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elikajinnie · 3 months ago

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Clash Of Love - S.J

P: Gryffindor!Jake x fem!reader

Trope: Sports Romance

Warnings: teasing, angst, confidence issues, hurt/comfort, Fluff.

Synopsis: You never cared for Quidditch until you became your house’s top Seeker and caught the attention of Jake, the new Gryffindor Seeker.

masterlist

☆

You never really cared much for Quidditch. Sure, you’d played it growing up—your father made sure of that. As a former Beater during his own Hogwarts days, he always had high hopes that you'd follow in his footsteps, maybe even outshine him on the pitch. But while you could fly circles around other kids and hit a Bludger with unnerving precision, the game just never sparked that fire in you. It was fun, yes, but it wasn’t your dream.

When you finally got your letter to Hogwarts, all you wanted was a normal experience. You imagined spending your time exploring the castle, making friends, and learning magic—without the pressure of Quidditch hanging over your head. No dodging Bludgers, no chasing Quaffles, no frantic races after the Golden Snitch. Just a regular student life, something your father didn’t quite understand.

But as soon as your teachers saw you on a broom, any hope of staying out of Quidditch vanished. Your speed, your natural talent—it didn’t go unnoticed. They didn’t just ask you to join the team; they practically insisted. And not as a Beater like your dad, but as a Seeker.

When you came home that winter break and told your father the news, you could practically see the stars in his eyes. He beamed with pride, his excitement so infectious. The Firebolt he gave you the next day was the final touch, a gesture that said everything you couldn't: that you were in this now, whether you wanted to be or not.

And there were so many moments when you wanted to quit. The pressure, the expectation, the weight of it all—it nearly crushed you. But every time you thought about walking away, something held you back. Maybe it was the look of pride in your dad’s eyes. Maybe it was the teammates who’d started counting on you. Maybe it was something in you that couldn’t bear to let it all go.

Whatever it was, you stayed.

As the weeks passed, you started winning match after match, your broom slicing through the air with precision and speed that shocked even the most seasoned players. It didn’t take long before people began to notice—really notice. With every match, your name was whispered a little louder in the corridors, echoing through common rooms and the Great Hall. None of the teams stood a chance when you were on the pitch.

Your team celebrated, of course. Your captain clapped you on the back, your teammates threw their arms around your shoulders, chanting your name after every victory. And yet, there was something strange about it all, something you couldn't quite shake. It wasn’t just your house that knew who you were anymore. People you’d never spoken to started calling your name in the hallways. You’d catch bits of conversations as you passed: “That’s her! The Seeker from the last match, remember?” or “I heard she caught the Snitch in under ten minutes.”

At first, it seemed harmless—just excited students sharing in the school’s newfound pride in your victories. But soon, it became more than that. People you didn’t know were stopping you on your way to class, congratulating you, or worse—asking for tips, advice, even autographs. You’d never been the kind of person to seek out attention, and now it was coming from every direction, like a tidal wave you hadn’t expected.

You tried to keep your head down, but it felt impossible. Everywhere you went, you heard your name. In the library, you caught people staring at you from behind piles of books. In the common room, whispers followed you when you walked past. Even in Potions class, you felt eyes burning into the back of your head.

It was… unsettling, to say the least. The fame, the attention—it was all so far from what you'd wanted when you first came to Hogwarts. You wanted to blend in, to have a normal experience, to learn magic like everyone else. Now, you were anything but invisible.

The more matches you won, the louder the buzz around you grew. It became nearly impossible to go anywhere without someone mentioning your name, like you’d somehow become a part of the school’s everyday conversation. Every win cemented your place as the top Seeker of the year. Rival houses hated how unstoppable you were on the pitch; even their Seekers seemed resigned to defeat before the matches even started.

Your victories were all anyone could talk about. "Have you seen her fly? It’s like she's born on a broom," they’d say. Or, "No one’s caught the Snitch that fast in years."

It was overwhelming, and though you tried to ignore it, the fame clung to you like a second skin. You started timing your walks to class to avoid the busiest corridors, taking the long way around the castle just to get some peace. But even that didn’t help much. People still recognized you. Some would smile or nod in respect, while others were bolder, stopping you mid-stride with wide eyes and questions about your technique, as if you were some sort of Quidditch oracle.

One afternoon, you were rushing to Herbology when a group of second-years ran up, their robes flapping as they tried to keep pace with you.

"You're the Seeker, right?" one of them asked breathlessly, like they'd been working up the courage to approach you all day.

You nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile, hoping they'd move on. They didn’t.

“Can you show us how you do that dive? The one you used in the last match?” another chimed in, eyes wide with awe.

You managed to mutter something about practice and waved them off as politely as you could, but as they scampered away, you felt an unease settle in your chest. You weren’t used to this kind of attention. Being recognized in passing was one thing, but now people were acting like you were some kind of Quidditch legend—and you weren’t even halfway through the season.

The weight of their expectations began to creep in. Every match you played, every Snitch you caught, you felt it growing, pressing down on you. People expected you to be perfect. To win. Every. Single. Time.

And the truth was, you were good—really good. But what if that changed? What if, in one match, you didn’t catch the Snitch? What if you made a mistake?

The fear of letting people down was starting to feel heavier than the broom you flew. And no one seemed to notice the way your shoulders sagged under it all, not even your friends. To them, you were thriving—so why would they think otherwise?

Even your father couldn’t stop talking about you. When you wrote home, all he wanted to know was how many matches you’d won and what the other teams were like. He’d send letters full of praise, bursting with pride at your accomplishments, never realizing that every word only tightened the knot in your chest.

One evening after practice, you sat by the Black Lake, the still water reflecting the darkening sky. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe. Away from the crowds, away from the questions and the eyes following your every move, you were just you again. No Quidditch star. No Seeker. Just… you.

But even then, a thought gnawed at the back of your mind. How long could you keep this up? How much longer could you carry the weight of everyone else’s dreams on your shoulders when it was never really your dream to begin with?

The pressure built, but instead of backing down, you threw yourself into Quidditch even harder. It wasn’t enough just to be good anymore—you had to be better. Better than the other Seekers. Better than the expectations people had placed on you. Better than the doubt that gnawed at you every time you felt the weight of a hundred eyes on you, waiting for you to catch the Snitch like it was your destiny.

Practice became your escape. Out on the pitch, you weren’t the person everyone whispered about in the hallways; you were just a player, one among a team of friends who didn’t treat you like some Quidditch prodigy. They were focused on their own roles, their own goals. No one stared at you or asked for advice. No one analyzed your every move. They just let you be. It was freeing in a way that nothing else was.

And so, you pushed yourself. Harder. Faster. Each practice, you flew like your life depended on it, the wind howling in your ears as you whipped through the air. The faster you went, the more the tears would prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, telling yourself it was only the wind, nothing more. You needed to be faster. You needed to be stronger.

You would be the best.

It wasn’t enough to just catch the Snitch anymore. Now, you had to catch it quicker, cleaner. Every dive had to be sharper, every turn more precise. With each lap around the pitch, you forced yourself to go faster, to fly closer to the ground, to flirt with danger in a way that left your heart pounding against your ribs.

There was no time to second-guess, no room for mistakes. You chased perfection with a single-minded focus, and when your muscles screamed from the effort, when your lungs burned, you pushed through it. You had to. Anything less felt like failure.

Sometimes, after practice, you’d find yourself sitting on your broom long after the others had left, staring out over the empty pitch as the sun dipped below the horizon. Your teammates, who were also your friends, didn’t question it. They didn’t ask if you were okay or wonder why you stayed behind. They gave you space, and for that, you were grateful. They didn’t treat you like the school’s golden Seeker, didn’t put you on a pedestal. To them, you were just you, and that small freedom meant more than they could know.

In those moments, you could breathe. There were no expectations, no pressure. Just you and the broom, hovering above the ground in the fading light. You would close your eyes, feel the wind cool against your skin, and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared.

But the moment always ended. And when it did, the weight of it all came crashing back. You’d grip the handle of your Firebolt a little tighter, the reminder sinking in: you weren’t just doing this for yourself anymore. You couldn’t afford to slip, to falter.

You had to be perfect. Because in a world where everyone already saw you that way, anything less wasn’t good enough.

☆

The news came on a cold Friday afternoon, whispered through the corridors of Hogwarts like wildfire. Gryffindor had found a new Seeker. You had heard it first from some Ravenclaws in your Charms class, who were chatting excitedly as you passed by. At first, you hadn’t paid it much attention—every house was always talking up their players, hoping their team would be the one to dethrone the reigning champion. But then, as you overheard more and more conversations, your curiosity piqued.

It wasn’t just any new Seeker. This one had apparently caught the Snitch in a time scarily close to your own record—one you had held for years.

At first, you felt a flicker of intrigue. Could it be true? Someone as fast as you? It was hard to believe, but there was a small part of you that wanted to see for yourself. Someone who could give you a real challenge, a test worthy of your skills. You didn’t mind the thought—competition was normal, after all. Maybe even welcome.

But then the unease crept in. The more you heard, the more you realized this wasn’t just hype. People were really talking about this Gryffindor Seeker. They were comparing him to you. And suddenly, that flicker of intrigue twisted into something colder, something heavier.

Fear.

You didn’t let it show, though. You kept your face neutral, acting as though the news didn’t faze you in the slightest. But inside, your heart was pounding. After all the time and effort you’d spent, all the pressure to stay on top—now, there was someone else. Someone who could take that from you.

When Gryffindor’s next match came around, you knew you had to see him for yourself. You arrived early, blending into the sea of students in the stands, hoping no one would notice you. But as the teams took the field and the match began, all your focus honed in on the new Seeker.

The first time you saw him in action, your stomach twisted. He flew with a kind of reckless grace, weaving between players, eyes locked on the sky. And when he took off in a burst of speed to chase after the Snitch, you felt a chill crawl up your spine.

He was fast.

Too fast.

It was almost like watching yourself out there, but from the outside. The way he flew—the sharp turns, the sudden bursts of speed—it was disturbingly familiar. And when he finally closed in on the Snitch, catching it just before the other Seeker even realized it was in play, you felt something cold settle deep in your chest.

This couldn’t be happening.

For the first time in a long while, doubt began to creep in. What if you weren’t the best anymore? What if this new Seeker was faster, sharper, better than you?

You tried to shake it off as the crowd erupted in cheers, Gryffindor celebrating their victory. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, the image of that Seeker—flying at speeds that almost rivaled yours—stuck in your mind.

The cold feeling lingered, gnawing at the edges of your confidence.

This couldn’t be. You had worked too hard, pushed yourself too far. You weren’t about to let someone take your place.

Not now. Not ever.

Gryffindor’s win was explosive, their cheers carrying across the pitch as their team gathered in celebration. But you barely heard it over the sound of your own thoughts. The new Seeker had been good—too good. And now, with the match over and your curiosity far from satisfied, you found yourself walking toward the players’ tent, driven by a need to see him up close, to size up the competition for yourself.

The other players, still buzzing with adrenaline from the game, spotted you as you approached, and a ripple of excitement passed through them. One good thing about being you—respected, almost revered by your peers—was that they always welcomed you, no matter the house. The Gryffindor team, flushed from their victory, greeted you with open arms, grins wide and unguarded.

“Hey! Y/N!” one of them called, clapping you on the back like an old friend.

They let you pass easily, no one questioning why you were there or what you wanted. But you weren’t there for them. You were there for him.

As you made your way deeper into the tent, you spotted him almost immediately. He had his back turned to you, his posture relaxed as he spoke animatedly with two other Gryffindors. You paused for a moment, taking him in from a distance. Taller than you, broader too, though not intimidatingly so. Something about the way he carried himself seemed effortless, like flying had always come easy to him.

You took a breath, then approached. “Excuse me,” you said, your voice steady, though your pulse quickened.

The two guys he was talking to noticed you first, their faces lighting up in recognition. “Y/N!” one of them exclaimed, “Hey, come meet our new Seeker!”

At that, the Gryffindor Seeker—Sim Jaeyun, you reminded yourself—turned around, and for a split second, you felt your breath catch.

Shit.

Up close, he was even more striking than you had expected. His black hair fell into loose curls that framed a face almost annoyingly perfect. Sharp eyes, high cheekbones, and a smile so wide and genuine it made you feel, for just a heartbeat, completely disarmed. It was the kind of smile that hit you like a bludger—out of nowhere and hard.

“So, you’re the new Seeker of Gryffindor,” you said, forcing yourself to remain composed, though your eyes couldn’t help but quickly glance him up and down. He was tall, athletic, and clearly skilled—he had proven that on the pitch—but now, standing in front of you, there was something more to him. Something that made you both intrigued and annoyed at the same time.

“You’ve already made quite a name for yourself,” you added, trying to sound casual, though your mind was racing.

Jaeyun’s grin only widened, and it was the biggest, warmest smile you had ever been given by anyone. His whole face lit up with it, and suddenly, he didn’t seem like a rival Seeker. He just seemed… charming.

“Yeah, that’s me! Pleasure to meet you!” His voice had a lively, easygoing tone, and it threw you off balance for a moment.

“Y/N, this is Sim Jaeyun!” one of the other guys said, slinging an arm around Jaeyun’s shoulder with a grin. “But—oh, please! Call me Jake,” Jaeyun—or Jake—chimed in with a laugh, shaking his head at his friend’s formality.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself. His energy was so different from what you had imagined—a fierce, competitive rival on the pitch, but off it, he was almost… friendly? “Pleasure to be acquainted with you, Jake,” you said, though it came out a bit more formal than you had intended.

Jake laughed again, and you couldn’t help but notice how his smile seemed to make everyone around him more relaxed. “Likewise, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he added, his sharp eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

For a moment, you were caught off guard. It wasn’t often you met someone who could match your skill and still be so disarmingly kind. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. You had come here expecting to face a rival, someone to challenge—but instead, you found someone with a charm and warmth that made it impossible to feel threatened.

But still, beneath the surface of his friendly exterior, you knew. He was fast. He was talented. And if you weren’t careful, he’d be gunning for your spot as the best Seeker in no time.

Not if I can help it, you thought, shaking off the brief spell his charisma had cast over you. You weren’t going to let anyone take your place—not even Jake.

The moment stretched on longer than you had expected, Jake's easygoing grin still lighting up his face as if this whole interaction was nothing more than two friends meeting after a match. You knew better. He wasn’t just any Seeker—he was the one who had come dangerously close to your record, and the look in his eyes told you that he was very aware of it, even if he wasn’t saying it out loud.

But despite the friendly atmosphere, that cold feeling from earlier began to creep back. This wasn’t just a casual meeting for you. You could feel the quiet tension lingering beneath the surface. You were sizing him up, and if Jake was smart, he was doing the same to you.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too,” you finally said, your voice smooth, though your pulse quickened. “Your reputation’s spreading fast, especially after today’s match. Almost as fast as you.”

Jake chuckled at that, running a hand through his curls, clearly unfazed by the hint of competition in your words. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a wink. “Though, to be honest, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I’m going to reach your level.”

The way he said it—so nonchalant, so effortless—it almost sounded like he wasn’t worried about whether he’d catch up. Like he knew he would.

That unsettled you.

One of the other Gryffindor players chimed in, clapping Jake on the back. “Jake’s a natural, isn’t he? First year on the team and already flying like he’s been doing it for ages. Honestly, Y/N, you’ve got some real competition now!”

You forced a smile, though the words hit harder than you’d like to admit. Real competition. You weren’t used to hearing that. For years, you’d been the best, the Seeker everyone feared on the pitch. And now, here he was—Sim Jaeyun, or Jake, as he insisted—taking away the certainty that you’d built your reputation on.

But you weren’t about to let that show. You gave Jake a once-over again, trying to push aside the nagging feeling in your gut. “I guess we’ll see about that in the next match,” you said, your tone calm but with an edge, a challenge hidden just beneath the surface.

Jake’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, it grew. “Looking forward to it,” he said with a glint of excitement in his eyes. He wasn’t backing down. If anything, he seemed even more eager now that he had your attention.

You didn’t quite know how to respond to that—he was disarming in a way that threw you off balance, his energy infectious but his confidence quietly unnerving. You could already feel the weight of the next match looming over you, the pressure to not just win, but to prove you were still the best.

The conversation shifted, the Gryffindor players talking about the match and making plans for the evening, but you remained quiet, your mind buzzing with thoughts of Jake’s flying, of the way he had zipped through the air like a blur, almost matching your own speed.

Soon enough, Jake turned back to you, his smile still easy but his gaze sharper now, as if he sensed your inner conflict. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Y/N,” he said, his voice light but carrying a weight beneath the playful tone. “I think we’re going to have some fun this season.”

There was that competitive gleam again, the unspoken promise that he wasn’t just here to be a friendly face—he was here to win, to challenge you.

You met his gaze head-on, your resolve hardening. “You’d better,” you replied, your voice even. “Because I’m not slowing down.”

Jake’s grin widened, but there was a spark of respect in his eyes now, like he knew this wasn’t going to be easy for either of you. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you knew that too.

As you finally turned to leave, your thoughts were racing faster than any broom could carry you. You had come to see who this new Seeker was, and now that you had, the reality was far more complicated than you had anticipated. Jake wasn’t just fast or skilled—he was good. He had the talent, the confidence, and, worst of all, the kind of charisma that made people want to root for him.

But you weren’t about to let that stop you. If anything, it fueled the fire inside you. You’d push yourself harder, faster—just like you had always done. The cold feeling from before was still there, but now it was mixed with something else: determination.

Because one thing was clear—you were going to show Jake, and everyone else, that you weren’t just the best Seeker. You were untouchable.

☆

The gossip spread through the school like wildfire. At first, it was the usual chatter—students making bets on who would be faster, who would catch the Snitch first in the inevitable showdown between you and Jake. Some people swore you’d remain untouchable, while others were eager to see the new Seeker take you down. But then, somewhere along the way, the talk shifted.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just about Quidditch. People started to whisper about you and Jake—not as rivals, but as something else.

“Did you hear? I bet they end up together,” you overheard one Hufflepuff girl whisper as you walked past in the corridor.

“Yeah, they’re totally going to be a couple. It’s obvious,” her friend replied.

You had almost tripped over your own feet when you heard that. A couple? You and Jake? The thought repulsed you. The idea of being linked to him—no matter how talented he was on the pitch—was absurd. Sure, he was good-looking, you couldn't deny that. And yeah, he had a killer smile, one that made people gravitate toward him, but that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

But the rumors didn’t stop. In fact, they got worse. Students from every house seemed to be talking about you and Jake as if it were some kind of inevitable future. Gryffindor girls teased you whenever they saw you, smirking knowingly as they passed. Slytherins, gave you sly looks whenever Jake’s name came up.

It was infuriating. You were rivals, not some star-crossed lovers from a romance novel. You would never, ever, be a couple with Jake. No matter how handsome he was, with his curls falling perfectly around his face. Or how funny he could be, always able to crack a joke and light up a room with that easygoing laugh of his. Or how humble he acted, even when people praised him endlessly for his skills. Or how smart—

Bloody hell.

You found yourself staring at him again during class. Jake was sitting a few seats ahead of you, casually taking notes, completely unaware that half the school had decided you two were destined to be Hogwarts’ next “it” couple. His brows were furrowed slightly as he focused on the lesson, his quill gliding smoothly across the parchment. He caught something funny that one of his friends had whispered to him, and for a moment, that grin spread across his face again, lighting up his features like the sun breaking through the clouds.

You quickly looked away, feeling your face flush.

Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to be with Jake, you found yourself thinking, much to your horror. You shook your head, trying to clear the thought. No. Absolutely not.

But no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the idea lingered in the back of your mind, gnawing at you. You hated it. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Jake like that. He was your competition, not your… whatever the hell your brain was trying to make him.

It didn’t help that every time you crossed paths, Jake seemed completely oblivious to the rumors. He treated you exactly the same as he always had—friendly, easygoing, with just enough competitive fire to keep you on edge. It was maddening how unaffected he was by it all, as if the idea of you two being together hadn’t even crossed his mind.

But then again, why would it? You were his rival, after all. Nothing more.

Right?

Still, as the whispers grew louder and the school buzzed with anticipation for the next Quidditch match, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing—both on and off the pitch. Jake was everywhere now, not just in your thoughts, but in the eyes of everyone around you.

And as much as you tried to fight it, part of you was starting to wonder what it would be like if—just if—those whispers turned out to be true.

☆

The day of the Gryffindor versus your house match loomed closer, and with it, the tension between you and Jake shifted in a way that you hadn’t expected. The usual competitive energy was still there, but now, it came with something else—something lighter, sharper, and far more confusing.

It started with small things. During Quidditch practice, when you’d see Jake flying laps around the pitch, you’d catch him looking your way. Not with the intense, focused gaze of a rival, but with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Every time your eyes met, he’d give a little wave or throw in a wink, as if daring you to react.

You ignored it at first, brushing it off as Jake just being his usual, annoyingly charming self. But then, during one particularly windy afternoon, as you were heading off the pitch after practice, he caught up to you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called, jogging lightly to match your stride. You could feel him watching you out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t slow down.

“What do you want, Sim?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

He just laughed, his voice light and teasing. “Sim? Ouch. No more ‘Jake’? I thought we were getting past formalities.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile pulling at your lips. “What’s the matter? Worried I’m not going to give you a nickname during the match when I beat you?”

“Oh, if you beat me, I’ll be sure to remember that,” he shot back, stepping in front of you to block your path, that signature grin of his firmly in place. There was a playful glint in his eyes now, something far more mischievous than you’d seen before. He wasn’t backing down, and for some reason, that sent a thrill through you.

“You know,” Jake continued, leaning in just slightly, “I’ve been thinking… We should make this match a bit more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “Interesting how?”

He grinned wider, his eyes twinkling. “How about a bet?”

“A bet?” You crossed your arms, skeptical but curious. “What kind of bet?”

Jake shrugged, casually tossing his broom over his shoulder, all smooth confidence. “If I catch the Snitch before you, you have to buy me butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. If you win, I’ll buy for you.”

You blinked at him, your brain scrambling to catch up with his sudden challenge. He wasn’t even trying to hide the flirtatious edge to his voice anymore, and for a moment, you wondered if this was all just part of his game—an attempt to throw you off before the match. But the warmth in his gaze made it hard to believe he had any ulterior motives.

“And what happens if neither of us catches it?” you asked, playing along despite yourself.

Jake tilted his head, pretending to think for a moment before flashing you another one of his disarming smiles. “Well, I guess we’ll both have to buy each other butterbeer then. Double the fun, right?”

You snorted, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Jake said with a shrug, “but you’re smiling.”

He was right, and that annoyed you. You weren’t supposed to be getting swept up in his charm. But there was something about the way Jake acted—confident but not cocky, playful but never disrespectful—that made it hard to stay distant. He was more than just competition. He was fun, and that made him dangerous in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the days passed and the match approached, the tension between you two only intensified—but not in the usual way. It wasn’t the fierce, almost icy rivalry you were used to. Instead, it became a back-and-forth exchange of smirks, teasing glances, and playful banter. You’d pass each other in the halls, and he’d nudge your shoulder just enough to get your attention.

“Better watch out, Y/N,” he’d whisper as you brushed past each other. “I’m coming for that Snitch.”

“Good luck catching it from behind me,” you’d retort, not missing a beat, though you could feel your heart race a little faster each time you saw that knowing grin on his face.

Even your friends started to notice. “What’s up with you and Jake?” one of your teammates asked one day after practice. “It’s like you’re flirting more than you’re actually preparing for the match.”

You scoffed, but there was no denying it now. Something had changed between you and Jake, and it wasn’t just competition anymore. It was the way he’d linger near you in the corridors, the way his smile seemed to linger in your thoughts long after you’d parted ways.

As the night before the match arrived, you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts circling back to him. The tension between you had shifted into something neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge fully, but it was there—thrumming beneath the surface like a secret only the two of you shared.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, you thought to yourself, your heart beating just a little faster at the memory of his smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad at all.

The next morning, the air around the school buzzed with a palpable energy. Everyone was talking about the match, students from every house excitedly debating who would win—your team or Gryffindor. The anticipation had reached a fever pitch, and the whispers that had been trailing you and Jake only fueled the hype.

But unlike everyone else, you were calm. Strangely so. While your teammates were buzzing with nervous energy, checking and re-checking their gear, you felt a quiet confidence settle over you. It wasn’t arrogance, it was just a feeling deep in your gut. Today, you were going to win. You didn’t know why you felt so sure, but something in you was certain of it.

As you made your way to breakfast, the hallways were packed with students already wearing their house colors, chanting and hyping each other up. “Y/N, you’ve got this!” a group of first-years called out as you passed, their faces lit up with excitement.

You waved them off with a small smile, though inside, the quiet confidence remained. You knew what you had to do. All that was left was to get through the day.

The hours in class crawled by. You barely registered the lessons, your mind already on the pitch. And you weren’t alone. Every time you looked around, your classmates were whispering about the match, scribbling notes to each other instead of paying attention to the professors.

At one point, you overheard some students talking about how a few of the more ambitious witches and wizards had tried to speed up time. Of course, they had failed—or so the rumors went. Some were said to have gotten caught by the professors, earning themselves detentions for their impatience. Others claimed that someone had actually managed to slow down time instead, making the wait for the match feel even longer.

You chuckled to yourself at the absurdity of it all. As if magic could bend time just because a few students were too eager to see a Quidditch match. Then again, it was Hogwarts. Stranger things had happened.

By the time your last class of the day rolled around, you could feel the collective restlessness in the air. Even the professors seemed to have given up on trying to get anyone to focus. They were just as eager for the match, though they kept a better poker face than the students. You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to keep your cool, while around you, classmates fidgeted impatiently.

It didn’t help that Jake sat a few rows ahead of you, completely unfazed by the chaos. Every now and then, he’d glance back over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours with that same playful glint they always held. He gave you a small nod, his lips twitching into a half-smile as if to say, Ready?

You just raised an eyebrow in response. You weren’t about to let him see how his presence still unnerved you, even if just a little.

As the final bell rang, the halls erupted with noise, students rushing out to claim their seats at the Quidditch pitch. Your teammates were already gathering, the excitement palpable as they met in the common room to head down together. But you hung back for a moment, feeling that strange calm wash over you again.

“Y/N, you coming?” one of your teammates called out, already halfway to the door.

“Yeah,” you replied, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the pitch was surreal, a sea of students flowing toward the stands, their voices a mix of excitement and nervous energy. The sky above was a perfect, crisp blue—ideal flying conditions. As you approached the pitch, your eyes swept across the expanse, the stands packed with students wearing their house colors, banners waving, chants growing louder by the second.

Your teammates huddled up in the locker room, each of them vibrating with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. But you, once again, felt steady. Sure. The game plan ran through your mind like clockwork, and every instinct told you that today was your day.

As you grabbed your broom and headed toward the field, a Gryffindor player brushed past you on their way out. “Hope you’re ready, Y/N,” they said with a grin. “Jake’s been talking all week about how he’s going to beat you.”

You smirked, giving a casual shrug. “We’ll see about that.”

When you finally stepped out onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. The noise was deafening, chants from all four houses echoing in the air as they cheered for their teams. Your eyes immediately sought out Jake across the field. There he was, standing tall with his broom in hand, his Gryffindor teammates huddled around him.

He caught your gaze and, even from a distance, gave you that familiar smile—one that was far too confident for your liking. But instead of feeling rattled, you felt… excited. You were ready.

The two of you would face off soon, and no matter what people were saying, no matter how much they wanted to pit you two against each other in more ways than one, this was still about Quidditch. It was still about winning. And today, you were going to prove, once and for all, who the best Seeker was.

The whistle blew, and you mounted your broom, ready for whatever came next.

The roar of the crowd surged as the whistle echoed across the pitch. You felt the vibration of the noise in your chest, but your heart remained steady, your mind focused. You gripped your broom, the familiar feel of the handle beneath your fingers grounding you as you kicked off the ground and shot into the sky.

The wind whipped past your face as you climbed higher, scanning the pitch for the glint of gold. Below, the game had already begun, the Chasers from both teams darting back and forth, the Bludgers zipping through the air, but your focus was elsewhere. The Snitch. That was all that mattered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake rise up beside you, his broom slicing through the air with practiced ease. He glanced over, flashing you that same confident grin he always wore. “Ready for this?” he shouted over the wind.

“Always,” you called back, smirking despite yourself. You weren’t about to let him get inside your head—not today.

The game below intensified, but up here, it was just you and Jake. The crowd's cheers faded into background noise, replaced by the steady beat of your heart and the hum of your broom. You could feel the tension between you two, not just the competitive edge but that other kind of tension—the one that had been building ever since the rumors started.

But none of that mattered right now. Not when you were both hunting for the Snitch, eyes sharp and hands steady.

Suddenly, a flash of gold appeared near the Gryffindor goalposts, darting in and out of sight. Without thinking, you leaned forward, your broom responding instantly as you shot toward it. Jake was right beside you, moving just as fast, his focus as intense as yours.

The two of you raced through the air, neck and neck, weaving through the other players like they weren’t even there. Your speed increased, the wind biting at your face, but you blinked away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You could see the Snitch now, clear as day, hovering just ahead, and you pushed yourself harder, faster.

Jake was right beside you, his presence impossible to ignore. He was fast, maybe even faster than you’d expected, but you weren’t about to let him beat you. Not today.

The Snitch zigzagged in front of you, leading you on a dizzying chase, but you kept your eyes locked on it, blocking out everything else. Jake’s broom edged closer to yours, the two of you flying so close you could almost feel the heat of his body next to yours.

“Not bad, Y/N,” Jake called out, his voice laced with amusement. “But I’ve got this.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to be distracted. “We’ll see about that.”

In that split second, the Snitch made a sharp turn, darting toward the opposite end of the pitch. You reacted instantly, pulling your broom into a steep dive. Jake followed, the two of you plummeting toward the ground at breakneck speed. The crowd gasped, but you didn’t hear it. All you could hear was the wind rushing past your ears and the pounding of your heart in your chest.

The Snitch was just out of reach now, taunting you as it danced in the air. You reached out, fingers brushing against the cold metal wings, but just as you were about to close your hand around it, Jake’s broom nudged yours, ever so slightly. It wasn’t enough to throw you off completely, but it was enough to make you miss.

“Dammit!” you hissed under your breath, shooting Jake a glare as he grinned at you.

“Gotta be quicker than that,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You didn’t respond, your focus already back on the Snitch. It darted up again, back toward the clouds, and you followed, Jake right on your tail. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. You pushed yourself harder, faster, the familiar burn of effort spreading through your muscles as you leaned into the speed.

Jake was good—maybe even as good as you—but this was your game, your win. You weren’t going to let him take this from you.

The Snitch hovered just ahead, and with one final burst of speed, you reached out, your fingers closing around the cool, fluttering metal.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, and the roar of the crowd hit you all at once, louder than ever. You barely registered it, your chest heaving as you clutched the Snitch in your hand, the golden wings still fluttering feebly against your palm.

You won.

As you landed, your teammates swarmed you, cheering and shouting in celebration. You barely had time to catch your breath before someone threw their arms around you, congratulating you on another victory. But through the chaos, your eyes found Jake, still hovering in the air, watching you with a mixture of disappointment and… admiration?

He flew down to meet you, dismounting his broom with that same easy grace he always had. Despite the loss, there was no malice in his eyes. In fact, he looked impressed.

“Well played, Y/N,” Jake said as he approached, his tone light, but there was a hint of something else in his voice—respect, maybe. Or something more.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you replied, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.

Jake grinned, his dark eyes glinting with that familiar playful edge. “Guess I owe you a butterbeer then, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess so.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. The crowd, the cheers, the match—it all became background noise as you stood there with Jake, the tension between you no longer just competitive but something else entirely.

“Next time, though,” Jake said, stepping closer, “I’m not going easy on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the closeness, the subtle challenge in his voice. “You think today was easy?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Jake’s grin widened. “Maybe a little.” Then, with a wink, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, the Snitch still in your hand and your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the match.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, you thought, watching him disappear into the crowd.

☆

In the days following the match, the chatter around the school only intensified. The usual post-game buzz had, of course, shifted—sure, people still talked about how you caught the Snitch in record time, securing the win for your house, but more and more of the gossip was about you and Jake.

It was as if your rivalry had evolved into something far more entertaining for everyone. The whispers were relentless: Y/N and Jake? Power couple of the year! Did you see how he was looking at her? I bet they're together already!

At first, you brushed it off. You had no intention of letting a few baseless rumors bother you. You and Jake were just… well, rivals. Nothing more. But the more you ignored it, the bolder Jake seemed to become. And soon, it was impossible to deny that he was aware of the gossip, and what’s worse—he was leaning into it.

Jake was everywhere. Between classes, in the corridors, during meals in the Great Hall, and even after Quidditch practice, he found a way to insert himself into your day. At first, it was subtle—catching your eye from across the room, a quick smirk, or a teasing comment thrown your way as he walked past. But it quickly escalated. He was more flirty, more playful, and bolder with each passing day.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, attempting to study for your next Transfiguration exam. The room was quiet, students scattered at various tables, all hunched over books and parchment. You were deep in your notes when, out of nowhere, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Studying hard, I see.”

You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Jake slid into the chair across from you, his usual easy grin plastered on his face, like he had all the time in the world.

“Do you mind?” you asked, half-annoyed but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Some of us actually have exams to prepare for.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered. “You’re always so focused. Thought I’d give you a break.” He glanced at your open textbook, then back at you. “You could use one.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your heart sped up just a little. He was getting too comfortable around you, and the worst part was that you didn’t entirely hate it. “I don’t need a break, Jake. I need to pass this exam.”

“C’mon,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows, his gaze locking with yours. “Even the best need a breather now and then.”

It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he was looking at you, his eyes sharp yet playful, like he knew exactly what he was doing. He was more than just friendly now. There was a boldness in his tone, a clear intent behind his actions, and you were starting to see it for what it was: he was trying to fit into your life, little by little.

“Jake…” you began, but he cut you off with a grin.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors,” he said, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “About us.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by his directness. “Of course I’ve heard them,” you muttered, pretending to go back to your notes. “It’s all anyone talks about.”

“And?” he pressed, leaning in even closer now, his face inches from yours. “What do you think?”

You didn’t want to admit that you had thought about it. That his constant presence had started to get under your skin in a way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. But admitting that to Jake? No chance.

“I think people are bored and have nothing better to do,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

Jake chuckled, clearly not buying your dismissal. “You sure? Because I’ve got to say, I think we’d make a pretty great power couple. I mean, we’ve already got the whole rivalry thing going. We’d keep it interesting.”

You shook your head, but you were smiling now. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning wider, “but you’re still smiling.”

It was hard to ignore how much effort he was putting into this—into you. He wasn’t just teasing for the sake of it anymore. He was showing up, paying attention, and it felt like he was pushing his way into your already busy, complicated life. At first, it unnerved you, but the more he did it, the harder it became to deny that a part of you didn’t mind the attention. Maybe, just maybe, you even liked it.

Everywhere you went, Jake was there—whether it was to walk you to class, offer you a cheeky remark about the rumors, or even just sit beside you during meals, stealing your food off your plate like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The thing was, he wasn’t just some overconfident Quidditch player trying to get under your skin. He was genuinely fun to be around, and despite your best efforts to keep things professional and competitive, you found yourself laughing more around him, smiling without even realizing it.

One evening after practice, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a brilliant shade of orange and pink, Jake caught up with you again, jogging lightly to match your pace as you walked back toward the castle.

“You know,” he said, his voice casual, “I could help you with that Transfiguration exam. I’m pretty good with theory.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “You? Study?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” he teased, grinning. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. What’s the catch?”

Jake paused for a moment, pretending to think before flashing you a charming smile. “No catch. Just thought it might be fun to spend more time together. You know, if we’re going to be Hogwarts’ favorite couple, we should probably get used to each other.”

There it was again—bold, playful, and completely unafraid of pushing the boundary between friendly banter and something more. And as much as you wanted to push him away, to keep things strictly about Quidditch and school, you found yourself softening toward him.

“Alright, Sim,” you said, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “You want to help me study? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jake’s smile grew wider, and as you walked side by side toward the castle.

☆

The day of the next match arrived, but this time, you weren’t nervous. In fact, you were almost bored by the prospect. The other team had a seeker you’d gone up against more than once before. He was good, decent even, but he had one glaring weakness: his ridiculous crush on you.

You didn’t mind using it to your advantage. Quidditch wasn’t about feelings; it was about strategy, speed, and focus. And it wasn’t your fault if their seeker couldn’t keep his eyes on the Snitch instead of on you.

The morning was crisp as you made your way to the pitch, your Firebolt slung over your shoulder. Your teammates were buzzing with excitement, as usual, but you were unusually calm. Victory felt like a foregone conclusion.

As you arrived on the pitch, you saw him across the field, already in his gear, stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You suppressed an eye roll. He was hopeless. He’d never even worked up the courage to ask you out, not that it would’ve mattered. You weren’t interested. He wasn’t your type at all—too much of a show-off, too self-absorbed in his image. You couldn’t stand the way he talked big but couldn’t back it up.

Jake, on the other hand… well, that was a different story. But now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

As you mounted your broom, you locked eyes with the other seeker. His face immediately turned red, and he looked away, fiddling nervously with his gloves. You smirked. This was going to be easier than you thought.

The whistle blew, and you shot into the air, the wind rushing past your face. The familiar feeling of freedom took over as you soared higher, scanning the sky for any sign of the Snitch. Below, the Chasers were already battling it out for the Quaffle, but you paid them no mind. Your eyes darted around the pitch, searching for that telltale glint of gold.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the other seeker trailing behind you, his focus split between you and the Snitch. You smirked to yourself. He was already distracted, and the game had barely started.

Moments passed, and your team had already secured an early lead. You weren’t even concerned about the score, though. Your only focus was the Snitch, and you knew the rest would fall into place.

It wasn’t long before you spotted it—a flash of gold hovering just below the goalposts. You leaned forward, your Firebolt responding instantly as you sped toward it. The other seeker noticed you moving and hurried to follow, but you could tell his heart wasn’t fully in it. He was already hesitating, probably wondering what you were thinking, whether you’d noticed him looking at you earlier.

Typical.

You made a sharp dive, pulling him with you, then shot upward at the last second. He followed, but slower, distracted by the proximity. As he closed in, you glanced back, locking eyes with him for just a second. It was all the distraction you needed.

He slowed, his focus slipping for just a moment as he looked at you, probably trying to figure out what you were about to do. You saw the doubt flicker in his eyes, and that was all it took.

With a sharp turn, you dove again, this time for real. The Snitch was right there, dancing just out of reach, but your hand was steady as you reached out, fingers closing around the cool metal. The crowd erupted in cheers, but you barely heard them. The win was as certain as you’d expected.

You descended back to the pitch, the Snitch clenched in your fist as your teammates swarmed around you, congratulating you on yet another victory. You hardly broke a sweat.

As you dismounted your broom, you glanced back at the seeker. He was still hovering in the air, looking sheepish, as if he knew exactly how badly he’d been played. He didn’t even bother to come down to shake hands with you. Not that you cared—he was the type to hide behind his bravado, all talk and no substance. He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d ever be interested in.

You were about to leave the pitch when you felt a presence beside you. Jake, of course. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced up at the seeker. “You’ve really got that guy wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not my fault he can’t focus.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. “I don’t know. Something tells me you enjoy it a little too much.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, smirking. “But a win’s a win.”

Jake chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than usual. “Remind me never to fall for one of your tricks, then.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Who says you haven’t already?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, Jake looked genuinely caught off guard. Then, he grinned that familiar, cocky grin of his. “Touché,” he said, giving you a wink before walking off toward his teammates.

You watched him go, a strange warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe you had a point. Jake was smart—he wouldn’t get distracted the way the seeker did. But you couldn’t help wondering if, in some way, he was already playing the same game you were.

And just maybe, you were starting to enjoy it.

The next day, as you made your way through the crowded corridors of Hogwarts, the last thing you expected was to be stopped by the seeker from the previous match. He stepped right in front of you, forcing you to halt abruptly.

"Can I help you?" you asked, already annoyed by his presence.

"Yeah, you can," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face. "With going out with me tomorrow." His tone wasn’t one of polite suggestion—it was a command.

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your disgust. "I'm not interested."

His grin faltered, and you could see the beginnings of anger flash across his face. "What are you talking about? Who would reject me?" His voice was rising, drawing more attention from the surrounding students.

"I would," you said flatly, folding your arms across your chest. "In a million lifetimes."

His face twisted in disbelief. "You can't reject me! Look at me! I'm the best seeker there is!" His voice was now loud enough to echo through the hall.

You were about to fire back when, suddenly, someone wrapped their arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close. Instinctively, you tensed, ready to push them off, until you heard the familiar voice.

"Didn't you hear, you oaf? She said no. Now piss off," Jake said, his tone casual but edged with a sharpness that made the surrounding crowd quiet down.

You relaxed slightly, realizing it was Jake who had pulled you into this unexpected embrace. His arms were secure around you, his chin resting just above your head as he glared at the seeker from over your shoulder. His hold on you felt possessive, but protective at the same time, a sharp contrast to the arrogant and demanding tone of the guy in front of you.

The seeker blinked, seemingly unable to process what was happening. "Huh?"

"Are you deaf?" Jake said, louder this time. "The lady said no. Now back off."

You could hear the whispers from the students gathered around. All eyes were on the three of you. It was impossible not to notice how the situation had escalated into a full-on spectacle. Part of you was growing more irritated by the attention. Where were the teachers when you needed them? You’d even take Filch showing up right now, just to diffuse this ridiculous situation.

Just as it seemed like the seeker was about to snap, you heard the clipped, authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall approaching from behind the crowd. "What is going on here?" she demanded.

Jake’s arms didn’t loosen around you as he answered smoothly. "Allow me to explain, Professor. We were all on our way to class when this student decided it would be appropriate to bother Y/N, despite her repeatedly saying no."

McGonagall’s stern gaze flicked to the seeker, who looked as if he was about to argue. "That’s not—"

But before he could defend himself, a chorus of voices from the gathered students confirmed Jake’s version of events. McGonagall didn’t need any more convincing.

"Twenty points from your house Mr. Cogsworth for improper behavior," she snapped, her eyes narrowing at the boy. "And detention, I think, would be appropriate. Now, to your classes, all of you!"

The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving you standing there with Jake still holding you. You let out a deep breath, the tension slowly draining from your body now that it was over. You glanced up at Jake, who finally loosened his grip, though his arm lingered around your waist.

"Thank you," you said, looking up at him. There was a mixture of relief and genuine gratitude in your voice.

Jake smiled down at you, the sharpness in his expression softening. "No problem," he replied casually, but his eyes held something else—something more than just friendliness.

You stood there for a moment, the two of you alone as the hallway emptied out, the echoes of whispers still faint in the distance. The rumors about you and Jake were only going to get worse after this, and somehow, you didn’t care as much as you thought you would.

Jake finally let go, but not before shooting you a playful smirk. "Seems like I keep showing up just in time, don’t I?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Maybe, but you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it."

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. "What can I say? I’m just trying to protect my favorite rival."

With that, he turned and started walking away, throwing you one last glance over his shoulder. "See you later, Y/N."

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but shake your head, a mixture of exasperation and something else you didn’t want to admit filling your chest. Maybe Jake Sim was becoming more than just your rival.

☆

You were browsing through the shelves of the little bookshop in Hogsmeade, your arms full of books. A couple of Quidditch guides and strategy manuals were stacked in your arms, but hidden beneath them, tucked away, was a muggle romance novel. You felt a little embarrassed by the thought of anyone catching you with it.

Your eyes landed on a book at the very top shelf that you really wanted. It was out of reach, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge. You were just about to climb the shelf or grab your wand when a hand appeared from behind you and plucked the book from its place.

"Here you go," the guy said, handing it to you. You turned, surprised.

"Thank you," you muttered, taking the book and preparing to move on.

"No problem, Y/N," he replied, and you stilled. Great, another one who knew you from Quidditch. "I saw your latest match. You were so fast, I could barely keep my eyes on you!"

You forced a polite smile. "Thanks."

But he wasn’t finished. "How did you get so good?" he asked, leaning an arm against the shelf and looking down at you with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Red flags were already popping up. His posture was way too close, his voice far too familiar for your liking.

"Practice," you answered shortly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

Instead, he kept talking, throwing more questions at you, trying to get you to open up. But the way he loomed over you, the casual smirk, the way he moved closer with every word—it all set off alarm bells in your head. You weren’t digging this. At all.

Then, with a sleazy grin, he leaned in even closer and asked, "Hey, you aren’t really dating Sim Jaeyun, are you? ‘Cause I can give you a much better ride."

The comment sent a wave of disgust through you.

You glared at him, stepping back. "I think you better back up now."

"Come on, dollface," he said, his tone greasy, as he reached for your arm.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist with a force that made you drop all the books in your hands, scattering them across the floor. His grip was too tight, almost painful, and you tugged at your wrist, trying to break free. "Let me go!" you snapped, slapping him hard across the face.

The slap worked—he released you and grabbed at his face, shocked. You quickly stepped backward, your heart racing, only to bump into something solid behind you.

“What the fuck is going on here?” a familiar voice said, cold and sharp. You turned and saw Jake standing right behind you, holding a box of candy in one hand, his face twisted into a look of pure fury.

The guy who had grabbed you looked stunned, but Jake wasn’t giving him an inch. Without saying a word, Jake stepped in front of you, placing himself between you and the creep. His body language was all protective, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a deadly seriousness.

"Nothing. Nothing," the guy stammered, raising his hands defensively.

Jake’s eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Didn’t seem like nothing to me."

The tension in the air was palpable, and you didn’t wait for the situation to escalate further. You knew Jake could handle himself—and handle him—so without another word, you fled out of the shop, your heart pounding.

Once outside, you took in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You had never been in a situation like that before, and the reality of how easily it could have gone worse made your hands tremble slightly.

After a few minutes of pacing outside the shop, you saw Jake emerge, his expression calm but his eyes still stormy. He caught sight of you and immediately walked over.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, his concern genuine.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Thanks for stepping in."

"Anytime," Jake said, his anger melting into a more familiar, reassuring smile. "Though I have to say, you did a pretty good job of handling him on your own."

You managed a weak laugh, the adrenaline still running through your veins. "Yeah, thanks,"

You noticed how Jake was carrying your stack of books in his arms, as he casually held them out to you. "Here," he said, his voice laced with a teasing undertone. "All taken care of. You don't owe a thing."

You blinked in surprise, reaching out to take the books from him. "Wait—what do you mean 'taken care of'?"

Jake's grin only widened. "I paid for them. You looked like you had enough to deal with already, so I figured I’d save you the trouble."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, his eyes dropped to the bottom of the stack, where your muggle romance novel was now in plain view. "Oh, and this," he said, tapping the cover of the book with a playful smirk, "is interesting. Didn’t think you were the type."

You flushed, "Jake," you warned, narrowing your eyes.

"What? I’m not judging!" he said, laughing. "In fact, I think it’s great. A little break from Quidditch and all the pressure, right?"

"Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly want everyone to know I’m reading stuff like this."

Jake tilted his head, giving you an easy smile. "Everyone? Nah, just me. And like I said, your secret’s safe."

You couldn’t help but smile back, even though you were still a little mortified. "Thanks. Really, though, you didn’t have to pay for the books. I could’ve handled it."

Jake shrugged casually. "I know, but consider it a thank you. For not letting that guy get away with being a complete prat." He winked, and his teasing tone faded into something a little softer. "And for letting me help."

"Well," you said, shifting the weight of the books in your arms, "thanks for that too. I’m glad you were there."

Jake’s grin returned, lighter this time. "Anytime. Though next time, maybe we’ll run into each other under less dramatic circumstances."

"Yeah, maybe," you said, chuckling.

He gave you a playful salute before stepping back. "See you later, Y/N."

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe this whole "Jake inserting himself into your life" thing wasn’t as bad as you once thought.

☆

Another match against Gryffindor was electric. The tension had been building for weeks, whispers of the rematch filling the halls of Hogwarts. You and Jake had exchanged some playful banter leading up to it, but today, all that was out the window. You were focused, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you soared through the sky, scanning for the Golden Snitch.

Jake was right beside you, keeping pace as you both zoomed across the pitch. He was good—really good—but you had the edge. You always did. Your broom, your trusty Firebolt, had never let you down. It had carried you to victory time and time again, and today would be no different.

Or so you thought.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the Snitch glinting in the sunlight. Jake saw it at the same time, and the two of you surged forward, neck and neck. The wind whipped around you, and the crowd was roaring, but all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat, faster and faster, as you reached out—

And then, everything went wrong.

Your broom, the one that had never failed you before, suddenly jolted beneath you, veering sharply to the side. You tried to correct it, but it was like the broom had a mind of its own, pulling you upward in a violent arc. Panic shot through you as you fought to regain control, but nothing worked. The broom spasmed wildly, throwing you off balance.

You looked ahead just in time to see Jake catch the Snitch. His face lit up in victory for a split second, but then you saw it—his expression twisted into shock and horror as he realized what was happening to you.

You barely had time to process it before the broom slung you upward and then threw you off, hard and fast. The world became a blur of colors as you plummeted, the wind tearing at your skin, the ground rushing up to meet you. You heard the distant screams of the crowd, but they felt muted, like they were coming from underwater.

Jake’s voice called out to you, but you couldn’t make out the words. You saw him dive toward you, his face full of panic and worry, but he was too far away. Your broom was still flailing wildly in the air, useless now, just a blur of dark wood against the sky.

What the fuck? you thought as the ground got closer and closer.

Then everything went black.

The last thing you saw was Jake, desperately trying to reach you, his eyes wide with fear.

And then, nothing.

☆

When you regained consciousness, the familiar scent of herbs and antiseptics filled your nostrils, grounding you in a reality that felt both comforting and suffocating. Your head throbbed with a relentless ache, and as you blinked against the harsh light of the hospital wing, the room came into focus slowly. There were beds lined up against the walls, the usual sight of students recovering from various injuries, but it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn't quite grasp.

"You're finally awake, darling," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, rushing toward you with an air of both relief and urgency.

You attempted to sit up, but the hammering pain in your head forced you to reconsider. “How long was I out?” you managed to ask, your voice hoarse.

"Always straight to business. You've been here for three days," she replied, her brow furrowed with concern.

Three whole days. The weight of those words settled heavily on your chest. You nodded slowly, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Three days of unconsciousness—three days during which you had lost your first match.

The thought twisted in your gut. You had never experienced loss like this before. Not just a defeat, but the crushing weight of disappointment and failure. You could almost hear the whispers of your classmates echoing in your mind, the pitying glances that would follow you, the questions that would hang in the air like an unwanted specter.

When Madam Pomfrey finally left you alone, the stillness of the room felt oppressive. You knew what had happened, and the shame stung like a physical blow. You had let everyone down. Your father’s dreams for you, your mother’s unwavering support—now you could only imagine their disappointment. You had worked so hard to prove yourself, only to come crashing down like your broom.

As soon as you were released from the hospital wing, you pulled your hood up to hide your face, a futile attempt to shield yourself from the world as you made your way back to your dorm. Luckily, none of your roommates were around. The silence of the empty room was deafening.

Standing there, the reality of it all settled in, and an overwhelming surge of anger bubbled to the surface. Your eyes fell on your Firebolt, lying innocently by your bed, and you felt a rush of heat flood your chest. With a growl of frustration, you charged at it, fists flying. You didn’t stop until the broom lay in shattered pieces on the floor, splintered wood and bristles scattered around you. You didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision as you destroyed what had once been your most trusted companion.

Once the adrenaline faded and you stood surrounded by the wreckage, an icy emptiness filled the space where your fury had been. You felt hollow, as if all the light had been sucked out of you. Nothing mattered anymore. You didn’t matter.

Your perfect streak was done, and you were left with the aching void of your loss. A part of you craved the comfort of knowing you had once been a top Seeker, the recognition that came with it. But that part was overshadowed by the deep sense of shame that gnawed at your insides.

You sank to the floor amidst the wreckage of your Firebolt, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you. You were lost, and no matter how hard you tried to shake off the defeat, it lingered like a shadow, refusing to let you forget.

The days that followed were a blur of isolation and despair. You remained locked in your dorm room, cocooned in your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The world outside continued on, but inside, you felt like time had stopped.

When your friends had found you in a wreck, hair unkempt and eyes hollow, they didn’t hesitate to rush to your side, enveloping you in warmth and reassurance.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” one of them whispered, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “We’re here for you.”

You let them fuss over you for a while, grateful for their kindness. They brought you food and work, insisting you wouldn’t fall behind, but the offerings went untouched. You kept repeating that you weren’t hungry, ignoring the insistent rumble in your stomach until it finally fell silent, mirroring the emptiness you felt inside.

Your thoughts spiraled, a black cloud forming that consumed every rational thought, every flicker of happiness. The weight of your failure pressed down on you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and relentless. You lay in bed, staring into the dark corners of your mind, haunted by the faces of your teammates, your friends, your parents. The letters from your father piled up on your desk, one of them a howler you had the instinct to burn. You didn’t dare touch them, couldn’t bear the idea of facing their disappointment.

But what hurt most was Jake.

You learned from your friends that he had tried numerous times to reach you, sending notes and letters either through them or owls that perched patiently on your windowsill, waiting for a response that never came. Each time you saw an owl, your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You couldn't face him now—not after what had happened. You felt so far away from the confident Seeker he knew, so unworthy of his concern.

Even now, in your darkest moments, the thought of Jake stirred something within you—a bittersweet ache that reminded you of all the laughter you had shared, the playful banter that had ignited a spark you couldn’t fully understand. But you had buried it all under layers of guilt and shame, afraid of the emptiness that filled the void where joy used to be.

As the days dragged on, the loneliness became unbearable. You lay there in silence, feeling like a ghost in your own life, memories of flying high above the pitch a distant dream. You longed for the adrenaline of the chase, the thrill of the game, the camaraderie of your teammates—but all of that felt irretrievable now, lost in the wake of your loss.

One particularly heavy night, after a long day of tossing and turning, you finally glanced at the stack of letters. The ache in your heart swelled painfully, and the tears you thought you had dried up began to flow again. You could feel it deep in your bones: something was missing, a connection that had once brought you comfort now overshadowed by your own turmoil.

With a shaking breath, you grabbed one of the letters from the pile and held it in your trembling hands, wondering if perhaps reading it could provide some semblance of clarity. Would it bring you closer to understanding the man who had become such an integral part of your life, or would it drive you further into despair? Either way, you knew you couldn’t keep running from it forever.

With trembling hands, you carefully unfolded the first letter, the familiar scrawl of Jake’s handwriting making your heart flutter unexpectedly. You had avoided these for so long, but now, curiosity and desperation pushed you to read his words.

"Dear Y/N," it began, and you felt a rush of warmth just from those simple words.

He started with a confession: how, before he even joined the Quidditch team, he had watched you from afar during your matches, admiring the way you glided through the air with a confidence that seemed untouchable. “You probably didn’t even notice me,” he wrote, “but I noticed everything. The way you would tuck your hair behind your ear when you were focused, how you always managed to smile even after a tough practice. It was like you carried this light with you that drew everyone in, including me.”

You felt a small smile tug at your lips, the memory of those moments flickering in your mind. You had always thought of yourself as just another player, but Jake’s words painted a picture of someone extraordinary, someone worth looking up to.

As you continued reading, you found a list of all the things he loved about you—your determination, your laughter, the way you cared for your teammates, and even the silly little quirks you thought no one noticed. “I was so proud of you every time you won a match,” he wrote. “You were incredible out there, and I’d feel like the luckiest guy alive just to share the same pitch with you.”

A laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the tears that began to fall. Each line felt like a balm to your aching heart. He described how elated he felt when you acknowledged him, when you teased him back during practice or shared a joke. “It’s the little moments with you that make my heart race,” he admitted. “You bring so much joy into my life.”

Then, he turned to the day you met in the tent. As you read his recollection of that moment, your heart swelled. “Seeing you up close was surreal. You were so beautiful and strong, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was in the presence of someone untouchable,” he wrote. “I wanted to be there for you, to protect you, to make you smile.”

His words deepened the ache within you, and you wiped your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at how vulnerable he had been, pouring his heart onto the page. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, the way he always managed to lighten the mood even when things were tough.

And then came the heart-stopping confession. “I’ve fallen in love with you,” he wrote, plain and simple, yet each word carried the weight of a thousand emotions. “Everything about you captivates me. I want to hold you close, to listen to your worries, to be your safe space. I want to kiss you and tell you that you’re not alone. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine—now and always.”

You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as the tears streamed down your cheeks. Each word felt like a ray of light piercing through the dark cloud that had consumed you for so long. You hadn’t realized just how deeply you had longed for his affection, for the acknowledgment that you were loved not just for your skills but for who you truly were.

The more you read, the more you felt that heavy weight lifting, the suffocating darkness that had surrounded you beginning to dissolve with every heartfelt sentence. He spoke of dreams, of a future where you would support each other, and your heart swelled at the thought of being with him.

“Wouldn’t it be amazing to share everything together? To laugh, to explore, to just be?” he wrote. “You inspire me every single day, and I can’t help but hope you feel the same way about me.”

By the time you reached the final lines of the last letter, you were full-on crying, but it was a different kind of sorrow—one filled with hope and healing. Jake’s words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, pushing away the shadows that had lingered for too long.

You carefully placed the letters down, your heart racing. In that moment, you realized that despite the pain of the last few days, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Your cries echoed softly in the quiet of your dorm room, breaking the silence of the night. It didn’t take long for your roommates to stir, their sleepy voices filled with concern.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” one of them called out, their voice laced with worry.

You quickly wiped your tears, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “I—I’m fine,” you stammered, but the tremor in your voice gave you away.

The sound of shuffling feet and rustling blankets filled the room as your dormmates rushed to your side. Before you could protest, they enveloped you in a tight hug, their warmth wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. “You’re not fine,” another friend said softly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

The comfort of their presence broke through the walls you had built around yourself. You felt the weight of your emotions pouring out again, and the hugs grew tighter, reassuring. “We’re here for you, no matter what,” one of them whispered, gently rubbing your back as you finally let go, tears flowing freely.

After a while, they pulled back, exchanging glances that spoke of solidarity and understanding. “We need a sleepover,” one of your friends declared, a determined glint in her eyes. “Let’s put the mattresses on the floor!”

The idea sparked a flicker of joy within you, and you managed a small smile as they sprang into action. Within moments, the room was transformed; mattresses were dragged from beds and tossed onto the floor, creating a cozy nest of blankets and pillows.

Once settled, your friends nestled around you, forming a protective circle. Laughter bubbled up as they shared stories and silly jokes, their lightheartedness gradually lifting the heaviness in the air.

As the night deepened, you felt safe enough to share what you had read in Jake’s letters. Your friends listened intently, gasping at the sweet things he had said and offering support and encouragement. “He sounds amazing!” one of them exclaimed. “You deserve to be with someone who admires you like that!”

As time went on, the laughter faded into soft murmurs and sleepy giggles, and eventually, the room fell quiet. You nestled in among your friends, feeling a profound sense of belonging.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt a sense of clarity emerging from the shadows.

☆

The morning light filtered through the grand hall as you entered with your friends, a protective circle surrounding you. You could feel the stares and whispers prickling against your skin like static electricity. It was a strange sensation, having once been the center of attention for your accomplishments, only to now be the subject of hushed conversations about your recent loss.

You kept your chin up, forcing yourself to focus on the tables lined with food rather than the scrutinizing gazes. It was then that you spotted Jake at the Gryffindor table. His usual aura of energy was dimmed, replaced by a look of sadness that tugged at your heart. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for something that was beyond his control.

But as if sensing your gaze, he looked up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his face transformed. The shadow of despair faded away, replaced by the familiar brightness that made your heart flutter. He practically leaped to his feet, stumbling slightly as he rushed toward you.

Your friends parted to make way, allowing him to reach you with ease. He skidded to a halt, concern etched on his features. “Y/N? Are you… are you okay?” His voice was laced with genuine worry, and you couldn’t help but soften at the sight of him.

You offered a small, reassuring smile. “Getting better,” you replied, hoping to ease his fears.

But then you noticed a flicker of guilt cross his face, and he spoke quickly. “I’m sorry… I didn’t… I thought you would get the Snitch before me, but—”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. To your surprise, he embraced you tightly, grounding you both in the moment. “I read your letters,” you whispered in his ear, and you could feel him stiffen slightly at your admission.

When you pulled back, you saw shock reflected in his eyes, but also something deeper—relief, perhaps. “Meet me at the pitch after school,” you told him, your heart racing at the prospect.

Jake nodded, his expression softening as you turned to head toward the table where your friends were already dishing up breakfast.

As you filled your plate, thoughts of the previous match flickered through your mind. You had learned that your broom had been bewitched to ensure your loss, a cruel trick played by those who had been jealous of your success. The news had spread quickly, and while you felt relieved to know it hadn’t been your fault, the image of your shattered Firebolt lingered in your mind, a painful reminder of your previous frustration.

You glanced around the hall, catching snippets of conversations. Some students were already arguing over the validity of the match. “It was a foul! They should give them a rematch!” one voice exclaimed from across the hall. Another chimed in, “A loss is a loss. Get over it!”

But in that moment, you realized something profound: you didn’t really care about the opinions swirling around you. Not right now.

Instead, your focus remained on Jake.

After the final class of the day, anticipation coursed through you as you made your way down to the Quidditch pitch. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the grass and making the stands look almost ethereal. As you approached, you spotted Jake standing by the edge of the pitch, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, gazing off into the distance.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, and a bright smile broke across his face, illuminating the waning daylight. “Y/N!” he called out, a rush of energy infusing his voice. You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the warmth spread in your chest as you closed the distance between you.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice softer than usual. You were suddenly acutely aware of how close he was, the way the fading sunlight highlighted the contours of his face, the way his dark hair fell slightly over his forehead.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his bravado. “I thought maybe after everything, you’d want to avoid me.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Never. I needed to talk to you.”

His expression shifted, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “About what?”

You took a deep breath, the words suddenly feeling heavy on your tongue. “About us… and everything that’s happened.”

Jake’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

You both settled down on the grass, the cool blades tickling your fingers as you fidgeted with them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you wrote in your letters,” you began, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “About how you’ve admired me from afar… how you’ve always been there for me.”

Jake leaned closer, his expression earnest. “It’s true. I never thought I could feel so strongly for someone. You inspire me, Y/N. Watching you play, seeing your determination—it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Your heart raced at his words, each one wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that support until you were there,” you admitted. “When I lost that match, it felt like everything I’d worked for had crumbled. But reading your letters… it brought me back to life.”

Jake’s eyes held yours, full of understanding. “I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to fall and feel weak sometimes. But I’ll always be here to catch you.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you took a moment to collect yourself. “And I want to be there for you too. You mean so much to me, Jake. More than I ever thought I’d allow myself to feel for anyone.”

His smile widened, and the tension between you seemed to melt away. “So… what are we? I mean, I don’t want to assume, but I want you to know that I’m all in, if you are.”

Your heart raced, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. “I’m all in too,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve felt this connection between us for a while now, but I was too afraid to acknowledge it. But now… I want to explore this with you, to see where it can lead.”

Jake’s expression turned serious, the playful glimmer in his eyes replaced by deep sincerity. “Then let’s be honest with each other, no more hiding our feelings. I really like you, Y/N. Like, a lot. You’ve become such an important part of my life.”

Before you could respond, Jake leaned in closer, brushing his lips against yours softly, almost hesitantly, as if testing the waters. You melted into the kiss, feeling a rush of warmth that spread throughout your entire body. It was sweet and gentle, filled with a promise of more to come.

When you both pulled back, breathless and smiling, Jake took a moment to admire you, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, feeling emboldened. This time, he leaned in deeper, his lips moving against yours with a more confident rhythm. You responded eagerly, losing yourself in the sensation of his touch, the way he held you gently yet firmly. It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe.

When you finally broke apart again, you rested your forehead against his, both of you gasping for air. “Wow,” you murmured, your heart racing.

“Wow indeed,” Jake replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I could get used to this.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from your chest, feeling lighter than you had in days. “Me too.”

“Then let’s make a deal,” he said, his voice suddenly serious again. “No more holding back. We face everything together, starting from now. Whether it’s Quidditch, school, or whatever else life throws at us. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agreed, your heart swelling with affection and excitement.

Jake stood up, extending his hand to help you rise from the grass. You took it, feeling the warmth of his grip envelop your fingers, and he pulled you to your feet with a gentle tug. “I still think I owe you a Butterbeer, don’t I?” he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he started walking alongside you.

“You do,” you replied, smiling back at him, warmth flooding your cheeks as you felt the lingering thrill of your earlier conversation.

As you walked back toward the castle, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a golden glow over everything. Jake leaned closer, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. The gesture was sweet and tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into him slightly, relishing the warmth of his presence.

“So, what’s next for you, Quidditch superstar?” he asked, his tone teasing yet sincere.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I still have to get back to practicing. I need to make sure I’m ready for the next match, no matter what broom I’m on.”

Jake nodded, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. “You know I’ll be there to support you, right? And I’ll help you however I can. If you need a practice partner or someone to distract you while you train, I’m your guy.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, feeling a rush of gratitude. “It means a lot to me that you’re so supportive.”

“Of course! You’re not just a teammate; you’re my… well, I guess you’re my girlfriend now?” He looked at you, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

You beamed at him, feeling your heart flutter. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Perfect,” he replied, a broad smile breaking across his face. “Then let’s celebrate with that Butterbeer!”

As you and Jake made your way back to the castle, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but notice the mixed reactions from your fellow students. Some people smiled warmly at you, while others congratulated Jake with slaps on the back. A few even slipped coins to each other, clearly settling bets about the two of you ending up together. The sight made you chuckle inwardly; the school was always buzzing with gossip, but this felt oddly charming.

Just then, a chorus of voices began to rise up from the crowd. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they chanted, and your heart raced at the unexpected attention. You glanced at Jake, who looked equally amused and a bit bashful.

“Should we?” you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Jake shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Why not? Let’s give them a show.”

With a sudden burst of confidence, you pulled him down by his tie, closing the distance between you. You pressed your lips against his, and he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his hands finding your waist. The warmth of the moment enveloped you both, and the crowd erupted into cheers, whoops, and whistles.

“Only befitting the two fastest seekers ended up together!” someone shouted, and the laughter and applause filled the air around you.

You pulled back slightly, breathless and grinning, your cheeks flushed. Jake’s eyes sparkled with delight, and you could see the pride in his expression. “I think we just gave them what they wanted,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“Guess we did!” you replied, still feeling the electricity of the kiss.

☆

You had never truly cared for Quidditch. It was just a sport to you. But now, sitting with your fingers intertwined with Jake’s, you began to rethink your earlier stance.

Cause it had brought you Jake.

The way he had defended you in the hallway, how he had always been there for you during your darkest moments, and the way his smile lit up a room had all stemmed from the Quidditch pitch.

“Hey,” Jake said, nudging you with his shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. “You okay? You look lost in thought.”

You smiled at him, warmth flooding your chest. “I was just thinking about how I never really cared for Quidditch until now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips. “Oh really? And what brought about this epiphany?”

“Quidditch is the reason I found you,” you replied softly, your gaze locking onto his.

Jake’s expression softened, and you could see the genuine surprise in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “I never realized how much it connected us, how much it means to me now because of you.”

His smile widened, and you felt your heart flutter as he squeezed your hand tighter. “You’re the best thing to come out of this whole Quidditch mess. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Jake said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll teach you to love the game if you promise to be there for me every match.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Deal."

#enhypen fic #enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen imagines #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #jake sim #jake enhypen #fanfiction #sim jake x you #sim jaeyun #sim jake #enhypen x reader #enha #jake angst #jake fluff #jake fanfic #hogwarts au #fanfic

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anothertimdrakestan · 1 year ago

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Batboys Toxic Traits Headcanons

because no one is perfect, i wanted to get a little dirty with it and imagine what the boys are like when they're a little... too obsessed with you.

tw for romanticizing possessive, obsessive, jealous, aggressive actions haha xoxo

Jason Todd

- scary dog privileges wherever you go with jace, but he is ALL bite with one and only one warning bark.

- when a hand that isn't his brushes your thigh in a club, fingers get broken. when a cat caller thinks his compliment just has to be said to you, he most likely won't be able to speak again for weeks. And god forbid any villain try to use you as bait for jason, they've all learned if they value their life to never touch you. He's all for justice not vengeance until anyone tries to mess with you, then those words always get mixed up in his head.

- sometimes you cant even complain about people, they end up getting randomly harassed by a certain someone until they just move town

- jason is adamant as long as he's alive there won't be a problem of yours he can't solve with a little violence

- your biggest problem is that he struggles to let you have guy friends, obviously the ones he knows especially fellow heroes are more than fine, but he's been known to burst blood vessels when he sees you close and person with men he's never met

- he's proud of it too: "let another man try and touch y/n, it's been a slow night for me." or "i just don't get why you need him as a friend when you have me, myself, and i"

Tim Drake

- tim gets... obsessive.

- he tends to fall hard but with you he brought the house down with him

- before you were officially his he had hacked every security camera in the city to have eyes on you at any given moment

- both for your safety and his own maniacal flirting strategy: you admire shoes but frown at the price tag? tim's buying you the matching bag to go with the shoes he bought the second you looked at them.

- before you knew how insanely in love with you he was, you truly thought he was a mind reader

- well he kind of was, seeing as he scrolled through your search history every night to know which talking points to bring up with you

- once you finally fell for him and set some stronger boundaries he still occasionally found himself double checking your location when you weren't by his side, or lazily purchasing every item on your pinterest boards, he just can't help but dote on you

Damian Wayne

- damian doesn't really get close to people, but as always you were his exception

- however, this means his list of people to hang out with is extremely short, and he saw no problem in wanting to be around you wherever you went whenever he could

- like a kind of tall, dark, and brooding puppy, he quietly followed you everywhere, and when you strictly told him he couldn't follow along, you always noticed a perched shadow just a few building away

- eventually you got used to rolling over to damian coolly watching you sleep or patiently waiting to pick you up from your classes/job, happy just to walk you to your car

- just like jason, damian had a brutal and heartless style of problem-solving when it came to anyone giving you trouble

- too often you found yourself standing in between his rage a massive mistake whether it was nearly assaulting a friend of yours who tried to ask you out or threatening to buy out your entire workplace when you didn't get the promotion you wanted

- forever cooling his rage was worth having his adoration though, and you were happy to have your overbearing shadow follow you throughout your days

Dick Grayson

- for such a bubbly leader, dick often struggled with communication

- always used to bearing his problems alone youd spent too many nights tracking down your own boyfriend only to beg him to tell you what's wrong

- he never understood that you didn't always want to solve his problems, but hold his sadness or hurt with him

- it was the worst when he was upset with you, whether it was jealously or insecurity that crept into his mind

- he'd take off in a rush hoping you wouldn't notice but you always did, either hunting him down or simply waiting with open arms for him to come home

- it would take years to teach your traveling-circus-raised boyfriend that you weren't going anywhere, ever.

- but, this made for many heartfelt nights where he held you and promised you the world, as if you'd opened him up in a way no one else could, pulling forward the most magical and loving side of your sweet boy

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andvys · 8 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, a lot of fluff, alcohol consumption, clingy!reader, drunk!reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve gets to know a side of you, you have never shown him before, and he takes the final step towards realization.

Word count: 10k+

Author’s note: SO @hellfire--cult and I have been waiting for this chapter (and especially for the next one). I'm so happy that we're finally here, and as always I'm giving a special shoutout to my lovely Roe, who not only helped with ideas but also wrote the whole last paragraph, the drive home and all the fluff at Steve's house. Give her all the love she deserves ♡ ilysm roe thank youuuu

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Red, white and blue colors flash before your eyes, everywhere you look as you walk through the grocery store with Max. You can’t even bear to look at the holiday themed snacks and decorations on the shelves. All week, people have been preparing for a holiday, you used to love, now it’s nothing but a reminder of what you lost – of what Max lost.

You avoided going to Big Buy’s all week, for this exact reason.

But now you were the one who offered to go inside, when Eddie was the one who wanted to get the pre-drinks, you don’t even know why you did it, maybe it was to get away from Dustin’s and Lucas’s banter, or maybe you just wanted to prepare yourself for something much bigger.

The Fun Fair takes place this year, just as it did, last year. And you friends wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July there. You don’t mind, you really don’t, but every place you turn today, reminds you of a dear friend you lost.

Max walks beside you quietly. She looks around with heavy eyes and tension in her shoulders, she’s fidgeting with the bracelet that Lucas gifted to her, and keeps her eyes on the ground.

You didn’t say anything yet, not wanting to trigger any more sadness. You’re surprised that she even offered to go inside with you, she could’ve waited and stayed with the guys, but she didn’t.

“This day sucks.”

These are the first words she spoke out loud, ever since you stepped inside the store.

“Yeah,” you mumble, quietly, not knowing what to say, because all you can think about is Billy, and how he died on this exact day, one year ago, when you were still so unaware of the dark truth that lied beneath this town, when you thought that it was the fire that killed him and not one of Vecna’s creatures.

You weren’t even there, but thinking about it makes you sick and angry. You can’t even imagine what Max must’ve felt like that night. Or what she is feeling now.

When you stop in the drink aisle, you look around for the beer Eddie asked for, but instead your eyes fall on the one brand that Billy always used to buy. Sometimes he’d bring a six pack over and leave some cans in your fridge for some other time, you are pretty sure that there are still two leftover cans hidden behind all the other drinks in your fridge.

A sigh falls from your lips, “yeah, it does.”

She glances at you, sadness settling into her features, when she sees the way your eyes fill with grief.

“Billy would roll his eyes at us, right now,” she mumbles, trying to crack a joke.

A small chuckle escapes you, and you turn to look at her with a weak smile on your face, “yes, he would.”

She purses her lips as she looks at the beer, “are you gonna let me drink tonight?”

You scrunch your nose, and shake your head, “are you crazy?” You scoff, as you step forward and reach for the beers, Eddie asked for, and the ones Billy would have gotten for himself. “How about you turn twenty one first, and then I’ll let you drink.”

Max laughs at you and rolls her eyes.

“You’re not even twenty one, and you’re drinking – oh! And buying the beers with a fake ID probably!”

“Shush,” you wave your hand at her when an employee walks past you, giving you both a weird look.

“I’m very close to twenty one,” you whisper.

“You’re not even twenty yet–”

“I’m turning twenty, this year. Now stop arguing with me, and get yourself a coke or something.”

Max groans at you, “fine,” she murmurs as she follows you, “why are you even getting any drinks now when you can buy some at the Fair?”

“I’m pretty sure that Eddie doesn’t want to buy any of those overpriced drinks that taste like absolute shit.”

She snorts, “he shouldn’t even be drinking, he’s driving.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll walk you all home if he gets drunk.”

Her jaw drops, and annoyance flashes in her eyes, “are you serious–”

You laugh at the look on her face, shaking your head at her, “I’m just kidding, when does Eddie ever get drunk?” You chuckle, “he’ll have one beer tops, no more, he’ll sober up till then, and if not then uh… Steve will drive you home.”

“Okay,” she sighs, as the momentarily amusement leaves her face again, and the sadness begins to sink back in, making you much more aware of your own.

“Hey, Max?”

She turns back to you, and raises her eyebrows in question.

“If you feel overwhelmed at some point, you can find me and we can leave, at any time, okay?”

She smiles a little and nods her head.

“Okay,” she whispers, “same goes for you, if you want to leave, I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” you smile at her, “now let’s go pay for these and get out of here,” you mumble as you gesture to the beer in your hands.

You feel relief rushing through you once you are out of the busy store again. The golden evening sun hits your skin, still blessing it with warmth, the air around you smells like summer, like fresh cut grass, hot pavement and honeysuckle. The wind kisses your skin and blows through your hair, it’s warm yet refreshing, it feels nice.

“Did you buy that for me?” Dustin grins at you, pointing at the beers when you get into the passenger seat.

Eddie glares at him through the rearview mirror.

“Very funny, Dusty Bun.”

Lucas laughs at the nickname, nudging his shoulder against Dustin’s, “Dusty Bun,” he cackles, wiggling his brows.

“Shut up, dude.”

“You kids are too young to even think about trying beer,” you glare at the three teens in the back, most specifically at Lucas, who’s had some before.

His smile falls a little, and he clears his throat, “that was one time.”

“Yeah, it better stay that way,” you point at him.

Max snorts at the glare on your face.

“Yes, mom.”

Eddie and Dustin chuckle.

Your jaw drops, and you furrow your brows at the teen who is squished between Max and Dustin.

“You act like a mom sometimes!” Lucas raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging at you.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yeah, you do, you’re mama bear,” Eddie snorts, making Dustin laugh louder.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling us with your grumpy act.”

You squint your eyes at the curly head, who is grinning happily at you.

“Just accept it, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re the mom of the group.”

“No, I only joined this group a few months back, there has to be a different mom–”

“Oh no, we only had single dad Steve,” Lucas giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “but we got a mom and a dad now, so…”

The smug look on his face, and the teasing in his eyes, isn’t exactly hard to miss. You know exactly what he is going at, what he has been going at for the past few months now.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he somehow knows about your feelings for Steve, if he always knew about them, or if he is simply just teasing and still in the dark about everything.

You are good at hiding your feelings, you always have been, no one ever found out about your feelings for Steve unless you wanted them to, but if there is someone who you wouldn’t underestimate, then it’s definitely Lucas, he is too smart for his own good, sometimes.

Eddie snorts beside you, mumbling, “mommy and daddy.”

You elbow him, into his side, earning a groan from him.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Eddie grumbles as he shoots you a glare, and presses his hand against his stomach.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Edward.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“Who is Eddie then?” Dustin asks.

“He’s the cool uncle,” Lucas shrugs.

“Damn right, now stop yapping,” Eddie mumbles as he takes a look over his shoulder, “are you ready to throw up Hot Dogs after going on the roller coaster?”

All three of them groan in disgust, scrunching up their faces, making him laugh.

You shake your head at him when he starts laughing.

“You’re such a menace.”

Eddie only chuckles at you, he starts the car and turns up the music, and he rolls down the windows before he speeds out of the parking lot.

You embrace the moments of peace before the chaos of the fair hits you, screaming children, crowds of people, and the overwhelming smell of food on every corner are something you are not looking forward to despite the hollowness in your stomach. You couldn’t get anything down the past few days, you nearly threw up this morning when you walked into the diner with Eddie, and the smell of Bacon hit you.

The wind weaves through your hair as Eddie drives down the main road.

The sound of music distracts you from your sad thoughts.

The thought of him, filling your heart with life and your soul with hope.

He grounds you in your worst moments, and he doesn’t even know it.

The fairground is alive with music and screaming children, the sound of the roller coasters moving, conversations and laughter from every corner. The dazzling lights are a stark contrast against the dark sky, the smell of food wafts through the air.

Robin and Vickie are standing next to Steve, giggling about something as they sip on their mixed beers. He is looking around, trying to catch sight of you, but you are nowhere to be found, and he is beginning to worry.

Max and El had dragged you away for a roller coaster ride, but that was over an hour ago, and he hasn’t seen you ever since.

Max had warned him before, when she reminded him of what this day means to you, of what happened a year back, of what and who you had lost.

Steve doesn’t know how you deal with grief, how you feel on these kinds of days, there are too many of them in your life. He doesn’t know how you cope, he wishes that he could be there for you and give you a shoulder to lean on – but you aren’t very good at showing your true feelings or emotions, he only saw a glimpse of the truth that you hide behind those high walls you built around yourself and he doubts that you would come to him for comfort.

A dreadful feeling is gnawing in his chest the more time passes without you being seen.

“Hey Dingus, we’re going on the Ferris Wheel,” Robin nudges his shoulder, grinning at him.

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from the crowds, he nods at his best friend.

“Sure, have fun.”

Robin furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of his frown, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs and plasters a smile on his face, “go and have fun with your girl.”

She hesitates, her smile becoming weaker now, “you should go find Eddie or Dustin.”

“Yeah, I will, in a second.”

“Your feet are not glued to the ground are they?” Vickie asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve been stuck in this spot for like thirty minutes now!” Robin exclaims as she points her ringed finger at him, eyeing the way he is leaning against the wall with tension in his body.

Steve chuckles, and brings his hand up to the side of his face, cupping his cheek for a moment, “I’m just looking out for the kids.”

Robin snorts, though she gives him a suspicious look.

“Ah, but they’re not around,” she says, tilting her head as she gestures to all the strangers that surround the field, instead of the teens.

“I told them I’d be here if they needed anything,” he shrugs and waves his hand at her, “now go and have your kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

Robin slaps his shoulder, her cheeks taking on a deep red color, as Vickie giggles behind her.

He chuckles at her, wiggling his brows and smirking at his best friend.

Robin rolls her eyes and turns away from him, she offers her hand out to the redhead, who reaches for it, though with a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her lips.

“See you later, Dingus,” Robin waves at Steve, not giving him the chance to respond before she drags her girl away and pushes through the crowds with her.

Steve’s eyes follow them until he can no longer see them as they get lost in the midst of the chaos. Laughing children run around, chasing each other, a group of teenage boys carrying drinks they shouldn’t be allowed to buy, two young women walk past him, giggling amongst themselves as they eye him with interest in their eyes, Steve pays no mind to them, not even bothering to spare them a look despite the very obvious glances he is getting, even as they had already passed him.

His eyes follow a different sight and his ears perk up at the sound of giggles that sound like yours, his lips twitch at the sound and his heart flutters wildly in his chest.

He pushes himself off the tree he is leaning against and turns to look around. Steve’s hazel eyes soften the moment he finally sees you.

You are standing in a circle with Eddie and his bandmates who all keep pestering you over something. Eddie leans closer to you and pinches your cheek, while Gareth jumps around you like some hyper puppy, his curls bouncing and his face flickering with amusement when you keep waving your hand at him.

Steve smiles at the giggle that falls from your lips when Eddie swats your hand away after you ruffle his curls.

He watches the way your lips move as you stare at him with a smug look on your face, saying something to him that makes him clutch his chest and gasp dramatically.

Steve shakes his head as the metalhead lunges at you and you squeal in surprise before you turn around and run off with a giggle, bolting into the crowd with Eddie and Gareth hot on your heels, while Jeff and Grant follow the three of you slowly, shaking their heads in amusement.

Surprise lingers inside of him, Steve had never seen you so playful before, he had never witnessed you letting loose and having genuine fun. You are always on guard, always hiding away behind your brooding act that is slowly becoming less and less visible.

Something has changed, something in your behavior has shifted in the past few weeks. You seem happier, you seem to smile more, you seem to be kinder to the people around you.

Your walls are still up, but the foundation has begun to crumble, just like his did.

You let him see a glimpse of something he never thought was even there, he saw your vulnerable side and your soft one, he saw how lovingly you treated your baby niece, he saw how sweet and gentle you could be – he saw the real you and it only made him weaker than ever before.

There was always a part of him that left him feeling weak whenever he was with you – it wasn’t a bad kind of weak, but it was one that scared him.

It doesn’t scare him anymore.

He embraces the weakness now.

Something, someone crashes into his chest, making him stumble back from the force, when he looks down, he finds you staring up at him, with your arms now wrapped around his waist and a softened look in your eyes as a smile rests on your lips. The dazzling, colorful lights from the rollercoaster and the ferris wheel only brighten the color of your eyes, making him get lost in them so easily.

He feels your arms around his torso, and your hands on his back, your chest is now pressed against his and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the look in your eyes is a dreamy one as they look into his.

The warmth in his chest blooms, the smile on his lips grows bigger, something in his stomach flutters when you stand on your tippy toes and remind him of the height difference between the two of you.

“Hi Stevie,” you say softly.

He would be lying if he said, he isn’t caught off guard by the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes, by your arms that are wrapped around him and your body that is pressed against his, so tightly and intimately, despite all the eyes that could see.

“Hi Blondie,” he smiles as he slowly wraps his arms around you and acts on his feelings, when he brings you closer.

The smell of your perfume is intoxicating and it does nothing to weaken the fluttering in his stomach. You smell like the cotton candy that you had shared with Max earlier and the beer you probably had been drinking all night, which is surprising, considering how much you despise the bitter taste of beer.

“I missed you.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and his eyebrows shoot up, the fluttering in his stomach now growing even stronger than before.

You woke up in each other's arms this morning, you even sat at the kitchen table and drank your morning coffee together before you left to meet up with Eddie.

But you missed him.

You missed him, like he missed you.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe not – he hopes not.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

You nod, your eyes flicker to his lips, before they move back up, to meet his.

“I missed you too, Blondie.”

He nearly crumbles when your smile grows even bigger and a blush creeps up on your face, a breathy, small giggle falls from your lips. And then, you surprise him once again, when you bury your face in his chest and hug him tightly.

His heart rate picks up and his breathing becomes heavy from all the emotions inside of him.

He certainly never met this side of you before,and he never even knew that you could become much softer than what he had already seen of you.

Without looking around to make sure that you are away from prying eyes, he wraps his arms tighter around you, and hugs you in a way he wanted to all night.

Confusion, adoration and happiness floods through him, all at once.

Here he thought that this day would bring out some darkness in you, that you would hide in a corner and try to drink away your sorrows but instead the alcohol in your system brought something else out in you.

As Steve holds you in the middle of the fairground and you slide your palm over his chest, resting your hand above the place where his heart beats strongly, he feels himself falling into your embrace, losing all his vision of the people and the things before him, losing all the sounds around him, no longer feeling the ground beneath his feet – all he sees is you, all he hears is the beating of his own heart, all he feels is you, only you.

And as though, it didn’t hit him hard enough already, you place your chin on his chest and you tilt your head up to look at him, giving him a sweet smile, “kissy?” You ask, puckering your lips.

He could melt into a puddle, right then and there.

Despite not wanting to, he lets his eyes roam the space around you, making sure that none of your friends are watching, before he leans in to place a kiss on your lips – one that is way too quick for your liking, the pout that follows your puckered lips makes his heart burst.

You look at him with literal puppy eyes, glinting with a pleading look.

He almost doesn’t recognize you – you are not the Blondie that he saw a few hours back, but he is not complaining in the slightest, he really likes this side of you.

Cupping your cheeks, he rests his large palms against your skin, his fingertips getting lost in your hair as he leans down to kiss you again, smacking his lips against yours, he delivers a loud kiss, one that makes you giggle when he pulls away again and looks down at you with a lazy smile on his face.

“How much did you drink?” Steve asks, chuckling when you keep staring at him with a big smile.

“Just a little bit,” you slur, and raise your hand to show him as you furrow your brows and hold your thumb and pointer finger into an L shape, “so much.”

He laughs as he tucks your hair behind your ears, “alright.”

“I want something else now.”

“What, more alcohol?” Steve asks, raising his brows.

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose in a way that makes him smile as he looks at you adoringly.

“No, I think I had too much already.”

“Yeah, I think so too, honey,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily, almost normal, “you don’t feel sick, do you?”

“No, just thirsty.”

“Alright, let’s get you something to drink then,” he says, unable to stop smiling, when you look at him this way. He moves his hands away from your face and he reaches for your hand, sliding his palm against your own, he entwines his fingers with yours, and you welcome his action, happily.

Steve isn’t drunk, he didn’t have a single sip of alcohol this evening, not a single drag of Argyle’s joint and yet, he feels as though he is under the influence of something strong, his mind is in a haze, that careless and freeing feeling lingers in his chest, happiness and giddiness rushes through him and he feels as though he is floating with you.

He can’t even find it in himself to care if anyone sees him with you like this – smiling at each other, hugging and kissing one another, holding hands, and acting like a couple. He knows your friends are here, but Steve just doesn’t give a damn – not even when Heidi walks past him with her friends and they all look at you weirdly.

He hears the hushed whispers, he sees the squinted eyes as they look you up and down and their eyes fall on your entwined fingers. He pays no mind to the way they look at him, but irritation sparks at him when they keep staring at you. He can see the judgment, and the jealousy, it’s so obvious.

Steve holds back the eyeroll and he grasps your hand tighter as he begins to drag you away from the prying eyes and the whispers of envy. He would rather kiss you and flip them off but he cannot risk this, he can’t risk you two getting caught. Rumors would circulate, words would get twisted and it would only be a matter of time until all your friends would find out.

And he isn’t ready to get caught, he isn’t ready to lose this, to lose you.

He glances down at you, seeing the smile that didn’t leave your face just yet. You are unaware to all the eyes on you, to the looks you were given, you are still holding onto his hand as tight as before, stepping closer to him when a group of boys rush past you.

You turn to him and raise your head to glance at him, shooting him a sweet smile as you squeeze his hand, causing his heart to flutter and his smile to reappear.

You are so cute like this.

He pulls you closer and shields you from anyone who brushes past you as you walk through the crowd together, getting lost in the chaotic field, where the music is louder and the people are too.

Steve looks around, trying to catch sight of the teens or Eddie and his bandmates but he only sees the town people that he couldn’t care less about while you follow him like some lost puppy, clinging to his side and looking up with big eyes, every few seconds or so.

You both get in line at the drink stall, your hands are still joined, fingers entwined and arms still pressed together. You stumble into him, prompting him to hold you a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” you slur as you reach your free hand up to grab his arm.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles at you, adoring you a little more and more as the seconds pass.

You are drunk – not tipsy, not slightly drunk, no, you are genuinely and definitely drunk. And as he stands here with you, eying you closely and watching the way you keep looking up at him with your widened pupils and your lazy smiles, he realizes that he had never actually witnessed you being drunk – high and tipsy? Sure. But never drunk.

“Why’d you drink so much, Blondie?”

“I didn’t even drink that much,” you shrug, “I’m just not used to drinking that beer.”

Steve raises his brows, knowing how much you despise the taste of regular beer. You only drink it when it’s mixed with something.

“What kind of beer?”

You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes flash with confusion, you seemingly can’t remember the name of it.

You look down and your eyes widen when you find a discarded can on the grass, you point your finger at it, “that one.”

Steve’s eyes follow your gaze and the direction your finger is pointing at, he raises his eyebrows again.

“You don’t even like beer that much,” he mumbles and turns back to you.

“Billy did,” you shrug.

Oh.

His features relax again and his shoulders slump a little, realization flickers in his eyes.

You didn’t drink for fun, you were trying to forget about the sadness and the grief that must’ve lingered all day.

He is surprised that the alcohol didn’t have a negative effect on you. Drinking while feeling sad can worsen those emotions, the alcohol can transform them into a darker sadness or even into anger and despair.

But you seem fine, happy even.

If only he knew that he is the reason for it.

“The fireworks are about to start,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“Do you want to watch them with me?”

His heart skips a beat at the softness in your voice, at the hopeful look in your eyes and the sweet smile on your lips.

Of course he does.

“Yeah,” he smiles, nodding. “I’d love to.”

Your eyes crinkle as you beam at him, stealing his breath away with simple reactions like these.

Steve is not even sure if anyone had ever looked at him this way, no one has ever even made him feel this way, no one had ever stolen his breath away just from simply looking at him the way you do now.

You take him by surprise when you stand on your tippy toes and lean closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess.

Your giggle sounds like music to his ears, your touch drives him crazy as you squeeze yourself against him and lay your head on his chest as your arms come around his torso again.

He could fall to his knees right here, right now.

Is this the real you?

Is this the side you’ve been hiding from the world?

Is this the way you would have always been with him, had you not experienced so much loss and pain?

Steve wraps his arms around you, unable to hold back from showing and giving you the affection that you are blessing him with in this moment, even when the anxiety of getting caught still lingers.

He cups your cheeks and leans closer to your ear, “where do you wanna watch the fireworks?”

“Maybe the woods? Or the big field?” You ask as you look at him with big eyes, “so we can be away from all these annoying people?”

He laughs when you gesture to the loud fairground visitors.

The lights that flicker around you kiss your beautiful face and your skin that he wants to feel on his at any time, your lips that always look so inviting, you look so delicate, so soft, so gorgeous, you look like someone that could ruin his life and right in this moment, he doesn’t even mind it, he would let you.

It hits him, in this second, it hits him just how bad he’s got it for you.

Steve Harrington is down bad.

Down bad to a point in which he almost calls you ‘my girl’ when he is about to order your drink, he catches himself just in time but he can’t hide the blush that creeps up on his face.

You don’t seem to notice though, you swing your joined hands back and forth and look around with a contentment in your relaxed features.

He hands you the ice cold pepsi after placing the ten dollar bill on the small desk, telling the teen behind the counter to keep the change.

“That was nice of you,” you say as you both start walking away from the drink stall and from the crowds.

“What, letting him keep the change?”

You nod and let go of his hand to open your can.

“Poor guy has to work on a holiday, he should get a good tip,” Steve shrugs, already missing the feeling of your hand in his, he raises his arm and wraps it around your shoulder instead, pulling you closer against him.

Your lips twitch at that, a smile forms on your face.

“Still, that was nice of you, you’re a nice guy,” you giggle.

“Well, I gotta make up for all the times I wasn’t a nice guy.”

You don’t say anything to that, you can’t. Steve doesn’t even blame you, you witnessed him in his worst moments, you were his target, more than once.

You shot back at him but your words weren’t hurtful, your insults and your jabs were never personal. You got under his skin, but not in the way he got under yours.

He truly wasn’t a nice guy to you and that might be one of his biggest regrets. He was mean, awful even and now as he looks at you, at the cute frown on your face as you pop the can, at the way you take a sip of your favorite drink and smile afterwards, he can’t understand how he could ever treat you so unkindly, how he didn’t see you before.

You might’ve been rough, snarky and unapproachable but there was never denying of how beautiful you are, how beautiful you have always been.

How come he never asked you out?

He might’ve never seen this side of you before and he only ever knew one side of you, but your snarkiness wouldn’t have kept King Steve away from you, if anything, your little act should’ve made him more intrigued.

And now he can’t help but wonder what things would have been like had he not treated you the way he did, had he asked you out and fought for a chance with you.

Could’ve things been different then?

Would you have fallen in love with him?

Would you have prevented the heartbreak that Nancy had cursed him with two years ago?

The pain from his last relationship no longer matters to Steve, not since you, but this question still lingers.

“This spot is perfect.”

You pull him out of the past and back into the presence with a tug on his hand.

Steve looks around, you are no longer surrounded by people, instead it’s the trees that are around you and him, you’re at the edge of the forest, not far enough to drown at the music and the chatter but quiet enough to hear your voice clearer now, it’s much darker out here but he can still see you well enough.

You close your eyes and drink your pepsi, completely unaware of his unwavering glances. A sigh leaves your lips and you place the now half full can on the ground before you step closer to him and reach for his hand again, taking a look at the watch around his wrist, you squint your eyes and lean down closer, “it’s about to start any minute.”

He smiles at you, nodding his head slowly, “yeah.”

Steve feels the urge to pull you tight against him, to hold you and kiss you like he never did before.

You look up and meet his eyes when you notice his staring, a smile appears on your lips, “what?” You ask with a soft giggle.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “nothing.”

You bite your lip and he wants nothing more than to grab your face and kiss you breathless.

You raise your eyebrows at him and stare back at him, stumbling over air as you try to take a step closer to him, making you both chuckle at your drunken clumsiness, your hand falls against his body, while he grabs your waist, steadying you on your own feet, “whoa, easy tiger.”

You giggle at the nickname, making his own smile widen.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

You don’t even deny it, in fact, you don’t even answer the question as you keep staring up at him, keeping your hands against his chest as your eyes flicker from the spitcurl that hangs over his forehead, his eyes and his lips.

Steve’s stomach flutters just the way his heart does, his skin tingles beneath from your touches, the look in your eyes makes him want to kiss you even more.

“You’re feeling okay though, right?” He whispers as he slowly brings his hand up to the side of your face and he cups your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m okay now,” you nod, leaning into his touch, “I-I just… I miss him.”

Steve might never understand the friendship you had with Billy, he only knew the ugly sides of him but you knew more, you saw deeper, you were his friend – something Steve didn’t even know Billy had, he was sure the guy didn’t even know what the term ‘friendship’ even meant.

“And that’s okay, Blondie,” he says, giving you a sad smile, “it’s okay to miss people and to grieve for them.”

Tears well up in your eyes and your lips curl downwards.

Steve didn’t mean for this to happen, he didn’t mean to make you cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling you closer as he catches the first tear with his thumb, “it’s okay, honey.”

You sniffle and roll your eyes at yourself, “he would punch me in the face for crying,” you joke.

Steve can’t help but laugh.

“And he’d make fun of me for being with you, he would like–” you pause and lean in to peck his lips, “he would smack my head if I did that in front of him!” You say with a giggle, despite the tears that still keep falling.

His cheeks heat up at the kiss, the need for more growing strong in his chest.

“He really didn’t like me, huh?”

“Not one fucking bit, Stevie,” you chuckle sadly.

Steve wonders how things would be if he was still here, would this thing between you even work out?

Would Billy keep you away from him?

“But nothing could take me away from you, he’d just have to suck it up,” you whisper as you peck his lips again, shutting down the worries in his head.

He almost feels his pulse in his throat as his heart beats faster, your words doing little to calm the beating of his heart.

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as all the other words freeze in his brain.

You nod as you look into his eyes deeply, refusing to break eye contact. He notices the way your chest starts moving faster as your breathing gets heavier, he sees the way your smile transforms into a nervous frown and your throat bobs as you try to come up with words.

His breath hitches in his throat when you whisper his name shakily.

“I–”

Whatever you were about to say gets lost in the wind as the loud explosion in the sky cuts you off and tears your attention away from him. The colors pop in the sky, illuminating the darkened space around you both.

You tilt your head to watch the lights that reflect in your eyes, the smile you wore before makes its way back into your pretty face, the tension in your body disappears and you relax into him again.

But while your drunken mind gets distracted by all of this so easily, Steve only really sees you. He doesn’t look up just yet, he lets himself admire you for a moment.

Your eyes light up as they meet his for a brief second, flashing with awe.

His heart could jump out of his chest from how hard it’s beating, his knees could give out any moment now.

“Look!” You beam at him as you point your finger at the blue colors.

His gaze follows yours but it returns to your face so quickly, something about you pulls him in, a magnet, a string, a strong connection – he can’t identify it yet, but he feels like his whole being yearns for you and not just sexually.

He wants to keep doing this, he wants to keep holding your hand, he wants to keep hugging you, he wants to keep spending time with you like this, he wants to stand under the night sky with you, and he especially wants to do this.

“Hey,” he whispers as he cups your cheeks with both hands, pulling your attention back to him.

You greet him with an adoring smile, “hi,” you whisper.

Steve caresses your cheek, he is starting to lean in closer, fading out the colors that flash in his peripheral vision, before his lips can even touch yours, you throw your arms around his neck and beat him to it, pressing your lips against his over and over again before you move on to both of his cheeks and even the tip of his nose as you start showering him in kisses, catching him off guard completely.

Steve giggles in surprise, his cheeks match the colors that lighten up the sky as they glow red.

And then, you finally pull him into a longer kiss.

You close your eyes and he does too, your lips start moving slowly, passionately. You rest your hands on his neck and steal his breath away by deepening the kiss as you slip your tongue into his mouth and let him have a taste of your sweetness, the cotton candy and the pepsi still linger on your lips.

Your noses bump into each other and you break the kiss with a giggle, giving him a sweet smile before you lean back in again, kissing and continuing to steal his breath away, not knowing what you have just done to his poor heart, how much life, how much hope you have filled it with.

A smile, a giggle, a simple kiss with you is all it takes for all the defense around him to crumble into dust.

Something he thought he lost seeps back into his heart, something he thought that stayed in the past and to never be touched again blooms in him.

Everything inside of him screams in joy, his stomach doing somersaults, his skin prickling from the excitement, his lips tugging into a smile even through the kiss that he deepens more and more.

This kiss is different from all the other ones you have shared before, this one means something, this one won’t lead to you tearing each other’s clothes off. No, this is just a kiss.

A kiss that means everything.

A kiss that changes everything.

You stole his breath completely and made it your own, you stole his heart, his soul, his whole being.

And the noise of the fireworks, the sparks igniting from them, match those in Steve's heart. Just exploding, bursting, burning him from inside out.

And he embraces the feeling fully.

He wants more of this, more of you.

He wants to cross a line, he wants you in a whole new way and he is no longer ashamed to admit it to himself.

It feels like forever as you stand there beneath the sparkling sky, kissing and staying in each other’s embrace as you both savor every second of this moment, only pulling away to catch your breaths before you lean back in for more.

The fireworks stop, but only those in the sky.

Your lips are still moving with each other, your tongues still mingling together, whines and whimpers fall from you – tonight, they don’t fill him with lust and need, no, tonight they fill him with adoration.

Your arms tighten around his neck, your nose is flush against his as you refuse to break the kiss but the lack of air makes it impossible and it forces you away from him, though you don’t pull away too far, only enough to catch your breath.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, slowly opening his eyes to look into yours, his heart flutters yet again when he sees how wide your eyes are, how they flicker with deep emotions.

Unable to hold back, he leans in to peck your puffy lips one more time.

“Steve,” you whisper as your hands begin to slip from his shoulders to his chest.

“Yes?”

“Can I be with you tonight?”

He furrows his brows at your question, he wants you to be with him tonight, he wants you with him every night.

“Of course, Blondie.”

You smile at him though it’s a weak one and it makes him frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, scrunching your nose.

“Are you feeling sick?” He asks, tilting your head up.

You shake your head again, “just really tired.”

Your words are still slurred, the alcohol still deep in your system.

“Let’s go home then.”

“Do you want to go?” You ask, looking at him with a cute frown on your face as you tilt your head to the side, “I-I can still wait if you want to stay here longer.”

Steve smiles at you, shaking his head, “no, I want to go home with you.”

The smile on your lips replaces the frown.

He brushes his thumb against your bottom lip and stares at you adoringly.

“Come on, we should tell Eddie.”

You pick up your discarded drink before you slide your fingers through his, intertwining your fingers with his again.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

You follow him without a single word, walking beside him quietly as you make your way out of the woods and back into the fair where the lights are bright and he can see you better now.

It’s still just as crowded as it was before and just as loud.

Steve keeps you close, glancing at you, he notices the squinted eyes and how displeased you look by all the noises and the people around you.

He holds your hand tighter, giving it another reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t wait to go to sleep,” you mumble, taking the last few sips of your soda before you throw it into the trashcan you pass by. You wrap your free hand around his bicep and squish your cheek against it.

Steve’s smile widens, his eyes glint with nothing but fondness.

“There you are!”

Steve turns to find Eddie walking towards you both, throwing his hands up with a worried look on his face that slowly begins to disappear when he realizes that you have been with him all this time, though his eyebrows pull together when he sees your entwined hands and the closeness between you.

Steve expects you to run away from him and into your best friend’s arms, but you don’t, you stick to his side.

“Hi Eddie!” You mumble lazily as a smile appears on your face.

You all halt in your tracks once you meet in the middle.

“Hey sweets, are you okay?” He asks, eying you up and down one more time.

“Peachy!”

“Where have you been?”

Steve clears his throat, “we watched the fireworks from the woods and now I’m gonna take this one home, she’s tired.”

Eddie squints his eyes at him, giving a once over now – the way he has been doing it for some time now, like he is suspicious of his actions, like he wants to figure him out so he can protect you from him and irritates Steve.

“I can take her home,” Eddie shrugs.

“No!” You protest, clinging to Steve’s arm, you hold him tighter not wanting to be pulled away from him.

Steve chuckles softly, he looks down at you adoringly.

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll take her home to sleep, maybe shove some coffee down her throat, see if that helps. I am sensing I’m having a hungover Blondie tomorrow.”

Eddie raises one eyebrow at him, he crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. And Steve notices it from the corner of his eye, causing the smile to leave his face as a frown etches into his features instead.

“I’m not doing anything if that's what you’re fucking thinking, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands up in surrender, “sorry, can’t blame me for caring.”

That… Stings.

That actually hurts his feelings.

He may not be as close to Eddie as you are to him, but Eddie knows him well enough to know that he would never do anything like this.

“You really think I’m that disgusting?” Steve asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice.

Eddie sighs.

Of course he doesn’t.

He is just protective of his best friend, of her feelings.

Neither of you notice the way you keep looking between them, completely lost and confused.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you both have, Steve, but I’m allowed to care. I would’ve given her the same look if the roles were reversed.”

“She’s not like that,” Steve argues instantly.

Eddie sighs again, uncrossing his arms, he drops them to his side as he takes a look at the sky with a long sigh.

“I know she’s not, I know you’re not. Just… take care of her…”

Steve is still hurt by Eddie’s reaction, by the accusing look in his eyes, like Steve would do anything to hurt you.

He knows that it might only be because you are his best friend, because he feels protective of you, because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you – but to know that he was worried about you while you were with him makes him feel sick.

Steve would never do anything to hurt someone, let alone you.

“Can we go now?” You ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

A weak smile appears on his face as he looks down at you, “yeah, we can go.”

Steve doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s squinted eyes linger on him, the way he looks down at your hands, watching as Steve pulls you closer despite you being glued to his side already.

He can’t help but sigh when he sees the way you look at him, the dreaminess and the love is so evident and it worries him, your feelings for Steve worry him because he fears that he will break your heart, that he will rip it out of your chest.

Eddie is so focused on his worries, he doesn’t even see the way Steve looks at you.

“I’m gonna call you tomorrow, Eds.”

Eddie smiles at you, “yeah, alright.”

Steve nods at Eddie, only giving him a small smile as he starts pulling you away.

“Bye man,” Steve mumbles as he brushes past him.

“Bye Eddie!”

“Yeah, sleep well, sweets.” Eddie smiles, waving at you.

Walking away from the fairground and leaving behind the crowds of people and your best friend feels like a relief to Steve. He can’t move past the glances the metalhead gave to him, the worried looks he spared you as though you were in some kind of danger with him.

He can’t confront him, he can’t talk to him about it and tell him how wrong he is though, he would give away his feelings and he can’t do that.

You walk beside him quietly, not a single word falls from your lips, you just keep holding his hand, looking up at him every once in a while until you make it to his car.

Steve opens the door for you, begrudgingly letting go of you so you can get inside, he helps you buckle in your seatbelt, a surprised chuckle falls from his lips when you use the opportunity to kiss his cheek and he can’t even help himself but do the same to you, smacking his lips against your cheek to give you a loud smooch, one that makes you giggle.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, the way you slowly blink and how you sink deeper into the car seat as you yawn.

“Let's get you into bed, honey.”

Steve keeps the music on low during the drive home, you keep dozing off as your head keeps falling to the side but every time you open your eyes again, you look at him and you keep your eyes on him, making him blush beneath your softened gaze.

And then, you make his heart swell and his chest vibrate when you place your hand on his thigh and smile at him sweetly.

Everything about you drives him crazy today.

Every glance, every touch, every word, every kiss.

You have brought something out in him, something that was buried deep inside, hidden and locked away but you have found the key, you unlocked it, you brought something back that he thought was impossible to ever resurface again and you made it yours, you made him yours, all yours.

And now, he wants to give you everything.

He wants to take care of you, he wants to shower you with affection, he wants to be the one for you.

You’re making things complicated but in the most amazing of ways, in the most beautiful of twists that he couldn’t believe would happen again for him. Your small glances are enough to turn a flame in his entire body, your hand on his thigh as he parks at his home enough to send butterflies in his stomach, butterflies that he swore died when Nancy broke his heart.

Your touch is enough to make him tremble and make his knees buckle, when he helps you out of his car, both of you laugh as you almost fall right on your ass, even with his help. He is happy. He is content. He is extremely giddy when he is with you, as if he were fourteen all over again.

Even when you are not like this, when you are not this bubbly uncaring self, he still enjoys his time with you. He enjoys the accidental snorts that make him laugh as you swat him to try to stop him from laughing. The happy delighted moans you give when you try his cooking. The out of nowhere conversations in the mornings that you two now share together.

He likes it when you put on that strong wall, it makes you look cute, it makes him want to break it down. He loves the small banter, the pretend fights when you two are with the whole group, the way you pinch his side when you walk past him when no one is looking. He adores it.

When he finally manages to get you inside, he immediately urges you into the kitchen, making you drink water, not pepsi, despite your pouts and your teary eyes which almost make him become a puddle on the floor. He also gives you a leftover chicken sandwich he had in his fridge so you would eat something to absorb the alcohol.

“Eat at least half of that.” He commands and you just grumble something, cutely so, underneath your breath as you take a bite. He knew you probably didn’t eat anything at the fair, a possible reason for your drunkenness.

“I’ll eat… if you give me a kiss.” And just like that you pucker your lips his way and his heart can barely handle it. He licks his lips before leaning towards you and placing them on yours in a soft peck, a quick one. You smile before taking the first bite, and when you swallow it seems as if it turns on the hunger in your belly because you devour that sandwich in seconds.

He hopes you keep it down your stomach for the whole night and that it helps you feel okay in the morning. He wonders how you will act tomorrow, if you’ll remember all of this, if you’ll remember how much you kissed him, how you made him feel. He should tell you… He should…

But what if it’s the alcohol doing its thing?

“Okay, let’s go to bed.” And doing so turns out to be a challenge because as soon as you finish your food and water, your eyelids start to drop. Getting you off the stool and dragging you upstairs is easy but keeping you sitting up as he tries to change you into his clothes, that is another issue.

“I don’t wanna…” You mumble as you throw yourself back down onto the mattress, chest bare. He would have gotten riled up, if it weren’t for the fact he felt domestic, fluttery, and his chuckles came out easily out of his lips when looking at you.

“You have to, it’s just the shirt, come on.” His voice is soft as he talks to you, making you raise yourself up again, sitting in front of him and raising your arms up for him to slide his shirt on you. As soon as it’s on, you bounce back and get comfortable in his pillow with a contented sigh. He smiles at you as he takes off his shirt and starts unbuckling his belt in order to get comfortable. His own tiredness is starting to take a toll on his body.

He doesn’t notice that you had turned your head to look at him again, and a wolf whistle is heard in the room, making him turn to look at you. You have a cheeky smile on your face and he feels himself blushing slightly as he laughs, taking his pants off next, leaving him in boxers only.

“As if you haven’t seen it before.” He says and it only makes you whistle again as he saunters over with a shake of his head, a smile still plastered on his lips.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t adore it everytime,” you whisper.

And that makes the smile drop, but in shock. Your words went deep, soothing over wounds that had been created long ago, and he doesn’t mean his scars. He has to clear his throat in order to walk towards the bed and get inside right next to you, only for you to immediately crawl on top of him, laying your chin on his chest, looking at him.

It holds so much adoration for some reason, a sparkle that makes Steve’s stomach turn, hope that rose in his throat like vomit, ready to come out, overwhelming him. You are looking at him as if he hung the stars for you, as if he were your only person in the entire world.

And he knows he is looking down at you in the exact same way.

“What now?”

“You’re just so pretty… It’s stupid how pretty you are.” He chuckles, making his chest rumble and for you to bounce up and down with it.

You pout but it’s followed by a smile, “it’s true, you are.”

“I’m not told that very often Blondie.” He honestly replies and that makes you raise your head up and look down at him with determination in your eyes. “Wh–”

He can’t even finish his question because your lips start going crazy on his face, but softly, caring, taking extra time on following the lines of moles he has on his jaw. He is startled, shocked, for no one ever did this to him, not even his own mother. No one ever showered him with affection, with kisses.

And as though that wasn’t sweet and surprising enough, you nuzzle your nose against his, giggling when a big smile appears on his face.

You are cute. You are so fucking cute.

It is an overwhelming feeling, one that almost makes him feel like crying.

Your lips pressed on the tip of his nose as you pulled away, a proud smile on your face, and he wonders what is going through your mind right now. If it it’s all true, fuck, he wants it all to be true. He needs it to be true. He needs and desires that you are doing all of this intentionally to him, despite the alcohol.

“There, now you know.”

You really are beautiful, so beautiful. He feels drunk on you, seeing you, feeling you… his hand rises up, not able to contain himself as it runs through the back of your head and pulls you down to his lips, letting him give you a deep kiss. A kiss that made the fireworks he saw earlier explode inside his room again.

You follow his lips with a hum, and he doesn’t want to pull away. He needs it all. He needs you. Not in the way he has been having you the past month. Not at all, not even close.

He lets you pull away, and his hand caresses your cheek, pulling your head down to rest on his chest again as your legs intertwine with his underneath the sheets. He wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating. If it bangs your head from how hard he feels his chest being hit with it.

“Sleep Blondie.” He wishes anything but that, but he needs the silence, the time alone.

“Hmm… night Stevie…” And he knows your eyes are closed, that you mumble that with the last bit of strength you had. His eyes remain on the ceiling as his mind starts working, gears going round and round, going overtime.

He had been running from the definition of the feeling, even if he knew it was there, even if he accepted everything else that came with it. He kept running and running, and now he had hit a wall.

So it’s time to stop and turn around to face you.

Steve Harrington decides to stop running as he looks down at you and his lips press at the top of your head while his arms hold you tighter. You whine in your sleep, yet your cheek nuzzles even more into his chest.

He can’t deny you anymore. Not when you look like this in his arms. Not when you peppered his face with kisses he never received. Not when he saw you in a vulnerable moment of yours. Not when he gets to see you moan in pleasure because of him. Not when he gets to see you have fun with everyone else. Not when you saved his life, going headfirst for him. Not when you already send smiles his way that make his heart stop.

And if you wake up tomorrow with a headache, he will be waiting for you with coffee in hand, an advil, and some food, ready to help you. To take care of you. He will let you lay in his bed all the time you need, all in order to make you feel better.

Because Steve Harrington started feeling again.

He likes you. He terribly and adoringly likes you… and he is afraid because–

It’s nowhere near little. Not at all.

“Can’t believe I fell for you, Blondie.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht — chapter fifteen #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things angst

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fanartist666 · 6 months ago

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TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 3 months ago

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Strategic Heartbeats

Word count: 1.2k

Pairning: Toto Wolff x Race strategy!reader

Summary: During a lively team dinner, Y/n, a dedicated strategist at Mercedes, navigates playful banter with her colleagues while feeling the charged tension between her and Toto Wolff

______________________________________________________________

The last few weeks had been an exhausting blur of meetings, track data, and strategy sessions. As part of the Mercedes strategy team, your job was to analyze every race, but you’d spent more time thinking about the man in charge, Toto Wolff. His presence dominated the paddock—confident, composed, with that quiet intensity that made you feel small but seen, all at once. You’d noticed his attention lately—the way he lingered near you, his subtle touches that seemed to burn through you.

You weren’t supposed to let it affect you, but it did. You missed him during the race weekends when he was locked in meetings or dealing with drivers. It was the anticipation, the way his gaze would flicker toward you during briefings, leaving you breathless and wanting. You had been good at hiding it—until today.

You were alone in your hotel room, hours before the team dinner. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do it. He had set the boundary clearly—don’t touch yourself without his permission. But after weeks of waiting, after so many nights lying in bed, aching for him, you gave in. Your hands had wandered, pressing into the heat between your thighs, imagining his touch instead of your own.

The guilt crept in soon after, but it was too late. You dressed carefully for the dinner, slipping into a sleek black dress that hugged your curves just right, hoping to maintain a professional demeanor. But as you sat on the edge of your bed, the tension of the past few weeks clawed at you. You desperately wanted to touch yourself, to give in to the frustration building inside you, but the idea of thinking about Toto in that way felt like crossing a boundary you couldn't bear to cross.

When you arrived at the hotel restaurant, the most important people from the Mercedes F1 team were already gathered. Laughter and lighthearted banter filled the air, but your gaze immediately sought out Toto. He stood at the far end of the room, commanding the attention of his colleagues, a mix of authority and charisma in every gesture.

As you took your seat beside him, his familiar cologne enveloped you, and you tried to focus on the dinner conversation. The team joked about race strategies and playful rivalries, and you found yourself laughing along, desperate to shake off your earlier thoughts.

But as the evening progressed, Toto placed his hand on the back of your chair. His fingers rested lightly against the wood, and you felt a shiver of warmth shoot through you. Then, he began to caress your shoulder with his thumb, slow and absentminded. You fought to stay composed, reminding yourself not to read too much into his actions. He was just being friendly, right?

As dinner progressed, the atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and playful banter among the team.

“Did you see how the other teams were scrambling in the pit today?” one of the engineers joked, leaning back in his chair. “It looked like a game of musical chairs out there!”

“Honestly, if we didn’t have Toto keeping us in line, I think half of us would forget which side the tires go on,” another strategist chimed in, grinning at Toto.

“Hey, I only make sure you all remember the basics!” Toto shot back, a playful glint in his eye. “Next time, I’ll start giving pop quizzes at the end of each race.”

The room erupted in laughter, and someone from the back added, “I’d pay to see that! ‘Question one: Which tire do we change first?’”

“Followed by a bonus question about the best strategist in the paddock,” another team member interjected, nudging you playfully. “That one’s obviously about Y/N here!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think I still have a lot to learn before I can claim that title.”

Toto leaned closer, his thumb still caressing your shoulder as he joined in the fun. “Just remember, even if you don’t feel like the best, you’re definitely the most dedicated. You’ve got the team’s best interests at heart.”

“Aw, look at him, buttering you up!” an engineer teased, winking at you. “What’s your secret, Toto? Are you trying to recruit her for a new position?”

“Maybe I just appreciate good work ethic,” he replied, his voice warm but teasing. “Or maybe I’m just trying to keep her from taking my job!”

“Good luck with that!” someone called out, and the table erupted in laughter again, the camaraderie and easy banter filling the air as the evening continued. You joined in the laughter, grateful for the lighthearted moments amid the pressure of the season.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, leaning closer as the laughter around the table increased. “You seem a bit distracted tonight.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the upcoming race.”

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “You know you can relax a little. We’re all here to unwind.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… a lot to process sometimes,” you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He nodded, his thumb still moving against your shoulder. “You’re doing great work. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

The conversation flowed around you, filled with teasing and camaraderie, but your focus kept drifting back to Toto’s touch. Each small movement made it harder to concentrate, harder to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t help but wonder if he sensed the growing tension between you, if he knew the thoughts swirling in your head.

After dinner, as the group began to disperse, Toto turned to you with a warm smile. “Mind if I walk you to your room?”

“Not at all,” you replied, trying to hide the flutter of excitement in your chest.

As you made your way to the elevator, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. “You handled the meeting today really well,” he complimented, and you felt a rush of pride.

“Thanks! I just tried to keep everyone focused,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

The elevator doors slid shut, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you in the small space. The air felt charged, and you could almost hear the tension crackle between you. Toto shifted closer, his hand now resting lightly on your lower back, and you fought to keep your breathing steady.

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if we… I don’t know, crossed that line?” he asked, his voice low and contemplative.

Your heart raced, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet curious. “I mean, sometimes I wonder if we could be more than just colleagues. There’s something… undeniable between us.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. “Toto, I don’t want to complicate things. We have a good dynamic as it is.”

He nodded, understanding, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. “I get it. But it’s hard to ignore what’s right in front of us.”

As the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Toto hesitated. “Let’s just talk more, okay? I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

You stepped out, feeling the weight of the moment linger in the air. “I’d like that,” you said softly, your heart pounding.

But as you turned to walk down the hallway, you felt his hand slip into yours, gently pulling you back. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver through you. “Just remember, whatever happens, I’m here.”

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sbcdh · 4 days ago

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You know where the word cocaine comes from? Its Quechua. Just the name of the damn plant. I think it was 1971, maybe 72. I dunno-

Could you start at the beginning?

Huh? Yeah, sure. Course. Uhh. Lets see…

Take your time.

Woof. Lets see…I started in uhhh, 72. Some tiny little bottle-rocket firm sweatin for talent, head broker was this big red fatass named Ron Spade, hell of a guy, but the place got bought out by Bear Stearns in 73 when the shit really hit the fan. It was a rough time to be on a trade floor. IRS just put out the whole hypnoeconomics thing. Half the big firms were runnin’ around with their hair on fire, the other half felt invincible. Every day was a party. Party party party.

Was that your first interaction with hypnostimulants?

I guess. Its funny. First guy to give me quori was a cop.

You mean an agent of the FDA?

No no, like an old fashioned NYPD beat cop. Met him in the bathroom at Pink during a bender. Moron was so faded he thought I was his informant. Just gave me a phial.

And you tried it?

Not right away no. To be honest I thought it was kinda faggy. Sorry. Its just what I thought at the time. The shit was sparkly, you know? What kinda drug comes in phials? Shoulda known something was up.

Would you say hypnostimulants were popular at the time?

At the time? Depends what you mean by popular. People didn’t know about that shit yet. You heard stories, dudes shooting up in the woods upstate, gettin found with their eyeballs exploded. It was early days, ya know? But like, that didn’t happen. That was urban legends. You know who was actually fucking around with the early stuff? Accountants.

Accountants?

Yeah, you know, the bookkeepers. See, I’m really just a plumber. I move money from one pipe to another pipe. But instead of wrenches and sprockets or whatever, I use charm. Its pretty easy if you ask me. Imagine if you could just tell water where it already wanted to go. You’re water’s best pal. Nah. It was those nerds in the basement, the spreadsheet guys that figured out how to expense shit so the IRS couldn’t get ya. Those were the fuckers who really dove in.

What got you using regularly?

Same shit as everyone else. Makes the job easier.

How so?

You can feel the money in their pocket. Its like, I dunno how to describe it. Its like…Its like, a turd sitting in a hammock. You can feel how the money bends everything around it. You can see it, smell it. You can hear it over the phone. You can’t ignore it. Shit is nuts. You take enough, and its like you can’t see anything else. Or. No. Its like…You see that you don’t need to see anything else. Money is everything. You’re money. I’m money. Its all just rivers of money flowing through everything.

By 1973 you were a regular user yes?

Regular makes it sound normal. But yeah I know what you mean. “Regular user.” 76 was the sweet spot. The drugs were good, but the regulators hadn’t stepped up yet. You and some buddies could set up in a club bathroom with nothing but a blindfold and a pile. You ever seen a stock floor with a headfull of that fancy government shit?

Would you like to discuss the raid?

No. Not really.

I understand you were the only one in a sub-emmanation state when Hypnoregulators arrived on the scene.

I don't want to talk about it.

Very well then, my associate will be happy to take you to prison as per the agreement you signed.

Alright alright, Christ.

Please. In your own words.

From what I understand, you pulled spade outta bed. Got a confession and everything that morning. 9 fuckin AM, and 200 IRS agents come busting in the doors. I was in the bathroom seeing shit. It's marble lined, lots gold filigree. All that jazz. Special made. Listen. I'm serious about the stock floor shit. Whatever you guys have, it's different than what we had back then. I mean, the shit was still cut with cocaine. A stock floor wasn't a stock floor, it was like…

The raid, please.

I'm getting to it! You gotta know this shit okay? I need you to understand what you goons fuckin wrecked. It was perfect okay? A garden of Eden . Ripe fruit. Everything just works. You don't have to worry about shit. You're a hunter, a killer, the great fuckin god pan, and the floor is your field of delights. It's like being a beating heart, like being struck by lightning. You can feel the sun in your pocket, and how it's all flowing through everything. And then you fucks showed up.

It was cold. I felt it first. Like I just threw the biggest party, and mom and dad were coming home early. But you know what I saw? You know those Chinese dragon dancers? Or, lions, or whatever they are? You know how there's two guys in the costume? I saw a dragon, a beast with eyes like the sun, teeth dripping gold, a bunch of IRS suits holding its pelt on their shoulders like you carry your baby home.

Your statement alluded to some additional information.

Yeah…there was something else… I dunno how to describe it. The fuckin…eyes, like the sun. Thats how you feel when you're on this shit. You're seein’ gold. I looked into the dragons eyes, and it's like, it's like I saw me. Like I was the dragon, and I was looking at me. Or…no. I was the sun. I was looking at myself. It was like, in that moment I knew something. I learned something.

What exactly is that?

I dunno. It doesn't fit into words. But like. You aren't regulating shit.

I'm sorry?

Yeah. All this shit. The dragon. The field. The dancers. It's all just the sun.

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al-the-remix · 4 months ago

Text

BuckTommy Whump Week Day 4: Prompts: Getting shot // Chronic pain

Another fic for @bucktommywhumpweek! I'm hoping to finish a few more of these before the week is actually over, lol. Rated: E ... I don't know if this really qualifies as whump (like my last whump week fic 💀) but I just can't help making them all sappy atm.

What people didn’t know about bullets was that they rarely went through-and-through in a nice neat manner; not through walls, or car doors, or flesh. They bounced around inside you like a rubber ball, inflicting the most damage possible.

Buck had seen the aftermath more times than would have liked to.

The memory of being called to his first GSW was a visceral one, it had been a domestic dispute and once they’d loaded the victim into the bus, Hen had rubbed his back as he’d thrown up into some nearby shrubbery. Buck could still feel the acid burn in the back of his throat when he remembered it.

He’d seen cadaver photos in his text books, but those never compared to the real thing. The sheer volume of blood that poured out of people was enough to make him nauseous just thinking about it. The cartoonish version of a bullet hole that he’d carried around in his head for most of his life just hadn’t held up.

Maybe it had been shortsighted of him, but Buck had never taken the time to consider what might come later; not until Tommy had taken Buck’s hand in his own and laid it over the meat of his shoulder and let Buck feel the little knobs of bullet fragments lodged there, like ball bearings trapped beneath his skin.

“Do they bother you?” Buck asked, in wonder.

“Not often,” Tommy replied, his hand still blanketing Buck’s as he let him dig his fingers into his shoulder muscle like he would be more than happy to just leave it there forever. “Most of the time I forget they're even there.”

Buck found that hard to believe. He couldn’t imagine having a foreign object stuck in his body and not obsessing over it every moment of every day.

Tommy was giving him an amused, knowing look.

“What?”

“You’re going to be thinking about those for a while aren’t you?”

Buck huffed, rolling his eyes. It was a little unsettling maybe, sometimes, being understood so through and quickly by another person. He liked it; it made him feel all shivery and warm inside, but more importantly it made him feel daring. Bold.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

Tommy took Buck’s hand in his own: his palm big, warm and dry, and slid it down to rest on the muscular curve of his outer thigh. “There’s some more over here too,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as Buck gave all the nice warm flesh there a squeeze.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, but Tommy had been right, Buck had thought about it for a while, his mind stuck on invisible scars and mementoes carried around inside you that no one else could see.

///

Buck wasn’t sure if it was the thunder or the soft orange glow spilling into the mezzanine that woke him. Quiet noises came from the kitchen below, the muted purr of the kettle and the shuffle of Tommy’s socked feet against the tile. Tommy had still been in Buck’s bed when he’d fallen asleep hours ago, tucked up against Tommy’s side as Tommy read by the lamp light.

Buck pulled on his sweatpants and made his way down to the main floor, feeling oddly awake for 4 am. He rarely had a bad night’s sleep when Tommy was with him, taking up space in Buck’s bed and stealing his covers.

Tommy sent him a guilty look when he noticed Buck, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, not pulling honey from Buck’s kitchen cabinet. He was wearing one of Buck’s old hoodies and some sleep shorts. The circles under his eyes were dark and deep. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered like Buck might be standing there in front of him, still asleep.

“I don’t mind,” Buck said and meant it. He wasn't the one with the shift in far too few hours.

Buck leaned back against the edge of the counter crossing his arms as he did, and settled in. He knew whatever was bothering Tommy would work its way out on its own, like a splinter buried beneath skin. He watched quietly as Tommy stirred honey into his tea. Buck was no stranger to sleepless nights and aching bones. Tommy had sat with him through some of the more recent bad nights, endlessly patient.

Buck watched him closely, quietly analyzing the tilt of his body and the clench of his jaw as Tommy leaned against the counter opposite him. The cool light from the stove hugged the contours of his face, digging out dark wedges beneath those cheekbones that could cut glass.

“Well, aren't you gonna ask?”

Buck shrugged. “I figured I'd just wait you out.”

Tommy sighed, setting his mug to the side. He was smart enough to know when he was on the losing side of a battle. “It's the scar tissue around the shrapnel I've still got in me. Every so often it begins to pull in uncomfortable ways and makes it impossible to get settled.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Tommy tilted his head like he was really considering Buck and his words. “Honestly I don't know, I normally just take an Ibuprofen and put on a movie or something and try to just ignore it.”

“Well, I think we can do better than that,” Buck said, and Tomy raised a brow, curiosity peaked.

With hands planted firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, Buck guided him back upstairs to bed and got him splayed out on his belly across the center of the mattress on a towel, sweater-less, with his arms tucked comfortably under his head.

“Finally, just where I want you,” Buck teased as he straddled Tommy’s waist, reaching for the massage oil. He could feel Tommy’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, muffled by the pillow.

Buck admired the span of Tommy’s back as he warmed the oil up between his hands, deciding where to begin. The bullet and shrapnel scars were faint now, Buck knew their locations by memory and feel alone. He started by smoothing his hands up the center of Tommy’s back, following the column of his spine and the thick muscles flanking it, getting Tommy warmed up and used to his touch before applying more pressure.

Buck always preferred to talk while he worked, and with Tommy the smooth flow of words came easy. If he let himself, he could probably let his mouth run for hours, and Tommy would listen.

“You know, I wanted to be a masseuse for a while.”

Tommy hummed, his eyes had drifted shut when Buck began to work on the tight knot of tissue just below his shoulder blade, he peeled one open now, offering Buck an amused look over his shoulder. “And which hunky guy did you follow that career into?”

“Ha ha,” Buck said, poking his fingers playfully into Tommy's side, just to watch him squirm. “Actually, it was after working at the ranch, there was this ex bronco rider, who had compressed his spine one too many times, mucking out stalls with me. He told me all about how his girlfriend had taken massage therapy classes to help him with his back because his insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment.”

“Ah, so it was a hunky girl that time.”

Buck chuckled. He liked how easy it was to talk with Tommy about stuff like this; he wasn’t ashamed of himself or his past, but he was wary of how people might perceive him because of it. He’d wanted so badly for Tommy to think of him as a serious person, to know that Buck was all in. That dating him didn’t imply some sort of unspoken risk–and with Tommy it never had.

“You know me–I always liked the idea of helping people, I just didn't know how, yet.”

“Maybe I’m being selfish, but I think you ended up right where you were supposed to be,” Tommy said, and groaned in pleasure when Buck really started working at the scar tissue webbed deep within his back muscle.

“How’s that feel?” Buck asked, anticipating Tommy's approval.

“Fucking awesome.”

Buck grinned. He knew he was good with his hands, but it was a whole nother thing entirely to be good with his hands for Tommy. Pleased with himself, a heavy satisfaction settled warm in the pit of his stomach. He loved everything about this: having Tommy pliable and relaxed beneath him, working slick skin over with his hands, making Tommy feel good, being able to help in some small way.

Buck shuffled down, straddling Tommy’s leg so he could work his fingers into the outside of Tommy’s thigh where he knew a metal shard the size of his thumbnail lived. That one had been logged in there when an IED had struck the lead vehicle in their convoy, and some of Buck’s satisfaction melted away as he thought about just how many close calls his boyfriend’s body was littered with. He was normally the one getting shit for taking risks, but in truth Tommy was just as guilty as he was.

Tommy had gone completely boneless underneath him, his skin pink and a little shiny from having Buck’s oiled up hands all over him. He continued to rub gently circles into his skin even after he’d finished with the final shrapnel wound he knew of, running his nails lightly over the thick swirls of hair on the backs of Tommy’s legs.

Tommy shifted his hips against the mattress, spreading his legs a little wider. Buck knew that move, and that satisfaction in his gut twisted and flared back to life. He slid his hands up the backs of Tommy’s thighs as slowly as he could handle.

“Are you hard?” he asked, worming his fingers under the hem of Tommy’s shorts when he reached them.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “That felt really good, but, uh, we don’t have to do anything, you must be tired and–”

He was starting to sound way too with it for Buck’s liking. Buck dug his thumbs into the soft inner flesh of Tommy’s thighs and let his hips roll in a slow, pointed drag along the back of Tommy’s leg so there was no way he could miss the semi Buck was sporting.

Tommy’s muscles jumped under his hands as he groaned. “Okay, Okay, you’ve made your point. Help me out of these–”

Buck was more than happy to peel Tommy’s shorts down his legs as Tommy lifted his hips obligingly. He had half a mind to just dump a generous amount of the oil on Tommy’s big pale ass and go to town, but he had a feeling that would probably ruin the [slowly winding] mood they’d built.

In a show of what he considered great restraint, Buck slipped a slick hand between Tommy’s thighs, rolling his balls softly in the palm of his hand just to hear the noises he would make. Quiet chuffs and deep groans were muffled by the pillow as Tommy ground his hips in lazy circles against the mattress and back into Buck’s hand, and Buck was starting to think he’d never get over how good it felt to have another man like this: a big body to push and pull and work at until it ultimately unraveled.

Buck stretched up so he could press a kiss to the thick curve of Tommy’s shoulder, not caring one bit about the oil that still clung to his skin. He let his hand drift up and rubbed his slick fingers indulgently over Tommy’s asshole, gratified by the way he moaned and pushed into it.

“You can if you want to,” Tommy said, breathless, and Buck could tell without even looking at his face how gone he was just from having Buck’s hands on him.

“I have a better idea,” Buck said, pulling at Tommy’s hip. “Here–roll onto your side for me.”

It didn’t take Tommy long to clue in once Buck pressed himself all up along his back and reached for the bottle of oil again, slicking his dick up in the shallow space between their bodies.

His body tensed when realization dawned. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Evan– ”

And it was Tommy’s turn to lose his cool, his voice reedy and feverish, a thin tremor through his body as Buck maneuvered his thigh so he could fit his dick into that hot, tight space between them. He wrapped an arm around the barrel of Tommy’s chest, pinning him tight against his own as Buck took that first long, indulgent roll of his hips.

Buck had always enjoyed fucking someone’s thighs–what wasn’t there to like–but there was something specific about the way Tommy got so worked up over it, even in the early hours of the morning after a sleepless night, even when Buck had just worked his body to jello with his hands, that rocketed the act up into the stratosphere.

Tommy squeezed his thighs around him, Buck could hear the labored cadence of his breathing and the obscene sounds of him fisting his own cock, as Buck fucked the slick give of his thighs. The way the head of his dick kept nudging up against the soft resistance of Tommy’s balls with every stroke was still just different enough to scratch at Buck’s brain in new and interesting ways.

Tommy’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling Buck’s face down so he could slide their mouth together at an awkward angle. The kiss was sloppy, Tommy kept sucking Buck’s tongue into his mouth and then breaking away to moan again and again as he got closer to coming. Buck could feel it all through his body, wound like a coil ready to spring. He wasn’t far behind, his plan to keep things slow and simmering had fallen through quickly. He should have known better; with Tommy pressed against him like one big throbbing pulse, overwhelming Buck’s senses with the musky scent of his body, and the sounds he made when he touched himself, and how good it felt to rut against him like this, the desperate slide of skin against skin, there was just no chance he was going to last.

Buck buried his face in the hollow of Tommy’s shoulder, just above where that pale constellation of shrapnel lived, and stilled as he came in thick pulses all along Tommy’s taint, that little space between his thighs instantly going wet and frictionless.

Tommy made a wounded sound, and Buck held him tight in the cradle of his arms as Tommy hitched his hips into his fist until he came. He was still pressing kisses against Tommy’s damp hairline when Tommy reached up and laced their fingers together, no longer shaking.

“Well, I’m definitely not thinking about the stupid shrapnel anymore.”

“Good,” Buck said, allowing himself to feel smug about it. “My work here is done.”

“Not so quick hot stuff,” Tommy said, reaching back to pat him on the hip. “I expect your help de-oiling in the shower. I think this mess is a four-handed operation.”

“Yes, sir.” Buck peeled himself from where he’d been clinging to Tommy like a limpet.

He took a moment to admire the long, glistening stretch of Tommy’s body, limp and satisfied. Debauched, even.

"What?" Tommy asked, stretching his arms above his head as he rolled onto his back, offering Buck a good view of where his come was actively drying in his happy trail. Buck would have a fun time scrubbing that out.

"Nothing, I'm just happy you're here, with me."

Tommy face went immediately soft and he pressed up on his knees so he could pull Buck into one more lingering kiss before breaking away.

"There's no where I'd rather be."

#bucktommy #mine

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willieverseetheland · 5 months ago

Text

de-stressing

Will Graham x fem!reader

Summary: You take Will on a much needed vacation to take his mind off of work (and redirect it on you)

WARNINGS: 18+, Established relationship, smut, kinda rushed so bear with me PLEASE

Things had been rough for Will these past few weeks. This recent case had his full attention. It had him stressed, working long hours, coming home late, waking up in the night soaked in sweat. Technically, the usual Will things, but worse. You felt like you barely had any time with him. Not to mention, you hadn’t been intimate in weeks.

Lying next to him at night you found yourself imagining his body pressed against yours, legs intertwined, each other’s sweat and moans filling the cool night air. Heat growing between your legs. You wanted to touch yourself but you didn’t want to wake him, considering how little sleep he’s been getting.

One morning while walking the dogs you had the perfect idea. Vacation. Something quite foreign to Will, but that’s exactly why it was perfect. He works himself too hard. What more could Jack possibly need him for you thought. Just a few days for him to unwind, and for you to get what you desperately needed.

You thought through your options. Somewhere warm, maybe South Carolina? No. Will wasn’t a beach person. Hotel in the city? Definitely not, too many people. Cabin in the mountains? Perfect. You looked online and rented a quaint little cabin in the mountains in West Virginia. About 2 hours from Wolf Trap. Nothing too far but away from work and people. You asked a friend to take care of the dogs while you were gone. You had everything figured out.

When Will got home that night you revealed your plan.

When he walked through the door you greeted him with a hug and kiss to the forehead.

“Welcome home, handsome” you smiled.

“You’re in a rather pleasant mood tonight” Will remarked.

“Well, I have some good news to tell you”

“And what is this news?” He questioned

“We are going on a little vacation, just me and you, in a cabin, just for a few days.”

“I’m assuming I don’t really have the option to say no”

“You would be correct. You need this, we need this hon” you placed your hand softly on his cheek

He sighed, “You’re right, I haven’t really been myself recently, things have been difficult”

“Great! We leave tomorrow night, I will pack our things while you’re at work”

The next morning after Will heads out, you begin packing all the essentials. Your sexiest underwear, along with a very skimpy bikini, you forgot to mention that there’s a hot tub.

You decide to drive there to let Will relax. You blast your favorite songs on the stereo, much to Will’s annoyance, but he loves you so he tolerates it.

The first thing you do when you arrive at the cabin is slip your bikini on and jump in the hot tub, Will soon follows after.

“Isn’t this just what you needed?” You question with a smile

“I want to lie and say it’s not, but god this is nice” Will sighs in relief.

"Well... I bet I could make it even better" You bite your lip slightly as you look up to meet his gaze

"Is that so?" Will asks with a sly grin

You move closer to Will, untying your bikini top as you do.

He reaches out to grab your hips as you swing your legs over his straddling his lap. When you finally slip off your top Will's eyes scan your body, focusing on your breasts. He leans in the kiss you; the kiss is deep, hungry. You can tell he's needed this just as much as you.

He moves from kissing your lips to your, jaw, neck, then shoulders. You moan in response causing Will to bite down slightly, immediately soothing the spot with a lick. He leaves hickeys across your chest, he loves marking you, nothing too visible to others but just enough for him to see, a reminder that you belong to him.

You feel him hardening beneath you. Needing friction, you begin to grind your hips down on his. This elicits a deep groan from Will. He tugs at your bottoms; you get the message and lift your hips allowing him to take them off. You return the favor, pulling his trunks down causing his cock to spring free. You've been thinking about this moment for days, you're already so wet and he barely had to touch you.

You lower your hips, lining his cock with your entrance. As you sink down you let out a ragged gasp, he stretches you perfectly, it's been so long you almost forgot how big he truly was. Will grips your hips tighter, tight enough to leave marks, you hope. After you adjust, you move faster, finding the perfect pace. Will bucks his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you. One hand grips Will's shoulder while the other snakes up to tangle in his hair.

Every groan, whimper, and moan sends chills down your spine. You love when Will is vocal, and he's especially vocal tonight.

As he gets closer to the edge, his thrusts become increasingly rough. He moves one hand from your hips to rub circles on your clit.

You can feel your release quickly approaching as Will works you perfectly.

"Fuck Will, f-fuck!" you moan

Soon you fall over the edge, moaning loudly as Will continues to fuck you senseless.

He wraps his arms under yours, gripping your shoulders. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. But the way your walls pulse around his cock, he's soon to follow.

"Y/n, I'm close" Will's breath is hot against your ear

"Inside, please" you beg

At that, Will comes undone. His head falls forward, coming to rest his forehead against yours, breath heavy and hot. The feeling of his release inside you gives you a feeling like no other. You feel so close to him in this moment. The two of you sit there in each other's arms, feeling the other's heartbeat.

"I've missed you" you say, so quiet it's almost a whisper

Will kisses your forehead and embraces you tighter

"I've missed you too"

Sorry it's rushed and mediocre! I was running out of ideas and wanted to get this out since I haven't published in a while, I promise I will do better next time lol, thanks for reading! :)

#hannibal nbc #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham smut #fanfic writing #hannibal #nbc hannibal

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daysofyellowroses · 10 months ago

Text

sandwich

carmen berzatto x afab!reader | 7.9k | based on this wonderful request by @kpopgirlbtssvt (sincere apologies this took so long!) | 18+ minors dni | warnings: smut, mentions of abuse, shitty shitty behaviour, language

finally finally finally i am posting this! it was not intended to be so long but i couldn't bring myself to end it, then life and work got busy and long story short, here it is! i have more requests to get working on, but i have a week off from today so hopefully no more delays! 🌼💗🫶🏻

🐻

“I can do this, I can totally do this.”

You repeated the words to yourself over and over, looking at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was just a job interview, it wasn't like you were going into battle or something. Still, that thought didn't ease the knot in your stomach. Job interviews were always nerve-wracking, it was just the nature of them. You'd lost track of how many you'd been on, they all started to blur together. Some of the jobs weren't even really what you wanted, but you needed something new. Your notice was burning a hole in your pocket, just waiting to be handed in.

You stepped back from the mirror, taking a deep breath. Your outfit looked professional, you felt. A white shirt and navy pants, simple but effective. You forced yourself to smile, to try and feel more relaxed. The world wouldn't end, you still had a job, technically, had a roof over your head. A new roof, a new life. Now you just needed a new job and it would all fall into place.

Heading into your bedroom, you checked your phone to see which interview it was, your calendar flooded with notices. The latest was a hostess job for the Bear, a newly opened restaurant. You'd been a little surprised to get a call for an interview, while you had worked in a restaurant before it was a couple of years ago and you'd worked there for less than a year. Still, an interview was an interview, and you wouldn't be too down if you didn't get it.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you wondered if you'd gone to the right address. In theory it looked like a restaurant, but there was still a whole lot of construction work going on. You wondered how soon the soon-to-be-open was exactly. Heading inside, you raised a brow at how much work was being done, an interview on a construction site would be a new experience for sure.

After a moment, a blonde woman walked through one of the open doorways, picking her way across the floor to you. She seemed to be heavily pregnant, but it didn't stop her weaving through the room with ease.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting,” She smiled as she approached you. “I'm Natalie, one of the managers here. You must be my ten o'clock interview, come on in.”

She led you to a table that had been laid out how you imagined all the tables would eventually look, with its elegant wine glasses and luxurious napkins and cutlery. There were, you noticed, three chairs across the table from you, your heart beating a little faster. You didn't mind interviews but when there were three or four people talking to you at once it could be a little intense.

You gave her your details and placed your purse on the back of your chair, taking a deep breath.

“Great,” Natalie smiled, placing the copy of your resume that you had given her on the table. “I'm just waiting for-”

“I'm here,” A voice called from across the room. “Sorry I'm late.”

You looked over, finding a tall man in a dark suit walking over to the table. He looked about mid-40s, piercing blue,eyes, pretty attractive but not necessarily your type. Not that it mattered, you told yourself. Finding your boss attractive hadn't been great for you historically.

The man introduced himself and you did the same, sitting up a little as he sat down beside Natalie.

“Are Carm and Sydney coming to this one?” Natalie asked Richie, quietly. “They said they would.”

“Said they'd try,” Richie replied, looking over to you with a polite smile. “But let's get started shall we?”

“Absolutely.” You nodded with a smile, taking a deep breath.

“Well let's tell you a little bit about us,” Natalie smiled. “As you can see we're still in the renovation stage, but we're close to the end now. We were a sandwich shop before but now we're moving to a more high end operation, which we're all very excited about. It's a great team we have here, and we're looking forward to building on what we already have.”

“That sounds great,” You smiled, glancing down to the table for a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up. “I'm used to working as part of a strong team, so that wouldn't be a problem.”

“Excellent,” Natalie nodded, looking at your resume for a moment before looking over to Richie. “Well Richie here is our front of house manager so I'll let him fill you in on what we would expect from you.”

Richie nodded, looking over to you and you felt your heart race a little. For good or bad you weren't sure, but you decided to roll with it.

“As Natalie said we're going to be a high end operation,” Richie began, his gaze burning into you. “What does that mean to you?”

You thought about it for a moment, adjusting the napkin in front of you before looking back at Richie.

“To me it means excellent food, a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, and a strong focus on customer service.”

Richie was quiet for a moment and you found yourself questioning your answer.

“Good,” Richie nodded, sitting back a little. “Now..”

It was fifteen or so minutes later when the door to the restaurant opened. Richie and Natalie both glanced over and you paused what you were saying. After a moment they looked back at you and you kept going, a man about your age coming over to the table and sitting in the empty chair beside Natalie. He gave you a polite smile and you felt your heart race in a way you knew definitely wasn't good but in the best possible way.

“Apologies for my brother's lateness,” Natalie sighed softly, gesturing to the man beside her. “This is Carmy, he's the head chef.”

He smiled as he held his hand out to you and it took you a second to remember your own name. You shook his had, trying to ignore the spark that shot through you.

The rest of the interview felt like a blur, before you knew it you were saying your goodbyes and heading out. You had no idea if you had actually done well or not, with every other interview you'd had some idea but you were honestly clueless with this one.

It was a couple of days later when you got a phone call. You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone rang, you could hear it from your bedroom and quickly threw a towel around yourself before heading into your bedroom. You didn't have time to check the ID before answering your phone, clutching your towel around yourself.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sorry to call so early.”

You vaguely recognised the voice, running through possible options in your head before it dawned on you.

“Uh..no, no it's fine,” You nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Don't worry.”

“Great,” Carmy replied. “I wanted to thank you for coming in the other day, we had a lot of interviews..”

You took a deep breath as you braced yourself for rejection. It wouldn't be the worst thing, but it still always felt a little deflating to be told you weren't good enough.

“..and I wanted to let you know that we would love to have you on board, if you're still interested?”

Your heart flew into your mouth, your mind unable to process an answer for a moment.

“I..yes, yes I'm still interested,” You nodded, a smile breaking out on your face. “That's amazing, thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” Carmy's voice sounded low in your ear and you found yourself clutching your towel tighter. “I know you have to work out your notice in your current job but whenever you're free to start, we'll be here.”

“Oh, great,” You murmured, cursing yourself for sounding so dazed. “I'll hand my notice in today, and..I'll keep you updated. Thank you so much.”

“Don't mention it, I'll talk to you soon okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded, saying your goodbyes before ending the call and sitting on your bed for a while longer to process what had happened. It was a weight off your shoulders, of course, but you still had a nervous excitement about it.

The two weeks you had to finish out seemed to pass by in an instant. On your last day you were given a card and flowers, someone brought in a cake, and you found yourself wondering if anyone would even remember you in a week's time.

Then, before you knew it, you were getting ready to start your first shift at the Bear. It was the opening night, and you weren't sure if the nerves would ever end. The evening was all a blur, you felt like you were on autopilot, watching your own body in action. Richie took the helm much to your relief, and you just followed his lead. By the time you were putting your jacket on and getting ready to go home, you weren't sure you hadn't dreamed the whole thing.

The nerves really hit on your following shift. There wasn't the buzz of the opening night, the pressure that made you strangely calm. You spent a solid two hours getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror for a ridiculously long time. Your dress felt too short, even with your dark tights. Your makeup felt like it was too much and not enough. Eventually you had to leave, and tried to push your insecurities aside before they drove you crazy.

You arrived at the restaurant just in time for the staff dinner, taking your seat and taking off your jacket. You felt too nervous to eat, even though the food looked incredible. Instead, you opted to take a sip of water, glancing up and finding Carmy looking at you. He looked away when you met his eyes and you slowly set your cup down, adjusting your dress under the table.

While you forced yourself to eat something, you looked over to Richie as he launched into a story, finding yourself relaxing slightly. You were sure you felt eyes on you, but when you glanced at Carmy he wasn't looking at you. After dinner, the nerves struck again as everyone got ready for the service. You hung back for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Hey, feeling okay?”

You looked up and swallowed a breath as you saw Carmy walking over to you.

“Uh..yeah, yeah I'm good,” You nodded, clearing your throat. “Just the tiniest bit nervous. It's been a minute since I was in a job like this..I hope last night wasn't just a fluke.”

“It wasn't,” Carmy smiled, raising a brow. “Don't worry. You were great, really great. You can do this, just overthink it, alright?”

“Alright,” You smiled, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen slightly. “I won't.”

Service actually went well, at least for a while. You put on a mask of confidence and found yourself feeling better about your abilities as the evening went on. Until, that is, you were in the kitchen explaining an order update for a table when Richie burst in with a face like thunder and your stomach dropped.

“Hey,” He looked over to you and you already wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Did you seat table nine?”

“I..yes, I did,” You nodded, wondering what exactly the problem was, nothing springing to mind. “Why? Should I..not have?”

Richie sighed and ran his hand over his face, while you felt like you were back in school about to be ripped apart by a teacher.

“You seated them,” Richie nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Despite the fact that table nine is reserved for seven thirty, did you just decide not to do your job?”

“I..I'm so sorry,” You insisted, holding your hands up. “It was a mistake, I take complete responsibility for it, I'm so sorry.”

“You should be,” Richie sighed, shaking his head. “You made the mess, you clean it up. I can't fucking believe this.”

“I..” You stopped yourself as Richie held his hand up, trying to hold back your tears and cursing yourself for being so damn overly sensitive.

“No, you just need to stop,” Richie muttered. “I gotta think.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, looking over your shoulder as you felt a hand on your back.

“Don't worry,” Carmy murmured softly, meeting your eyes. “he's just a drama queen. You can do this, don't panic.”

You felt more eyes on you, some of the other chefs looking at you with surprise before they got back to work.

“Alright,” You nodded, taking a deep breath before looking back at Richie.

“I'll handle it.”

You left the kitchen, holding your head up high and leaving the mask aside.

After service was over, you slipped out to the back and sat on a low wall before pulling a back of cigarettes from your purse. A moment later you let out a long exhale and felt your body relax.

“Mind if I bum one of those?”

“Of course,” You smiled, holding the packet out to Carmy as he walked towards you. “Go for it.”

“Thanks,” Carmy nodded, taking the pack. “Didn't have you pegged as a smoker. No offense.”

“None taken,” You smiled, wrapping your arm around yourself. “I don't smoke so much anymore, just after a tough day. Stress reliever.”

Carmy nodded as he lit up a cigarette, handing you back the packet. “I get you. But I should warn you this job will have you back smoking full time, nature of it and all.”

You nodded as you took a drag of your cigarette, watching Carmy sit down beside you.

“Thanks for the heads up..and I'm sorry again for tonight.”

Carmy shook his head, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“Don't apologize, honestly. It was an honest mistake, it all got resolved. Richie just needs to have a moment now and then. He'll apologize in a day or two.”

“Can't wait,” You laughed softly, flicking your cigarette by your feet. “I really thought he was gonna kill me at one point. If I'm still here in a month I'll be amazed.”

“You'll still be here,” Carmy nudged you gently. “If I have my way anyway. Don't let Richie get in your head. You're good at what you do, embrace it.”

“Are you a chef or a life coach?” You teased, smiling to yourself. “I just get a little too in my head sometimes, overthink things.”

“Well join the club,” Carmy laughed softly as he shook his head. “We're all guilty of that. You just gotta push past it, I guess.”

“Hm, has that ever worked for you?” You asked, looking over to Carmy.

“Honestly?” Carmy met your gaze, his cigarette between his lips and his eyes sincere. “Not even once.”

“Hm, I suspected as much,” You smiled, looking away. “easier said than done, right?”

“Right,” Carmy murmured. “So maybe we just tell each other when we're overthinking. Get the thoughts out.”

“That sounds great, in theory,” You raised a brow, looking up for a moment with a smile. “Guess we'll just have to see how it goes in practice.”

A month later, you had started to settle into your role more, getting more comfortable and confident. There were a couple of slip ups here and there, but you always seemed to have Carmy in your corner. You got better at handling problems, and gradually started to build a bond with Richie, who you grew a soft spot for.

One particular Saturday, there was a plan to go for drinks after work. You hadn't been planning to go, but figured it would be nice to spend some time with everyone outside of work, in your normal clothes and without only being able to speak in short bursts.

Well, you and Carmy did tend to spend some time after work having a cigarette, sometimes it was twenty minutes, sometimes it was an hour. At first you would just talk about work, about the night's service, any annoying customers, but gradually you started to learn more. You found that you enjoyed just listening to him talk, when he would tell you little snippets of his life. It was never too much, too detailed, but enough for you to piece together a more clear picture of his life. You shared some details of your life, never anything too much, but enough that he seemed interested, asking you more and more questions.

After service that Saturday, you felt like you could sleep for a week but everyone else's excitement gave you a buzz. You got changed in the bathroom, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a simple red velvet top, stuffing your hostess dress into your bag. You felt more than ready for a drink, but there was one thing you had to do first.

“Didn't think you were coming out tonight.”

“For a drink or a smoke?” You asked, walking over to the wall and sitting beside Carmy. He was wearing jeans and a sweater but when you were so used to seeing him in his whites it made a difference.

“Either,” Carmy handed you a pack of cigarettes. “Not complaining though.”

“Didn't think you would,” You smiled, plucking a cigarette from the pack. “I told Syd I'd head to the bar in a few, they're all gonna go on ahead. Richie said first round on him.”

“I'll believe that when I see it,” Carmy scoffed, shaking his head. “What's your poison?”

“Arsenic,” You replied, looking over to Carm with a grin. “Ask an old question and get an old answer.”

“Alright, fair,” Carmy nodded, a smile on his face. “if I was to give you a drink right now what would you have?”

“Right now?” You looked up for a moment, thinking about it.

“Mm..probably like a whiskey sour.”

“You're such an old man,” Carm laughed as you rolled your eyes. “A whiskey sour?”

“It's a classic,” You lightly swatted his arm. “Don't knock it. We can't all be cool bros who drink fucking beer.”

“I never said I was having a beer,” Carmy raised a brow, holding his hand over his heart. “You're really gonna slap me with the bro label?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, taking a drag on your cigarette before looking over to Carm with a grin. “It's an old man's prerogative.”

You and Carm ended up arriving at the bar after everyone else had already finished half their first drinks. One of you had suggested walking to the bar, it didn't seem so far away at the time. On the way you'd stopped to get cigarettes, arguing over who was paying, Carmy beating you to the card machine by a split second.

The bar felt warm when you walked in, Carm's hand on your back as you removed your jacket not helping. He told you he'd order the drinks, disappearing before you could offer your card.

You joined the others, sitting down beside Richie and laughing as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his head on yours. By the time Carmy came over with your drinks you were caught up in Syds's story, taking a moment before looking over to Carm and mouthing a ‘thank you’.

As the night went on, you weren't sure how many drinks you had actually had, between your trips to the bar more glasses were placed in front of you, everyone forgetting who they actually owed. In the latest bar you'd all ended up in, you leaned against Carmy's shoulder, his arm around yours.

“Oh shit,” You heard Richie exclaim, slowly dragging your gaze over to him.

“They got karaoke!”

“Karaoke?” You grinned, looking up at Carmy. “Oh wait, you're probably too cool for that, huh bro?”

“Shut up,” Carmy rolled his eyes with a smile, lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We can't all get up and belt out Sinatra.”

“Hey,” You raised a brow. “My drinks may be old but my music taste is not. Get me the sight up sheet.”

The lights of the stage felt bright and hot on your already warm skin, but you felt a rush of adrenaline as everyone cheered and your eyes met Carm's.

“Hey,” You smiled, giving a little wave and trying not to cringe at the sound of your voice in the microphone. “I'm gonna sing a song that I love, and hope I don't butcher it entirely.”

You laughed softly as the Bear crowd cheered, someone giving you a whistle. The alcohol-induced confidence took over you as the music started, and you decided to just embrace the moment as you held the microphone.

‘All the lights in Miami begin to gleam

Ruby, blue and green, neon too

Everything looks better from above my king

Like aquamarine, ocean's blue

Ah ah ah ah

Cacciatore

La da da da da

Limousines

Ah ah ah ah

Ciao amore

La da da da da

Soft ice cream’

Any lingering nerves you had disappeared when you looked over to your table and heard cheers, your eyes meeting Carmy's for a moment. His gaze was totally focused on you, your heart beating faster as you continued the song, feeling a little more confident as you kept your gaze on him.

‘Catch me if you can

Working on my tan

Salvatore

Dying by the hand

Of a foreign man

Happily

Calling out my name

In the summer rain

Ciao amore

Salvatore can wait

Now it's time to eat

Soft ice cream’

You felt like you were in a daze as the song ended, smiling when there was a round of applause and making your way back to the table. Richie squeezed your shoulder and went to get you a drink, which you knew would have you fully committing to a hangover but you didn't care.

“You were incredible,” Carmy whispered in your ear, low and warm. “I had no idea you could sing.”

“Really?” You grinned, turning your head and meeting his eyes. “Well I guess I'm just full of surprises.”

A couple of hours later, you found yourself trying not to fall asleep in the back of an Uber, your head on Carmy's shoulder. You were drunk, but not so much that you had lost all sense of yourself. Instead you felt pleasantly buzzed and sleepy, wanting to fall into your bed and stay there forever.

“We're here,” Carm gently squeezed your shoulder, dragging you from your drifting thoughts. “Let's go.”

You let him help you out of the car, your arm linked with his as he led you to the door of your building. It took a minute to remember the code to the door, but you got there in the end, laughing to yourself when it worked.

“Now I just need to remember what number my apartment is,” You sighed as you pushed the button for the elevator, grinning as Carmy gave you a deadpan look. “Kidding, don't worry.”

When you reached your front door, you expected Carmy to give a polite excuse and leave, even though that was the last thing you wanted him to do. When he didn't, you tried not to look too pleased, holding the door open for him and taking a deep breath.

“Where's your kitchen?” Carm asked, turning to you as you closed the door. “I'll get you some water.”

“Just through there,” You smiled, gesturing to the door on your left. “I'm gonna go change.”

You went into your bedroom, leaving the door open and flicking on the light. You peeled off your clothes and dropped them into/close enough to the laundry hamper before heading to the chest of drawers and pulling open a drawer. You rifled through until you found a pair of simple blue pajamas, pulling on the t-shirt then the shorts.

When you turned around Carm was heading through the door, glancing around the room before placing the glass of water on your nightstand. He turned to look at you and you felt your heart leap from your chest.

“Stay,” You asked, or rather requested, feeling a little embarrassed by your firmness. “I mean..if you want, you can stay. It's pretty late.”

“Oh, uh..okay,” Carmy nodded, and you found yourself relaxing a little. “Sure. I can crash on the couch.”

“Don't be stupid,” You smiled, gesturing to your double, albeit a small double, bed. “It's alright, I don't bite.”

Carm looked concerned for a moment before he laughed and shook his head.

“Ah what the hell. It's one night.”

“Don't sound too offended to share my bed,” You teased, walking over to the nightstand and picking up the glass. “Not just anyone gets that privilege.”

“I'm flattered,” Carm laughed softly, rubbing his neck. “Just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You couldn't if you tried,” You insisted, gently touching his arm before sitting down on your bed. “Now hurry up, I'm exhausted.”

A couple of moments later, Carm was down to his shorts, and you tried not to stare. He turned out the light before you could hear him crossing the room. You slipped under the covers, your breath catching as you felt him get in beside you.

“Comfortable?” You asked, turning onto your side and resting your hand under your pillow.

“Yeah,” Carmy nodded, laying on his back. You could just about make him out in the dark, the lingering scent of his cologne, cigarettes and beer feeling heady and desirable. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” You murmured softly, taking a breath. “tonight was really fun..I can't really remember the last time I had a night out.”

“Me too,” Carm sighed softly, the mattress dipping slightly as he turned to face you. “I'll pay for it tomorrow, I feel the hangover creeping over the horizon.”

“That's the downside to getting older,” You shrugged softly. “You start to feel hungover before you've even gone to sleep.”

“Well you would know,” Carm retorted. “You old, old man.”

You gasped and reached out to lightly swat his arm, smiling as he laughed.

“That is uncalled for. I'm old, not old old.”

“Is there a difference?” Carm asked, his voice dropping low as he nestled into the pillow.

“Not really,” You murmured softly, your hand resting on the gap in the mattress. “But I stand by my actions.”

“Never had you pegged as violent,” Carm murmured, his hand resting close to yours. “Learning so much about you.”

“Hey I can't give away all my secrets,” You smiled softly, moving your hand ever so slightly closer to his. “I like being a little mysterious.”

“I like that,” Carmy laughed softly, his hand moving to lay gently on top of yours. “But I like everything about you so..hardly a surprise.”

You were quiet for a moment, a tired smile forming on your face.

“I like everything about you too,” You murmured softly, feeling like you could see Carm clearly even in the darkness.

“Hardly a surprise.”

He let out a gentle laugh, his thumb gently stroking over your hand. You felt your heart fly into your mouth, like you were suddenly wide awake and able to see through the alcohol-induced haze.

“We should get some sleep.”

The words had your heart dropping back into your stomach, your mouth turning dry.

“Uh..yeah, yeah we should,” You murmured, closing your eyes and trying not to feel so disappointed. “Sweet dreams.”

Before you knew it the mattress had dipped again, and his hand was gone from yours.

Carmy was already gone when you woke up the next morning, and you decided to try and put the memories of his hand on yours to rest.

For the next week at work, you felt like you weren't really yourself. Maybe it was subconscious, but you found yourself avoiding Carmy where possible. You sat at the opposite end of the table to him at family dinner, you stopped going for a smoke after work, and only really interacted with him in a professional manner. You could see he was confused by the change, and you hoped he would understand. In time you'd be like you were, you just needed time for your feelings to dissolve.

The following Saturday, you felt like you were going through the motions at work, flicking the customer service switch on when you needed to. Any time you'd gone into the kitchen Carm had looked at you with a smile and you had forced yourself to look away, guilt eating away at you.

Then it happened.

The worst possible situation you could find yourself in.

The front door had opened and you looked up from the reservations list to greet the latest visitors, your heart sinking as you saw who it was.

Your ex-boyfriend, someone you had very carefully avoided for months was walking towards you with a woman holding onto his arm and giggling. She looked beautiful, was probably a decent, kind person. You wondered how long it would be before she realized who exactly she was dating.

It took every ounce of self control you had to stay professional, to smile and greet the pair. The reservation was under her name, and you knew it was a purposely chosen move. He lived on the other side of town, there was no way he would just happen to come to the Bear if you didn't work there, you knew it.

After taking them to their table, you found Richie and told him you needed a moment, which he granted you. You went to the bathroom and locked yourself in a cubicle, leaning against the door.

He was out there, you couldn't avoid him. You imagined Richie getting their drinks, finding them to be a charming, loved up couple. Because your ex was great at making people think that. He was charming and witty and romantic, on the surface. Until you were alone with him.

You made your way back out to the floor, trying to focus on work. When you had to go into the kitchen you felt overwhelmed by the heat, the smells, the voices coming from every direction. You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. A moment later, you felt a hand on your back, your eyes opening and your heart calming as you met Carmy's gaze.

“Hey,” He smiled softly, raising a brow. “You good?”

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, wanting to touch his arm to ground yourself but forcing yourself not to. “I'm good.”

Back on the floor, you felt like you were in a daze. Any time you had to go to your ex's table it was like torture. He was perfectly polite, didn't give any indication he knew you, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

After you took another small break to compose yourself, you left the bathroom and let out a gasp as you found your ex in the vestibule. You wanted to run to the door, go back to the floor. As you went to leave however, he grabbed your wrist, and you wanted to scream.

“Just gonna leave without saying hello properly?”

“Let me go,” You snapped, looking back at him and trying to pull your wrist free from his grasp. “Now.”

“What's the rush?” Your ex grinned, and you felt sick. “Let's have a little catch up. This where you been since you ran off?”

“I said let me go,” You repeated, gasping when your ex stepped forward and shoved you against the wall. He kept his hand on your wrist, his other hand resting on the wall by your head.

“Not so hasty hm?” Your ex smiled, tilting his head. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I don't owe you anything!” You snapped, trying to push him away and failing. “Get off me or I'll scream.”

“Oh try it,” Your ex laughed. “Your theatrics never worked before and they won't work now. “Now, maybe you want to tell me why you left? I never did get an explanation, did I?”

You opened your mouth to scream, the sound immediately muffled as your ex's hand clamped over your mouth, a furious look in his eyes.

“Don't you fucking dare,” He snapped, his hand pressing harder. “Nobody disrespect me, certainly not you. Look at you, you're pathetic.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, panic setting in. You knew what he was capable of, and you wouldn't be able to go back onto the floor if he lost control and left bruises.

The main door began to push open, your ex immediately stepping back from you while you tried to quickly compose yourself. You felt a sense of relief when Richie walked in, your heart racing as you spotted Carmy walk in behind him.

“Everything okay?” Richie asked, looking over to you. “You were gone a while,” He looked over to your ex, skeptically, before looking back to you. “Just wanted to see if you were good to get back out.”

“Yes,” You nodded, taking a deep breath and avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. “Apologies, chef. I'll head back out.”

“She will in a second,” Your ex smiled, reaching out to grab your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin. “We're old friends, just catching up.”

“Well I have to go,” You murmured, trying to subtly free yourself and feeling fresh tears well up as your ex tightened his grip. “So..”

“Right,” Richie nodded, his eyes on your ex while you briefly met Carmy's gaze. “I'll escort you back to your table, sir.”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Your ex nodded, pulling you closer to him. “We just have some things to discuss.”

“Please don't do this,” You muttered, tears filling your vision, trying to pull your wrist free as your ex grabbed your arm firmly.

“Hey,” You heard Carmy's voice and looked down at the ground, trying to compose yourself. “I need my staff to get back to work, and I need you to get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

“Fuck yes cousin,” Richie nodded. “He's out.”

“I don't think so,” Your ex laughed, squeezing your arm harder. “I'm a paying customer, show some respect.”

“Show some respect?” Carmy repeated, a harsh edge in his voice. “I'm giving you a chance to leave quietly, I suggest you take it.”

“Or what?” Your ex smirked, stepping closer to you. “I'll leave when I want. Like I said, we're catching up.”

“That's it,” Carmy sighed, stepping closer. “Get the fuck out of my restaurant right now before I have you forcibly removed.”

You let out a gasp as you were pushed back against the wall, everything happening in a blur. You could hear Carm and Richie saying something as they grabbed your ex and pulled him off you. Richie hauled him outside before Carmy's hand was in yours, guiding you out into the restaurant and through the kitchen, the two of you finally ending up in his office.

“Sit down,” Carm gestured to the desk chair. “I'll go get you some water.”

“No,” You insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please. Don't leave me alone.”

Carm was quiet for a moment before he nodded, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, clinging to him as you tried to stop your tears to no avail.

You weren't sure how much time passed, but before you knew it it was closing time. You assured Carm you were okay before you went to help Richie out front, giving him a nod as he gave you a concerned look.

When it came time to leave, you clutched your keys tightly in your hand, making your way to your car and taking a deep breath. You felt like you couldn't breathe properly until you arrived back home and checked every room. Your ex didn't know where you lived, but it didn't stop you feeling a little paranoid.

After getting ready for bed, you decided to stay up a little longer, settling on the couch to watch a movie. While you were scrolling through Netflix your phone rang, and the brief panic that hit you subsided when you saw it was Carmy calling you.

“Hey,” You smiled softly as you answered, picking up one of the cushions and holding it against you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good,” Carm replied, and you could swear you heard traffic in the background. “Could you let me into your building? I didn't want to buzz, just in case.”

“Oh,” You glanced to the door before slowly standing up. “Uh..yeah, yeah just give me a second.”

You set the cushion down and walked to the door, pushing the button to open the door.

“Come on up, I'll see you in a second.”

You ended the call, taking a step back from the door and clutching your phone. When there was a knock at your door you took a second before opening it.

“Hey, come in,” You stepped aside, giving a quick glance out to the hall before closing the door and turning to Carmy.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Of course,” Carm nodded, rubbing his cheek. “I uh..I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was going to offer you ride home but I thought I might be being too much and you would be uncomfortable which is fair then I couldn't stop thinking about you and I thought I should-”

You held up your hand with a smile, tilting your head slightly.

“I'm glad you're here. I probably would have ended up calling you anyway so..it's fine. I'm just trying to find a movie, I'm open to suggestions.”

An hour later, you were sitting on the couch with your head on Carm's shoulder, his arm around your waist. You were only half focused on the movie, too busy enjoying Carm's presence after isolating yourself for a week. Cuddling up to him wouldn't help you dissolve your feelings but you were willing to overlook that, given recent events.

“Damn,” Carm murmured softly, his hand gently stroking your waist. “I guess they'll have to take down the government after all.”

“What?” You raised a brow, looking over to him.

“I knew you weren't paying attention,” Carmy laughed softly, looking at you with a grin.

“Oh shut up,” You rolled your eyes playfully. “it's not my fault it can't hold my attention. Got other things on my mind.”

“Yeah,” Carm nodded, clearing his throat and looking up for a moment. “I uh..I wanted to ask, how are you feeling after..after tonight?”

You thought about it for a moment, looking over to the TV and letting out a soft sigh.

“I feel like it was some kind of surreal dream. I don't hear so much as a whisper for months, almost a year, then suddenly he's just there..but I really appreciate what you did,” You looked back to Carmy, gently touching his arm. “I hate that you had to get involved in my drama but..thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Carm looked back to you. “I wasn't going to stand back and let it happen. You don't deserve to be treated like that. You deserve..I don't know, the universe.”

“The universe?” You repeated, smiling softly. “That's a lot to handle but..if I'm deserving of it I guess I'll learn to handle the responsibility.”

“That's my girl,” Carm smiled, and you felt a knot twist in your stomach at how much the words made your heart leap. “You deserve it and more.”

“Could you..could you not say that?” You murmured softly, taking a deep breath and feeling guilty when Carm immediately looked like he'd regretted everything he'd ever done.

“It wasn't bad, I just..I want you to say those things but I also don't because it's just going to give me more feelings for you and I really can't even handle the ones I already have so..”

“You have feelings for me,” Carm murmured softly, and you weren't sure whether it was a question or a statement, looking away from him. “I..I had no idea. I mean, I didn't think you hated me but..you were so distant this week I thought I'd done something to you.”

“No, never,” You insisted, trying not to cry at how badly you felt you were handling the situation. “I just thought I could get rid of my feelings if I wasn't around you so much, that's all.”

“Why didn't you just tell me?” Carm asked softly, his hand on your waist feeling more prominent. “Am I so unapproachable? Oh god, am I unapproachable? That's it isn't it? You thought I would like flip out or something, and I swear I never would, not at you, ever.”

“I know,” You nodded, looking back at him. “I just..I didn't want to make things awkward. I'm not in high school, I don't want to act like I am. I may as well have gotten Syd to pass you a note from me, check the box if you like me kinda vibe.”

“Don't you want to know if I would have ticked the box?” Carm asked, his tone gentle. “Because I would have. Every time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and looking up.

“Damn, guess I should have sent you the none then hm?”

“Well there's still time,” Carm smiled as you looked back at him. “Though I can't guarantee Syd wouldn't just chuck it in the trash. You know when you started she told me not to fall in love with you because the restaurant needs you more than I do?”

“Good thing you didn't then,” You smiled, leaning in a little closer and resting your hand on Carm's cheek. “I can stay.”

You leaned in and closed the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hesitated for a moment before kissing you back, surging forward.

Your arms wrapped around Carm's neck as he eased you onto your back, the kiss deepening. All the stress of the evening melted away as you felt Carm touch you carefully, smiling into the kiss as you reached for the hem of his white t-shirt and tugged it up.

It didn't like long to have Carm completely stripped, a frown on his face as he looked at you.

“Well this isn't a fair trade.”

“No?” You smiled, picking at your pajama top. “ Well I'm not stopping you leveling the field.”

It took a little longer for you to be stripped, your breath catching in your throat as Carm took his time removing your pajamas, leaving a trail of kisses on your skin as he did. You felt exposed, laying on the couch in your deeply unsexy mismatched bra and panties, but in the most wonderful way.

“Still not quite even,” You smiled softly, reaching out to gently stroke Carm's cheek and beaming when he leaned down to kiss you, his hand gripping your waist.

“You're right,” Carm murmured softly, pulling back and meeting your eyes. “It's not fair.”

He sat back, his hand slowly moving down to grip the waistband of your panties. You kept your eyes on him as he slowly peeled them down your thighs, stopping after a moment.

“Close enough.” He grinned,his hands moving to your thighs and lifting them up. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him move between your legs, closing your eyes as he slowly spread your legs, feeling the material of your panties rub against your leg.

“Oh god,” You breathed as you felt Carm lick a stripe along your already soaked folds, his hands gripping your thighs and holding you in place. His movements were achingly slow as he licked you, one of his hands slowly moving along your thigh.

It had been a long while since you'd felt so good, a wave slowly building in your stomach. Any urge to beg for more was dissolved as you felt Carm's finger gently sweep across your entrance, his tongue swirling your clit. You couldn't focus on anything, your hand moving to his curls as he eased his finger into your warm entrance, your eyes clenching shut as moans tumbled from your lips.

By the time he added a second finger you felt like you were ready to fall apart, his tongue moving slowly but precisely, exactly where you needed without having to tell him.

“Oh, fuck,” You moaned as you felt yourself get closer to the edge, your free hand clamping over your forehead. “Please..I..ohh my god..”

You felt your eyes roll back into your head, your breath catching in your throat as you came, feeling like you could see stars.

You wasted no time in pulling Carm up to you, tasting yourself on his lips and letting out a moan at the sensation. He pulled at your bra straps, tugging down your bra and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Please,” You murmured against his lips, your forehead hot against his. “Fuck me, now, please..”

“Are you sure?” Carm asked, giving you another kiss as he moved his hand down between your legs, a moan escaping you as he touched your sensitive pussy.

“We can go to your bed, or wait, or..”

“Carm,” You breathed, opening your eyes and looking at him. “Please..I can't wait. I'm on the pill, it's fine, just..please.”

He met your gaze, a look in his eyes you hadn't seen before that had you soaked even more instantly.

“Use your words,” He murmured softly, two fingers pushing back into you as you moaned. “What does my girl want?”

“Oh god,” You groaned, wanting to stay in the moment forever. “I want..I want you to fuck me, now.”

“Anything my girl wants,” Carm grinned, slowly easing his fingers out of you and replacing them with his thick cock, another moan escaping you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs hooked around his waist, wanting him as close as possible.

You felt like everything fell away around you as Carm moved slowly, getting you used to the feel of him, before he was pulling you up into his lap, his lips wrapping around your hard nipple as your nails dug into your shoulders, his hands on your waist encouraging you to set the pace.

By the time the two of you were laying on the couch, catching your breath with your arms lazily draped around each other, you wondered when you'd last been so unbearably happy.

“I'll understand if you immediately run away when I say this,” You looked over to Carm with a smile. “But.

I love you.”

He looked over to you, a wide smile on his face as he moved closer, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist.

“I love you too. Which is a shame, I guess. Gotta find a new hostess now.”

“Yeah, sucks to be you,” You grinned, moving your hand into Carm's hair. “Though before you fire me could you help me fulfill this little fantasy I have of fucking my boss at work?”

“I guess I could,” Carm grinned, leaning in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let's get in some more practice shall we?”

#the bear #the bear 🐻#the bear fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #request #we got there eventually

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conundrumoftime · 2 months ago

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Okay so look, here is why I want Celeborn in TROP as soon as he can feasibly get there

I know that many people feel he shouldn't turn up yet because at the moment Galadriel is still traumatised, brittle and emotionally entangled with Sauron. I want him to turn up now precisely because Galadriel is traumatised, brittle and emotionally entangled with Sauron.

I do not want him to swoop in and instantly save her from that, to be clear. I do not want him to be her reward for getting through it. I want him to turn up as an almost-stranger to a wife he's been away from for eight hundred years and see her now, see her as she is, hairtrigger temper and trauma and grief and unresolved situationship with Satan's Little Helper and all. I want his love for her to include all of that.

(Because! They don't have to stay together! Galadriel's family is full of couples who lived out their marriages on separate continents due to what I'll just briefly gloss over as Some Significant Ideological Disagreements. We know they end up together in Lothlórien but the characters have not read Lord of the Rings!)

I want him to see her tempted by power, and know that whatever they have later is built on that kind of understanding of what she wants and who she is and what she nearly did - and what she might still do. I want Sauron to still be offering her that in their 3000-year-long mind battle and for her to still be tempted by it and for Celeborn to know, to fully know, maybe to have it as an unspoken pain between them, maybe to be the only person she can trust to tell.

I do not want them to sit around holding hands and smiling gently at each other, yay missing husband's back hearts and flowers THE END. I want them to argue. I want those centuries of separation to matter. I want hurt feelings and pain and grief turned to anger, and to see how they navigate through that - why they navigate through that.

I want Sauron to try a divide-and-conquer approach with the two of them by showing Celeborn that raft-vision of Galadriel as his queen, and for Celeborn to find himself horrified by it and loving her despite it, and - perhaps! - really quite intensely turned on by the thought of it, too.*

I want them to rebuild that marriage, not just to resume it like they were never even apart. I want it to be worth rebuilding. I want him to love her, and not love the perfect past-temptation no-longer-fighty image of her that angry male Peter Jackson fans on Twitter have told me she is Supposed To Be - I want him to love this Galadriel, this broken and grieving and furious one, this one that still refers to Sauron as 'Halbrand' sometimes, this one who's on Numenor's list of Prisoners Who Haven't Yet Finished Their Sentence For Causing Sedition when Pharazôn turns up ("Did you actually - you know what, never mind, tell me later"). I want him to love her.

---

(* one of my Silmarillion incomplete draft fics is Thingol trying to warn Celeborn away from her by bringing up stories about her from the Helcaraxë, "well she looks all happy and peaceful mingling with our court now but can you imagine her drenched head to foot in the blood of a bear she just killed?", only Celeborn is the exact opposite of put off by this. "No! That's terrible! I must go and speak to her about it immediately in private and get all the details, just to assure myself about how terrible it was.")

#rings of power #celeborn #galadriel #galadriel x celeborn #i will defend other people's rights to love fluffy uncomplicated HEA romance until the end of time! but it is not my thing

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planetpedri · 10 days ago

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Something great 𖦹 Pepe Martí

Summary: Pepe thought making your first date special by going to an ice rink—something you loved to do, would be a great idea. The only problem was that he had no clue how to ice skate.

Word count: 1.28k

Disclaimer/s: fluff, reader is Christian Mansell’s sister so this is a brothers best friend type ^_^ hella banter and teasing

Bea speaks! THIS MAY BE IT. this may be my favorite plot.

The sharp winter wind that hit your face was unwelcome, but you accepted it. Why? Because you were on a date with the boy you’d had a crush on since you were young. Your brother’s best friend, which, Chris was not all that happy about.. but he accepted it. Pepe wouldn’t tell you, but the ice skating idea was partially Chris’s idea.

Nimbly tying your skates laces, you tilt your head to look at the tan boy. He was nervous, which you were as well, but he seemed nervous for something else.

“You okay?” You question, nudging his shoulder lightly.

Struggling to tie his laces, his hands shaking slightly, Pepe exhales lowly. “Yeah. Yeah.. How hard can this be? I mean, it’s basically just sliding, right? People slide all the time, I slide all the time.” His eyes flicker to the ice warily, trying to swallow back his nerves.

Grinning at him, you nod slowly. “Sliding.. Righttt.. Definitely, exactly what skating is.” Looking over his concerned expression, it dawns on you. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, he shrugs slightly. “Well, uh—no.. but,” he clears his throat and straighten up, “how hard can it be? I race going hundreds of kilometers an hour all the time. Balance, speed, same concept?”

Was be being serious?

A look of disbelief, mixed with amusement forms on your face. “Right. Sure. Because driving has so much in common with two things blades.”

Pepe’s eyes narrow into a mocking scowl. “You’re doubting my skills, is that it? I’m very offended, I brought you here to impress you, y’know? And you’re mocking me.” His gloved hand clutches his coat tightly, adding to his dramatics.

Rolling your eyes, you stand up and offer out your hand. “Oh, I have so much faith in you. I cannot wait to see your impressive skills. Just, don’t fall in the first five seconds and I’ll be very impressed!” Pepe laughs, accepting your hand.

Stepping onto the rink, you begin to skate to the side, letting go of his hand for a split second. When Pepe got onto the ice, he was instantly wobbling, his arms waving about frantically. You couldn’t help but giggle as you skated back to his side and his arm instantly gripped onto your coat.

If his face wasn’t already flushed from the bitter cold, it was definitely flushed now. “Okay. Definitely harder than I imagined.” He huffs out breathlessly.

Shrugging, you place your hand over his. Even through the soft gloves he wore, Pepe’s skin was still heating up at your gentle touch. “Come on speedy. You’ve got this.” You whisper encouragingly, your lips curling upwards—barely holding back a laugh.

“So—“ You almost let go of him, but Pepe’s eyes shoot wide in panic.

His grip tightens on your arm, his other hand clasping over yours. “Wait! Wait! Don’t let go.. not yet. I’m just.. I need to collect my bearings.”

Your eyebrow lifts doubtfully. “You’re gripping my arm like your life depends on it.. seems like you need to gather a little more than just your bearings.”

Slowly moving alongside the edge of the barrier, Pepe glances at you with a sheepish grin. ��Uh, because it does? One wrong move and im falling and landing on these skates and well—“

“Okay. That’s… dark.” You laugh lightly, “just relax, bend your knees a little and keep your weight forward, and—“

Before you could finished, Pepe tries to glide forward and stumbles. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you pull him back, stabilizing the both of you.

“Alright, maybe just stick to standing for now.”

Pepe was definitely blushing. This was supposed to be a cute, fun date but, instead he was making a fool of himself. “I’m actually really skilled at this, I’m just holding back for your sake. Don’t want to embarrass you and all that stuff.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

You laugh, shaking your head. “So generous of you, Pep.” The nickname slides off your tongue so easily, you don’t even catch it. Pepe does though, and his stomach flips.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” You smile, nodding towards the barrier, “just keep your hand by that.”

Moving behind him, gently holding his forearms arms to guide him, Pepe slowly skates forward. He was wobbly at first, but eventually got the hang of it, his confidence growing more and more with every inch.

Excitement flashes in his eyes, “hey! Look! I’m doing it! I’m—“

Pepe trips over his own feet, his skates butting into the ice. His hand goes to grab you for balance, but the momentum just pulls them down. Your heart drops the second you feel your balance shift forward.

Landing with a soft thump, you burst into laughter. The loud, unapologetic laughter only makes Pepe groan in embarrassment.

Letting go of you, his hands come up to cover his face. The sight was endearing to you, finding it quite adorable. “Oh God.” He grumbles, “this is it. This is the moment you tell your brother why you never want to see me again.”

Still giggling, your eyes soften as you look down at him. “Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my year—of well, anything ever.” You pause, wondering if some teasing would be appropriate for his embarrassed state.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush this much.”

Moving this fingers to peek at her, “this is not the way I pictured our first date going. This is a mess.”

Smiling adoringly at him, you shake your head in disagreement. “I think it’s perfect.”

Shifting one hand to hold yourself table against the cold ice, you brush a stray strand out of your face. You falter, the both of you realizing just how close you are.

Pepe’s breath hitches in his throat when your head dips only an inch towards him. The tension flowing between you could be cut with a knife. A heated, palpable, tension that had Pepe’s eyes flickering around your face, falling to your lips and back up to your eyes with a nervous, but hopeful look.

Without skipping a beat, Pepe leans up just enough for his lips to hover over hers, his eyes still watching you carefully. When your eyes begin to flutter shut, Pepe takes that as his sign and he closes the short distance.

Your lips move in sink. It’s slow and soft and full of a million different emotions. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest. Despite the freezing outdoor weather, you felt warm. Your lips on fire as they moved against Pepe’s.

When you both finally separate, Pepe’s head falls back against the ice lightly. His face is somehow redder, but you just grin widely.

“Are you going to blame that on the ice, too?” You tease, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Pepe chuckles, your words only worsening his flustered state. “No.” He smiles, eyes disappearing behind his squint. “That one I definitely meant to do.”

Humming, your head tilts to the side as you smirk. “Good. Because, that—that was definitely my favorite part of the date.”

Both of you fall into a short laughter before you roll off of him. Pepe tries to stand and help you up, but stumbles again. Luckily, your reflexes kicked in and you catch him before you two fall again.

Grinning sheepishly, Pepe rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, new goal: stay upright for one whole minute.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, as if he’d said something outrageous. “Baby steps, Pepe. Baby steps..”

The boys eyes roll. “Funny.” He takes your hand in his, squeezing it once. “I definitely got it now.”

“We’ll see about that…”

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pepe posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @spidybaby @n0vazsq @sakashq @h4vertzz @joaoflms

#pepe marti #pepe marti imagine #pepe marti one shot #pepe marti fluff #pepe mart fanfic #pepe marti x y/n #pepe marti x you #pepe marti x reader #pepe martí #blurb #fanfic #fluff #formula two #formula 2 #f2 #campos racing #red bull racing

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makenoplans · 1 year ago

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all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #bg3 party banter #party banter

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