#also the part about making each other laugh when needed or saying the exact right things

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

To lighten her mood, I read a tribute Volodymyr had paid to her in Vogue Magazine, when he said: "She is my love. She is my greatest friend.  Olena really is my best friend.  She's also a patriot, and she deeply loves Ukraine, and she's an excellent mother." Ms Zelenska’s face instantly lit up into a beaming grin. "Fortunately, he tells me this very often.  But we are really friends and I think that's the secret of our relationship. We understand each other and we support each other. "It's not just the words, well done, keep working, I believe in you. No, we can make each other laugh when it's needed or we can tell each other, 'Get a grip, go get your job done'. We feel each other."

From the upcoming Olena interview

[woso-dreamzzz]

Treat You Better V

Laia Codina x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, Laia can't understand you

When Laia first joined Arsenal, she studied English hard.

Arsenal was a big change and she wanted to hit the ground running and she did for the most part.

The only issue she had was understanding everyone's accents.

You and Katie are very Irish. It leaks from your every pore, right down to the way that you both decorate your cubbies at training.

Your accent is a little softer than Katie's, more tempered by the English people you surround yourself with.

It's softest at home with Laia, when you're both curled up on the sofa together, watching some mindless tv show to help Laia with her English.

But your Dublin accent comes out when you're around Katie.

It's thick and throaty and Laia is always shocked when it suddenly switches back to your softer one when it's just you two again.

Laia loves your accent, she really does. It's different to everyone else's she's heard and it's so unapologetically you that she can't hate it.

But, god, does it make you difficult to understand.

Laia can barely follow along as she sits at your side at the breakfast place you've dragged her to. Katie's there as well, opposite you in the booth.

You're both talking at a mile a minute and Laia just can't keep up. Your words jumbled into each other and it's like you don't even need to come up for air, your accent mixing with Katie's until it's all just a jumbled mess in Laia's ears.

She'd be a little bit annoyed if it weren't for the fact that you're still holding her hand under the table and the look on your face is so happy that clearly she isn't missing out on much by not being able to understand.

It also helps that Caitlin, who sits opposite her, looks like she's in the exact same boat. That helps a little, that a native English speaker also can't keep up with the fast paced Irish accent that's filled the booth.

"Honestly," Caitlin whispers over the table, leaning forward so you and Katie can't hear her," It's like listening to the radio in another language. I can never tell what they're saying."

"It's easier when it's just me and y/n," Laia confesses and Caitlin nods along.

"Yeah. Katie always slows it down when it's just us. I don't know what it is about those two being together that brings out this side of them."

"Side of who?"

It's impressive the way your accent switches back to what Laia normally hears when you're not addressing Katie, the way it softens and goes smooth.

"No one," Caitlin says.

You look at her in confusion for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your conversation with Katie.

It's not just with Katie that your accent switches though, Laia notes as she sits next to you on the sofa one night.

You're on the phone to your parents and it goes all thick and throaty again. You're not talking quite as quickly and you're not talking quite as hard but your accent does turn back to what Laia supposes it must be like at home in Ireland.

She has no idea what you're saying but she could listen to you waffle on forever.

You're talking to your mother about something, Laia can only catch a few words here and there but she can't help but stare, a small smile on your face as you laugh at whatever your mum has just said to.

"Yeah, yeah," You say," I've got her here. Do you want to talk to her?"

Laia sits up a little bit.

"Laia, my Mam wants to talk to you."

It's in that moment, when Laia takes the phone from you and greets your mother, that she realises your accent was a much more tame version than everyone else's.

Your Mam speaks fast and without her being here in person, Laia can't attempt to lip read to fill the gaps. She talks fast and it seems like she's asking questions that Laia stumbles through answering, hoping that her hesitation is put down to English not being her first language.

Somehow though, with her head reeling and a little more stumbling over her words, she makes it through the conversation and you both say goodbye to your Mam.

"She approves," You preen, puffing out your chest like her approval of your girlfriend is the greatest thing you've ever done," You really impressed her."

"I did?"

"Yeah. She's super impressed. She said that she'll come over to visit us soon. You haven't lived if you haven't tried my Mam's roast. Perfect every time."

You relax back on the sofa, arm flung over Laia's shoulder.

"I...But how? I-I stumbled over my words. I couldn't under-"

She catches herself but you seem to know exactly what she was going to say.

"Understand her? Yeah, Mam does that whenever I date anyone that isn't Irish. She really exaggerates the accent but you really pushed through."

"Wait, that was on purpose?"

"For sure. Mam won't accept anyone who doesn't try. She was really impressed with you."

Laia grins, feeling pretty proud of herself.

"It's why me and Katie have been training you." You grin at Laia as she looks at you in disbelief. "If you could handle us together then you can certainly handle my Mam."

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part seven

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six

Lando almost spits out the sip of his drink he just took. Did he hear that correct? It can’t be, right? His face fall flat when Pierre looks al him while waiting for his answer. Does he really need to answer this? Pierre just asked him if you’re - or in Pierre’s words: his friend, still single. Oscar is also looking at Lando, waiting for the boy to react. The boys are having dinner with each other to end this race weekend and chat. You’re still at the hotel, not wanting to interrupt Lando his boys night. He did however try to get you along with him. He should have stayed with you.

“Lando?” Pierre asks.

“Uh, which friend do you mean?” Lando reacts. He knows for sure it’s about you, but he hopes it’s not. He can’t even imagine who else Pierre could mean. There aren’t more female friends of his who are joining him to the races often. It’s always you. Fucking Pierre.

“The one who is with you almost every race,” Pierre says, “What’s her name again?” 

Great Pierre wants to know if you’re single, but he doesn’t even know your name. It annoys Lando already. Before he can answer his question, Daniel is already speaking. 

“You mean Y/N,” Daniel interrupts. Pierre starts nodding right away, “Yes! Is she still single?”

Oscar stares at Lando. He wonders how Lando is going to react to this. Whatever will happen next can’t be good. It doesn’t surprise him when Lando takes a big gulp of the strong drink in front of him before looking at Pierre again. Oscar lets out a small sigh, this can’t be going well. 

“Yeah, she is,” Lando eventually answers. It pains him to have to say those words. Why are you still single? Why isn’t he making sure that you’re his? Then all this problems would have been solved. He only has to confess that he has been in love with you since he was ten or something, totally easy to do. Fuck.

“Great,” Pierre replies happily, “I’m thinking about asking her on a date soon.”

“You want to date Y/N?” Max asks confused, “Do you even know her?” 

Lando is glad about Max his reaction. He wonders the exact same thing. Oscar is also happy about Max asking questions instead of Lando. Since his teammate is sending angry glares towards the Alpine driver, he almost looks like he wants to kill him. Oscar wonders what’s going on in Lando his head right now, but he’s pretty sure that it’s the same thing as when he told him about Logan wanting to date Y/N. He doesn’t understand why Lando isn’t already dating you.

“Don’t know her yet,” Pierre says with a small smirk.

“I don’t think you’ll match with her,” Lando states. Before Pierre or anyone else can question his statement, Lando already continues to talk. “You’re not her type and I don’t even know if she’s yours when I look at your exes. Y/N doesn’t like to go out all the time, she wants someone to settle with her instead of some meaningless relation which will last a couple months.” Oscar can’t withhold a small laugh, his friend really is the worst.

“I’m changing,” Pierre states, “I want to settle as well and with her.”

“Why her?” Max butts in.

“She’s really good looking,” Pierre answers without even thinking about a better answer. It causes Lando to let out another sigh. Does Pierre only want you for your looks? Doesn’t he even realize what you have to offer beside them? Lando thinks about all you actually have to offer beside being beautiful. He loves how smart you are, but how you can also match his dumb questions sometimes. You can read multiple books on a day, but have trouble with pronouncing the most simple words. Or the way you -

“So do you have her number for me?” Pierre interrupts his thoughts.

“My phone is empty,” Lando quickly replies.

Oscar notices the next big gulp Lando takes from his drink. He also notices the sad, annoyed look on his friends face. Maybe Lando thinks nobody is paying attention to him when he whispers again, but Oscar hears it perfectly. “Fuck,” Lando grunts annoyed, “”Why does everyone want her.”

The night doesn’t continue smoothly like before. Pierre makes multiple remarks about you, which causes Lando to get even more annoyed and to drink even more. The people who are a bit closer with Lando and know him pretty well - like Oscar, Max and Daniel, are quick to notice to jealousy which doesn’t leave Lando his mind anymore. He can only think about Pierre who wants to date you. When Daniel starts to order multiple shots in order to help Lando ‘forget’, Oscar is already afraid for the outcome. Lando is getting more drunk with the second. This can’t go well. 

When almost everyone has left, Oscar is the one who still pays attention to Lando. He doesn’t dare to leave his friend alone like this. He wonders how Lando will ever get back to the hotel without any help. Eventually he takes Lando outside with him, walking towards a taxi with him. He sighs when he thinks about the other drivers who already left without even thinking about their drunk friend. 

The taxi driver is glad to bring them back to the hotel, the only problem seems to be Lando. He doesn’t want to get in the cab. Oscar realizes that Lando is even more drunk then he already thought. He curses Pierre for his god awful remarks about you but also curses Daniel for all the shots. He’s all alone with Lando, who doesn’t want to get in any cab right now. 

“You don’t understand, I want Y/N to come pick me up,” Lando states drunkly when Oscar asks him about his reasons to not want to take the taxi. 

“If you’re getting in the cab you’ll be with her sooner,” Oscar states.

“I want her to pick me up,” Lando slurs.

“I can’t call her awake for this,” Oscar argues.

“Yes you can,” Lando argues back, “She’ll come.”

The taxi driver is already focusing on other people, who are actually getting into the car instead of arguing next to it. Eventually the taxi drives away. Oscar curses Pierre again, this is all his fault. Okay and maybe partly Lando his fault. Why isn’t he just honest about his feelings for you? The two of you should be dating already. How hard can it be.

“Are you going to call her?” Lando asks. It causes Oscar to snap back into reality. He looks at the hopeful eyes of his drunk friend. Eventually he shows him a small nod. Maybe when Lando realizes that you don’t want to pick them up, he’ll get him in a cab. He searches for your contact in his phone and presses the call button. When he hears the phone goes over, he thinks that it might have been smarter to call you with Lando his phone. Before he can change anything, you already pick up the phone. 

“Hi Oscar, what’s up?” You ask him with a surprised tone in your voice.

“Hey, sorry for calling you this late. I hope I didn’t awake you?” Oscar says with a guilty feeling.

“Oh no,” you’re quick to reassure him, “I was still up, I’m waiting for Lando to get back. I can’t sleep peacefully when he’s still out.”

Oscar really wants to slap the both of you until you’re dating each other. Why aren’t you dating yet? He’s getting more tired about the obliviousness between you two with the day. 

“Uh, okay,” he reacts, “Listen, Lando is really drunk and I can’t get him in a cab. He wants you to pick us up. Sorry. I already tried to get him into multiple cabs but with no succes.”

He doesn’t get a quick response this time. Oscar does however hear some vague sounds on your side of the call. Are you actually getting ready to pick them up? Oscar doesn’t believe it. It would be more logical for you to ask to speak to Lando and tell him he needs to get into the cab. He waits for you to say something. 

“Can you text me the location?” You ask Oscar eventually, “I’m already walking towards the car.” 

Oscar doesn’t know how to react at first. He feels extremely confused. Are you really this quick to drop everything so you can come pick up Lando? He now knows for sure that Lando needs to question himself. Lando should ask you to date directly. The two of you should be dating already. This is just plain stupid.

“Yes, yes!” He says to you, “Thank you so much.” Even with all his confused feelings right now, he’s still glad that you’re already getting into the car. You’re making his night a lot easier. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” you tell Oscar before ending the call. Oscar is quick to send you his location and sits down next to Lando on the pavement. Lando sends him a hopeful look. 

“She’s insane,” Oscar tells his friend, he’s still confused by your simple reaction. “You really need to ask her on a date soon mate, because why on earth is she coming to pick us up at this time if she isn’t feeling anything for you?”

“That’s our friendship,” Lando answers, “don’t look into this too much.”

“You’re stupid,” Oscar sighs annoyed.

“But she’s coming?” Lando asks. His drunk mind isn’t active enough to realize that this means that you’re coming to pick them up. “Yes,” Oscar replies.

It doesn’t take you longer then ten minutes to arrive at Lando and Oscars location. When you park Lando his rental car on the sideway next to them, they’re quick to step in. Or better said, Oscar is quick to help Lando up and to get into the passenger seat next to you. After that he takes place on the backseat. In the mean time Oscar thanks you multiple times for picking them up this quick.

“Oh it’s nothing,” you shrug it off, “but why is Lando this drunk?” You could have asked the question to Lando himself, but he hasn’t said anything since he’s seated next to you. He is however quite touchy. His hand has found it’s way to your thigh. 

Oscar doubts about his answer, he can’t really tell you about Pierre his statements right? Eventually he just tells you that Lando took to many shots. He doesn’t say anything about the earlier conversations with Pierre in which Lando drank away multiple strong drinks. You chuckle after hearing Oscar his explanation. 

“He really can’t handle his shots,” you joke.

“I noticed,” Oscar sighs, “He kept asking for you though, is that normal when he’s drunk?” Oscar hopes you understand the hint. Since Lando isn’t doing anything about his crush, Oscar decides to help his teammate a bit by dropping some hints. 

“Oh I normally pick him up after he drinks, so I guess it’s out of habit,” you tell Oscar without even thinking about it. Oscar realizes that you don’t get it as well. You’re just as clueless as Lando himself. “But I don’t get why he is this silent,” you continue, “normally Lando is rather talkative when he’s drunk.”

Oscar doesn’t think about his next words. “I think he’s a bit busy with staring at you,” he states. You let out a soft laugh and let go of the steer with one hand, softly giving Lando a small squeeze in his hand before returning to the steering wheel. Lando shows you a small grin. You realize that Oscar is right, Lando has been staring at you since he is in the car. That’s not his normal drunk behavior. You wonder where this is coming from. 

When you’re back at the hotel, you start to realize how drunk Lando is. He’s barely getting out of the car by himself and he can’t walk without almost falling over every time. Oscar and you are both supporting Lando by a side while walking towards the elevator. Lando leans a bit onto you, causing you to almost fall over as well. 

“Do you want to bring him back to his room together?” Oscar asks you. 

“Oh it’ll be fine, we’re sharing a room,” you quickly answer, “You already did enough.”

Oscar shows you a confused look. He didn’t realize that Lando and you shared a room. Is this something that you do every time Lando takes you with him to a race weekend? Is this normal for the two of you? Everything about it screams ‘dating’ but Oscar doubts that either of you knows about that. 

“You’re sure that you two aren’t dating each other?” Oscar asks even confused.

“Can I be honest?” You ask. Oscar is quick to say yes. “Sometimes I think we’re dating as well,” you tell Oscar honestly, “but to answer your question, we’re not dating.” 

Oscar decides to push his luck with his next question. He needs to know it for sure. “Do you want to date him?” He asks you. You look at Lando before answering Oscar his question. It seems like Lando is in his own world right now. He isn’t paying attention to your soft conversation with Oscar. Something that causes you to have to opportunity to be honest with Oscar right now.

“Yes,” you confess, “Why would I otherwise drop everything to come with him to every race he wants me to? And why would I drive late at night in an unknown city to pick him up while he could easily take a cab?”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Oscar says softly, “because I’m pretty sure that Lando feels the same about you. Don’t you think?” 

The elevator makes a loud sound to tell you that you’re on the right floor. “Oh I need to get out here,” you tell Oscar, “See you later!” 

Oscar sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “Thanks for picking us up again.”

When you finally reached Lando and yours hotel room, it’s another job to get Lando into the bed. You’re glad that you have seen him naked before, because this would have been the first time other wise. Lando is undressing himself, but almost falling over a couple times while doing so. You decide to undress yourself as well, it doesn’t take long before you’re only wearing Lando his shirt and a string. 

Lando is quick to grab you and drag you into the bed with him. He pushes his body against yours, causing you to feel his member against your ass. Lando plays with your hair in the mean time. You notice the smell of alcohol every time Lando breathes. You stay silent about it. 

“Babygirl,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. It’s the first thing he has said since you have picked him up. He doesn’t continue with his question. You move yourself around, causing you to face Lando. “Yeah?” You ask him. 

“Would you date Pierre?” Lando asks you without giving it a second thought. He’s annoyed about his own bluntness right now. You on the other hand wonder about his question, where did this come from? 

“No,” you answer Lando without really thinking about it, “Pierre seems a fuckboy. He isn’t my type.”

“Thank god,” Lando whispers relieved. 

Before you can say anything else, Lando continues to ask questions. 

“What about Logan, would you date him?” Lando continues. 

“No,” you answer rather quickly. “I don’t think that I’m made to be an American,” you joke. 

Lando asks you another question. You can barely hear him. To be honest, you wonder if you did hear him correctly. Is he really asking you this? 

“Would you date me?” Lando asks you as soft as he can manage. This time he really curses himself. Why did he just ask that? He doesn’t even want to hear your answer. You’re going to say no - just like you don’t want to date Pierre or Logan, you also don’t want to date him. “Just joking,” Lando says quickly, “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight baby.” 

You’re confused by Lando his question, but even more confused by him stating that it was a joke. Nonetheless you wish Lando goodnight as well. You even press a soft kiss against his cheek. It doesn’t take Lando long before he’s deep asleep. Just to be sure, you listen to him snore a couple times. While laying with your head on Lando his chest and listening to his restful heartbeat and deep breaths, you answer his earlier question. 

“I’d love to date you Lando,” you softly whisper, “You only have to ask.”

+++

The following morning Lando awakes with a massive headache. Memories of last night are quick to return to him. It doesn’t take long before he starts to feel ashamed. Why didn’t he just take the taxi? He is ashamed for his own actions, the whining until you picked them up but also the questions he asked you in bed later. The only feeling he can’t shake off is that he feels loved by you. He feels loved when he thinks about you actually picking him up that late in an unknown city. However when he realizes that you hate driving in unknown cities, he’s quick to replace the loved feeling for more shame. Why did he ask that from you?

He also feels ashamed for the questions he asked you before falling asleep. The shame is getting to him. But on the other hand, his questions did cause him to know for sure that you wouldn’t date Pierre or Logan. But still. There are many other boys with interest in you. 

Lando moves a bit away from you to grab his phone. He notices that it’s on the charger, he probably didn’t do that himself. He grabs his phone and reads the texts he got. The first one causes him to already feel bad once again.

Pierre Gasly: Send me y/n her number?

Lando doesn’t even react to the text. Of course he’s not going to send Pierre your number. He’s not an idiot. He ignores the message and continues to read the texts Oscar has send him.

Oscar: you better remember what y/n did for you last night

Oscar: and you better think about a way to thank her for it

Lando is quick to reply to the texts from his teammate. 

Lando: ofc I remember

Lando: how can I thank her? 

Oscar: idk, thats up to you mate

When Lando feels you moving next to him, he realizes that you’re getting awake as well. He looks at you when you slowly open your eyes and adjust them to the bright morning light in the hotel room. You let out a small yawn. The tiredness hasn’t left your body after sleeping, maybe it’s caused by the lack of sleep from last night. 

“Hey Lan,” you softly greet him, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Lando confesses, “Sorry for last night princess.” 

“It’s okay,” you quickly tell Lando, “you always pick me up as well when I’m drunk, so I could finally do something back for you.” 

“But I could have gotten into the cab,” Lando sighs while feeling annoyed with himself once again, “I know you hate driving in unknown cities and certainly in the night.”  

“Lan,” you softly say while grabbing his hand and drawing small circles on it, “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind it.” 

Lando shows you a boyish grin. You wonder what his next actions are. What is he going to say? His following movements cause that you can already guess it. Lando slowly drapes himself on top of you. He presses soft kisses on your face before lowering his face to other body parts of you. He toys with the waistband the waistband of your string. Happy that you’re not wearing anything else then that string and his shirt. Eventually Lando pulls away your string and throws it onto the ground. 

“Maybe I can thank you like this?” Lando mutters. After saying those words, he’s already pressing kisses against your more private parts. When he presses a soft kiss against your clit and he hears a moan coming from your lips, he feels his own boxers tighten as well. He slides his finger through your slit. It doesn’t take him long to notice that you’re already getting wet. He makes sure to ignore your clit for now, just licking around it slowly. He know he’s a terrible tease, but he can’t help himself. He loves hearing you whine and beg for him. 

“Lan,” you softly whine when he lets his finger enter you, but still uses a slow pace. It’s making you feel all kind of things, but not enough. Lando shows you another boyish grin. “Teasing me isn’t thanking me,” you tell him when his pace keeps unchanged. 

“Patience babygirl,” Lando tells you. You let out a moan when he finally presses his lips onto your clit and softly sucks it inside his mouth. He adds another finger inside your pussy, causing you to let out hard moan. “Fuck,” you mutter. Lando increases his pace with his fingers. You can properly say that he’s finger fucking you right now. He is more aggressive then normal, but in a strange way you like this only more. 

“Fuck Lan,” you let out when he adds another finger. 

“Who’s making you feel this good babygirl?” Lando asks you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but he feels the need to hear you say it’s him. Now that he thinks about it, he knows pretty well that this is happening because of (mainly) Pierre. And all the other boys that have showed their interest in you. 

You show Lando a small smirk, “Hm, I don’t know,” you joke. 

“You don’t know?” Lando asks you with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t expect this answer from you. Since when can you act bratty like this? He shows you a stern look, but increases his pace in the mean time. He’ll show you who makes you feel like this. Lando feels you clenching around his fingers. He sucks harshly onto your clit before releasing it to look at you. 

You haven’t said anything again, the only sound leaving your tongue are moans. While looking stares at you and thinks about his next action, you feel your orgasm reaching. This time Lando decreases his pace. He removes two of his fingers and is barely doing anything that the finger that stays inside of you. 

“Fuck Lan,” you whine, “Why did you stop?”

“That’s what you deserve for that answer,” Lando simply states. He knows that he should be a bit more patient and calm with you, not showing you all of his dominant side - but right now, he can’t really help himself. You show Lando a desperate look, “It was just a joke,” you tell him. 

Lando removes his last finger as well. You can’t even help yourself and try to move yourself closer to him. Fuck, you want him to continue. 

“Funny,” Lando remarks sarcastically. 

“Sorry Lan,” you whine, “Please continue?”

“No,” he states sternly, “You can work for it yourself now.”

Lando pulls you onto his thigh. Making sure that your pussy is right on top of it. He feels your wetness on his thigh on only seconds. “Want to orgasm?” He asks you. You can only nod. “Then help yourself on my thigh.”

“How?” You ask helplessly, you have no idea what Lando means. 

“Grind on it,” Lando explains with a softer voice then before, “move your body and you’ll notice what feels right for you.” 

You try to act out Lando his instructions. It takes you a couple movements before getting what he meant. Now that you know how to do this right, it’s making you feel good. Really good. But not good enough for your orgasm to get closer then before. Lando continues to tease you into the mean time. His hands wander over your body while you keep riding his thigh. He finds your tits and starts to knead them. Suddenly he pinches your nipples, both of them at the same time. You let out a surprised squeak. You feel them burn a bit because of the pinch, but in a strange way it makes you feel even more horny. You try to ride his thigh faster then before. Lando watches your reactions closely, when he pinches your nipples again he can safely say that you like the feeling. He knows for sure when he does it a third time and it causes you to let out a hard moan. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it princess?” Lando asks you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him.

Lando knows you want to say more, he knows this isn’t the same as what he was doing to you before. And maybe, really maybe, that was exactly his plan. “But?” He asks you.

“It’s not enough,” you confess with red cheeks. 

Lando lets out a deep chuckle. “That’s what you get after your bratty joke,” he tells you sternly. You show him the most pleading eyes you can manage, but Lando shakes his head at you. “Why do you deserve my help?” He asks you. 

“Please Lan,” you whine, “I can’t do this myself.”

“Do what?” Lando knows perfectly well that you’re talking about reaching your orgasm, but he wants you to say it for yourself. 

“Orgasm,” you whisper ashamed. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, “And make sure that I understand how much you need me.”

You ride his thigh even faster then earlier, but it’s still not enough. “Help me Lan,” you softly beg him, “Please?” Lando doesn’t reply. You continue your pleas. “I need you,” you whimper, “can’t come without you.” Even when those aren’t causing him to help you, you keep continuing. “No one can make me feel like you can,” you tell Lando without giving it a second thought. “Need you to make me feel good.”

That causes Lando to finally land his hands on your body. His ego is almost getting to big for himself right now after hearing all your pleas. He grabs your hips and helps you with your movements. For a moment he wonders if you can come undone just like this, but he decides he doesn’t want to find it. At least, not today. You deserve his help. Lando feels the wetness from your cunt dripping onto him. His thigh is unbelievably wet right now. 

He removes one of his hands from your waist. You directly look at him, wondering if he’s going to stop again. But Lando lets his hand wander to your clit. He starts to stimulate your clitoris, pulling out multiple moans of you. He notices that you’re coming really close right now. His thigh is even getting more wet because of you. Before you cum, he takes a moment to take it in. You look so beautiful riding on his thigh like this, making it wet without feeling ashamed about it just for your own pleasure. His boner is almost bursting. He should picture you like this and show it to every other boy - that way they would know that you’re his. Not that you are. Maybe if everyone smelled his thigh right now they would already get it, since he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like this. 

Fuck, he needs to make you his. Why aren’t you his already? 

When you let out a loud moan, Lando realizes that you are getting awfully close to your orgasm right now. “Ask me,” Lando instructs you. He doesn’t even need to specify himself, you’re already asking him exactly what he wants.

“Can I come?” You ask him, “Please Lan?” 

“Yes babygirl,” Lando answers, “You deserve it.”

That’s all it takes for you to come undone. Your orgasm is crashing over you. Lando pulls you into his arms and lets you fall down over his body. 

“Fucking hell,” you mutter after a bit, “it’s actually insane how you can make me feel.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Lando asks you. Looking back at it, he did go further then he wanted. He stresses that he was a bit too dominant for you. 

“No,” you reply without even thinking about it, “I don’t think it was even close to ‘too much’,” you add honestly. 

“I can push more?” He asks you surprised. 

“Yes,” you state, “I think I’d like that.”

Lando lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head. He really can’t believe it. You’re actually perfect. He really needs to tell you about his feelings. Maybe now is a good timing? In the mean time you grab your phone and look at it. Lando notices your surprised face.

“Any idea why Pierre Gasly is texting me?” You ask Lando confused.

Fucking hell. Lando lets out an annoyed sigh. Fuck. He shakes his head to answer you. You open the message and start to read it aloud to Lando.

“Hey,” you start reading, “Got your number from Daniel. You’re really hot. Let’s get to know each other on a date?”

Hot? Lando cringes by the words of Pierre. He doesn’t even know how hot you can be. In the mean time Lando also curses his former teammate, why did Daniel send him your number? 

“What are you going to answer?” Lando asks you quickly. He can’t even help himself and starts to talk badly about Pierre. “You know Pierre is a terrible player right?” He realizes that his jealousy is showing, but he can’t help it. He needs to know that you’re not going to date Pierre. 

“I told you yesterday that I wouldn’t date Pierre,” you tell Lando, “so that’s still the answer.”

Lando doesn’t react verbally. He pulls you back on top of him and presses kisses against your every inch of your face. Lastly putting his lips on your mouth. Thank god. He realizes that the universe is sending him all the hints he can get about needing to ask you to be his girlfriend instead of friend. He really needs to tell you about his feelings. But how? And when? 

part eight

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[moviecritc]

easiest conversation ⋆ carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!oc (named Angelique)

tropes: strangers to lovers

summary: carlos and angelique sat next to each other in a tennis match in monaco, leading to an endless conversation.

a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes and poor storytelling. maybe a part 2 if you like it?

masterlist

Everybody was focused on Carlos' future in Formula 1, he tried so hard to not be worried about it, but every thing he does, the media somehow made it about his career as a driver. So, at the end, he couldn't do anything except being worried too. Many what ifs were in his mind anytime he thought about it.

The past weekend wete the Masters of Montecarlo, a tennis match, and taking advantage of the fact that he was in the city and most of he's teammates were also watching it, he attended as well.

Carlos didn't have the opportunity to talk to any of them, they were seated in different places in the public. Either way, seeing George, Charles and even Lando with their partners made him feel a little bit more miserable than he already felt. No seat and no girlfriend, that's not a very cool situation to be involved.

And there's even more, he doesn't even know a shit about tennis. He played paddel a few times with Lando, but tennis? He had no idea. So he just sat there, gasping when other people gasp and checking his phone once in a while.

"You seem lost," someone said.

Carlos lifts his head that exact moment, connecting looks with a light brunette that was looking at him above her sunglasses.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, totally confused. Since when that woman was sitting by his side?.

"Yes. You look bored, maybe you just need someone to explain tennis in a cool way," she smiled. A beautiful smile.

Carlos also smiled a bit, in a weird way. Sometimes he forgots that there's people who can effortlesly talk to strangers in a cool and mysterious way. This woman was one of them.

"Yeah, sure. If you can,"

"If I can?" she seemed dramaticly offended. "You don't think a woman can explain tennis to you, man?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I didn't mean it in that way," he said quickly. "Please, go ahead."

She smiled and started explaining all about tennis in the most interesting and funny way possible.

"How do you know so much about tennis?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a tennis player," she explain. "I thought it was obvious."

Carlos noded a bit, noticing a few mobile phones and cameras pointing at them. He didn't realised it until now, and now he was wondering how many pictures and videos of him and that woman would be around the media.

"Uh, well... I mean, I have no idea about tennis," he said, nervously.

"Yeah, I could tell that," she laughed and she infected Carlos with the laughter. "I'm Angelique, by the way."

"Beautiful name. I'm Carlos," they shaked hands with smiles in their faces. He saw some redness on Angelique face after he complimented her. "So you are a tennis player?"

"Yeah." she simply answered.

"Are you good?" Carlos didn't want the conversation to die.

"I try to be," she said. "I'm fifth in the Women's Tennis Association, I don't know if that's enough for you."

Angelique pursed her lips, making a funny face that made Carlos smiled.

"That sounds really good," he said, truly impressed. They were both athletes, maybe that's why it feels so easy to talk to her.

"What about you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm a race driver,"

Angelique raised even more her eyebrows and wide-opened her eyes "Ok, that is so fucking cool!" she remarked. "Which team do you drive for?"

"Ferrari, but..."

"No way! That's even cooler!" she boasted. "I mean, I have no idea about Formula 1. But Ferrari? That is cool guy material, undoubtedly"

Carlos was too invested in Angelique's voice and eyebrow game that wasn't able to tell her that he isn't staying in Ferrari for too long. But they've just met, and being unemployed isn't something to say to someone right off the bat.

He realised that it was the first conversation in a while that he didn't have to mention anything about his future in Formula 1, another reason of him being this comfortable around Angelique.

"And, how did you became a tennis player?" Carlos asked, leaning a little bit to her.

Now, she was focusing on the ball and the movements of the players.

"My brother used to use me as a ball picker when he played tennis, then he broke his arm and I kept his racket," she explained without divert her eyes from the field.

"He stopped playing tennis after that?"

"Well, yes. When he could come back, he was too old and unexperience to achieve something," she said. "But he wasn't very good anyways."

They both laughed and Angelique take off her sunglasses so she could see Carlos better.

"Have you won something in tennis?" he curiously asked.

"Yeah, of course. Matchs and all those things,"

"Have you beaten Serena Williams?" he wondered, with a smirk.

"Not yet," she admited. "But I've won against people who beat Serena."

She smiled proudly. The match was about to end, and none of them were paying attention to it.

"Okey, that's pretty awesome," he said.

She crossed her legs and accomodated her long brown hair to one side, which left Carlos eyeing her in a romantic way.

"And you? How someone decides that he wants to drive really fast cars?"

"My father has been involved in motorsports for a long time,"

"It's always a family thing, don't you think?" she said. "It is hard to find someone who started in sports by themselves."

"It is!" Carlos agreed with her.

He was going to say something else, but they announce the end of the match, everybody standed up to give an applause. Both of them copied the rest of the people.

"Wait, who won?" Carlos asked, totally confused.

Angelique lean into him, whispering "I've no idea,"

They laughed and kept applausing. That was the end of the match and the end of their conversation. Angelique's agent rapidly came to her to take some pictures with the winner.

"Wait, wait," she insisted to her agent and then walked close to Carlos. "It was lovely talking to you, Carlos,"

"Same, Angelique. You seem an interesting person," he complimented. Carlos was willing to ask her for her number, or something.

"Are you coming to the finals tomorrow?" she asked, praying for a yes.

"I don't think so... I have a race soon in China,"

"Oh," she seemed disappointed. "Well, good luck for your race and..."

"Can I asked you for your number?" he said unexpectedly.

"Yes!" she realised that maybe she was too effusive, so she lower her tone. "I mean, yeah, sure. If you want."

Carlos laughed and Angelique did it too, in a more ashamed way. He gave her his phone so she could write her number.

"There you go," she said and her agent was already near her to leave the match. "Text me!"

Carlos laughed and waved at her, when he looked at his phone, he could do anything but laughed again. Angelique saved her as "That cute girl from the tennis match".

He wondered what was about that girl that made her so unique and easy to talk to her. Carlos didn't think about it very much, instead, he texted her right after she left the field.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. 

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it. 

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept. 

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture. 

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past. 

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you.  “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain. 

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control. 

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart. 

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin. 

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you. 

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap. 

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding. 

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook. 

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade. 

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight. 

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t. 

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter. 

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits. 

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice. 

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says. 

Fuck. 

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull. 

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

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[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! - Episode 1 Observations

Who said it during the Bon Vogaye S3 interviews? "We click". Was it Jimin or Jungkook? Either way, it's clearly mutual and and we've heard iterations of that throughout the years in other contexts, particularly in terms of work ethic.

The first night they spent in Connecticut at that cabin in the woods showed us a different facet, in a more domestic realm. The delegation of each role during cooking pointing out what the other one likes, knowing exactly how to prepare something based on a word. It was like a well-oiled machine that has been functioning for ages. It also gave us a taste of what was to come the next evening when Jungkook cooked pasta, an entire scene worthy to dissect.

But what stood out to me more was what happened next. I know we've all joked and talked about poor Jimin and his stomach bug. A very unexpected topic, but here we are. The level of candidness might have felt surprising (at least for me initially), but they are also guys and perhaps coming from a place socially and culturally in which it's not unusual.

But it did contribute to that element of authenticity I mentioned in my first post about the series. I want to digress a bit here because the entire situation reminded me of a conversation I had perhaps more than a decade ago. I was talking to an acquitance about elements that are usually kept out of films, part of the mundane. What is left out of the story due to its lack of relevancy. And he said that scenes of people urinating are common in films, but we don't see/hear people taking a shit, or even talking about it. Yes, the language was that crude. (And no, Salo doesn't count). Shortly after, Godard's Adieu au langage was released and if my memory serves right, it had that exact scene that my acquitance was talking about. I don't think it was a matter of authenticity, the film was a lot more complex than that in its experimentation, but it did go as far as to show somehow the hidden parts of human behavior on screen, now suddenly at a forefront.

What's the purpose of that in a travel show? What does it say about the choice to show it and about the people? In variety content including surviror type, travel or even food show, issues connected to the body are not something foreign or unusual. But in AYS, it's about the length and how it became a way to show the care a person has for the other and consequently becoming another example of that authenticity.

Both Jungkook and Jimin kept a light tone over Jimin's progressive state of sickness, but in no circumstances has Jungkook ever treated it like he needs to keep his distance. The man was sitting in bed, telling Jimin it's alright, while he was fighting for his life in the bathroom.

Despite keeping a light tone, in Jungkook's case it's often about his actions. His own way of showing that he cares more than what appears to. He might laugh and joke that Jimin is dying, all the while being the one to give him the medicine. He keeps on making jokes as he goes outside, only to immediately decide to build a stone temple so Jimin can get better.

I found it all very moving. I know it might also seem trivial, but I choose to see some gestures for what they appear to be a sign of: complete comfortability, with no uneasyness or shame or lack of aknowledgement. It's a result of seeing that person going through everything and knowing that person intimately, at whatever level any of us choose to interpret it.

To be continued...

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “confessions” [←Previous | Next→]

—

It's been weeks. No matter how hard he tries to make up for what he said nothing's changing it's frustrating him so much. Why won't you go back to how you used to be whenever you two hung out? Did his words affect you that much?

Not only that, whenever you two are together your always silent, you always talk about something whether it be about your day, your interests, or anything that comes into your mind, but now whenever you two hang out you barely speak to one another

He hates it. He misses hearing your voice, he misses hearing your laugh, he misses spending time with you like how you used to before

He's tired. He wants to know what's bothering you that much. But he knows you won't say anything.

—

—

Once you reached there you slowly approached Sukuna feeling skeptical, why would he want you here for no explanation whatsoever?

As you stood in front of him you could notice he felt irritated and pissed

"so what do you need?"

"what does Yuji have that I don't?"

"what?"

"how come you hang out with him more than me? You are supposed to hang out with me, not him. He's not your partner for this project i am"

"so how come you spend more time with him instead of me? Not to mention you're always laughing and smiling whenever you two hang out."

After he said that you'd sigh before running your hand through your hair before staring back at him with a obvious scowl on your face

"does it really matter if we don't spend that much time with each other? Like you said we don't have to necessarily befriend each other for this project, it's useless if I end up mistaking our relationship for friends because as you said, you'll just stop talking to me and we'll be back to how we were after this is over"

"so tell me Sukuna, why does it bother you so much that I'm treating you differently than how I used to?"

With that, he just clenched his fist before stepping closer to you

"Isn't it fucking obvious that I like you y/n? Are you this oblivious? I liked you for years, since middle school to be exact, do you really think I'd make such an effort to plan hangouts you like if I hated you? I did all of this just so we could end on good terms so at least I'd have a slight chance to be with you."

"I said all of that stuff back then only because I didn't know how to Express my feelings. I know no matter how hard I'll try you'll never love me back, I know no matter how hard I chase after you, you won't ever look my way."

"I know no matter how hard I fucking try to move on I can't. No matter how hard I try to tell myself I don't like you I know deep down I do."

After he finished his little rant he stepped back before realizing he said more than he should've. Then he looked at you only to see your eyes widening

"you can't be serious right?"

"I am."

"..."

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: short part ik 💥💥🔥‼️ I also realized how I'm almost done with those series should I make another one when I'm finished w denial

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Part two to iv and his jacket of them getting together

Can be a part II to His mark but also can be a standalone.

His to keep

IV mindlessly brushed his fingers over the guitar strings, sitting with his legs crossed in the back of the car you two had rented in one of the longest stops. The days off tour were always spent creating music and for the most part, boys enjoyed doing it away from each other. You had been watching IV for hours. Legs tugged beneath you. His hoodie drowning your body out. You loved it when he was content like that. No harsh features. No need to bite at others. You wished he showed that more often.

Shaking your head slightly you reach out. Pulling the cigarette that has been slowly burning from between his lips. Brushing it against you and taking a deep breath in. IV snaps to you almost immediately. His eyes watching your every movement. But he cools his features down instantly, “That’s not so nice and it’s mine”, IV sighs, shaking his head. “I know, so what?”, you take another drag in, watching him with that same expression. Before he simply rolls his eyes, you can practically see him turning deep into himself. “Lighten up a little, you had a stick up your ass ever since the last concert”, what you failed to mention is that you had seen him and III. More like hear them. And IV had lots to say about what he thought you and III were doing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he mutters, brushing his fingers through the jumble of cords. “Yeah, and I shit butterflies”, you huff, putting the cigarette back against his lips, letting IV take the last drag before pressing it down into the ashtray. “You’re a brat”, he rolls his eyes, as he does for the most time. “And you wouldn’t want it any other way”, you chirp back, nudging his shoulder ever so slightly.

“True”, IV muses beneath his breath, “nothing’s better than you stealing things from me”, and from the way, his eyes gleam when he looks at you, you know that there is so much more hidden beneath these words. So much more than a jacket or pair of socks. “You need to tell me what’s all of this about”, you blurt out, not sure where the sudden confidence came from.

IV clenches his jaw a couple of times, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. You can’t help but shake your head, “You do know and I do too”. The same angry face he had flashed at III washes over him, “Then say it”. And you can’t help but cross your arms over your chest in frustration, “You like me”. IV freezes for a moment. His whole body locks up before he forces a bitter laugh to slip past his lips.

“You do”, you push further, not ready to let him tiptoe any longer, “And you are scared shitlles because you like me”. His eyes practically turn to flames as your words meet the right target, “You don’t know shit”, he grunts through clenched teeth. “III called you a guard dog, you know”, you point out. “I didn’t care what he thinks”, IV grunts, putting his guitar down and hopping out of the car. You quickly push our door open before stepping right in front of him.

“Look at us IV”, you sigh, “I am with you, in your clothes. I practically live in your jacket”, you pull at the matter of his hoodie for emphasis. “Make a move”, you throw your hands up. And at that exact moment, he is right there in front of you. Hands clasping your face as he pulls you closer. Crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. You stand there in shock for a moment, arms falling to your sides as your body drinks in the feeling of him. All the emotions pour out. Once that lingering touches could never soothe. Your hand's fist in his shirt as you two pull him even closer.

“Asshole”, you crock breathlessly, “You should have done that ages ago”. IV leans his head against yours, eyes closed as he mutters, “I felt that in the tips of my toes, fucking hell”. Laughing lightly you reach out to cup his cheek. “Will you be less rough around the guys now?”, you feel him leaning into your touch and then he’s back to frowning, “Hell no, you’re mine”, he huffs, hands reaching out to pull you closer by your waist, “Not my problem they are mopping around single”. “Ivy”, you whine, rolling your eyes. “You’re living in my jacket from now on, girl”, IV brings your chin up so you would be looking straight at him, “I won’t be hearing a peep about it”.

[patrophthia]

red ears, and redder strings | theodore n.

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: red string soulmate!au, fluff, slight humor, slight very slight angst, confused feelings, unrequited love but also not really?, not beta read

wc: 7.2k

this is a request ! thank you anon!! it’s so cute i loved writing this :>

there’s two OC, one of them is named mark, hufflepuff (based off of nct mark, i love that lil canadian guy) and elio. i also wrote theodore based off of nct’s jaehyun and sungchan hehe.

taglist: @mersmoon @pleasingregulus @l--absinthe

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let faith decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guards by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laugh at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impress. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Tug. Tug. Tug. Blaise has been tugging at Theodore's pinky for the last five minutes now. Doing it over and over just to get a rise out of the brunet. But Theodore, quite honestly, couldn't care less as he watched the string tied around his pinky finger bounce with each pull of Zabini's hand.

Blaise, like the menace he is, enjoys bothering his best friend by pulling at the red string of his, but seeing as he couldn't actually see the string, the Slytherin has settled with just laying on Theodore's bed and repeatedly pulling at his pinky which sported the string instead.

"Honestly Nott, why are you so against finding your soulmate? We both know they're in this school so why won't you just make the effort to find them?" Blaise asks, pulling at his pale pinky once more. "Here I am, balls deep into finding mine and I find out that they're all the way in Durmstrang. Do you realise just how lucky you are?"

"Zabini stop," their other dorm mate, Elio, tsked. "Maybe he's just not ready to find them yet."

Blaise turns from his position on Theodore's bed to look at Elio. Retorting, "or maybe he just doesn't want to find them?"

"And that's okay," Elio replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure he has a reason."

Blaise's attention shifts back to Theodore. "And that is?"

Theodore clears his throat, "I just don't want one."

Blaise squints his eyes, "uh huh," he lets out in disbelief. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Okay," he murmurs, "I just don't like the concept of soulmates."

"And that's all to it?" Elio asks, fixing his tie as he listens into Theodore and Blaise's conversation.

"Yes." And when neither Blaise nor Elio seemed to believe him, he added. "And I'm tired of people pretending to be my soulmate despite the fact that I could clearly see they aren't."

"People have done that?" Elio asked, perplexed at the complex.

"For the right price people would do anything." Theodore mumbled, and when he noticed that Elio was heading out the door, he asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting Mark at the library," Elio says with a blissful smile. "I'll see you at dinner."

When Elio finally leaves, Blaise turns to Theodore with a dumbfounded look. "Mark?"

Theodore feels his pinky being pulled once more. "His soulmate."

On the other side of the castle, Mark watches as I throw my head on the table —albeit, dramatically, a groan slipping from my lips. Mark giggles, his nose scrunching along with it as he asks me what was wrong.

I lift my left hand up and into his line of sight, his giggles turning into a full blown laugh as my pinky pulls itself over and over in the same direction. "They're doing it again?"

"They're doing it again," I mumbled, lifting my head back up to look at my finger. "It's so annoying. I'm going to punch their face in the second I see them."

"That's a bit extreme," Mark says lightly. "Just tell them to stop doing it or something."

"Why do that when I can result to violence." I replied, tugging at the string as a sign for them to stop. "They do it all the time, it's so irritating."

"Well at least you know they're close by," Mark states, going back to his book. "Or else you wouldn't be able to even feel their pulls."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I guess that's something."

"What?" Mark asks, sensing a slight shift in the atmosphere. "Do you not want to find them?"

I shrug, "not really."

"Why not?" Mark follows up, abandoning his work completely.

"I just think that I shouldn't let the universe decide on who I spend the rest of my life with, is all," I say. "I want to make that decision myself."

Mark nods, humming, "I see where you're coming from." Understanding as ever. "But I also think it's nice that there's someone out there who will always be by your side no matter what, whether it be platonic or romantic, you know?"

"But that's not guaranteed, is it?" I counter. "I've heard stories where people found their soulmates but they didn't care for one another at all. I mean, at the end of the day, soulmates can't actually be soulmates if one doesn't reciprocate the other's feelings. So why try finding them at all if you're going to find out that they want nothing to do with you?"

"But what if they do," Mark argued.

"But what if they don't."

Mark sighs, "and if they do?"

"And if they don't—"

"Hi." I was cut off. "Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," says Elio, eyes wide and apologetic. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Soulmates actually," Mark says with a smile, his pupils dilating at the sight of Elio. "Why are you here?"

Mark and Elio found out that they were each other's soulmate on the train ride over. Elio couldn't find his friend's carriage on the Hogswart Express and we were lucky enough to have empty space for the Slytherin.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner with me," Elio says. "And I also wanted you to meet my friends."

Who were, if I remembered correctly, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott.

"Oh," Mark glances at me, then back at Elio. "This afternoon?"

"Yeah," Elio nodded. And I sense that he wanted to add 'when else' but held back against it. "At the Slytherin table, Is that okay?"

"Sure," Mark says, nodding quickly. "I'll see you."

Elio breaks into a smile, bidding a goodbye as he turns on his heels. "You're coming with me," Mark says the second Elio was far enough to not overhear us. "No arguments."

Two Hufflepuffs sitting idly chatting with four well known Slytherins must've been a weird sight for anyone that passes by. But Mark was having a fun time and that's all that matters.

Or to me at least. Mark sat to my left, with Elio sitting opposite him. Zabini was on my right, with Malfoy in front of him; leaving Nott right in front of me.

"Are you taking potions?" Zabini asks, trying to make conversation, seeing as Mark and Elio were the only people in this table who actually knew one another.

"Yep," I replied, placing my utensils down. "Are you?"

"The four of us are," Malfoy snickered. "At least there's two more tolerable people in that class with us."

Glad to know Malfoy found Mark and I tolerable. "So . . ." I drew out, thinking of anything we could chat about. "What did you guys do this summer?"

"Blaise dragged us to Europe to find his soulmate," Malfoy answered bitterly.

"Oh." The better part of me was intrigued, wanting to know if he did find them. I turned to Zabini beside me. "Did you find them?"

"No," he says, a slightly disappointed look on his face. "Too many students at Durmstrang and too little time."

"Well there's always next year," I say, trying to encourage him.

Zabini hums in agreement. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

Elio called out my name before I could answer his friend, and when I turned to him, he held out a goblet filled with pumpkin juice for me to take. Reaching for the glass, I felt a tug at my pinkie but paid no heed to it as I took the goblet from Elio's hand. Resting it on the table, my eyes caught onto a twinkle of red glowing right in front of me.

With furrowed brows, my line of sight found its way to the seat opposing mine, and along with it, the person who took the spot. Red string wrapped around his left pinkie, just like mine. Glowing slightly under the candle light.

Realisation settles in as I slowly look up at Nott, taking in his blank wide eyed expression that seemed to be processing the same information as I was.

Just to be sure, my hand reaches upwards to rub at my eyes before my vision falls back once more to my left pinkie, then the red string that connects me to the boy right in front of me.

Theodore Nott was my soulmate.

"Can you pass me the salt?" Malfoy asks Nott from his side, causing the brunet to break out of his trance.

Our eyes met for the briefest second, unspoken understanding warming up within me. And when Nott shifts his attention to where the salt currently resides, the tip of his ears shined as red as the string tethering us to one another.

The Marauders map is a great stalker tool to have. I didn't have it per se, but I knew people who did and they were kind enough to lend it to me when I needed it. I owe Harry a favour for this.

My eyes glance between the footsteps on the map tagged: Theodore Nott, and the corridor in front of me. Trying to be as quiet as I could with each corner I turn, if I were to get caught chasing some guy who seemed to be coming my direction at eleven P.M at night then who knows the kind of punishment I would get.

Theodore was walking with purpose when I found him. He walked with enough purpose for me to need to jog after him just to catch up. A hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him into one of the many secret corridors Hogswart held.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, panting as I watched him decide between fighting or flighting. He seemed to have found me harmless, settling on just gazing down at me instead. "Just give me a second to catch my breath."

There were many things he didn't say, just observing as I tried to calm myself down. I noticed a few things then about him, he was tall, lanky even, his doe eyes and hair the direct contrast of his pale skin, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut through wood.

"Uhm—" I stood up to my full height and found that I had to peer up at him. Freakishly tall motherfucker. "—I'm not going to waste your time by beating around the bush, so I'm just going to spill it."

"Actually I needed to have a word with you," he murmurs. And I have to reel myself over because that must've been the first time I heard him speak.

"Well, I found you first so I speak first," I tell him with a tight lip smile. "You can speak after okay? Okay."

His eyes squinted and I could tell that he was frustrated with not being able to get his words in.

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let fate decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guard by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laughed at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impressed. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Platonic soulmates. That's what Theodore and I decided on. Well not really, Theodore had brought up the idea of cutting our soulmate ties completely with a spell he'd found but the Hufflepuff in me couldn't actually go through with the idea so we decided on platonic soulmates. Or just classmates who are hiding a secret that would blow up in their faces if anyone found out.

Hogsmeade weekend came faster this year; Mark and I (along with four other Slytherins who'd found their way into our friend group) were lucky enough to make the trip.

It hasn't begun snowing yet, although the weather sure felt like it. The temperature was warmer this morning, which was why I found it unnecessary to bring my jacket, and now, in hindsight, I see that that was a terrible idea.

It was getting late, and the weather was not getting warmer at all. "Dude, are you okay?" Mark asks. Dude must sound weird to the other four pure bloods. But dude, to me, was Mark showing that he cared for me. "You've been shivering for the past five minutes."

"I'm fine," I say, a clear lie and we all know it. "I'll just cast a warming spell, don't worry."

Mark's brow furrowed, "are you sure? Here—" he shrugs off his coat, "—just wear mine."

I didn't have to look around to know that the four Slytherin were watching us. And under any other circumstances I would gladly take Mark's jacket, but that was a somewhat intimate thing to do. Especially in front of his soulmate, so, like the civilised person I am, I shook my head and cast a warming spell on myself.

"Dude stop being stubborn, you're literally freezing."

"And I look good doing it so just take your coat, Mark." I argued.

"Okay then." He sighs. "If that's what you want."It's not. Mark pulls his coat back on as he continues walking down the Hogsmeade streets with the rest of us behind him and Elio. "So where should we go next?"

A grasp on my elbow, takes my attention away from Malfoy's answer to Mark's question. I look down, finding slim hands holding onto me. My gaze trails upward to find Theodore who had halted both our steps as he shrugs off his coat.

The brunet nudges it forward, wordlessly offering it for me to take. And when I shook my head, feeling uneasy at the prospect of making him suffer the harsh weather if I did take his jacket. He insists: "It's fine," he says, nudging it forward once more, the red string on his pinkie clear as ever. "I run hot."

"And is cold blooded," Zabini snickered to receive a glare from Nott. I stifled a giggle, finally feeling at ease with the two of them. Zabini's demeanour seems to soften at my half assed attempt to hide a laugh, and tells me to: "Just take it."

Okay. Fine. I will take it. The cold was biting my ass anyways. I reached out for the jacket but was pleasantly surprised when Nott helped me into it instead. "Thank you," I murmured.

Theodore, or at least his coat, smells like a combination of things that I could only assume he likes; things like: the sea, books whether it be old or new, earl grey tea, bearded irises, and vanilla.

Nott only hums at my gratitude, listening back into Mark's conversation with Malfoy.

"You never did tell me whether you found your soulmate yet," Zabini says suddenly. "Have you?"

"No," I answered, and unlike earlier, he actually believes in this lie of mine. "And I'm not really looking for one either."

"Funny," Blaise says with a mischievous smile. "That's what Nott also said." Not exactly, but it was something along that line. "Are you sure you're not each other's soulmate?"

From the corner of my eyes, I spy the tip of Theodore's ears flushing. The pink contrasting his dark features adorably. His face showed no emotion, his brown doe eyes rolling with feign annoyance. "I'm pretty sure I'd know my soulmate if I saw them as often as I see her, Zabini."

"Wish it were that easy," I mumbled, adding onto the illusion of us not being tied to each other.  "I'll let you know when I find out who they are though."

"Really?" He says testingly.

"If you're so invested in it then yes."

He smirks, "let's hope you keep your promise then, princess."

Little did Zabini know, his promise had already been broken.

Faith must've been playing some kind of sick joke. I knew that I'd be taking potions with the four Slytherin, but for me to be studying a love potion on the first day I had class with my 'soulmate' was just plain evil.

And I think, something along the lines of Professor Slughorn making Nott and I be the first to take a gander at the potion, to smell it and to describe what it smelled like to us, was even more cruel.

A glance at Nott, and another at the brewing pot in front of us, had me taking in a deep breath as I prepared myself for what's to come. I took a step forward, Nott to my side, and leaned forward to take a sniff at the potion.

The first round of scents were pleasant, home cooked meals, the smell of my clean room after a tiring day, my favourite snack and the likes of it. Then the second waft of the potion hits and I wondered whether it was what I was actually attracted to or what I was supposed to be attracted to since all I could smell was nothing but Nott.

Or at least the scent of his coat; sea salt, books, vanilla and a hint of his (what I think is) argan oil shampoo, which I assumed I could only smell because he was so close by.

"So?" Professor Slughorn egged us on with a smile. "Tell us what you smell."

Nott and I shared a look and I knew then that we could only smell one another. "The sea," I took the initiative to speak first. "Vanilla."

"Is that all?" Asks the Professor. "Is there a special someone you smell?"

Yes. Is what I didn't say, only shaking my head as I nudged at Nott's side for him to speak next.

"I'm sorry Professor but I couldn't really smell anything." Nott says barely above a whisper.

Professor Slughorn's furrowed his brows in concern. Did Nott not have something he loved? "Nothing at all?"

"Not really," the Slytherin murmurs. "I could only smell her."

Her?

Oh.

Me. I'm her.

Okay.

"Really?" Slughorn murmurs, clearly fascinated. "Well isn't that interesting?"

Nott only hums, moving away from the pot and as I turned with him, my eyes caught onto the pink tinged on his ears. Cute.

I couldn't even take a step towards my desk when Zabini swept me away, Malfoy by his side. Zabini smiles widely at my curious expression, and I wonder for a second if Nott has broken his promise and told them about our secret. Cautiously, I asked him. "What?"

"We need a favour."

"No." Was my first and final answer. Zabini only frowns, not the slightest bit faltering his quest. "I need you to steal Theodore away for a day." He says, instead. I shook my head, repeating myself, "No."

"Oh come on," Blaise pouts, "his birthday's this Sunday and we want to throw him a small surprise party."

"Which won't be a surprise if he was there," Malfoy adds unnecessarily.

"Why can't you be the one to distract him or whatever you're planning on making me do?"

"Because he'll suspect it," Malfoy answers with a roll of his eyes. "Nott's smart, he'll get suspicious of us."

"And he won't get suspicious of me?" I retorted.

"I haven't thought that through actually," Blaise murmurs. "But! We need all hands on deck to plan the party and fill it up with things he likes."

"And I can't help with that?" I ask.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "What do you know about Nott?"

That he is my soulmate. But besides that, quite literally nothing. Okay. One point to Malfoy and Zabini, I guess. I sigh, slowly accepting my defeat. "What about Mark?"

"Mark's going to help us set up with Elio."

"Why can't you ask for the house elves to set it up for you?"

"Why can't you stop asking us questions?" Malfoy snaps.

I turn to the blond, my expression sour. "Hey you're the one asking me for a favour here, I don't think you can afford to be a bitch to me right now."

Malfoy rolls his eyes again, more attitude than ever. "So you're going to do it?"

"I never said—"

"Great!" Blaise cuts me off. "Have Theo out by ten A.M and have him back by six P.M, okay?" He says excited, and yet not loud enough for Nott, who had been sitting three desks away from our conversation to hear. "Okay! And if you guys do anything, please use protection we're way to young to have kids—"

"Oh fuck off." With a chuckle, Zabini finally leaves me alone, dragging Malfoy with him. With the two Slytherins no longer in sight, my eyes drift towards the only empty desk left and make my way towards it.

One, two, table passes, until I finally reach an empty seat and I find myself meeting eyes with Theodore. His face remains stone cold as ever, only looking at me blankly. He didn't have to say it for me to know that was curious about what his friends had said to me.

Setting my stuff down, I sat beside him and I found myself mustering up the courage to go through with Zabini and Malfoy's favour. "Hey," I start, Nott now giving me his undivided attention. "Do you want to go out this weekend?"

His expression changes for the slightest second that if I hadn't been watching him, I'd have missed it. "I thought we agreed on keeping it platonic."

"Yeah," I agreed quickly. "And that's not going to change anytime soon. Think of this as us bonding as platonic soulmates."

He guessed he owed me that, which was why he stood outside of the Hufflepuff's Common Room idly, waiting for me to come out and get on with our soulmates bonding day.

A smile came across my lips when I spotted him, looking as out of place as possible. "Hi," I said, going up to him. Theodore didn't bother replying, only standing tall as he waited for me to lead the way.

The ride to Hogsmeade was awkward —as to be expected from two people who knew little to nothing about one another. Theodore climbed out of the carriage first, offering a hand to help me off of the ride.

Before we began our journey, Theodore caught onto my wrist with his right hand, his left reaching for his wand and wordlessly, he casted a warming up spell on me.

"Thank you." I'd be lying if I said that it didn't have an effect on me. "So where should we go?"

His lips pursed, thinking. "You didn't plan anything?"

"Not really." This favour was a last minute thing, I didn't have time to actually plan things out. "I thought we could just walk around and look at things."

Theodore wasn't the easiest to read, but I knew from the shift in his features that he was judging me. He then nudges his head to the side. "Let's get you something to eat."

Theodore took me to a bakery by the end of Hogsmeade, the shop was heavily vanilla scented, people coming in and out every second. Nott ordered a vanilla danish, then another when he looked at my face.

I ordered my pastries, and reached into my bag for the sickles I needed. Before I could actually get it out though, Theodore was already pulling me to the side, mumbling a "don't bother" as the next customer made their order.

I frown, handing out the few sickles I owed towards him, he took a glance at my hand, then back to my face. "What did I just say?"

"I can't just let you pay for me."

He didn't say anything, but his expression alone suggests that he won't be taking my money anytime soon.

"Seriously, dude, I can't just let you pay for me."

"Let's go," Theodore deflects, taking a parcel filled with our purchases when the shop's clerk handed it out to us.

I followed after him, not before attempting to shove my money into his pockets and failing to do so when he shifted away from me. "You're being rude."

"Oh I'm being rude?" Theodore scoffs, and I think that that must've been the first time I hear real emotions in his voice. "For paying for you?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Paying for someone is only nice when they want you to pay for them."

"Well," he murmurs. "What's so wrong with me paying for you when you want me to pay for you."

"Don't gaslight me!"

Theodore smiles at my word, a small laugh bubbling out of him. "I'm doing no such things." And then, he adds in a mocking manner, "dude."

What an ass.

I led Theodore towards The Three Broomsticks, if he wasn't going to take my money then I'll just have to get him something in return. I ordered two butterbeers as he began unwrapping our pastries.

He handed mine to me and dug into his vanilla danish. A minute passes, the two of us eating in silence and I wondered if I should've just taken him to a movie instead, maybe then it'd be less awkward.

The butter beer arrives and I took a sip, wiping my lips with the back of my hand right after. "You have a little something—" my finger points towards my upper lips "—there."

He made quick work in wiping it off, eyes casting down as he turned his head to pick up a tissue paper. His red ears made a reappearance then, embarrassed as ever.

After we finished our meals, Theodore excuses himself as he heads towards the bathroom. I think then that this was the perfect opportunity; I called out to one of the shop's clerks and when they approached, I asked for the check.

The shop clerk, an elderly lady, frowns, "what are you talking about, love? Your boyfriend already covered it."

What? "I'm sorry, you must've gotten me mixed up with another table, I haven't paid yet."

"No?" She frowns. "The brunet, pale, about ye height—" the woman gestures over her head "—isn't with you?"

With me, yes. Boyfriend, no. "Did he pay?"

"Yes," she smiles, "just a second ago really."

If I could scream out of frustration I would. I glared at Theodore when he returned, he seemed to know what had happened as he walked with pride.

"You're not as smart as you think you are," he says, grabbing his things. "I knew what you were thinking."

"Well." I stood up, gathering my things as well. "What am I thinking right now?"

"What an ass I am." Smart ass.

"Lucky guest." I murmur.

"Is it now?" He replied testingly, taking my things from my hands.

I squint my eyes, looking at him threateningly. "I will destroy you, Theodore Nott."

"I'd like to see you try." The amount of stuff in his hands made him look ridiculous, walking out of the inn with little to no expression at all when he adds: "soulmate."

I returned Theodore to his friends by six, having snuck into the ladies room to send a patronus to Mark before doing so. Not a minute goes by when his patronus returns, a cheetah opening up its mouth to cheerfully say: "Okay dude, We're ready for you!"

I did what was asked of me and brought him to the room of requirements, Theodore trailed after me, clearly confused but never uttering a word about it.

Once we arrived in front of the door, I turn to meet his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me today was your birthday?"

He blinks. "It wasn't important."

"Your birthday isn't important to you?"

"No." He murmurs. "Why are we here?"

I push the door open, and it takes him a few seconds to realise what had happened. Elio jumps out, Mark by his side screaming as loudly as they could "happy birthday!"

Theodore stares at them for a bit before turning to me, "is that why you spent the day with me?" He asks first. "They put you up to this?"

If I heard disappointment in his tone, I didn't let it get to me. Mustering up a small smile, I push him towards his friends. "Enjoy your party, Theo."

Elio and Blaise swept him away, pulling him towards one of the corners where the snacks were placed. My expression must've been telling, of what exactly, I didn't know. But Mark seems to notice it, asking me in a quiet hush. "Are you okay?"

I nod distractedly. "Yup, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Mark frowns, "you look a little off."

I smile at him. Mark knows me better than I knew myself. "I'm fine," I reassured him, "just a little tired."

"Okay," Mark says, leaving it at that with a sceptical look. "Let's get you something to drink."

"Was today just a ruse to get me away from the castle?"

Theodore had found me an hour after we arrived, looking distracted as ever when he handed over a slice of cake he'd saved for me.

"What?"

"You didn't actually want to bond with me, did you?"

I thought over my options, should I lie to him or just let him know the truth. Deciding on the latter, I tell him: "yeah, Zabini and Malfoy asked me to—" the clench in his jaw caught my attention "—wait, are you upset?"

Truthfully, Theodore says, "yes."

To say I was baffled was an understatement. "Why? What's wrong? Do you not like the party?"

"No," he counters. "It's not the party, the party's fine."

A beat passes by, Theodore hesitating. And then, finally, he says. "It's you."

"Me?" Have I done something to upset him? "Did I say something—"

"I thought you wanted to spend the day with me."

"I'm sorry." I'm not sure why exactly I was apologising but it felt like the right thing to do. "But to be fair, you didn't actually want to spend the day with me, did you?"

He avoids my eyes and I knew then that things can no longer be platonic. "I think you should leave before I do something idiotic."

"Like?"

"Kiss you."

How does one respond to that? His ears aren't red this time round. The look on his face is torn between hesitancy and distress. And I was stupid enough to reach up to him, a palm cradling his face, meeting his dark eyes.

A second passes and when he doesn't make to move away, I stand up to the tip of my toes and press my lips onto his. Theodore leans down, easing the strain of my neck as he kisses back without missing a beat.

A bump of the nose causes us to pull back, looking at one another with wide blown eyes before a subtle glow catches our attention. Tied to our pinkies, the string glows red, a shot of spark passing from his end towards mine only for it to lose its light when none comes from my side to ignite it.

What the spark means exactly, I didn't know. But I will not spend another second waiting around to see what it might meant. "That was a mistake," I say quickly, gathering my things. "Goodnight, Theodore."

I didn't know why I didn't notice it at first, but as I walked away, slice of cake in hand; the feel of plastic beneath the cake caught me off guard. I bring it into my eyesight, a vanilla danish neatly wrapped with a note attached to its side.

It seems like you've got me wrapped around your finger. Do me a favour and don't let it linger.

Blaise had a theory. And that theory consists of his two friends who had yet to find their soulmates. Or so they say.

Gathered around the room of requirement were the same people who attended Theodore's birthday party, give or take five people less.

Blaise stands in the middle of the room, the rest of us lounging on the sofa as we watch him speak. "Come here you," he points at Theodore, then he turns to me, "you as well."

My nerves gets the better part of me, causing me to glance at Theodore for help despite knowing that we were both drowning in the same boat. Did Blaise know about us being soulmates? Did Theodore tell him about it? Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him so blindly.

"You two," he says loudly. "Have been lying to us!" And then, a few notches down, he adds, "I think."

My brows furrowed, feigning innocence. "How so?"

Like a magician, he lifts up his hand dramatically, then grabs Theodore's pale hand in it. And in my eyes, the string was as visible as ever. I think I know where he was going with this and there's nothing to prepare me for what's to come next.

"Pay attention to her fingers okay?" Blaise instructs. I feel faint, dizzy, all the adjectives for nauseousness as each second passes by. "Her soulmate pinkie to be exact."

This is it. This is when they find out and Mark hates me for the rest of his life because I didn't tell him I'd found my soulmate.

Mark frowns, his bottom lips caught in his teeth as he watches on sceptically.

Blaise pulls at Theodore's pinkie, the same exact motion he'd done on end for the last couple of months. And, just like it had before, my finger pulls to Theodore's direction. Blaise pulls at it again and the same set of motions repeats itself.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Elio spoke first.

"Well," I began, everyone's attention turning to me. "Because, it's not your fucking business." Mark stifles a laugh at my words. "Theodore and I chose to keep it a secret for a reason."

"And that reason is?" Malfoy chimes in.

I didn't have to say anything for Theodore to know what I wanted them to know. "We didn't want soulmates."

"And now?" Blaise follows up. "Do you still not want soulmates?"

"Honestly?" I say. "I don't know."

It takes Theodore five seconds to note Mark's arrival at the Slytherin table. And it takes him another three seconds to notice that I wasn't there with them.

Mark chats animatedly with Elio, not once pausing to explain my lack of appearance at tonight's dinner.

Maybe they've grown too fond of me, or maybe Blaise likes me more than Theo thought he did, because he was quick to ask Mark where I was. "Doll's, not having dinner with us tonight?"

"No." Mark didn't even bat an eyelash at the pet name Blaise used. "She caught a cold and asked me to bring her something when I get back."

Theodore eyebrow's knit together curiously. "She's not in the infirmary?"

If the people at the table noticed the hint of concern in his voice, they didn't show it. Well —everyone except Mark that is. A gasp falls from his lips, staring at Theodore with wide eyes. Did he fancy his best friend?

Mark catches himself, shaking his head as he explained. "She said that it was just a common cold and that it'll go away soon. She didn't want to waste Madam Pomfrey's time when she could be focusing on something more pressing."

And when Theodore's eyes narrows. Mark feels the need to clarify himself. "Her words, not mine."

Theodore stands up then, excusing himself as he tells Mark not to worry about me and that he'll get something for me to eat. Mark didn't even get a chance to remind him about my meds before he slipped away and into the kitchens.

Mark didn't stress over it though, something in him knew that Theodore would not forget my medications.

A set of knocks lands on my door, approximately fifteen minutes later. And with a groggy "come in" from my bed; the door clicks open, Theodore standing behind it with a tray of food floating behind him.

"Theo?" I rub my eyes, unsure of what I was seeing. "What are you doing here?"

"Mark tells me you're sick." Did he? "So I brought you dinner." That's ... nice of him to do.

Theodore stands awkwardly by the door, not stepping an inch into a room. A part of me wonders if he was a vampire, waiting to be formally invited in before he could actually do anything. "You can come in."

The tray of food floats over first, resting just on top of my bedside table. Theodore follows in after it, staying a few feet away from my bed. "Wait, who let you in? Through the barrels and stuff?"

"No one in particular." He says. "They left the entrance open."

That was the hufflepuff way of doing things.

"Well thank you." My palm lays flat on my bed, pushing all of my body weight to a seating position. "For this. I know you'd rather spend the night doing something more fun than doing Mark a favour."

Theodore frowns, coming over to my side. "Mark didn't ask me to do this," he tells me; his hand carefully reaching for my arm, the other pressing against the small of my back to help me sit up properly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

My attempt to resist teasing him was futile, even sick and on the verge of dying, I still think that Theodore's reaction to things —if there was one that is— was adorable. "Awh, did you miss me?"

Theodore didn't bother to say no. He didn't have to, it was clear by the hesitant look on his face that he did miss me. Even if I'd only just seen him yesterday.

"You should eat," he says instead, the glimpse of his tinging red ears not missed by me when he handed me a glass of water. "Drink this, eat, then take your medications."

A roll of my eyes paired with an 'I know' has him standing straight. And somehow, I get the feeling that he thinks he might've overstepped my boundaries. Not knowing what to say —or do for that matter, I settled on telling him: "thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Theo."

Theodore hums and we could both sense that our conversation was ending, but, strangely enough, despite never knowing what to say in front of him, I can't seem to just let him slip away tonight.

A glance at the tray Theo brought, then another back at him, had me asking a question I might be regretting minutes later. "Have you eaten, Theo?"

His eyes fell down onto my hand, the floor, anything but my face. The corner of his lips twists, a small dent in his cheek barely hiding his attempt to bite back a smile. He knew where I was going with this. "No."

A shift to the side, a pat on the empty seat besides me. "Good." I say first. "We can share."

The string tied to our pinkie glows, and this time, unlike the first, the sparks meets in the middle, igniting brighter than it has ever done before.

Being sick gave me a lot of time to reflect. And even more time for me to realise that me saying 'I don't know' complicates things. Everyone seems to be walking around eggshells when the topic of Theodore and I came up and quite frankly I'm fucking tired of it.

Theodore likes me. We're soulmates. This should be easy. I know how I feel, I can make things work.

Like feels childish. Love feels too strong. Infatuated is what I'm not when it comes to Theodore. I care for him the same way he cares for me. That should say something shouldn't it?

What I recently learned about Theodore is that he takes up an entire table at the library. Just him alone, and the whole table that would usually host four students all because he works in a mess.

"Uhm—" he looks up at me. "—can I sit here?"

He nods and turns back to his book. Not moving a single thing to the side. I sigh, organising his mess to one side and making a mental note to tell him off about it later. But for now, I ought to get my feelings sorted out.

"I wanted to talk to you," I say first. Theo hums, signalling that he was listening to me. "Can you look at me, please?"

He looks up from his page and shoved his book to the side, giving me his full undivided attention.

"I thought about it and I don't want to be platonic soulmates anymore," I tell him.

He looks in thought. "So you came here to say that you want to sever the soulmates connection?"

"No!" I say quickly, eyes wide. "No, not that. At all."

He seems to know what was going to come next, the corner of his lips turning upwards but he stops himself, not wanting to get too excited. "What is it then?"

"I care for you," I tell him. "And if you still care for me, I want to give this soulmate thing a shot."

His eyes soften. "Of course, I still care for you." He replies. "And I'm assuming by care you mean love?"

I pursed my lips, going over what I wanted to say and being careful with how I choose to phrase it. Finally, I decided on: "Not love per se," I say first. "Just us taking a step towards it."

" 'course not," he replies. "Baby steps, right?"

"Right," I say, feeling awkward under his gaze. "Baby steps." And then, I added. "Now if we're going to make this soulmate thing work out we need to actually go out."

He nods. "I'll take you to dinner on Friday then."

"Sure." A smile creeps onto my face. "It's a date." The tip of his ears reddens at my words, cute as ever. "I can't wait to see your cute little butt then."

Theodore fixes me a look between amused and judging, he breaks after a bit, shaking his head with a small chuckle. Incredulously he says, "I can't believe I'm in love with you."

"Woah there dude, you're moving a little fast," I said with a small smile. "Slow it down a bit, will you?"

"Too late, my love." And if I had a small liking towards the guy, my feelings were definitely amplified by his stupidly dumb sense of humour. "I've already gotten your name tattooed on my buttocks."

— from bee: i havent wrote in so long, this was so fun!! i always love writing theo so this was just a blast hehe

notes/reblog/feedbacks are greatly appreciated!!

[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 4.2

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E4: Secret (Section 2 of 2)

[Analysis of the first part of the episode is here. Previous posts in series: S1E1; S1E2; S1E3]

Nick and Charlie have returned to their safe space together, and they understand, to some extent, the newest facet of what they are to each other. On the one hand, the relief of having their safe space reestablished is incredible; on the other hand, the outside world and all its challenges await on the other side of Charlie’s bedroom door. As he prepares to leave, Nick starts to ask a question that makes him visibly uncomfortable, so much so that he can’t even finish voicing it.

Charlie, his tentative, recently repaired smile faltering, knows exactly what Nick is trying to ask. He’s been here before. He responds with an (unfortunately) oft-practiced “yeah, it’s fine,” trying to reassure Nick even as memories of Ben’s secrecy must be plaguing him, and his own desires are shunted to the side.  

The difference here is that Nick clearly knows that what he’s asking is hard for Charlie. His face as Charlie turns to get the umbrella is full of remorse and distaste for the agreement he just exacted from Charlie. When Charlie hands him the umbrella—with just the slightest bit of attitude that recalls the “idiot” conversation from earlier, but nothing like his usual plucky sarcasm—Nick manages to find a way to laugh, though it’s shaky. The relief in that laugh and the gratefulness on his face isn’t just for the umbrella; it’s for Charlie’s understanding of what Nick needs at that moment, for the sacrifice he understands (incompletely, at this point) Charlie is making.

Neither of them is feeling sure-footed yet; both are attempting to figure out what kind of boundaries their altered shared space has and how it impacts their interactions going forward. They’re both trying to understand where touch comes into this scenario, in a semi-public space after Nick has just asked to keep their affection a secret. They both want a more tangible goodbye, a meaningful touch. It’s in Charlie’s toned-down smile and longing “bye,” and it’s in Nick’s aborted wave and slight downward look of regret. But then there’s Nick’s lopsided smile and his little huff of gladness and it’s clear he is also happy that he and Charlie found their way back to each other.

After a moment standing at the door looking dreamily after Nick, Charlie decides that, no, that goodbye was not sufficient after all. That they deserve something more authentic and reassuring to both of them. He rushes out into the rain—sans umbrella! These boys!—and calls after Nick.

Stopping under the incredibly insufficient umbrella, Nick and Charlie exchange hi’s (Charlie’s with a bracing gulp afterward) approximately 10 seconds after their goodbyes. After an initial moment of being happy to see Charlie (again, it’s been 10 seconds and they still want to greet each other), Nick asks if he forgot anything. He knows he didn’t, but Charlie’s brief silence has him worried, despite the fact that Charlie ran through the rain to get to him with a smile on his face. While Charlie glances around, carefully checking that their privacy and therefore Nick’s need for covertness are at least somewhat ensured, Nick gathers himself with a little, slightly panicked swallow. Is Charlie having second thoughts now that Nick has asked him to hide their relationship? Is he about to pull away, step out of their shared space?

But no. When Charlie turns back around, his intent is clear on his face, and Nick looks right down at Charlie’s lips—a silent, respectful request from Charlie and enthusiastic agreement from Nick, all in a second—and Charlie’s able to say with confidence that, yes, in fact, Nick did forget something.

Charlie knows what they both want, so he closes the space between them, holding Nick’s neck and face with one gentle, intentional, calming, claiming hand, watching as Nick’s eyes go once again to his lips in an unspoken language of both entreaty and agreement, and he leans in for a real goodbye kiss, eliminating the previously unsure space between them.

When they pull back, it’s like two magnets pulling apart—it takes force to separate them. Now that they’ve established that this kind of touch belongs in their relationship, parting is harder. To say Nick is stunned is an understatement, and this happy, confident Charlie knows it. He nods decisively—this is the goodbye they deserved—and says "okay" in a way that confirms for both of them that they're on stable ground together again.

And now Nick knows what it’s like to kiss Charlie when the terrain between them is mapped, when their safe space is secured, when he’s sure of Charlie’s affection. There’s joy and giddy euphoria and some disbelief on his face, an overwhelming recognition of the potential scope of this relationship and the completely staggering enormity of the emotions he’s feeling, as he turns back toward home and looks briefly up at the sky. He and Charlie are together.

Arriving at school the next day is a happy affair. Nick’s cheerfulness is so marked that Imogen comments that "something’s different." She attributes it to a hairstyle change, partially as an excuse to touch Nick (without permission), but what she’s really picking up on is that he seems happier and more contented than usual. Nick worries that Imogen knows he’s been kissing a boy. When it’s clear that Imogen suspects nothing, Nick’s carefree attitude returns and he endures the rest of her teasing good-naturedly, smiling to himself when she leaves. After all, he gets to see Charlie next.

Charlie, meanwhile, walks into school so fast he’s about to break into a jog, smiling exuberantly until he reaches the door to their form room. He pauses, taking a moment to gather and calm himself, to dim the smile just a bit, reminding himself that he and Nick are a secret to everyone but themselves.

He can’t tame that smile completely, though, once Nick is in view. Nick is waiting with poorly concealed impatience, looking at the door, sitting with his arms crossed to contain his exploding heart, characteristic lopsided smile in place. A smile that only gets bigger as Charlie gets closer. There’s a moment as Charlie is setting his things down, when Charlie is still trying to contain his own smile, and Nick’s smile falters just a bit in response as he watches Charlie intently, silently, waiting to make sure that things are still where they left them under the umbrella.

But when Charlie sits and looks at Nick, and his enthusiastic “hi” is out in the universe, Nick is comforted and reassured by the familiarity of their affectionate greeting. His “hi” is quiet, but filled with relief and satisfaction and simple gladness that Charlie is sitting next to him again; there’s even a deep breath followed by a small sigh of contented settledness. Charlie is nearly giddy with happiness, possibly recalling the way he felt the first time he sat down next to Nick months ago. Back then, the space between them was unknown and blank. Now that space is a sanctuary that, in public, conceals and protects their new private closeness. The familiar, comforting routines of friendship blend with the sparkling newness of their deeper relationship, setting that space between them aglow.

We next see a moderately concerned and suspicious Mr. Ajayi informing Charlie that there’s a “boy” waiting for him in the art room, giving Charlie a chance to let him know if this is a situation Charlie is not on board with (Mr. Ajayi, you saintly soul). But Charlie happily, even perhaps a little proudly (he is Charlie, after all, so this is muted) tells Mr. Ajayi that he’s meeting a rugby boy (code for straight boy crush). So Mr. Ajayi leaves Charlie and Nick with his tacit approval, and Charlie strides confidently into the art room, where Nick is sitting with the same barely contained eagerness he displayed in form. Now, however, they’re alone, and Nick can be true and honest; he can say “I missed you” with complete sincerity and unabashed enthusiasm.

Charlie, typically, responds with a bit of sarcasm, unable to fully accept the implication of Nick’s statement—that he likes Charlie enough to want to be with him, pretty much all the time, and that those four hours felt interminable. Nick has seen Charlie deflect positive attention enough times not to take this too personally (though we have to think he wishes that Charlie was able to verbally return or validate his feelings at least a little bit). Not only does Nick not take offense to this teasing, he then checks in with Charlie about his friends and whether spending time with Nick would upset them; he doesn’t want this hiding to cost Charlie more than it already is. Nick's also subtly confirming that Charlie would in fact rather be having lunch with Nick than with his friends. Charlie makes a bit light of this too, but he’s still reassuring Nick in his own way that this was a decision Charlie made willingly. Then, to make it all quite clear, Charlie reaches for Nick’s hand under the table, instigating the first intentional touch since their parting under the umbrella. It’s hidden from view—Charlie’s respecting Nick’s request, and honoring their understanding safe space, while still making grounding and affectionate contact. Nick returns the affection by swiping his thumb over Charlie’s fingers, confirmation that the touch is wanted and the meaning behind it understood.

With this reminder of the safe emotional space they have between them, Nick confesses (again) that he’s glad to be away from his usual friend group. That they’re nothing like Charlie. Yet again, Nick is offering Charlie proof that he admires and values the things in Charlie that make him different, proof that he’s choosing Charlie. (Note that there’s no concern over Nick’s friends missing him; it’s not even expected by Nick himself.)  Charlie clearly doesn’t even know how to respond to this, indeed can barely believe it or internalize it, but it’s good for him to hear nonetheless.

They continue to hold hands throughout their conversation, keeping that line of emotional connection firmly in place, bridging the physical space that the public nature of the school day forced on them. It has to be noted that this moment is different from Charlie’s meetings with Ben in almost every way that matters. There’s no skulking, no leaning against walls in dark corners, little, if any, real secrecy (open doors, Mr. Ajayi knows, anyone could theoretically come to the art block at any time), just a semblance of privacy. The room is bright and light, positive and filled with color. Charlie clearly chose the location and arranged the meeting, giving him more agency than he ever had with Ben. This is a safe and welcoming place for Charlie. Charlie’s comfort here is obvious, and his affection and respect for Mr. Ajayi make it clear to Nick that this is a safe space for him, too (despite Mr. Ajayi’s initial ‘evils’). With the comforting physical touch of the handhold and the knowledge of safety in both the actual space of the art room but also the safe space he’s built with Nick, Charlie speaks aloud about the bullying he experienced, which then leads, with a noted drop in mood, to talk of Ben and his "making" Charlie keep them a secret.

Charlie immediately realizes from the crestfallen look on Nick’s face, the slight additional slump to his shoulders, the breaking of eye contact, that Nick is reading more into Charlie’s comment than Charlie meant by it. Nick’s guilt over asking for secrecy is plain on his face, and the idea that he might be causing Charlie even a fraction of the pain Ben caused him is horrifying to Nick. It makes him feel like he’s tainting that trusted space between them, and he withdraws inward briefly. Charlie reaches out with his other hand and grasps Nick’s—which seems to have loosened a bit—in both of his, drawing Nick closer to himself, intentionally pulling Nick back into that safe space, making sure Nick is listening to him. Charlie tries to reassure Nick, both with this touch and with his words. As Nick’s fingers tighten slightly around Charlie’s hand in acknowledgment, Charlie states emphatically that their situation is different, that Nick is nothing like Ben.

In most ways this is true, and Nick tries to rally, but clearly, neither of them has managed to convince the other, or themselves, that the nature of their relationship is, in fact, completely different. Nick's responding "yeah" is stilted and unconvincing, but still he leans forward and, presumably, returns Charlie’s double handhold. Even if his own guilt is gnawing at him, and he still suspects he's harming Charlie in some way, he’s trying to stay connected and keep that space between them intact. Charlie’s subdued smile tells us he knows Nick doesn’t completely believe his own “yeah,” and that Charlie knows there’s little else he can say to improve the situation in the moment. He’s made sure that Nick knows Charlie still wants him there with him, and that they can take the time and space they need to figure out their new dynamic—how to be in the world—together.

---

The next space they have to navigate together is rugby, which has always held its challenges but now introduces an uncomfortable element of conflicting loyalties for Nick and added guilt for Charlie. Charlie’s been moved from reserve to active player for an upcoming match and struggles to work up the nerve to tackle other players in practice. This earns the ire and frustration of his teammates, who feel Charlie is letting them down. Nick has to walk a fine line between concern for Charlie, guilt at the knowledge that Charlie is going through this at least in part because Nick asked him to join the team in the first place, and some real sympathy with his teammates for their frustrations. At the end of practice, Nick walks back to the changing rooms with some of the lads, leaving Charlie lagging behind, and the space between them expands, becoming thin and brittle under the pressures of this environment. Charlie, likely feeling guilt about his performance and worried that Nick is more upset with him than he is in reality—again, Ben’s conditioning of Charlie to make him feel not only pathetic but complicit in his own humiliation asserts itself—internalizes the team’s (and Nick’s) frustrations and tries to work them out by practicing more. . . alone.

As Charlie and Nick jog around the track before the match, they’re ahead of the pack slightly and by themselves—apart, but not alone, as they often are—and there’s a socially acceptable bit of space between them as they talk. All of Charlie’s friends are supporting him, and while Charlie can’t seem to understand why his friends would choose to spend their time in this way—"I told them they didn’t have to, but Elle said they wanted to be supportive”—Nick is both pleased for Charlie and perhaps wondering if any of his mates would support him in the same way. But Charlie doesn’t recognize this, and instead interprets Nick’s slightly brusque response as concern about Charlie’s friends seeing them together and learning the secret truth. Charlie rushes to reassure Nick that he won’t tell his friends about their relationship, and Nick, who had not been thinking along those lines at all, responds with a brief head shake and gruff, offhand “yeah, good, thanks.” Nick then tries to check in with Charlie, to see how this is affecting him, asking “you sure it’s okay?” To which Charlie responds, almost automatically, “Yeah. Of course.” Nick frowns, once again not fully believing Charlie or at least continuing to feel badly about the situation. But before this (very needed) conversation can continue, Harry forcefully interrupts, as he is wont to do.

When Charlie sees his friends arrive, he gets out from under Harry’s grip and gives Nick a little (again, socially acceptable, rugby-laddish) back-of-the-hand tap to his upper arm to get his attention and let Nick know that Charlie is parting ways with the group. Nick stands for a while, indecisive, as the rugby lads peel off in one direction, and Charlie to his friends in the other, leaving Nick briefly (but sadly, not unusually) alone. Nick watches from behind a literal physical barrier, cut off from Charlie, as Charlie affectionately greets his friends, as Darcy blatantly asks Charlie about his relationship with Nick, and as Charlie struggles to hide the nature of that relationship from his friends with blatant and painfully delivered lies.

Charlie looks over at Nick and sees him frowning, then immediately checks in with Darcy to see if there are rumors circulating, the need to protect Nick and keep the secret always at the forefront of his mind. Charlie’s shoulders are pulled up, his hands tug at his shirt sleeves, and he generally gives off an air of intense discomfort as he has to deceive his friends with Nick nearby, looking morose and, from Charlie’s point of view, upset about how the conversation is proceeding. Nick is so focused on this interaction, on his position as an outsider looking in, on Charlie’s obvious unhappiness, that when his own friends walk by and greet him, he spares them only a brief wave and barely a smile, before turning his attention back to Charlie again. The whole situation is clearly chafing hard, and Nick is beginning to recognize that not only does it make Charlie unhappy and put strain on Charlie’s deeply important friendships, it makes Nick discontented as well. This is a moment when the space they have between them is involuntary, when it is required by secrecy and circumstance, and it no longer feels good or right; its shape is distorted and unfamiliar.

Once again, Nick and Charlie are standing together and apart from their teammates as they watch the opposing team file out onto the pitch. Charlie takes a completely warranted nervous step back and bumps Nick’s arm with his elbow, an unintentional touch from which he almost immediately recoils. It’s a touch that would look completely accidental from an outside perspective, but that represents, to Charlie, everything he thinks he’s not supposed to do and feel around Nick in public and even, to an extent, in private. His desire for comfort, closeness, and reassurance are all things he’s been taught he doesn’t deserve and shouldn’t want, and the rule of secrecy only compounds those suppressive feelings for Charlie. Nick is clearly a bit surprised and regretful that Charlie feels the need to apologize at all, but there’s no time for him to respond now.

Nick now has to navigate one of the most challenging instances yet of trying to walk the ever-thinner line between his rugby lad persona and the person he wants to be with Charlie. The space between Nick and Charlie is fully public right now, and in one of the least hospitable places it could be. All interaction between them here would be heavily scrutinized within a very narrow framework of accepted demonstrations of masculinity. So Nick, who is keenly aware of this in a much more visceral and personal way than he was before, is trying desperately to captain his team to victory (which requires equal attention to each of his teammates), keep an extra attentive eye on Charlie without appearing to do so, and manage lingering feelings of guilt about his culpability in Charlie’s pain during the game, all while a running loop of concern about how all his actions appear to everyone else—and to Charlie, who still often misinterprets Nick’s intentions—is running through his head. He doesn't quite manage to achieve all of these things.

At various points in the match we see Charlie’s concern for Nick—quiet, but visibly there. We also see Nick’s concern for Charlie, sometimes more vocal (certainly more vocal than with any other teammate) but always from a (necessary) distance, and often followed by self-suppressive facial expressions or body language. Charlie especially feels this distance, the stretching of the safe space between them and the lack of intentional, reassuring touch to ground him. He feels disconnected from this version of Nick who must be so many different things to so many different people. And while he feels this painful divide, he also knows that Nick has a lot of responsibilities outside of their relationship; he’s conscious of the secret they’re keeping and what kind of behavior Nick can display within that boundary; he’s aware, as Charlie always is, of their surroundings and how not only does he have to be a chameleon and become what he’s expected to be in this space, but now, because of their relationship, so too does Nick. While this act of blending in protects the space between them from the outside world, it also hides Nick and Charlie from each other; they can’t see each other clearly through the masks they’re both wearing. On top of and because of all of this, Charlie is harboring intense feelings of guilt for even wanting or expecting any kind of closeness at all with Nick in this scenario. His feelings that he’s not worth all the trouble Nick is going through intensify, and his spiral of self-blame and guilt continues.

---

When Charlie is tackled to the ground for the second time and injured enough not to get back up immediately, Nick is involuntarily, forcibly rooted to that line he walks. Charlie is hurting, and Nick feels trapped by his conflicted feelings about how he should act around Charlie in this arena, his own request for secrecy, and his misplaced guilt around Charlie’s injury. He wants to reinstate and enter the safe space between them, wants to reassure himself that Charlie is okay and to care for Charlie, but is held in place by the potential negative perception their audience would have of that kind of action.

These separate and equally misplaced guilt spirals continue when Nick visits Charlie in the infirmary after the match is cancelled. Charlie is happy to see Nick but almost entirely self-restrained, completely still, while Nick pauses in the doorway, already looking a bit chagrined and waiting for Charlie’s acknowledgment. Their exchanged “hey” is muted, with none of the usual enthusiasm, but Nick enters the room fully after Charlie greets him in return. Yet again, they’re having to reestablish the boundaries of their safe space, but now they’re doing it blindly, unaware of the silos of guilt they’ve each been in, with an incomplete understanding of the ways they’ve each been stretched thin by the pressures of not just the match but all the limits they’ve put on themselves; they only know that something isn’t right.

Nick scans Charlie’s body a couple of times, looking for additional injuries, asking Charlie if his nose is okay. When Charlie says he doesn’t know, Nick’s hands clench briefly before he carefully sits very close to Charlie on the infirmary table, intentionally allowing their legs to touch, showing Charlie that he wants to be near him in this way, that he wants the closeness back, that he cares more than he felt he was able to show on the pitch. Charlie, meanwhile, sits nearly completely still, hands clenched together in his lap; he wants that care and affection from Nick so badly, but he doesn’t believe he should want it, or that he deserves it, so he keeps his hands—and everything else—to himself.

When Nick has inspected Charlie’s nose and said, with relief, that he thinks it looks fine, he looks for another way to keep showing Charlie care and affection, another way to bridge the divide that has grown between them. Even though both boys are quite literally covered in mud, Nick tells Charlie, with a tiny huff of laughter, that he has mud on his face. Charlie returns the tiny laugh, as they both try to edge back to a place of ease together. As Nick wipes the mud off Charlie’s face—something Charlie could have done on his own but which Nick clearly chooses to do himself—he swallows repeatedly, opening and closing his mouth like there’s more he wants to say (or do). Leaves float around them, and the same pink glow surrounds them as during Charlie’s daydream about Nick declaring his eternal devotion. Nick is clearly feeling some of the things Charlie had hoped he would a few months ago, and for a just a little while, Charlie watches Nick’s eyes and enjoys this moment of tenderness. The physical space between them has closed, and they’re close, possibly, to entering their safe emotional space together as well.

But then when Nick is finished wiping Charlie’s face and his hand drops, the mesmerizing and comforting touch removed, Charlie’s compulsive guilt reasserts itself. He looks away, and down, breaking eye contact as he apologizes. Nick, clearly completely confused and thrown, says “What?,” frowning and looking intently at Charlie’s face. Charlie looks back, and as he begins to list all the ways he thinks he’s “messed up,” he rubs his hands together, repeatedly pinching his own palm, sinking into himself as he calls himself clingy and annoying.

Nick can’t understand how Charlie could think this—looking back at the day with any kind of objectivity shows a restrained, audience-conscious Charlie who did nothing to earn either of those adjectives. When he continues, “I’m making this so awkward,” Nick looks away, down at his own hands, frowning as Charlie continues “You wanted to keep us a secret and I’m messing it up.” Charlie is trying desperately to comply, to remain within the boundaries of their relationship as he perceives them, with all of his warped self-perception and negative expectations of Nick’s reactions based on Ben’s abusive treatment. He’s cracking under the self-imposed pressure, and the guilt comes flooding out. Nick, on the other hand, feels fully responsible for what happened to Charlie during the match, guilty that he didn’t help more both during the match itself and the practices that preceded it, and is now reminded again that his request for secrecy is causing Charlie distress.

Nick looks up toward the ceiling, just as he did after the kiss in Charlie’s room, preparing himself to say what’s on his mind, what he knows Charlie needs to hear. He shakes his head a little, at Charlie’s words and at himself. Charlie looks increasingly concerned at this gesture, steeling himself, but then Nick says “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” There’s direct, sustained eye contact, a short, sharp sigh—this is intentional Nick—and extreme sincerity. It’s enough to at least get Charlie’s attention; there’s a blink and just the slightest hitch to his shoulders, a brief rising above his own thoughts, as he waits for Nick to say whatever else he needs to say.

Then Isaac walks in and the moment is broken. Nick is reminded immediately that it could have been anyone—a teammate, a coach, a medic—and though he’s clearly uncomfortable and shifts his body so it’s not turned toward Charlie anymore, he doesn’t actually get up. He decides to stay next to Charlie. As Isaac does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he knows exactly what’s going on between Nick and Charlie, both boys’ discomfort increases—Nick’s out of a toxic mixture of fear, confusion, and lingering guilt, and Charlie’s from watching Nick withdraw and believing that his self-accusations have been proven true; someone outside of their safe space now knows the secret, and to Charlie, it’s his fault.

As soon as Isaac leaves, Nick gets up with a marked throat clearing, saying he’d “better” go, followed by a gulp-filled pause. The outside world has intruded on their shared space again, and Nick’s reminded that his absence from the rest of the team might be noticed. Half of him worries about that, while the other half feels guilty for caring what they think at all and how that caring in turn affects Charlie. Charlie assures Nick that Isaac won’t say anything—half of him wanting to reassure Nick, the other half feeling guilty that Nick needs reassurance in the first place. Nick gives a gruff “yeah . . . okay” in response, and with a conflicted, self-focused frown and look down, he hurriedly leaves without a goodbye. Charlie caves inward; in some ways, this went exactly the way he thought it would.

They're back in their silos.

[If you'd like more infirmary scene analysis, I recommend @stopper-my-heart's post here.]

[junkissed]

soooo I can't stop thinking about ocean's view 😭 like I loved it sm 🥹 can you spare some thoughts.. about what happened after 👁️ I hope they didn't live very far away from each other 😭 also wtf jun is so romantic for saying he imagined himself with you at the altar like wtf boy do you want me on the floor for you and your cuteness 😭

yes ofc!! so it's implied that they're from the same city because they're at the same wedding so it would make sense that they both live close to the bride & groom, and therefore close to each other. probably nearby but not too close, and because reader doesn't go to many parties it would make sense they haven't seen each other before even though they share mutual friends. i imagined it as opposite sides of the same town so they're probably like 15 to 30 minutes apart at most :) so still pretty close and they will definitely get together officially once they get back home! i had a couple extra scenes planned at the end (that i didn't end up writing because i didn't have the energy and i just really wanted to get the fic done lol) so i'll put it in bullet points under the cut :)

member — junhui x reader word count — 0.9k warnings — fluff, bullet points, slightly suggestive but no details read the original fic: "ocean view" here! this is a continuation of the story so it won't make sense if you haven't read the fic so go do that first lol

jun sits at your table for the whole reception and you have really great conversations getting to know each other

at some point joshua comes around asking if anyone has seen where he's supposed to sit because he can't find his name tag. jun points him towards his old seat and slips joshua's name card into his pocket when he's not looking, so they did successfully switch and no one found out lol

there's eating, dancing, more secret kissing in the corner once it gets dark and no one can see them

but it gets late, so you and jun decide it's time to part ways. and obviously this time you make sure to exchange phone numbers and info before you leave because there's no way you're throwing away this opportunity twice in a row

you tell jun you'd love to spend the night with him again, but that you have to leave for your flight tonight. jun laughs and says it wouldn't have worked anyway; his flight is also tonight, and he suggests that you carpool. you still don't know that you're from the same city, so you assume he's just joking and you give him another kiss (a very passionate one that almost makes you rethink turning down the carpool offer) but then you both go back to your hotels to pack.

you get to the airport that night and you've just gotten through security and you're walking around looking for your gate and guess who you bump into? and he not only happens to be headed to the same city as you, but he's also on the same airline, the exact same flight at the exact same time!

you sit in the waiting area together and laugh about fate and coincidences, and you're starting to believe what the tarot lady said because the circumstances are too perfect and everything is working out a little too perfectly

you keep chatting until the plane starts boarding, and you get called up to board first so you assume this is (finally) where you say goodbye. you wave and give him a hug and promise to meet up again once the plane lands

you're settled in your seat, pulling out your phone to text him and see where he's sitting, when you hear a voice beside you and you look up and there he is again

he makes a joke about how you just can't seem to get rid of him, and you tell him that you wouldn't want to get rid of him even if you tried, because you already did try and you're glad that the universe had other plans

turns out you're not just on the same flight but your seats are also right next to each other, so there's no need to bribe anyone to switch this time hehe

it's a long flight but it passes by quickly because you have such good company :) lots more talking and getting to know each other

maybe towards the end of the flight he starts to get a little handsy, because he's wanted you so bad ever since he saw you again at the wedding but he was trying to be polite and all that tense sexual energy is finally getting to him

but you manage to hold off until you make it off the plane, and since your house isn't too far out of his way anyway you do decide to actually carpool home

now it's your turn for payback and you're teasing him the whole time he's driving

then you finally arrive at your house and you can't keep your hands off of each other any longer so he decides to spend the night... and you can imagine the rest

you ignore a whole bunch of texts from jeonghan who is demanding to know all the details because he saw you leaving the wedding with jun and you had the biggest smile on your face and he needs to know whether you reconnected with your mystery man or not

another fun detail that i wanted to add but didn't end up writing: for the bachelorette party the night before the wedding, they hired a stripper named hoshi and he was wearing a tiger print thong giving everyone lap dances

i won't be writing a sequel to this fic since this is basically all that i had planned and i've already put it into bullet points, but i hope you liked this little extra snippet!! i always love sharing stuff that didn't make it into the final fic so always feel free to send asks like this <3

no taglist since this isn't really a fic, but you can always join my permanent taglist here!

[hadesoftheladies]

“that’s just war” is what i keep getting told. women get raped and butchered? that’s just war. children get bombed and buried? that’s just war. when i read stories of the hamas hostages and the frustration and pain of jewish families caught up in the war, what do online politics offer? “that’s just war.” that’s just the price of resistance. when i tell my dad while watching the news on palestine “thousands more children were bombed by israeli forces this week” all he can say is “that’s just war.” if a man pointed a gun at you wouldn’t you want to have a gun, too?

were the allied soldiers better than the nazis? depends on who you ask. they bombed, raped, sabotaged the planes of women in their own army. nazis were terrible. did that make allied soldiers saints? we weep for the mass graves in 20th century concentration camps across the world. then when we grow up we learn that those black and white photos were actually grey all along. the victims had also victimized others. male prisoners could rape as the soldiers did.

“ignore war men will be men” some women say. “they’ll find a way to keep killing each other. let them have at it.” is it feminist action to bask in our own self righteousness as women? do people sleeping while sirens go off in their city have any choice other than to wake up and run? can they ignore such a thing?

where should i stand? will the white women online help me if their president ordered a siege of my country? my country’s history is riddled with blood. the resistance gave me freedom. I can walk on my own land. go to school and own a car. I can dress myself without dressing a white mistress first. I can farm for myself and not for some smelly englishman. that’s good, isn’t it? but they also killed scores of setttlers, the resistance. they raped white women and girls. slaughtered white children and dumped their bodies in pits for their husbands and fathers to find. wasn’t that bad? but wasn’t it the black kikuyu children and women that bent their backs over white fields? wasn’t it the white people who put them in camps and exacted harsh curfews. didn’t white men shove broken glass up black detainee’s private parts? which white women came to free them? didn’t they laugh at the same racist jokes as their husbands did? didn’t she smile and pour tea for him as he told her about work? didn’t she love having such a wide sprawling estate? wasn’t that bad?

“so you stand with the evil black men that raped white women just because they could? you think their rape served a purpose?” no, but— “so you stand with white women who were okay ordering your people to be shipped, slaughtered and starved?” no! these questions are like asking me which bullet i’d prefer to be shot with. the answer is i don’t want to die. i am not comforted by the rape of women or by the enslavement of my people. why would either be something i want?

what this all is, ultimately, is a question the entitled never like to hear. in regard to the oppression of women by men, blacks by whites, the indigenous by the colonial, the one question at the heart of it all is this:

who has the right to self defense?

why is the woman that killed her rapist jailed? why is the slave that killed his master himself killed? by what means and to what extent do we rule an act of violence as self-defense or something monstrous?

the answer is even more uncomfortable: to the extent that we view the aggressor as human.

it’s not an answer that really solves anything. it doesn’t change what happens in war. it won’t stop any war.

but in these scenarios, my way has been to accept that there is rarely such a thing as moral purity in a human, and for this reason, our default attitude may need to be humility, the acceptance that we can be hypocrites. that we aren’t exempt from tragedy or more special than another life. that we’re as alike as we are different, even if we may not be equally guilty of certain acts. because if we are open to the humanity and dignity of the life of others (and I do extend this to animals as well, because they have the capacity to suffer and the will to live), we are bound to be less prone to repeat the cruelties we decry.

and maybe that’s more of a solution than a neat, easy answer or a casual dismissal like “that’s just war” might be.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Promise

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda takes Pernille to dinner

The restaurant is fancier than the restaurants that Momma and Morsa usually take you to.

Evidently, Momma thinks so too because she holds your hand a little tighter and pulls you in front of her.

"Magda," Momma says," Are you sure this is the right place?" She looks down meaningfully at you.

The usual restaurants you go to aren't fancy like this. They're homey places, much more likely to be family-run for years rather than being awarded Michelin stars.

"Yep," Magda says as the host takes them towards a private booth at the back.

You're big enough now that you don't need to sit in a high chair anymore but Magda and Pernille still box you between them in the booth, sitting so you're in the middle and they're facing each other.

"This is expensive, Magda," Pernille warns.

"We can afford it."

"I know but, still."

"It'll be fine," Magda assures her," I promise."

This whole trip was out of the blue.

They had just come home from training when Magda sent Pernille off to the bedroom to change into something fancier than the usual tracksuit bottoms and old shirt she usually wore post training.

There was already something laid out on the bed and, by the time Pernille was finished, you and Magda had also changed. Tomorrow was a day off so it wasn't out of the ordinary for you all to go out the night before but not in fancy clothes and not to this fancy restaurant that looks like a little girl like you shouldn't be in it.

"Is there a kid's menu?" Pernille asks.

You frown. "I want a big girl meal."

Magda laughs, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. "I've ordered ahead for her."

Pernille raises a brow. "How did you even get a reservation for this place?"

"Millie knows a guy."

"You make it sound like she's in the mob."

"She could be."

"What's the mob?" You ask.

"Nothing, princesse," Magda laughs," Here. The nice host lady brought you some paper and crayons."

You grab the crayons quickly, scrawling over the paper with reckless abandon.

"I'm serious, Magda. What's going on?"

"Can't I take my girls out for a special evening?"

"You can," Pernille says, eyes narrowed in suspicion," But at a place like this? You're up to something."

Despite her suspicions, Pernille does end up having a nice time. The food is good, the wine is great. The company is, obviously, even better.

You seem to be having fun too, going through all of the crayons as you draw a picture of the three of you standing under a rainbow together.

The dress you're wearing, now that Pernille inspects it, is a perfect match to her own, right down to how it's styled on your body. Both of them compliment the ensemble that Magda's wearing, Pernille notices as Magda rises from her seat to take you to the bathroom.

You look like a perfect pair.

Pernille can see a lot of Magda in you, all the way down to the way you walk. You've got Magda in your face and your smile and the way you giggle hysterically when Pernille tickles your tummy.

You return after a few minutes without Magda, reaching out for Pernille's hand with the same secret smile on your face that Magda has when she's about to do something surprising.

"Where's your Morsa?" Pernille teases, allowing you to pull her up.

"She's outside," You say," She paid earlier. Come on, Momma!" You pull at her insistently. Clearly, Pernille isn't moving fast enough.

You pull her out of the restaurant and across the road to the play park.

Magda's waiting by the gate and you stop in front of her. You turn to look at Pernille.

You smile at her, the exact same as Magda's smile, before squeezing her as tight as you can.

Magda picks you up and you cover something with your hands.

"What have you two planned?" Pernille teases, her own smile ghosting her lips.

"Pernille," Magda says," I love you."

"I love you too."

"I understand that this moving in together thing is still new-"

"We've been moved in for a year?"

"I have a speech," Magda laughs," Can you let me get through it?"

Pernille laughs too. "Alright. I suppose so."

Magda clears her throat. "As I was saying...I understand that this moving in together thing is still new and I know that there's going to be a few hiccups along the way but I love you and I love Princesse and I love this little family we've made. I know we want a future together. Honestly...I...This came out of nowhere and I know we're still in the height of our careers but..."

She nudges you.

"Please agree to be engaged to be engaged to Morsa!" You say, holding out the little ring you've been hiding in your hands.

It's a fairly simple ring, clearly not a proper engagement ring but it's still beautiful. Pernille takes it from your hands, slipping it onto her finger.

"Yes," She says," I will be engaged to be engaged to your Morsa."

You cheer, a beautiful round of bubbly giggles spilling from your throat as Momma pulls Morsa into a kiss.

Morsa's cheeks are all pink when she pulls away and she's got one of those silly star struck smiles on her face that she gets when Momma is around her.

"Can we get ice cream now?" You ask and they both laugh.

"Yes, Princesse," Morsa says," Let's get ice cream."

[hotchfiles]

hiii !! i’m here to req no. 14 from the prompt list + james ( literally bc i can just imagine sirius telling them to kiss and make up ) 💘💘

send me one of my boys + a prompt

james + reader ⋆ "can you both just kiss and make up-" both of them: "SIRIUS"

There were things everyone in Hogwarts knew. Some of them where: You and James were extremely competitive, the sorest of losers, partners in crime? Yes, but stubborn from the biggest to the smallest bone you both had. Having you both playing for the quidditch team was a blessing for Gryffindor. And also a curse. A blessing because it meant the red and golden lions had never won so many matches in a row. A curse because you were both insufferable during quidditch practice and even worse than that, sharing dorms and common areas with the both of you after a losing match? Hell. Literally.

"Told'ya that stupid strategy wouldn't work," James' hands go through his hair, exasperated by the terrible beating Slytherin had done to the team's score, and to his self esteem. "But nooo, you're always miss right." His face twisting in a mocking expression. "Didn't work 'cause you didn't do your bloody part, Potter." You're just as frustrated, arms flailing around, the game ended hours ago, this is the fourth or fifth time you both are discussing this exact same point. The common room getting emptier and emptier each time, leaving only you both, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily, as your friends they were morally compelled to stay and keep you both from each other's throats. Both your wands already perfectly secure in Remus' pockets to avoid any disappearance of brows or cutting of hair. Exhausting really, dealing with you two was becoming exhausting, especially because you were both very easy going people with everyone else. James was a charmer, you were always a delight. It was fascinating how irritating both of you became in situations like these, how easy it was to get you both riled up because of the other. So it clicked to everyone, but you two, apparently, that you simply had feelings for each other. None of you knew how to react upon those, so you bottled it up and when James made something stupid it got you so mad because the feelings you had for him were all intense, all or nothing, no middle ground. And it was the same for him. Best friends who had so much in common and loved doing most of it together, who made each other laugh, and helped each other when things got bad. And then suddenly, a screaming match. Quidditch strategies, blaming each other for some prank, arguing about the right answer to a test, it was the stupid way you two found to actually feel and deal with the strength of your emotions. Lily and Remus leave while the argument went from the yelling to the huffing, both claiming to need tea if they were going to endure all that for longer. Peter debates staying for a while, he actually had plans with James for the day, but as soon as the yelling gains speed again, he knows those are gone and gives up, leaving only James, you and Sirius and the thick weight of the horrible mood the room was filled with. "I won't be doing idiotic stuff on the field just 'cause you want me to, honey." James keeps the nickname, not matter how mad he gets, but there's nothing sweet on his tone. And you want to reply, you really do, you want to say he's the only idiot, that you lost because of him, but instead you suddenly feel a strong push on the back of your head, making you and James touch foreheads. "Can you both just please kiss and make up already." Sirius isn't even joking, he sounds tired, his hands still holding both of your heads as you and James yelled his name, shocked he would even dare to say such thing. Why would James ever want to kiss you? Or you kiss him? Just because you enjoyed having him around and he made you heart feel a bit weak and you wanted him to validate how smart you are? Just because James always got your favorite treats from Honeydukes, always asked his dad to make you cosmetic potions if you wanted, and he would always have a spare scarf and gloves when you forgot yours? And the ball finally fucking dropped for you both. You saw it in his eyes as he saw it in your tiny grin, but oh, you were not going to give this so easy to Sirius, so you just crossed your arms over your chest, scoffed loudly and went straight to your dorm. Sirius was happy to get you both to shut up at least. And he did find out a month later that when he was napping on the common room couch, James went to your dorm and did kiss you, and that was probably why all arguments had turned into just light banter, with flirty laughs and touches. James did have to learn to accept you were mostly always right, but he gained a gorgeous girlfriend, an infinite supply of kisses and the hottest make out sessions, so he got over it pretty quickly.

[magenta-embers]

Fetus Jimin's Blatant Crush on Jungkook

Today I wanted to travel back in time and put a spotlight on a period of utmost importance when it comes to understanding the full picture of Jikook and part of what makes it such a legitimate possibility.

Believing that they could truly be a couple now is made as easy as breathing when you observe their history. You need the whole context to take Jikook from just another ship to something potentially very real. It's a context that the other pairings in the group just don't have.

The Jimin and Jungkook we know now are settled and comfortable with themselves and with each other. You could call them domestic. But back in the day, say 2013-2015, it was a different story.

To put it simply: Jimin and Jungkook had a massive mutual crush on each other and it wasn't even remotely subtle.

Most Jikookers know what I'm talking about, but if you haven't had a chance to look deeper into the context of these two together, here's a teensy intro.

I'm gonna share a select few of my personal highlight moments exhibiting Jimin's crush + his confusion/acceptance regarding it. There are hours of moments to choose from and an image/gif limit, so we'll keep it to a minimum.

We're going to focus on the Jimin side of things today. Jungkook will probably get his own post as these two expressed their feelings quite differently.

Present-day Jimin is very good at compartmentalizing what thoughts or parts of thoughts he shares with us. He's vague in all the right areas, chooses his words carefully, omits certain details, and is overall pretty masterful at the parasocial aspect of being an idol. Back then though?

Holy sweet mother of pearl, he just said and did anything.

He was honest (embarrassingly so) and he wore his heart on his sleeve. Because of this fumbling period with no brain-to-mouth filter, there exists some incredible retrospective insight into how Jimin feels about Jungkook at his core, without all the masking and nonchalance we get nowadays.

(Let's be real though, he still slips up)

"JK is coming."

Boy 💀

Let's get into it.

~

Exhibit A

This first section is going to look at a very young Jimin's struggle with these new, unfamiliar feelings he's been having lately (not necessarily in exact chronological order but some highlights within the "budding crush" stage).

A.1

While affectionately petting the maknae's hair and nape, Jimin wonders aloud why he likes Jungkook so much, as if he likes him an abnormal amount or differently than the five other friends he has in the group. If anything, Jimin should have liked Tae the most at this point since they were friends from school. Yet, Jimin openly questions what makes Jungkook different.

It's an introspective question disguised as a rhetorical one. Obviously, Jimin doesn't want JK to answer and JK, shy as he is, doesn't know how to answer a loaded question like that so he tries to redirect Jimin's attention to actual matters. It doesn't quite work.

Jimin then says, "These days, Jungkook..." and trails off while scratching his head with lighthearted frustration as if to say, "These days, Jungkook... plagues my mind," or something to that sentiment. JK's on his mind a lot and it confuses him. He doesn't finish the sentence but instead brushes it off with a laugh.

He holds back because it'll look weird to people if he gets into how much he thinks about JK or unpacks why. Still, he can't help but start to talk about it, because it's something that's actively bothering him.

A.2

Like I said, not only does Jimin think about JK too much, but he's also thinking about how people will judge him for how he perceives Jungkook. People might think he's strange.

Why?

JK's the timid maknae with big, curious eyes. Of course, he's cute. Everyone will agree. Everyone does agree. So why is Jimin concerned with what he can say about Jungkook that's okay to others? He even pouts sadly for a moment at the end. The maknae's cute and he's kind of glum over it? He's definitely been overthinking it.

Also, the way Jimin cartoonishly moves his head and eyes while talking about how bewildered JK always is and how adorable he is for it is a hilarious attempt at being nonchalant, but to me, it just looks like a schoolboy trying not to seem gushy about his secret crush.

A.3

Jungkook's so cute and so charming that Jimin can't function like he wants to. Can't live properly because Jungkook's on his mind constantly. He's super distracting. Is this a normal friendship thing? No. You don't see Hobi or Joon saying this about him. It's a problem exclusive to Jimin. And exclusive for Jungkook.

Jimin knows it's weird too. He's acting lighthearted about it, but to randomly say, "I can't live because of you" and keep bumping into JK is his frustration bleeding through. All the while he can't take his eyes off him as if he's trying to solve his dilemma right then and there.

Overall, It seems like Jimin doesn't understand what it is he's feeling, just that it's a lot, which makes me think that up until the Jungkook point, he hadn't really considered his sexuality on a meaningful level. We know that Jimin was the least experienced romantically, so it wouldn't surprise me if that's the case.

It's okay, Jiminie. You'll figure out a lot of things about yourself sooner rather than later.

Exhibit B

This section is about a period of time when Jimin accepted his crush and became unbelievably annoying vocal about it. You could also do an essay on why he was so in everyone's face about it.

B.1

Man, he just outright said it, huh?

Jimin wants to be with Jungkook and go on a date with him and hold hands.

Okay, pack it up everyone, we're done here. He like likes him, oooooooh!

Look at him clinging to JK's clothes and merrily skipping forward holding his wrist. Bless his heart. As Jimin once mentioned, "My heart that thinks of Jungkook is quite big."

Peep everyone else's reactions. JK has no objections and is just basically making his "Yeeeeeaaaah" face. Namjoon and Yoongi are a mix of confused and exasperated, both going, "What?" at the inappropriate(?) answer. Hobi attempts a poker face.

They shove Jimin away and attempt to move on...

And Jimin comes right back, practically leaps on Jungkook to plead with him to "live happily together." Okay.

When I tell you he's embarrassing.

Now Namjoon is straight-up irritated because Jimin didn't get the hint and is ruining the interview. He rolls his eyes and shoves them both back this time like he knows he's gotta get rid of the whole equation.

Hobi's glare poker face fails and he attempts to redirect focus to the topic with his own answer, complete with a pointed hand gesture.

Yoongi has a genuine scrunch of judgy confusion as if he just doesn't get wtf Jimin is trying to do because he should know better or why he's acting so clingy right now.

Jungkook quietly preens under Jimin's attention, but it's also awkward because he can read the room, so he doesn't quite know how to react other than remain pliable. He does reach for Jimin's hand subconsciously though.

I don't think it's even necessary to keep going, but oh ho ho, we're gonna keep going.

B.2

Tae: "I think he kind of likes men."

Now, I don't love the way Tae blurts this out, putting Jimin on the spot and nearly outing him. But also, it's meant to be a joke and he likely doesn't know yet just how on the nose he really is. Tae has grown and matured a lot over the years, so forgive him for this blip.

I imagine Tae has had to sit through a lot of sus rants from Jimin about Jungkook at this point. Because it's interesting that the statement came out of him so readily as if he's considered this about Jimin more than once. He's one of the closest people to Jimin, so if he's been pondering this about his friend then it's a pretty significant observation.

Now how does Jimin react to this out-of-pocket accusation? Is it:

a) "Haha, noooo!"

b) "What are you saying?"

c) "Not like that!"

d) "Come on now."

e) He doesn't deny it whatsoever.

If you answered e, you get a sun and moon sticker. It would've been so easy and expected for Jimin to deny this claim, but he doesn't. Because he can't. Because he'd be lying. Because he does kind of like men. Especially one in particular. And Jimin is just too honest.

He does very gracefully tiptoe around a confirmation (and a shutdown of the topic) by telling Tae he doesn't like him specifically. His reflex was to be defensive of himself and how much he likes Jungkook. It also further confirms that how Jimin likes Tae (his best friend) is different from how he likes Jungkook. It's all truly very telling.

(JK's reactions are very cute, but we won't get into that here.)

B.3

Host: "You're free to go anywhere in the world with anyone you want to do anything you wish. Where are you, what are you doing, and who are you with?"

Jimin:

Really? He had this romantic-ass answer ready to go. The other members gave normal answers about family and such. Jimin could've easily. But no. He then smiles sweetly over at Jungkook. The host is actually flustered by his answer and translates what he says, but conveniently leaves out the holding hands part.

But this is a fluke, right? He just said Jungkook as a silly answer, right?

Oh, look! Another instance when he can answer with anything and still ends up being honest.

"I think Jungkook is very cute." It's his go-to answer when people ask him why he likes JK so much. People keep mentioning it because his liking for Jungkook is noticeably and abnormally loud. Yet, Jimin's usual answer isn't really a complete answer, is it? "Cute" can be part of a reason, but not the whole reason. Cute is the safe detail he can share.

Lmao at Tae's side-eye at Jimin fawning over Jungkook shamelessly. You can tell he's thinking, "...this mf likes men" again. He hasn't perfected that Tae poker face just yet.

So Jimin really wants that private trip with Jungkook, hey? Why not with Tae, his bestie? His soulmate? Tae's also very cute, no?

Because he doesn't mean a friend trip.

(Don't fret, Jiminie. You'll get your private trip with Jungkook and it'll be beyond your expectations.)

B.4

A couple of examples of Jungkook being aggressively on Jimin's mind even when he's just answering basic questions.

No one: So, what do-

Jimin: Jungkookie <3

Literally, who asked? No one's twisting his arm here to make him answer "Jungkook" with romantic implications under these totally general questions. He could've answered with literally anything else.

Some thoughts:

If he was being speedy and just writing/saying the first things that popped into his head, it still means Jungkook is at the forefront of his mind. Plagues his mind, if you will.

If he was carefully considering the questions and answering honestly, it still means Jungkook is heavily weighing in his mind at a vulnerable level.

Jungkook still came before performing and receiving attention. The first thing. Not the last thing as a joke because Jimin couldn't think of anything else.

He makes sure to stake his claim over Jungkook in his description of him. "Mine." How fanfic.

His weakness is Jungkook. He can't resist him. Point blank. Why would he say that? How else am I supposed to interpret that?

Jungkook reaches every corner of Jimin's mind. Even if Jimin manages to convince himself he's just being playful and jokey, it's the repetitive nature and exclusivity of Jungkook being involved in his answers that are eyebrow-raising and give him away. He might as well doodle hearts around "JK" all over the page. It's a textbook crush. He's infatuated with this person he thinks is unattainable.

B.5

"Happy Birthday Jeon Jungkook! Please accept my love!" followed by blowing a kiss, an awkward giggle, and a glance at Jungkook.

What love? He's already accepted your platonic love; you guys are good friends, attached at the hip, and Jungkook's made it explicitly clear he likes you a lot and appreciates how well you treat him/take care of him. What more do you want him to accept, exactly, Jimin?

Again, unnecessary. No one's making him say this. No one's expecting him to say this. No one wants him to say this. And yet.

B.6

Manifest your dreams, Jiminie.

I don't even have to explain to you how common the "We look like a couple! Haha, just kidding... Unless?" thing is. We've all been there. You want to plant the seed in your crush's head. You want them to think about it, to consider the image of you two together. Jimin's planted a whole grove in JK's head with the way he's been all over him these couple of years.

Exhibit C

The kisses.

The amount of times Jimin either asks to kiss Jungkook, asks Jungkook to kiss him, or tries to kiss Jungkook is quite frankly absurd. These are just some examples. Some!

Imagine this was your friend who keeps trying to kiss you. For years. Jokes get really old really fast. You'd laugh and play along the first time. Laugh it off the second time. Force a laugh the third time.

At what point would you start wondering if your friend has legitimate feelings for you?

At what point do you think Jungkook did?

Especially considering Jimin's general behavior toward him.

(The other members don't laugh when it happens in front of them. It's always either wtf are you saying or they change the subject with visible discomfort.)

What Jimin is doing here (via "jokes") is testing Jungkook's boundaries, gauging his reactions, because he's interested in him beyond platonic limits. He really, really wants to kiss Jungkook and fantasizes about it, but he will not make a serious first move out of fear of being rejected.

Food for thought: Post-2015, Jimin doesn't ask Jungkook for kisses anymore or beg him to love him back, while coincidentally also becoming intimately touchier than ever with each other.

Perhaps Jimin finally got what he wanted? Hmm...

~

We can stop here. I think you get the point.

Everyone, say it with me now: Jimin wants Jungkook romantically.

He wants to go on dates with Jungkook.

He wants to hold hands with Jungkook.

He wants to kiss Jungkook.

He's expressed these things in every way he can:

He's acted them out.

He's said them aloud.

He's written them down.

Over and over and over again. What more do you want? I am not assuming anything. To say that he doesn't is just blatantly ignoring poor Jimin screaming it from the rooftops to fit whatever agenda you have. It's a you problem.

If you want to see more examples of everything (because there are still plenty), just watch this. In fact, watch every video on this channel. Treat yourself.

Also thanks to this heaven-sent channel for the captions on almost everything in this post (all gifs by me).

If I see a single one of you say with your whole chest that Jimin thinks of Jungkook in a brotherly way after this, I will hunt you down and beat your ass and your brother's ass.

Open your damn eyes.

I hope you enjoyed my spiel. Till next time!

E.

[seabirdtxt]

Hello! Just recently found your blog, and I am in love with your fanfic, Glitch In Irminsul!

I honestly have no idea if I'm the first one to request on your blog, but I do hope this idea is okay with you!

May I request this: Reader who is a comedian with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei, reacting to Reader making Cyno's bad jokes (quote on quote) "better"? You don't have to find a joke for Reader if you don't wanna :)

I'm a little obsessed with their dynamic as of right now. If you do happen to take this request, thanks :D

Also idk if you wanna take Anons, but if you do someday, is it alright if I claim "🎪 Anon" as my alias? Sorry if I'm asking too much! I hope you have a great day :)

hi!! thanks so much for your request, and your patience!! 🩵 i had a good bit of fun writing this for you, i love bad jokes 🤭

WC. 1092

----- ⚘ -----

As the General Mahamatra, and having been personally assigned to your guard by Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, it is Cyno’s sworn duty to attend to every need and whim of the almighty Creator.

And when the Creator demands that you tell them your absolute worst joke, the one that nobody has ever even laughed at yet, well, who is he to deny them?

“- didn’t realize that, at that very moment, a Hydro slime was praying to meet a lone, stranded traveler.” Cyno finishes the joke with a straight face, at the exact same moment that the door to the hut swings open, revealing Tighnari and Collei with several bags of groceries in their arms.

“Oh, Cyno, not the slime joke again.” Tighnari groans over the sound of your absolutely raucous laughter at the horrible joke.

“But the Creator likes it.” Cyno protests, gesturing to you hanging part way off the table and clutching your stomach. You honestly don’t find the joke itself all that funny, but the sheer confidence with which he tells it paired with the completely deadpan expression he has is sending you into hysterics.

“They’re going to eat each other!” You gasp, trying to sit back properly on the chair. A few lingering giggles hit you when you see Tighnari’s deeply disappointed expression. “Hahaha… but slimes don’t have a mouth, do they? How would it eat the person?”

“Exactly!” Tighnari says, pointing at Cyno with the hand not holding the groceries. “It doesn’t make any sense! Slimes wouldn’t-”

“And what did the stranded traveler say in that situation?” You add, confusing both Tighnari and Cyno into silence. Cyno blinks a few times, visibly wondering if there was a part of the joke that he forgot to tell, and he’s about to ask for clarification when Collei beats him to the punch.

“Your Grace, the traveler didn’t say anythi-” Collie begins, but you’re already on a roll.

“He said, ‘it must be slime for dinner!’”

You can’t help but erupt into laughter again at seeing everyone’s reactions: Collei’s slow realization, Cyno perking up excitedly, and Tighnari imploding with exasperation.

“You see, because ‘slime’ sounds like ‘time’-”

“Yes, Cyno. Thanks. I got the gist.”

You’re still gasping for air, leaning back in the chair and bracing yourself on the wall behind you. Tighnari’s frown falters a little, your joy infectious even if the joke is terrible.

“Slime for dinner, and sand for dessert!” You add, and Cyno chuckles even as he brings out his wretched book of jokes and begins writing an annotation in the margins, which Tighnari is sure the librarian will greatly appreciate later. “Get it? ‘Cause dessert, and desert?”

Tighnari is about to snarkily reply, when a surprising sound catches his attention. He turns with a horrified expression to Collei, who has her hand over her mouth and eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh no, Collei…” Tighnari says warningly, shaking his head, which causes the girl to snort again and she quickly puts down her groceries before she can drop them.

“I- I’m sorry, Master,” she fights through her giggles, which only spurs you and Cyno on. “It’s just… it’s so bad…”

“Come on, ‘Nari, it’s just a joke,” Cyno attempts to bring the Valuka Shuna in on the fun. “Think of it as a way to break the ice.”

“Yeah, Tighnari,” you add. “Snow fun otherwise.”

Collei lets out a full belly laugh, to Tighnari’s dismay and Cyno’s apparent confusion.

“You’ve never laughed at my jokes like that,” the general points out, and Collei can only laugh harder.

“We’re morally obligated to laugh at the Creator’s jokes, ‘lest Their Grace smite us with impunity.” Tighnari states tonelessly, completely opposing his own statement.

That’s about as much as you can take. You slide bonelessly off the chair, howling with laughter on the floor like some kind of hyena.

“Look what you did! You corrupted the Creator!”

“The Creator told that joke all on their own!”

While Cyno and Tighnari are bickering, Collei helps you off of the floor, steadying you in your chair as you both come down from your laughing. She checks you over to make sure you didn’t injure yourself on your way down, then grabs her bag and rummages through it before producing a shiny red apple.

“We brought snacks!” she announces, handing you the fruit proudly. “And we have the stuff for dinner tonight! We picked these fresh, though. They’re very sweet this season!”

You take the apple with a grin and rub it on your shirt to clean it before taking a bite.

“Wow, these really are sweet! Thanks, Collei!” You marvel at how good the apple tastes, somehow different from Earth’s apples, with a refreshing, sugary taste.

“You’re very welcome!” Collei beams at the praise. “I’m gonna go get Master Tighnari to stop griping and help me with dinner, now, though.”

You perk up at the mention of cooking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, gosh, no! You’re our guest, please let us take care of it!” Collei insists, then scurries over to the other two.

You decide to follow her just as she’s asking Tighnari for help with cooking. The botanist huffs with mild annoyance, his tail sweeping from side to side.

“I’m not sure Cyno needs dinner, Collei,” he states. “Since he wants to act childish, perhaps it would be best to put him in time-out for the evening.”

“That’s not very knife of you, Tighnari,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Why don’t you fork-give him for now so we can have dinner together?”

Tighnari squints at you, somehow sensing you’ve made a pun (or two) despite your straight delivery.

“... Are you going to stop with the jokes too, Your Grace?” he asks, his ear flicking.

“What jokes? Collei wanted to ask for your help with the cooking. How can you say no to dish face?” You sidle up behind Collei and use your pointer fingers to make her smile, which she tolerates with surprising grace. “Isn’t she adora-bowl?”

“...” Tighnari maintains his stance for a few more seconds, and then sighs in defeat. “I don’t have a counter to that. Very well, I suppose I can let it slide for tonight, since it’s for you, Your Grace…”

“Hehehe, counter,” you mumble, which causes Collei to erupt into giggles once more, and Cyno to look extremely pleased with your ability.

And Tighnari to make a noise of exasperation, throwing his hands up and stomping toward the kitchen on his own.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”