#the issue of race came up naturally

[lovecuprite]

Kinktober Day 11 - Virginity Loss with Kento Nanami

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (protected), loss of virginity, oral (reader receiving), fingering, age gap (legal - reader is college age), soft nanami

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 10k (bear with me here, it’s slow)

a/n: i apologise in advance for how soft this is, it is sickeningly sweet and a heads up, the writing style of this is a little different to some of the prior ones i've posted here...it's less horny smut in the way its written and more wordy? so if this one's not for you, it's all good, sometimes i just like to mix it up <333

The cool October air nipped at your bare skin as you stood out front of the crowded house, your angel wings from your costume rustling softly in the breeze. The party was fun, but it was getting late, and getting home was an issue. 

The problem was, you couldn't call your dad. He'd have too many questions, too many concerns about why you were out so late. Besides, the revealing nature of your outfit wouldn't have gone unnoticed, and you weren't in the mood to listen to a lecture.

Your phone hovered in your hand, a name already highlighted. Nanami Kento. Your dad's best friend, a reliable, quiet man you'd known for a couple years. He was the safest option honestly and maybe a part of you was pleased with the notion of calling him, of seeing him after the night's festivities. There had always been something about the way Nanami carried himself-so composed, so controlled, it left you curious.

You took one deep breath before pressing the call button. It rang only twice before his smooth steady voice came through the line. "Are you alright?" he asked instantly, as though he'd sensed something was wrong, just from seeing your number at this time. 

"I'm fine," you quickly assured him. "It's just. I'm at a party, and it's gotten late. I need a ride, and I really can't call my dad soo….”

There was a moment of silence, stretching the pause to its limits as he finally replied. "Text me the address. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Waiting around for fifteen minutes in the cold had your mind racing. All you could do was hope he wouldn't say too much about your outfit, a white dress a little too short, with wings fastened to your back and a halo precariously balanced on your head. It had drawn enough attention at the party already, though you'd shrugged it off with nervous laughter. Nanami was an altogether different story, though, and the thought of him looking at you like this made you feel nervous.

Sure enough, in exactly fifteen minutes, Nanami's black car pulled up in front of the house. You quickly headed towards it, heels clicking across the pavement. As soon as you opened the passenger door and slid inside, his eyes raked over you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said softly, trying not to meet his gaze as you buckled yourself in.

But Nanami's silence was heavy, and you could almost feel the weight of his stare. He didn't say anything right away, eyes staying fixed on your outfit-the dress riding high on your thighs, the soft glow of your wings innocent. His jaw tightened slightly, a barely perceptible movement, but you noticed it.

"Of course," he finally replied, his voice gruffer than usual, with an edge to it. "But that's quite the costume."

You felt shy under his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "It's just a Halloween costume. You know, harmless fun."

"Harmless fun," he repeated, his eyes darting back to the road as he shifted the car into drive. But the way he said it-twisted something in your stomach, a tension building between you impossible to ignore.

Nanami didn't look away from the road, but his thoughts were far from innocent. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his best friend's daughter, in a dress that didn't leave much to his imagination. Yet, there was something outright magnetic in the way you looked tonight-the way soft fabric clung to your body, pure white of an angel costume contrasting sharply with the rising inferno inside him.

He gripped the wheel a little harder, his knuckles white. What was wrong with him? You were innocent, too young for him- but the way you moved, the way you shifted in your seat as if aware of how you were making him feel, it stirred something primal in him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked way too calmly, trying to distract himself.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was good. Just got too late, and well, you know."

He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the smooth skin of your legs and then up to your face, lit up in a soft glow from the passing streetlights. He tried to keep a clear head, act like he wasn’t losing his mind over being this close in proximity to you. It didn't help that the scent of your perfume lingered in the air between you, sweet and inviting.

"Your dad doesn't know you're dressed like this," he said-half a question, half a statement of fact.

You shook your head. "No… he wouldn't exactly approve." There was a little, nervous laugh in your voice.

Nanami grunted in response. "He wouldn't."

The tension between you both grew thicker, heavy with unspoken emotion until it was almost palpable in the cramped interior of the car. Nanami couldn't clear his head. What would your father think if he knew how hard it was for Nanami to keep his thoughts pure? How hard it was to pretend the sight of you, in that tight little dress, hadn't set something off inside him?

You shifted in your seat again, the hem of your dress rose just a little higher on your thighs to catch Nanami's attention yet again as he had to adjust in his seat.

The car hummed on silently, but it was obvious that he was trying to keep his cool, trying to ignore the pull between you both, and for some reason, you decided not to make it easy for him.

You shifted a bit in your seat, letting your legs cross; the hem of your skirt inched up just a bit more. You caught the slightest tensing of Nanami's jaw out of the corner of your eye, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on the road.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile. "You know," you said softly, a teasing edge creeping into your tone, "I've never seen you this quiet. You always seem so assured."

Nanami's brow furrowed and he let out a short breath. "It's late," he replied; the words were clipped, strained as if he wanted to force the conversation into something normal.

You weren't buying it. His body language betrayed him-tension in the posture of his body spoke volumes his words never did. You knew with just a little more prodding-a test of the waters-he'd crack.

You lifted a casual hand to your head to adjust your halo headband, your fingers delving through your hair to do so, before you laid your hand on your thigh, letting the fingers linger as you shifted again, angling yourself slightly toward him.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said, your voice soft and laced with something a little too sweet, a little too insinuating. "I guess I could've called someone else, but… I wanted you to be the one."

Nanami's hold on the wheel stiffened further, and you could almost hear the battle raging inside him. His eyes flickered sideways to you, only for a moment, before snapping back to the road.

“Really?" he growled, almost inaudible, the tone low, a little threatening.

You nodded, biting your lip as you leaned closer, your hand lightly brushing his arm as you adjusted once more. "Yeah… I feel safe with you.”

There it was, the first gap in his well-considered armour. He said nothing for a moment. It was as if every unspoken word weighed the air inside the car down and pressed on both of you with its unspoken weight.

Then, wordlessly, instead of turning down the street that would lead to your house, he turned left and went in the opposite direction. You blinked once or twice, peering out of the window just to confirm that he wasn't actually getting onto your usual route.

"Um. my house is the other way," you said light, though curious.

Nanami remained silent for another beat as the car sped through the quiet, dimly lit streets. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice rougher than before.

"I know."

Your heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down your spine at the implication: He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. And instead of taking you home, he was detouring off course on purpose. A decision he had made despite the battle that had raged in his brain.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though the answer was just starting to formulate in your mind.

"My place." Nanami replied in a low voice, very nearly too calm.

Of course his words only had one meaning, and you paused for a second, the situation settling into your consciousness. It wasn't a decision he had only just now considered. He had thought about this, about you—and the barrier he'd held up for so long was starting to crack.

A part of you knew this might have crossed the line, a line neither of you could come back from. In the silence of the car, though, that pull between you became impossible to ignore.

You swallowed as your heart raced in your chest, shifting slightly in your seat as his words sank in. "Your place… are you sure?"

Nanami's grip on the steering wheel loosened, but only for a moment as he let a slow, conscious breath escape. He cast a look in your direction then, something dark in his gaze-a warning, and yet, something deeper, something feral. "No," he admitted in a low voice with a trace of growl. "But I'm doing it anyway."

His place. He was taking you there, and implications that sent your tummy fluttering into somersaults of excitement and uncertainty when he said so. There was no going back once you crossed this threshold.

The time quickly passed and it wasn’t long before the soft hum of the engine stopped, and all that could be heard was your quickened breathing.

Nanami turned to you; his eyes locked with yours. In them was an unspoken question. He wasn't forcing you; this was something you had to step into on your own volition.

You nodded at him and he nodded slightly in return before moving to open the car door for you. His hand was soft and warm in yours as he guided you out. He took you inside and towards the lift. The silence between you was evident, but not uncomfortable. It was charged, alive with possibilities neither of you could deny any more.

As the lift opened onto his floor, Nanami escorted you down the silent hall to his apartment. His steps were sure, steady, but you could feel the tension emanating off of him like a coiled spring ready to snap. He hastily unlocked the door before gesturing you inside.

You stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you into the quiet, dimly lit space. Nanami's apartment was sleek, minimalist, much like the man himself-clean lines, understated elegance. It was intimate, private, and the thought of being alone with him here made your skin tingle.

You turned toward him, soft light from the city filtering in through the windows and casting shadows across his face. He watched you once more, his eyes dark and intense. A silent war inside himself as he struggled to keep his restraint.

"You can still change your mind," he said, low and rough. "Sleep in the spare bedroom- and I won't push this any further."

Your eyes ran across his face, before meeting his gaze. Hal of you screamed to close the distance between the two of you, whilst the other half screamed to sleep in the spare bedroom and never look back on this moment.

But this wasn't about lust or desire; this was crossing a line, changing the dynamic between you both forever, but one you were ready to.

You leaned in towards him, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. You took note of the quick rise and fall of his chest and the fast beating of his heart under your fingertips. His eyes darkened, his control slipping just that little bit more as he watched you.

"I'm not changing my mind," you whispered softly, resolutely. "I want this."

Nanami exhaled sharply, the last thread of restraint snapping as he closed the remaining distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch just as gentle as you’d expected.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin, as if giving you one final chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

With a low growl, Nanami's lips finally crashed into yours. He kissed you passionately as if he had been holding back far too long. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as he pressed your body flush against his, trying to get as physically close to you as possible.

The kiss deepened, and all the tension and desire that had built between you finally exploded in a rush of heat and sensation. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you succumbed to the moment, to him.

One of his hands had clutched your waist as he leaned you up against the wall, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was quickly heating up; everything was going so fast. And though you'd expected it, you suddenly became nervous, not knowing what to do, so you couldn't help but blurt out…

“I’m a virgin-”

Nanami froze when you uttered those words, the revelation hanging in the air like a weight that neither of you could ignore. His lips lingered on yours, but the urgency that had driven his actions moments before seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden stillness. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression torn, conflicted. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the tension coiling tighter inside him.

He should stop. He knows that.

"You're a virgin," he repeated softly, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the situation. The responsibility of what this meant sank in, his protective instincts roaring louder than his desire. The weight of his role in your life—being your father's best friend, older, more experienced—should have been enough to make him back away, to put distance between you for your own good.

But it didn’t.

Despite everything, despite knowing he should be the responsible one and walk away, the pull he felt toward you was undeniable. His thumb gently traced the outline of your jaw, the conflict clear in his eyes as they searched yours. There was something about you—your trust, your innocence—that stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t easily shake off.

"I shouldn't.," he growled low and hoarse, yet with an edge, a residual hunger he could not hide. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply as if trying to draw himself back in.

But when he opened them again, his gaze darkened, the tension between you flaring back to life. You saw the conflict, the war between what he knew was right and what he wanted more than anything in that moment.

"I-” Nanami continued, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch still gentle despite the storm raging within him. "This changes everything."

You could feel the restraint, the repression, but you could also feel the resolve slipping. He was a man who prided himself on control, on doing the right thing-but right now, you were making him question all of that.

"I know it does," you whispered, stepping closer, your body brushing against his in a way that made his breath hitch. "But I trust you. I want this… I want you."

Your words seemed to cut through to him, and for a long moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, something neither of you could deny any longer.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "If we do this," he said quietly, his voice low, serious, "There’s no going back. I need you to be sure. This is… not something I can take lightly."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his eyes searching yours one last time, giving you the opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You met his gaze, your hand resting over his heart, feeling its rapid thrum beneath your palm.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice steady, filled with the weight of the decision you had already made.

The last bit of tension left Nanami’s shoulders as he closed the distance between you again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity. But this time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if savouring every moment, every taste of you. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, but there was no rush, no urgency. He was letting you lead, letting you set the pace.

As his hands moved over your body, exploring with careful restraint, it was clear he was holding back. Despite the fire between you, despite the overwhelming desire, he was still thinking of you, still making sure you felt safe, cherished, in this moment.

Nanami’s heart raced as he led you to his bedroom, the very act feeling surreal. Every step was imbued with a sense of gravity, as though the weight of the moment hung in the air around you, thickening with anticipation and vulnerability. He was acutely aware of the fabric of your outfit, how it hugged your curves and accentuated your delicate features, your halo headband adding to the angelic aura that surrounded you. It was intoxicating, and he felt the primal urge to claim you, to make you his.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing against the walls as the city lights filtered in through the curtains. Nanami could hardly breathe as he turned to face you, taking in the sight of you standing there—innocent yet undeniably alluring, a vision that pulled at the very edges of his sanity. You looked like something out of a dream, and he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. The conflict within him raged on, and yet, as he looked at you—his angel—he couldn't shake the selfish longing that consumed him. Despite knowing he didn’t deserve to indulge in this, he found himself wanting you more than anything else in that moment.

As you stood there, your gaze unwavering, your confidence shining through your innocence, it was clear you were ready to embrace whatever was to come. Nanami took a deep breath, pushing the guilt aside. He didn’t want to be the one to hold back your desires. Not when you were offering him a chance to explore this connection.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to frame your face. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if committing the moment to memory. The softness of your skin beneath his touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

"Breathtaking," he whispered again, almost reverently. The weight of those words held true as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. The hesitation melted away, and he captured your mouth with his again, deepening the kiss with a fervour that spoke of his hunger, of his desire to claim you in every way possible.

His hands roamed over your waist, trailing down to your hips, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer. There was a desperation in his touch now, a need to feel every inch of you pressed against him. He wanted to memorise the way you felt, the way your body fit perfectly against his, like you were made for him.

When he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, there was a fire in his gaze that reflected the storm within him. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice a low rumble, though he knew what your answer would be. Deep down, he wanted to hear it, wanted the reassurance that you were truly ready to take this step with him.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with a confidence that both excited and terrified him.

With that, Nanami leaned in again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his longing into it. It was both gentle and consuming, a collision of desire and tenderness that left you breathless. The world outside faded away as he lost himself in the sensation of you—the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on.

As he guided you back onto the bed, he felt the weight of his own insecurities creep back in. He was an older man, your father’s best friend, someone who was supposed to protect you, not take advantage of your trust. But looking at you, lost in the moment, an angel who was willing to give herself to him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was a gift, a chance to experience something beautiful with you, and he would be damned if he let that go.

There was a sense of awe in him as he looked at you, your innocence and trust in him making him feel both powerful and vulnerable. This was different from anything he had ever experienced before, and it left him unsure of how to proceed.

He leaned over you, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle. "I promise to take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and filled with the sincerity of his intent.

You smiled up at him, your trust in him shining through your eyes. "I know," you replied, your voice soft and confident.

Nanami's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you lying beneath him, the white dress clinging to you. The fabric seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, accentuating your delicate features and the innocence that radiated from you. His heart swelled with a mix of desire and reverence, knowing that he was about to experience something truly special.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, trailing soft kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. The taste of your skin, the subtle scent of your perfume, it all combined to create a heady sensation that made his head spin.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, mapping out the contours of your figure. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, and it only served to fuel the fire burning within him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "An angel, sent just for me."

You shivered at his touch, your body arching into his as you sought more of his attention. Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Nanami chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Patience, sweetheart. Let me savour this moment."

He helped you with his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight of his muscular form and you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

Nanami groaned at your exploration, his hips pressing against yours, the evidence of his desire evident in the way his erection strained against his pants, pressing deliciously against your thigh. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you. He resumed his kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing you skin ever so slightly. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I want to worship every inch of you." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

His hands slid down to your thighs, bunching up the skirt of your dress, exposing more of your smooth skin. He took his time, savouring the feel of you, the way your body responded to his touch.

You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, the intensity of his desire, and it only served to fuel your own. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, the way his heart raced beneath your touch.

Nanami's lips found yours again, his kiss deep and passionate, pouring all of his longing into it. He rolled his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I want you," he breathed, his voice raw with need. "I want to make you mine, to claim you in every way possible."

He tugged at the fabric of your dress, his intentions clear, but something held him back. The thought of ruining the delicate garment, of marring your innocence, seemed sacrilegious.

Instead, he let his hands roam beneath it, his fingers teasing along your inner thighs, higher and higher, until he reached your panties. He could feel the heat from you, the dampness that betrayed your desire.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his fingers already circling your most clit through the cotton fabric. "Tell me you're ready for me."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease and explore, his touch both gentle and insistent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding to his every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the scent of your combined desire.

"I want this," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Nanami- Please, don't make me wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with hunger at your words, and he wasted no time in responding. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, exposing you to his hungry gaze.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate folds, feeling the slickness that coated your skin. "So wet, so ready for me."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed kisses up your leg, his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He couldn’t help but grin at every slight shuffle from you as he moved closer to your pussy, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your shyness.

When he finally reached your core, he inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time.

You gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth. Nanami groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

He lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before dipping lower to your entrance, tasting your essence. He alternated between licking and sucking, his movements slow and deliberate, building the tension within you with each pass of his tongue. “So fucking sweet-” he groaned.

Nanami's tongue continued its relentless assault on your most sensitive areas, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. As your pleasure mounted, he slowly eased a finger into your tight heat, his touch gentle and patient.

Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. The pleasure was intense, building with each passing second, threatening to consume you entirely.

He worked you slowly, his finger pumping in and out, curling to hit that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. The sensation of his tongue and finger combined was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. “Such a good girl.”

He added a second finger, stretching you further, his pace increasing as he sensed your impending release. His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, one hand working your clit while the other drove into you, stoking the fire that burned within you.

Your moans filled the room, your body writhing beneath his touch, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your body tensing as you neared your peak. “Come on sweetheart, give it to me.”

As he felt your body tense beneath him, your thighs trembling, he knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping harder, deeper, determined to bring you to the heights of ecstasy. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth and hands on your body, the pleasure consuming you entirely.

Nanami’s voice was soft but commanding. “That’s it,” he murmured, his words vibrating through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let go, my angel. Give yourself to me.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, your body gave in. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name, lost in the intensity of the moment. He stayed with you through every pulse of pleasure, his mouth working you gently as your climax washed over you, prolonging the sensation by sucking on your clit until you could no longer take it.

As you came down from your high, your breathing ragged, Nanami slowly withdrew his fingers, placing soft kisses along your thigh before sitting up. His gaze was filled with adoration as he watched you recover, his eyes trailing over your body with reverence. “You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. “I could worship you like this for hours.”

Nanami leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away the single tear that had escaped during your climax and he couldn’t stop his smirk, you were so sensitive and he’d barely even started. “Are you okay?” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with care, “I want to make sure I don't push you too far.”

You nodded, overwhelmed with emotion, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. "I just want you, Nanami," you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

His gaze softened as he reached for his belt, slowly undoing the buckle, his movements deliberate. He paused, searching your eyes for any hesitation, any uncertainty. But all he found was the same desire reflected back at him.

He smiled softly, leaning over to the bedside table and going through the drawer before retrieving a condom and some lube, ready to continue, but ensuring your comfort every step of the way.

Nanami’s hands moved with care as he opened the condom, his gaze still focused intently on you, as if each moment was something to be cherished. His heart raced, not just with the heat of desire, but with the overwhelming tenderness he felt for you. He wanted everything to be perfect—gentle, yet powerful in its intimacy.

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t just sexual. It was the weight of trust, the sacred bond forming between you as he prepared for what was to come. You felt it too, that sense of something so deeply meaningful, and it made your pulse quicken.

With the condom securely in place, Nanami applied a generous amount of lube as he soaked in the sight of your body beneath him, your silk dress still bunched around your waist. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and reverence as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, full of love and passion.

“I need you to tell me if you’re okay, if anything feels wrong,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with concern. “Do you wanna’ be on top? It might be better for you.”

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at Nanami’s question, his consideration only deepening the intimacy between you. His concern was genuine, and it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. The idea of being in control, of setting the pace, appealed to you, especially with the softness and care in his gaze.

You nodded, smiling up at him, the anticipation building in the pit of your stomach. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you replied softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes softened even further, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle movement, he shifted positions, lying back on the bed, his strong arms helping you climb atop him. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest for balance, feeling the heat of his body beneath your palms. The vulnerability of the moment didn’t make you feel exposed—it made you feel powerful, like you were in control, but still cradled in his unwavering support.

Nanami’s hands found your thighs, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin as he looked up at you with reverence. “Take your time,” he murmured, his voice deep and comforting. “There’s no rush.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hovered just above his cock. You adjusted and the sensation of his hardness against your pussy sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself growing even wetter, your body more than ready for him. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the initial stretch making you gasp softly and you had to pause for a moment before taking a little more. Nanami’s grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt you take him in, inch by inch.

You slowly took more of him in, feeling more of a stretch, a slight sting from a fullness that made your body tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. You could feel Nanami’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs, his silent encouragement pushing you forward, but never rushing you. His gaze was fixed on your face, filled with nothing but patience and reverence.

You glanced down, your eyes following the path of your own body as you straddled him, only to realise with a jolt that you weren’t fully there yet. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you noticed how much of him was still left to take. The realisation made your heart race, a mixture of awe and nervousness swirling inside you.

Nanami seemed to sense your hesitation, his hands moving from your thighs to your waist, steadying you. He lifted his head slightly, brushing a kiss against your collarbone, his warm breath soothing against your skin. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle but reassuring. “You’re doing so well. Take your time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

His words grounded you, reminding you of the trust you shared, the connection that went beyond the physical. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you slowly relaxed into him again, feeling his fingers gently massaging your waist. You could feel his restraint, the way his body tensed under yours, but he held back for you, waiting, letting you set the pace.

You lowered yourself further, feeling the stretch intensify, your body accommodating his size inch by inch. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you took him in completely, the fullness sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a slight sting through your core. You paused, breathless, your body adjusting to the sensation, the initial tightness making you shudder.

The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. A deep groan escaped Nanami’s lips, his hands now gripping your hips as he gazed up at you with pure desire, mixed with tenderness. You sat there for a moment, letting your body get used to the sensation, and Nanami’s hands continued their gentle, grounding movements on your skin.

His gaze was filled with concern and affection, watching your every reaction carefully, ensuring that you were okay. He let out a low groan, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as he fought to control his own desire, giving you the time you needed.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with restraint and tenderness. He leaned up slightly, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there, offering comfort and reassurance. “I’m here with you.”

You nodded, eyes closing as you focused on the feeling of him inside you, the stretch easing bit by bit as your body adjusted. The sting was still there, but it began to fade, replaced by a warm, overwhelming sense of connection. Your muscles relaxed, the tension in your body melting as you slowly started to get used to the fullness, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a protective cocoon.

Nanami’s thumbs brushed gentle circles over your hips, his voice a soothing balm. “You feel incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

He was big, but the lube helped, and you allowed yourself to adjust comfortably. You could see the strain in his expression, the effort it took for him to hold back, to let you take the lead. It made you smile, knowing how much he wanted you but how much more he wanted to take care of you.

You began to move slowly, adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. With each shift of your hips, the initial tightness gave way to a deeper, more profound pleasure, but the fullness still made you pause every now and then, needing time to take it all in. Nanami’s hands caressed your skin, his touch comforting and grounding, encouraging you to move at your own pace.

As you lifted yourself up slightly, you felt a slight bit of discomfort that reminded you of the tenderness of the moment. Glancing down, you noticed a small spot of blood where your bodies met. Your breath hitched for a second, a wave of nervousness flickering through you, you weren’t worried, it was your first time, after all. Still, the sight made your heart race, if only for a brief moment.

Before you could say anything, Nanami’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his eyes soft and filled with concern. He had noticed your gaze and the subtle change in your expression. “Hey,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. That’s normal.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, like a gentle anchor pulling you back to the present. His eyes never wavered from yours, filled with nothing but tenderness and understanding. “If it’s too much, we can stop. You don’t have to push yourself, love.”

You shook your head softly, your chest swelling with affection for him, for the way he always prioritised your comfort. "No, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice steady, despite the nerves that had briefly surfaced.

“You’re doing so well.” he murmured, his voice deep and strained with pleasure. His hands guided your hips in a slow rhythm, matching your pace.

Your confidence grew with each movement, the connection between you intensifying. The pleasure coursed through you like a steady pulse, and you couldn’t help but smile as you realised how much you enjoyed the feeling of being in control, of taking your time with him. Despite the initial discomfort, the intimacy was beyond anything you had imagined.

Nanami’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you but never forcing your pace. His eyes never left yours, watching you with a mix of adoration and hunger, as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory. His quiet groans and whispered praises filled the room, encouraging you to move faster, to take what you needed from him.

The rhythm between you and Nanami deepened, each movement becoming a sacred dance of shared desire. As you rode him, the discomfort faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that seemed to ripple through your entire being. The connection you felt, the intimacy between you, was almost otherworldly—like something pure and divine. It was as if you were both part of something much larger than the physical act itself, something holy, like the intertwining of souls.

Nanami’s quiet groans echoed softly in your ears, blending with the sound of your own breathless moans. His eyes never wavered from yours, holding you in a gaze that felt reverent, as if he were worshipping you in this moment. His hands on your waist were not just guiding you—they were anchoring you to this present, sacred moment. The tenderness in his touch was a constant reminder that this wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about connection, trust, and love.

With each gentle rise and fall of your hips, you felt the tension between you building, a shared crescendo that felt like a prayer being offered to the heavens. The room seemed to glow, the soft light casting shadows that danced across your skin, making the moment feel almost ethereal. You could feel Nanami’s restraint, the way he held back, allowing you to lead, to take what you needed.

You glanced down again, noticing the faint trace of blood still lingering where your bodies met, but instead of worry, it felt like a symbol of something being born between the two of you. It was raw and beautiful in a way that made your heart swell.

Nanami’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words a low, reverent whisper. “You’re divine,” he Nanami's voice pulled you from your thoughts, his whispered words, "You're divine," he breathed, his hands squeezing your hips gently as you moved. "You feel so damn perfect."

Shivers ran across your skin at his praise. You had never felt so connected with another person-so enveloped in the pleasure, in the love radiating between you.

But with every shift it grew, not just from the physical, but it felt as though your very souls were craving for each other, entwining like a vine in a precious garden. Every word that came from Nanami was some sort of hallowed sound. His breath on your lips, hands against your skin...it was the kind of veneration one pays to something holy.

Nanami's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch soft and soothing. Soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips-each one another silent declaration of love to you.

As Nanami held you close, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. You were his best friend's daughter. It came to him in a flash, momentarily pulling him out of the sacredness of the moment, but he shut it down, refusing to let it intrude.

He wasn't thinking about that now, not when you were here with him, your bodies connected in such a profound, intimate manner. The tenderness in his touch was real; the love he felt for you stronger than any sense of guilt or propriety. It wasn't about what anyone else might think. It was about you, about the trust and bond you'd built together.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple, a silent reassurance, as if it was a sealing of his resolution. Nothing was going to mar this moment-not the past, not expectations, not the weight of responsibility. His fingers dug into your skin, not in a harmful manner but in one speaking volumes about his need to hold on to you, to keep you close. "I'm here," he whispered-a quiet affirmation, yet a promise to himself and you, all at once. "I’ll be all yours-"

The words spoke of everything unsaid, all he couldn't explain yet knew in his heart.

With every subtle rise and fall of your hips, every time your walls clenched around his cock, the tension of the moment surged between you-a crescendo of shared longing that tugged along your very veins like a heartbeat. But as you got lost in the rhythm, you felt the change in Nanami's energy. "Let me take over," he whispered, voice low and full of promise. You nodded, breathless, feeling the thrill of anticipation at the thought.

As you eased yourself off him, his hands guided you gently to the side, and he shifted his position with grace. You found yourself lying back against the soft sheets as your heart pounded in your chest.

As Nanami settled between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. There was something of the power in his eyes, a quiet confidence that coursed a thrill through you. You felt vulnerable yet cherished, knowing he was fully present, ready to guide you deeper into this moment.

Nanami lifted your ankles up, with a deliberate care, and laid them over his shoulders. The position opened you up to him; it heightened the sensation as he moved in closer. A soft gasp escaped you in a mix of surprise and delight flooding the senses because the positioning allowed for a completely new depth of connection.

"Just breathe," he whispered, his tone silky and soothing as he watched your reaction. His hands wrapped around your legs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin as he gently pushed his cock inside again, sliding through with ease now. The angle was completely different, hitting all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

His thrusts were slow and deep, taking his time, wanting you to feel every inch of him inside you. "Kento," you gasped, body instinctively arching toward him as pleasure mounted inside of you. This position allowed him to explore you more fully, each thrust setting off a fire that coursed through your veins, racing your heart and quickening your breath.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, as if he were committing to memory every reaction, every sigh escaping your lips. "You're incredible," he whispered, the admiration in his voice wrapping around you like a warm caress.

He quickened the pace with each thrust, and his motions grew urgent in his urge to take you higher. The tension coiled inside of you tighter and tighter with each stroke. Nanami pressed forward, his lips grazing your forehead before tracing soft kisses down the hollow of your neck, each one sending new waves coursing through your veins. "Let go," he whispered, the soft air of his voice dancing upon your skin. "Just feel.

With his words still echoing in your mind, you succumbed to the moment and the pleasure heaving upon you like a tidal wave. Anything less would make the connection between the two all-consuming; every thrust pulls you deeper into the bliss of shared intimacy.

As he drove deeper, instinctively, your body coiled around him, pulling him in closer, urging him on. You heard the quiet, breathless groans escaping from his lips, each a testament to the overwhelming pleasure being felt together.

"Just like that-" you encouraged, your voice trembling with need as you lost yourself in the rhythm, each thrust sending you spiralling further into ecstasy. Everything else around you disappeared but the two of you entwined in a dance of passion, a sacred union of body and soul.

He was taken aback by just how beautiful you looked, lying there.

“You really do look angelic," he breathed, staring at the way the dress clung to you. It was surreal to him-how someone so beautiful, so vibrant, could be here, completely vulnerable and open, just for him. The mere thought shot a surge of possessiveness rushing through him, igniting something deep within his core.

"I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see you like this," he said, his voice low and husky. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A fierce pride swelled inside of him, a protective instinct that raced his heart faster. You were his, and no one else had the privilege to know you this way.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your legs, savouring it. "Knowing I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this-to feel you and see you… it drives me wild," he confessed, words tumbling from his lips in an fervour that even caught him off guard. It was not merely in the act itself but in the depth of your connection, the trust that you had in one another. He couldn’t deny this had sparked up a desire of possession in him for you.

As you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, he groaned, burying his head against your shoulder, almost bending you in half from the angle he had your legs now. The deeper he thrust, the more the feeling of you wrapped around him intensified. Every thrust reminded him of the privilege he held, and he never wanted to forget the feeling of being inside you.

It wasn't one of those moments that would come and go but a promise of what was yet to be, an opportunity to get to know the inside of your relationship in that way-in ways more than physical. And in that realisation, a surge of determination overcame him to always cherish you, protect you, and make you aware of how well loved you were.

The rhythm between you picked up, Nanami holding you close as he thrust deeper, pushing you toward the edge of ecstasy. Your reactions to him-the gasps and moans falling from your lips-caused his heart to race even faster, firing up a flame of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

“I don't think I'm gonna let you go now," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. You felt shivers run down your spine at the conviction he drew behind the statement, a delicious thrill coursing through you. It sounded like a promise, a validation of this moment being more than just a one night thing.

With every thrust, it was like he testified to the fact that he knew you were meant to be together this way, bound by something more real than lust. "If you’ll have more of me, I swear I’ll treat you right" he whispered low, truthfulness in his voice raw and palpable.

As he continued to move, the pace becoming more insistent, the heat rose between you. The way you surrendered to him, trusting him implicitly, made his resolve even stronger. He wanted to protect you, to preserve this connection with every part of his being.

“I want you in my life…properly" he breathed, his voice breaking slightly, his emotions spilling over. "I want to be your person.”

Your eyes met and everything just felt so right. You could see the honesty in his eyes-the fierce protectiveness wrapping around you like a warm hug. This wasn't about desire; it was about love, wanting to be together in every sense.

He continued to move, each thrust a declaration, each moment together a step deeper into the bond you were forging. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate movement. "And I'm yours, now and always."

He was putting every ounce into you, feeding the fire that was bursting to last between the two-this moment in the engraving of your hearts forever. Everything else faded around you, and it came down to just the two of you, entwined together in a dance as old as time, bound by passion and an unbreakable connection that seemed to be written across the stars.

With every thrust, the intensity between you became all too much. Nanami began to move with greater urgency, his grip upon you  tightening as he urged you toward the brink.

It was as if you could feel the pressure build up in you, spiralling tighter and tighter every time his cock hit that sweet spot inside you. The room echoed with the sounds of your shared breathing, the soft slapping of skin to skin, and the sweet symphony of pleasure mingled together.

“I’m not holding back,” he growled, urgency creeping into his tone. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember this.” With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you both closer to the edge. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelming your senses, and you could feel the tightness coiling in your core.

“Kento,” you gasped, the sound slipping from your lips unbidden. The tension was unbearable, a sweet torment that made your heart race. You could feel your body responding instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on, begging for release.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, even as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. “Let go for me.” His words ignited a spark within you, and you felt the wave building higher, ready to crash over you both.

With one final thrust, everything aligned—the heat, the pressure, the connection—and you felt yourself spiralling over the edge. Your body trembled as waves of pleasure washed over you, crashing through you with an intensity that left you breathless. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the space between you, as ecstasy enveloped you completely.

You held onto him as you gushed around his cock, the way you clenched around him drew him deeper into the bliss and he followed closely, his own climax hitting him like a tidal wave, surging right through him. “Oh God,” he groaned, the sound raw and primal, his own body responding instinctively to the way you embraced him.

He savoured the aftershocks of the moment, thankful in this moment that he’d worn a condom. And as the waves of pleasure began to recede, you were breathless and spent.

Nanami gently lowered your legs from his shoulders, his touch tender and deliberate. He cradled your ankles in his hands, mindful of the way the position had pulled and stretched your muscles. His fingers began to massage softly, kneading the tension away with a skillful touch that made you sigh in contentment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a blend of concern and affection. He looked at you with those deep eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort. The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both like a soft blanket, grounding you in the reality of what you’d just shared.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips as you felt his gentle hands work their magic. “I’m perfect,” you breathed, your heart swelling with warmth as you took in the sight of him—the way he focused on you, the care he put into every movement. “Thank you.”

Nanami’s lips curved into a satisfied smile at your words, and he leaned down, placing soft kisses along your ankles and up your calves, each press of his mouth sending a shiver of delight through your body. It felt like a sacred ritual, a way for him to honour the experience you had just shared. He continued to massage your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate care, ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

“I want to take my time with you” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalising. As he kissed his way back up to your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

“You have me,” you replied, your voice soft but full of promise. “All of me.”

Nanami’s gaze turned serious for a moment, a flicker of something profound passing between you. “I don’t take that lightly,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “You mean a lot to me.”

He paused, taking in the moment, the connection that thrummed between you. He quickly discarded the condom before leaning in, capturing your lips with his in a slow, tender kiss that ignited another spark within you. The world around you faded, and all that existed was the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the way he made you feel—safe, cherished, and completely desired.

“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Nanami whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady sensation that made you smile. You nodded, content to linger in this cocoon of warmth and affection, feeling utterly adored in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in each other, the echoes of your passion fading into soft whispers, leaving only the sweet sound of your hearts beating in perfect harmony.

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead

© lovecuprite ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[cheriladycl01]

First time - Lando Norris x Innocent! Reader

Plot: Lando finds out his girlfriend is more innocent than he ever thought and that turns him on hard core.

Warnings: SMUT Innocence Knik etc MINORS DNI 18+

When Lando first started dating you he knew you were pretty innocent and oblivious to the world around you.

The first time he noticed it was when he first met you. You were in a club and he sat back watching you the whole night, run around like mother hen after your friends who ... arguably weren't being good friends to you and were using you as their sober ride home.

You were making sure your friends had clean drinks straight from the bartender and handing them tissues or hand gels when they touched anything dirty.

Your friends had left you that night, leaving Lando to take the opportunity to come and introduce himself. He wasn't shocked to find out this was your first time in a club, that you hated it and wanted to go home.

"So, what brings you to Monaco?" he'd asked you and you gave him this big gummy grin that he couldn't help but fall in love with.

"My friends and I are on a girls trip celebrating graduation!" you answered, trying not to yell incase the music went quiet but loud enough so he could hear.

"And that's why they've all abandoned you?" he chuckled walking you over to the bar.

"Yeah, I think they just have different ideas of fun than I do, we saw some really beautiful museums earlier which was my idea!" you smile thinking back to the earlier part of the day which you had favoured.

"Drink?" he asks you and you smile nodding your head.

"I'll have a Coors again and ..." he says naming his beer before looking at you.

"I'll just have a Spite please!" you order in French from the bartender who smiles at you.

"You can order something more expensive like alcohol i don't mind!" he smiles down at you, only for you to shake your head.

"I erm, don't drink! I've never drank alcohol actually!" you smile, pretty proud of you lifestyle.

"Yeah, I used to say I didn't drink and then my friends introduced me to it. Never been the same since!" he frowns in a joking manner making you laugh.

"You're funny!" you giggled.

You guys talked for the rest of the night, until it was the closing hours of the club and you had to part ways.

He'd regretted not getting your number.

The next time he met you was a complete coincidence. He was travelling around and caving in Vietnam. You were there building sustainable housing on your year after graduating. He knew it was you right away and everyone was so confused when he went running of to go say hello to you.

After that he got your number. He had to secure it after a second chance of meeting you which he'd been considering was gods gift to him.

After a few dates and texting back and forth for a while you started dating.

"Y/N, can we talk about something serious?" he'd asked you and you nodded coming to sit next to him on the sofa in his apartment.

"Yeah what's wrong?" you ask him with a frown thinking you'd done something wrong.

"How would you feel, about becoming my girlfriend..." he asks before presenting you with a little gift bag in papaya orange that had chocolates, flowers, a little card and a pair of expensive Cartier earrings. Not that you knew that until you got back to the hotel you were currently staying in and opened them up.

"Oh my! Yes! Please" you replied happily and he was trying so hard not to laugh at your super polite and formal answer to his ... well what now felt like a proposition

You were so happy and getting to spend time with Lando was everything! You came to races and everyone adored you, not just the people in McLaren with Lando but all the TV presenters, the fans and the other teams.

Lando was confused that after having dated for three months you hadn't done anything within a sexual nature. Not that it was an issue for him but he was just used to his girlfriends being bold and upfront compared to you, who was a little shyer and more reserved.

He knew he just needed to be a grown up and talk to you about it but he didn't think he could have this conversation with you. It felt wrong almost.

"Baby, can we talk?" Lando says patting the sofa while you were in the kitchen starting to prep for the lunch you were going to make the both of you.

"Yeah, what's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask looking at him carefully and taking a seat next to you.

"No, no not at all. It's kinda the opposite actually!" he laughs at his own joke not thinking you'd take notice of it.

"I haven't done something? I - did i forget to do my dished? I'm so sorry if i did!" you say looking back to the sink frantically thinking you'd missed your glass of orange juice and bowl of cereal you'd had this morning.

"No no, and don't think of it that way. I was just joking around - erm, I just wanted to say we've been dating for a while now and I was hoping we could start to be more intimate?" he asks holding your hand and your eyes widen and your cheeks redden.

"I- erm" you start to stutter and he rubs his thumb over your hand.

"We don't have too... if you don't want too! But I just wanted to ask!" he rushes out not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"It's just that ... I've never ever done anything like that!" you say looking at him with those innocent doe eyes that made him go crazy.

"Like never ever?" he asks in shock, you were a gorgeous girl and even when he was out with you, guys would always be coming up to you, making conversation and flirting with you.

Now that he thought about it, you never actually could tell when you were being lightly flirted with. You were very oblivious too all moves guys made, unless they were literally asking for you number.

"Mmmm no, I mean ... you know you're like my first boyfriend right?" you ask him, cocking your head to the side.

"Wait, you've never been with anyone else other than me?" he asks, and fights to keep the smirk off his face. There was something so dirty, about the fact that you were so pure and untouched, and that it turned him on that he would be the first, and hopefully last to show you everything he could.

"No" you whisper and he looks at you, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a soft kiss.

"Will you let me show you, everything I want to?" he asks looking at you, brushing some of your hair behind you so he has full view of your collarbone.

"Yes..." you breathe out, feeling flutters in your stomach at both his words and actions.

"Now?" he asks with a little gulp, hoping the answer would be a yes.

"Yes, show me now Lan!" you say, climbing onto his lap getting excited about the actions to come.

"Okay, baby. Lets slow down" he laughs holding you in place. He shifts about so he's comfortable and starts to run his hands over your body. Little goosebumps rise to the surface coating your arms as his fingers roam across your collarbone, down over your clothed boobs and down until he had a firm grip on your hips.

"As much as I like your wearing my shirt baby, I'm going to take it off you now, is that okay?" he asks looking you in the eyes and you nod, looking down a little intimidated by the intense eye-contact.

"Words baby, you gotta tell me" he smiles at you and you smile.

"Yes, you can"

And he does, he fingers brush against you and a groan comes out of his mouth as he see's what he's been missing out on seeing. Your perky tits were currently clad in an orange coloured bra. He didn't know if that was a normal colour for you or if you'd brought it since dating the McLaren driver.

"You are so fucking beautiful" he says looking at you, teasing against the straps of your bra before slowly pulling down each of them, before reaching round the back and unclasping it so it fell off you.

In reflex your hands came up, to cover your exposed chest, it wasn't something you were used too.

"I want to see and touch baby, please let me!" he says softly.

You felt comfortable and confident enough with Lando that you felt like you could show this part of yourself to him, a part that no-one apart from you had seen.

The moment was getting more and more intimate as his hands started to fondle your boobs, pinching squeezing and kneading. Lando learning what you liked from the noises you were making as he continued.

The more intimate it got, the hotter and more impatient you got with the new sensation in you stomach and the slickness and heat building between your legs.

Naturally, your body is craving friction. Your mind is going haywire not really knowing what to do to get the relief its craving. So your body automatically started to grind down on him, and you could feel just how excited he was getting with the large bulge building in his sweatpants.

You could tell it was something he liked too from the little whines and groans that came out overtime pressure was applied.

"I- I want to make you feel good. But I don't know how" you offer and he nods.

"Do you want me to show you?" he asks and you nod. He takes your hand and starts to help you palm him through his joggers, breathy moans coming from him.

"That's it, and when your ready you can take them off" he breathes out softly, not wanting to rush you into anything.

You take him out of his jogger, having a grip on him that was tight and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"That's it baby. Now just run your hand up and down in a fisting motion!" he says, but you make no move to start, his head that was thrown back raises to look at you in question.

"Can you show me?" you ask, wide eyes and he nods, taking your hand that was around him in his as he helps you start to move up and down, showing the pace and grip that he liked. His moans were constantly flowing out now as he let go to grip the edges of the sofa and lean back. You started to go a little faster, before slowly right down and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I heard... from friends that you really like when we use our mouths?" you ask and look at him.

"You dont have to if you don't want to" he groans.

"I- will you enjoy it?" you ask.

"I think i'd enjoy anything you did to me"

"Then i want to do it" you nod and he sits up a little more.

"Okay, get on your knees baby..." he directs and you get to the floor in between his legs.

"You want my help?" he asks and you nod, he takes your hair into a ponytail to keep it out your face.

"Okay, open baby. Remember no teeth baby, it hurts!" he smiles and you start by what you thinks right and go straight in. You gag a little and he pulls you head back from the grip.

"No need to rush hunny. Just start with the head, and then you'll feel a vein on the underside that always feels good, okay? But don't rush to fill your mouth up okay?" he chuckles a little bit as he watches you listen to him.

You start with small movements around his tip, moving your tongue over his slit where pre-cum is leaking out. It was a strange taste that the first few times had your eyes screwing but you slowly got used to it.

You run your tongue along the underside feeling the throbbing vein he was talking about and he went crazy, moaning above you and desperately trying not to thrust up.

You slowly take more and more in your mouth and what you cant fit you decide to use your hands to cover the rest and use the movements you were doing earlier.

"Holy fuck! Are you sure you havent done this before baby?" he asks in shock of how good it feels. Maybe it was just because he was so in love with you that it felt 10x better than he ever had, or maybe you were just a quick learner and good at observing what he liked.

A minute later and he was coming into your mouth, you were quick to swallow all of him and leave his dick with a string of saliva attaching you together.

"Fucking hell baby" he smiles pulling you up onto his lap resting you on top of him, your knees either side of him.

"Was that good?" you ask, shyly. He can only nod as he catches his breathing.

"Your turn!" he smirks, one had on your hip the other one inching up your inner thigh under the skirt you were in. His hands starts to rub your clit through your underwear, and he smiles as your head falls into the crook of his neck and he can feel your breathing pick up against him.

His fingers curl round the edge of your panties pulling them to one side rubbing his fingers through your wet folds.

"Is this all for me baby!" he asks using his free hand to run through your hair as you keep your head in the crook of his neck rocking against his movements. His fingers eventually find there way in, the stretch a little painful at first.

"It's okay, it'll start to feel good in a minute" he says rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Tell me if i should stop yeah?" he asks and you just nod before quickly shaking your head, realising that may have come across as you want him to stop when you really don't now that a coil is building in your stomach and his fingers are feeling incredible inside you.

"Lando!" you whine starting to kiss along his neck and jaw, needing to occupy yourself with something to focus on the growing feeling inside you.

"Fuck baby, the things you do to me!" he exclaims feeling himself get hard again from the whole intimate situation occurring.

In seconds you're letting that coil go, not being able to hold it in any longer and gushing over his fingers. He pulls them out, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean groaning at the taste of you, his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I gotta have a taste of you baby!" he practically whimpers out, before laying you on the sofa and spreading your legs open. You shyly try to shut them but he just tuts.

"Lemme baby please!" he says softly and he stop resisting against his hands. He dives in, nipping and licking at the parts he knows are most sensitive, before devouring you as if your a five course meal. It felt incredible, better than his hands and you legs were shaking the whole time.

Your mind was fuzzy and you could only let out little swear words and his name to let him know just how good he was making you feel.

And only minutes later and you were releasing into his awaiting mouth where he fully cleaned you up. He draw back, a small sheen on his nose and corners of his mouth from your release that had you blushing.

"Lets finish this in the bedroom yeah?" he asks and you nod eagerly as he picks you up tossing your over his shoulder, giving your arse a light tap on the way out that had you giggling and squealing.

He places you gently on the bed hovering over you. He starts to take the rest of the clothing that was left on you off and chucking it to the floor before he starts to take his own off. He reaches into the bedside draw, grabbing a condom and opening it with his teeth before rolling it on.

"You are so beautiful baby! Are you ready?" he smiles, now lining himself up with your entrance. You hesitate for a split second, before remembering its your incredibly kind and beautiful and caring boyfriend Lando above you right now who wouldn't dream of hurting you.

"Yes" you nod, and he slowly starts to push himself into your warm, wet caverns. He moans at the tight feeling of you, kissing across your neck and collarbone trying to help you un-tense a little.

"Baby, you gotta relax" he guides you, starting to play with your boobs to get you feeling good. He pushes in a little more when he feels that you arent tensing as much and you sigh.

"Woah, your so big!" you exclaim, thinking he'd bottomed out from the stretch as you try regain your breath.

"Baby... hate to break it to you but I'm only halfway inside you" he laughs with a chuckle, nearly loosing his balance on his forearms that he is using to hold himself steady above you.

"What?" you ask opening your eyes too look at your laughing boyfriend.

"Thank you for the compliment though baby, that makes me feel really good about myself" he says honesty before he pushes the full way in, finally bottoming out. You wiggle a little trying to get comfortable before giving him a nod where he starts to move in and out of you.

It starts to progressively feel better and better to the point where you can start meeting his thrusts to make it a little quicker. The sounds in the room are anything but innocent, both of your breathy moans and your high pitched whines when he reaches in between you to rub circles on your clit and the sound of slapping skin.

"Lando fuck! I love you" you cry as the pressure builds up and up.

"I fucking love you too" he breathes out, his thrusts coming a little sloppier.

And soon your both releasing at the same time as he pulls you in closer to him, almost laying all his weight on you.

"I'm like so glad we had that talk!" Lando laughs pulling himself up to look at you.

"Me too, I cant wait for you to show me more!" you grin pulling him into a kiss making him groan and grab the pillow to put over his face. He was exhausted but ... round 2 sounded like a shout.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[blackknight-kai]

Let me start saying I love your blog, reblogs and headcanons, truly, all of the above🩷🩷

If you’re comfortable with the question, do you have any for the Destined One with a female virgin reader?

So I wanna say thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 I haven’t quite shared my own head canons much but I don’t have any issue sharing them 🫶 others do a much better job of it so I’ve left it to them. But! Your ask comes at a wonderful time as I needed a break from writing a fic 💀 (kill me im up to 20k)

Let’s get after it! Destined One & a female virgin head canons? I’ll give it a shot! There will be a nsfw section below sorry if that’s not your thing. I wasn’t super explicit on body parts etc but let me know if you guys want a Sun Wukong one? I’d try.

If you’re NOT in a relationship yet and he finds out? (Be it you told him outright or it comes out in passing conversation)

He’d would remain expressionless and quiet as usual. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it and remain respectful

But if you look closely you can see him swallowing thickly at the new information

Will NOT treat you differently

He has a LOT of feelings for you and knowing you haven’t shared yourself with someone else, while not a huge deal he’s never really cared one way or another, it’s something he finds himself thinking about often.

It makes him a little hot under the collar sometimes when he looks at you and remembers what you’d said.

NSFW - on the very rare occasions that he takes some time to himself or you’re not around, in the quiet he puts his goal to the side for just a moment and allows himself to think about his wishes and whims. Specially how he’d touch you and make it good for you because you deserve to be treated like you’re special and HE wants to be the one to do it.

If you’re in a relationship and it either came up naturally or during a more…heated moment.

Would absolutely freeze. Like body full on screenshot kinda freeze - only his tail would flick and twitch as he processes

Because honestly it hadn’t occurred to him before but it is NOW. He’s thought of you and making love with you but first or not first hadn’t been a topic of thought

He’d probably internally get flustered and his heart would race ridiculously but on the outside his expression would appear stoic or mildly surprised

Wouldn’t try to pressure you or make a big deal out of it, as though it doesn’t matter one way or another besides making extra sure you’re comfortable

His tail would eventually give him away though as it would be swishing behind him happy and interested as the information settles in his brain

Dude would be first and foremost HONORED If you shared that news with him and were giving him your first

Probably a first for him too ngl. I see him as someone who was so focused on his path that warming another’s bed wasn’t something he was willing to spare time on.

If it’s not a first for him too then it’s not something he’s done often and isn’t an expert

Would definitely thank you for trusting him with sweet reassuring kisses (if they are a little heated don’t blame him too much)

He is respectful! As I said no pressure. No rush. But would the information please him? Yes.

Definitely adds fire to his belly because HE will be your first

Sends a note of possession through him not because he’d “own” you but because regardless of being a first or not you’d be his and he yours.

NSFW:

Regardless of if you’re shy or ready to get the show on the road he’d be so gentle and would be careful, really careful.

Probably a bit unsure and might move a little too fast accidentally in his own lust but would immediately sooth you as soon as he realizes

Looks to your expressions and sounds to make sure you’re feeling good and safe

He wants to treat you WELL views it as HIS duty to make sure you’re happy

It’s a lot of pressure but he’d do his best and set his mind to it being nothing but perfect for you

I imagine at first his hands would be so feather light letting you get used to him and his touch as he undresses you piece by piece- he’d watch his claws unless he finds out you enjoy them grazing across your skin

He’d brush his lips across every piece of new skin revealed to his eyes unable to help himself

Finds out he really loves your chest, both feeling you & tasting you. as well as napping on you later

But over time as the act went on he’d be more confident, still tender but less unsure

He’d be enamored every time he got you to sigh or make a pleased sound

It’s his goal to hears those often

When he discovers how turned on he’s made you it would send waves of pride crashing over him, he had done THAT

Overall though he’d take his time

He probably won’t speak much if at all, but he’d make sure you’re ready every step of the way. If he does speak it’s not more than a few words here or there, low and only for you to hear as he nips your ear

Multiple check ins

He’s a giver, and while he isn’t practiced whatsoever he’d use his mouth and fingers to bring you pleasure, finding out exactly how you like it by listening to the way you moan or the way your body shivers and trembles with specific movements

He 100% will become VERY VERY good with his hands and mouth

His tail is sneaky, he’d use it as a way to hold on to your leg (holding you open while one of his hands is occupied) or would brush the the furry appendage across your skin just to see goosebumps rise in its wake

When you’re finally connected, after time spent letting you get used to him (and him you because let’s be real he’d be overwhelmed by the feel of tightly wrapped around him too) he’d roll his hips gently

He would make sounds, sighs and groans in your ear.

He’d love it if you cling on to him and tell him he’s doing something good

Full on shudders if you scratch his back or dig your nails into him - he loves it and he might accidentally thrust too hard when you do it

Wants to hear you 👏👏

Would keep control for as long as he could but would listen to your requests almost instantly if you asked him to move faster

Would love it if you moved his hand exactly where you wanted him to touch you

Would suck marks on your skin - thighs and neck, wherever he absentmindedly ran his lips. Would be shy about it later but would touch them possessively or when you’re dressed his eyes would stray to where his marks are on your skin.

Afterwards he’d silently but tenderly wipe you down and then pull you into his arms

Would nuzzle his face against you and breathe your scent as you both relax and come down from your high

Would massage any soreness you have that he could and feel pride at wearing you out, although his face wouldn’t show it

His tail would be like a vice around your thigh all night and trying to get out of his hold in the morning is a chore

He’d 100% take care of you especially for a first time is basically what I’m saying. After, he may be a bit rougher with his movements or may be impatient at times especially after a tough fight and adrenaline is still kicking but will always treat you tenderly as you guys build confidence together.

[themultifanshipper]

Hiiiii ❤️ Could you please write something driverxreader (I’m partial to Carlos but it can be any other you thinks fits the prompt):

Reader wants to surprise him and set a really sexy mood but when he comes home he’s not in the mood (bad race/shitty offers or whatever). So the kick is that he tries to pretend he is into it because all his exes have sort of pushed the “driver’s stamina is endless and men are always on the mood” stereotype and he feels pressured to perform. Reader notices and ends in some sort of fluffy conversation about enthusiastic consent needed from both parts.

IDK if that makes sense but if it does I’m sure you’ll do something amazing with it.

Luv ya! Bye ✌🏽

The race had not gone well for Carlos. A DNF was always hard to take, and you were determined to make him feel better, by any means necessary.

Warnings: Issues around consent, discussing consent, bit angsty, then fluffy, then goes completely unhinged, I'm talking breeding kink, I'm talking getting pinned down and RAILED and BRED (this fic is a roller coaster ngl), mention of pregnancy, cream pie, cum, spit, my disgusting kinks are exposed here (but the smut is at the end so you can stop after the fluffy bit)

You'd set up the apartment perfectly, scented candles, flowers, the works. You'd even made his favourite cookies, having got the recipe from his mother the week before.

So when he walked in all sulky you took the liberty of removing his coat and wrapping your arms around him, kissing him sweetly to welcome him home.

He hummed contentedly as the smell of the cookies invaded his senses and he gasped.

“You didn't! My favourite?” his eyes shone with affection as you nodded.

He took as step towards the kitchen, to follow the alluring smell, but you stopped him with an arm around his waist.

“There will be plenty of time for cookies after” you purred.

“After what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Come with me” you said mysteriously as you led him though the corridor into the bedroom.

This was the thing with Carlos, he was insatiable (he was a rich hot competitive man, after all) and you’d come to find that you could fix anything with sex.

Bad race? Sex. Problems with the team? Sex. Bad football results? Sex. Bad weather? Sex.

He was always up for it, you were always up for it, so you dragged him to the bedroom, where you'd set up a few candles to set the mood, and sat him down on the edge of the bed.

You climbed onto his lap, his hands naturally coming to wrap around you as you kissed him deeply.

He sighed into the kiss and you took the opportunity to wrap your fingers into his hair and pull, earning a grunt from him.

“I'm sorry about your race baby” you said sensually, pushing him down to lay on the bed. “Let me make you feel better”

You leant down and kissed along his neck, where you knew he was sensitive, and you gently ground your hips down, making him gasp and let out a low moan.

He lifted himself up enough for you to take his shirt off, as your mouth went lower. His nipples were one of his most sensitive spots, the lightest of touches usually getting him desperate and needy, but all your tongue managed to elicit was a light hiss.

His hand came up to cup the back of your head to keep you there though, so you took that as a good sign.

“Does that feel good, baby?” you asked, and he nodded, eyes closed.

“Want me to go lower?” He licked his lips before answering the most noncommital ‘yes' you'd ever heard.

He was probably a bit too in his head, so your hand went to slip inside his pants.

And that's when you realised… he wasn't even half hard.

Carlos would normally be dripping and begging by now.

“Baby?” his eyes were still screwed shut, and there was a slight wobble in his lower lip as he answered.

“You can keep going…” his voice was so low you barely heard him.

“Carlos look at me” it was an order, your voice taking on the serious tone that Carlos knew meant business.

He looked down at you with unshed tears in his eyes. “I'm sorry”

The tremor in his voice broke your heart and you immediately stood up and pulled him upright in a sitting position, with you standing between his legs.

“Don't you dare apologise! What's wrong, baby?” you held his face in your hands as he bit his lip, obviously uncomfortable about something. “Did I do something wrong Carlos?”

He shook his head.

“Then tell me, what is it? I need you to tell me what's wrong”

He sighed.

“I just don't want to disappoint you. You made all this effort for me…”

You shushed him by kissing him quickly.

“Baby you can't disappoint me. Why would you think that?”

He sniffled. “Because I am not in the mood but I am supposed to be able to provide your pleasure, no? I’m sorry for ruining your plan”

“Baby there's nothing wrong with not being in the mood. I just assumed you would be because it's what we always do after a bad race, I shouldn't have assumed”

“It's not your fault, my ex always used to say that men are always horny and usually that is true but today I just feel like a failure, and now I've failed you as well by not being what you wanted…”

“Carlos you haven't failed me, I love you! Sex isn't important enough to ruin that. If anything it's my fault, I pushed you even though you didn't want to. I'm sorry.”

“No, no! It's my fault. I didn't say no, you couldn't have known!”

You cringed at his words. That's not how consent works.

"I hate everything about that sentence. You shouldn't have to say no. I should have read the signs better, baby…”

“But if I had said no we wou-”

“Carlos!” he stopped and looked at you. “We can argue all day about who's fault it is. The point is I never want you to feel pressured into anything, and let's agree that we always need enthusiastic consent going forward, okay?”

He nodded and pulled you in for a hug, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Thank you”

“I love you Carlos”

You two stayed like that, cradling each other for what felt like hours, your hand running up and down his back soothingly.

When his heartbeat felt normal again, he mumbled into your skin.

“Can we have cookies, now?”

You giggled, looking down at him as he smiled up at you.

“Of course we can, baby”

You pecked him on the lips before taking his hand in yours and leading him to the kitchen, where his favourite snack lay waiting in the tray.

By the time you'd finished the cookies (and a cheeky glass of wine) it was getting late, so you decided to call it a night.

What you hadn't realised, is that your attentiveness to his needs and you baking his mothers recipe made him earth-shatteringly horny.

So as he crawled into bed behind you, you felt him against your ass and you smirked.

“Do you want to fuck me now, baby?”

He growled into your hair as his hips rolled into yours without him even realising.

“More than anything I have ever wanted in my life”

You giggled and he rolled you onto your front, looming over you like a predator as he pinned you down with his thighs either side of yours.

“And you? Do you want me to fuck you?”

You nodded.

“I need your words, hermosa, like we said” his lips came down to your neck and trailed kisses up to your ear.

“Yes Carlos, please.” You gasped as he shifted his hips to grind into you harder, the friction driving you insane and the feeling of being unable to move as he had his way with you turning you on more than you would admit out loud.

“You can do better than that, mi amor, beg for me…” he whispered, his hands going to grab a pillow to prop your hips up a bit. “tell me how much you want me”

“Carlos, please. I need you to fuck me, I need your cock inside me, please!”

He growled, and ripped your underwear off in one go, hands immediately going down to spread your cheeks, exposing how wet you had gotten so embarrasingly quickly.

He trailed a line of spit down to where you needed him most, the feeling making you shiver, and he wasted no time dipping two fingers in down to the knuckle.

The stretch was incredible, and the angle meant he didn't need to search long to find the spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure.

You vaguely registered the sound of the bedside drawer opening and closing “We don't have any condoms left, hermosa”

You were about to cry, the pleasure so good you didn't want to stop now. But Carlos suddenly had an idea.

He leaned over you plastering his body over yours, and slid his cock between your thighs, his tip knocking against your clit every time he thrusted forwards. It wasn't perfect but it was certainly hot as fuck as you felt like horny teenagers again, rutting against each other mindlessly.

His cock kept catching against your entrance, threatening to slip in at any moment, as you trembled beneath him.

“Carlos please, just fuck me!” you gasped as his pace increased with his desperation.

“Even without a condom?” he asked, pace faltering slightly at the idea of taking you bare.

“Want you to fill me up, Carlos. Make me yours”

His resolve… well it didn't even make an appearance, as he leaned back and positioned his tip at your entrance, dipping it in teasingly.

“tell me again” he growled.

“Come inside me, please. Fill me up, I want to be full of you”

He wasted no time slamming into you, the thought of your walls, tight and wet around his cock much too enticing to wait any longer.

He stayed there, throbbing inside you at the feeling of finally getting to have you like this for the first time in your relationship.

It was almost overwhelming when he hooked an arm under your hips and started grinding his cock into you, hitting all your sweet spots as you moaned wantonly.

“You want me to fill you up? Come so deep inside you, fuck-” he hips involuntarily slammed into yours.

You moaned “Yes Carlos! I want you to fill me up until I can't take it anymore-”

His hips slammed into you again with more force, chest coming to lay against your back to pin you down with his weight as he pounded into you.

“Look at you, so submissive for me. Want me to breed you? I bet it would only take one try”

His hips moved at an inhuman pace as your hands reached out for something, anything to hold on to.

The idea of the man you loved getting you pregnant made you a bit feral, and you felt yourself nearing the edge the more he spoke.

“Going to fill you up so much my cum will be dripping out of you, hermosa. Do you want me to make you a mother? Keep you full of me all the time?”

“Yes! Yes Carlos! I'm gonna come. I'm- shit!”

“Come for me baby, milk my cock, that's my good girl…”

You saw white when you came, squeezing around Carlos as your body went completely pliant under him.

The feeling of you pulsing around his cock was enough for Carlos to come inside you with a shout, filling you up like he promised.

Your legs felt like jelly, and Carlos didn't feel like pulling out at all, so you stayed like that, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“I was serious by the way…” you started.

Carlos hummed questionningly.

“About… you know. Trying…”

You felt Carlos' body tense above yours.

“You want to… try?”

“Mhmm” you nodded shyly.

“Fuck” He sat up and pulled out of you gently, turning you over and bending your legs.

He stared at the way his cum started dripping out of you, the sight so lewd he had to close his eyes to keep from going insane.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Give me a minute and i'll fill you up again” he looked at you, and his eyes were so dark you gasped, a spark of arousal running through you at the sight.

“And i'll fill you up as many times as it takes”

Tears started welling up in your eyes. This was it. You and Carlos were going to be parents.

Carlos was hard again, and the fact that this made him so unhinged made you clench, and more cum dribbled out of you, making Carlos moan at the sight.

He tapped his cock on your clit a couple of times, then slid in to the hilt.

You sighed, his cock filling you so perfectly, and he started a bruising pace, laser focused on the wetness between your legs.

He was a man on a mission. And boy, did he deliver.

[elikajinnie]

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."

[remiratboi]

Lost Souls Campground - Ollidar

Masterlist

Yandere!MHalfOrcXFatAFAB!G/NReader ~ 11K Words

You met when you were children, and he never spoke. You were childhood best friends. Now, a decade after you last saw him, you've returned to the very campground you grew up seeing him at. You never imagined you'd find him there again.

CW: Monster fucking, noncon/dubcon, stalking, yandere, obsessive relationship, unhealthy relationship, body image issues, bondage, gaslighting, manipulation. Let me know if I missed something.

I re-edited it and changed a few things, and posted it all as one!

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

Every year, your family would vacation in the Moonlight Realm. The pocket universe that had been discovered around 100 years ago. ‘Moonlight Realm’ it was affectionately called because of the creatures who dwelled there. Monsters.

As well as monsters of all kinds, the Moonlight Realm boasted of beautiful scenery, cheap rates, and what humans originally deemed “exotic cultures”.

But the humans and the monsters had settled into a comfortable coexistence, and monsters were far from rare any longer. You grew up with creatures all around you. It was common and equal. The human race had come a long way.

The little cabin you always rented for the whole summer was small and cramped. You, 3 siblings, your parents, and an elderly dog made the 2 bedroom unit feel like a shoebox. From a very young age, you had learned all the best hiding spots and getaways in the park. When you were around 10 years old, you found that apparently someone else had found them too.

A young half orc named Ollidar, or Ollie.

You didn’t speak the same language, and the first time you met, it had been awkward and confusing. You had tried to tell him he was welcome, and that there was enough room for the both of you. He seemed to understand, as he ended up sitting across from you in the small natural clearing that sat just inside the forest.

You probed him with questions, you tried acting things out, you tried writing them down with a stick in the dirt. He didn’t respond. Sometimes it looked like he understood something but he never gave any reply. Just sat there, watching you. Sometimes he’d smile shyly.

The first summer it had been a lot to get used to. He started meeting you every day in the same spot. Sometimes he’d read, or listen to music on his AirPods, but mostly he watched you.

You wasted a few days trying to get him to respond, but since he never did, it slowly switched to you just talking to him. You told him… everything. You had to fill the silence. It would be too awkward if not.

You told him about your friends back home, your cat who you missed terribly and hoped was liking the pet sitter. About your favourite movies, books, foods. You told him about your fears, you weren’t sure why. You told him embarrassing stories. Sometimes you even worried he would think you were lame or weird and leave, but he never did. He just listened.

The summer came to an end and you did your best to tell him goodbye. That you hoped to see him again.

And you would. Every year. Every summer you spent two glorious months glued to each other’s sides. Your families became close through you.  He had a sister and two moms. Your parents got along, and all of your siblings as well.

No one understood why he never spoke. It wasn’t a language barrier anymore. After 7 summers together both families knew more than enough about the other’s language. Enough to communicate with little confusion. He seemed to understand everything. If you asked him to pass you something, he would. If you gave him something he didn’t want, he’d shake his head. But he never spoke.

You stopped going on family vacations when you turned 18. You had moved out, so had most of your siblings. Your parents decided it was time for your own family vacations.

The first summer that you weren’t going, hit you harder than you’d ever imagined. Your chest hurt.

The next year was better.

And the next.

Soon you were 28 and that little half orc was just a fond, albeit, bittersweet memory.

Until your parents decide to do a sort of reunion trip this year. All of your siblings, and their families, plus you and your parents, would be taking a summer vacation to Lost Souls Campground in the Moonlight Realm this year.

It had barely changed. Some machines had been upgraded, the cabins had clearly been renovated to function with modernity, but other wise it was beautiful, serene, and just like you remembered it.

“It’s you.” A strong deep voice full of awe whispered from behind you. You turned around and was met with a face indeed in awe. It took a moment but you realized this was the first time you’d ever heard his voice.

“Oh wow!” You exclaimed. Genuine joy spreading across your face. “You’re here?!” You cried and raced up to him. He didn’t even flinch as you threw yourself at him. His arms opened and he gathered you in a powerful embrace. There was a hint of desperation in the way he clung to your soft body.

You felt a pang of anxiety that had been previously overtaken by the shock of seeing him. You were not thin anymore. And while you loved your body, and felt sexy in it, not everyone else was as comfortable with fat bodies as you were. What if he didn’t want you like this?

Want me like this? What am I thinking?!

You tried to pull yourself away from the hug, but he held tight.

“It’s you…” he muttered into your hair. He was warm, and huge. The orc part of his genes must have been strong. He dwarfed you. It took a lot for someone to make you feel small. Some part of your brain short circuited when you finally registered he had been lifting you. You panicked slightly then, worried about being too heavy and pushed yourself from his chest. He reluctantly lowered you down.

You were blushing from feet to head as you smoothed out your clothes. “Sorry, I… I was just surprised to see you.” You stuttered out. You looked up at his face. He was beautiful. You could see hints of the boy you knew, but he had grown, developed thick muscles, his face thinned out and lengthened.

“You came back.” He replied. His gaze was hyper focused on you. It seemed nothing else registered to him any longer. You squirmed a bit under such overwhelming attention.

“Yeah, we stopped back then, when all of us had moved out. But we are doing a sort of reunion trip this summer!” You explained excitedly. You felt giddy. You didn’t even really understand why. You felt excitement at seeing him.

“Does your family still come here every year?” You asked and leaned around him to see if any of them were standing near by.

“No, just me.” He answered. For the first time since seeing you, his gaze dropped. His cheeks darkened.

“You must really love this ratty old place, huh?” You joked and nudged his arm with your elbow.

“I guess.” He replied, still avoiding eye contact. “So how long are you here for?” He asked.

“The whole summer!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms out wide as if that would show the physical manifestation of time. “I had about a decade of vacations days saved up, so I decided to take the whole summer. Everyone else is just here for a couple weeks.”

He nodded and glanced back up into your eyes. “So just you and your partner are here for the summer? Or do you have kids now?” He asked and dropped his gaze again.

You chuckled. Kind of a transparent attempt my guy. “No, no partner. No kids. Never found anyone willing to put up with me long enough.” You joked self deprecatingly. “You of all people know how much I can talk.” You grimaced at yourself.

“That was my favourite thing about you.” He replied quietly. He seemed nervous. You blushed again. “The way you spoke was mesmerizing.” He continued before, it seemed, he could stop himself.

A manic sounding giggle escaped your lips. “Wow, marry me?” You joked. It was his turn to laugh like a crazy person.

“So, uh,” you continued “how long are you here for?”

“Whole summer.” He answered and smiled up at you. “How solo were you hoping to spend your time?” He ran his hand down the back of his neck and rested it on his shoulder.

You laughed and placed your hand on his arm.

The first few days with Ollie were a little awkward. Not in an uncomfortable way, but in that you didn’t know eachother anymore. It had been a decade since you had spent time together, and while he talked a little more than he used to, it was still few and far in between.

You couldn’t tell if he found it awkward though. He never mentioned it. He just followed you around. He seemed content to just exist nearby you.

The first two weeks breezed by in a flurry of family, kids, games, and way too much food. At the end of it, you waved them goodbye and excitedly hurried back to the little cabin. This would be the first time you’d had it all to yourself.

You pulled the door shut behind you and basked in the quiet for a moment. You could always hear other campers outside. Kids shrieking, vehicles moving, multiple different music sources all floating on top of eachother. And inside was a sort of haven from it all.

You made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink when you found a plate full of cookies, uncovered and still warm on the counter. You were surprised, you hadn’t noticed anyone baking before they’d left? Weird.

You inspected a cookie. Sniffed it, licked it. You didn’t immediately explode, so you shrugged your shoulders to yourself and took a bite. It was a very good cookie. You grabbed a couple more and threw them in a baggie. You gathered some other things, and changed into your bathing suit.

The beach was a short 5 or so minute walk from your cabin, and you munched away at your cookie the whole way. It was a bit overcast, so the beach wasn’t as crowded as it usually was.

You claimed a spot near another family, so that you felt comfortable leaving your stuff alone if you swam, and laid your towel out. You pulled your slinky bathing suit cover over your head and dropped it next to your things.

It was still a bit early in the day to go into the water so you opted for sunbathing with the hopes you’d get all warm and toasty then cool off in the water. Soon you were face down on a towel, your head on your arms, dozing away. You were interrupted by a prolonged blocking of sun rays.

You craned your head up and struggled to make out who it was looming over you with the suns rays blinding you from behind them. You glanced down at their feet next to you and recognized pale green skin.

“You liked the cookies?” Ollies deep voice asked. You were about to say yes, when you processed the implications of him being the one to hand deliver, into your kitchen, without asking, the surprise treat you’d found. You sat up and tugged his hand so he wasn’t standing in front of the sun anymore and you could actually see him.

“Uh, yeah they were good. But, that means you were in my cabin?” You asked incredulously.

“Oh, sorry, was that inappropriate?” He asked, genuine concern seeming to lace his tone. “Sorry, I sometimes…” he trailed off. He looked anxious again. You chose to let him work through what he wanted to say. Words were hard for him, and you wanted him to feel safe sharing them with you. Even if right now you were kind of peeved with him. “Sometimes I don’t understand what’s.. ok, or whatever.” He finished.

“Well, I appreciate your apology. No, going into someone else’s space without their consent, isn’t ok.” You softened. He wasn’t trying to cross a boundary. And he had apologized immediately. “How did you get in anyway?” You queried, already moving on from the emotions.

“I, uh, it was unlocked.” He stuttered out. Your eyebrows knit together. You could have sworn it was locked. But you shrugged past the confusion quickly. How else would he have gotten in?

“Weird. Well, anyway, I do like the cookies, they are delicious and very sweet of you.” You placed your hand on his lower calf where you could reach in a comforting way. “Just next time please knock.” You winked and giggled.

He nodded emphatically.

You and Ollie spent the day at the beach. You realized later that you never actually asked him to join you, but you weren’t displeased that he did. Even after only two weeks, you were pretty used to having him around you again. It was just like when you were kids.

Well, almost. You couldn’t help but notice some of his gazing wasn’t quite as… wholesome as it had been when you were kids. But it didn’t bother you. He wasn’t lewd about it at all, and if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of enjoyed it. Also, you had to admit, you had done some gazing yourself.

He was huge. He was muscled. He was gorgeous, and didn’t seem to be aware of it. He was exquisitely shy around everyone but you. And on top of all that, he seemed to notice only you.

You had watched countless others throw themselves at him, just to be rejected one way or another. More often than not, it seemed he just genuinely didn’t realize he was being hit on. Sometimes he’d be forced into straight up turning someone down, but mostly he’d just give them a puzzled look, and walk away.

Today was no different. You were reaching for the sunscreen when a volleyball sprayed sand all over you. You yelped and sand filled your mouth. A very pretty woman jogged over.

“O-M-G! I am so sorry about that!” She said in one of the fakest voices you’d ever heard. She said it to Ollie, not you, even though he hadn’t been hit with the spray at all. Normally you would have said something sassy, but you were too busy spitting sand from your mouth.

Ollie didn’t respond to her, but he leaned over to grab the volleyball from where it had landed between you.

“I’m Selina!” She said, all bubbly. “I’ve seen you around, you should play with us some time!”

Ollie looked up at her, volleyball still in his hands. He glanced at you. He turned back to her and thrust the ball towards her. He held it tightly in one single hand. You couldn’t help but notice how large his hand was.

“You should be more careful.” He replied, emotionless.

She took the ball and giggled anxiously. “Oh, yeah of course, we totally will.” She smiled awkwardly at you. “So, do you want to come play now?” She shot her shot.

“No.” Ollie replied.

“Aw, come on. We don’t bite.” She joked and wiggled her finger at him.

Ollie glared at her now. His face no longer impassive but furious. It surprised you. He didn’t normally express much emotion visibly.

“First you spray sand all over my partner,” he started.

Partner?!

“Then you apologize to me, not even the one you sprayed.” He continued, his tone developing an edge. The girl raised the hand not holding the ball in front of her and took a hesitant step back.

“THEN you hit on me in front of them, and don’t take no for an answer?” He shook his head at her, his soft black curls bouncing with the movement. “I am so, painfully, not interested.” He finished.

The woman blushed deeper red at each of his words, before spinning on her heel and practically running away.

“That was kind of rude.” You said quietly. You could feel his annoyance rolling off of him.

“Did I say anything untrue?” He asked you. His words were demanding, but his tone was soft. He was always soft with you. He glared in the direction she had ran. 

“Well, not really.” You answered speculatively. “Mostly. Partner?” You asked and turned to look at him.

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I guess that wasn’t true.” He replied. He glanced up at you from the side, but didn’t turn to face you.

“Why did you say it then?” Your voice sounded small, but you felt bold for vocalizing the question pounding in your head.

He turned to look at you for a moment. A fire blazed in his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stared into your eyes. You found you couldn’t look away.

Finally, “Sorry, I guess I wanted more reason to defend you. I felt… more angry than made sense.” He turned to look back down in front of him. You mulled his words for a moment. That made sense. What you still wondered about was the feelings that made him ‘more angry than made sense’.

You reached out and lay a hand on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, but then quickly relaxed into your touch. “Thank you for defending me.” You said quietly. A smile played at his lips. He glanced back at you for just a second.

“Oh, also I think that was the most words I’ve ever heard you say all in a row about the same topic.” You teased him.

Your hand still lay on his shoulder. A part of you recognized the moment was over, and it made sense to remove your hand. But you didn’t. His skin was warm and you could feel his muscles tense and move with him.

You were surprised by a sudden, intense desire to touch him everywhere.

“I like your bathing suit by the way.” He mumbled. You almost didn’t catch it. Your cheeks burned and you stared at him for a second too long. 

You snapped out of it and finally pulled your hand from his shoulder. You found yourself fidgeting with the ties that hung down the side of your string bikini. To be honest, you hadn’t expected to see him here, and this suit was one you normally reserved solely for private sun bathing as it was pretty skimpy. You were suddenly very aware of the soft rolls on your sides. The way your thighs pressed together. 

“Oh, really?” Your laugh had a slight edge. “My mom told me it’s not… flattering on my body.” You didn’t know why you told him that. It was embarrassing. Not only had your mother insulted you, but she’d body shamed you. And now you were telling the absolute hunk of a man sitting next to you looking like an Adonis? “But I like it, still.” You finished lamely. 

You looked up then to see Ollie staring at you. The fire in his eyes had returned. The same fire he’d had when you asked him why he’d called you his partner. “It’s very flattering. Your mother is a lovely woman, but clearly blind.” He spoke with an almost comedic level of seriousness. You fought the instinct to brush off the compliment. You didn’t want to. You wanted to believe him. 

You tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled to yourself. “Thank you.” Your voice was soft. 

After that day on the beach, Ollie became significantly more protective of you. More possessive. He was always around you. He brought you coffee and breakfast, he fixed little things around the cabin for you, he planned activities for you both to do.

You wouldn’t have thought him a hardcore hobby guy, but he took you rock climbing, and snorkelling. He took you to a local pottery studio, he brought you to the library in town. He always had you doing something.

It was starting to drive you crazy.

You had wanted to relax?! Not that you didn’t enjoy the activities, and his company, but it never stopped. You were on vacation. You had planned to lie on the beach for two months straight, eating, drinking, and probably smoking a lot of weed. Now here you were, sober, and painting in the woods.

You felt guilty. This was a beautiful activity, and you were genuinely enjoying it. But it just hadn’t been what you planned for. You would have loved a few things here and there, but not every day, all day long.

You decided to tell him that evening. The painting class ended, and you were actually pretty pleased with your work. It was a life painting of the little waterfall and pond the class had been set up next to. You weren’t anything special, but you were proud of it nonetheless.

Ollie jumped into his old, open jeep and carefully placed both of your paintings behind his seat. He leaned across the bench seat to offer you his hand. He pulled you up onto the bench like you weighed nothing. It’s something he must have done 100 times by now, but every single time, you blushed like a fool. Your core heated at the casual way he handled you. 

“You’re not heavy, you know.” Ollie broke the silence as you headed back to the camp.

“… what?” You asked, confused.

“You always look so worried after I help you into the car.” He glanced at you then back to the road. “You’re not heavy.” He stated matter of factly

You blushed again. He had no idea.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’m worried about that.” You lied lamely. You’d always been bad at lying. You chewed on your lip.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Ok, so if that’s not it,” His voice was smooth and deep. He didn’t speak much. Even now. He mostly used basic gestures to communicate. But sometimes, when you were alone, he’d talk. You loved it. More than you probably should have. A warmth spread from the centre of you and radiated out. “what is it then?” He continued, pulling you out of your own thoughts.

“Uh, what is what then?” You replied, hoping he’d drop it if you pretended not to understand.

“Why do you blush so hard every time you get in my vehicle?” He asked. There was no getting around that one.

You sighed to yourself. Do you tell him? What the hell, you thought to yourself. What does it matter if he thinks you’re a horny slut? He’s just some guy you’re going to see for another month and a half, then never again. Who cares… right?

“I… gods this is embarrassing,” you started. You saw his one eyebrow raise. “It’s… ok… it’s hot as fuck, ok?” You forced out. You could feel how warm your cheeks were. This was worse than you thought it would be. You cared more than you liked.

“… what’s hot?” He asked slowly. You died a little. Of COURSE he was going to make you spell it out.

“Omg Ollie, I just… I’m not… small alright? So having a very attractive man casually lift me like it’s nothing?” You stared out the open window, unable or unwilling to look at him. “That’s really hot.”

He nodded slowly beside you. You could see in your peripheral that his cheeks had also darkened.

“Is it hot because any man is lifting you, or because I’m lifting you?” He finally asked.

Jesus Christ

“You know,” you started, your voice an octave too high. “I REALLY haven’t given it much thought.”

It was silent in the car for a long time.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore. “So…”

He didn’t look at you. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“So what are we doing tonight?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He replied, too quickly. Your heart fell. Here it was. Just like always.

You were quiet the rest of the drive. He dropped you off at your cabin. Normally he’d jump out and open your door for you. Not tonight. Had you really read him that wrong?

You shut the door behind you and turned around to speak. Before you could, he shifted the gear and drove slowly away.

You spent the evening alternating between disappointed, embarrassed and annoyed. It surprised you how hard it was to keep your mind off of it. Normally rejection rolled off of you. You were pretty used to it, unfortunately. Dating while fat was… something else.

But this was different somehow. You cared this time. It hit you like a truck when you realized it. For the first time, in a very long time, you cared.

You hated it. You hated giving someone that power. Being vulnerable wasn’t something you did well.

You had spent your entire life being “too much”. You were too big, both in personality and body. You were too loud, you had too many emotions, and thoughts. You talked too much. And people were not scared to tell you. You couldn’t even count the times and ways people had defined you as “too much”. The blatant words, the subtle actions, the micro aggressions. That was your life.

But not him. He had told you his favourite thing about you was how much you talked. Which, honestly, felt fake, but it was hard not to believe his genuine eyes. He had done so many things to make you think he…

You instinctively shut down that train of thought. You shouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s made it clear you read things wrong.

The next day came slowly. It was raining. You rolled over in bed, not eager to start the day. You debated going back to sleep, when you heard dishes clinking.

You shot up, fear ripping through your chest. Had you imagined that? No. You heard it again.

A chill settled in your bones as you carefully, silently, crawled out of bed. You wore a skimpy tank top that barely covered you. It was low cut, you never wore a binder/bra, you didn’t need to, you had been blessed with only tiny handfuls for tits, and it rested under your waist showing your lower stomach. The booty shorts you wore didn’t make things any better. They were practically underwear. You debated trying to throw more clothes on, but knew the closet doors creaked.

The little cabin was small, but the bedrooms were on one side, and the kitchen on the complete opposite. You made your way towards it, picking up a badminton racket on the way. It had been discarded in the hallway after another one of your activities with Ollie.

You raised the racket above your shoulder and took a deep breath to steel yourself. This was it. You slowly stepped around the corner. Your mind filled with murderers and villains.

The tall, pale green half orc that was bent over the stove with his back to you was not what you were expecting. You practically sobbed with relief.

“Ollie?!” You demanded, your voice cracking and sounding a lot more desperate than you’d like. He turned slightly, but didn’t look away from whatever he was doing.

“Good morning!” He said cheerily. “Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to make you breakfast to make up for yesterday.” He continued. You noticed now milk and eggs on the counter. The smell of food wafted towards you.

You didn’t say anything. Your brain was struggling to compute. You had like 7 questions. How had he got in? Why did he do this? Why did he think it was ok? But most importantly, what does he mean ‘make up for yesterday’?!

Just as you realized you’d been standing there, slackjawed, not answering, for far too long, he turned. As soon as he saw you, he froze. His cheeks went dark green and the flipper he was holding clattered to the ground. You were confused for about .02 whole seconds before you remembered you were almost naked.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.” You blurted out and raced back to your room. You threw the door shut and leaned against it. What the hell was he doing here? In your cabin! While you were asleep!

Your mind raced as you threw a loose tee over the tank, and a pair of thin sweats on. You made your way back to the kitchen.

“Ollie, I think we need to talk about boundaries-” you started. You stopped when you noticed the front door was open. You looked from the door to the kitchen. He was gone. A thin plume of smoke started on the stove. Something was burning.

A quick toss of the pan into the sink dealt with that. You turned off the burner and leaned on the counter in bafflement.

No, fuck that! He doesn’t get to just run away from this!

You ran after him.

You stormed down the little path, through the camp, and straight to Ollies cabin. You always thought his cabin looked less like a vacation home, and more like a regular home.

Three raps rung out as you knocked on the front door.

No answer.

You were like 90% sure he had gone home.

“Ollie, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” You called. It was silent for a long moment. You almost began second guessing yourself.

“I… I can’t.” Came softly from inside.

Can’t?! CAN’T?!

“Like HELL you can’t!” You shouted through the door. You cringed slightly when you ended up being louder than you’d meant. A couple walking by stared at you. You raised your hand and smiled unconvincingly.

“Ollie,” you continued, a bit quieter. “You just broke into my cabin while I was sleeping. We are talking about this, right now.” You gritted your teeth. “Open. The. Door.” You left no room for discussion.

A long moment passed with no reply. You fidgeted. Just when you had started to consider squeezing your ass through a window, his voice came through the door.

“It’s open.” He answered.

Oh.

You turned the handle and pushed the door open. He sat, in the afternoon light filtering through the window, on his couch, head hung so you couldn’t see his face, with a large pillow gripped in front of him.

He looked sad. You hadn’t expected sad. You don’t know what you’d expected, but not sad. You steeled your resolve.

“Ok, this has gone too far.” You started. “You’re a great guy, but you don’t seem to understand boundaries, so I’m going to lay them out, clear as day, and if you cross them again, that’s going to be it, Ollie.” You finished and crossed your arms. He looked up through his curls. He looked like he was in agony. You instinctively took a step back, surprised by his intense reaction.

You shook your head, trying not to let those puppy dog eyes break you down. “How do you keep getting into my cabin?” You demanded. “And don’t give me some shit about it being unlocked. I know it was locked last night.”

He looked up, further. His eyes scanned your face. He seemed to be debating if he wanted to answer. You waited.

Finally “I… have a key.” He said, guilt lacing his words.

“A KEY?!” You practically shouted. “Where the hell did you get a key?!”

He groaned and leaned back on the couch. He ran his hand across his face. “I own it.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?” You said slowly, dangerously.

“I, I bought the campground a few years ago.”

“You own the ENTIRE campground?!” You demanded. Your voice had started to enter dog whistle pitches.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands. The large pillow was squished and stuck out at weird angles.

“You never came back.” He said quietly. The dam broke. “One day, you just never came back. 4 years went by and I did everything I could to find you. No one had information, no one knew how to contact you or your family. I kept coming back every year, desperate to see you again, to hear you again. But you were never here.”

He glanced up at you. You felt numb. His eyes were filled with sorrow.

“4 years after you last came they were going to shut it down. It hadn’t been doing as great and the owners were old. They told us it would be the last year. I had some money from my grandparents inheritance, and…” he shook his head at himself.

“I couldn’t let the only connection I had to you disappear. Even if you never came back, all those places we had spent time in, the feelings I had for you, here I got to live in them. I felt you everywhere. Every little memory.”

His cheeks were a deep dark green, but he seemed unable to stop the flow of words from his mouth for the first time in your entire lives.

“I made a lot of changes, put a ton of work in, and the campground is doing great now. This is my life here. I don’t run the day to day anymore, but I live here, I maintain it.”

He looked back down at the ground. “And you finally came back.”

You stood there, stunned. Long moments of uneasy silence passed between you.

“Ollie this…” you didn’t even know what to say. Panic started to rise in your throat. “This is too mu-” you heard yourself start to say it. The words you’d heard your entire life. Too much.

“I need to go.” You blurted out and turned to leave. A noise came from behind you.

Ollie grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him. He pushed you against the door, your back to it. He held you there with his hands against the door next to your head. His huge arms framed your face and he bent down to look at you. His face was so close.

“Please, don’t go, just listen, I-” he stuttered. Desperation filled his eyes. Frustration filled yours.

“No!” You shouted. “You don’t get to stop me. You don’t get anything!” You poked his chest, jabbing your finger accusingly. “You don’t get to reject me then tell me you’re obsessed with me!” You spat, the words cruel. You didn’t care. Your nerves were frayed. You didn’t know how to handle yourself after his confession. His obsession.

Confusion pulled his eyebrows together. “Reject you…?” He asked. You blushed. You hadn’t meant to bring that up. But apparently even now, your stupid little monkey brain could only think about that.

“Yesterday.” He still didn’t understand. “And today.” He grimaced but still seemed not to understand. You rolled your eyes and ran your hand through your hair. “You’re so dense sometimes.” You muttered.

“Yesterday, I told you… that I thought you were hot, and how turned on I was, ok? And then you just ran away.” You couldn’t look up at him not with his face so close. Not with his eyes boring into yours. Not with his lips just inches away. “And then today, you see me in skimpy clothes and run away again.” You couldn’t believe you were about to say it. “Like, I get if I’m not your type, but… I guess I just thought you felt differently ok?” You looked up into his eyes for one second before looking back down. The desperation hadn’t gone away, but it looked hungrier than before.

“This doesn’t even matter, I shouldn’t be talking about this right now.” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed softly. He didn’t move. “I need to process what you just told me, and I’m not thinking right.”

“I didn’t run away because I wasn’t into you.” He said. His voice was surprisingly hoarse. Gravel had filled his throat. You looked up in surprise. His cheeks had a new kind of heat to them. Hunger filled his eyes. But there was also fear. You could see how unsure he was.

“I ran away, both times, because I was about one second away from throwing you to the ground and fucking you.” Your breath caught. Your eyebrows pulled together slightly. You shouldn’t be so happy to hear that, you thought. He’s crazy. He’s obsessed with you. Like actually.

But he’d never hurt you.

A small voice in the back of your mind said.

“I love you.” He held your eyes. His gaze softened slightly. The hunger didn’t go though. Neither did the fear. “I always have. I could listen to you talk for the rest of my life. You’re funny, witty, gorgeous, and a bit of a dumbass.” He smirked. “I would do anything for you.” You believed him. “Just give me a chance to show you.”

He moved one hand from beside your head to rest it on your waist. He pulled himself into you. His hard chest pressed against yours, the solid door against your back. You couldn’t breathe.

You felt hot. You felt like you were standing on a knife’s blade. Fall into him, into this crazy, terrifying fantasy, or fall back into reality. What if you could make fantasy a reality? Did you even want that? Some rational part of you screamed. He had been in your home while you slept. He bought an entire huge business because he might get to see you again. He was obsessed with you. He was dangerous. How many times had he let himself in while you slept? What could he have done?

You felt yourself shaking your head before you’d decided to. You pushed your hand on his chest again. “Ollie, I need some space. I need to think.” You said.

“Please,” he begged. “Please just let me show you how well I can take care of you. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” Some part of you wanted that to be true. Wanted him to be true. But could you handle the obsession? What if it went deeper, darker.

You shook your head again and he let out an exasperated groan. “You’re not giving me a chance.” He complained. And edge of mania had started to show in his voice and expressions. “I need to show you. If you just let me show you, then it will all be ok.” He spoke fast and low. You felt his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, then the hem of the tank top underneath.

“Ollie-” you warned.

“No, no, just, you don’t understand.” He cut you off. He leaned down and kissed your neck. You froze. “I’ve been waiting years for you. You think now that I’ve finally got you back, I’m going to let you go?” Darkness seeped at the edges of your vision as fear took hold. “That moment a month ago changed my life, and I’ve spent every second since learning about you.”

His hand on your waist tucked under your tank, and he placed it against your ribs. His hand was huge. Almost comically so. And it rested just inches from your chest. No fabric separating you any longer. All he had to do was move up.

His other hand came down to hold the back of your neck. He pressed you even harder against the door. His breath was ragged as he kissed up and down your neck and shoulder in between words.

“I know what you like. I know how you like it. I’ve watched you.” A sob wracked through your chest at that. The first time you’d reacted outwardly since he started kissing you.

“You’re so lonely. I’ve heard you cry in your bed at night. I’ve heard you beg to be loved. That’s what I want to do, baby.” He pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. “Let me love you.”

“Let me love you.” Ollies plea rang through your head. He was so close. Too close.

“Let me make you feel good, love.” He said. He pushed his knee between your legs, parting them. You gasped and wiggled but he held you firm between his hand on your waist and his arm bracing the door by your head.

You didn’t know what to do. You could scream. Somehow that felt like the wrong thing to do. You knew you weren’t thinking straight. You could feel your cunt throb against his leg.

“I want to show you how well I know you.” He nuzzled into your neck, nipping at your soft flesh. You couldn’t help the half sob, half moan that ripped from your chest. “I want to show you how well I can take care of you.” He pleaded with you. He raised his knee and ground into your clit through your clothes. You moaned and tried pushing him away. He didn’t budge.

“Please, Ollie, don’t-” you tried to beg him to let you go. Just as you started talking he reached up under your shirts and rolled his thumb over your nipple. You choked on your words.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.” He whispered into your neck. “But I thought you’d never look at me that way. Until yesterday.” He squeezed the nipple he was rolling. Your back arched instinctively and you pushed yourself into his body. He groaned.

“Everything about you is so expressive.” He practically growled. The words flowed like they’d never been stopped up before. “I used to imagine you were singing. The melody of your voice. I would play beautiful instruments in my mind worthy of keeping up with you.”

He ran his lips up your neck to your jawline. You felt him tremble slightly. He didn’t kiss you there. He just lingered. “I wished a thousand times I could talk to you. That I could open my mouth and words even half as clever as yours could fall out.”

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. You were still pressed against him, your pussy was resting, and throbbing on his leg. His thumb rolled your nipple slowly while he spoke.

“But you didn’t force me to talk. You were ok to let me be silent. I never got to thank you for that.” You saw a pain flash through his eyes. He didn’t break eye contact and you found yourself unable to. You were surprised when your own heart throbbed at his pain. “You were… are the only person in my entire life to accept me as I am, no expectations.”

He kissed you. It was soft, warm, but just like everything else, desperate. You didn’t move for a moment. You didn’t know what to do. He kissed you harder, and you felt his anxiety rise. The panic that you weren’t going to kiss him back. You felt how badly he wanted you to kiss him back.

And then you realized, you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him. Not like this, but you did. Some where along the lines, you’d developed feelings for this huge, stupid hot, and completely crazy man. You knew it was dangerous. The fear chilled you. But the desire warmed you right back up.

Suddenly you were kissing him back. Your hands were in his hair, on his neck, his shoulders. He leaned in even further, crushing you against his chest. His other hand came down to your neck and gripped you tightly. The hand on your chest explored further, touching all of you. Just as quickly as it started, it became overwhelming.

“Ollie, stop, not like this.” You said in between kisses. You tried pushing him back again. He growled again, but this time it was frustrated, feral.

“Stop pushing me away.” His words were heavy with warning. “You want this, me. I know you do. Just let me show you how good i can be. How i can make you feel.” He spun you around faster than you could react. He pressed you against the door, his hard cock pressing into your lower back. He twisted one of your arms behind your back and held you there. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you wont give me a chance.” His other hand snaked back under your shirt and pinched your nippled, hard. You gasped. “I know you’ll love it, eventually.”

Tears started to spill from your eyes silently. You didn’t fight back. You knew there was no point. He was so much bigger and stronger than you. It was more than just that though. For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to. If he was telling the truth, he knew exactly what kind of things you liked. You knew how wet your pussy was already. Being taken against your will was probably your number one fantasy.

BUT IT IS JUST A FANTASY

You shouted inside your mind. You should be screaming. Fighting, kicking, anything! And yet, as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, all you could do was think about how hot that was. He threw you around like you weighed nothing. And he wanted you, so badly. You had never been desired like this before. Not to these extremes.

He threw you down on his huge, orc sized bed. It was reinforced with a thick wood frame. You instinctively curled into the fetal position. The tears hadn’t stopped, even if you didn’t really feel that sad. You were in a strange state of disconnection. On one hand you logically understood how wrong this all was. How dangerous this was. What he was about to do to you. But emotionally, you couldn’t care less. You were dripping wet, and the way he felt about you gave you butterflies. The way he talked about you and his feelings for you, made you feel valuable. It wasn’t something you had experienced much in your life. What he had said about you being the only one to accept him, rang in your mind. Was he that for you? Could you accept what he was about to do to you because he was the only person you had never been too much for?

You could give him permission, you thought. Then at least it wouldn’t be r*pe. But a part of you knew no matter what happened, it still would be. And another, quieter, more insidious part knew you’d rather it be forced. To finally fulfill that deepest darkest fantasy.

Ollie stood over your curled body on his bed. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered. He didn’t seem to be speaking to you, but about you. It made you blush regardless. What was wrong with you? He bent down and tried to pry your limbs apart. You held to yourself tightly.

“Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to, but you need to listen to me.” The warning had returned to his words. You didn’t relax your position, but when he tried again to move your body, you allowed it this time. “Good pet.” He purred, satisfaction lacing his voice. Your cunt throbbed at his words. He slowly raised you up to a sitting position.

“Take off your shirt, love.” He said softly, but with intent. You found yourself staring into his eyes while you crossed your arms across your chest to reach for the hem on either side. You paused. He nodded once, and you slowly pulled both shirts up and over your head. His breath caught as your chest was revealed. You were surprised to find he hadn’t stoped looking into your eyes, and after the shirt was past your face, your gazes caught again. You blushed and squirmed under his intense eye contact. Instinctively, you lifted your arms to cover your chest. He raised one eyebrow in a disapproving way and you froze. He reached out and gripped both of your forearms.

“If you can’t keep your arms down, I’m going to have to restrain them. This is your only warning.” You lowered them and he smiled. Your heart thudded in your chest, his approval suddenly the most important thing. Where had that shy boy gone? Where did this confident, dominant man taken over? He moved forward, kneeling with one knee in between your legs. He pushed you gently until you were lying on your back on the bed.

Ollie lifted one of your legs, and started tugging at the hem of your sweats. it suddenly became too much again and you bolted back up. Your hands gripped his on the cuff of your pants. “Wait,” you panicked.

Ollie sighed. “I warned you.” You didn’t understand for a moment, until he reached by the beds headboard and pulled an already attached silk tie out. One end was tied to the frame. An alarm went off in your head that you silenced immediately upon realising he’d prepared for some eventuality of tying you up. He quickly grabbed your right hand and started tying it tightly to the headboard. Now the panic really set in. It was too real. You started crying in earnest, blabbering and begging. You weren’t coherent. Even you didn’t know what you were saying.

It was too late.

With one hand tied, he snatched the other and repeated. You pulled and wiggled, but he clearly knew what he was doing. The ties were soft, and not tight enough to hurt, but the knots themselves were solid. He returned to slowly removing your pants.

“Please Ollie, it’s not too late, you can stop still.” You pleaded. You honestly didn’t know if you meant it or not.

“Baby, you know I can’t stop.” He replied in a patronizing voice. “I need you, don’t you understand that?” He pulled the sweatpants fully off, and you were left in only your little shorts that were basically underwear. The cold air answered the reality you had been dreading. You were soaked. Your shorts definitely had a wet spot. And if you somehow hadn’t been sure already, the look of pure, animalistic satisfaction that spread over Ollies face, solidified it.

“I knew you’d like it.” He said smugly. “I told you, i know what you like.” He leaned forward, knee in between your legs again. He brought his face next you yours and whispered in your ear. ‘I know you’re a desperate slut, just begging to be fucked into oblivion.” He placed his huge palm against your clothed cunt. The heat was tangible. “Luckily for you, I’m happy to oblige.” He teased. His voice cavalier and excited. It was like he couldn’t understand how far past ok he had gone. He raised his hand from your cunt and brought it back down in a swift, hard smack. You cried out, not able to stifle yourself. It devolved into a long drawn out moan. “You can’t lie to me, beautiful.”

He turned and kissed you, hard, frantically. His hands roamed over your body. He ground his knee up into your clit again. Your breath hitched as you tried desperately not to moan again. He pulled himself away and looked down at your still clothed pussy. He looked mesmerized.

Ollie slowly hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged down. You pushed your ass into the bed, trying to keep the shorts from pulling down. He glanced up at you, a look of impatience on his face. “Lift.” He demanded. You relented. The shorts peeled from your skin, highlighting just how wet you were. You squirmed in embarrassment both from the exposure and the fact you were dripping. He folded the shorts and tucked them into his pants pocket. You didn’t miss that he had tossed all of your other clothes.

He leaned forward, hand reaching for you, but you started wiggling violently, trying to close your legs. “Wait, wait, Ollie, no you need-” He stopped and smacked your inner thigh, hard. You cried out, the tears redoubling. You pulled at your restraints and tried to push your legs from their positions on either side of him. He held them down.

“Do you need me to tie your legs up too?” He said condescendingly. You cried, not answering. “Hmm? And maybe a gag too?” He started leaning back, reaching for something behind him.

“No no no no, Ollie, that’s not what i mean, stop, just listen to me a second.” You begged. You sighed with relief when he paused and looked back at you.

“It’s just...” You started, then suddenly felt shy. He waited. “It’s just, you can’t touch me… yet.” He cocked his head, clearly perplexed. You wished you could hide your face. “You can’t.. I can’t…” He held your eyes, not giving you an out. “I can’t be the only one naked.” You spat out finally.

You don’t think you could ever describe the look that crossed his face then. You understood you were basically giving him permission now. And you were no longer fighting it in any way but for show. He had you, and he knew it. Thankfully, he didn’t rub it in your face.

Ollie leaned back up, until he was resting on his own legs, bent and still in between your open thighs. He smirked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You’d see him shirtless many times. It was a campground with a beach after all. But this time, with the settings, the circumstances, it was much more intense. The daylight filtered in through a window, and no other lights were on. Thin curtains stopped anyone from seeing inside, but did little for the light. He was muscular and toned, the light rays almost illuminating him. He was beautiful, and not overly ripped, but clearly did a lot of physical work.

The green of his skin was slightly paler than on his arms, but was replaced with a surprising amount of freckles. You hadn’t really noticed them before, but now that he was so close and you were hyper aware of everything, you saw how his skin was covered with tiny, barely visible freckles.

He started undoing the buttons on his pants. His cock was visibly hard through them. Your breath caught. You squirmed at the idea of being utterly taken by him. He hooked his thumbs under the hem of both his pants and boxers. He leaned up as if to pull them down, but stopped and raised and eyebrow.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice leaving no room for defiance.

“Wh… what?” You asked.

“What do you want?” He asked again, enunciating each word.

“I…” you couldn’t believe he was making you say it. “I want you to take off your clothes.” You said, finally. “Please.”

He sighed hearing that, and continued pulling them down. His hard dick sprang out and it was huge just like everything else about him. You were halfway between excited and terrified. You didn’t think it would fit.

“Don’t worry love” he said, reading your expression. “We will get you nice and ready first.” He leaned over your body, his chest pressing onto yours. His dick rested against your thigh. He leaned in to your ear and whispered “and I’m not going to fuck you until you ask me to.”

He sunk two fingers deep into your cunt with no warning.

You cried out and arched your back. His fingers alone were probably thicker than any cock you’d taken. His eyes were glued on your face. 

“I love you so much. I’ve been in love with you my entire life. I tried dating other people, I tried letting them in, but I couldn’t. I always compared them to you.” He spoke softly as he fucked his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. 

“I never felt safe enough to open up, and then there you were. Finally back. At first I was scared you wouldn’t recognize me. But you did. Then I was scared you wouldn’t like me, but you did. It was just like we were kids again. I almost kissed you that day.” You tried focusing on his words while he lazily thrusted into you. He was clearly not trying to make you cum. Just rile you up. You squirmed under his touch and words. It felt strange and alien to have someone want you so much. 

“I spent years telling myself if I ever saw you again, I’d talk. I’d tell you everything. About myself, about my feelings. But then I saw you, and I was a kid again. A dumb kid with a crush and no ability to do anything about it.” He kissed your neck and chest while he spoke. You felt worshipped. “It didn’t make it any easier that you’re just ridiculously attractive.” You gripped the ties holding your wrists. The fear was bleeding out of you with every word. 

His tone shifted. “I know I fucked up, I know I’m not… not a good person, I’m so sorry.” He sounded genuine. A pain you didn’t expect, while he was fingering you no less, laced his tone. You believed him, despite his apparent unwillingness to stop. 

“Ollie,” you said breathlessly. He paused his kissing and looked up at you. “We,” you moaned between your words. “We can talk about that shit later, ok?” You found yourself smiling at his dumb face. 

It was that moment you realised you might be just as crazy as he was. You wanted him to fuck you. It didn’t matter to you that a few moments ago you were crying and begging him to stop. You wanted him. You were pretty sure it wasn’t just because you were desperately writhing on his fingers. Pretty sure. 

He smiled back and slowed his movements until he stopped altogether. He didn’t say anything and just looked down at you, smiling like a fool. You whimpered and ground yourself against his fingers. He groaned in response. 

“I can’t believe you thought I wasn’t into you.” He teased. 

“I can’t believe a lot of things, ok? I’m a self conscious idiot, and you might be a crazy stalker, I haven’t decided yet.” He chuckled and thrusted his fingers deep into you, once. You moaned loudly. 

“Please.” You said, almost by accident. A dark, hungry look covered his face. 

“Please what, beautiful?” His voice had lost all joviality. He was dead serious now. The words he’d been waiting his entire life for, were so close. 

You squirmed on his fingers. He stayed still, staring into your eyes. “Ollie…” you trailed off. You looked away from him. You knew he was going to make you say it, but you really didn’t want him to. You felt embarrassed begging for him. 

“Please say it.” He asked quietly. You were surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Your eyes dragged back to his and you could easily see the precipice he sat on. A similar one you teetered on earlier. One simple sentence and you both could have everything. Fall into the reality of what he’d done, into the messy, scary world of pushing everything good away to hold a place for the bad he’d done and the way he’d hurt you. And he had hurt you. Or, you could both plunge into the fantasy, the dream, the feelings you’d longed for your whole lives. To belong. To be loved. To be accepted as you were. 

You took a steadying breath. You could see he was trying to not react yet, but the fear and worry in his brow was unmistakable. “Ollie, what you did wasn’t ok. And how you handled this wasn’t right. I honestly don’t know how to forgive you.” 

His face fell. He didn’t look upset with you. 

“But,” his breath caught as you continued. “I’d like to try.” You smiled softly at him. Your heart throbbed as he hesitantly smiled back at you. 

“Please, for the love of gods, please fuck me.” You spoke with conviction. 

He didn’t waste time. In seconds his huge fingers were replaced with his huge cock. He teased your entrance, coating his dick in your wetness. He leaned forward and kissed you deeply. It wasn’t desperate any longer. It was passionate and hungry and eager. 

He slid the tip of his cock into you and you groaned at the stretch. “Fuck you’re tight.” He practically breathed into your ear. 

“You’re so big.” You whined out. 

“I know you can take me, baby.” He peppered your face with kisses while he pushed further. His breath hitched as he claimed another inch. He was moving painstakingly slow. You knew he was doing it for you, to not hurt you any further, but he was also driving you crazy. Every bit he sunk into you, you were desperate for more. You wanted to be absolutely filled but him, to be taken and owned. You wanted his powerful body ramming into yours. 

You squirmed and tried pushing back against his cock. Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Please…” you trailed off. 

“Are you ready?” He asked, incredulous. You nodded and chewed on your lip. You gazed up at him above you. His eyes were heavy lidded and his face was flushed. He was so beautiful. He smiled down at you and gently cupped your cheek. 

And then he was inside you. He thrust the rest of the way, in one, hard push. You screamed, fear at being heard forgotten. He chuckled and covered your mouth with his hand. It dwarfed your face. He held your jaw while he pulled out and sunk back in. 

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you. The extreme stretch started feeling more comfortable and your screams turned to moans behind his hand. Ollie pressed his fingers against your lips and you opened your mouth. Two thick fingers played with your tongue. He worked them deep to the back of your throat. He held them there, slightly gagging you on them. He smirked. 

“Say it again.” His tone teasing but his eyes serious. 

“Say wha-at” you sputtered out between thrusts and his fingers. His smirk twisted the other way and he frowned slightly. His pace slowed and after a couple more thrusts, he stopped moving. He pulled his fingers from your mouth. “Why…” you panted. 

“Ask me to fuck you.” His eyes lit up at the prospect. 

“You just were, why did you stop?” You complained and ground your hips into his. He snapped his hands tight to your waist and held you in place. “Ollie…” you whined. You gave him the best doe eyes you could. 

“I told you what I want.” His voice was stern but you could read his amusement. He liked seeing you desperate for him. 

“Why do you keep making me say embarrassing things?!” You demanded. You tried moving on his still deep cock once more and his grip tightened to a painful extent. You’d have bruises for sure. 

“Keep saying them.” He leaned forward to suck on your neck. You gasped as he worked a dark hickey into your skin. You whined without words, desperately trying to instigate his movement again. He held you tight, moving down your neck to your chest, leaving a line of deepening bruises in his wake. 

You realised he wasn’t going to let you out of saying it before you finally actually started talking. You tried putting it off as long as possible but he wasn’t wrong when he said he knew how to make you feel good. You were getting past desperate and moving to unashamed and wanton. 

Finally, “Please Ollie, please fuck me.” He grinned against your skin. You didn’t stop. A string of only semi coherent pleas spilled from your lips. “I want to feel you cum in me, I want to feel you wreck me.” Some part of you still held onto that embarrassment, but mostly you didn’t care anymore. And Ollie loved it. The most beautiful sounds in the worlds were of you begging for him. 

He snapped his hips back into motion and your pleas shifted to half moaned words and expletives. You had been brought close and denied, your pleasure slowly building but never releasing, and whether he meant to or not, he had you at the brink in moments. 

Your orgasm ripped through you with almost no warning. You cried out his name and gripped his back, nails digging in like claws. Your passion threw him over the edge as well and he trapped your lips in a rough kiss as you felt his hot cum flood your insides. You felt more full than you even thought possible. 

You rode out your orgasms locked tightly together, his hips stuttering as the last few ropes filled your already full cunt. Everything that had happened, the emotions, the hormones, wiped your mind right out, and before he had even pulled out, you were dozing in Ollie's arms underneath him. 

**********

You woke, apparently hours later, since no light came through the windows. The room was dim, but the door was open and light spilled through from somewhere else. You were wrapped in Ollies massive bed, several blankets layered on and around you, pillows framing your body. It was like a cozy nest and you snuggled in deeper. 

The smell of food wafted in from the rest of the home and you thought you heard low humming. You couldn’t help grinning to yourself. You had a hot, huge half orc making you food after railing you? Yeah, you could get used to that. 

You heard soft steps coming towards the room and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to stay in this moment for a little bit longer. You heard Ollie pause at the door. He stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. Did he know you were awake?

You opened one eye just the barest amount, just so you could see. You hoped it wasn’t obvious. You told yourself it was dark in the room. You could see Ollie’s form, arms crossed over his broad chest. He leaned against the doorframe, face split with a wide smile. You still couldn’t tell if he knew you were awake. 

He stood like that for longer than you’d expected. Long enough that your pretend sleeping became real. You drifted in and out, hovering right between awake and asleep. 

You surfaced as you felt Ollie’s lips gently press into your forehead. You nuzzled against his face, and his breath caught. Ollie’s fingers danced along your jaw as you slipped back under. 

[qqueenofhades]

Not that anything's a for sure bet but my read on the general situation re: Harris-Walz is that there's going to be a lot less headwind to fight for Harris specifically as opposed to Clinton because the amazing right wing media hasn't had twenty years for poison to seep into the layperson's thoughts about Clinton's "worthiness"

Well, that and the fact that the MAGA crowd are just really, really bad strategic planners (especially since a solid 75% of their strategy is "lol we'll just cheat and win it that way, we don't need anything else.") They howled for 3.5 years about how Biden was too old to serve and should step down, and then when he did, they had zero plan how to run against Kamala and Trump is now practically begging Biden to magically get back into the race and save him. They ran an anti-Shapiro influence campaign by encouraging the antisemitic online left and planning to exploit the issue among Democrats divided on Israel/Gaza, then furiously melted down when Walz was picked and had no plan to deal with him either. Fascism is a helluva drug, kiddos. Don't try it at home.

The reason Harris has been able to rocket so high is simple, which is that she's channeling Obama 08 energy in more ways than one. Obama also came onto the national political scene four years before (with his speech at the 2004 DNC) and four years later, he was the party's nominee. It didn't even matter that he was a skinny brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama, because people were so tired of the chaos and war and incompetence of Bush Jr that they latched onto a simple message of hope and change and the historical nature of his candidacy felt like an optimistic risk worth taking. Why couldn't it be time for the first African American president? Yes, of course, there was incredible vitriol and we are still dealing with that backlash in some ways now, but still.

As I have said before, Trump is technically not the incumbent, but the last 8 years have been dominated by his hatred, chaos, division, rage, and treason in a way even Bush could never quite manage, and when people get to that point, there's a lot of coiled-up energy that has at last come bursting out. We needed Biden's old-moderate-white-man cred to defeat Trump as the sitting president in 2020, when most of his worst scandals hadn't even happened yet, but this is not 2020 (or 2016) and the dynamic is different. We are now on offense and playing to win, people have readily and eagerly embraced the absolute god tier karma that would come from a black female prosecutor finally ending the Orange Menace's reign of terror once and for all, and the Republicans are spitting smoke and spinning gears running frantically through their usual tired old stupid cliche attacks. GAY TRANS EVIL BIRTHERISM SWIFTBOAT FOREIGN FAR LEFT COMMIE LIBERAL HEATHEN!! they scream desperately, trying to find something that sticks. Except this time, no matter how hard the corporate media tries to help them out, nobody is listening. Nobody is buying it. We know exactly what BS they're trying and we're just shrugging and going "Yeah, no. Weird."

It absolutely helps that Kamala is not dragging the ball and chain of 20 years of Republican smear attacks, yes. But there are a lot of reasons why the GOP is imploding before our eyes and it's probably now more statistically likely that there is a blue tsunami than it is that Trump wins. I still cannot, CANNOT, believe it has been barely three fucking weeks. If this is a dream don't want to wake up, etc. Let me goddamn stay in this timeline just a little longer. And if we do the work, we can in fact make it that way, and Yeah. Yeah.

[strangecowplant]

please help me pay my kitties emergency vet bill!

ive never done this before but one of my cats just had to get an extremely sudden emergency procedure and i don't know what to do, my vet and i have reached out to a couple incredible programs here to help with the bill but one is less than half and the other hasn't replied back yet, i've already declined the blood work (CA$356) to lower the bill at the risk of possible underlying liver and kidney issues not being found but its still a monumental amount for us right now. i just feel so helpless

we had enough to pay the minimum deposit to get the procedure started in time thankfully, but we were already scraping by as it is and now we're in desperate need of funds to eat/pay rent/pay off any remainder of the bill. i am disabled without aid and have been unable to work/haven't worked since 2015 but am on track to hopefully start working pt this fall. i live with my mom who has 3-4 jobs including one seasonal job which needless to say is stressful and wearing her down. we unfortunately are stuck in the most expensive place to live in canada with the inability to save up to flee so the cycle is never ending.

this is Teddy, my typically very silly vocal happy boy who's not quite 2 yet, my comfort king, my little muffin who acts like a weighted blanket for me at night and eases my anxiety, his favourite toy is his pink unicorn poof, he loves car rides and he can shake paw!

he got a sudden urinary blockage last night with no straight answer as to why and progressively got worse as the night went on, i didnt sleep at all, i was panicking and bawling, naturally, and raced to the vet to get in as soon as the door opened. i assumed it was a uti which wouldn't have been as costly, but it turned out to be much more severe and life threatening. i never expected my usually extremely healthy boy to suddenly be at risk of that and im still trying to just process whats been happening

he needed to be sedated and given a catheter and some medication, the total bill came to CA$985.62, of which we were barely able to pay 500 of, and one program was able to donate 300 leaving a total of CA$185.62 for the bill. this, of course, leaves us scrambling for food and rent as well

i know there are a lot of fundraisers out there needing donations right now, and i really hate letting myself be so open and raw like this but even a dollar would help tremendously and i would be forever grateful for any help whatsoever, even a rb to signal boost is greatly appreciated <3

TLDR; my cat had a sudden life threatening issue and now we can't pay the full vet bill or pay for food/rent

Paypal

[gazeofseer]

.ೃ࿐ 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 .ೃ࿐

'Life happens once in a momentum in the arms of love, where one expands, envelopes and endears the feel and essence of another life..more than an imagination could smolder less than a strike of a memory it is something so deep it soft yet wavering, painfully so healing'

╔═══════☆♡☆═══════╗

.ೃ࿐ 𝑷𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 .ೃ࿐

╚═══════☆♡☆═══════╝

Image.1

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

'Delight, Tender, Soft, Endearing, & Alluring'

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

There is an alluring energy which touches you before it reaches to your heart it is your heart, your sensitive yet stern energy, you feel things first and then think about it later but still it works the best for you I can see you tear up in agony with a smile you know this is life and it is not for the weak ones, it takes efforts of each day to feel it and make it happen everyday.💙🌊

Channeled message from your soulmate/lover

'You felt me last night? I tried to feel you through a hug I gave to myself to know that you may need it to..' 💖🌸

'Energy Is your Intimacy, you like being touched energetically, on a level of magnetic state of vibration and it becomes easy for you to feel the person's life that you love..'

'Words there is something special about exchange of few and suddenly finding or listening to words that feel profound you can try languages to learn..'

'Verg few of you reading this especially if you have water dominant you can have ruffled anxiety which can be calmed with comfort it acts more like a therapy to you by being in a blanket and napping around..'

I see you are not too much into sensual stuff, but you did love kissing I see you always fantasize about having a kiss that feels delightful and stays longer in your heart.

Guidance : Nourish your energy as much as you cherish it sit alone and let yourself clean up too. Through yoga, meditation or journaling..!!

Image.2

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

Safe, Space, Ease, Wind, Natural, Winter

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

You know when you know, you have a great intellect of read when you are in a room full of people, knowing who intends for what be it a touch or a say, but this leaves you in a long hour of overthinking which came be quite exhausting, even in pain you turn numb and isolate yourself, Not independent vibes but too much of expectations vibes you plan and manifest, manifesting on a intend and hitting with no aim at the end makes you feel anxious..no end makes you anxious being stuck and stuff.

Channeled message from your spouse ;

'Dear, Calm down I am whispering peace of assurance by your side, my love won't fall off nor do your life will take it down slow, it is not about race, or people's gaze it is about you love and can't see you worry in vain..' ☘️✨

Touch, And that safe touch you crave from your mother's cuddle and your sister's warmth, the ones you get from touching a baby's cheek you are ethereal and you seek that intimacy in touches of world.

Humor is a very part of your Intimacy not dark ones but ones that just makes you surprised and comes unexpectedly.

Objects, Antiques, have a special intimacy where you feel and touch and feel as if it is yours only yours and it makes you feel content.

Unlike comfort, something stable makes you feel intimately enveloping you are like that bird who loves to feel the ounce of touch of grounds one and then.

Guidance : Do not stop thinking nor do pause, just stop making it the only thing to exist, your thoughts are just impressions that can't leave but needs to be accepted and let it go like wise.

Image.3

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

Sensual, Involvement, Nourishing, Efforts

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

You have major trust issues people turned their back on you in the midway without giving you any clarity or keeping you hung in ignorance and left, they used you for their own benefit and when they had no use of your anymore they left you before you could. This left a deep mark on you get a wisdom that nobody is responsible for the way you feel. People will be happy or sad they don't care what you feel so you have to care the way you feel.

Channeled message from lover/family ;

'I know people have left a hole in you that I can't fill in, but can't I even try once to touch and see if that is empty or just covered in the shade of memories..?'

Sorry but a little pain makes you feel then happiness could, you sense the sorrow first due to which some mental pain affects you physically but you find the hauntingly intense and needful but great that you heal from it like you turn it into your power.

Reality & truth is your best radar to operate from as it keeps you awake and far from any kinds of betrayals or deprivation.

Logical and strategic execution or shall I say out loud that a little seek of perfection feels so good to you. But good control.

You enjoy sensual retreat, be it getting a massage, spa or you seek long hours of release where you get involved in the moment of it's raw nature be it sex or any other retreat.

Guidance : Protection is good as long as perseverance is, anything above is a mere instinct pessimism.

Image.4

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

Caressing, Kisses, Whispers, Tears, Hand locks.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

The masculine and feminine energy is at play, where you be either of it when needed people get confused a lot, about you being different from what they thought you to be. There is a sense of gloom to you but you have one feet at the ground held at hindrance you are a lazy being physically but your mind has many worlds that you have created since childhood, be it one with your person, the one of your career, the one with your family, and much more..oof.

Channeled message from dream person ;

'I do exist in your dream, but what makes you stand apart from your reality is the nightmares I carry as a part of me..'

Your thinking and mind is your Intimacy where you delve into the depths of possibilities in your head and it gives you more fresh perspective on life too.

You love holding hands, something about fingers especially of the back of your hands you may even tattoo on it with pen/henna.

You love quick and witty kisses that of like a one from a sudden space but more tempted and you saw it coming.

Flirting is a part of your Intimacy too because you can't do it with anyone so easily unless they are really close..quite close.

Guidance : It's okay to dream, but doesn't that hurt at times ? It's okay we shall embrace our limit to exist being a human after all.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

DM FOR BOOKING PAID READINGS

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

[gguk-n]

Heart On The Grid (Min Yoongi x Sebastian Vettel's God Daughter!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Y/N was Sebastian Vettel's God Daughter. It came with a lot of benefits; like she practically grew up in racing. She was karting by the time she was 3 and winning races by the time she was 5. She wanted to be like Beb, she could't pronounce his name properly yet but Sebastian was and is her biggest inspirations. That's how she ended up on the paddock. All the drivers would fret and coo over her. She had the entire grid wrapped around her finger. The drivers would be at her beck and call; if Y/N was hot and uncomfortable they had ice and cold juices and ice-cream ready for her, if Y/N was cold, they would either remove their own sweaters or have an extra pair for her ready. She wasn't only her dad's princess but the entire Formula One's driver line ups.

She would interrupt most drivers during their media interviews who would just smile at her, lift her up and continue on with their interview as if it was the most natural thing. You would find a lot of old interviews of drivers with baby Y/N in their arms but as soon as she would spot her Beb, she would scream for him to come over and take her. Most drivers didn't let her off with a bit of a fight with Sebastian since they wanted to hold her. She was smart, she would talk to them like her parents talked to her; "Nando, I'm going with Beb now. I'll be okay. You do questions and then we can tuddle" she would explain slowly climbing into Sebastian arms who would be smirking at Fernando who was glaring at him.

Whenever she would be gone for school or her karting races, the paddock felt empty. There weren't random stickers stuck to their cars or extra ice-creams lying around. Even the interviewers would miss her since she would give an interview with Sebastian during media day. But most of all, Sebastian would miss his tiny shadow.

Sebastian would try to be there for her karting races as much as he could and she would always talk about Sebastian when she would be interviewed on who was her favourite driver. "So, Y/N, can you tell us who your favourite driver is?" the child interviewer asked. "It's Mark Webber, don't tell Sebastian though" she would tease while looking at him. Sebastian never took it too seriously, what pained him was she was growing up and had out grown her Beb. She wouldn't be as overtly affectionate as she was.

As she grew older, her visits to the paddock decreased with school and her interest shifting from racing to academics and then she started university. It was in University when she was pursuing her masters when she met Yoongi on her exchange programme in Seoul, South Korea. She had gone there to earn a new experience and returned with the sweetest boyfriend. Back then BTS had just started finding their footing in the industry and breaking out even in the west. With all the dating issue in K-Pop and with both their busy schedules, they kept their relationship on the down low. Sebastian was just happy his god-daughter hadn't bought some random man home.

Until one fateful day, Y/N had invited everyone to her house. Her reasoning; she wanted them to meet someone special. Both her father and Sebastian were dreading the day. Y/N cheerfully greeted her parents and Sebastian and his wife, Hannah. Her mother and Hannah were thrilled to hear that she was dating someone; and said someone was currently in the kitchen preparing the dinner. "He cooks?" her mother whispered looking at the man in the kitchen's back. "yes" she smiled looking at Yoongi lovingly. "You guys should sit down" she commented pointing at the sofa. Yoongi came out of the kitchen and greeted everyone. Sebastian and her dad were eyeing the poor boy like he had committed arson. "Hello sir. It's nice to meet you" he greeted her father. "I'm a huge fan, nice to meet you sir" Yoongi said shaking Sebastian's hand who had a vice grip on his but Yoongi just smiled and stood there.

The dinner began with out a hitch until they started interrogating Yoongi and the moment he said he lived in Seoul, you could hear the wheels in their head rotating; "Our Y/N isn't moving to Seoul. It's too far away. You can't have her, sorry, but she's ours." the two men screamed. "I'm no ones" Y/N said exasperated. "She's an adult darling, she knows what she's doing" her mother interjected. "But...but" her father tried to reason while Sebastian was shut up by his wife with a glare from across the table.

They finished the dinner without anymore interruptions. "Sir" Yoongi began looking at her father, Y/N was busy catching up with Hannah to notice, "I promise to take good care of her. She is the most important thing to me in my life. I promise to always make her happy and never let her cry. I really love your daughter. Will you let me marry her?" he asked. Both of the men sighed, they looked at each other before her father started speaking; "We can't tell her what to do, but if you really mean everything you said, then we will support her. But if you do anything to hurt her" "I will run you over with my car" Sebastian cut him off. Yoongi smiled, "Never, wouldn't even dream of it" he said.

Once everyone had filed out, at the door her father hugged her and whispered in her ear, "He's okay I guess." he lamented. "I wished you dated someone I knew so I could keep an eye on him but he's okay too I guess" Sebastian said begrudgingly as he hugged her good-bye.

Y/N had gone to South Korea to see Yoongi off for his military enlistment. It was the night before he was supposed to start and the pair were laying in each others embrace as Y/N peppered kissed once in a while across his face. "I love you" she stated. "I love you too" he replied suddenly sitting up. "Y/N, you make me the happiest I've ever been. I didn't think someone else could make me feel this way other than music. Will you do me the honour and marry me?" he asked now on his knee. She was in tears and could only nod. Yoongi slipped the beautiful ring on her finger and pecked her lips. "I love you. Can't wait to spend forever with you" he stated in her embrace. "me neither" she hummed as they stayed like that for a little longer since when the sun rose Yoongi would be gone, fulfilling his duty.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 20/10/2024 Carlos Sainz - Toys

Plot: Carlos finds your side draw of toys when your out with the girls and he can’t wait to try them out with you.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, use of dildo, use of vibrator, use of toys, sex with toys, 18+ Minors DNI

Carlos and you had a very active sex life but it was pretty mundane. You guys stuck to the basics, going in the order of making out, to him fingering you, to you giving him a hand job or blow job and then sex, of course in missionary because that’s all you’d ever tried.

And you knew it wasn’t an issue with Carlos because he always satisfied you in every aspect of your relationship.

However there were times when you didn’t go to a race with him and you’d have your little selfcare days. You’d go to the local spa, you’d have a massive shower where you’d shave and do all of your facial cleansing and body scrubbing to the point you felt like a squeaky clean scrubbing brush.

And then came the other aspect of your self care. And that all resided in your locked side draw in the bedside cabinet. You and Carlos had one each, even though this was your apartment, he stayed here so often between races that it just made sense he had his own space for stuff.

But all the time you were in the relationship the draw remained locked and you never showed Carlos what you did when it was just you.

You had loads of toys, ranging from purple dildos to bunny shaped vibrators, to vibrators you could store in your panties and control through a mobile app, you had as much as you could physically force into that draw.

Your use them whenever Carlos wasn’t around, it was like your smutty little secret that you were okay with just keeping to yourself as you found it kind of embarrassing, this side of you and you never wanted Carlos to think he was doing enough because he was.

But then in a rush, you’d left the draw unlocked after you’d spent a morning with your rose toy that acted like a tongue and felt like it was eating you out. It was something that was able to work motorised and faster than a natural tongue.

And Carlos had got home before you. You’d asked him to hang up a picture for you as he was sort of the handy man in the house now that he was there more often than not. He went looking for a screwdriver and some nails to see if he could get it up. And of course he went looking in your bedside cabinet when he couldn’t find it in the kitchen or the utility room.

When he opened the draw he couldn’t say he wasn’t shocked. It was so out of the ordinary for you, but then again he couldn’t really tell.

He placed them all on the bed in an order of what shocked him the most to what looked relatively normal for you.

When you got home, you chucked your bag on the entrance way floor kicking of your heels and stepping into the open plan apartment.

“Carlos?” You shout into the house expecting him to be here. You walk a little further in until you hear a shuffling noise upstairs.

“Baby is that you?” You ask, pulling your hair down and placing the clip on the counter.

“I’m in the upstairs bedroom” Carlos Spanish accent sounds throughout the house and you rush upstairs excited to see him after so long.

As you enter the bedroom, you halt the minute you see him sat on the bed dildo in hand. Your eyes go from the draw to the collection now on the bed and up to Carlos who has a straight look on his face.

“I-“ you start but don’t even know what to say here.

“Can explain? Mmmm I’m sure you can, you dirty dirty girl. Why didn’t you show me any of this” he asks looking at you intrigued.

“Well, it was just sort of for me” you explain getting a little nervous seeing all of your stuff out on the bed.

“Think we can maybe use it together?” He asks, and in his mind he was hoping and begging you’d say yes. He wanted to see you unravel so badly, and he wanted to see how you reacted to all these different toys.

“I” you start but he comes up to you, pulling you closer to him, kissing your lips and holding you by the hips.

“Please baby, needa see you” he says in that accent that you knew you couldn’t say no too. All you do is nod and he’s picking you up, and placing you gently on the bed.

“What do i use first?” He grins looking at the array of toys in the bed. He picks up a dildo and your praying he doesn’t use that first.

He then moves to a standard bullet vibrator. He holds it out inspecting it before helping you sit back, placing the edge of it to the jeans you were wearing causing a little whimper at the slight pressure.

“Why has my naughty naughty cabron got all of these little toys and not sharing them with me huh?” He says and you lurch forward as he pushes it more against your clothed core.

He starts to pull your jeans down your legs until they are fully off, your panties showing a wet spot of your arousal. He stuff the vibrator into your panties holding it against your clit, not pulling away even when your hands grab at his wrists.

He loved playing with the different speeds and vibrations on it, testing them to see which one got the best reaction form you. It was like his very own treat, being able to find out these new things about you and what you enjoyed.

He shifts through the objects until he finds your silicone dildo, a nice flexible purple one that you used often and was a size that you really enjoyed. It was actually very similar to what you knew Carlos size was.

“Mmmmm I think I’ll get you one of these but moulded to my dick so you can have me wherever and whenever I’m not here to give my girl what she needs. Because this is what all of this is about right? It’s for when I’m not here?” He grins looking at the more stuff on the bed and all you can do is nod as he ups the setting once again on the vibrator it being close to the highest straight setting.

“Fuck Carlos” you moan clenching your legs together as those vibrations hit. He keeps is there making you moan out in a pornographic sort of way. He takes this moment to slide the dildo in. Thrusting it in and out how he would if it was him and his hips driving in and out of you.

“Oh, fuck fuck baby” you cry out looking over him holding one of his hands the one that’s still and holding the vibrator on your clit.

I’m seconds you’re squirting which is something you haven’t done before. By yourself or with Carlos present but who knew when you combine your two sexual worlds you’d have one for he most transcendent nights ever.

“Oh fuck, did you just squirt mi amor?” He asks with a happy grin, excited with this new found outcome of pleasure he can entice from you.

“Carlos” you moan. He chucks the used dildo to the side and pulls his own sweatpants down, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach before he takes your own panties off chucking them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

He positions himself above you before pushing himself in and leaning into you when he feels your wet walls clamp down around him.

“Oh fuck you’re so beautiful. Oh my god” he moans out as he can feel the vibrator that’s moving against your clit still as he pumps in and out of you. The sensation of the vibrations was like nothing he’d ever felt before and he was like a wild man. His hips snapping in and out of you.

His free hand was holding him up but he wanted nothing more than too grab your tits and play with them because he loved nothing more than you’re tits they were actually probably his favourite thing about you.

“Oh that’s it baby, hold this for me” he says grabbing your hand and making you hold the vibrator in between the two of you. His hands make a grab for your tits and he squeezes a groan coming from him as he feels you clench around him.

“Baby” you moan out before you release that tension for the second time that night.

He cums in you feeling the tightness of you build in him and the vibrator pressed onto a high yet setting.

“Fuck baby, we’re using them all the time” he groans flopping next to you on the bed careful to miss all the toys.

“Sorry I kept it from you. I don’t like to hide things from you but … I was embarrassed” you say blushing.

“Never be embarrassed of that”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[minkyungseokie]

Bali Meet-Cute | Logan Sargeant

synopsis; when vacationing in Bali, y/n accidentally meets a cute American F1 driver after he photobombs her picture

warnings; none

note; not requested

note2; I saw someone say they wanted this, I wanted this, everyone wanted this. I kind of rushed this, but I thought it was still cute

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Logan Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

Y/n hopped out of the bed of the room in the resort she had rented for the trip. She had finally saved up enough money to go to Bali and wanted to make it worth all of the time she had spent at her terrible 9 to 5-job. She'd be staying for a month and so far, for the two days she’d been there, she's been doing nothing but sleeping. After doing so much work for more than a year, she was too tired to actually go out and do anything for the first two days.

Y/n didn't know much of what there was to do in Bali, but she knew that by the end of the day, she wanted to visit the Leke Leke waterfall. She had heard from a friend of hers who had visited Bali that the Leke Leke waterfall was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and that Y/n absolutely had to visit if she ever went herself. And now she was here, she didn't know what to do.

"Shit, I woke up so late." Y/n groaned, picking up her phone and grimacing at how late she had slept in. Even if she had known what she was going to do, she wouldn't be able to do much of it because she had woken up so late in the day. It was around lunch time or a bit after what was considered lunch time. "I guess I should just go to the waterfall." Y/n mumbled, grabbing a tot bag out of her suitcase and packing up some bug spray, sunscreen, her camera, and a towel. Before grabbing her bathing suit, putting it on, and putting on shorts and a t-shirt on over the bathing suit.

Y/n quickly got into the rented car and drove off with guiding off her GPS because she had the same sense of direction as a blind dog.

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“You have arrived at your destination on the right.” The GPS said. Y/n parked and got out of the car, taking a deep breath and smiling as she felt some of the tension she was still carrying from the long plane ride to Bali, exit her body, leaving only the feelings of bliss and tranquility. “This is going to be a fun day.” Y/n muttered excitedly as she pulled her camera out of her bag and pointed it towards the waterfall and its lush forest.

Click!

Y/n didn’t see or realize there was another person there, too transfixed on the ethereal beauty of nature that was in front of her. It was no wonder Leke Leke was a huge tourist attraction, it made the most perfect candidate for taking photos and it was perfect to put on Instagram. Y/n looked at her photos with a smile that began to fade.

Now who the fuck was that guy?

Logan sighed. This is really what he needed after such a shit weekend. He knew that it was a decision that was made with the team's best interest in mind, but it didn't do anything but shatter his confidence that he had worked so hard during the winter break to build up. Logan was well aware that his rookie season was absolute shit, which is why he worked so hard during the break. He wanted to prove to himself, the team, his fans, and his haters that he could do it. That he could be better than what he did during his rookie season, but the start of this season proved to be nothing but stress and a mess. 

They both had to stop during their first race due to car problems, the next two races had no issues that Logan could think of, and then Alex wrecks his chassis, so Logan is forced to give up his own. The Florida resident shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. He came here to relax, not to stress himself out more. He needed to stop thinking about what could've been if James actually trusted him enough to drive. He knew that they most likely wouldn't be getting points, but at least Logan would have more experience under his belt.

Didn't James say he didn't even really care about 2024 and 2025? Didn't he say he was focused on the new changes coming 2026 or something? SO why did the man feel the need to bench him if he didn't care so much. "That's enough, Logan." The blonde muttered, lightly slapping his cheeks, "You're here for a break. Not to destroy yourself anymore than you already have." He huffed and looked up at the waterfall.

Oh, what he would give to be like the Leke Leke waterfall. Untouched, unjudged, and unburdened by anyone or anything. Living in perfect harmony with the plants and animals that it shares a habitat with. He wishes it could be like this in F1. There was no drama, everyone got along, and the sport was made fun again like it was when he watched it on television when he was younger. But, alas, humans are flawed creatures that seem to bring destruction and ruin wherever they go. 

It was a high-intensity sport, yes, but there was so much unnecessary drama and hatred that came with the new grid and the new wave of fans. Why couldn't friendly rivalries be made where the drivers obviously aren't friends, but the fans don't fight like they hate each other(Lewis and Max fans. They seem to go to war for no reason when the drivers are at best civil with each other).

Logan shook his head again as he caught himself thinking about his job again, but this time about the hate he gets being an American in a European sport. "Now is not the time to think about this. I'll go get something to eat and come back later." Logan muttered, turning around and walking back up the little pathway that was worm by so many people trampling down the small hill to play in the pool.

He didn't realize another person was there until he heard a 'tsk' followed by, "Who the fuck is this guy? He ruined my photo."

Logan looked up and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes met the gorgeous (e/c) of a woman so beautiful, he swears she could've been a deity, "H-hey, did I, uh, did I ruin your photo?" Logan asked awkwardly as the sharp eyes of the woman before him practically bore into his soul and stripped away his layers one-by-one. 

"You did, but it's alright."

God, even her voice was heavenly. It felt like listening to a chill lofi beat with rain sound in the background. Beautiful and calming. It made him want to listen to it more as it was such a drastic change from the voices he hears everyday.

And by that, he meant the people who surround him. Not that he hears voices.

"Um, I'm sorry. If you would like, I can take a couple pictures for you." Logan offered hesitantly while the woman continued studying him, "There's something bothering you, isn't there? You look stressed." The woman observed, "Do I?" Logan awkwardly laughed as he straightened his clothing. "You do. What's your name? I'm Y/n." The girl introduced, bending down to offer him her hand.

Logan stared at her with wide eyes, unsure what to do. It seemed like she had no idea who he was and he was glad for that. It shouldn't have surprised him the way it did either. Despite having a huge fan base, Formula One isn't as well known as it should be. It really wasn't until DTS that any Americans knew what it was and they started gaining more traction as some people started watching because of how handsome all of the drivers were and stayed because they fell in love with the sport(I know I did) and there was nothing wrong with that.

Logan was brought back to reality by the woman shaking her hand in place as if telling im that she was waiting, "Are you going to shake my hand or are you going to continue staring at me with those big beautiful eyes of yours?" She asked

Y/n felt like diving off a cliff. She didn't know where she mustered up the courage to say such a thing and now she was embarrassed by the way the man was staring at her, "Shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean it. I mean, I didn't mean it, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Your eyes are very beautiful, just like your face. I didn't mean-- I'm just going to stop talking now." Y/n rambled, face heating up as she felt herself digging a bigger and bigger hole.

Y/n looked down in embarrassment, too scared to look up and see the possible look of disgust that the man would wear, but she was pleasantly surprised to hear the cutest laugh she had ever heard from a guy and a hand slide into her own gripping it enough to reassure her, but not squeezing it.

"Thank you so much. If it makes anything better, I think you're absolutely breathtaking as well." The man said. Y/n looked up with wide eyes.

Breathtaking. He thought she was breathtaking

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she looked into his eyes. Y/n smiled bashfully and pulled him so he was standing next to her, "Come get some lunch with me. My treat." She offered. "Oh, no thank you. I couldn't--" "You're not. I'm offering, pretty boy." Y/n intterupted, "Logan." The man said, "What?" Y/n asked, "My name. Is Logan." The man, Logan reiterated.

"Well, it's absolutely lovely to meet you, Logan. Did you drive to get here?" Y/n questioned, leading him out of the forest by his hand, "I, uh, no. I walked here, um." Logan stuttered, easily keeping up with her strides. "Well, you can ride back with me. I know this is adrupt and weird for a first meeting, but I want to get to know you better." Y/n said, looking back at him with a smile that had his heart fluttering, "You do?" Logan asked.

"Of course, I do."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The duo found themselves sitting acros from each other in a resturant called Cafe Tahu after a short and silent car ride, "So, Logan, what's on your mind? What's got you looking so down while in one of the most beautiful nature spots in the world?" Y/n asked, tilting her head and resting it on her intertwined fingers.

Logan didn't want to burden her with his problems, but the way she was looking at him made him want to talk to her, “My job is to… drive cars and last weekend, my teammate crashed his car, putting it out of commission for the weekend. Um, usually if you crash, you're out, but…” Logan trailed off, clenching his fist.

Y/n slid her hand across the table and grabbed his clenched one until Logan had untensed his hand enough for her to intertwine their fingers, “Judging by your reaction, that’s not what happened?” Y/n asked. Logan shook his head, “No. It's not. They decided to give my teammate MY car. It's like they were rewarding him for his fuck up, but I'm not upset with him.” Logan let out.

“Well, I'm assuming it wasn’t his decision. You know what? I'm proud of you.” Y/n said, Logan looked at her in confusion, “For what?” He questioned. “For not losing your cool. For not blaming your teammate for the decision. For being so mature about it even though you could have gone ape shit. I have to say that I respect that.” Y/n said, removing her hand from his and instead holding his arm while using her other hand to prop her head up.

Logan looked deep into her eyes and nodded, “Do you want to…I don't know, have dinner with me tonight?” Logan asked breathily. Y/n tittered, “I don’t think first meetings are supposed to move this quickly, but at the same time, I've never had so much chemistry with someone I just met.” Y/n hummed, playing with Logan’s watch. “Yeah,” Logan muttered, distracted by her nimble fingers toying with his watch.

“Sure. Why not? Let's get dinner together.”

“Great. Can I have your number?” Logan asked, beaming while holding out his phone for her to take. She put in her number and handed it back, “After we finish our drinks, what do you say we go back to Leke Leke and take some better photos?” Y/n inquired.

“I’d like that.”

[55sturn]

✮ I WAS BLIND TO SEE

pairing: chris sturniolo × female!reader

synopsis: in which y/n spent years begging chris to let her into his heart, but he was unrelenting, so eventually she gave up. but after years of her pining helplessly, chris realizes that he grew to love her back and races against the clock to get her back.

warnings: swearing, lowkey toxic!chris, angst for like majority of the fic, oblivious!reader, oblivious!chris, mentions of alcohol, justin’s lowkey a dick, chris is a literal fucking dumbass, i love the whole “idiots in love” trope.

THIRD PERSON POV

it was no shocker to find out how deep y/n's love for chris ran, after all she had been in love with him since they were sophmores in high school. she loved every single thing there was to love about him, and the less lovable things, she understood where they stemmed from.

she had a very deep connection with him, they had been the closet out of him, his brothers, and her. he could turn to her for anything, and vice versa. however, there was one issue.

chris didn't reciprocate the love she felt. he expressed numerous times to anyone who asked, that she was his best friend, nothing more. he saw her as the female extension of him and his brothers.

the only person he couldn't tell that to though, was her. so instead of letting her down easy, he ignored it. and that caused more problems than he saw coming. because of his naturally flirty nature, it filled the girl with false hope, it led her to believe that maybe her feelings were returned.

no one was able prepare for the inevitable fallout that occurred when chris' feelings, or lack thereof, came to light.

FLASHBACK

chris was sitting at his desk when nick knocked on his door, he welcomed him into his room with a barely discernible "come in."

"chris we gotta talk." nick muttered, standing in the doorway with his arms folded and a frustrated look on his face.

"what's up?" chris sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned in his gaming chair to face the older triplet.

"you need to tell y/n about the way you feel, well the way you don't feel."

"why? it's not like i'm hurting her." chris scoffed, not really wanting to break his best friend's heart.

"chris, she literally just spent an hour talking to me on facetime about how she wants to confess her feelings to you directly because instead of being honest, you're playing into her feelings! i can't keep giving her advice and getting her hopes up knowing that you are just going to crush her."

"whatever nick, i'll talk to her later."

and so, when y/n came by later that day, she gathered the nerve to tell chris with a shaky breath and unsteady hands.

"chris can we talk?"

"yeah what's up?" chris hummed, knowing very well where this was going, and despite the fact that he was just about to break her heart, he felt some sort of twisted pride stir in his chest. he liked knowing that someone so close to him was pining for him, it made him feel powerful, and he hated that it made him feel that way. it truly disgusted him.

"i know this probably isn't a secret by any means but i've got feelings for you. like 'i'm in love with you' feelings and i don't know if i've been reading into things too much or if i've read into them correctly but it seems like you return them, or at least act like you do and if that's the case, i'm glad i told you. and if i've read them completely wrong, i'm about to feel like the biggest fool possible." y/n rambled, breathing out a nervous laugh as chris' eyes bore into hers.

"listen y/n, you're a great girl. any guy would be lucky to be loved by you the way you love me but i'm sorry, i don't see you that way. i know i've fed into your feelings and your flirting, and it makes me feel like such a jackass but i didn't know how to tell you and i really didn't want to break your heart. you're my best friend and i would give anything to return your feelings but i don't and it wouldn't be fair for me to pretend i do." chris whispered, his heart tearing in two as he watched the hurt and horror flash in her eyes as she realized that she had read everything wrong. his arms slowly slid around her shoulders, pulling in her into him, or at least in attempt to.

"no. you don't get to hug me after you just admitted that you played with my feelings. you literally just contradicted yourself, the fuck do you mean 'it wouldn't be fair to pretend to return your feelings." that's exactly what you did! god this was a mistake." she spat, turning on her heels and making her way up the stairs leading from chris' room. she grabbed her jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs and left without so much as a word.

and that was the last that chris had heard from her until they ended up back in boston at the same time.

FLASHBACK OVER

y/n sighed as she made her up the sturniolos' driveway. her family had agreed to a huge family dinner with the triplets' family and she was dreading having to see chris. she was on perfectly fine terms with nick and matt, they had actually grown closer. y/n just refused to be an active presence and figure in chris' life. whenever she wanted to hang out, it’d be away from their house. away from chris.

knocking on the door, a small smile pulled at her lips. she missed mary-lou and jimmy, she hadn't had much time to see them since going back home, she had just been busy with other things, and the fact that she was slightly avoiding them because she had a feeling chris or one of his brothers told them about what had happened.

"y/n! my sweet girl i've missed you." mary-lou cooed as she opened the door, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"i've missed you too, i'm sorry i haven't come by yet, i've been busy." the girl pouted slightly, feelings guilty for staying away for as long as she had.

"busy ignoring a certain boy of mine?" the older woman teased gently, being fully aware of what had gone down and her heart hurt for the young girl. she knew what chris felt, she could see in his eyes when he spoke about his former best friend, a mother always knows. she also knows that chris just hasn't been made aware of the fact that he feels the same as y/n once did.

as mary-lou led y/n up the stairs and into the dining room where the sturniolos' and y/n's parents sat, y/n felt her chest grow tight as all eyes, including chris' fell on her.

"hey everyone, sorry i'm late." she laughed, returning the hug that jimmy pulled her into as he stood up.

"don't worry about it, we're just glad you showed up." jim smiled down at her as she took her place between justin and her mother, unfortunately across from chris.

chris' forced his gaze to his lap as he fiddled with his fingers, ever since the night he turned her down, a strange feeling had been stirring and beating relentlessly in the pit of his stomach, he almost felt like he had made a mistake rejecting her.

as the dinner went on, chris was determined to meet her gaze but she was just as determined to not look at him, in fear that she would crumple into a sobbing wreck. she tried to move on but it was hard when he had already held her heart for so long. she feared that she would never love someone the way she loved and still deep down, loves him.

after the dinner had finished, the adults gathered in the living room, talking about shit their kids didn't care about or had heard a million times already, so the rest of them moved to the deck, all claiming a chair as their own while justin grabbed a beer for all of them.

"so mousey, whatcha been up to, like really? seeing anybody?" justin hums, watching the twenty year old girl that he considered his baby sister shift awkwardly in her chair.

"quit calling me that." y/n groans, rolling her eyes at the nickname that justin had given her back when she was in elementary school, she was so quiet compared to his brothers that he referred to her as a mouse which led to him branding her "mousey."

"and before you ask again, i've seen a couple guys here and there but nothing really stuck.” she sighs, taking a sip of her beer as justin lods, kissing his teeth with a teasing smirk on his face.

“what about you chris?”

“justin don’t.” chris warns, glaring at his older brother as he sees through justin’s plan. justin is fully convinced that chris is in love with y/n, someone just has to spell it out for him. matt and nick both look at each other with wide eyes as they clue into what justin is trying to do.

y/n scoffs, sliding her beer across the table with a roll of her eyes before she stands up,

“you’re a dick.”

“y/n wait.” chris calls out, jogging after as she makes her away around the house to her car, shaking her head as she walks away.

“what do you want chris?” she sighs, turning to face him and look at him, really look at him for the first time that night.

“i’m sorry about justin, he’s convinced that i’m running from my feelings or some shit and he’s trying to make me see that.”

“that’s nice chris. you know, i came here tonight thinking that it’’d be easy to see you after how many months but no, it’s been just as hard as the night you broke my heart. it’s hard because i miss you, so fucking much but i can’t get over you. and i can’t get over you hurting me, whether you meant to or not.”

“i miss you too, y/n. come back please.” chris whispers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he stares at the girl he called his best friend.

“no. i don’t think you do. you miss the me that would follow you around like a lost puppy and feed your ego with all the attention i gave you. you miss the love i gave you because you didn’t have to search anywhere else for it. i was some sort of fall back for you. and if i stuck around after you broke my heart to hear you say that you loved me, knowing it wasn’t the same way that i love you, it would’ve killed me chris.”

“i’m sorry, i really am. i just miss my best friend.”

“i stopped being your best friend long before i confessed my feelings to you.” she whispers, the raw emotion she felt as she recounted how things changed evident in her voice, lea chris confused by what she meant.

“what?”

“you stopped seeing me as your best friend quite a while ago. you started seeing me as this your could always count on to boost your ego, to fill your head with this idea that you were a god, that you were the center of my universe. you stopped treating me like your best friend and started treating me like i was a fucking groupie, chris. you stopped remembering important things i told you about myself, you got me a copy of a book that i couldn’t stand, that you knew i couldn’t stand because when i first told you about, you laughed at how insane i sounded. and you said it was for my birthday, but my birthday was three weeks before that. you started only paying attention to things i said that made you feel good, and i thought that if i’d dismiss it and pretend that it wasn’t happening, that it’d go away. i figured you were just sorting out your feelings. but no, you were playing me.”

“that’s not tr-“

“yes it is. i excused it by convincing myself you were busy. that you were stressed. but in reality, you stopped giving a fuck about me and only gave a fuck about the attention i paid you, and now that it’s gone, you feel lost and helpless. so no, you don’t miss me.” she replies, her voice slowly becoming void of all emotion, as if she had accepted what had happened and moved to face her car, before turning back to him.

“for what it’s worth, i miss my best friend too, but when i look at you now, i don’t see him. i see a person who looks like him, but is completely different. and justin is right, you’re running from your feelings but i don’t think they’re feelings for me. i love you, always have, always will. i wish i could say that you love me too, but i don’t think you do.”

chris watches her car back out of the driveway and speed down the street with his heart in his hands, forced to grapple with just how badly he hurt her.

months had passed and chris was still completely shut out of y/n’s life, and it left a bitter and extremely hard pill for chris to swallow. he knew he fucked up and he knew asking her for forgiveness was an insane ask but he missed her.

and not the attention she gave him. he missed her. her warmth, the fuzzy feeling in his chest that she gave him when he’d crack a joke and look around to see if she found it funny. he missed the way he could non-verbally communicate with her the way he can with his brothers. all he’d have to do is send her a look and she’d know what he was thinking. he missed her hugs and the way she could comfort him in a split second. he missed the person that knew him better than he knew himself, and he missed the girl that he knew better than anyone.

everyone around chris knew what was happening, they saw it in the way he’d sulk whenever nick mentioned some guy she was trying to date. or the way his eyes would soften at the mention of her and matt hanging out before his face would fall when matt says they’re going out to some random place to hang out. in the way chris’ eyes would brighten when he saw something that reminded him of her or her favourite movie showed up on the netflix previews.

everyone around chris knew that he wasn’t just homesick for his favourite person, he was lovesick too. they could see the gears turning in his head and heart, that he was slowly starting to openly show his love for her, the same love she felt for him. chris was guarded and haunted by girls that have hurt him, they knew he closed off his heart to anything but familial and platonic love, so when genuine, deep romantic feelings started blooming in his chest like the flowers in spring, he didn’t know what they were. he always thought it was platonic love for his best friend, but everyone could see it was more.

everyone but chris. until the day he saw his feelings for what they really were.

FLASHBACK

chris walked upstairs, halting halfway up to text his friend back as he half listened to nick and matt’s shared conversation, not really care until he hears a sentence that left a sour taste in his mouth.

“y/n wants to ask brendon to be her boyfriend. she thinks it could go well.”

“is she over chris?”

“not really but she wants to try and move on.”

chris rolled his eyes and stomped up the rest of the stairs, not understanding why there was such an angry feeling building in his chest like a fire rapidly consuming everything in its wake.

throughout the day, chris let his anger consume his every action, his every response, every single reaction he has to anything. it was pissing his brothers off because they had no clue why he was angry. until nick pieced it together.

“you heard our conversation about y/n didn’t you? that’s when you started acting a like a dick to everyone and everything.”

“whatever nick it doesn’t matter.”

“you’re fucking jealous, aren’t you?”

“who gives a fuck if i am?”

“why are you jealous if you don’t see her that way?” nick pressed, a smug grin on his face as he pushed the youngest triplet, itching to get the long awaited confession out of chris.

“i’m not jealous.”

“right because if you were, that would mean you actually feel the same way y/n does. which would also mean that literally everyone else in the world was right about you from the fucking get-go.” matt snickered, finding joy in teasing chris for being a complete and utter dumbass for so long.

“oh my god, you’re right. is that what you wanna hear? that i’ve been a complete jackass to her for no reason? that i do feel the same and that everyone is right? that i have no reason to feel the way i do at the thought of her being with another guy? cause if so, there you fucking go.” chris snapped, yelling and cursing out his brothers with misplaced anger.

matt just laughed as he quickly merged into the turning lane, taking chris to y/n’s apartment.

“you know what you need to do.”

FLASHBACK OVER

chris sighs as he raises his fist to the door, his entire body vibrating. his nerves were on fire, he had absolutely no clue how to go about what he was about to do. he didn’t even know if it was a good idea.

as he drops his fist back to his side, the door opens, travelling y/n standing on the other side, her hair tucked beneath her hoodie, the one that chris had gotten her gotten the prior year for christmas because the colour looked pretty on her. chris felt his breath get stuck in his throat and his heart rate quicken as he met her eyes.

“chris what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i know you think i don’t love you.” chris starts, pushing his way into her apartment as she watches him, confused etched along her features as her brows knit together.

“okay, and?”

“and i know you think i stopped paying attention to you. but you’re wrong. you are all i think about, every second of every fucking day, you are running through my mind on a loop. i only ever think about the way you love cheesy chick flicks but will never say it out loud because you don’t want to be made fun of or the way you hate when people dog-ear the pages in their books because it ruins the quality. i only ever think about how much you miss boston in the summer because it’s the perfect temperature, but you hate it in the winter because you hate snow. or how you stop to pet every animal you see just so they know what it’s like to feel a loving touch. or how you refuse to wear anything in your favourite colour because you’re scared of attaching bad memories to it and hating the colour because it’s been your favourite since you were seven. or how feel bad when you don’t give the squishmallows on your bed equal attention because you believe they can feel things. or the fact that your favourite movie is coraline because you relate her deeply but will never your mom that in fear of breaking her heart. or the fact you never once deserved to be treated the way you were by me because i couldn’t see my feelings for what they were.” chris rambles, taking a deep breath as he looks at her, her mouth open as she prepares to speak but chris cuts her off,

“i know that you won’t be able to believe me right away, but i want to prove to you that i love you. it took me a long time to realize it because i’m a fucking idiot. i always have been but this love has been here since the moment i met you, i just confused it for something platonic when it was and is so much more than that. so please hear me out and don’t ask that guy to be your boyfriend, ask me. i want to be the one to love you for the rest of your life. i know i’ve fucked up, i will spend forever and a day trying to make up for it. i know i’m late but please, just give me one more chance.”

“okay.” she whispers, her eyes watering as she finally gets to hear everything she’s ever wanted chris to say. chris smiles, looping his fingers in the edges of hoodie pocket as he tugs her forward, pressing his lips to her so feverishly that he’s sure his lips will bruise but he’s scared to waste another moment, that when he opens his eyes this will all just be some sick and twisted dream. but when he pulls away and opens his eyes, he’s met with the reality that she’s there, her hands cradling his face as she wipes away the tears he didn’t even know existed before pressing another kiss to his lips.

“i’ve always been right in front of you chris, i’m just glad you finally opened your eyes.”

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[charlie-lec-stories]

Nightmares // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Everyone deals with their own battle, but they are always easier faced together.

Warnings: Abusive parenting, homophobia, abandonment issues, sexism, grief and childhood trauma.

Author’s Note: This is about companionship, we all deal with our own pain and we all have a past that still haunts us. This is about facing those battles hand in hand with the people you love. I wrote this some time ago, listening to 'Return the favor' and 'Therapy', both by All Time Low, and 'The only exception' by Paramore. I highly recommend listen to those tracks. I hope you like the story. Rate: +16 (descriptions of violence)

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The cold wind from outside filtered through a small dent on Max's bedroom window and the contact it made with his uncovered skin made him shiver. He thought about all the other punishments he had endured before over his 16 years of life and he assured himself that it could have gotten worse. Spending the winter night on his bedroom floor, in underwear, was way better than when he had to spend a week sleeping in the back yard because he came in second on an important race. It was also better than when his father left him alone in that gas station, the fear so intense that he ended up crying on the bathroom floor, hiding from the strangers around. At least he was in his home, in his room and he had his stuffed lion to keep him company. He gripped it tightly, feeling a little stupid for keeping such a childish object when he was that old, but it was the only thing that brought him a little comfort. He thought about his mother, who gave him the lion, and wondered what his life would be like if he had stayed with his mom and sister instead of his father. Would he be happier? Would he be as good at racing as he was? Would his mother have accepted him for who he was? He had an answer for that one: Yes. His mother would have chosen to love him anyways, he was sure of that. He wished, with his whole heart, to close his eyes and wake up in a better place, where he was loved for who he was. So he closed his eyes and waited for his wish to come true.

Max woke up in a cold sweat, he could still feel his fingers and toes frozen, the floor against his bare legs. A decade had passed from that night, but he still had nightmares about it once in a while. His childhood always came back whenever he was stressed or with low batteries. It was like his brain tried to sabotage him, filling him with more pain than he already felt. He looked to his left and found Charles sound asleep, his arms under the pillow, bringing it closer to his face, a peaceful look adorning his features. He knew that Charles had his own battles, and that he dreamed of his own nightmares, but how he wished he had the kind of father Charles had. Hervé was a loving husband and parent and even though he left this Earth way too early, he left a wonderful mark on everyone who knew him. His children loved him, his wife Pascale loved him. What did his father do? He also left marks, his mom had an order of protection against him, his sister was terrified of him, and Max did everything he could to run away as far as possible so he didn't have to be near him. If he could, he would bring back Hervé and give up his father. With a sigh and feeling a little guilty for his thoughts, he finally got up. He had to look for his girl, who was definitely hiding somewhere instead of being in bed with them.

The sky was still pretty dark outside, the stars shining on Monaco's natural ceiling, the full moon big over the Mediterranean Sea. He found her sitting on the floor of the balcony, a cigarette between her lips and her eyes lost in the waves that crashed rhythmically on the beach. Charles hated when she smoked, so she did it outside, so the stick of the nicotine wouldn't stay on her clothes. Max didn't like it either, but he tolerated the habit because he knew that it helped her calm down, one day he would make her switch to something healthier. Some day. Before stepping out, he caught a glimpse of the beloved lion on one of the living room shelves, so he grabbed it and hugged it close, a familiar calmness running all over his body. If she heard him walk out, she didn't show, but she must definitely have noticed his presence when he sat down next to her. They were used to the silent conversations, they had had them their whole friendship. Secret gazes, millimetric gestures that only they could read, the changes on each other's skins when the other was around. They were used to the effect they had on each other, so he knew that she felt him there when the hairs of her arms stood up and her breathing changed, because even if she didn't say anything, her body did.

"Which one was it this time?". She asked, not even looking at him.

"The night I came out". He had said it so many times that his voice didn't break anymore.

"That one is tough". The comment was swallowed by the poof she gave to the cigarette, but he got it.

"It was. It always comes back whenever I'm happy with you, but angry at racing". And it made sense, after all the punishment wasn't only for coming out of the closet, it was also because Jos was sure that 'the queerness' of Max would make him a mediocre driver.

"You know that losing this championship wasn't your lack of concentration or skill. Charles is as great as us, and for the love of God, Ferrari finally did things right for once". He knew that, still, he lost and he always had a hard time losing. He lost in 2024 against her, he lost in 2025 against Charles, would he ever be able to win again? "You are a 3 times World Champion, Max. You don't owe anything to anyone, and I can assure you that you're not mediocre".

He pulled her close and took her cigarette away, she was about to complain when he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. He believed her, every word, and he was grateful that he had her to remind him of the amazing person he was and could be. They pulled apart when they heard movement inside, the curtains of the living room moving aside as Charles walked out to the balcony. Sleep was still written all over his face, but he woke up fully pretty quickly when he felt the dense atmosphere that wrapped them up. He walked over to them, a mixture of curiousness and worry in his eyes as he scanned them over. They pulled apart to make some room for him to sit in the middle, Charles noticed the lion and the cigarettes, understanding the situation. Resting his back against the building's wall, he pulled them to his chest and ran his hands up and down their arms, hoping for it to be enough. He saw Max's grip tighten around the old stuffed animal, the marks of his pyton's grip over the years clear on it. Charles pulled him a little bit closer and kissed his head.

"You're anything but ordinary".

She did all she could to get loose, but the grip on her arm was so tight it was impossible to break. She screamed and kicked as her mother dragged her to the room, she wished that her racing suit was ticker, so her arm wouldn't hurt that much. Her father was crying and pleading behind them, asking for his wife to finally let go, but it was pointless, when had she ever listened to anything he had to say? The mud of her shoes drew patterns on their living room floor as they neared her bedroom and she wondered if her mother was actually going to use the chancla on her. Her body made contact with the carpeted floor of her room and her mother grabbed her face to make her look at her. She screamed at her face, about how she was a disgrace, a 'marimacho', a 'zorra' playing with the boys instead of being a 'señorita', she went on and on about the shame she brought to the family. She reminded her that no daughter of hers would do something like racing, wear the clothes she wore and go around covered in mud and filth like she did. But the girl just muted the rest of the screams, she just let her say whatever she wanted, because she was not going to stop her from chasing her dream. She had just met the best boys in the world and she was going to race those boys for the rest of her life. No matter what. She felt the chancla hit her back, but it didn't hurt her anymore, no when she knew that it was the price to pay for sneaking out to race. Her mother would change her mind one day, but for that day to come, she had to take it today. No. Matter. What.

She woke up to the sound of the front door closing. Max and Charles were probably back from the supermarket. She sighed as he got up from the couch, the feeling of the chancla still lingering on her skin. It was the worst, the rubber hitting on the same place, over and over again, but it was more hurtful to her pride. The humiliation that came with the beating, the screams, the words, the hate on her mother's eyes. She remembered that beating like it was yesterday, because it was the one that changed everything. It was the first time that, when she was finally left alone in her room, she wasn't scared anymore. That week she met Pierre and he introduced her to Max and Charles the very same day that her mother gave her that beating. Meeting the boys and winning a race against them gave her the push she needed to hold on to her dream and never let go. Her motto was born that day: 'No matter what'. She took it to heart, and kept pushing and pushing, she took as many more beatings as she had, but she kept sneaking out, even if her mother dropped the chancla to grab the wooden spoon from the kitchen, even if the skin of her hands was red and burning from the hard wood against it. She kept pushing, and she became world champion. A hand on her back brought her back to reality and she relaxed against Charles' hand once his scent made her aware of his presence.

"Which one was it?". He asked softly as he ran his hand up and down her back.

"The day we met". She admitted, Max placed the bags on the floor and walked up to them.

"It's okay, Schat, you're safe now". She smiled softly at them.

"I know. It's just that her birthday is in a few days". Charles nodded, understanding.

"You know you don't have to go if you don't want to, Amour". It was her turn to nod.

"I also know that. But she changed a lot over the years. I know that we still have out problems and that she's not a fan of our relationship, but I can see that she's trying". Max was a lot less forgiving, but he was also aware that he wasn't the one with the best record of family choices, he still visited his father.

"I agree that she seems to be trying, Amour, and I admire you a lot for being able to see that and be so forgiving. I still want you to put yourself above everything. Take care of yourself, because you're not any of those things she said. You're wonderful, and we are beyond proud of who you are, okay?". Charles placed his hand against her cheek and she snuggled against it. "We are so very proud, Amour".

Charles rubbed his nose with hers, making her giggle a little, and bringing a smile to Max's lips. It always worked, because if there was something that she needed was softness. It was something that her dad did, treat her with gentleness, with love and with trust. He always believed in her, even if he was so afraid of his wife and had to take even more beatings and insults than her. She didn't blame him, but she was sure that she would never make the same mistakes her dad made. So she looked for gentle men, men with nice words and tender touches, nothing like her mother, nothing like who her dad settled for. And she found Charles and Max, the embodiment of kindness, enough for her heart to skip a beat and her shoulders to relax under their touch. It felt good, being able to be loved, laughing on a daily basis, relying on them when she needed and giving herself the chance of being an open book, unafraid and never judged. A lonely tear fell down her cheek and Max caught it before it made it to her jaw, wiping it away with a swift movement of his thumb. It made her look at him, his blue eyes looking back at her with the same adoration they have been for the past decade. Her heart made a few jumps inside her chest. Max pressed his forehead gently against hers, making her close her eyes with him, the feeling of Charles' hand agains the skin of her back, where the burning of the chancla was just a bitter memory in the back of her mind. Max's lips barely touch hers.

"You're a dream come true".

Charles ran, his lungs burning as the air coming inside was not enough to keep his body moving. The fog around the graveyard and the darkness of the night made his heart race faster, the feeling of it threatening to jump out of his ribcage. He called their names into the silence of the dead, but he couldn't hear anything. Does sound really exist if there's no one to hear it? He passed gravestone after gravestone, the names of his family and friends written in each one of them. He cried, the tears blurring his vision as he desperately looked for their names. He didn't want to be alone, in the dark, in the cold, with the dead. The place seemed to never end, filled with all the people he loved but weren't there anymore, the air felt tight around his body, sour inside his mouth, painful coming into his lungs. He kept searching. What would he do if he couldn't find them? How could he keep on living if they weren't by his side? He couldn't be alone, he didn't want to. He needed them, he needed his friends, his family. He kept searching, because it was the only thing he could do, and as the names kept appearing he felt like his heart just couldn't take it anymore. He fell to his knees, two stones right in front of him. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe anymore, the feeling of his lungs contracting for air but nothing going in. There they were, the names he hoped to never see graved in stone, right in front of his eyes. Charles clawed at the grass, removed the dirt, he felt the cold and humid soil under his fingertips as clear as he felt the daggers inside his chest. He just wanted to pass out, to turn to dust right there so he could join them wherever they were, because no life was worth living without them. But he had had this nightmare before, so he knew, he knew that he was never going to pass out, because this was his biggest fear: living the rest of his life mourning his own.

He woke up alone in the hotel room bed, a halo of cold sweat around him and he inhaled as hard as he could to keep his lungs full. He felt a rush of calm run down his spine when he felt the air come in. He searched for the dirt under his fingernails, only to find them as clean as they were when he went to sleep last night. Getting up, he gave up the longest sigh as he gathered everything he needed to jump in the shower. He needed it, he needed to get rid of the stench of the graveyard that still lingered on his nose, the humidity of the air clenched to his skin, but mostly, he needed to wash away the feeling of loneliness that haunted him still. As the water ran down his body, cleansing him like a religious ritual taking away his sins, he felt the same tug in his heart as he did a few years back. The guilt of that feeling settled inside his belly, like a parasite eating him inside out. He remembered the fear of closeness, how he refused to accept that he loved Max and Y/N because he was terrified of ever losing them, how he had found solace in keeping a comfortable distance, how he convinced himself that he was content with loneliness. He refused to love someone because he knew that the grief is as great as the love you feel. But they found their way into his heart and now he couldn't kick them out. He was destined to suffer, to live in pain. To be alone. He heard movement outside the bathroom as he stepped out of the shower. He opened the door to find his partners changing the bedding. They knew that he hated to be alone in the hotel rooms, he ended up getting sick and tired of sleeping alone over the weekend.

"Which one was it, Poopie?". Max asked, even though the messy sheets and the shower were a big hint. He just wanted to be sure.

"The graveyard". He sat on the bed, the smell of clean sheets comforting against the odor of the humid dirt that he could still remember.

"We're still here, Charlie". She reassured him, her hand on his tight applying a little pressure to ground him there.

"But you'll leave". He replayed softly. She pressed her hand more, a little proof to his heart that they were there.

"Everyone leaves, Poopie, but that doesn't mean you'll be alone". Max sat by his side and ran his finger through his hair, a gesture that brought some warmth to his chest.

"You can't know that". The risk was just so much, too great. "The more I love you the more it'll hurt".

"We know that, because we love just as much, Charles". Max pulled him into a side hug, his head resting against the Dutchman's collarbones. "Loving is a risk and we are all afraid of taking that risk. But, I have known since I met you, that there's just one person that everyone is willing to take the risk for, and that person is you. You're the greatest man I know. Loyal, just, kind, hardworking, you are the epitome of greatness. It's impossible for someone like you to ever be alone".

It wasn't just the words, but how they reverberated inside Max's chest, in sync with his heartbeat that made Charles believe him. It was the warm feeling of Y/N's hand still on his tight. They were there, they were worth it, the fear, the pain. He would rather spend his life mourning them if it gave him the chance to have them for as long as Death allowed him. He was still a work in progress, but he was on his way to believing, trusting, risking. He felt Y/N moving to sit on his lap, her hands carefully adjusting the towel around his hips so it wouldn't loose. She pulled him away from Max and placed his head against her chest, her own heartbeat now strongly pumping against his face. It gave him peace of mind. The feeling of them there, Max's hand still on his hair, her soft hands on his face. They made him feel loved, they made him feel like there was hope in life, no matter how hard the road was. And he finally felt like he may be that special person Max told him he was. Maybe he was one of those people that'll never be alone. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to be so scared. Y/N pulled him away and pressed her lips to his forehead, erasing the frown that tinted his features. Maybe, he was the reason why they were willing to take the risk of loving, even if their whole lives they had only met pain and hurt. Maybe the risk was as great for them as it was for him, so maybe he was the one they risked it all for, even if they said they would never. Maybe, he was comfortable with loneliness, except when it came to them. And he knew, the moment she mumbled against him, that he was...

"You're the only exception".

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I hope you guys like this one. It's really hurt/comfort and I feel like it turned out great. Like, reblog and comment, like you guys always do. Much love!

[baeddel]

on the racist riots in Belfast

i made a post in 2021 titled "dispatch on the unrest in Belfast" (click) trying to provide some local-knowledge context for the sectarian riots in town. i have no such special knowledge to offer this time. it has been, to be honest, shocking to me how many people came to them and how well organized they were. we have seen an increasing prevalence of anti-immigrant racism in the north in recent years; graffiti saying "locals only" (simple meaning: "whites only") on council houses going to market has been reported on since 2014 (click, 2018 click, 2023 click), for example. and in 2022 the PSNI released a report stating that hate crimes of every kind, including racist hate crimes, had reached the highest of any year since they began counting in 2004/5 (click). according to the BBC as of 2014 "on average a racially motivated offence takes place at least once a day" in Belfast (click) and it has only risen since that. but it was obviously not organized at this scale before. my girlfriend remarked that this was the first time Northern Ireland has had a race riot and i think, assuming we treat sectarian riots as something else, that may be true? (the UK-wide 1919 race riots did not seem to affect Ireland from what i could find and anyway were a bit before partition; otherwise they are quite similar to what is happening today).

perhaps no further context is really possible to give; they are race riots and they are happening because of racism. nevertheless i will try and write down some things i've thought about it.

in the 2021 post i talked about the nature of the disorder, where if you looked at the footage mostly people stood on the pavement and watched while the professionals—loyalist paramilitaries—handled the direct action (hijacking and burning busses and such). that is because these demonstrations were organized by the paramilitaries and everyone must obey them. that is not the case here; the crowds attack people of colour and immigrants, their homes or businesses owned by them, wherever they can find them. if they were kicked out of one area they went somewhere else and did it there; or else they did it where they lived as on Sandy Row. so it seems to be genuinely spontaneous and not directed from above.

the paramilitaries claim they did not organize it (the Belfast Telegraph quote what they call a 'senior loyalist' saying "[w]e didn’t start this, we aren’t behind it" click—what a demonstrative article, by the way, the police asking the paramilitaries for help with population control!). they say that about everything, but i think i believe them this time for that reason. it doesn't look paramilitary. i suppose whoever organized it must be taking orders from England. however, we are aware of at least some involvement by paramilitaries. the rightists who travelled up from Ireland were identified by PSNI and Gardaí to be fraternizing with UDA men (click). blueshirts associating with loyalists is not really surprising but i am not sure it has happened before. PSNI also claim there is a "paramilitary element" within the racist riots but are reluctant to say they're behind them (click).

i have talked before about how loyalism has felt a bit of a transition from an armed struggle into something that looks like a popular movement, with demonstrations and direct action becoming the main source of spectacle. it's possible there is a gradual transition towards this point, where paramilitary hierarchy becomes secondary to a spontaneously organized reactionary movement.

it also fits into a pattern that i have talked about before (click, also here), which is that democracy in the north has undergone dramatic changes recently. whereas in the past the national conversation dominated politics, today ordinary issues of civil society are decisive. the DUP lost their monopoly on unionist voters because of how they handled COVID, the border, the cost of living and so forth—problems a normal political party is expected to solve, not a party holding down a sovereignty under siege as they were supposed to be—and that's why SF got the majority. immigration is one such 'normal' political issue, and racist violence breaks out in Belfast in a way that doesn't differ substantially to how it breaks out at the same time in a normal country like England.

speaking of the fracturing of the DUP, i felt that it was significant that we could name, as a precipitating event, the fracturing of the right wing parties in general. in the north of Ireland the DUP lost much of its support, but no single party could replace it; several unionist parties now leech its vote, while moderate unionists vote for Alliance. and in the recent election the Tories lost to Labour, but they also lost many seats to Reform. between SF and Labour we are in an era where for the first time in a long time the UK is governed by center left parties, meanwhile it is unclear what opposition has the mandate of the right-wing voter. this means that for a right wing person electoral party politics looks like an ambiguous, distant and unrewarding terrain of struggle. perhaps that is a background condition as to why racist propagandists have been able to mobilize so many people into joining these events.

something else that struck me as possibly a precipitating event is that for the better part of a year we've had extremely active and persistent organizing around Palestine in the UK, in terms of demonstrations, direct action and even in electoral politics (with several independent candidates who care about Gaza taking seats from Labour in the last election). thus, right-wing racists have seen news about pro-Palestine organizing almost every day for a long time. we know that here in the north when Palestinian flags are flown it isn't long before Israel flags are flown in response. i think it's possible to see the specifically anti-Islamic character of the riots as a kind of counter-revolution or reaction to Palestine.

those were the thoughts i had to share. on Friday 9th (today as i write this) there is a racist demonstration planned, as well as a counter-protest. the counter-protest is backed by NIPSA (a big NI union) as well as the Belfast City Council (! click), so perhaps it will be big. it starts at 4:30pm. stay safe.

[alcqraz]

★ summary — during a sweltering day at the horse races, anthony bridgerton finds himself rather enchanted by a sharp-witted, and competitive newcomer... however his greatest challenge turned out not quite to be their playful banter but perhaps something deeper than just that. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem! reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.8k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff? not really. idiots in love except they don't know they're in love...? anthony being anthony?? ★ authors note: excuse my god horrendous writing, i fear i have just come back from a 2 year hiatus and well.. it seems as if all my writing sense have bene diminished into the ends of the earth. also mutuals. i need mutuals please, i need to be insane to someone.

Anthony always enjoyed a heartfelt competition.

Perhaps a bit too much for the likings of others, but it always seemed to be infused with his blood. It all came so naturally to him; there was no need to try. As a young boy, he would compete with his brothers, Benedict having quite a hearty laugh when he would fail to beat him in whatever makeshift game they conjured up. It made it worse for the already tense gentleman because his annoying, bothersome brother would never stop bringing out how he was younger than Anthony during such times.

But he was not a quitter. He never was, and he decided that he never shall be. Anthony perpetually told himself that, and the results always ended up in his favor at the end of the day. Just as victory appeared within his reach, he let it go once more, easily slipping through his fingers in the subsequent round. Anthony has always been perplexed as to why this pattern only ever appeared to surround him or why he only noticed it within himself far too much. 

It seemed quite the same when it came to his love life as well. Taking away the winning part—he never quite seemed to win. Conceivably, Anthony never thought he could truly love someone with his entire being; the sensation felt so foreign and despicable to think about. An acquaintance, he supposed, was something he could settle with. And yet, an admirable acquaintance proved hard to find in this economy. The number of women that lined up for a dance, a date—whatever it may be, were all too simple-minded, credulous, or even dumb, if Anthony really thought about it. None of them appeared to be a suitable partner.

Those thoughts haunted him day and night throughout the season—the wonder if he’ll ever meet anyone well-suited for him, he pondered to himself. Anthony deemed himself rather fortunate that he was a busy man, bustling about a handful of places in need to complete the tasks firsthand. When he had his hands full with some problem, even if it may be pointless, occupied his mind enough for him to forget about his marital issues. Taxation never seemed more interesting to him.

Conversely, he found that it bothered him most during social events. Whereas his problems stood face-to-face against him, sometimes it felt as if it were a direct punch to the gut. With the remaining eligible ladies dwindling, his temper for it all only grew to being far more annoyed than anything else. Any other year, Anthony would’ve respectively enjoyed the horse race that he attended within the company of his brothers, but at this time, his mind had been elsewhere as he mindlessly stumbled his way around the course grounds.

There were a number of people that stood around him, chatting expressively with one an

other. Ladies whispering in hushed tones, their husbands gathered amongst themselves, likely betting against one another. Anthony couldn’t help but to do so himself—a solid bet did him well most days. Although, perhaps, he wasn’t the brightest when it came to the subject despite betting upon the favoured horse.

Anthony tugs heartily at his neckpiece, adjusting the pressure against his throat as it pressed in such a peculiar way that he began to pay some mind to it. He adjusted it so that it was allowed to rest lightly, not entirely choking him out anymore as it had done just moments ago. The effort ended up being weirdly abominable.

Peeved, bothered, and sweaty, he decided sullenly the lemonade that the event offered would not be such a bad idea to him after all. Refreshing was the only word that happened to catch his mind as he politely hurries his way towards where the stand had caught his eye as he made his way into the event. It seems as if half of the people there had a similar idea, heeding from the lengthiness of the line. He could perhaps find some place else to get some refreshments, but if Anthony is being honest, the idea of continuing to walk in this heat whilst unknowing if there even was anything waiting for him out there, wasn’t one that he would immediately jump to. And so he begrudgingly waits.

The sun beats down harshly upon him, and he tirelessly slides off his top-hat to appease the sweat that had begun to cling onto the sides of his forehead. Anthony dabs the beads away silently with the cuff of his coat when no one else is paying any mind to him. He liked to call himself fortunate as the line dissipates fairly quickly, and it is only a few minutes later when he finds himself nearing the refreshments area.

“Cooling, is it not?” 

It takes Anthony a beat to realize that the sudden intrusion of the voice is addressed towards him. He swivels his head, pivoting himself so he can adjust to the sudden change in position to locate where the sound had come from. He is quick to answer the question as the fine-looking lady standing next to him stares right back into his betrothed soul.

First impressions always stuck near and dear to Anthony, and while usually it would be noted of their personality and not much else, he finds himself in a different situation to the norm. The first thing he notices happens to be the alluring eyes, mysterious with a gaze that would unsettle any person, man or woman. But the expression read differently, a polite smile stretched upon the delicate skin, her fair hair conditioned beautifully for this particular sunny day. Anthony is quick to return the smile, as he had done so many times before in the past. He could regard it as a daily occurrence now.

“Indeed, it is.” His response is considerate, his voice moderately even; it’s as if he were trained for this. And Anthony supposed he quite literally is trained for it. “Especially on a day as sweltering as this.” 

He can faintly hear in the background a man grumbling incoherently about keeping up the line, and he apologetically (although he doesn’t feel very apologetic) responds to the not-so gentleman behind him. He hastily picks his glass, an internal groan erupting in him when a couple of drops spill onto the earthly grass. At least it had avoided his clothing by its means. Anthony had already begun to walk away, lemonade secured, when he noticed the same lady who had engaged him in a brief conversation engaging in the same direction that he was headed. 

“Such events are quite amusing,” Her words are delicate, but they are firm enough for Anthony to know that she stands her ground. She stands ever so beautifully, firm but beautiful, letting her dress flutter slightly into the soft breeze that washes over the course. “I can not say that they were common in my homeland.”

Ah. So that is why Anthony failed to recognize her—a new citizen, or possibly just visiting some family for the season. After all, Mayfair was quite prestigious in its ways if you stood in the high rankings. “So I take that you are not from here?” He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

The lady shakes her head, the hair atop her head bouncing as she does so. “Not quite.” She responded appropriately. She rattles off some place that Anthony had surely never been before, and he nods upon hearing the answer. "I am here visiting, as my cousin kindly offered to host me, and who am I to decline such a gracious invitation?"

The words rolled sweetly off her tongue, as if she were making a harmonious melody. Certainly a clever tongue in her mouth, Anthony could think to himself. “Well then, I must certainly assume that you are here for the season.” 

It was an honest question. The lady looked to be in her earlier years of life, if Anthony really had to make a guess. Fair skin, beautiful features, and a voice as gorgeous as the waves in the ocean—what else would she be doing in Mayfair at this time of the year? It only seemed reasonable to make that assumption. He stands correct when she pushes her head down as an agreement, “Yes.” She says, yet she pauses for a beat before continuing her sentence, "Though I must say, it is quite a considerable departure from what I am accustomed to back home.”

"In a manner most agreeable, I trust?" Anthony says, and the lady smiles approvingly. It was quite a sugary smile, the sort that sat well within the presumably older man. It looked as if the course grounds had gotten crowded by tenfold since Anthony had turned his back, making the exertion towards the stands much harder than what it should’ve been.

“Well, yes.” Whereas, the tone of her voice contradicted what her words have stated. The lady’s eyebrows furrow for a mere moment, as if he were contemplating something of sorts. “Nevertheless, it is quite hard.”

He inclines his head. Anthony could somewhat agree with her words—the season was always stressful, a throatful of things to stress and worry about, a million matters to perfect to attract the best of the best. He had never felt too stressed, perhaps when he was swarmed with tasks to complete for the up-and-coming ball or party, but never on his performance at such events. Anthony believed that is why he suddenly threw himself in as an eligible bachelor, and the best if he may add, was so diminishing. "With a lady such as yourself, I must presume it is not exceedingly difficult."

The lady, which Anthony now realizes that he does not know the name of, blushes a shade of pink that could only be described as warm, like a rose pelting in the wind. She laughs graciously, accepting the compliment with ease. “I must confess, I am flattered, Mr…” Her words trail off as she too comes to realization with the fact she does not know how to address the young gentleman.

“Lord Bridgerton.” He introduces, his voice not in any way condescending as many others may take him on to be.

Anthony takes note of the way the lady’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, followed by the rather flushed look that began to tint at her cheeks. "Oh dear, I beg your pardon, my Lord." Tilting her head down hesitantly as if she were unsure of what formality would be the most appropriate. It almost forces a chuckle out of the Viscount.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Anthony continues on as it is only polite to ask so. 

"Mm, indeed. How remiss of me not to mention it beforehand…” The lady says, letting out a sort of awkward laugh that could be seen as rather affectionate. “My name is Y/n.” The lady states, followed by a surname that Anthony can faintly remember to be as one of the other Viscounts that lived in the city, although he couldn’t quite say he knew the name all too well. Certainly not one that he had talked to on the occasion.

“I see,” Anthony nods along, a faint smile tainted upon his lips before he even knows it himself. “Charming gentleman your cousin is.” He could not say if the man was truly charming, or a gentleman at all, as he had only read a couple lines about it from the Lady Whistledown paper that his family had received a couple of long weeks ago. 

“Charming, indeed.” The words were more so grumbled, as if she didn’t quite agree with the statement. “That is certainly one way to describe him.”

He chuckles at the disdain laced upon her voice. Anthony fairly enjoyed the new sense of emotion—most ladies he had the pleasure of talking with all embellished their compliments in spite of thinking the opposite. Being able to hear an objection that wasn’t sugarcoated heavily; Anthony would think that he notably liked the trait that distinguished Y/n.

The course grounds slowly appear into Anthony’s line of vision as the conversation dies down. The sound of chatter that did come from his or her mouth refilling his ears—excited husbands yelling bets at one another, ladies shaking their heads as so—the look that was etched on their faces would be one that Anthony could appreciate and find humorous.

"I must confess, some of the wagers being placed are rather simplistic in nature." Y/n cuts in through the stillness of their discussion beforehand. A nice conversation starter, but one that would rile many people up. "It appears as though none of these individuals have ever graced a racecourse before! How utterly rash of them to bet upon the favored contender solely because of his popularity."

He can’t help but be taken aback, although once again, her exaggeration was one that could be seen as comical. That is, before he had realized that he himself had also bet upon the favored horse, Nectar, which Anthony assumed the lady was talking about. For a moment, he wonders if her words are pure bullshit, if she was just making conversation with him. It is as if Y/n sees right through him.

“Oh my, do not tell me you have also fallen into the unfortunate trap of betting for Nectar.” Anthony can’t quite place what expression she expresses, but it does not look good. Disappointed, or perhaps pity. 

“Naturally, I betted upon him, it is a sensible bet, and he is a horse of sound character who shall undoubtedly finish with victory this afternoon.” He defends, the tone of his voice sounding rather offended at the plain mention of his unwary wager. Something deep down in him wonders if the lady was indeed right, if he really did not know what he was doing. Again, Anthony could not say he was educated well enough, and admittedly, he had bet upon Nectar due to the favorability of his win. “I have a well placed feeling about him.”

“A feeling?” Y/n’s eyebrow cocks up, the smile on her face now more jovial than polite. “Or is it the choosing of the horse that everyone has chosen? Well, I do suppose that adds to the list of husbands who shall be more than disappointed once the race has concluded.”

“I beg your finest pardon, I have made a strategic bet.” His words are more puncuated than before, suddenly relishing within the first person to truly give him some sort of competition that did not stem from his brothers or family, for that matter. “Nectar is a prized steed. He is quite well bred, highly trained, and, as many other people have shown, well favored.”

Y/n tsks, shaking her head as if she were scolding Anthony as his mother and father had done when he was a young boy. “I must assume you have not considered the quality of the racing course and the weather to assess the true potential? Although these sorts of events are not truly common back in my homeland, I do must say that many of these may just be common sense.”

She knows that her words are stretching the truth, that it wasn’t just common sense, but Y/n must admit that she took delight in having a friendly banter. She climbs up onto one of the wooden bleachers, sitting herself upon the heated seat, with Anthony following quickly behind her. “You see, my cousin had kindly explained to me the expectations of the race, and it is said that Nectar raced well at Doncaster; however, the track conditions were far from the same. A firmer course, if you will. While now, over here…” She pauses to wave her hand at the field of grass in front of her view. “It is much softer, and it is a rather humid day. He will much slowdown in the final leg, giving HighFlyer the much easy victory.”

Anthony scoffs. Foolish? Perhaps. Tinted with truth? Also yes. "Are you merely echoing the words your cousin imparted to you earlier?" He argues as well, Anthony never backed down from a challenge, and this lady was surely challenging him.

“And are you merely saying that I do not know about horse racing because I am a woman?” She tilts her head to look directly at Anthony; the grin that is placed strategically on her face was one that he could not argue with. And he is sure of that when he opens his mouth to bite back, but being blatantly unable to respond with something witty. Oh, that shit-eating smirk that was so easily disguised as a polite smile made Anthony oh-so infuriatingly upset. Upset because she knew what she was doing; upset because, well, he was moderately fond of that smile.

“We shall see then.” 

Famous last words, because well, he is proved to be utterly wrong. The course of disappointed groans that steamed through the crowd, which Anthony would not admit (but was a part of), as HighFlyer flew his way across the finish line were abominably loud. Nectar staggered behind him moments later, but not before the crowd had seen how winded he was by the heat and conditions. 

The lady behind him had laughed in delight, unable to celebrate fully before she must turn towards Anthony to shove it into his face. “I can not say that I have ever beat a viscount before.” Suddenly, all formality that was once there had been gone, destroyed, as if it had never been there in the first place. “I do suppose there is always a first.”

“And a last.” Anthony grumbles under his breath, in hope that Y/n would close off her ears to the harsh criticism. To his luck, she does hear.

“I must concede, you are just like the many men who claim to be gentlemen.” She replies, even though she seemed not to be very upset by the Viscount’s words. If that had been the case, it would have appeared as though Anthony had experienced numerous episodes of frustration—possibly humorous ones, but nonetheless, frustration.. "Unwilling to concede defeat, even when it lies directly at his feet." 

“I am able to concede defeat if the defeat deserves to be conceded.” His words are sharp, even though the smile tugging at his face says different to his own jumble of words. Anthony could not quite help it when he sees her eyes light up with something that he could not describe. “If it dares, look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, is that right, my Lord?” She questions, carrying herself with the confidence that he hadn’t seen in forever. An admirable trait indeed, if Anthony must admit. "Does not defeat gaze directly upon you as HighFlyer is crowned the victor of this afternoon's fine race.”

He sighs. Anthony was never one to be dramatic; he always held himself upright and, in his family's words, rather serious. Still, he had to admit that his gasp was a bit dramatic. “Ah… well.” His words trail off slowly, grimacing at the truth of the lady’s words. “I suppose you are… right this time.” The syllables were uttered slowly, followed by another huff of a breath that he could only feel to himself.

She laughs, that beautiful melody of a laugh. While in many cases, it would be regarded as an unpleasant sound unless it was done so delicately, hers was not delicate, nor was it ungracious. It was as if the notes from every music piece ever composed had all come together to form one masterpiece of a harmony, one that ebbed and flowed in all the right ways. 

“Oh rejoice! What a sound those words are!” Y/n breathes dreamfully. 

The track is far from empty, with many individuals walking over to congratulate the winner, while the others either mourn the losses of their empty wallets, or giggling gleefully over their new-found bundles of heritage. However, the bleachers were starting to thin out, leaving just a select few groups.

There is a sense that weaves through him as he ponders his next move. He could surely just stand himself up, mutter out a respectable goodbye, and leave, yet at the same time, he could not allow himself to just do that. Anthony seemed far better off conversing with this lady than with any other of the ones that he had danced or engaged with in the slightest. The thought made him laugh at his own stupidity, and yet;

"I cannot suppose it would be honorable of me not to inquire if you might attend the Hearts and Flower Ball with me. I trust you have heard of it?" Anthony asks, not just out of politeness but also the small amount of desire he feels for just a beat of a moment. One that felt odd and far too new in his chest, something that he had yet to feel in the weeks that had came, and the weeks yet to come. 

The lady showed a glimpse of astonishment, and Anthony wonders if he had made the right decision upon asking her about it in the first place. "My Lord, are you, perchance, inquiring if you wish to take me on a social outing?" Though even she could hear the tiny quiver that was woven, her voice seemed steady as she spoke.

“I… suppose I am, yes.” He stands with his head gently cocked to the right, extending his hand in consolation. Anthony can feel the regret seeping into his words as they were carefully placed, because God, if she came to deny his request, he was sure he could drop dead on the grass at that given moment. 

“I would love to.” And Anthony would not be able to stop the sigh of relief that washed over him even if he had tried. The tension that creased his forehead, all the way down to his calves, was quickly overridden with a sense of declaration. 

As he wove through the throngs of disassembling guests, waving courteously to the lady that he swore to uncover the mystery of, Anthony finally let himself pry out of dapper smile. For the first time in a while, he felt as if he were winning. Not just a kid-made, pointless game, but something much deeper than he could have ever imagined. Except, this time, he would not allow it to simply just… escape his grasp.