#daffodil (she/any)

[localceilingdevil]

slimerancher....

two of my ocs as ranchers up in the far, far range !!! they are best friends. donny cultivates honey slimes and the occasional puddle or two, whereas daf keeps mosaic slimes and other dangerous variants :]

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Boyfriends are a hassle sometimes

Clove belongs to @dread0narrival

[supurrb]

my dad: if u somehow got into a huge house u would never see ur cats, u would always be looking for them

me and my cats:

[atomiccocktailhangover]

11 for all of them, please... and (I'm choosing without looking at the list) 7 for Daffodil & partner.

Another late response, but I had a lotta fun with these ones! ~

11. Are they into dirty talk?

Daffodil/Deacon: Unfortunately, yes! So much! To the dismay of anybody who happens to be in earshot.

Deacon has a hard time being sincere, so he gets more playful than serious in bed. Daffodil loves it - she’s glad he’s comfortable enough to still joke around even when he’s this vulnerable with her. Also she thinks he’s SO funny. Being theatrical as she is, she rolls with it and “yes, and--” 's him until they’ve full on veered into Porn Parody Dialogue territory.

Tuesday/Danse and Tuesday/Rhys response under the cut

Tuesday’s way into it. She’s raunchy as hell with it, too. No coyness or double-entendre here, just pure sleaze. And she doesn’t keep it exclusively in the bedroom - her idea of flirting with her partner is to nonchalantly whisper something x-rated in their ear and hope it gets them all hot and bothered. Sometimes her timing’s off, though, and they’re just like “Jesus, Tuesday, not now.” It’s a real kick to her ego.

Paladin Danse is. Well. About what you’d expect. He’s not much of a talker in bed, though when he is he’s direct with his wants and intentions. Tuesday likes encouraging him to talk nasty to her, and he’ll comply in the moment but feel embarrassed about it later on. He’s also not very good at it. Sometimes she’ll make him say what he wants to do to her, and he’ll come back with something like “I want to have intercourse with you.” He tries his best.

When Rhys was alive, he could match her energy. He matched it a little too well, even - she’d try to order him around, he’d try to assert dominance, half the time their dirty-talk just sounded like another one of their arguments. The other half of the time they really were just arguing in the middle of sex.

7. What is their favorite intimately non-sexual thing to do with their partner?

They like to bathe together. It’s rare that they have access to running water, so when they find a shower or tub they make the most of it. Daffodil’s a bubble bath with rose petals kinda gal (though usually the best she can find is some soap and dried hubflowers), she’ll make a whole spa day out of it when she’s able. And Deacon provides the snacks. He’s a bath-snacker. Which Daffodil was iffy on until she kicked back with a glass of wine and a fresh mutfruit, and now she’ll never go back.

But even on days when all they have is a bucket of water and a rag, they like to turn on the radio and scrub each others’ backs. Deacon has a hard time letting himself be taken care of, so he tells himself its an exercise in team-building so he won’t feel too guilty about it. Daffodil doesn’t really know how much it means to him, because to her it just feels natural - of course they deserve a relaxing soak after a long day of wasteland adventures! Everybody deserves to pamper themselves!

[scratching92]

A quick thing I wrote for a Lancer pilot I've been working on. I don't even know if this is 100% the backstory I want to go with for her, but it's something.

She had first met CM-4418 when she had completed her Onboarding. Aside from his being the first non-labcoat she had ever met, there was nothing special to the meeting. They explained that she would be joining a Team, that he would be her Team Leader, and that he would handle all future queries about the job. CM-4418 had smiled a lot throughout the meeting. She remembered disliking that smile. He had also called her “Kid”. She had disliked that, too.

He had shadowed her almost constantly from that point. CM-4418 had said he was simply looking out for his juniors, but she was not convinced. She had asked him if she was making mistakes in the field. He had said no. Then she asked him if he felt she was not performing adequately in some aspect of the role. He had told her no, of course not. She then asked him if SSC felt she was inadequate. CM-4418 had told her no, not at all - they were thrilled with her performance. So she told him, if she was performing so well, why did he insist on shadowing her?

CM-4418 had not had an answer for her.

Once, when they had chosen callsigns for themselves, he had taken an interest in her choice. “There are all sorts of stories about Daffodils on Cradle,” he’d told her. “There was one about a man who saw his own reflection, and was so stunned that he’d neglected his hunger, his thirst, his own life in favour of gazing upon that perfection. Before even Union, it was his name they had given to Daffodils”.

She had simply said that she was not familiar with such Cradelian fables.

The perfection of the human form was their driving goal. Each of them - CM-4418 and CM-7510, and the rest of the team - had been put together piece by piece to bring about that perfection, down to the genetic level. Every secret stolen, every rat squashed, every voice muted by a bullet - it was all so that a more perfect world could take its place. They were perfect beings, created to perfectly kill imperfection itself.

If she had ever been unhurried in the completion of her orders - found hesitance in the finger that pulled the trigger just a little too slowly - it had only been because this imperfect world fought with every tooth and nail to make her forget herself. Forget her goals. Forget perfection. She did not forget their vision of a perfect world.

CM-4418 did.

CM-4418 had debased himself. Cast off his wings to become a rat. He had turned his eyes away from perfection, and now had to be eliminated. The job, then, had fallen to her - the new Team Leader. She remembered accepting the job with a nod of the head. Her throat had felt strangely parched.

They had caught him attempting to sneak aboard a vessel bound for non-Constellar space. There had been a fight. There had been bullets. There had been blood. He had attempted to flee, and she had watched him from her scope. Crimson blossoms had bloomed from his skull, and he had run no more.

She had never liked his smile. She had never liked the way he called her “Kid”. She had not cared for his Cradelian fables. But for some reason, when she had returned to her dorm, she did not see perfection in the mirror - only the streaks of tears. Only a wretched flower.

[chocodaffodil]

Ahh... resigned to my fate of having a roommate who now games into the night...

[mali-umkin]

.

[psychoticallytrans]

A commonly overlooked symptom of depression is anhedonia, the inability to feel joy or pleasure. The reason that it's easy to overlook is that it's easier to miss the absence of something that's not around all the time than it is to miss a symptom that causes active distress, such as feeling tired and miserable all the time.

Anhedonia is good at being a persistent undercurrent to your life. My aunt, who has major depressive disorder, related to me that she figured out that something was wrong when she looked at the daffodils she had planted blooming, and couldn't recognize the emotion that she felt when she looked at them. It had been long enough since she had felt happy that she lost the ability to recognize the emotion.

It's a particularly dangerous depressive symptom, because it robs you of the ability to feel those little spots of joy that keep a lot of people going, while not doing anything to impair your ability to function. If you don't know that this is a treatable symptom of depression, it's easy to assume that your ability to feel good is permanently broken, and decide to commit suicide because you don't want to live like that. It's not an irrational conclusion, but it is an uninformed one, and everyone deserves to have all the information when making a major decision.

This is what a lot of questionnaires are trying to look for when they ask about "loss of enjoyment". If you can't remember a loss of enjoyment because you can't remember enjoyment, then you probably have anhedonia. If you struggle to define how it is to feel "happy", "content", or "good", or how it feels when you feel those emotions, you probably have anhedonia. If you can't remember feeling any of those emotions for a week or more, you probably have anhedonia.

Symptoms commonly co-occurring with anhedonia are fatigue (often the cause), clear and thoughtful consideration of suicide, loss of desire to socialize or do activities that used to make you happy, and weight loss (due to lack of enjoyment of food).

This section is anecdotal. In what I have observed, anhedonia due to fatigue rarely responds well to depression treatment unless depression was causing the fatigue. If fatigue and anhedonia are co-occurring and are not both alleviated by depression treatment, consider other causes for the fatigue.

[decembermoonskz]

so uh 📝

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

flowers 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Summary: y/n gets flowers for lando after every podium and win he's had in 2024.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ln x reader ִ ࣪𖤐

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ fluff ִ ࣪𖤐

masterlist ☾☼

"what's your favourite flower?"

"hm?"

"what's your favourite flower?"

"don't have one,"

"why not?"

"never got any flowers,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

australia p3 - daffodils [new beginnings]

the start of the season was decent, according to lando. getting his first podium of the season was good. he was proud of it, of course he was. and to celebrate with one of his closest friends on the top step was even more special.

the car was getting better, but he knew there was a lot more still left to do. his mechanics had told him, had explained to him that it's difficult, and it's all theoretical. lando understood that. it wasn't necessary that the car that would be faster in theory would work practically as well. but, lando tried his best to give as much feedback as he could.

he was sticky with champagne, and after all the media duties and celebrations, he just wanted to escape. he wanted to escape to his driver room, and call his girlfriend and maybe his mum as well.

"good race, man," one of his mechanics congratulated him as he walked to his driver's room.

"thanks, mate," lando responded, smiling, and clapping his hand against the others in a bro handshake thing.

it didn't have a name.

finally reaching his driver room, lando opened the door and stopped short.

on the table in the corner had a bouquet of flowers. flowers he had never seen before in person. flowers he hadn't ordered, and knew jon wouldn't order for him.

slowly, he walked closer to the bouquet, and picked up the card hidden in the flowers.

"for your first podium of 2024, it's a new beginning. i love you. y/n <3"

lando smiled, a bright, shining smile. he'd just received flowers. for possibly the first time ever. immediately finding his phone, he video called his girlfriend.

"hi, baby! congratulations!" she said immediately as she answered the call.

"thank you for the flowers, my love," lando said softly, still admiring the flowers.

"they're daffodils! do you like them?"

"they're absolutely beautiful,"

she smiled, and it filled lando with a warm feeling. "i'm glad,"

lando sat on the little bench, craddling the bouquet against his chest like it was the podium trophy, and the two lost themselves in conversations and laughter and love.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

china p2 - iris [hope]

his second podium of the season. lando wasn't feeling particularly confident. with himself or the car. he knew that there was still a long way to go. the car felt a little alive, but nearly not enough for winning races.

he finished almost 14 seconds behind max, and that didn't make him feel very good from the team perspective. sure, it was important points he got for the wcc, but again, not nearly enough especially with checo coming in third, five or seconds behind him.

lando hoped that he could get mclaren in top 3 again at the very least, but he was already losing hope, and the season had just begun.

trudging back to his drivers room, lando opened the door, entering and quickly shutting it behind him. he needed some time to think, some time to himself.

as he sat down on the little bench thing, he noticed something purple and fragile peeking from his packed bag. he didn't have the energy to move, really. but something about it forced him to move.

slowly unzipping the bag, he pulled out the flowers. irises. he knew these. how? he didn't know.

his face broke into a smile again. taking the card attached, he read, "p2, baby! lfg! don't lose hope. your time will come! i love you. y/n <3"

he quickly snapped a picture, and sent it to his sleeping girlfriend, thanking her, and telling her that he would call her first thing once she was awake.

a knock on the door told him that it was time to leave, to go back to the hotel to pack, before their flight. zipping his bag up again, but keeping the flowers in his hand, lando picked up his stuff, and exited the room, still delicately holding the irises.

his beautiful, hopeful irises.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

miami p1 - lilac [first love]

oh, lando wished this feeling would never go away. it was a mix of relief and feeling proud of himself.

he was sticky with champagne, but for once, he didn't care, because, fuck, he was a race winner. he was a fucking race winner.

seven years he'd been with mclaren, and five years driving. his sixth year, he'd finally won. fucking finally won a race.

he couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop laughing, he was so happy. so fucking happy. he was proud of himself, and he was so thankful for everyone who had stuck by him throughout his career, before f1 and during.

the celebrations were long, as they should be. his team was so happy for him, he'd spoken to his family on call in a few quiet moments, and he'd had max on a video call for most part of the celebration, desperately wishing he was there as well. aarav, niran, ria were there, but honestly, they weren't max. no one could ever be max.

this was also the race that his girlfriend had attended. he'd wanted her there, told her specifically to fly out because he had a good feeling in his gut.

and what a good feeling it was.

throughout the celebrations, lando kept her somewhere in his line of sight, needing to make sure that she was comfortable. someone had gotten her a bottle of champagne too, and every time the team sprayed him with it, she joined in on the fun, laughing with him and his team.

later, both of them sticky and smelling of champagne, they walked back to his driver room. his arm was across her shoulder, and hers was wrapped around his waist.

as soon as he opened the door, his eyes widened, "oh my god,"

y/n was looking at his expectantly, biting her lip to gauge his reaction. he slowly removed his arm from her shoulder as he walked in the two steps of space the room had left.

"oh my fucking god," he muttered, still taking it all in.

"do you like it?" she whispered.

the room was full of bouquets of lilacs, each one bright and blooming. there wasn't much space left in the room, but god, it looked so beautiful.

lando immediately turned around, wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his head in her neck and picked her up. "i love it so much,"

her fingers were in his curls as she said, "they're lilacs. to remind you of your first love: racing."

lando pulled back from the hug, settling her down, "thank you so much. i love it. i love you. fuck, i love you," grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her, long and slow, wanting to cherish the moment.

later on, when the two of them had changed, they slowly picked up all the bouquets, and lando handed out three stems to each of his mechanics and his engineers, and anyone who was in lando norris' team, and then gave two stems each to the rest of them. he gave four to zak, and the man had laughed and wrapped lando in another hug.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

emilia-romagna p2 - gladiolus [believing in yourself]

he was so close. fuck, he was so goddamn close to winning again. 0.752 seconds behind, he was so close.

he was happy for max v, of course he was. he was happy with p2 as well. there was no doubt in that. but, when p1 was so close, and lando knows he could've pushed just a little harder, it does settle a sense of disappointment in his gut.

with a p2 and a p4, it was a lot of points for mclaren, and as much as that excited lando, he was also afraid. he wasn't sure if he could really continue to keep performing so well, or as well as he wanted to. he wanted to go out and win, and he wanted to make his team proud, but fuck, was he good enough for it? would he ever be good enough for it?

his head was swimming with self-doubt, and it was slowly overshadowing his happiness of p2. it was annoying, and he was frustrated. he wanted to be happy about the podium, and the points, and all of that. he so desperately wanted to. but the questions, the what ifs just never stopped in his head.

opening the door to his driver room, he stopped. slowly he remembered. the flowers. his girlfriend. there was a bouquet of flowers he didn't know kept neatly in a vase. he assumed jon had done that.

removing his race suit, and quickly changing into fresher clothes, he picked up the bouquet, finding the note attached, "these are gladiolus. they're a reminder that you need to believe in your yourself. i love you. y/n <3"

lando laughed. how his girlfriend knew what was going on in his brain, he didn't know, but he was forever grateful that she was some sort of mind reader.

quickly snapping a picture and sending it to her, he hugged the flowers against his chest, wishing that she was there to hug him.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

canada p2 - poppy [strength]

lando walked into his driving room with his back still heavy from the intense race he had. the rain made it a battle to stay on the track; the visibility wasn't good, and the grip could be anywhere; the race felt like having a war with nature. still, he held steady enough to finish in p2, an impressive result if he said so himself.

as he shut the door, his eyes alighted on something that immediately threw a smile to his face. on the little table in the middle of the room was an exquisite bouquet of red poppies. the striking flowers stood out starkly against the antiseptic ambiance of the room, their radiant petals glowing brightly under the subdued lighting. alongside them rested a note.

lando stepped closer, picking up the card, and his heart gave a slight lurch when he saw her familiar handwriting.

"for your strength, my love. you showed it today, just like I know you always will. i'm so proud of you. you've got this, no matter what the track throws at you. i love you. y/n <3"

he let the words sink in, the weight of the race lightening for a moment as the warmth of her support surrounded him. the poppy—symbolizing strength, resilience, and overcoming adversity—was the perfect gesture for a race like this. the rain-soaked chaos of canada had tested him, yet here he was, with a podium finish in his grasp.

lando swept a hand back through his drenched hair, letting out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back into the wall. it wasn't just the soggy track, or the keen competition that had made the race so hard today—it was always the pressure; the little things that crept in with each lap. yet now, his hands wrapped about the bouquet before him, with her words going round in his head, gave him a deep quiet strength.

he placed the flowers gently on the windowsill, then took a minute to absorb the comfort in that gesture. she wasn't there, but somehow in that little room, she was. she was with him and reminded him of when he would go through some really tough days; he would know he was capable of holding it together.

the poppies, resplendent even in the rain, were the perfect symbol of how far he'd come—and how far he would still go.

"thanks, lovie," he whispered to the empty room, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he stared out the window at the distant lights of the circuit.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

spain p2 - orchids [remain positive]

p2 in spain. what a wonderful day. and he had managed to get the fastest lap. that, he liked the most for some reason.

he was desperate for another win. well, actually, no. he wasn't desperate for it. he wanted to win, yes, and he knew that he would have to be patient for it, and work on it himself.

the bottom line was, he wanted to win.

he trusted the car, and he trusted his team. he would get opportunities in the future, and he will be able to win, he knows that. somewhere in his brain, he knows that.

yet, sometimes, there's a little crack in that knowing. that little fear of the unknown, that what if he doesn't win again till next season? or the season after that?

no. no. that wasn't true. lando was a good driver. he was adapting to being in a fast car, but he was a good driver, and he would get another win soon. yes. that's what he needed to believe, that's what he needed to tell himself over and over again.

jon did a good job of reminding him of that too. he somehow always knew when lando's thoughts were beginning to spiral, and pulled him out before it happened. thank god for jon, really.

when he stepped off the podium, his trophy in hand, jon stood there with a bouquet of orchids. lando smiled instantly, despite the exhaustion.

lando handed the trophy to jon, and took the bouquet from him, as he was escorted to the conference room for the interviews.

he stared at his flowers, as the interview began.

"we wanted to start with max, but lando, you've captured our attention," ted kravitz started.

lando immediately looked up. "huh?"

"we see you've got some flowers. any idea who they're from or is it a secret admirer?"

lando laughed, "no, they're from my girlfriend. she gets me flowers for every podium i get,"

"kelly's never got me flowers," max added from beside him.

"yeah? she's got to step up her game, mate," lando joked.

"definitely, man. kelly, if you're watching this, i want flowers,"

the room laughed.

"they're orchids, aren't they?" lewis asked.

lando nodded, "yeah. my girlfriend said it's so that i remain positive because there's a lot more races to come,"

"that's sweet, man," lewis said, as he leaned back.

lando bit his lip, as he nodded. cause, yeah. that is sweet. his girlfriend is sweet.

"anything you want to say to your girlfriend, lando? while we're here," ted asked.

"um, just wanna thank her, really. i get more excited about the flowers now, than the trophy,"

the crowd laughed again, and the interviews shifted to max.

lando continued to stare at his orchids.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

silverstone p3 - periwinkle [home]

it was his home race. he wanted to do well in his home race. and he did. p3 was not bad. he was proud of himself, and a little disappointed for not winning, but he was much happier for lewis.

lewis had driven amazingly, and despite the fact that he was lando's competitor, lando couldn't help but applaud for him.

at the parc ferme, he met with his team, hugging them, and then hugged his girlfriend for a little longer. she had pressed a kiss to his helmet, and he winked at her.

max and he were talking when lewis came, and the two immediately congratulated the brit on his drive. lewis looked like he was about to cry, and lando wondered if he would ever feel like that, that emotion of winning at a home race.

after the podium celebrations, lando went for media duties, feeling sticky and in a desperate need of a shower. when he returned, he quickly found his girlfriend, giving her a little kiss, before promising her to be back in a few.

opening the door to his driver's room, he smiled at the bouquet kept beside his trophy. picking them up, he smiled at the periwinkles.

"periwinkles for your home race," y/n's voice was heard from behind him, and he turned around to see her leaning against the door frame.

he smiled, walking towards her, as he wrapped her in a loose hug, and said, "home is where you are, baby,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

hungary p2 - lotus [righteousness]

the team had fucked him over. the team had fucked him over so bad.

he didn't blame oscar. it wasn't oscar's fault. their strategy had been wrong, and they made a mistake. he was angry. he was angry at will for putting him in a position where either options felt wrong and right at the same time. he would never burst out on will, of course, and he knew he needed to control himself, but fuck fuck fuck, his team had fucked up.

lando reminded himself that he was the older driver now, the veteran. that meant it was upto him to make sure that oscar knew that the two of them were okay. and he did just that. he told oscar, showed him that there was no bad blood between the two of them, and lando wasn't mad at him.

he knew he was going to have to talk to andrea about the team orders later, but the exhaustion of the race was settling on his shoulders and he didn't want to do anything except go back home and cuddle with y/n.

that would fix everything.

after the celebrations, and the interviews, all lando wanted to do was go back to the hotel room and call y/n or max, and just rant. but, as soon as he walked in, a sort of disappointment added to the weight of his feelings already.

there was no bouquet. he'd gotten a podium. wasn't that the pattern that y/n was following? every time he got on the podium, she sent him flowers, right?

but, this time, there was nothing but one lone flower that wasn't even blooming. a deep hurt settled in his gut as he realised that maybe even his girlfriend was mad at him about the race and the way he responded with not giving oscar the position back immediately.

that somehow felt worse than the hate comments he'd been receiving on social media.

picking up the flower, he turned the card attached to it and read, "a lotus to represent the righteousness you showed on track. you did the right thing. i'm proud of you. would have been proud of you, regardless. i love you. y/n <3"

lando breathed a little easier. he let himself smile a little. she was proud of him. she thought he did the right thing. she was on his side.

how silly of him to think otherwise.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

netherlands p1 - amaryllis [to sparkle]

he did it. he did it again. yes, he lost the lead, but he got it back, and he created a 22 second gap, and he won. again.

finally.

he was happy, of course he was. though, what excited him more were the inevitable bouquet of flowers that would be in his drivers room. he couldn't wait to see what his girlfriend had chosen this time.

the trophy was huge, and it was heavy, but it was easily his favourite. the words written were all things he could relate to, and he was sure that every other driver could relate to it as well. it made him happy that there was someone out there, recognising the things they went through as sportsmen, or as a sportsperson.

excitedly, after the team celebrations, he ran to his drivers room, finding it full of flowers again, and he couldn't help but smile bigger than he already was.

it was just like miami, but this time, his girlfriend wasn't there with him. god, he missed her.

he video called her while he looked for the note, and just as he found it, her face filled his screen.

"lan!" she exclaimed, "you were so goddamn good! i'm so proud of you!"

"thank you, my lovie. hold on, i gotta read the card,"

"did you just get to the drivers room?"

lando nodded, as he flipped open the card.

it said, "hot damn, you were shining out there. some amaryllis for you to keep sparkling. i love you. y/n <3"

"y'know, this is my favourite part of getting on podiums now," lando said, as he pocketed the note.

"what? getting the flowers?" y/n joked.

"yes. getting the flowers from you." lando stared at her face on the screen, wishing he could kiss her in that moment.

"you're just saying that,"

"i'm really not," he settled on the floor, exhausted from the race, but he had a new found energy as he talked with his girlfriend. she was too excited to contain her reactions or yapping, and lando loved her more than anything to listen to every bit of it.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

italy p3 - lavender [calmness]

he didn't know what to feel. he was feeling a lot of things at the same time, and he didn't know which one to focus on first.

on one hand, he didn't blame oscar for wanting to prove himself to the world. he knew what it was like to enter the world of formula one with expectations on your shoulders that had no real reason being there. he knew that some of the fan comments had gotten to oscar, about how hungary was a gifted win and not earned on his own merit. he understood, really.

but that didn't mean that he was okay with the move he pulled on lando going into turn one. he had gotten way too close to lando's car, and if lando hadn't backed out even a little bit, the two would've crashed.

there was a championship fight on his shoulders, one that he didn't expect and didn't want. while he didn't want to win by his teammate letting him pass, he also did not expect his own teammate to pull a risky move like that.

the plan was a 1-2. they got a 2-3. it was a lot of points, but nearly not as much a 1-2 would have been.

really, lando would have been okay with only oscar had overtaken him. he would have been fine with that. what he wasn't okay with, was the fact that the move led to their competitor also overtaking them both.

that pissed him off a little bit.

he remained respectful in all the post race interviews, he praised his teammate, he did what was expected of him. he always did.

later, when he had a moment to himself in the drivers room, a knock interrupted him, and lando almost told the person to go away. he didn't want to deal with humans right now.

"lando? got something for you here," jon's voice rang.

sighing, lando stood up and opened the door. jon stood at the door, with a bouquet of lavenders in his hand.

"this got delivered for you. the delivery guy said that there was too much traffic on the way, so he couldn't get it on time, but here," jon gave the bouquet to lando before walking off.

lando stared at the flowers, as he closed the door and went back to his seat.

finding the folded note, it said, "lavenders for how calm you've been about it. good thing i wasn't there. i love oscar, i love you more. y/n <3"

lando smiled, and felt a little better. maybe a little more than just a little.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

singapore p1 - orange lilies [confidence]

lando was dizzy. singapore was always a difficult race physically, but it was always so fulfilling.

he led all 62 laps, created a 20 second gap. yes, he made some mistakes at a few places, but he was learning. lando was learning and he was proud of himself. he was so fucking proud of himself.

lando was thankful that max was here to watch him race. he needed that support. unfortunately, y/n couldn't be there, and as much as she tried to change her schedule to fit the race weekend, it just didn't work.

nevertheless, he'd spoken to her as soon as he got off the top step with his trophy in hand. how could he not?

later, when he found max, he laughed upon seeing his best friend. max fewtrell stood there with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands, looking annoyed and endeared.

"mate, someone got me flowers but i have no idea who! pietra said it wasn't her!" max said, as soon as lando was close enough.

lando laughed, feeling a little bad as he was about break his best friend's heart, "max, they're not for you,"

"yes, they are! a random dude found me, asked if i was max fewtrell, and i said, yes, and he handed me this and walked off!"

"right. i love you, man, but did you see if there was a note by chance?"

max paused, before he checked the bouquet and found a folded note hidden.

lando wanted to tell him to hand it over. he didn't want anyone else to read what y/n had written for him, but he also knew that max wouldn't believe him unless he saw it with his own eyes.

"orange lilies because my god, you were so confident on track, im gonna jump you as soon as youre back. i love you. y/n." max read.

the two men paused, lando trying not to laugh as max stared at nothing for a few seconds.

and then, he pushed the bouquet against lando's chest and said, "i think these might be for you."

lando burst out laughing, as he accepted the bouquet.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

mexico p2 - yellow roses [friendship]

lando was so proud of carlos. his heart was bursting from the happiness he had for his friend.

it had been a shock at the start of the year when his friends had told him that carlos was no longer signed with ferrari. he hadn't been expecting it.

now, though, watching his friend win for what might be the last time for a while, because even though carlos fucking sainz is going to williams, their car isn't going to magically be one of the best next season. it's going to take time. but, williams now has carlos fucking sainz, so it might just happen sooner than they think.

the plan was that in the evening, the sainz family, and lando and luigi would go out for dinner, and then maybe hit a club after the older-older members of the family had gone back to the hotel.

for lando, all of them were old.

smiling wide, he stepped into his drivers room, ready to take a shower, and get ready for the evening dinner, when he saw the bouquet on the table.

yellow roses.

opening the card, it said, "for your carlando love. it might just be greater than landoy/n but i'm okay with that ;) give him a few of these from me, would you? i love you. y/n."

keeping the bouquet back carefully, he quickly got ready and removed a few of the flowers from the bouquet for carlos, before handing the actual bouquet to jon to keep at his hotel room safely.

later, carlos sent a picture to y/n, a selfie of carlos and lando, and the yellow roses between them.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

abu dhabi p1 - nasturtium [victory]

she stood near the paddock, patiently waiting for lando, with a bouquet of nasturtiums in her hands. this one, she wanted to give in person.

she had taken a chance when ordering the flowers. sure, there was a chance that mclaren wouldn't have won the constructors, and while it was a small chance, she didn't want to jinx anything accidentally.

but lando had been confident, and y/n knew that if lando was feeling confident while being under so much pressure, there was nothing that could stop him from achieving his dream today.

y/n chatted with his mum and sister, all of three of them smiling so widely. the three women recounted specific parts of the races, every thought process that was going on during the race, the adrenaline, the anxiety, everything.

when lando finally found the three of them together, he hugged his mum first, and y/n smiled. she watched the sweet interaction between them, before he moved on to his sister, who joked with him but told him how proud she was.

finally, he turned to her, smiling so wide, eyes shining, and a relief in his shoulders. she pushed the flowers towards him, and said, "they're called nasturtium. for your victory, for your team's victory."

lando accepted the flowers, smiling softly as he looked at the bouquet. he took a step towards his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist, as she wrapped hers around his neck. she could feel the bouquet against her back, and the two of them just seemed to just move side to side a little.

"thank you for being here," he whispered in her ear.

"where else would i be?" she whispered back.

he pressed a kiss against her neck, before he pulled back and kissed her once. just a little peck of i love you.

smiling, she slid her hand down to his heart, and said, "you did it."

he smiled, "we did it."

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

"what are these?"

"petals,"

"i see that, lando. where are they from?"

"a petal from every flower you've gifted me this year,"

"you saved them?"

"of course."

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧����𓍊

fun fact: the spain gp on 2024 was on my birthday! anyways, i feel like this got a little repetitive, but like, if kando was real, i'd buy him flowers all the time! i probably have messed up somewhere with the details, but i'm too far gone to make edits. sorry 🤷‍♀️ lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[localceilingdevil]

tested out the arcane art style for funsies :]

they're looking a little creepy but i did enjoy rendering!!! will probably redo them sometime when I'm not so bad with realism lol

[sugudoe]

᭡ ★ ׁ ׅ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐒 ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ᝰ gojo satoru used to be a lonely child, that was until you started to be there for him — to hear his complains, to run away from the clan for a few hours, and to decorate his hair with flowers. you are his most sacred person, he is your most loved one.

ᡴꪫ a/n: bring me back my man, gege!!! this was inspired by the confirmation he would sneak away from home and this, he would’ve been a mama’s boy. @emilyywhyy. using new tag, masterlist.

ᡴꪫ c/w: child!gojo, teen!gojo \\ child!reader, teen!reader \\ fluff and angst \\ bittersweet ending, but happy. \\ gender neutral!reader \\ 1.3k words.

They say the day Gojo Satoru was born, the balance of the world shifted. Everyone would stare at him with reverence, as if he was a a saint and the gift from the gods, when in fact he was a martyr, born to suffer. For you, though, he was just a boy — just your Satoru.

You had been by his side for a long time, being born in a world where his presence was constant, just a couple months older than you. You father was an experienced teacher for the clan, and your mother their most loyal historian. Both of them had been tasked with helping Gojo to understand his powers and control it, and you, always so curious, stayed by their side. Quietly and cautious, staring at him.

White hair, blue eyes, stoic face and strange ways. Sometimes, too rude, others, too playful. Inside of him there were two personalities in constant crash, one that longed to be just a child and other that was meant to be the strongest.

He envied you for many reasons. You could play with the other children, your tasks seemed less rough than his, and… Oh, he envied how loved you were by your parents. When you would accompany him in one of his classes, arriving in your messy hair and dirty kimono for playing too much, eyes filled with happiness and your parents would beam at you, they lovely child.

Would they have sold you, had you been the strongest of your family? Or would they have fought? How much money, status and power would it take for any good person in this world to be corrupted?

Satoru didn’t want to know the answer to those questions, he likes you and your parents that way — warm hugs and sweet kisses. Never would Satoru trade places with you, for him, you were so pure to deal with what he has been going through.

You were the one to approach him first, finding him hiding between the trees that surrounded the clan’s houses, tears guarded by his hands, and he was betrayed by his trembling shoulders.

“Why are you crying?” You stepped closer very slowly, as if approaching a scared animal.

“I want to go home.” Satoru answers, making your small child mind wander what he meant. Isn’t this the Gojo’s lands? “I want my mommy.”

Oh.

Even naive as you were, you understood right away. You have seen her before, one of the most beautiful woman you have ever met. Quiet, walking around the gardens, her pale skin in contrast with the roses, but everything about her and around seems dull. Maybe it’s the lack of her child that makes her like this. No money in the world could replace it, and she was only a woman in a world controlled by men. Her wishes and demands wouldn’t be heard, never.

“Sometimes, they let us see each other.” You are putting daffodils on Satoru’s hair when he starts talking again. “She pretends she is fine, and tells me how proud she is. Her hugs are longer each time, and the meetings are less as well.”

“And how about your dad?” You ask, when he is the one decorating your hair with trembling fingers.

“He…” Satoru sighs. “He is just there. Tells me to listen to the maesters, to your father. That one day I’ll make everyone proud, and be the strongest.”

“I’m proud of you.” You feel the need to say it, so you do. And maybe, it’s what you had to do, Satoru smiles slightly, before raising to his feet and grabbing you with him. He starts to run in a direction you have never been before. “Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” You do. That moment and every moment forward, you would trust Gojo.

You both arrived in the city after an hour of walking and running, babbling about your favorites everything.

His favorite animal is a dog, but he can’t have one. His favorite food is taiyaki, but he never tasted it. And, his favorite color, he stops to think and stare at you for a while, before going with the one you think looks exactly as your eyes. You tell him yours, and that you both can fix all his curiosities, right now.

With your little purses, coins clicking inside as you run through the streets, buying whatever he needs and has never experienced before, Satoru learns that he doesn’t like taiyaki, rather he finds his favorite being Kikufuku.

Sharing a strawberry ice cream, Gojo halts his movements, and you sense something coming from him — it’s what makes him being called the stronger one, the so long awaited hero. Like gravity has gone away, and the sky is falling on top of you, ready to crush everything.

“They are watching us. Let’s go home.” Had he been alone, that wouldn’t bother him, but you were still innocent, not yet developed your technique.

So, with daffodils still in your heads, you both return home to disapproving looks and a stomach filled with sugar.

Inside the groves, a tradition was born. If the weight of the world became too much to bear, Satoru would find you there. You always knew when he needed you the most, like a calling only you could sense. It burned in your chest until you reached him, and in front of Gojo, you would pick flowers and decorate his wild hair with it, or teach him how to make flower crowns or… rings.

“I wish I could burn this whole place to the ground.” He says once, while admiring the petals on your finger, he proudly made. Anger had been his friend for a while now, when he learned he would go to Jujutsu tech. He was happy and scared, and already missing you. “Except you, of course, and your parents, and my mom and… and this woods. This is ours, right?”

“Yes, ‘Toru. This is ours.” You hold his cold face with your other hand, while smiling calmly. “It will always be ours.” Closing the gap, you rest your head on his. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’m not going away forever. It feels like it, but I’ll be back, every weekend, I promise. And… I could exchange to the Kyoto school.”

“No, Satoru. You need freedom.”

“I need you as well.” He counterparts. “I’ll never be free from the expectations of the world, we could, at least, be stuck together.” He is nearly crying again.

“They won’t accept me, my cursed technique is nothing too special.” You sigh, falling in the grass, and he goes behind.

“I disagree. You will see, they will come begging for you, and you will tell them to go fu…” You raise your hands to his mouth, giggling as if you were seven, and not a nearly fifteen years old girl. “I’ll make them come for you, and if they don’t, I will. I’ll always come to you, and our daffodils.”

And indeed, he does. He comes for you months later, accompanied by two other kids and round sunglasses you’ve never seen before. Gojo Satoru comes for you, to grab your hands, pack your clothes, kiss his mothers cheeks knowing that won’t ever happen again, even if he wants so much.

She tells she is proud of him, his father tell him he is nearly there. Gojo wonders what would be enough to be enough. He tries not to care, inside the car with you, hands interlocked, jokes being shared and daffodils, always them, on both your heads and fingers.

You’re proud of him, and he is nowhere near his freedom, but the responsibilities feel less strong, his sadness less real. You’re here, always will be.

﹙⠀ ᭡ ࣪˖ 🍋.⠀﹚ 20243008⠀─┈ ⭑⠀ ͏͏

[7s3ven]

ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”

Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh)

—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.

He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.

The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.

The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.

Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.

This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.

“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.

“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.

“Y/N.”

Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.

Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”

Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.

He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.

“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.

Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.

The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.

“He talked about me?”

“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.

“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.

“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.

“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.

“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.

“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.

“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.

“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.

“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.

“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.

Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.

Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.

Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.

“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.

“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.

“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.

“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.

“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.

“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.

As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.

Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.

Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”

“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.

“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.

Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?

Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.

“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.

“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”

From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.

Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.

“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.

“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.

“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”

“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”

“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”

“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.

It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.

“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.

“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend

The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.

Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.

Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.

“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.

“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”

“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.

“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.

Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.

Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.

“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.

“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”

From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.

“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”

“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.

“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”

“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”

“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.

“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”

From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.

“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.

“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.

“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.

Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.

“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.

“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.

“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”

“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.

“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.

“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.

Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.

“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.

“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”

Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”

“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.

“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.

“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.

Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.

“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”

Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?

“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.

“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”

“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”

“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.

“I don’t care about her.”

“What about the drinks?”

“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”

“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”

“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

“And if she never wants to learn?”

“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.

Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”

Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”

To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.

That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.

“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.

“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.

“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”

“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.

“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”

“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”

“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.

“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.

“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”

“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.

Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.

Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.

“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.

He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.

If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.

Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”

“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.

“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”

She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.

“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”

Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.

“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”

“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”

“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.

“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”

Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.

“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.

“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.

“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.

“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.

“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.

“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”

“I needed an excuse to get away.”

“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”

“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”

“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.

“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”

It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.

Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.

“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”

“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”

Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.

“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.

“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.

“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.

There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.

Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”

Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.

He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.

“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.

“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.

“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.

“And you need me to something stupid?”

Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.

Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”

Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.

“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.

“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.

“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”

Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.

“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”

Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”

“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”

Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.

“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.

“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”

Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.

“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.

With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.

She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.

“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.

“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.

“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”

Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.

“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.

“I study.”

“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”

“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.

Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”

Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.

“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.

“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.

Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”

“You still upset with me, love?”

“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.

He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.

“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.

He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”

“You noticed all of that… about me?”

“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”

“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?

“I do.”

“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.

“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.

“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What about the cat, Theo?”

“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”

“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.

“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”

[dreaming-tonite]

The Necessity of Old-School Dating

— A relationship should start with flowers and a proper confession.

A/N: I just finished x-men 97 and my crush on Kurt when I was like 15 came back in full force. Like, you cannot tell me this man would not go to lengths trying to charm you.

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x reader

Warning: (1) German pet name in the feminine form that hopefully will not ruin this for any German speakers

Word count: ~1.5k

When Kurt Wagner was in love with you, the entire world would know.

He had a lot of love to give, knocking people off their feet (quite literally) when he made his sudden appearances and tackled his friends with full-body hugs. But with you, he was always more careful. While he made no hesitation in finding his way to you in a puff of purple smoke the second he saw you, he always landed just a step away from you.

He grinned ear to ear, glowing eyes curled into thin moons just at the sight of you. His body leaned towards you slightly, aching to be close to you but restraining himself until you reached out for him first. The heat radiating off his body tempted you to close your eyes and allow your mind to sink into his embrace when he immediately pulled you in after getting the go-ahead.

“It is good to see you.” His voice was soft in your ear, the vibrations from his chest seeping into your skin.

He made sure to tell you that every time, even though he must be aware that you already knew how often he told you that. But to him, it was important that you hear it from him.

Kurt never pulls away until you do and the lingering of his touch on your back when he does always leaves your skin tingling.

A true gentleman but with a trickster’s spirit nonetheless. Your back bumped into his anticipating tail, respectfully curved around your form. You gasped when it presented you with a bunch of flowers that he seemingly pulled out of nowhere, the end of his tail holding at the stems.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” you sheepishly said, “today is not even anything special!”

“I like that they make you happy,” he mused, his gaze so soft that it made your face burn, “is that not enough of a reason?”

“They make me very happy,” you smiled and took the bouquet, his tail gently recoiling from behind you to sit neatly against its owner. You pressed the flowers against your chest, the faint scent of petals tucking at your senses, “Thank you, Kurt.”

You did not remember a moment when your room was void of flowers since the very first time he ever gave you any (in fact, you did not even have a vase before that and now it was reserved specifically for flowers he brought you). Some days it was a properly wrapped bouquet, some times it seemed he just saw a daisy on his way and plucked it when he thought of you.

It was a fluttering feeling to be treated special, to have someone show you that you were always on their mind. As much as it was a sweet gesture, it sure was a smart one too. Flowers sitting at the corner of your room reminded you of him whenever your gaze flickered towards them, and it brought a smile to your face whether you intended to or not.

("That brother of mine sure got you smitten for him, doesn't he?"

The sugar-sweet voice broke you out of your trance and you subconsciously stopped toying with the daffodil you had been twirling between your fingers. "I have no idea what you are talking about," you quipped, avoiding Anna-Marie's amused stare.

"Why, is that so?" she crossed her arms in front of her chest in fake thoughtfulness before it broke into a smirk, "Then care to explain what is so special about some little flower that it got you smiling like a fool?"

Your eyes went wide, the smile on your face that you weren't even aware was there dropping in an instant as the realisation hit you in full force.

"Sugar," she said, a loop-sided grin tucked at the corner of her lips, "I know the look of someone in love when I see one.")

They said that if their heart was in the right place then you would never doubt, and he made sure that his intentions were clear from the very moment you caught his eye.

He remembered things you said in passing, asked you to go out for dinners and subtly took note of items your eyes lingered on when you passed by store windows even before there was a proper label to your connection.

Kurt always managed to find excuses to take the long route when he walked with you back to the school. Sure, he could, and usually would, skip the unnecessary process of walking. But the minutes that were saved would be a waste of precious time he could spend with you.

The world was quiet and all was good in these rare moments when you were alone, talking about nothing and everything and all that fell between. He fell a little bit more in love every time you laughed as if his heart was not already threatening to burst out of his chest. He preened in moments like this, standing a little taller and a little closer to you until your shoulders nearly bumped with each slow stride.

And if the knuckle of your fingers happened to brush against his, then he would allow himself to be a bit bold under the disguise of the starry sky to hold your hand.

Kurt was a true believer in the importance of proper courting, putting in the effort and letting the effort be felt. But as much as he enjoyed the tip-toeing and the words that were left unsaid, there came moments when the passion was too much to bear.

It was a night much like any other. You had thought that things were going well, there was laughter and he was being his usual charming self until the two of you started heading back. Under the silver moonlight, he was... quiet. Your gaze flickered towards him in concern but seemingly, he was too deep in his thoughts to notice.

So instead of speaking, you reached for his hand and his walls came crumbling down.

"I wanted to take things slow so that you could consider if my affections, my— my love is worthy for you." He blurted out, accent thicker than usual in a moment of vulnerability. "But recently, I have been plagued by my own selfishness, that the more you have allowed me in your life, the more I crave to have you all to myself."

"Ah, entschuldige, I am rambling," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling and guiding your hand so that he faced you properly. You reached out to hold his face and he leaned into the touch, sighing in content at the contact and all the more certain that close could never be close enough when it came to you.

"I like to think that any relationship, any romance, should start with flowers and a proper confession, and you deserve nothing less." he paused, his hand reaching up to hold yours firmly. "My heart is in your hands, mein liebe."

Time stopped, and all was still.

The thudding of your heart was the only thing in your ear as he waited for your answer with bated breath.

The first touch was so light he could barely feel it. Your body reacted before your mind could keep up and at the first brush of your cupid's bow against his lips, perhaps the bravest thing you had ever done even though you had been on literal battlefields, your reason immediately got ahold of the better of you. But before you could start to pull away, doubt and logic melted into a puddle when he crashed into you, strong arms holding you firmly as he returned the kiss with one much deeper than the one before.

He kissed you again, and again, getting light-headed when you pressed your palm flat against his chest and kissed him back every single time.

You gasped when you suddenly felt the ground disappearing from under your feet, purple smoke blurring your vision and your feet stumbling when gravity weighted you down once more. Kurt didn't seem to notice it at all, too drunk in having your body flushed against his.

Bamf, bamf, bamf. You nearly stumbled when you landed one last time, his hand finding its way to hold you by the small of your back before you could fall.

He was out of breath and if you could see under the blue fur of his cheeks you were sure he must be blushing like mad. Still heaving, he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Forgive me, I lost control of myself," he closed his eyes, the tip of his nose touching yours, "you have no idea how happy you make me."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you decided that a proper confession deserved a proper answer.

"I love you," you said, "it would be a blessing to call you mine."

He chuckled before leaning in once more, this time soft and tender.

"And me, yours."

[fatliberation]

Freddie Mercury was bisexual though

Nope, this is false! 🏳️‍🌈 Freddie was gay, there’s a lot of misinformation out there about his non-existent affairs with women, and much of it can be chalked up to a shit biographer named Lesley Ann Jones (aka my arch nemesis).

I've been deeply fascinated by Freddie Mercury and studying his personal life for years and years so excuse the following infodump (or jump in for a queer history lesson!)

Contrary to popular belief, Freddie was an out gay man. “Gay as a daffodil, my dear!” He’s clearly stated his sexuality in a handful of interviews; “I’ve done all that but I’m gay. Mary was my last woman.” (This interview was removed from youtube but you can find it mentioned in Freddie Mercury: A Life, in His Own Words which is a compilation of his actual quotes from interviews over the years.) Those statements got buried from the media in favor of promoting his more promiscuous quotes like "Darling, I'm doing everything with everybody." (Journalists LOVE to include this quote when talking about his AIDS...) He did purposely retain an aura of mystique around his sexuality, especially because it was much safer (trendy, even) for musicians to flirt with bisexuality than to be homosexual back then.

Here's a quote from Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, Freddie's personal assistant of twelve years, close friend, and "agony aunt" in his memoir, Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir by the Man Who Knew Him Best:

"When the interview appeared, it was half the length that he imagined it would be. When confronted, Judy Wade said that it would have been impossible to have printed the whole text. She said she was holding back for his benefit, not for hers. Admissions such as, ‘I'm just going for a line and I'll be back in half-a-minute,’ would not have done anyone any good. However, she was fully prepared to underline in her second sentence that admission of being a fully 'out' gay man, although this does not lay the later myth which was popular which claimed that Freddie had never admitted his gayness."

Freddie's close friend Thor Arnold, a gay man and member of the "New York Daughters" (Freddie's gay friend group in NYC, of course Freddie was "mother!") corrected misinformation when fans on the Queenzone forum argued that Freddie was bi:

"Freddie NEVER tried to hide to his friends that he was TOTALLY gay. In his industry, he had to hide it to some extent although as I have said before, he certainly gave clues. This is the same man who came up with the name QUEEN for his band. This is the man who dressed very sexually, ambiguously 'glam' up until 1980. This is the man who threw an Easter bonnet party and had us all create Easter hats. This is the man who used the term darling (or Dahling) more than he used proper names, and renamed his friends with old actresses names (…) I've never seen Freddie look twice at a woman but I have seen him look 3 or 4 times at an attractive man and say, 'Thor, Thor... Oh just look at him... Just gorgeous. I'd love some of THAT' We were genuine friends of Freddie and he would never hide that he was really bi. FREDDIE WAS A GAY MAN through and through...everyone...please get used to it."

LAJ, the biographer I previously mentioned, worked VERY hard to straight-wash Freddie in her book by erasing his gay relationships. She was obsessed with his relationship with Mary Austin and is the main reason modern journalists consider Freddie to have been in profound, romantic love with her his whole life. In reality, they dated for a few years in the 70s and remained close friends after they split up (because Freddie was having affairs with his boyfriend). However, he did rely on her as his "beard" to keep up with appearances for the press.

LAJ completely skipped over Freddie's first official boyfriend, saying it was "a covert fling with a young theatre." His name was David Minns. Freddie loved him so much he left Mary to be with him. They were in a serious relationship for three years.

If you're a Freddie fan, you're familiar with Mary's story of him coming out to her, saying "I think I'm bisexual," and her response, "I think you're gay." This story is probably not the truth. Mary has been very inconsistent with her story of how Freddie came out to her.

Another version she told for BBC Radio:

"I don’t know what sparked the conversation. But I remember standing in the kitchen and he was trying desperately to articulate how he was feeling, and his lifestyle and I just said, 'so you are telling me you're gay?' And he just smiled and 'we'll take it as a yes, you know, we'll leave it at that.' And that was it, it has been a long road getting to that point."

Honestly, I am a bit mistrustful of Mary Austin's intentions in general. If you're curious as to why, this post is a good primer on the ways she might have betrayed Freddie's wishes, namely being cruel to his chosen family after his passing.

Freddie only had one other girlfriend before Mary in college, Rosemary Pearson. When asked about Freddie on ITV's This Morning show, she said that he was more interested in her male friends than in her, and she suspected then that he was gay. This was in the 60s.

LAJ refers to his relationships with women throughout her book, but she doesn't list any names. That's because they don't exist. I could name at least seven of Freddie's boyfriends off of the top of my head. Minnsy. Joe Fanelli. Tony Bastin. Vince the Barman. Bill Reid. Winnie Kirchberger. And of course, his husband Jim Hutton, whom he spent the last six years of his life with.

There is one name that LAJ has chosen to platform and exaggerate her importance, and that's German pornstar Barbara Valentin. If you've heard of her, you might think she had a relationship with Freddie in the 80s, you might have heard the story where he had wild threesomes with her, that they lived together, that he even proposed to her. Not one word of it is true. Freddie hung around Barbara during his time in Munich because she was his 'in' to gay clubs and cocaine dealers. She also served as his English translator and conveniently, another beard for the press.

Not a single person in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone:

“In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time… Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns… about the relationship between him and Barbara… After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.”

(He was actually living with his Bavarian boyfriend of the time, Winnie Kirchberger.) Freddie stopped seeing Barbara after he found out she was gossiping about being his lover and these stories started appearing in the newspapers. Barbara continued these lies after Freddie's death, making up ludicrous lies like how Freddie tried to kill her by smothering her with a pillow?? She also claimed that he put her at risk of contracting AIDS by having sex with her after his diagnosis in 1987, which is the lie that burns the most. Freddie stopped having sex altogether before his diagnosis because he was terrified of contracting it. Before there was any information of how it was transferred, he showered compulsively. There is such a fucked up narrative that Freddie threw caution to the wind and wasn't careful during the epidemic, that it somehow fits this twisted narrative that his death was a result of his immoral lifestyle. That's the pervasive homophobia that stained the Bohemian Rhapsody biopic.

LAJ is one of those biographers who publishes their books after the celebrity has died, so they wouldn’t be able to deny the information being written in the book. So if there's anything to learn here, is that you can't always trust a biography!

Anyway, Freddie was gay as a daffodil my dears, and he deserved better.

[l0standn0tf0und]

damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes

george weasley x fem!reader (hints on short!bookworm!fem!reader)

words| +- 4400

in short|  classic story. George falls in love with his best friend. nothing more and nothing less

warnings| my english, angst, fluffy ending, mention of sex and long ranting about George's feelings

author’s note| it's supposed to be a short one. About 1000 words or so, but I got excited. and well, I tried to make it George's pov. because, you know, ✨️his pov✨️. also, it's my first scribbling in two years. enjoy))

He has been with other girls. He'd even said he has been with a lot of other girls.

There were a couple of girls he dated for a while. There were those he just fucked with. A quickie after a Quidditch match won't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter whether he won this match or not. He's well aware of the fact, that girls like him. But none of these so-called relationships were serious. Perhaps this was because he didn't consider any of them as something serious.

He tried this relationship thing because he was curious, what it's like to date a girl. But during his dates, bringing a cup, all painted with tiny violets, to his lips and listening to the chatter of his now ex-girlfriend, he thought that she'd never say such a thing and she'd never order such a lusciously sweet cupcake. And she wouldn't have dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place.

After smashing Hufflepuff to smithereens on the Quidditch field, he pressed some Ravenclaw's back to one of the walls in the locker room, pounding deep into her, hearing this girl's moans become louder with each thrust. He caught himself thinking about what her moans would sound like. Would she be filthy and loud underneath him or her moans would be more shaky and soft?

He wouldn't say any of these girls were bad, unattractive, or something like that. Just the opposite, all of them were great. But they simply weren't…her. She got deep under his skin, intertwined with his veins, and blossomed in his lungs. She was his Flower. That's how he called her.

George remembers clearly well how it started. No, not his feelings, they started so naturally, that he didn't even notice how he fell for her. George remembers clearly well how he started calling her flower. This happened back in the second year, during History of Magic. He was getting more and more bored by the second in that stuffy classroom. And there was nothing unusual about it. He got bored very easily. So he quietly began scribbling in the corner of her parchment. He remembers the angry look little Y/N gave him as she carefully pushed her piece of paper away from the redhead. She was also bored but did her best to focus on Professor Binns' words. But George continued, all smiling and trying to stifle his giggles caused by her irritation. At some point, his incomprehensible doodles began to look like something that resembled Professor Binns, but his glasses and mustache were abnormally large compared to everything else. She smiled, took George's hand, and carefully drew a tiny flower on his wrist, before returning her attention to Professor. It took him a while to find out what exactly she drew with so neat lines. It looked like an iris or daffodil, he couldn't tell exactly and she didn't know either. But after that she became flower. His flower.

And now George is sitting in the library. He came here to at least start an essay on Potions. Snape become ruthless lately, so it was easier to work in a group on this 5-page assignment about Golpalott's Third Law. That's how he, Y/N, Fred, and Lee ended up in the library. George knew that this was one of her favorite places at Hogwarts. Two and a half hours earlier, when they had passed Madam Pince's stern gaze, he almost unconsciously walked to her favorite table, between the Poetry and Reference sections.

George's re-reading the same sentence in the book for the seventh time. There's something about the idea that a whole product is greater than the sum of its parts, but he can't really understand its meaning because he's thinking about her. It would be more accurate to say that he's thinking about what Lee and Fred had said about her. The evening before, his twin, the only person in this world who was closer to George than Y/N, again claimed that his love was mutual. Fred constantly tried to push him to confess his feelings. His argumentation was always the same. Fred said that he’s older, which means wiser, and he sees everything, how she steals glances at his little shy brother in classes and how she blushes just as much when George is near. But that evening, Lee has added some new information, which George still tries to process and connects with everything else these two have been telling him through the years.

George returns to yesterday in his thoughts. He was lying on his bed again, hopelessly pressing his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, while these two opened the Pandora's box again. Sometimes it seemed to George that they were enjoying this ranting about his 'unrequited' love situation over and over again.

"Ok, look, if she felt nothing but platonic stuff, she'd not be this frustrated when she found out about you and Jane" Lee spoke in a devious voice, getting more comfortable on his bed.

"Wasn't it Jade?" Fred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Doesn't matter, I mean this Hufflepuff blondie with the ribbon"

"She's Janis" George sighed. He remembered this relationship, which lasted just over a month or so. Janis was nice, but she talked a bit too much. And this black ribbon, which she constantly wore as a headband, pissed him off. He admitted that the ribbon matched well with her uniform and emphasized the brightness of her hair. But something was wrong with it.

"I thought she was Jade"

"Anyway, why are you telling me about this now?" curiosity and a slight note of annoyance were noticeable in George's voice "It was quite a long ago."

"Look, mate. I'm your friend, right?" Lee sat down, crossed his legs, and the blanket crumpled under his weight. One more movement and the red piece of cloth would end up on the floor. "But I'm her friend as well. She knows that I know. And knows that I overheard that conversation of hers. And I promised, I won't blab it to you…But as it turns out, I'm not the best secret keeper and I'm more of a friend to you than to Y/N"

To tell the truth, Lee was a great secret keeper. Just like he was a great friend. This made George seriously wonder why Lee broke the promise. And so unceremoniously 'blabbed' everything to him. What if he's really as blind as he was told and doesn't see obvious things. He doesn't deny the possibility that she liked him too. More precisely, he doesn't want to deny it. He hopes that Y/N also feels something that crosses the boundaries of friendship. Even if her feelings aren't as strong and all-consuming as his. As if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed every time George sees her. He hopes for at least something, for at least a tiny feeling, a tiny sparkle in her heart that flares up at the sight of the tall redhead.

Many times he imagined and replayed in his head the moment he would confess his feelings. Tell her how all the sounds around become quiet when he hears her laugh, how each and every touch imprints and burns on his skin. He dreamed, how he would tell how much he loved her, that he could finally be honest and reveal everything that was in his head and heart.

But the younger twin thinks the stakes are too high. And maybe he's right because she thinks the same thing to herself. Even though George wants more, he doesn't want to risk everything he has right now. His eyes begin to water and a lump rises in his throat every time he assumes he could lose Y/N. His flower. He knows her too well to predict what would happen next if his feelings weren't mutual. Their communication will become awkward, they both will be cautious and afraid of saying or doing something wrong. And then, after some time of this weird communication, their connection will fade away. And even if his love is mutual, what if he and Y/N don’t work out as a couple? What then?

He can't let their previous and future years of friendship go down the drain. Y/N was the first person he and Fred met on the Hogwarts Express. And from the very first year and the very first greeting, the three of them became inseparable. Always together.

She wanted to be a prefect, so she avoided detentions and tried not to get involved in their pranks directly. But Y/N was always there, helped to plan each of their mischiefs, assisted with new inventions, and saved him and his brother from professors. George can't remember how many times she rescued them from Filch while she was patrolling the corridors. He was so proud of her last year when she finally received this little silver pin that gave her extra authority and responsibilities.

George can't imagine Christmas without Y/N now. She visits the Burrow every year and his mom adores her. Perhaps because Y/N helps with cooking more than anyone else in this house. But George can imagine in detail how hard his mother would scold him if he suddenly announce that Y/N won't come for winter break this year because he's an idiot and they stopped talking to each other.

It's not Christmas without having a snowball fight with her and Fred in the backyard. At some point, she always tries to throw Fred into the snow. But due to the obvious height difference and Fred's strength privilege, she never succeeds in this. So she's becoming the one who's giggling on the ground, covered with snow. George always laughs at this little performance while his very kind twin scatters her down with even more snow.

George's envious of his brother in some way. Fred has never seen Y/N as more than a friend or a second sister. He's envious that his twin's heart doesn't ache as much as his does. And his older brother doesn't have to make such a difficult decision. No, George doesn't wish his brother pain. No way. He just doesn't want to suffer himself. George understands, that he's not just at risk of losing her, but also at risk of depriving Fred of his best friend too. If he and Y/N don't work out, what will happen to her friendship with Fred? Yes, perhaps they will be able to maintain some thread of communication. But they certainly won’t be best friends like they are now. George wouldn't handle it. He believes that it's better to be content with the small moments he has than to lose everything.

"Where are you going?" Fred's question snaps the younger twin out of his thoughts. He's still in the library and didn’t even notice how the chair next to him became empty, as Y/N headed towards one of the sections.

“I need this book, about…” her words meet Fred's raised eyebrows "I just need another book"

A quiet “uh-huh,” sounds either from Fred or Lee as her back is already hidden between the shelves full of colorful covers.

George looks for a while longer after Y/N. If someone raised their head from studies or books and glanced at the redhead, they would see the gears turning in his head.

“I…” George moves away from the table. Legs of the chair slide across the floor with a quiet rustle. He tries to come up with some kind of a reason, but Lee is faster.

“We got it, loverboy in shining armor, go already and help your princess” In response George groanes, and a quiet "fuck off" slips from his lips as he heads after his 'princess'. He doesn't know why he decided to follow Y/N. He just wants to. Perhaps he simply feels calmer when she's around, she gives him a feeling of warmth and home just by being near.

And there she is, just three bookshelves away. George can understand why she likes spending time in the library, although he doesn't share this sympathy. It's quiet and peaceful here. High ceilings, impressive columns, and alive stained glass windows are throughout Hogwarts, but they look especially charming in this place. Perhaps it's the specific lighting or the huge number of cabinets filled with old parchment and colored bindings. And, to be honest, he likes the smell of books. There is something about that scent that the redhead can't explain.

Y/N walks along the shelf at the end of the bookrack. Her gaze runs along the top row of colored spines, searching for what she needs. Her hair is up in a messy, almost domestic, bun and secured with a wand. But some strands fell down, framing her face and descending down her neck. The tie hangs loosely around her neck. She undid it after half an hour in the library.

George just stands there and admires her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. It seems to him as if a soft golden glow surrounds each curve of her glorious body. And this light calls him to come closer. None of the other girls looked like her in his eyes. He swallows, breaks out of this perfect trance, and quietly heads to her.

The girl stands on the very tips of her black shiny shoes. Her fingers almost touch that very book on the top shelf. "Why the hell do they always shove the most useful stuff so far away?" Y/N thinks to herself before long fingers touch the cover of the "Ingredient Encyclopedia". She sees as right above her head a familiar freckled hand takes the faded green binding from its place.

"You're welcome, flower" Y/N turns around at the sound of the voice and finds herself trapped between the worn books and George.

The corners of his lips lift slightly and the younger twin can feel the warmth approaching his cheeks. He can't control it and, to be honest, he doesn't care when she's only millimeters away.

Her "Thank you" is so quiet that George isn't sure she actually said it. Their eyes meet, and it seems to redhead that everything that happened next was in slow motion.

She just wanted to take the book. Such an innocent action. She inhales sharply as her fingertips accidentally brush his hand. He feels high-voltage sparks come from this touch and spread further throughout his whole body and explode where his heart is.

They both froze, not breathing and not breaking an eye contact. George could swear he was ready to give everything he had to live in this moment forever. Just standing next to her in an empty section of the Hogwarts library. Looking into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. And feel the warmth radiating from her hand on his.

Earlier, he thought he'd be nervous at a moment like this but he isn't. He just stares at her eyes, then at her parted lips. "George, don’t do it" he repeats to himself. His fingers shudder imperceptibly with the thought of taking her wand from messy hair, so her locks would fall freely on her fragile shoulders. "Control yourself". He's trying, so damn hard trying not to bury his hands into these shiny strands and pull her into a kiss. It takes all his strength not to. And George doesn't know what happened. Was it Y/N's rosy blush and his brother's words about mutuality flashing through his head. Was it her, standing so close that he could smell his amortentia coming from the girl.

But he gives up. George bends down, without even thinking about it, and presses his lips to hers

George pulls away even faster than he has leaned toward her. There is exposed fear in his widely opened eyes. Eyebrows are raised as the realization crushes his thoughts. His mouth opens and closes without making any sound. It seems that he's more shocked by his own action than Y/N herself.

He fucked up. He knows it.

Y\N stands there still. And this is the first time in the redhead's life that he can't read the emotions of his best friend. "Ingredient Encyclopedia" is still in her palm, but George abruptly pulls his hand away, losing all the warmth she provided to him.

"I'm…I'm sorry" is the only thing he mumbles before storming away from the book section, from the library, from her.

George almost knocks down a first-year with a blue tie when he rushes out around the corner. He fucked up. Y/N didn’t respond to his kiss, she didn’t react at all. She just froze in place. George doesn't understand how he could let himself do this. He shouldn't have. He heads towards the huge wooden door with such speed that some students' parchments fly off their desks. He doesn't notice this, nor the questions from Fred and Lee, that meet his broad back, nor the comments of the furious Madam Pince.

She appears around the corner shortly after George, calling his name. She throws the book on the table and quickly walks past her friends. The faded green binding slides across the wooden surface and lands near Lee's inkpot. Another millimeter and the small glass jar would have been knocked down and poured a black liquid onto the pieces of parchment, only half written with essay.

"For Merlin's sake, what is going on?"

“I'll bet you a galleon that George confessed to her and ran away” Fred speaks with a sly grin, shifting his gaze from the hurrying Y/N to his dormmate.

"Too much drama for these two, don't you think?"

"So…?"

"You're on" Lee agrees, moving the book away from his writings. He only managed to write the introduction and the beginning of the first few theses. It was far from 5 pages but it was at least something and definitely more than George wrote.

George walks through the library entrance. He feels like everything is crumbling inside him as he walks. The sound of his heart pounding in the ears muffles the voice calling his name somewhere behind the back.

"George!…"

He is supposed to be happy. He finally did what he had dreamed of for many years. He finally kissed the girl he was so hopelessly in love with. But instead, he feels as if a dozen Dementors attacked him. All of the hope and happiness have been sucked out of the world.

"George!…"

He'd better get away from here as fast as possible. He'd explain himself later. He'd better get to his safe space. But where should he go if he felt safe only next to her?

"George!….for Merlin's sake!….. I can't keep up with you!"

He recalls everything in his head, from what happened a minute ago to the first time he saw Y\N. He understands that all those happy moments, the tenderness, the memories they both made and the plans for the future, are all gone. He's so disappointed and so angry with himself.

"George!…"

"What?!" He stops and turns around, seeing the girl almost running along the empty corridor of Hogwarts, approaching him.

George heard her calling him. But he's not ready to face the consequences. Not now. He needs time to pull himself back together and come up with something. But he gives up. Again.

"What do you wanna hear, Y|N?!" His hands shoot up in a questioning gesture. "That I'm head over heels in love with you? With your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes! With your damn angelic laughter, which drowns out all other sounds for me! And I even with the way your brows frown when you're concentrated!"

"Georgie…" He doesn't seem to notice her soft voice but continues. She wants to say something, but his confession is unstoppable. And she understands this, so she decides to just let him rant.

"Or do you wanna hear that you became a fixed point in my mind where my thoughts always come back to? That I randomly grin to myself like an idiot when I think about anything related to you. I don't know when exactly I fell for you. But it feels like I've always loved you. You're doing something to me, no one else ever could. You make me feel special and not just another poor Weasley or the second clown of Hogwarts. Every damn time you make me feel important because of who I am and not because I'm the beater or I'm the easiest way to get to Fred." His voice became calmer with each sentence. The irritated raised tone turns into his normal deep timbre, and then it will turn into a soft mumbling. " And you make all of my anxiety and worries turn off just by your presence. I was so fucking angry with myself and you did something I dunno how to explain. So now I can't be this angry. And you are…you are just….you"

She stands next to him. Almost as close as it was back then in the library. Perhaps if George wasn't so nervous, he'd realize that he liked the scent of books because it was her scent. Every time she left the library after spending several hours there, she had this slightest scent on her. It mixed with her perfume and shampoo, so it was impossible to separate and difficult to notice it.

"Are you done?" George doesn't know what to do and just nods his ginger head. Then she rises on her tiptoes and neat fingers finds the collar of his white shirt and pulls it towards her, forcing George to lean forward. Her lips touch his. Again. Only for a few seconds but this makes him blush even more, if it's possible. His freckles aren't this noticeable anymore.

The girl pulls away, the heels of her shoes meet the cold floor and her hands slide onto George's chest. But he continues to stand slightly bent forward, batting his eyelashes. She still has to lift her head slightly to look him in the eyes. In the future, this height difference will piss her off sometimes, but he'll enjoy it endlessly, liking this even more every time.

George stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand what just happened. But he feels that he can breathe again. And somewhere inside, where his soul is, irises and daffodils and all the other flowers start to blossom slowly. Did she really kiss him? But earlier…

"But you've…." His eyebrows furrow as the puzzles are slowly coming together in his head.

"I was taken by surprise" She explains as she watches his face soften, lips rise into a wide grin that he can't stop. And why the hell should he stop it. "And you didn't give me time to understand what's going on"

George covers her hand with his own. That hand that's laying so peacefully on his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, millimeters from her face. She can feel his breath on her lips, like a ghost kiss, dragging the moment before he crushes his lips down on hers into another real one.

Her lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. This kiss is not just a peck, like the previous ones. This time George can understand that her lips are not exactly what he thought. Her lips feel thousands of times better than he could ever imagine. He finally feels relieve and all the world's happiness. All the happiness he supposed to feel. Happiness, that had been accumulating for a long time and didn't leave the palace of his dreams, Finally to escape to freedom. His palms find their place around her waist as he pulls her closer, forcing their bodies to collapse into each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible. Her hands shoot up to his hair, slowly letting her fingers slip into ginger strands. He kisses Y/N like he has never kissed anyone else before. With all the tenderness and love he has kept locked in his heart till this moment. George doesn’t see this, but he feels how the gray world around him is filled with colors again. The warmth spreads all over his body and his brain stops working properly.

This girl, this bright and breathtaking girl, is his. Their lips moved softly, delicately, and almost innocently before. But Y/N is driving him insane and intoxicate him with the sweet smell of her body. He can feel her hand slide to his nape and she lightly runs fingers up along his neck. Tiny soft moans escape his lips in the surprise of the goosebumps this action sent down his body. As a response, George brings up his freckled hands to cup her face. His calloused fingers caress her flushed cheeks as he nibbles her lower lip, not so hard to hurt, but enough for Y/N to feel it. Now it's her turn to let out a small, barely audible moan, which makes him break out into a shit-eating grin.

The girl gently pulls away, while George still holds her face in his warm hands.

"I love you too, Georgie. And your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes"

Bonus:

He lets out a giggle caused by quoting. He's unable to open his eyes for a few moments after this kiss, a huge smile on his face

"But…"

"But…?" The question sounds teasing even though his voice is hoarse.

"We have an essay to finish. It's due tomorrow, and you haven't even written a sentence yet." she wrinkles her nose in a taunting way.

"Nooooo" Redhead lets out a groan, throwing his head back. "Don't make me do this, Flower"

"I won't write it for you" She kisses his pouty lips as a response to the puppy gaze he gave her. Y/N frees herself from his cozy grip and heads towards the library. "You'd better write at least something unless you prefer scrubbing cauldron instead of…let's say…sneaking into Hogsmeade."

George catches up with her a couple of seconds later. He slightly leans down just for a moment to catch her hand in his and intertwine their fingers.

"Y/N…." he tries this 'puppy gaze trick' again.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat "I will help you with a plan and theses, but you will write it yourself."

George breaks into a smile once again and brings her hand to his lips, leaving kisses on her knuckles. Well, the thesis for Someone's Third Law is at least something. Plus, he’s sure that he’s sure Y/N will write his essay as soon as she finishes hers. And, to be honest, Fred's too.

After some time, when they are a meter from the huge wooden door, George suddenly wonders.

"Galleons or Sickles?"

"What?"

"Galleons or Sickles?" He repeats, opening the door in front of Y/N

"Wait, you're wondering how much they bet on us, aren't you?"

George overtakes the girl, ending up in front of her, and leans down so that their eyes are at the same level. He shoves his hands into pockets and wrinkles his nose therefore mocking Y/N's previous actions.

"I'll bet a Galleon that Lee owes Fred a Galleon"

masterpost