bookloover35

[bookloover35]

Secret love part 2.

The war between the gods had begun to take shape, and every day at Camp Half-Blood seemed to carry more tension than the last. As the prophecy loomed, you could feel the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. You could only pretend so long that your relationship with Luke was a secret—especially when the world outside was unraveling.

You had known that this moment might come. The moment where the quiet whispers of betrayal turned into reality. But nothing could have prepared you for how it would feel when Luke finally chose his path, a path that tore everything you believed in apart.

It started slowly. The cracks in his resolve were subtle at first—disagreements with Chiron, late-night disappearances, secret conversations by the training arena. But you had always been able to see through him, to see the conflicted look in his eyes. He wasn't happy. You knew that deep down, but you never expected he would turn on the camp... on you.

It was a warm evening when you first noticed something off. Percy had gone off to talk to Annabeth, and you had taken your usual walk toward the woods, hoping to find some peace in the quiet before the storm. But as you stepped into the familiar clearing, you saw him. Luke. Standing with a figure you didn't recognize.

You froze behind a tree, hidden in the shadows. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Luke's voice was low, urgent, and there was something dangerous in the air. The figure in front of him wore a dark cloak, the symbol of the Titans faintly glowing on their chest.

"You're sure they'll fall for it?" the figure asked, his voice muffled and low.

Luke's expression was unreadable, his usual warmth gone. "They will. I've been feeding them information for months. The camp will be caught off guard. It's the only way."

The words hit you like a dagger. Luke... he's working with them.

A sickening feeling twisted in your stomach. You could hear your pulse in your ears, the world spinning as you processed what was happening. Luke—the boy you loved—was betraying everything. Betraying the camp. Betraying you.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move. All you could do was watch as Luke nodded to the cloaked figure and turned to leave. He didn't see you standing there, hidden by the shadows, but you saw him clearly.

As he disappeared into the trees, a flood of emotions washed over you—anger, heartbreak, confusion. You had always known there were cracks in him, but you never imagined he would shatter everything like this. Not like this.

Without thinking, you rushed back toward the camp. You needed to find Percy. You needed to tell him what you had learned—before it was too late.

The camp was in chaos. The warm glow of the campfire was now overshadowed by shouts and panic. The sky above was thick with tension, as though the heavens themselves were preparing for a battle. You found Percy near the main pavilion, his face pale and his eyes wide with concern.

"(Y/N), what's going on?" he asked, looking around nervously.

"Percy," you said, grabbing his arm, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. "Luke... Luke is working with the Titans. He's betraying the camp."

Percy's face drained of color. "No. You're lying, that's—"

"I saw him," you interrupted, your voice rising. "I saw him talking to one of them. He's been feeding them information. Everything. The camp's defenses. The locations of the barriers. Everything we've worked for."

A cold silence fell between the two of you. Percy's face twisted in disbelief, and the realization hit him like a slap. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He shook his head as if trying to will the truth away.

"I don't know what happened to him, Percy," you said, your voice cracking. "I don't understand. He... he told me he was doing this for us—for the future. But I didn't want to believe it. I didn't think he'd go this far."

Percy's gaze hardened, and you saw the familiar anger building within him. He was a protector at his core, and the thought of his friend—his brother—betraying them cut deep.

"We need to stop him," Percy said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You can't stop him," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not now. He's too far gone. He chose this, Percy. He chose them."

A bitter laugh escaped Percy's lips, and he clenched his fists. "And you? What about you? All this time, you've been with him. You knew, didn't you?"

You flinched, the accusation hanging in the air like a heavy weight. The truth had been exposed, and now there was no going back. "I... I loved him, Percy. But I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this to happen."

The betrayal in your brother's eyes cut deeper than anything Luke had ever done. You had hoped he would understand. That he would see that this wasn't just about the war—it was about you, too. But as the tension between you both grew, you knew there was no easy way out.

Percy took a step back, his eyes hardening. "You don't get to be a part of this, (Y/N). You've made your choice."

With that, Percy turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the chaos of the camp. The ground beneath you felt like it was shifting, like everything you knew had been turned upside down. Your heart ached for Luke, but it ached even more for the family you had just lost.

Luke had chosen the Titans. And now, you were forced to choose a side as well.

[bookloover35]

Secret love// Luke Castellan.

You had always been the protector of your little brother, Percy. Growing up, you kept him out of trouble, watched over him when he was scared, and made sure he always felt safe. But ever since you had arrived at Camp Half-Blood, things had changed. Percy had found his place among the other demigods, his own group of friends, and soon became the hero he was always destined to be.

But there was something you never expected, something you couldn't have prepared for. And that was Luke.

It had started innocently enough. You'd been drawn to his mysterious energy, the way his golden hair seemed to shine even in the dimmest of campfire light. His quiet intensity intrigued you, and his gentle demeanor contrasted the darkness lurking in his eyes. The more you saw him around camp, the more you began to admire him, but you didn't know then that your admiration would turn into something far more dangerous: a secret love.

At first, it had just been stolen glances. Small smiles exchanged when no one else was watching, lingering touches when passing through the forest or by the camp's weapons shed. But soon, those touches turned into something more. The stolen glances became moments of intense connection, shared words under the stars that no one else could hear. Luke's touch on your arm would leave you breathless, and when his lips brushed against your cheek in the shadows of the training arena, you knew that you were both caught in something neither of you could escape.

The hardest part, though, was knowing that you couldn't tell Percy. You couldn't tell anyone. Luke was the son of Hermes, someone who had once been a friend to your brother, and you knew that revealing your feelings for him would only bring more pain and confusion to your little brother, especially with all the chaos already surrounding him. So you kept your secret, buried it deep within your heart, and continued to pretend that you were just like everyone else.

But tonight was different.

You sat at the edge of the campfire, Percy at your side, laughing and chatting with Annabeth and Grover. They were discussing the latest training session, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Luke was near the forest's edge, leaning against a tree, his eyes locked onto you. You smiled softly, and he returned the look with a small smirk, his gaze flickering towards the others before stepping quietly into the shadows.

Your heart raced. You knew that he would come for you soon.

"I'm going to grab some more ambrosia," you said to Percy, standing up with a casual stretch. "Be back in a sec."

Without waiting for a response, you walked toward the forest, each step quickening your heartbeat. As you passed the trees, you spotted him waiting for you just behind a thick patch of bushes. Without a word, Luke reached for your hand, pulling you into his embrace. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but his warmth was enough to make you forget everything else.

"You sure you're okay?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't look like you're in the mood for all of this."

You nodded, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. "I'm just... tired of pretending. Tired of keeping this a secret."

Luke's hand gently cupped your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek. "I know. But we have to, at least for now. It's not safe."

"I know," you whispered, stepping closer to him, your fingers brushing the soft fabric of his tunic. "But I hate it. I hate that I can't be honest."

Luke's gaze softened, and he pulled you into his arms. "I hate it too," he murmured. "But we'll be okay. I promise."

You rested your head on his chest, taking in the familiar scent of pine and the faintest hint of campfire smoke. In this moment, there was no prophecy, no hero's journey. Just you and him, together in the quiet night, surrounded by the chaos of the camp, yet far removed from it all.

[bookloover35]

Tides of destiny 2.

The battle had raged for hours, smoke and fire filling the sky as the forces of Galbatorix clashed with those of the Varden. You had fought with all the strength of a dragon rider, Veyra's wings cutting through the air with speed and precision. But when you had seen Murtagh, trapped beneath a fallen pillar, a jolt of panic had coursed through you, stronger than any fear you had faced before.

"Hold on!" you cried, urging Veyra forward.

Your dragon roared, soaring over the chaos to reach him. Murtagh's face was pale, his body pinned beneath the stone, a look of pain etched on his features. His sword lay just out of reach, the grip of his hand barely clinging to it.

"Murtagh!" you shouted, your heart racing as you flew down beside him. "I'm here."

He looked up at you, a weak smile forming despite the situation. "I knew you'd come for me."

"Don't talk," you commanded, a surge of urgency flowing through you. "We'll get you out of here."

With a cry of determination, you dismounted Veyra and knelt beside him, using your strength to lift the heavy stone just enough for him to pull free. The effort was exhausting, but you couldn't stop. Not when he needed you.

When the last stone rolled away, Murtagh gasped in relief but grimaced at the pain from his injuries. Blood stained his clothes, and his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. You pressed your hand to his shoulder, trying to steady him.

"You should rest," you said softly, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "We'll get you somewhere safe."

But Murtagh shook his head, his expression more serious than before. "You saved me. I... I owe you my life."

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his usual walls were starting to crumble. He wanted to say something, but the words didn't come.

"You don't owe me anything," you whispered. "But I can't do this without you. Not anymore."

The silence between you stretched for a moment, the world around you seeming to fall away. The distant sounds of war and chaos faded into the background as the two of you shared a moment of calm. Slowly, Murtagh's hand found yours, and his fingers tightened around yours in a way that made your heart race.

"Don't leave me," Murtagh whispered, his voice hoarse. "Not again."

You gazed into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and fear that he had never shown before. He was broken in ways no one else could understand, yet in that moment, he was asking for something that took all his courage to admit.

"Never," you replied, leaning in closer.

The world felt still as you leaned down and kissed him, gently at first, then deeper, the connection between you both undeniable. In the chaos of war and the shadow of their enemies, you had found something neither of you expected—a bond stronger than steel, forged through trust, sacrifice, and love.

When you finally pulled away, Murtagh's forehead rested against yours, his breath steadying as he smiled faintly.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured, but you shook your head.

"You've always had me," you said softly. "You just had to let yourself believe it."

The roar of battle began to echo once more in the distance, but this time, you weren't afraid. You had Murtagh by your side, and together, with your dragons, you could face anything.

Hand in hand, you stood up, ready to fight once more. But this time, there was something more than just survival at stake. There was hope. There was love.

And no force in the world could tear that apart.

[bookloover35]

Tides of destiny// Murtagh.

The cool night air swept through the forest as you sat atop the ridge, the moonlight shimmering on the scales of your dragon, Veyra. Her wings stretched out, casting shadows on the ground below. You had always shared a special bond with her, ever since the day you both had been bonded in the depths of the Spine. But tonight, that bond felt different. Stronger.

Your thoughts, however, were clouded by the presence of someone else—a familiar figure approaching from the distance. Murtagh.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" you called down to him as he drew nearer, his footsteps quiet but purposeful.

Murtagh's dark eyes met yours, his face unreadable, the weight of his past hanging heavily around him. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his voice laced with a mix of weariness and something else you couldn't place.

You knew his struggles. You had seen the burdens he carried. You had seen his inner conflict, torn between the legacy of his father, the twisted influence of Galbatorix, and his own path.

"You should stop trying to carry the world on your shoulders," you said softly, as Veyra snorted beside you, her bright golden eyes gleaming in the dark.

Murtagh didn't answer at first, his gaze lingering on you and your dragon. You had always been strong, never afraid to show your power. It was one of the reasons he admired you, even if he would never admit it.

"Eragon always says you're the one who can see through people," he finally said, his voice softer now. "What do you see when you look at me?"

You paused. There was so much to say, so many things you could point out. But instead, you let your eyes soften, and for a moment, you allowed the truth to emerge in your heart.

"I see a man torn between his destiny and his heart," you said simply. "But I also see someone who's not alone anymore."

Murtagh's eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a glint of something—maybe hope—beneath his guarded expression. He took a step closer, and Veyra let out a small rumble, sensing the shift in the air.

"You're right," Murtagh said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have... I have my own path to walk, one that doesn't have to be shaped by my father's mistakes."

Your heart ached at his words, but there was a spark of something more powerful rising within you—the same strength you had felt the first time you took flight on Veyra's back.

"You don't have to face it alone, Murtagh," you said, reaching out and touching his arm gently, the connection between you both as electric as it had always been. "No matter what, we will stand together. You have family, whether you believe it or not."

For the first time in a long while, Murtagh let out a breath and gave a small, but genuine smile. It wasn't the smile of a man who had all the answers, but it was the smile of someone who had, perhaps, found a little peace.

"I never thought I'd have a sister," Murtagh admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "But I think... I think it might be the only thing I've ever wanted."

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, watching the stars above. The night felt different now. The weight on Murtagh's shoulders seemed a little lighter, and the bond between you both was something neither of you could deny anymore.

As Veyra gave a soft growl of approval, you knew that no matter where the winds of fate would carry you next, the ties of family and destiny were stronger than any storm. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren't just fighting to survive—but fighting for something worth protecting.

[bookloover35]

Infernal sovereignty// Blackheart.

The flames of Hell crackled and roared around the darkened courtyard, their crimson hue casting an eerie glow on the blackened stone of the Underworld. The air smelled of sulfur and molten metal, but it was in this oppressive, tormenting place that Blackheart—son of the demon lord Mephisto—felt his power most acutely.

He stood alone at the center of the courtyard, his sharp eyes narrowed as he surveyed the realm he would soon command. His plan had always been to overthrow his father, to rule this dark domain with an iron fist. But as time went on, a new thought started to form in his mind—a thought of her.

The first time Blackheart laid eyes on you, he was struck with an emotion he hadn't even known he was capable of. You were a demon, like him, but your essence was unlike any he had ever encountered. Powerful, untamed, and yet... undeniably regal. You weren't like the others who sought power for the mere sake of power. No, you radiated a command that came from the deepest parts of the inferno.

He had come to know you through whispers in the dark halls of Hell, rumors of your existence, your influence. But when he finally saw you with his own eyes, standing on the precipice of the Hellfire Abyss, his heart had faltered—not in fear, but in a rare, dangerous desire. You were as much a ruler as he aspired to be, and for the first time, he knew what it meant to crave something more than domination.

You stood there now, dark flames dancing at the tips of your fingers, eyes glowing with ancient knowledge. Your presence alone seemed to warp the very air around you, as though you could bend reality itself with a single thought.

"Do you feel it too?" he spoke softly, his voice a smooth growl, but there was a hint of reverence in his tone. His eyes never left yours, watching with the intensity of a predator studying its prey.

You turned to face him, your gaze piercing and calculating. "I feel your ambition," you said, your voice a mixture of fire and ice. "But it's not enough, Blackheart. Not without me."

The words rang in his ears, sending a shiver of heat through his core. He took a step forward, moving towards you, his body pulsing with dark energy. "You think you can control me?" he sneered, though there was no malice behind it—only the sharp edge of curiosity.

Your lips curled into a smirk, an expression that was both playful and terrifying. "I don't need to control you. I am your equal, Blackheart. Together, we will rule this place as it was meant to be ruled."

The firelight in your eyes flickered brighter, and in an instant, you were upon him, your power crashing against his like a tidal wave. His hands instinctively rose to meet yours, both of you locked in a battle of wills, the ground beneath you trembling as you clashed. But he realized, even in the heat of the moment, he wasn't fighting against you—he was fighting beside you.

"You would have me as your queen?" Your voice was both a challenge and a command, and his heart raced at the mere suggestion.

"I would have you as more than that," Blackheart said, his voice hushed with raw, intense need. "You would be my equal, my sovereign. Together, we can dethrone my father. We can take everything he holds, and burn it all to ash."

You met his gaze with a sly, calculating look. "And what would we do with that power once we have it?"

"Destroy," he said simply, his eyes glowing as he thought of the possibilities. "And rebuild. But this time, in our image, as it should be."

The two of you stood together, a perfect union of fire and fury, demons bound by the infernal bloodline, your eyes locked in mutual understanding and desire. He could feel it now, this unspoken bond between you, stronger than the most potent magic. It wasn't just about power—it was about ruling Hell, together, as king and queen. A perfect pair.

"I think you're right," you said with a wicked smile. "Hell will be ours."

He smiled back, that same dangerous smirk lighting up his face. "As it was always meant to be."

And in that moment, Blackheart knew, as sure as the flames that burned beneath his feet, that you were not just a part of his future—you were his future.

Together, you would carve a new path through Hell, a reign of unimaginable power and destruction.

As the flames of your shared fury burned higher, Blackheart's heart—if it could be called that—beat with a singular purpose.

You, his Queen, his equal, were the only being in this world who could ever match him.

[bookloover35]

Midnight Ride//Daryl Dixon.

The prison was quieter than usual that night. The distant sounds of the camp—people talking, doors creaking, the guards' patrols—faded into the stillness of the dark hours. You lay awake, unable to sleep. Too many thoughts, too many restless feelings tangled in your mind, keeping you from finding peace.

You slipped out of bed, careful not to wake anyone, and quietly made your way down the dimly lit corridor. The cool air felt welcoming as you pushed open the door leading outside. The prison yard was empty, the moon casting long shadows across the gravel. You needed a moment of quiet, a chance to breathe, even if it was just for a while.

As you moved toward the edge of the yard, you spotted him—Daryl. He was leaning against the railing near the motorcycle, his crossbow casually resting on the ground beside him. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes tracing the sky as if looking for something beyond the prison walls.

You hesitated for a moment, then walked toward him. "Can't sleep?" you asked softly.

Daryl didn't turn around immediately but nodded in acknowledgment. "Nah," he answered, his voice quiet but steady. "Just needed some air."

You stood next to him, unsure whether to break the silence or let it stretch on. But when he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing just slightly, you saw a glimmer of something—an offer, an invitation.

"You wanna ride?" he asked, voice gruff.

It wasn't a question that required much thought. The idea of leaving the prison, even if just for a moment, felt like freedom in a world that offered little of it. Without another word, you followed him to the motorcycle, the night air cool against your skin.

Daryl kicked the engine to life, and the rumble of the bike filled the silence between you two. He didn't glance back as you climbed onto the back, your hands instinctively finding their place around his waist. The familiar warmth of his body, the steady beat of his movements, made you feel more at ease than you had in days.

As the bike roared forward, you pressed closer to him, the wind rushing by as the world blurred into the background. The prison, the walls, the weight of the world—everything was forgotten for a while. There was only the hum of the engine, the cold air, and Daryl, as solid and unwavering as the bike beneath you.

No words were spoken between you two. It wasn't necessary. The only sound was the engine's roar as the road stretched out before you, dark and endless. With each mile, the tension between you seemed to fade, leaving only the unspoken connection you'd shared for so long.

Eventually, Daryl slowed the bike, guiding it to a stop beside an old, weathered barn that seemed forgotten by time. The engine fell quiet, and the night wrapped around you both like a blanket.

You slid off the bike, your legs a little unsteady, still feeling the rush of the ride. Daryl followed, standing next to you, his usual gruff exterior softening in the cool night air. The silence stretched on, but it felt comfortable, peaceful—something rare in a world filled with constant danger.

After a long moment, he glanced at you, his eyes studying your face. "Better?"

You nodded, your chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline of the ride. "Yeah," you whispered. "Much better."

Without another word, Daryl stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart beat faster. His hand reached up, gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. The air between you two seemed to hum with unspoken tension.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant, as though testing the waters. But when you responded, when your hands tightened around his waist and you pulled him closer, the kiss deepened, and everything else fell away.

For that brief moment, there was nothing but him and you—the connection you shared, the rawness of the kiss, the quiet of the night. When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, the world seemed to slow down, and all the fears, the uncertainties, melted into the darkness.

"Guess I'm not the only one who needed a break," he murmured, his voice rougher than usual.

You smiled softly, still caught in the moment. "Guess not."

You stood there together, the night unfolding around you, the weight of the world fading away as you realized that, for once, it was just the two of you—no expectations, no worries, just this stolen moment of peace.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything might just be okay.

[bookloover35]

A heart of stone and a Hobbits love// Thorin.

The evening sky was a warm shade of orange as the company made camp outside the Iron Hills, the familiar sound of crackling firewood filling the air. You, a hobbit with a round belly, sat nestled close to Thorin Oakenshield, his protective arm draped around you as he kept his gaze on the flickering flames.

"It's hard to believe our little one will be here soon," you said softly, placing a hand over your swollen belly.

Thorin's usually stern face softened as he looked down at you. "Aye, it feels like just yesterday we were talking about this. Time moves fast."

Fili and Kili, the two youngest dwarves, had been bustling about, pretending not to notice the conversation, but you could see their concern hidden in their eyes. They had grown attached to you and your growing child over the months since you joined their journey, and it was clear they worried about you, especially now that you were so close to your due date.

Suddenly, the quiet evening was shattered by a sharp gasp from you. You doubled over, clutching your belly, eyes wide with shock. Thorin's hand shot out instinctively to steady you.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, his voice low but urgent.

"I... I think it's time," you whispered, panting. "The baby... I think the baby's coming!"

Thorin's face went pale as he looked at you. "What?" he exclaimed, his strong voice breaking. "Now? Here?"

"Yes, Thorin," you said with a small, pained smile. "Right now."

Fili and Kili, who had been lingering just a few paces away, froze. Their eyes darted to each other in pure panic. Neither of them had any idea what to do.

"Kili!" Fili shouted, looking at his brother with wide eyes. "Go get someone! Someone who knows how to help! We can't—"

"I'm not leaving you alone with her!" Kili interrupted, his voice panicked as he rushed over to you and Thorin. "What do we do? Thorin, you've had a child before, right? You've—"

Thorin stood, looking more like a wild animal than a king, his face now a mixture of fear and determination. "I've never had a child, Kili," he snapped, trying to maintain composure. "And neither have you."

You gave a soft laugh, the tension in your body easing a little. "Calm down, you two. It's just a baby. I'll be fine."

"Just a baby?" Fili said in disbelief, running his hand through his hair, clearly trying to hold himself together. "You're having a baby, (Y/N)! How are we supposed to..."

Thorin gritted his teeth. "Fili, Kili, stop acting like a pair of frightened children. We need to get her somewhere more comfortable."

"But what do we do?" Kili asked, eyes wide with panic as he hovered near you.

Thorin gave a quick, firm nod and lifted you gently in his arms, despite your protests. "We're moving to a safer place. Keep up, both of you. It'll be fine."

Despite their fumbling and the chaos of the situation, the dwarves managed to create a small, secluded space in the camp. Thorin knelt beside you as you labored, his strong hands brushing back your hair in a rare moment of tenderness. The chaos around him seemed to disappear as he focused entirely on you.

"You're doing well," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm here."

You squeezed his hand as another wave of pain hit. "I know, Thorin. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be fine."

The tension in the air was palpable, but the calming presence of Thorin helped keep your nerves steady. It wasn't until the final push that Fili and Kili truly understood the gravity of the situation. They watched, helpless but deeply concerned, as you gave one final, exhausted cry of relief.

And then, the silence.

Fili's breath hitched. "Is it... is it over?"

Kili leaned forward, unable to contain his excitement. "Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

Thorin's deep voice rumbled in the stillness as he looked at you, his eyes shining with unspoken emotion. "It's a girl," he murmured, holding the tiny baby in his arms. "A beautiful little girl."

Tears welled in Fili's eyes as he stepped forward, his hands trembling as he reached out to carefully touch the small hand of the newborn. "She's... she's perfect."

Kili let out a whoop of joy, not caring how loud he was. "A niece!" he cheered, his face lighting up with pride. "She's going to be amazing!"

The two brothers took turns marveling at the baby as you held her close to your chest, your heart full as you looked up at Thorin. He smiled softly, his usual stoic face full of unspoken love. "Our family, (Y/N). Our family."

And as the stars began to twinkle above the quiet camp, you, Thorin, Fili, Kili, and the newest member of your little family sat together, surrounded by love and the promise of new beginnings.

[bookloover35]

Meeting the Mercers 2.

The Mercer house was buzzing with energy as you and Jack made your way into the living room, following his brothers. The air was lighthearted and filled with the chatter and laughter of family, but there was a certain playful tension that Jack seemed to exude when Bobby was around. You noticed Bobby eyeing the two of you with an amused smirk, as though something was brewing in his mind.

The evening had wound down, and the dinner plates were cleared away. Jack and his brothers were sitting on the couch, with you beside him, nestled close to his side. You could feel Jack's arm around your shoulders, and you couldn't help but smile at the way he looked at you, his gaze soft and full of affection. It was clear that he was completely wrapped up in you.

"Look at you, Jack," Bobby's voice broke through the comfortable silence, his tone teasing. "You're practically glowing."

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "I'm not glowing, Bobby. I just like spending time with (Y/N)."

"Oh, we know," Bobby said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "It's obvious to anyone who's been paying attention. You're in deep, huh?"

Jack shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you as if to pull you even closer. "You know I am. So what?"

Bobby chuckled, giving a knowing look to Jeremiah and Angel. "What's funny, Jack, is I've never seen you so whipped." He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, look at you. You're always talking about how amazing she is. You've got that goofy smile on your face anytime her name comes up." Bobby's grin widened as Jack's cheeks flushed slightly. "You're acting like a guy who just found the one. Isn't that right?"

You could see Jack trying to hide his smile, but it was clear he wasn't going to get out of this easily. Angel laughed beside you, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. "Damn, Bobby, tell him how it is. This man is in love." He waggled his eyebrows in exaggerated fashion.

Jack glared at his brothers, but his attempt to look unbothered didn't fool anyone. He was definitely feeling the heat from all sides. You couldn't help but laugh, a little embarrassed but also flattered by the attention. Jack, though, wasn't going to back down.

"Alright, alright, enough. You're all making it sound like I've suddenly gone soft." Jack leaned back, trying to play it cool. But then he turned to you, and his expression softened. "But if I have, it's because (Y/N) is worth it."

You smiled at him, your heart skipping a beat as you leaned into his side. "You're so sweet, Jack," you whispered, and for a moment, the teasing brothers were forgotten as he looked down at you with pure affection.

"See? That right there," Bobby said, pointing between the two of you. "That's what I'm talking about. He can't even make it through one conversation without getting all lovey-dovey." He turned to Angel. "You think he's the same with us? Hell no. But put (Y/N) in the room and suddenly he's the world's biggest softie."

Jack shot Bobby a look, but there was no real heat in it—just a playful, resigned acceptance of the teasing. He was the youngest of the brothers, but it seemed the older ones were always eager to get a rise out of him.

Jeremiah, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up with a small, knowing smile. "You're lucky, Jack," he said quietly. "She makes you a better man." His words were simple, but there was sincerity in them that made the teasing stop for a moment.

Jack met his brother's gaze, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I think so, too."

You felt your cheeks warm at the kindness in his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. It was easy to see that the Mercer brothers, despite all their banter, had each other's backs. And now, you were part of that.

Bobby gave Jack a good-natured wink. "Just don't get too carried away, Jack. If you keep looking at her like that, you'll make the rest of us look bad."

Jack chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you. "I'll take that chance."

As the evening wore on, the teasing continued, but it was all in good fun. You realized the brothers' playful jabs were just their way of showing they cared. Jack's smile never left his face as he looked at you, and by the end of the night, it was clear that no amount of teasing could shake his love for you. You felt safe, loved, and, most of all, accepted by the Mercer family.

Jack squeezed your shoulder, his voice low but filled with warmth. "Told you they'd love you."

You smiled back at him, feeling more and more at home. "I love them too," you said softly, already looking forward to many more nights with your new family.

[bookloover35]

Meeting the Mercers/ Jack Mercer.

You sat nervously in the passenger seat of Jack's truck, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you tried to calm your racing heart. Today was the day—your first time meeting Jack's brothers. You'd heard so much about them, but Jack had always kept you protected from the intensity of their personalities. He'd spoken fondly of them, of course, but you couldn't help but feel a little insecure. What if they didn't like you? What if they thought you weren't good enough for their brother?

Jack glanced over at you, his eyes soft with understanding. "Hey," he said, his deep voice pulling you from your anxious thoughts. "You okay?"

You nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous."

He grinned, his crooked smile easing some of the tension. "Don't be. They're gonna love you. Trust me, they'll see you for the amazing person you are."

You swallowed, still uncertain, but Jack's confidence was comforting. He reached over and gently squeezed your hand, the simple touch grounding you.

As the two of you pulled into the driveway of the Mercer family home, you felt your stomach twist with a mix of excitement and nerves. The house was big, like something out of a movie, but it felt warm and welcoming. Jack turned off the engine and immediately got out of the truck. You followed, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Jack was always there to reassure you, but today felt like a big step.

When you reached the door, Jack knocked once before opening it. "Hey, guys, we're here," he called, his voice echoing through the entryway.

A moment later, three men appeared, each of them looking strikingly similar to Jack, but with their own distinct personalities. The first to step forward was the eldest, Bobby, a tall, muscular man with a confident aura. He gave Jack a quick, firm hug before his eyes landed on you. You felt his gaze, sharp yet not unkind.

"Jack's girl?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and approval.

Jack nodded, a proud smile on his face as he stepped aside to let you into the house.

"This is (Y/N)," Jack said, a protective glint in his eyes. "She's amazing. Trust me, you'll see."

The second brother, the quiet one named Jeremiah, leaned against the doorframe. He gave you a subtle, almost unreadable nod. You smiled shyly, but his expression didn't shift much. Still, there was something comforting about his calm presence, like you knew he wouldn't judge you.

Then there was the wild card: Angel. He was grinning widely as he extended a hand, his mischievous eyes twinkling with excitement. "So this is the girl who's been stealing my brother away from us?" he joked, his tone playful. "You got a good taste in men, huh?"

You chuckled nervously, shaking his hand. "I like to think so."

Jack rolled his eyes, a hint of annoyance flickering in his gaze, but he didn't stop his brother from making his jokes. You had a feeling this was a typical Angel move, and honestly, you appreciated it. It made you feel a little more at ease.

"Alright, enough with the introductions," Bobby said, clapping his hands together. "Let's eat. We've got a whole spread waiting for you."

You followed them to the dining room, where a large spread of food was laid out. It was obvious that the Mercer brothers were family through and through. The atmosphere was warm, despite the teasing and joking that echoed through the house. You felt yourself relax with every passing moment.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing at Angel's antics, enjoying the quiet wisdom of Jeremiah, and feeling like you were actually part of the Mercer family. They made you feel welcome, and more importantly, they made you feel like you belonged.

At the end of the night, as Jack wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Despite your worries, things had gone perfectly. You had met his brothers, and they hadn't treated you any differently than Jack did. They saw you for who you were—not your size, not your appearance—but you, as a person.

Jack leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Told you they'd love you."

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the food or the laughter around you. "I think I love them too."

Jack chuckled, pulling you into his side. "Good. Because they're stuck with you now."

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked at his brothers, who were all laughing and enjoying themselves. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

[bookloover35]

Shadows of the heart// Obi Wan.

The war-torn galaxy had taken everything from you: your family, your friends, your peace. But it was the final mission with the Jedi Order that broke you. When the Sith Lord struck, leaving you for dead, you felt nothing but a deep, hollow rage. The Dark Side whispered to you in that moment, promising power, revenge, and a way to end your suffering. With nowhere else to turn, you gave in to the darkness, becoming what you once fought against.

Months had passed since that fateful day, and you were no longer the same woman you once were. The Sith robes fit you well, the crimson blade hummed with a power you now understood. You had become a formidable force in the galaxy, leaving a trail of fear in your wake. Yet, in the back of your mind, there remained one face you could not forget: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan had been your mentor, your confidant, and—though neither of you had ever spoken it aloud—your love. But that life was gone, and the Jedi had likely written you off as lost. Or so you thought.

The Outer Rim, a Remote Abandoned Temple

The icy wind howled through the broken arches of the ancient temple as you stood, your cloak billowing around you like the shadows that now defined your existence. The cold no longer bothered you; only the power you sought to claim mattered.

Suddenly, you sensed a familiar presence. A warmth that pierced through the cold darkness enveloping your heart. You turned sharply, your eyes narrowing as a figure in Jedi robes emerged from the shadows.

"Obi-Wan," you hissed, igniting your red lightsaber. The crimson blade bathed the ruined temple in a sinister glow.

He stepped forward, his blue eyes filled with a mix of pain and determination. His own lightsaber remained clipped to his belt, untouched.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, his voice carrying through the wind like a soothing balm. "I'm not here to fight."

Your grip tightened on your weapon. "Then you've come to die."

"No," he replied, shaking his head slowly. "I've come to bring you back."

Your laugh was cold, mocking. "There's nothing left to bring back, Jedi. I am no longer that weak, naive woman you knew. The Dark Side has shown me true power."

"Has it, truly?" Obi-Wan's gaze was unwavering, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "Or has it only made you more of a prisoner?"

You faltered for a moment, but the darkness within you surged forward, reminding you of your rage, your hatred. You lunged at him, your lightsaber arcing toward his head. But he didn't move to defend himself. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the crimson blade stop inches from his face.

"Strike me down if you must, (Y/N). But before you do, I need you to hear me."

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. This wasn't what you expected. Why wasn't he fighting back?

"Speak, then," you spat, trying to mask your unease. "But your words won't save you."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never told you how I truly felt. I was a fool to let you walk away without saying it. But I will not make that mistake again."

Your fingers trembled around your lightsaber hilt, but you kept your weapon raised.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you. I was afraid—afraid of what it would mean for you, for me, for the Jedi Order. But none of that matters now. If you kill me, let it be with the knowledge that I never stopped loving you, even after you chose the darkness."

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. His words cut through the layers of darkness that surrounded your heart, piercing the armor you had built around your soul. Memories flooded back: your shared laughter, the late-night conversations, the quiet moments where your hands would accidentally brush, sending sparks through you.

But the Dark Side was relentless. It screamed at you, urging you to strike, to finish him, to silence the voice that threatened to shatter your resolve. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your hands shook.

"I am Sith now," you whispered, but your voice lacked conviction.

Obi-Wan reached out, gently placing his hand over yours on the lightsaber hilt. "No, (Y/N). You are so much more than that. The darkness does not define you. It never has."

The rage and hatred that had fueled you for so long began to crumble. You dropped to your knees, your lightsaber deactivating with a hiss. The crimson glow faded, leaving you both bathed in the soft light of the setting sun filtering through the broken windows.

Obi-Wan knelt beside you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form. You sobbed into his chest, the weight of everything you had done crashing down on you like a tidal wave. But he held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"It's alright," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're not lost. You're here, with me."

As you let go of the darkness, the temple seemed to lighten, as if responding to the shift within you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt the warmth of the Light Side envelop you, like a gentle breeze on a spring morning.

"I'm so sorry," you choked out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "For everything."

Obi-Wan wiped away your tears with a gentle touch. "The past is behind us. What matters is that you're here now."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you remained there, holding each other close. The galaxy was still at war, the darkness still loomed, but for this moment, you had found your way back to the light—and to each other.

And that was enough.

The End

[bookloover35]

Love and protection// Daryl Dixon.

The fire flickered in the twilight, casting a soft glow over the survivors as they went about their evening routines. You sat on the edge of the camp, staring into the flames, your mind replaying Andrea's cruel words from earlier.

"You're just going to be an easy target for the walkers, you know that, right?"

Her words stung, cutting deep, and you couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that lingered in your chest. It didn't matter how hard you fought, how much you tried to prove your worth—there were always those who saw you as something less.

Just as the heaviness in your heart threatened to consume you, you heard the familiar sound of boots crunching the dirt behind you. You didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Daryl Dixon. The man who always seemed to have a way of knowing when something was wrong.

Without a word, he sat beside you, his crossbow hanging loosely on his back. His eyes studied your face, narrowing with concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the emotions that threatened to spill out. "I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind."

Daryl wasn't convinced. He leaned in closer, his body language protective, almost as if he could sense the weight of what you were carrying.

"You sure?" he asked again, this time with more intensity.

You sighed, not wanting to get into it, but knowing he wouldn't let it go. "Andrea said some things... things that made me feel like I'm not... enough."

Daryl's expression darkened immediately. "What kind of things?"

You bit your lip, feeling your throat tighten. "She said I'd be an easy target for the walkers. That I'm just too slow, too big to survive."

There was a long pause. Then, Daryl's voice broke through the silence, low and steady. "She's wrong. You're stronger than anyone gives you credit for. And I'll be damned if I let anyone make you feel like less than you are."

Before you could respond, Daryl did something unexpected. He reached out, his hands gently guiding you toward him.

"Come here," he said softly, his voice commanding but gentle.

You blinked in surprise as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt protective yet tender. You froze, suddenly aware of how close you were to him. Your heart raced in your chest, and for a brief moment, you were afraid you might crush him with the weight of your body.

"Don't worry about it," Daryl murmured, sensing your hesitation. "You won't hurt me."

You shifted nervously in his lap, still unsure, your face flushed with embarrassment. "But... I'm bigger than you. I don't want to—"

Daryl cut you off, lifting your chin gently so your eyes met his. "Stop right there, Y/N. You're not going to hurt me . I love every part of you. Every inch of you."

His hands gently traced the curve of your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. "You've got a body that's strong. You've got curves that make you real, make you you. And I love that. I love it all."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, but the insecurity still gnawed at you. "But what if... what if I crush you?"

Daryl's lips twitched into a small, affectionate smile. "If I can take on a herd of walkers, I can take whatever you've got. Don't worry about it."

His hands continued to caress your sides, the gentle pressure soothing the tension in your body. "I've got you. All of you. And I want you to know that, no matter what anyone else says, you are perfect to me. You're beautiful, strong, and I wouldn't change a damn thing."

You leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you, his words wrapping around you like a protective shield. The fear of being too much melted away in the safety of his arms.

"I love you, Y/N," Daryl whispered, his voice low and sincere. "I've loved you for a long time. And I'll spend every damn day showing you just how much."

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time in a long while, you felt truly at peace. With Daryl, you didn't have to be anything other than yourself.

And with that thought, you let yourself relax into his embrace, knowing that in his arms, you were more than enough.

[bookloover35]

The melody you keep/ Spencer Reid.

It was a typical morning at the BAU, the buzz of the office mixing with the hum of coffee machines and the soft clicking of keyboards. You were seated at your desk, papers scattered in front of you as you sifted through case notes. You had been part of the team for about six months now, and while your colleagues had warmed to you, there was one person who you couldn't quite crack: Spencer Reid.

Spencer was brilliant, no question about it. His intellect often left you in awe. But while the rest of the team was easy to get along with, Spencer was different. He was quiet, observant, a little awkward at times, but there was a certain charm to him, even if you couldn't quite understand it. Maybe it was his slightly disheveled appearance, the way his curls always fell into his eyes, or the fact that he could rattle off facts about obscure topics without breaking a sweat. Whatever it was, you found yourself drawn to him.

You were jolted from your thoughts by the sound of Spencer approaching your desk. He was holding a file, his usual focused expression on his face.

"Hey, Y/N, could you take a look at these case details? I think there might be something we're missing," he said, his voice soft but clear.

You nodded, offering him a smile as you took the file from his hand. "Sure, I'll get to it right away."

He hesitated for a moment, then, as if it was something he had been meaning to say for a while, added, "I noticed you're always listening to music while you work... what are you listening to?"

Your eyes flicked to the headphones you had draped around your neck. It was no secret that music was something that helped you concentrate, but you hadn't really expected Spencer to notice. You had never shared your taste in music with anyone at work, not because you were embarrassed, but because it felt like something personal, something separate from your professional life.

"Oh, um, just some stuff here and there. Nothing special," you said, your voice slightly defensive, though you didn't mean to sound that way.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Music can be a great way to engage the brain and improve cognitive function. Sometimes, when I'm stressed, I'll listen to classical pieces."

You smiled at him, appreciating the fact that Spencer would go to such lengths to explain his habits. "I'm more of a... singer-songwriter kind of person," you admitted, glancing up at him.

He seemed to process this, but before he could respond, a voice from across the room called out to you.

"Y/N! You got a minute?" it was JJ, holding up a file with a grin.

You gave Spencer a quick, apologetic smile. "I'll get back to you in a bit, Reid," you said, then turned to walk toward JJ's desk.

The conversation slipped from your mind as the morning went on. The workday passed quickly, and before you knew it, it was time to wrap things up. You were humming softly as you packed up, tapping your pen in rhythm with the song stuck in your head.

You hadn't noticed Spencer had been watching you from across the room. His curiosity was piqued—he had noticed your hums earlier in the day, but now, as you gathered your things, he saw something that made his heart race.

You were singing. Quietly at first, but it was unmistakable. Your voice, warm and soothing, filled the air as you absentmindedly sang under your breath. He had never heard you sing before, and in that moment, he was captivated by the sound.

He had never been particularly attuned to music in the way others were, but your voice... it had a quality he couldn't explain. It wasn't just beautiful—it was raw, vulnerable, like you were letting a part of yourself out into the open, something no one else could see. It was something Spencer had always struggled to understand in people, but when it came to you, he felt that same pull. It made him want to know more about you, to understand what made you, you.

You finished your song without realizing that Spencer was standing nearby, his gaze fixed on you. When you finally caught sight of him, you froze, suddenly self-conscious.

"Did you... hear that?" you asked, feeling your cheeks flush.

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I—uh, yeah, I did," he said, his voice quiet. "I didn't know you sang."

You shrugged awkwardly, glancing at the floor. "I don't really sing in front of people... I don't know why I even do it here, honestly. It's just something I do to clear my head, I guess."

Spencer smiled softly, a rare warmth in his expression. "It's... beautiful."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Spencer Reid, the man who could decipher criminal minds and recite Shakespeare by heart, thought your voice was beautiful?

Before you could respond, Spencer seemed to become a little flustered, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that was both endearing and awkward. "I—I didn't mean to make it weird or anything. It's just that, well... I didn't expect it. I mean, I didn't know you had such a talent."

You smiled, the tension easing. "Well, maybe I'll sing for you sometime," you teased lightly, trying to hide the nervous fluttering in your chest. "If you're not too busy solving crimes and reading obscure texts, that is."

Spencer chuckled, a sound that was music to your ears in itself. "I'd like that."

And in that moment, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was more to Spencer Reid than you'd ever imagined. Perhaps he was more than just the quiet genius of the BAU. And you, perhaps, weren't just the girl who hums to herself while working.

Maybe there was something more between the two of you, something unspoken, waiting to be discovered.

[bookloover35]

The witch of the wilds// Aragorn.

The cold wind whispered through the trees, their branches groaning in the quiet of the night. You stood on the edge of the clearing, your eyes closed in concentration, your hands weaving intricate signs in the air. The power that surged through your veins was ancient and wild, but it was controlled, tamed by years of practice. A deep hum vibrated beneath the ground as the earth itself responded to your magic, the soil rich with centuries of forgotten spells.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears. The crunch of leaves and the soft clink of metal on metal. You didn't have to open your eyes to know who it was. You had been expecting him.

"Lady of the Wilds," Aragorn's voice was like a distant thunderstorm, low and steady. He stood behind you, the weight of his cloak shifting as he took a step closer. "I thought I would find you here."

You turned slowly, your dark eyes locking onto his. Aragorn's gaze was unwavering, his rugged features bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. He had been following you for days now, ever since your paths had crossed in the forests of Rohan. At first, it had been casual—the quiet exchanges of two travelers in the same land—but now, with each meeting, there was something more.

"You know this place as well as I do, Aragorn," you said, your voice soft but firm. "The magic here is old, much older than the kingdoms of men."

He nodded, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his side. You had seen the way his eyes shifted when you spoke of your powers—curiosity mixed with wariness. Few men knew what it meant to face a witch.

"You do not fear me?" you asked, stepping closer, your gaze never leaving his.

He studied you for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "No," he replied, his voice steady. "I have seen many things in my life. I do not fear what I do not understand, especially not when it is in the service of good."

A warm smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Good?" you echoed, amused. "You think me good?"

The words hung between you like the evening mist. You were no stranger to suspicion—witches were often seen as dangerous, unpredictable forces, the kind of power that kingdoms and men alike feared. But Aragorn... he looked at you with something different in his eyes. Not fear. Not doubt. Only understanding, perhaps.

"I think," he said after a pause, his voice soft but earnest, "that you fight for the right cause, as do I."

Your heart quickened, though you tried not to show it. Aragorn was not just any man. He was a ranger, a warrior of the North, and the heir to a throne he had yet to claim. His bloodline was as ancient as the magic you wielded, though he had yet to embrace it fully. Still, the connection was there, and it was undeniable.

You took a step closer, feeling the heat of his presence, the subtle pull of his energy. His eyes softened when you reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, a gesture so intimate that you nearly stopped yourself.

"You have the heart of a king, Aragorn," you whispered. "And yet, you walk the path of a ranger. Why do you not embrace your true power?"

He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "I fear the weight of the crown. The burden it carries. I do not know if I am ready for what it demands."

You smiled softly, your hand resting over his, your fingers grazing his skin. "I know the weight of power, Aragorn. I have felt it within me since I was a child, and it is not something you ever truly forget. But you must choose—whether to carry the burden or let it crush you."

He gazed at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as though trying to see into your soul. "And what would you choose?" he asked.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I choose to fight."

When you pulled back, Aragorn's breath had quickened, his heart racing in the quiet stillness of the forest. His gaze never left yours, and in that moment, the space between you felt smaller than it ever had before. The tension crackled, like the energy before a storm.

And then, without another word, Aragorn stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours, soft but full of the promise of something more—something deeper than either of you had dared to imagine.

You kissed him back, your magic humming between you, the connection undeniable. He was a man of strength, of honor, and yet in that moment, you both gave in to something older than any kingdom, older than any crown—the power of a shared destiny.

[bookloover35]

The night to remember// Steve Harrington x fem reader.

You let out a shaky breath as you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room. Your bedroom, usually a safe haven, felt oddly suffocating tonight. The dress you'd picked for prom — a gorgeous, dark emerald green gown that hugged your curves in all the right places — had once seemed like the perfect choice. But now, under the harsh light, every little insecurity whispered cruelly in your ear.

Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe I can just tell Steve that I got sick or something, you thought, biting your lip as you adjusted the neckline. The fluttering in your stomach intensified when you heard your mom's voice calling from downstairs.

"Sweetheart, Steve's here!"

Your heart did a nervous flip. Steve Harrington — the former king of Hawkins High, the guy who could have anyone he wanted — had somehow chosen you to be his prom date. You weren't quite sure how it happened. It had started innocently enough with shared shifts at Family Video, late-night conversations, and inside jokes. Before you knew it, his eyes started lingering a little longer, and his touch became more affectionate.

But even now, as you prepared for one of the most important nights of high school, you couldn't help but wonder: Why me?

"Y/N, are you ready?" your mom called again, a hint of urgency in her voice.

You took one last look at yourself, running your hands nervously over the fabric of your dress. Screw it, you decided. Steve asked me to prom. He chose me.

Gathering every ounce of confidence you could muster, you picked up your small clutch and made your way downstairs. As you turned the corner and stepped into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Steve was standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe in a classic black tux. His hair was artfully tousled, just the way he liked it. But it was his eyes — wide and awestruck as they roved over you — that made your breath hitch.

"Wow..." Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. He straightened up, a slow grin spreading across his lips. "Y/N, you look... absolutely stunning."

You could feel your cheeks heat up. "Thanks," you mumbled, trying to look anywhere but directly at him. "You don't look too bad yourself."

Steve chuckled, stepping closer. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had to look at him. "Hey," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I mean it. You look like a dream."

Your heart fluttered at his words, but the old insecurities still nagged at you. "I don't know about all that," you said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I mean... look at me. I'm not exactly prom queen material."

Steve's brow furrowed, and his smile faded just slightly. "What are you talking about? You're gorgeous, Y/N. You're... you're everything."

There was such sincerity in his voice that it almost made you tear up. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear those words until now. You gave him a tentative smile, and he beamed back at you like you were the only girl in the world.

Without another word, he reached behind him to produce a small, delicate corsage. The flowers matched the shade of your dress perfectly, and you couldn't help but smile wider as he carefully slipped it onto your wrist.

"Shall we?" Steve asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, feeling a new surge of confidence. "We shall."

The Hawkins High gym had been transformed for prom night, with shimmering lights and a sea of balloons creating a whimsical atmosphere. As soon as you walked in, heads turned. You tried not to let the stares get to you, focusing instead on the warm, steady presence beside you. Steve squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"Everyone's staring," you whispered, feeling self-conscious all over again.

"Yeah," Steve replied, looking at you with that same, smitten grin. "Because you're the most beautiful girl in the room."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love, maybe," he teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your temple.

The music started to slow down, and Steve looked at you with a glint in his eye. "May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing dramatically.

"Of course, dork," you said, laughing as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

The moment his arms wrapped around you, all your worries melted away. It didn't matter that you weren't the size of the other girls, or that your dress didn't fit some unwritten rule. All that mattered was the way Steve looked at you — like you were the only thing that existed in his world.

As you swayed together, the world around you faded into a blur. Your head rested on his shoulder, the soft fabric of his tuxedo jacket against your cheek. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Thank you," you whispered, not quite sure if he heard you over the music.

Steve pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "For what?"

"For making me feel... beautiful," you said quietly.

His expression softened, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. "Y/N, you are beautiful. You've always been. I just wish you could see yourself the way I do."

The words were so genuine that your throat tightened with emotion. Before you could say anything, Steve leaned in and captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss that made your knees weak.

The applause and cheers of your classmates brought you both back to reality. You hadn't even noticed that everyone had stopped dancing to watch you two. But for once, you didn't mind being the center of attention. Because in Steve's arms, you felt like you were on top of the world.

As the night went on, you danced, laughed, and shared secret smiles. The whispers and stares from others seemed to disappear entirely, drowned out by the sound of Steve's laughter and the feel of his hand in yours.

By the end of the night, as you two stood outside, bathed in the moonlight, Steve pulled you in close. "This was the best prom ever," he murmured against your hair.

You smiled, snuggling into his embrace. "Yeah... it really was."

And for the first time, you truly believed it.

The end.

[bookloover35]

A Day At The Beach- Steve Harrington x fem reader.

The sun was warm on your skin, and the waves crashed gently against the shore, creating a perfect soundtrack for your beach day. You pulled the straps of your sundress over your shoulders, squinting against the bright sunlight as you made your way across the sand. The salty air brushed against your face, and you smiled, feeling more at ease than you had in weeks.

It was a perfect summer day. The kind of day that made everything feel right in the world. And to top it off, you were spending it with Steve Harrington.

You found him already lounging under a large umbrella, a cooler beside him. His shades were perched on his nose, and his hair—now a bit longer—was tousled in that effortlessly cool way. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, his smile lighting up his face.

"Hey, look who decided to join me!" he called, sitting up and adjusting his sunglasses. "Did you bring the sunscreen? I've got my fair share of burn marks already."

You laughed, setting down your bag and spreading out your towel on the sand. "I didn't forget," you said, pulling out the sunscreen and tossing it his way. "You're the one who always forgets to reapply. You'll end up looking like a lobster if you're not careful."

"Hey, I've got that 'tanned god' look going for me," Steve said with a wink. "You should be jealous."

You rolled your eyes but grinned, taking a seat next to him on the blanket. The gentle sea breeze tousled your hair as you reached for the sunscreen, and you started to apply it to his back, smiling to yourself. You'd always thought Steve was a bit of a dork, but there was something about him that made your heart flutter. Maybe it was the way he could be so carefree or how he always seemed to be in the moment, making you feel like you were the only person that mattered.

When you were done, Steve turned around, a playful glint in his eyes. "Now it's your turn," he said, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "I'm not letting you outshine me."

You narrowed your eyes, but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're ridiculous."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "Come on, don't make me beg."

With a dramatic sigh, you grabbed the sunscreen again and began applying it to his chest, trying not to laugh as he pretended to be a model, striking exaggerated poses. "If you keep doing that, you'll end up looking like a photo from the '80s," you teased.

"Hey, what's wrong with a little nostalgia?" he shot back. "I'm a fan of the classics."

Once you were both properly sunscreened, you stood up and shook out your towel. "So, what's the plan for today? Are we just going to sit here and roast, or are you going to show me the 'cool' beach activities you're so fond of?"

Steve's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Roast? Nah, we're gonna have some fun. Ever tried beach volleyball?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Beach volleyball? Are you sure you're not just trying to impress me?"

"No way," he said, pushing himself up to stand. "You'll see. I'm basically a volleyball pro."

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Show me what you got, Steve Harrington."

You two gathered some other beachgoers who were up for a game and, before long, you were all running around, laughing and trying to outplay each other in the sand. Steve's competitive side came out in full force, but he still couldn't help but throw you a wink every time you managed to make a point. The game was fast, and the laughter was constant.

After the match, you both collapsed onto the sand, panting and covered in sand. "Okay, I'll admit it. You're not terrible at this," you said, leaning back on your elbows.

"I told you," Steve said, grinning. He reached over, brushing some sand off your arm. "But I think I deserve a reward for all my hard work."

You gave him a teasing smile. "What kind of reward are we talking about here?"

He turned onto his side to face you, a soft expression crossing his features. "Maybe a walk along the water? I mean, it's the least you could do after all that volleyball domination."

Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his voice. You nodded, standing up and brushing the sand off your legs. "Alright, Harrington. Let's go for that walk."

The two of you wandered along the shoreline, the water cool as it lapped against your ankles. Every so often, Steve would nudge you with his shoulder or tell you an embarrassing story from high school, and you'd both burst into laughter. The world felt simpler when you were with him—less complicated, like this day was exactly what you both needed.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the colors of the horizon turning pink and orange, Steve turned to you again, his voice quieter this time.

"I'm really glad you're here with me today," he said. "I know it sounds cheesy, but... you make everything better."

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter once more. "I'm glad too, Steve."

The two of you stood there for a moment, the sound of the waves crashing around you, before he turned to you with a mischievous grin.

"So... are we getting ice cream after this, or what?"

You laughed. "Of course we are, you dork."

As you both made your way off the beach, you knew that this day, and this moment, would stay with you for a long time. The simple joy of being together, of sharing laughter and warmth, was all you needed to make the perfect memory.

[bookloover35]

Je T'aime, Steve- Steve Harrington x fem reader.

Steve Harrington was never one to shy away from trying new things. After all, he had spent most of his high school years trying on different personas. But there was something about the idea of learning French that excited him more than he cared to admit. Maybe it was because it was a language of romance, something he could use to impress someone he cared about. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were the one offering to teach him.

You had known Steve for a while now. He wasn't the same arrogant jock he had once been. Over the past few months, he had shown a side of himself that was surprisingly earnest and kind. You'd become fast friends, sharing late-night conversations, junk food, and countless moments where he'd make you laugh just when you needed it most.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch in your living room, Steve turned to you with an earnest look in his eyes.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, scratching the back of his neck in that way he did when he was nervous. "I was thinking... maybe you could teach me French?"

You raised an eyebrow. "French? As in, the language?"

Steve nodded, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Yeah, I mean, why not? You know I've always wanted to learn. And you're, like, fluent or whatever."

You laughed. "I wouldn't say fluent, but I do know a few things. I can definitely teach you."

"Great!" Steve grinned. "I'll be the next Jean-Claude Van Damme in no time."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "We'll start slow. How about we begin with the basics?"

Over the next few weeks, you met up with Steve after school. You'd go over vocabulary, pronunciation, and grammar rules, but Steve's favorite lesson by far was when you taught him a phrase that had him grinning like a fool.

One late afternoon, you sat together on the porch, the sun casting a warm glow over the town. You had been practicing basic phrases for hours, but you noticed Steve getting a little distracted, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Okay, let's try this one," you said, writing it down in your notebook. "Je t'aime. It means 'I love you.'"

Steve stared at the phrase on the page, then looked up at you, his brown eyes softening. "So, it's like, 'I love you'... but in French?"

"Exactly," you smiled, leaning over to point at the words. "Say it with me: Je t'aime."

Steve's lips curled into a smile as he repeated after you, trying to perfect the pronunciation. "Je t'aime."

You chuckled, nodding. "That's pretty good. But I think you're missing a little something."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Steve asked, leaning closer, his eyes locking with yours.

You grinned and said, "You have to say it like you mean it."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Like... like I'm confessing my undying love or something?"

You nodded. "Exactly. You're not just saying the words; you're feeling them."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air felt thick with anticipation, and you could feel the space between you two shrinking. Then, without warning, Steve turned to face you, his expression serious, and he softly spoke the words you'd just taught him:

"Je t'aime."

Your heart skipped a beat. He hadn't just said it; he had said it like he meant it. And the way he looked at you, with that vulnerability in his eyes, made your breath catch in your throat.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. "Steve..." you whispered, your voice catching.

He smiled, his usual playful smirk replaced with something much softer. "What? Too much? Too soon?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "It's just... I didn't think you'd actually say it like that."

He leaned a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, when you teach me something as beautiful as that... I think it deserves to be said with feeling."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. Maybe Steve Harrington had always been this kind-hearted, you thought. Maybe you had just been too focused on his former image to see it before.

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Je t'aime too," you whispered back.

Steve's grin returned, this time with a little more confidence, as if he had just won a small victory. "Guess I really am a natural at this whole French thing, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You might be getting the hang of it."

And there, under the fading light of the sunset, you realized that learning French with Steve Harrington wasn't just about language—it was about understanding the subtle emotions that had always been there, waiting to be shared.

As he leaned back in his chair, still smiling that goofy, endearing grin, you knew one thing for sure: you were going to cherish these lessons for a lot longer than you'd ever imagined.

End

[bookloover35]

The Voice That Wasn't Meant to Stay Quiet- Steve Harrington x fem reader.

It was another typical day in Hawkins, Indiana—quiet, almost too quiet. The hallways of Hawkins High echoed with the chatter of students as they prepared for another week of classes. But there was one thing that wasn't like the others. You had a secret. A talent you'd been hiding for years. You had a voice—one that could make angels weep—but you were too shy to let anyone hear it.

It was during lunch when Steve Harrington first heard you sing.

He was sitting at the corner booth with Dustin and Lucas, attempting to ignore the chaos around him when he heard a soft hum coming from the hallway. The sound was clear, almost haunting in its beauty. He looked up, his curiosity piqued, only to see you walking by with a tray of food, your lips moving in sync with the tune you didn't even realize was escaping you.

"Wait... what was that?" Steve whispered, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

Dustin furrowed his brow. "What?"

"That sound... you didn't hear it?"

"Oh, you mean the weird hum? Maybe it's a ghost or something."

Steve shot him a look before standing up and quickly walking toward you. He caught up just as you were about to turn the corner, your voice fading away. "Hey!" he called out, causing you to stop in your tracks. You froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of the popular guy approaching you.

"Oh, hey, Steve," you stammered, trying to act casual even though you were feeling anything but that.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky grin replaced with a more thoughtful expression. "What was that you were singing?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You blinked, your cheeks flushing instantly. "I—uh, I wasn't singing," you lied, feeling embarrassed that he had overheard.

"Come on, I heard it. You have a great voice. Why hide it?" Steve's tone was genuine, and for the first time, you felt like maybe he wasn't just messing with you.

"I just... don't like drawing attention to myself," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Steve tilted his head, thinking for a moment before a brilliant idea hit him. "The talent show's coming up, right? You should sing there. Everyone would love to hear you!"

You shook your head quickly, your stomach tightening at the thought. "No way. I can't... that's too much attention."

"But you can sing. I heard it! You shouldn't let something so amazing go to waste. Everyone deserves to hear it."

You bit your lip, feeling torn. You had always dreamed of singing, but the thought of standing in front of a crowd terrified you. But Steve... he wasn't pushing you. He was encouraging you. You never expected this from him.

"I... I don't know," you admitted, glancing up at him. "It's just... so scary. What if people laugh?"

Steve shrugged, his confidence shining through. "What if they don't? What if they love it? I can't imagine anyone laughing at you when you sing like that."

His words left you speechless for a moment. His faith in you was so strong, and the way he was looking at you made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could do this.

"Okay... I'll think about it," you said, unsure but feeling a small spark of hope flicker inside you.

Steve grinned, his usual cocky self returning. "That's all I'm asking for. But seriously, you've got this. And hey, if you need a backup dancer or someone to cheer you on, I'm your guy."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. "Thanks, Steve. I'll keep that in mind."

The days leading up to the talent show were a blur of rehearsals and second-guessing. Every time you stood in front of the mirror, you could feel the nerves creeping in. But Steve was there, always supportive, always telling you how amazing you were. He even stayed up late with you the night before the talent show, running through your song over and over.

The big night arrived, and you could feel the energy in the air. The gym was packed with students, the stage lights blinding as you stood backstage, your heart pounding in your chest. You had your moment.

And it was time.

"Next up, [Y/N]," the announcer's voice echoed over the microphone, and you stepped onto the stage, the spotlight falling on you. The crowd fell silent, waiting, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You took a deep breath, remembering Steve's words: You've got this.

You started singing, your voice soft at first, but soon it filled the room with such power and emotion that the entire audience was captivated. Every note was perfect, every breath in sync with the song. It was as if you were no longer standing in front of them—you were floating, lost in the music.

When you finished, there was a moment of silence. And then, the entire gym erupted into applause. The cheers and whistles were deafening, and for the first time, you felt like you truly belonged.

As you stepped off the stage, Steve was there, his grin wide and proud. "See? I told you you had it in you," he said, pulling you into a quick hug. "You were amazing."

You laughed, still a little overwhelmed by the applause. "I don't know what just happened, but... thank you, Steve. I couldn't have done it without you."

Steve winked. "Of course you could have. But I'm glad I got to be part of it."

From that night on, you no longer kept your talent hidden. You sang whenever you felt like it, and with Steve by your side, you knew there was nothing you couldn't do.

And as for Steve, well, he was always there to cheer you on—your number one fan, in every way possible.