couldn’t help but smile before I was reminded perhaps she was cold and wasn’t prepared for the unexpected wave of exhaustion. Instinctually I conjured a blanket to wrap around her, the familiar green color having to be explained if she were to wake up and find it.

What would I tell her?

‘I found you asleep and thought you might be in need of a blanket?’ of course not.. I wish not for the image of going soft.. I then thought I may perhaps place her in her proper bed, but that would come with trouble in its own. ‘you entered my bedroom without permission’ she may say.. no.. Y/N has always been one to think positive..

“it’s the thought that counts at least’’ she often quoted and I couldn’t help but feel the smile tug at my lips again, my hand having been resting on her hip the entire time since I’ve sat down.

What was she doing to me.. her mere presence has me under some sort of spell of some sorts.. a few months ago I may have had this woman on her knees, now all she has me wanting is to be sinking onto my own..

I took the risk.

I felt myself leaning over her, my hand moving to curl at her hip and the other by her shoulder before my actions froze, watching how she slowly stirred and hummed in her sleep. Sweet thing.. what do you dream about.. with my body frozen as to not wake her, she then turned a little, the hand having been above her head coming now and merely rest upon mine beside her hip.

My breath hitched, her hands being as soft and gentle as I’ve imagined they would and my eyes closed to relish in the feeling alone. I could feel her fingers slightly gripped my wrist, almost as if her body was aware of the touch it was giving and my mind imagined her grip somewhere else.

I was not in a position to easily hide my physical reaction towards her without waking her up. I only prayed to the gods her light prodding that now ghosted her beautiful ass wouldn’t be enough to wake her up or stir anymore- before gods knew my control could be worn thin in mere seconds if I let it slip.

‘’gods Y/N.. what are you doing to me..’’ I breathed, trying to ignore my erection while I slowly leaned myself down, hovering over her so I could inhale slowly that scent I loved so much. ‘’I thought I didn’t know what I wanted... You're pushing and pulling me down to you.. making me think things I never should have thought.. what do you want?” I whisper, almost convincing myself I’d get an answer while her eyes remained shut and her lips parted ever so slightly.

‘’I want you Y/N..’’ I whisper, my eyes not even straining while they remained on her face. I knew the door to freedom was right there, but everything within myself told me this is where freedom was.. with her..

‘’whenever you may realize it, I’ll be here..’’ I promised, allowing myself to lean more, my body barely brushing against hers before I lightly brushed my lips against her soft cheek, everything in my power held me back from adding more pressure or moving them down to her awaiting lips before I allowed myself to sit back up.

Looking down at her hand that gripped mine, I slowly turned it enough so I could also place a kiss upon her knuckles, finding everything about her soft and sweet before I carefully placed her hand down and freed my own.

She is perfect.. and will be fine someday.. if I am to wait longer than I am to wait to gain freedom, so be it. I’d rather live a life of imprisonment if it meant she was to be promised to me than to walk out and find her gone too. Perhaps I am not so trapped here, one may think she was trapped here with me.

And by the gods all hell will break lose if someone dare take her away.

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D 

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing

[theartofcollapse]

Hi! Is okay to request a fic for female reader x Casey in which reader and Casey have been flirting on and off for weeks now, but every time it seems it’s going to get serious, Casey backs off (because she’s secretly scared of ruining whatever friendship reader and her have going on), but when the squad gathers for drinks after work and a woman in a deep plunging neckline flirts with reader by the bar and reader seems to enjoy the attention, Casey realizes that maybe she’s been acting like a jerk the whole time?

Second Thoughts - Casey Novak

a/n: i hope it turned out the way you wanted :) my dms are open, feel free to request anything you would like to read. summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.1K

masterlist

It wasn’t unusual for the squad to gather at O��Malley’s after a particularly gruelling week of cases. Tonight, the bar was buzzing with energy, the kind that came with the first night off in a while. You sat at the end of the squad’s usual booth, having a drink and half listening to Fin’s retelling of an old case, but your attention kept drifting to Casey Novak.

She was sitting across from you, her fiery red hair catching the dim lights of the bar, her green eyes scanning the room like she was deliberately avoiding meeting yours. Every so often, her gaze flickered to you, and when your eyes met, a faint blush crept up her cheeks before she quickly turned away.

It had been weeks of this. Weeks of subtle, teasing flirtation that danced just on the edge of something more. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. Maybe it was the time you’d brought her coffee during a late night prep session in her office, and she’d smiled, saying something like, “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I might actually owe you my soul after this.”

“Maybe just dinner,” you’d teased, grinning at her.

“I don’t agree to dinner with just anyone,” she’d quipped back, her tone light but her eyes lingering on yours just a second too long.

Or maybe it was the time you’d sparred over a case in front of the squad, the tension building with each exchange. You’d walked out together afterward, still debating, and she’d nudged your shoulder playfully.

“You always like making my job harder, don’t you?” she’d said, her smirk softening into something more vulnerable.

“Only because you make it so much fun to watch you argue,” you’d replied.

Moments like those kept piling up. Every time she smiled at you across the courtroom or laughed at one of your jokes, it felt like you were getting closer to something real. But then, like clockwork, she’d pull away, an excuse, a nervous laugh, a hasty retreat. It was maddening.

You weren’t stupid, you knew fear when you saw it. But how long could this back and forth last before you gave up entirely? 

Tonight wasn’t much different. Casey seemed tight, barely touching her drink as she occasionally glanced in your direction. Her lips pressed into a thin line whenever someone else at the table made you laugh, but she didn’t say a word about it.

“Another round, Y/N?” Olivia’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“Sure,” you said, standing. “I’ll go, grab it.”

A few murmurs of appreciation followed as you offered to grab refills for the rest of the table as well.

You made your way to the bar, weaving through the clusters of people until you found a spot. As you waited for the bartender, a woman slid into the space next to you.

“Long day?” she asked, her voice low and smooth.

You glanced at her, taking in her dark eyes and the plunging neckline of her dress. She was stunning, and the way she looked at you made her intentions very, very clear.

“Something like that,” you replied, smiling politely.

She leaned closer, her hand lightly brushing yours on the counter. “You look like you could use a distraction.”

You chuckled softly, unsure but not entirely opposed to the attention. “Maybe.”

From the corner of the room, Casey watched the exchange unfold. Her drink sat untouched in front of her, the ice slowly melting as her grip tightened around the glass. She watched the woman lean into you, her laugh spilling effortlessly into the space between you. Casey’s heart twisted painfully. She couldn’t hear the words being exchanged, but she didn’t need to. It was all in the way you smiled back, the way you didn’t pull away.

A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed through her chest. What was she even doing? For weeks now, she had convinced herself that keeping things platonic was the right call. You were too important to her. What if she ruined everything? But standing there, watching someone else flirt with you, Casey realized she wasn’t protecting your friendship. She was sabotaging something that could have been so much more. She’d been a coward. Worse than that, she’d been selfish, keeping you close, but never letting you in.

“Everything okay, Casey?” Olivia’s voice startled her.

Casey blinked, realizing Olivia had been watching her.

“I’m fine,” Casey said, but the words felt hollow. She set her drink down and stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor.

“Casey…” Olivia started, but Casey didn’t hear the rest. She was already weaving through the crowd, heading straight for the bar, her heels clicking against the floor.

When she reached you, the woman beside you shot her a curious glance, but Casey ignored her completely.

“Y/N,” Casey said, her tone firm.

You turned, startled. “Casey?”

“We need to talk,” she said, her green eyes boring into yours.

The woman beside you raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Friend of yours?”

Casey didn’t even spare her a glance. “More than that,” she said simply. 

Your breath hitched, her words settling over you.

“Casey, what…”

“Not here,” she interrupted, her voice softening. “Please.”

You hesitated, glancing at the woman beside you, who shrugged and stepped back with a roll of her eyes.

“Okay,” you said finally, following Casey as she led you to a quieter corner near the back of the bar.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Casey’s hands fidgeted at her sides, and you could see the struggle on her face as she tried to find the right words.

“I’ve been an idiot,” she said finally, her voice low.

“Casey…”

“No, let me finish,” she interrupted, her green eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve been scared. Scared of losing you, scared of screwing this up. But tonight, seeing you with her…” She trailed off, her jaw tightening. “I realized I’ve been acting like a jerk. I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length because I was afraid, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not as a friend, and definitely not to someone else.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, her words sinking in.

You stepped closer. “Casey, I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been waiting because I feel the same way. But… are you sure you’re serious about this? About us?”

Relief washed over her face, and for the first time in weeks, she smiled, really smiled. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything.”

Your lips formed into a small smirk, stepping a bit closer to Casey again. “Then you should prove it.”

Casey didn’t hesitate. She laughed a little, then stepped forward, cupping your face with trembling hands as she closed the distance between you and kissed you. Soft at first, testing the waters, then deeper as you kissed her back.

When she pulled away, her forehead resting against yours, she whispered, “Dinner. Tomorrow night. Just us.”

You grinned. “I’ll be there.”

And this time, there was no backing down.

[kirkwallguy]

i agree with your takes on dragon age's relationship with queer content a lot. a straight female inquisitor (bonus point if elf) gets the most romance options, zevran and leliana's romance feels secondary *by narrative* compared to romances of characters who's a warden/king alistair and morrigan, sebastian being bisexual being a cut content*

* i just don't get it why the templar boys always got to be straight. like why can't men engage with their romances and experience this narrative when chantry and religion is so important for the story of these games? after all romance adds a different perspective for all characters.

here we have veilguard, the pansexual crew, and well... the romance content is the weakest in franchise

and i'm not saying queer romances were bad btw!! its just that i wish people who wants to play mlm or wlw get to see such perspectives in the story or these characters' stories too. like a male warden romancing alistair and all the juicy stuff that comes with it (the hurt or angst or the complications. are you sparing loghain? did you just marry the love of your life off to his sister-in-law for the future of your beloved country? did he become a drunkard visiting bars after bars because of the decisions you made even tough you were intimate?)

no exactly! i do tend to want to give them some slack given they're very Of Their Time (for a 2009 game even including bisexual options was scandalous, and dorian's bare bones coming out narrative was pretty standard for 2013 tv shows / rare in aaa games) but it annoys me when people act like they're these flawless beacons of queer rep that you can't criticise just because we should be happy with being given anything at all. even if you don't count seb, 1/2 of the games pretty much require you to play an f/m relationship in order to experience a narratively relevant relationship. i find dai more insidious tbh because like... sure, don't make solas bi for whatever reasons you want to give. but cass and blackwall? there's 0 reason for them to be straight lol. (especially the bait and switch where you're allowed to flirt with cass as a woman for AGES before she turns you down despite characters like cullen shutting you down on the first flirt. it's funny when you do it intentionally but just feels cruel otherwise?) at least leliana and zevran feel like they're doing the most they were allowed to do

a gay or bisexual chantry/templar character who struggles with their sexuality would be SO interesting. honestly it would require more introspection about thedas' attitude towards sexuality than da has ever done - i feel like they could have done a fun subplot with this in da2 honestly.

and the thing about the dav characters is... they went to great lengths to make sure they avoided the playersexual allegations, multiple characters had a past where they dated people of various genders, taash having a preference for women was mentioned (in the weirdest way possible) but i still... don't know how they feel about their sexuality at all? neve is a tevinter mage, did her liking women play a part in her seeing through the issues with the system? does bellara have any lingering feelings about irelin at all? did harding realise she didn't have to be straight when she joined the inquisition and met people outside of her small ferelden town? (potential extra dialogue for an f/f romancing inquisitor???) it doesn't need to be a big Thing, but just a one-off dialogue during romance (davrin m/m exclusive dialogue on your date: "the first time i brought a man to meet my uncle i was so nervous etc etc") or a comment during a banter. it just establishes a little bit more about the characters and stops them feeling so flat... then again ig that's an issue with the whole game LOL.

[deadlydivergentgirl]

- An Enchanted Christmas

Summary : As you discover Christmas for the first time, Dean make you discover human traditions through his eyes. Fascinated by the lights, the carols, festivities warmth, you'll be guided by Dean, who, despite his shell, reveals the magic of the season on a enchanted night.

Pairing : Dean x female!reader

Warnings : Just a lot of fluff

Topic : A christmas gift story for @zepskies

A participation for : @spnfanficpond secret santa 2024

Words count : 1387

____________________________________________

The evening had only just begun, and snow fell slowly on the roof of the Impala as Dean drove leisurely down the road, the hum of the engine a steady rhythm beneath the winter air. He had taken a slight detour through a nearby small town, planning to pick up a few supplies before heading back to the bunker. Sam sat in the passenger seat, engrossed in scribbling down a list of essentials, while you sat quietly in the back seat, your gaze fixed on the enchanting scenery outside.

It was Christmas, a holiday that, as an angel, you barely understood. Only a few months had passed since Castiel had entrusted you to the Winchester brothers, and during that time, you had learned much about the mortal world, its beauty, its fragility, its pain. And in that time, you had come to feel something inexplicable for the brothers, especially Dean, whose rough edges concealed an unwavering sense of loyalty and warmth.

Your heart stirred when your gaze caught Dean’s hazel-green eyes in the rearview mirror. He glanced at you with fleeting softness before returning his focus to the road, but that brief connection was enough to send your thoughts racing. You turned away quickly, your cheeks warming, and instead let your attention wander to the town coming into view.

The sight was mesmerizing. Houses were adorned with glimmering lights that cast a golden glow against the snow. Garlands hung from the lampposts, and proudly lit Christmas trees stood sentinel in nearly every yard. The rich aroma of hot chocolate floated through the air, teasing your senses, while the faint sound of carols sung by a group in the town square reached your ears.

Dean’s deep voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You okay, princess?" he asked with a smirk. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Your head turned instinctively toward him, your wide eyes alight with innocent curiosity. "Its just all of this" you say, gesturing vaguely to the scene outside. "I know humans celebrate Christmas, but this… this is unfamiliar to me."

Dean chuckled at your answer, both brothers are amused and unsurprised. Of course, this was new to you. Raised among angels, your understanding of human traditions was, at best, limited.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, who grinned knowingly. "You’re the big brother" Sam teased, nudging him. "Your job to explain it."

Dean groaned but couldn’t resist the way your expectant gaze lingered on him. Sure, he could face down monsters without flinching, but explaining something as warm and human as Christmas? That was a different kind of challenge. Yet, when he caught your eyes again in the rearview mirror, something inside him softened. You deserved this, he thought. You deserved to know that even in a world filled with darkness, there was still light to be found.

Pulling the car to a stop by the curb, Dean turned to Sam. "You handle the errands" he say, then, flashing you a small smile, he opened his door. “Come on, princess. Let me show you what Christmas is all about.”

You followed him eagerly, stepping out into the snow with childlike wonder as the flurries swirled around you. The town felt like something out of a storybook, blanketed in white, its streets lined with festive decorations.

Dean walked beside you, hands in his pockets, though his attention rarely left you. You, however, were enthralled by the sights and sounds. Occasionally, you darted ahead, drawn by the sparkle of lights or the cheerful laughter of children running past.

"Hold up" Dean called as the two of you passed a cozy café on the corner. He pushed open the door, and a wave of warmth greeted you. Inside, the café was alive with soft chatter, the glow of a Christmas tree in the corner, and the rich scent of coffee and cocoa.

"Take a seat. I’ll be back" Dean said, nodding toward a table near the window.

You obeyed, settling yourself by the glass where you could watch the lively streets. The whole atmosphere felt surreal, as though you were experiencing a dream you hadn’t realized you’d longed for.

Dean returned shortly with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, sitting across from you and sliding one of the mugs into your hands. Its warmth seeped into your fingers, and you hesitated briefly, glancing at Dean. He gave you an encouraging nod, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Bringing the mug to your lips, you took a tentative sip. The flavor was unlike anything you’d ever known, sweet, rich, and comforting. You paused, savoring the sensation before selecting a marshmallow floating on the surface and tasting it. Your eyes widened, your face lighting up like the decorations outside.

"This… this is a miracle" you breathed, your voice filled with wonder.

Dean laughed, a deep, warm sound that filled the cozy space. "Not exactly a miracle, princess. Just one of the little things that makes this season a bit more magical"

As you continued sipping the chocolate, Dean talked about Christmas, its traditions, its meaning, and the joy it brought to people. Listening intently, you found yourself captivated not only by his words but by the way his eyes softened as he spoke, betraying a side of him he rarely showed.

When you set your mug down, a streak of chocolate and foam marked your lips, drawing a crooked grin from Dean.

"Come here" he murmured, leaning forward with a napkin in hand. His thumb brushed your chin gently as he wiped the mess away, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment too long. Something flickered in his eyes hesitation, longing before he pulled back abruptly, focusing on his own drink while you turned your attention, flustered, back to the streets outside.

By the time you left the café, night had fallen, and the town had transformed into a wonderland of light. The golden glow of the decorations reflected off the fresh snow, and you walked beside Dean, lost in the beauty of it all.

"It’s beautiful" you whispered, your voice reverent.

Dean’s lips curved into a faint smile as he watched you. "Still curious little one ?" he teased.

You turned to him with a soft smile of your own. "I… like this. It feels warm, even in the cold" you admitted before looking away again, soaking it all in.

A delicious aroma drew your attention, and you both stopped in front of a bakery. Dean inhaled the scent of gingerbread and apple pie with a contented sigh. "Wait" he said, disappearing inside.When he returned, he handed you a small bag of cookies shaped like trees and stars, covered in green and red icing. You eagerly opened the bag and took a bite of one. "This is amazing," you said, your voice muffled as you chewed.

Dean chuckled. "Welcome to the genius of humanity, princess," he quipped, making you laugh despite yourself.The two of you continued wandering, sharing the cookies, stopping in front of animated storefront displays. At one point, you paused to watch a window filled with mechanical elves assembling toys. Behind you, Dean watched silently, his gaze soft.Normally, he approached Christmas with cynicism, seeing it as an excuse to drink and end the a stranger un bed to forget the world’s darkness. But seeing you now, so fascinated and full of wonder, gave him a new perspective. The realization of his feelings for you hit him like a freight train.

Your steps eventually led you to the town square, where a choir stood on a small stage, their voices carrying over the gathered crowd. The harmonies were rich and soothing, the songs timeless. You found a spot near a large tree adorned with twinkling lights. Without thinking, you stepped closer to Dean, drawn to the warmth of his presence in the frosty air.

Dean noticed but said nothing, draping his arm casually over your shoulders. The gesture was subtle, but it sent your heart into a flurry, though you made no move to pull away.

As the choir sang their final notes and fireworks lit up the sky, Dean’s gaze drifted upward. Hanging just above your heads was a sprig of mistletoe, tied neatly with a red ribbon.

He groaned softly. "You’ve gotta be kidding me" he muttered.

You followed his gaze, your cheeks flushing when you saw the mistletoe. "Is something wrong?"

Dean hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s… uh, tradition. If two people end up under mistletoe, they’re supposed to… you know, kiss"

Your lips parted in surprise, your blush deepening. For a moment, you looked uncertain, but then your expression softened. "If it’s tradition" you whispered, stepping closer and closing your eyes.

Dean’s heart pounded as he closed the distance between you. One hand instinctively found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. His thumb gently caressed the base of your hairline as he tilted your face up toward his.

Your foreheads touched briefly, your breaths mingling in the chilly air, before his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. But as your lips moved against his, he deepened the kiss, his hand anchoring you closer while his other hand found its place on your waist.

Your fingers clutched at his jacket, holding onto him as though he was the only solid thing in the world and for a fleeting moment, the world fell away. The lights, the songs, the snow, all of it blurred into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in the stillness of the night.

[tokkiwrites]

Adstrum in ruinas. | part one.

General Marcus Acacius × F ! Reader

• summary: After your father’s sudden death, the general starts spending more time with you. At first, it feels strange, but as you come to learn, he isn't that big a brute everyone thinks he is.

• kind of slow burn ??, age gap (unspecified), forbidden love, marcus is pretty positive and in love, and he's cute, mutual pining, mentions of death, lmk if i missed anything.

• tokkis note: This is the first part of a little fic i wanted to write. the nsfw smut part will be in part two since this part already has almost 4k words. i just wanted a little backstory, so who knows... if you guys enjoy this part, maybe i will make it into a short series. i have lots of ideas. anyways, enjoy!!!

The palace felt colder after your father’s death. Though the sun still danced across the walls, nothing could have warmed you.

He had always been a quiet man, steady in his craft and in his love for you. You had grown up watching his hands work leather as though it were clay, each stitch meticulous, each touch with purpose. He had poured his life into the emperor’s court, shaping beauty out of necessity, and yet, when his time had come, they had discarded him without hesitation.

Accused of theft, he had been taken swiftly, the charges flimsy, the judgment quick. You had not been allowed to speak on his behalf. No one had. And when his life ended on the blade of the emperor’s justice, the world moved on as though he had never existed. You had not cried when they took him. There had been no time, no space for grief within the stone walls of the palace. Instead, you swallowed it whole, the ache settling deep within your chest, cold and unforgiving. You could not cry. In a way, crying was admitting to the gods that he was no longer, so you did not dare slip one tear. Let the pain seethe.

No one spoke his name. To your face, at least. Not until General Marcus Acacius.

You had known his name long before you ever knew his face. The empire’s greatest general, a man whose victories had carved Rome’s borders, who had spilled oceans of blood in the emperor’s name. He was the kind of man you had only seen from afar—untouchable, his presence a thing of myths whispered amongst men. To you, he was just that: a man. A cruel one.

So when he first appeared in the apothecary, you almost did not believe it was him. “The town speaks of… you,” he said, voice filling the room like the low roll of thunder. You turned sharply, the pestle slipping from your grasp. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad, his figure framed by the dim light spilling in from the corridor. His tunic was torn, a gash running across his arm where blood had soaked through. “So I heard,” he continued, stepping inside, “if it is true—”

“Oh, yes, I—yes, it is true,” you stammered, fumbling for words. His presence unsettled you, though you could not say why. Perhaps it was the way his gaze lingered or faint something in his tone. It was different this time. “I understand. You have my condolences,” he said. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Something in your heart fluttered. “Thank you, General.” He was not a monster. Not here with you, not now, at least. It seemed sincere enough. You looked him up and down. Why did the blood keep on trickling? For a moment, you thought he might say more, but he simply gestured to his arm. “May I trouble you for assistance?” No monster.

At first, you thought nothing of his visits.

They were sporadic, a few days apart—always under the pretense of some new injury. A cut from a sparring match. A dislocated shoulder. The aches and pains of a soldier’s life. He came to you because it was easier than seeking the palace’s physicians, or so you told yourself. But then the days stretched into weeks, and his appearances grew more frequent.

You noticed the small ways in which he lingered. The way his eyes followed you as you moved about the room, the way his voice softened when he addressed you. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as the days passed, you found yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

For even when he was far, his touch still lingered, you were still drunken on his smell, and his eyes still loved yours.

One evening, as you prepared a salve by the fire, he spoke. “Your father was a great man.” You froze, your hands stilling over the mortar. “I remember his work,” Marcus continued, his voice low. “He made my first pair of riding boots. I was just a young man then.” You swallowed dry, willing your voice to remain steady. “He never spoke of you.”

“No, I suppose he would not have.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because he deserved better,” Marcus said simply. The words struck something deep within you. You looked away, vision blurring as the firelight flickered. Better.

He was all you could think about. Each night, from the first, you would sing sweet, mournful songs to the moon. Maybe it was because you missed your father dearly, and he filled that space up almost perfectly. Or maybe because, when he was with you, he did not seem to be the seven-headed monster all saw him as. Maybe pretending was his virtue.

But you were not the last judgment.

“Why are you always here?” you asked, voice sharper than you intended. He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the floor. “Do you not want me here?” A smile played on his lips. “That is not what I said.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because I do not understand.” You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “You never cared before. Why now?” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “It is nothing,” he said at last.

“It is not nothing,” you pressed. “You are avoiding the truth.”

He looked at you then, his expression guarded but not unkind. “And if I told you the truth, would you thank me for it? Or curse me for what I know?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What is it that you mean?” Marcus hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue. “Your father,” he said finally. “He did not die because of the charges. He died because they needed a scapegoat. The emperor needed to remind the court what happens when you step out of line.” The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in around you. “You knew?”

“I tried to stop it,” he said quietly. “But there are things even I cannot change.”

You shook your head, the ache in your chest threatening to overwhelm you. “I do not need your protection, Marcus. I do not need anyone’s.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was something raw in his eyes. “But you have it anyway.”

You wanted to be angry with him. You wanted to scream, to push him away, but instead, you stood there, frozen, as he reached for you. His hands were rough, calloused from years of battle, but they cradled your face with a tenderness that left you breathless. You craved it. And you will crave it until the day you are no more.

“I care for you more than I have ever cared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that terrifies me.”

Whatever happened to honor and victory? It was brutal. He was brutal. Raw, bloody, and utterly inhuman. But how could he also be the quiet after the storm? The wind that travels over still waters, the sound of dawn over mountains of dead people? You had to treat him many times, but the wounds he had inside his heart came well over the ones on his skin, you think.

You didn’t want to think of him—Marcus, with his dark eyes and the way they seemed to unravel you each time they met your own. But he lingered, even when he wasn’t here. He lingered in the soft creak of the door, the faint scent of leather and iron that clung to the air after he’d gone. It wasn’t fair, how much space he took in your thoughts. How much warmth he brought into this cold, empty life. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more.

“You work too hard.” You glanced up, startled by the suddenness of his words. He was seated by the fire, his armor stripped away, leaving only the simple tunic beneath. His shoulders were broad, his posture commanding even in repose. “You say that as though there’s an alternative,” you replied, turning back to the herbs in your hands.

“You could rest,” he said simply. “And do what? Dream of better days?” The bitterness in your voice surprised even you. Marcus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You deserve better days.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you set the pestle down and met his gaze. “Better days won’t bring my father back.”

“No,” he agreed. “But they might give you something to hope for.” You shook your head, unwilling to let yourself be drawn into his optimism. “Hope is for fools, General.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But sometimes, it’s all we have.”

He wanted to hold you, to let his body meld with yours, ask you to run away to far lands. Let him take care of you, make you have his babies. Love you until there's nothing left.

but he couldn't.

“What would you do with better days?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Marcus’s gaze lifted, startled by the question. He leaned back in his chair, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the dim room.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. he did know. he'd spend them with you. oh, silly it all felt. “I stopped imagining them a long time ago.” You paused, your fingers stilling over a jar. “You must have thought about it. When you were younger, before…” You trailed off, uncertain how to finish the sentence. “Before the blood?” he supplied, his tone sharper than you expected. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. Once.” still.

“And?”

He hesitated, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “And it doesn’t matter. The man I am now... he has no place in better days.” Something in your chest ached at his words, though you couldn’t say why. You wanted to reach for him, to close the distance between you and tell him he was wrong. But you didn’t. Instead, you lowered your gaze and returned to your work, your voice quiet. “That’s a pity.”

The days stretched into weeks, and though you tried to resist, the threads of your lives intertwined in ways you couldn’t untangle. Marcus became a constant presence, his visits no longer marked by the pretense of injuries. He came for you, though neither of you dared to speak it aloud.

Each touch, each glance, was a betrayal of the barriers you had built around yourself. Yet, you let him break them piece by piece, unable to deny the pull that drew you closer.

One night, as the apothecary lay bathed in moonlight, he found you humming an old melody—a song your father had sung on quiet nights. The tune was bittersweet, a memory wrapped in longing. Marcus lingered in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the room.

“I’ve heard that before,” he said softly.

You turned, startled. “My father used to sing it.” He nodded, stepping closer. “It suits you. Beautiful and haunting.” You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t sing much anymore.”

“You should.”

He was close now, close enough that you could see the faint scar that ran along his jaw, the one you’d traced with your eyes so many times but never dared to touch. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because it’s part of you,” he said simply. “And I want to know all of you.” His words left you breathless, the weight of them settling in your chest. You wanted to pull away, to guard the fragile thing that was growing between you, but you couldn’t.

But people talk.

They talk in whispers that snake through the palace walls, slithering through cracks and beneath doors. Whispers of his visits, of his presence in the apothecary, of the time he lingers where he should not. They do not speak to you directly, but you can feel their words coiling around your throat, tightening with every passing day.

You hear them behind you when you walk through the halls: the sharp staccato of hurried footsteps, the low murmur of voices that stop the moment you turn. You catch glimpses of knowing glances, the way the maids shift their eyes when you enter a room, how the guards avert their gazes.

They all know, and yet they know nothing.

Because what is there to know? You have not touched him beyond necessity, have not dared to let your hand linger when you tend his wounds. And yet, the air between you is thick, suffused with something that neither of you has the courage to name.

“You should not come here anymore,” It was late. The apothecary was empty, save for the two of you. You stood with your back to him, arranging jars on the shelves in some vain attempt to distract yourself from the weight of his presence.

“I will decide what I should or should not do,” Marcus replied, his voice steady. You turned to face him, exasperation rising in your chest. “They talk, Marcus. Do you not see the danger in that? For you— for me?” His expression changed fast. “I cannot stop them from speaking,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “And I will not stop coming.”

“Why?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you care what happens to me? Why do you risk so much just to be here?”

He did not answer immediately. His gaze flicked over your face, searching for something, though you could not say what. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy. “Because you deserve better than this,” he said. “Better than what the court has given you. Just... better." You shook your head, chest tightening. “That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I can give you,” he said, stepping closer. “For now." But deep down, you knew better.

And you hated him for it, too.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said one night, his voice breaking the silence. You froze, your hands stilling over the poultice you were preparing. “What?”

“Do not deny it,” Marcus said, his tone softer now. “I know that look. I have seen it on too many faces not to recognize it.” You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “And what look is that?”

“The one that says you hate me as much as you try to fight it." The words struck you like a blow, and you turned to face him, your cheeks burning. “I do not—”

“You do,” he said simply, cutting you off. “And I do not blame you for it.”

His gaze was steady, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might say more, but instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. “I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I hope for it, all the same.” You did not hate him. you wish you could, because falling in love wasn't what you wanted right now.

“I think about you,” Marcus admitted, his voice raw. “More than I should. More than is safe.” Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as his words sank in. “You shouldn’t,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. “I know.”

The silence between you stretched.

“But why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why do you care now, after all this time? You never gave me an answer, Marcus..."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Because I see you,” he said finally. “And I see myself in you—the parts of me I thought were dead. The parts I’ve tried to bury.” You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I don’tㅡ Marcus, if this is all a game to you, of things you want to rediscover within you..."

"It is not. I do not intend to play with your heart."

So why does the blood keep on trickling?

They were wildflowers, clearly gathered from the edges of the palace gardens, and they looked out of place in his calloused hands. He held them out awkwardly, his expression somewhere between defiance and vulnerability, as though he expected you to scold him for the gesture. “For you,” he said simply. You stared at them for a moment, then at him. “Why?” you couldn’t help but smile. “Do I need a reason?” His tone was defensive, but the softness in his gaze betrayed him. No monster.

Your fingers brushed against his as you took the flowers, and he flinched almost imperceptibly, as if the touch burned him. “They’re beautiful,” you said. He didn’t reply, but you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch— an almost-smile, there and gone in an instant.

“Are you trying to court me, General?” you asked, half-joking. The question caught him off guard, and he looked at you with something close to panic in his eyes. “No.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Good. You’d be terrible at it.” But the truth was, you didn’t hate the thought.

He started threatening the others after that.

The first time, you hadn’t been there to see it, but you heard about it from one of the maids who whispered to you in passing. “The general,” she said, her eyes wide. “He nearly broke Marcellus’s arm. All because he said something about you.”

He didn’t deny it. “He should not have said what he did,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “What did he say?”

“It does not matter.”

“Marcus—”

“It does not matter,” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “What matters is that he will not say it again.”

You wanted to argue with him, to tell him he couldn’t go around threatening people in your name. But the truth was, a part of you was glad. A part of you wanted him to protect you. He didn’t just watch over you—he hovered, his presence a constant shadow that both comforted and unnerved you. When he wasn’t by your side, you found yourself looking for him, craving his presence like air. And when he was with you, you felt safer than you had since your father’s death.

Days passed, and though you told yourself you should push him away, you could not.

He was always there, like a storm on the horizon—inevitable, impossible to ignore. You felt his presence even when he was not near, his voice echoing in your mind, his touch lingering on your skin.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your heart leapt when you heard his footsteps, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours. You tried to convince yourself it meant nothing, that it was a passing infatuation born of grief and the fact that he so happened to be there. You tried to convince yourself that the soft yearning in your chest was fleeting. A passing fancy, born of loneliness and the way Marcus had carved out a space in your world so effortlessly.

But as the days turned to weeks, the intensity of your feelings betrayed you. Every glance he cast your way lingered. Every word he spoke seemed to reverberate in your mind long after it had been said.

And every time his hand brushed against yours—whether by accident or intent—it felt as if the earth shifted beneath your feet.

It was one of those moments now. The two of you stood side by side in the apothecary, the late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows. He was reaching for a jar of herbs on the shelf above, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned closer.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back quickly, your movements too sharp, too sudden. “Am I in your way?” Marcus asked, his voice low and amused. “No,” you said hastily, turning to busy yourself with a mortar and pestle. “Not at all.” He did not move, and you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering. “You always do that,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful.

“Do what?”

“Step away.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” he said quietly. There was no accusation in his voice, only a gentle insistence. “You step away as if the space will make it easier. But it does not, does it?” Your fingers tightened around the pestle. “Marcus—”

“I feel it too,” he said, cutting you off. The words hung between you, raw and unvarnished. You stared at him, your heart pounding. “You should not say that.”

“Why not? Because it is the truth?” He stepped closer, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “Because I look at you and I can think of nothing else? Because when I leave here, all I want is to come back?”

“Marcus, stop.” Your voice was trembling now, a plea more than a command. “I cannot stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I do not think you can, either.” The room seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with something that felt too big for your soul to understand. “Tell me to leave,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “If this is too much, if I have crossed a line, say the word, and I will go.” You opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue. But they would not come. Because no matter how much you told yourself this was dangerous, reckless, wrong. you did not want him to go.

You did not step back this time. “I cannot,” you whispered, the words breaking free like a confession. His breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he reached for you, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I do not know how to do this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I do not know what happens now.”

what is this pandora box you have opened?

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was raw and consuming, as though he’d been holding back a storm and now it was unleashed. His hands slid to frame your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his lips claimed yours. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt. And, oh, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Your hands found his tunic, clutching the fabric as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His scent filling your lungs, his warmth, the feel of him, it was too much and not enough all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t…”

“You did,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. “And I didn’t stop you.” His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, but his eyes remained serious. “Say the word, and I’ll walk away. I swear it.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. But then you shook your head, your hand lifting to brush against his cheek. “I wil not say it.” His eyes closed briefly, as though your words had physically hit him. When he opened them again, they were softer, full of something you couldn’t name but felt in every corner of your soul.

“Then I am yours,” he murmured. “For as long as you’ll have me.” You leaned up, your lips brushing against his once more. A promise, a surrender, a beginning.