#And outdo everyone else

[zahri-melitor]

Yeah no I'm still not cool with the pet situation. A character's pet is for the animal's life, not for [one emotional scene].

Titus makes sense. There have been several generations of Ace the Bat-Hound over the decades. There was at least one when Dick was Robin. There's another when Tim is a young Robin, back in Knightfall era (he hid out in the tunnels with Harold while JPV was Azbats!)

Bruce, trying to win Damian's affection and teach him how to connect and bond with others, to give him a responsibility and someone who will love him unconditionally, getting Damian a dog? Makes 100% sense. He clearly thinks kids should have a dog, they're set up to have a dog, they're familiar with having a dog, particularly large working breeds that protect the property.

And Tomasi & Gleason use Titus several times, in several different comics in the run, for emotional beats.

Alfred the Cat exists entirely for the emotional beat of Alfred giving Damian a cat that swipes at him, then Damian in the next comic 'winning' the cat's affection while feeding him and playing with him, showing as a character the cat (and by parallel Damian) has changed in his time at the Manor. I get the comparison. It's cute, but I don't see the point in doing this immediately before killing Damian, particularly when Titus, who was established earlier, is right there in the scene and doing...nothing.

A similar moment of Damian appearing like a child playing with his puppy and looking innocent could have occurred, and it would feel less like Damian's affection is hoarding and transitive - he can only care about his latest animal, the earlier ones are present but forgotten in the glee for more and newer pets.

Batcow is completely superfluous beyond being a visual joke. Nothing about her holds up in any way.

"Sure, you can keep the cow," says Bruce through his gritted teeth, because he wants his son to like him and not run back to Talia. Despite that being a plot point well established as not likely to happen, as we've been over it before during Reborn and Damian rejected Talia and the League of Assassins, and we're at the start of a story where Damian's going to choose to go to his mother to save Gotham while the rest of the family are desperately trying to protect him from having to face her, because they're worried she'll kill him/end the world.

"Sure, we can have a cow living in the Cave. It's not like we know any farmers with superstrength and flight who could take a meat-raised cow off our hands and care for it in better circumstances, who you could still visit occasionally."

[ikjun]

best song ever made 👍

[rizaposting]

now im fucking thinking of team mustang x riza harem... someone just take me out behind the barn and put me down

[ronanceautistic]

NATALIA DYER AS JENNIFER DRIPS 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥 im making my fan casts for my nsbu script as self indulgent as humanly possible

I'm gonna have the action star actors play their parts, even when it's the real world characters in their bodies. Mainly thinking about the logistics of how physically capable the actors would need to be, especially an elderly woman 😭 but I think it would also be cool to have cutaways every now and then showing their true self. I like the idea of the viewer forgetting these aren't actually capable action heroes, and in moments of doubt - like Dang at the dog fight - showing Dang's self rather than Greg's as a show of vulnerability. That and when the characters talk to them.

Does any of this matter? No. Will I continue thinking about it? Yes.

[xx-justsomeguy-xx]

diluc needs to show up in an event soon bc holy hell he has the least stuff written about him across all my genshin writing

[vitamin-zeeth]

Ohhh I'm so glad Blaine's back his unfiltered unadulterated cringe is like a light in the darkness

[dg-outlaw]

Not to lose the thread, but I think the same is happening with 'Star Wars: The Acolyte', but much worse.

I watch a good amount of TV and movies, across various genres, but I'm also fairly discerning in what I watch. I won't just watch anything, but I'm also not a media snob. I can enjoy a good Marvel movie as much as I can a well-done indie film or BBC mystery show.

And to each their own in what they like or don't like, but I've also studied film and TV, read good books, have written a screenplay, and have written a few pieces of fiction so I understand what makes a good story. Whether it's action/adventure, horror, drama, romance, sci-fi, fantasy, etc. I know what good, bad, great, horrible, and just meh looks like.

All that to say, I don't watch stuff that's a legit 3.5 out of 10. That's not because I see a score on IMDb or Rotten Tomatoes and say, "Nope, not for me." No, it's because I can watch a trailer or read a description and know if it's something I will like or is something that appears to be well executed and will be entertaining within it's genre, even if I don't watch it or read it. Sometimes a movie or show will exceed my expectations, other times it won't, but most of the time it's as good as I expected it to be.

The Acolyte is not a 3.5/10 show.

This season of Doctor Who is not 6.1/10.

I'm enjoying both.

I seriously hope studio execs aren't looking at online trash, review sites that can be easily manipulated/review bombed, and articles (even from legit publications) from angry cishet white boys, and then making decisions on whether to renew shows, make similar content, and/or to continue giving work to the creatives behind these shows.

I've also yet to see any well-written and/or specific critiques of either of these shows that would warrant a low score. Critiques in general, yes, but that's any show or movie and that's why I would say you'd be hard-pressed to find something that's a 10/10. Saying it sucks or it's woke is not a review of it's quality or the storytelling. Calling someone a shill for liking it is also not a legit rebuttal. And that point the only thing I can think of as an appropriate and equal reply is, "your mom's a shill."

Doctor Who has unfortunately been review bombed on IMDb - this is in no way saying people aren’t allowed to criticise the show and people are absolutely allowed to have their own opinions, but unfortunately a lot of the reviews are coming from a private DW group on Facebook who preach racist and homophobic views, and they’ve all collectively decided to review bomb to try and take Doctor Who down. (I’m not in this group, I’ve seen screenshots on X)

If you could spare a minute - and I know it’s a lot of work - but I took two seconds to create an account and wrote a quick, honest review in the hopes of drowning out the blatant hate. I’ll always do whatever to help my little time-travelling show stay safe.

Link here: IMDb

[papasbaseball]

Threads is actually worse than Twitter somehow.

[tinycoffeeroom]

girlfriend of the enemy | charles leclerc

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

tags: max verstappen x reader, thoughts of infidelity, max sucks a lil in this i'm sorry

part 2 | part 3

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You knew the novelty had worn off. Max was known for picking up things that were shiny and brand new to him and dropping them without a moment's notice. You just never thought you would be one of them. The two of you had met in the paddock, you having been invited by your reporter friends. Instantly the two of you had hit it off, chatting the whole night and enjoying each other's company. 

That was 7 years ago. 

Now the two of you were attending the end of the race year celebrations but you may as well be strangers. 

He’d swirled you around his friends, eye candy on his arm to match the fact that his face was plastered across the entire room. After he was sure everyone had seen the two of you together, he subtly brushed your arm off and went to talk with Daniel and Checo who were standing by the bar. 

Taking a seat at one of the tables strewn out across the large dance hall, you picked nervously at the acrylics on your nails. Max knew events like this made you nervous, with the large crowds full of people you barely knew. At the start of your relationship, he never used to leave you alone, constantly having a hand around your waist or resting on your knee so you knew he was there, but it was as if he no longer cared. You hated this side of him, missing the funny and attentive man you fell in love with. 

Drivers passed back and forth behind your chair, often bumping it accidentally as they walked, too deep in conversation with their walking buddy to notice they had knocked you. It had been at least 2 hours since you had seen Max, having watched him stalk off to a dark corner with the two men he was chatting with at the bar. You knew you looked miserable, but you were so tired of hiding how you truly felt, how Max made you feel. 

A hand brushes the back of your chair as someone takes a seat beside you. A soft voice barely audible over the loud music pumping through the room, close enough that their breath brushes across your neck. 

“Not having fun?”

You jump at the proximity, whipping round to come face to face with Max’s longtime frenemy, Charles Leclerc. He simply smiled, either not noticing how close the two of you were or simply ignoring it.  

You’d come to know Charles through the years you’d spent as a wag. He was always polite, full of kind smiles and funny anecdotes. You knew he wasn’t a fan of these things either, choosing to excuse himself early, either with his teammates or Oscar whenever things got a little too raucous. His two closest friends on the grid, Daniel and George, were more open to the party atmosphere, often getting to the point of drunkenness where you had to mother them a little, rounding up the giggling boys and wrestling them into an Uber. 

You loved chatting with the group of friends, never having a dull moment as each of them tried to outdo the other with a joke or a roast. However, you were always a little more drawn to the Monagesque, finding his warm voice and awkward jokes lightened the tension that festered deep inside whenever Max abandoned you at one of these events. 

You smiled back at Charles in the present, toying with the Tiffany bracelet around your wrist. “Not particularly. Never really liked these kind of events.”

If it was anyone else who had asked, you would have lied. Various excuses of not feeling well or simply needing a moment to yourself, but Charles had never once shown judgement towards your lack of enthusiasm for these nights. 

“Where’s Max?” His eyes flick around the room, elbow coming to rest on the bar. He must realise his mistake straight away as he pulls away, the stickiness of the counter following him. 

You sigh, reaching to drain the last of your mojito. “Fuck knows. Last time I saw him was just after 9.” 

He raises his eyebrows, turning to catch the attention of the bar staff. “Another mojito and a vodka soda, please.” Turning back to you, he checks his watch. “It’s 2am.”

You return the eyebrow raise, welcoming the new drink he hands you. “Yeah, it is. He’s probably with Daniel and Checo if you want him.” 

You were used to people approaching you just to get to the other. Nothing new but it still irked you a little that you were only ever seen as an extension of the great Max Verstappen, never just y/n l/n. 

Smiling softly, he raises his glass for you to clink yours against. “Nah, I’m fine where I am.”

–

The hours passed quickly, the two of you hunched over the bar as you tried to make out what the other was saying over the loud bass of the music. You could lie and say your heart didn’t flutter every time he laughed, eyes sparkling as he listened intently to every dumb joke you made. It made you feel a little bit sick, the butterflies in your tummy stabbing tiny little daggers into you as you try to remember the last time Max had ever spent time with you like this. 

He was a busy man, with the racing and Twitch and the various other events Redbull required him to do, the two of you rarely saw each other. You tried to organise monthly date nights in order to reignite the spark you once had but every time Max texted that he couldn’t come, not even mentioning the word sorry, you felt a little piece of your heart fall away. 

Through some kind of sick manifestation, Max rounded the corner of the bar, flagged by a barely conscious Daniel and a still chipper Checo. 

“Charles! Nice to see you!” Checo was his ever lovely self, dapping Charles up and pulling him into a brief hug. Daniel barely acknowledged either of you, slumping into the chair on the other side of you and drunkenly resting his head on the back of your shoulder. Max was neutral, eyes darting between the two of you. 

“Yeah, nice to see you Charles. I see you’ve met my Mrs.”

You hated that term. “Mrs”. Maybe if he showed any kind of interest in actually taking the next step and marrying you after 7 years together maybe you wouldn’t mind. He knew you hated it to some extent, having used it often as a joke in media events to make you roll your eyes and send him a cheeky text. But now the word just grated you, imaginary hackles rising at his standoffish tone. 

Charles smiles at the two, briefly eyeing Daniel from where he was snoring on your shoulder. “Yeah, me and y/n have met quite a few times at these things. Normally when I’m too tired to deal with Daniel and George’s shit.” He aims the last sentence towards you, joining you in a small chuckle. 

Max laughed sarcastically, hand coming to grip your free shoulder. The strength of it made you shrink slightly, hating the possessiveness it held. “Well, it’s getting late, I better get her home.” His head nods down at you, the resignation in his voice a poor attempt at humour but it lands flat. 

Charles eyes him, then the hand gripped harshly on your shoulder and finally lands on you, eyes warm with a tint of ice. “Sure. It was nice to chat to you, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger.” He rises from his seat, hand raised to deliver a half hearted fist bump to Max and Checo before he disappears, swallowed by the horde of people still present at the event. 

You grab your bag as Max shakes the sleeping Daniel on your shoulder. The two of you work side by side to sling an arm of Daniel’s around each of your shoulders, Max thankfully taking the brunt of the weight. Silently, you make your way to Max’s car, humming at the drunken gibberish from the man hanging between the two of you. 

As you settle into the passenger's seat of Max’s car, you can’t help but wish it was Charles sliding in beside you. 

–

👤 maxverstappen1 Liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and 592,048 others

y/nstagram eindejaarsfeest met mijn lief en jouw wereldkampioen ♥️ (end of year party with my love and your world champion)

fan she’s so gorgeous, maxverstappen1 can you fight? ♥️ 39,927 others

redbullracing never mind the trophy, we think you’re the real prize ↳ fan damn admin got rizz ↳ redbullracing 😎

fan why does max never like her photos anymore i miss the “here before the dutchman” jokes ↳ fan they’ve been together 7 years maybe the honeymoon phase has just worn off? ↳ fan idk even when we see them in the paddock he brushes her off all the time  ↳ fan i thought we all agreed to stop prying into their relationship?  ↳ fan true but 7 years and no ring?? I’d have wifed her up immediately 

charles_leclerc si belle ↳ y/nstagram merci charlie :) ↳ fan ariana what are you doing here?  ↳ fan he’s been in her likes / comments since he joined f1, i’m pretty sure they’re friends ↳ fan he always comments “beautiful” or smth sappy on her posts… ngl i kinda ship them ↳ fan saying that on a post where she’s just called max her love… seek help ↳ fan damn sorry that i just wanna see her be treated the way she deserves???? She posts max nearly weekly and the last time she graced his ig was like 6 months back ??? AND he never likes / comments on her posts even when she tags him AND he ignores her in the paddock like all the time ↳ fan he’s a 4x world champion and the face of redbull, he’s a busy man damn 

-

-

Another country, another race, another day of Max ignoring you. You’d always been understanding of the fact that, as the current world champion, he had a lot of pressure on his rather wide shoulders. People called for him wherever he turned and he’d follow, giving piece by piece of him to whoever needed his attention. Race engineers, press, other drivers, even Christian himself. In the earlier years, he’d drag you along with him, hand wrapped firmly around yours as he discussed better ways to reduce drag or answer the same god damn question from the same 10 faces you saw at every race. 

Nowadays, he’d barely look your way as he gets out of the car, instead letting you roam around of your own volition. You often found yourself walking up and down the paddock, looking at all the other drivers who would throw a loving glance to their girlfriends as they rush around their garages, or drop a small kiss to the crown of their heads as they pass by to the back rooms or even something as small as readjusting their stance as they spoke to their engineers so they could press a thigh or an arm against their other half. 

So far you’d passed Alpine; exchanging quick hugs with Kika and Flavy before they went to the back rooms, McLaren; where Lando and you had exchanged a quick fist bump whilst you swiped away his questions about Max’s whereabouts, and Haas where both Kevin and Nico had waved brightly at you as they entertained their children on the garage floor. Looking up, you find yourself standing in front of the Ferrari garages. More specifically, in front of Charles’. 

Whether the halt in your footsteps has been subconscious or not, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping for a glimpse of Charles. Flashes of red passed your vision, engineers and strategists moving amongst one another like a well oiled machine, but no sign of white fireproofs or padded red race suits. 

Sighing softly, you turn on your heels, ready to head back to the Red Bull garages where you’ll inevitably end up being forced into putting on a headset and a fake smile when it’s race time. 

Eyes focused on the ground, you walk slowly away from the Ferrari garages, not wanting to see all the loving couples around you. Only three steps down, a pair of race boots pop up in your vision, eyes trailing up until you meet Charles’ worried gaze. 

“Y/N, what are you doing all the way over here? It’s nearly race time?” His head quirks a little to the left, reminding you of an inquisitive puppy. 

It’s enough to bring a small smile to your face, eyes flicking over his face. “Hey Charles. Honestly, I didn’t even realise I’d made it this far into enemy territory until I looked up and saw your garage.” 

He matches your teasing smile, nudging his foot with one of yours playfully. “I wouldn’t say enemy, just unfamiliar.” He takes a moment to give you a once over, eyes clinging to the ever present furrow of your brows. “Where’s Max?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you huff quietly. “God knows. Last I saw, he was in a very heated debate with GP, something to do with the rear wing.”

He nods in response. “Does he know you’re in enemy territory?” He teases softly, aware of the way your expression darkened at the mention of your boyfriend. 

“I don’t think he would realise if I upped and left to be honest.” The second you said it, you regretted it. Charles has enough to worry about on race day without you piling your relationship problems onto him. “Sorry, ignore me. Must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” You laugh unconvincingly, trying to avoid his knowing eyes. 

He’s quiet for a moment, pensive silence spreading between the two of you. It makes your skin crawl, all too aware that he was probably already clued into your crumbling relationship. You wanted him to make a joke, to nudge his shoulder with yours as he quips about how you should join the other side for once. You wanted him to make you smile, knowing he’s been the only one to do so in so many years. 

A knot sits heavy in your stomach. Wanting another man to make you smile like your boyfriend isn’t standing 20 feet away. Another man who was the best friend of your boyfriend. 

Yours and Max’s relationship wasn’t all arguing and sneaking into bed whilst the other slept far on the other side, but the only times he made you laugh recently was in front of cameras, smiles too large and laughter too loud to be believable to either of you. 

With Charles, it was easy. Almost like breathing. He was still a little awkward with you, jokes sometimes landing flat but the way he would wince and chuckle at his own bad lines were enough to have you laughing loudly and unapologetically. 

You needed to get out of here before you said or did something you’d regret. Luckily, Xavi came to your rescue, spotting Charles out on the paddock and rushing over to sling a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Charles, vamos! We have to get ready for the race. Sorry to steal him from you, Y/N, but I can’t risk him sharing trade secrets with the girlfriend of the enemy.” He pairs the teasing jab with a wink at both of you, the arm hooked around Charles’ neck pulling him gently away. 

Charles’ throws a smile over his shoulder, waving a hand goodbye as he’s dragged into conversation with Xavi. You wave back, energy not quite matching his. 

It was a throwaway comment, something every team said when you’d chat with their racers, normally coupled with a squeeze of the shoulder or a friendly grin. Charles had even said the same thing himself two minutes prior. But something about it being Charles’ race engineer left a sour taste in your mouth. 

To Charles, you were just the girlfriend of the “enemy”, and that’s all you could be. 

-

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n: i swear i'm working on a happier one for charles' monaco win buuuut before i spend another 2 weeks finishing this off - anyone interested in a part 2?

[rawbin-hsr]

Rating HSR characters in relationships

Title is self-explanatory <3

Characters: Boothill, Dr Ratio, Blade, Aventurine (separately)

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

CW: cursing, mostly fluff and some crack

CW Aventurine's part: toxic dynamics, emotional neglect, jealousy, Aventurine in general

Lmk if there's any warnings I should add!

Had to restrain myself on Dr. Ratio I have soo bad brain worms about him rn he’s all I think about

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Boothill

10/10

DO NOT. AT ME. I PROMISE I’VE THOUGHT THIS THROUGH. I know most people who read that will be like “what the fuck Boothill would NOT be a perfect partner” and that’s where you’re right ! No, he would be an awful partner !

For MOST people. 

But see, he wouldn’t be just ANYONE’S partner. 

If you’re dating him, it means you’re exactly his type and he’s exactly yours. You wouldn’t date a guy like him if he wasn’t exactly what you wanted. He lays out all his cards on the table right away. Your relationship won’t have the chance to even begin if you’re not head over heels immediately bro 😭😭😭

With most characters I can imagine them in a relationship with a lot of different kinds of people. Like for example yeah I can imagine Aventurine both dating someone more reserved and sweet or someone bold and loud. Or someone like Argenti Lord knows that man could love ANYONE (or anyTHING tbh), but with Boothill there’s just a very narrow range of personalities I can imagine him with. Hence the rating cause he’d only be in one kind of relationship. 

You guys are a POWER COUPLE I tell you. It’s SICKENING how much you love each other and how well you fit together. Two peas in a pod. I’m gonna throw up. 

You both love the exact same things, you both HATE the exact same things, and you are both equally deranged and insane

The IPC hates to see you coming 💀🙏

You’re constantly in a friendly competition to outdo each other. Who has the higher bounty ? (Usually him) Who can drink most alcohol before blacking out ? (You, surprisingly) Who can kiss the other the most times during this high-speed chase ? (You always tie on this)

He swallows a bullet. You say “I’ll do you one better!” and swallow a knife. You are a human and so he needs to take you to the hospital so you don’t fucking die

(You both think it’s funny afterwards so it’s okay)

Even when you guys “argue” it’s never really that serious. Honestly you both think it’s kind of hot…… you argue in a devious, sexy way……. *smirks mischievously*

Sorry I cannot take him seriously

You match his freak <3

Nobody fucking likes you together. Separately ? Sure people like you. But the moment the two of you are in the same room it’s like you merge into one singular, horrible, annoying entity and NOBODY wants to be around to see it 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 neither of you have gotten a lecture about how inappropriate pda can be and also the two of you speak total nonsense it’s incomprehensible to everyone else

Considering putting Boothill on my “do not request” list, not because I don’t like him but because even I don’t understand how the two of you would fit together I can’t write it y’all are that weird

Boothill is for the freaks and he is PERFECT FOR THEM !!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Dr. Ratio

9/10

Okay I’ll be honest I’m not very caught up on Dr Ratio (I briefly hated him I only recently started liking him again HELP) so forgive me if there is some mischaracterisation in this I’m working on it my view on him isn’t complete yet 🙏🙏

Though Ratio is very ruled by logic, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have emotions. Furthermore, he views these emotions as important. Logic is not inherently opposed to emotions, and in fact, ignoring them would be illogical. 

That is to say, yes, he’s an intellectual man. But he also has a high emotional intelligence 😇😇

Like not in the way of knowing how to cope with them. I don’t think he feels many strong emotions regularly (except for annoyance lol), so I think he in fact gets kind of overwhelmed by them around you and never knows how to regulate them properly HELP

But what I meant to say is that, in a relationship, he considers your thoughts and feelings a lot and makes an effort to prioritise them. He does not want for you to be unhappy. 

He values you very highly. He takes all your opinions into consideration and treats them with respect.

He loves you a lot it’s actually ridiculous. He frequently gets annoyed at himself for how much he finds himself downright SIMPERING over you. 

And like yes Ratio can be very harsh in the way he speaks but I think that 1, his care for people (including the “fools” and “idiots” he seems to scorn so often) shows and it shows even more apparently for people he cares about, and 2 I think he realises it would be inappropriate to be as rude as he usually is to you. You two are in a relationship, you are not some stranger. He cannot go around criticising you constantly, that would not be a healthy dynamic. Meaning he softens his vocabulary for you. 

His care for you is very blatantly obvious. In the beginning I think he’s a bit embarrassed to show you affection. He hasn’t ever dated anyone, much less been in a relationship, with anyone before you (I honestly don’t even think he’s had his first kiss 😭😭), so I think his inexperience plays a part in it. But he still shows you as obviously as he can that he loves you, and he doesn’t shy away from vulnerability in private moments. 

Bro has researched how to be a good partner trust 🤞

He communicates very clearly with you as often as possible. He hates misunderstandings, and tries to avoid them whenever possible. The two of you are almost always on the same page. 

Whenever you argue, he still does not want you to leave the argument feeling unloved. Type to sigh, let his eyes soften and say “I believe it would be best if we both had some time to cool down”, then squeeze your shoulder as he passes you out of the room. Kisses you goodnight before you go to sleep. It’s often easier to talk it out the next day. 

The only things bumping him down from a 10/10 for me is the fact that he doesn’t have that much time to spare for time with only you (his schedule is very packed), and the fact that he cannot cope with his OWN emotions 😭 Great with yours because he can logistically figure out how to handle them, terrible with his own because they’re affecting his own mind and he isn’t used to it

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Blade

7/10

Surprisingly high rating for a guy like him but I swear I’ve thought about this ok don’t leave 😔😔😔

I think it takes…. A lot. Like a lot a lot. To break through Blade’s tough outer shell

He hates letting people in so much it’s actually crazy

The closest person he has before he meets you is probably Kafka, and that’s not really by his own choice he would shut her out too if he could 😭😭

(Not to say he isn’t like, calm and polite to people. He’s pretty reserved and just, like, quiet ig usually, he only really gets weird and aggressive when the Mara flares up or he needs to be for a mission. I just mean he isn’t gonna be open and available for basically anyone lol)

It’s mainly difficult to GET INTO a relationship with Blade, but if you do manage it, it turns out a lot sweeter than you’d expect

He’s just a deeply tired man. He is not malicious, he is not unnecessarily cruel. He is worn out and sick of living, of never getting the rest he so desperately craves. He finds some sort of respite in you, and so he treasures you. 

He trusts your judgement. He stands by you, no matter what. He’s loyal to a fault once you have him. The worst that could ever happen to him now is losing you. Even when he thinks you’re about to do something stupid (and he always tells you when he thinks it’s stupid), he’ll come with you. Better he’s there to take the hit for you than letting you go alone. 

Even with the smaller things, he shows it even more obviously. He cooks you dinner and lunch every day, so you don’t have to. He lets you decorate his apartment, and he never adjusts the things you place in it, even when it clashes horribly with his own style. He lets you drag him along anywhere, whether it be a concert or a park, without complaint. 

The main downsides with Blade are that he never, ever, verbally tells you that he loves you. Maybe once during your entire relationship he’ll say it, and probably when you’re on your deathbed, but he usually won’t. Even if you try to pry it out of him. 

He can be really mean in the way he says things sometimes, like telling you straight up your ideas are dumb, but it’s always softened by the way he agrees to do whatever you want anyways.

Another frustrating thing is how he cares very little for his own wellbeing. It’s a regular occurrence for him to come home with guts spilling out of his abdomen, and it’s really uncomfortable to see even if you know he can’t die. He can still feel pain, even if he’s learnt to cope with it well. It’s scary to see him so hurt so often. 

But you wouldn’t get into a relationship with him if you didn’t already know all this, hence why I rank him so high. He’s a lot better than you expected when you met him, which means you’re effectively in a better relationship than you’d have hoped 😭😭

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Aventurine

4/10 💀💀

I love him so much (my content is mostly Aventurine centric) but holy fuck man,,,

I have never and will never sugarcoat it Aventurine is TOXIC. Like GENUINELY. I wouldn’t say abusive but he can be really cruel. He gets lost in his own head and takes it out on you in ways he doesn’t really mean to. Aventurine is not a good person. 

He’s fucked up in all sorts of ways and it’s no surprise it could easily destroy any relationship

Trust issues ? Jealousy issues ? Commitment issues ? Attachment issues ? Insecurity issues ? Mommy, daddy AND sister issues ? Every kind of possible issue you can probably imagine ? Yes on all fronts, bro’s the full issue package 💀

It would take a very special kind of person to endure in a relationship with him (I would not be able to do it if he was real I’ll be so honest)😭

When things are good, they’re really good. He can be so fun and playful and sweet and he loves to spoil you and everything that belongs to him belongs to you. He loves you more than the air he breathes and he’d do anything to make you happy

The issue is, most of the time, things are not in fact good. 

I keep mentioning it but his relationships are always such a push and pull. A game of hot and cold. One second he clings to you and begs you to never leave him, and the next he won’t respond to your calls or messages. 

Even worse, sometimes he’ll be outright mean in order to push you away, insinuating you’re “holding him down” and that you’re “wasting his time”. You’ll find yourself questioning if he actually does love you, because what sort of person does this to someone they love?

(It keeps him up at night when he treats you badly. He hates doing it, but he needs you to hate him as much as he hates himself.)

Usually he’s a really smart guy. Even when he does stupid things (things like making a purposeless high-risk gamble, playing Russian roulette), he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. (He does it because he kind of hopes he’ll actually die this time.) But with you, he loses all his composure and can’t really think straight. 

He feels safe with you, and that scares him. He’s a danger to your safety, and it’s better to push you away, make you hate him, than it is to let himself be happy with you. His life is beyond saving, so all he can do to you if you stay is drag you into his mess. He can’t fix himself, not even for your sake. 

He lies to you, he neglects you (sometimes for weeks at a time), he builds up new walls between you constantly, but at the same time he gets insecure and jealous when you hang out with others. Only when you threaten to leave him does he finally start getting his act together, because he realises that now that he’s had you, he couldn’t bear to live without you (even if he knows that’s very selfish of him). 

He gets better with time, but I really, really doubt he’ll ever be fully healed. It doesn’t help that his job wouldn’t really allow it, and he can’t leave the IPC through any other means than death. 

I originally ranked him as a 3/10 (diabolically low rating I know 💀💀) but I bumped him up one because he will get better. If you stick around long enough, he’d probably make it to a 7/10, but since that would take like over 4 years of being in a relationship with him I felt it would be unfair to rank him much higher 😭😭 At the start he really fucking sucks dude I’m so sorry my condolences 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[cozy-the-overlord]

Anti-Hero passing Blank Space as Taylor’s longest running number one single makes me so happy

[lucabyte]

Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

[g1rld1ary]

5 people james didn't mean to kiss (and one he did) ; james potter x fem!reader

➻ first james fic!! i love reviving old fanfic trends <33

➻ word count: 4494

➻ synopsis: says it on the tin baby!

➻ warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/dirty jokes, era typical homophobia (basically nonexistent)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

James Potter was a very affectionate person, everyone knew that. His love language was absolutely physical touch — everyone knew that too. It was also assumed, therefore, that James Potter had an extensive list of kisses. That assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, but a good chunk of them weren’t exactly what you imagined when thinking of the great James Potter kissing someone. They were often impulsive when he didn’t know how else to express his feelings. His very first kiss, for example, wasn’t exactly the cheesy, romantic soap opera that he often advertised providing for girls.

Sirius Black

The Marauders sat in their dorm room, early on in second year. While first year was packed with ridiculous adventures and the forming of their friendship group, second year brought a new awareness of girls, romance and especially kissing. That was the topic of discussion as the boys all packed into one bed, hypothesising about what it might be like. James and Sirius led the discussion with much bravado and false confidence whilst Peter looked decidedly scared. Remus, to his credit, just looked rather amused at it all.

“But where do you touch her?” James asked, eyes still wide and innocent and twelve years old, “I can’t just stand there with my hands at my sides like a twat!”

“Don’t be stupid, you hold her like this.” Sirius bent his arms in a direction that looked borderline painful. Remus huffed and climbed off the bed, pulling both the boys with him.

“If you’re gonna kiss a girl,” Remus instructed, “You have to hold her gently. Don’t push her around like she’s dead weight. James, put your arms around Sirius’ waist like that, now Sirius, you put your arms around his neck.”

“Pete’s gonna think we’re bent,” Sirius grumbled, a red hue on his cheeks.

“You are bent, you poof,” Peter quipped from his spot on the bed. He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t come to light until fourth year. James thought this was hilarious though, and began miming exaggerated — rather sloppy — kisses. And since James never failed to cure Sirius of his moods, he did the same. Remus rolled his eyes as the two boys acted out a passionate scene, loose tongues and all, until they were no longer acting.

All four boys in the dorm were frozen as James and Sirius’ mouths had accidentally connected in their stupidity, none of them sure what to do. Seconds passed as the two stood, lips locked against each other, no one daring to move. At least, until Remus let out a long, uncharacteristic wheeze, which dissolved into a fit of giggles that he would usually be mortified by, but there was no way he was outdoing the kiss anytime soon. Peter followed along momentarily, laughing so hard barely any sound actually came out, silent heaves punctuated by gasping breaths.

Released from their stupor both boys leapt apart, wiping their mouths with their forearms. Both had comical expressions of disgust, still slightly too stunned to verbalise any of it.

“We,” James heaved, “Can never speak of this again. Ever.” Sirius agreed in a heartbeat, still unable to completely wipe the blush from his pale complexion. He probably would have dwelled on those feelings if James wasn’t James, beginning to see the humour in it soon enough. By the end of the night it was an inside joke that would proceed to be referenced countless times within the walls of Hogwarts.

So although James would tell the story of his first kiss quite differently — he alleged it was with a Ravenclaw named Keeley a few weeks later, his proper first kiss will always have been with one Sirius Black in the Gryffindor dormitories on an otherwise unassuming Tuesday evening. And that secret was held onto dearly by all four marauders until, of course, Sirius’ best man speech at James’ wedding, where the anecdote received uproarious applause, loudest of all by James himself.

2. Remus Lupin

The Marauders had all known about Remus’ ‘furry little problem’ since their second year — first for the most perceptive of the bunch. Nevertheless, the group were insistent in helping Remus in any way they could, though it was a difficult task when his alter ego had no resistance to killing them. Until Sirius had come to them with the idea of becoming animagi. It was difficult no doubt, advanced magic far beyond the teaching at Hogwarts, but the four of them were exceptional wizards each in their own way, and the project seemed somewhat manageable with four brains chipping away at it over the course of two years.

When they finally did get it, hardly any of them could believe it, least of all Remus. He had never imagined that the human side of him was worthy of this much love and devotion, let alone the monster within him. However, despite how they tried to play it off, the achievement didn’t come easily to any of them. Sirius was the first to get it, big black dog accompanying the group around the castle and becoming an unexpected staple of the Gryffindor common room. You in particular liked to cuddle up with him on the couch and spoil him with head scratches when you were stressed from school — at least until the secret was revealed and you hit him upside his human head for deceiving you.

James was second to get it, though much less gracefully than Sirius. The whole group of Gryffindors had been hanging out together down by the Black Lake, enjoying the slowly warming weather after class one day. James had the misfortune of being sat between you and Lily, which made things very confusing for his hormonal body and brain. His eyes were trained on his hands, too afraid to actually talk to either of you and embarrass himself which was what usually happened. You and Lily, however, were hell bent on making that occur. While James had had a well known crush on Lily for the last few years, ever since you’d come back to school that year post-puberty you could both tell that James was both emotionally and physically confused. You both delighted in this and used it to your advantage, Lily finding him the most annoying man on earth and you delighting in his flustered expressions (secretly finding him actually pretty cute).

After thirty minutes of torture, James couldn’t take it. You’d made one too many dirty jokes directed at him and he was a blushing mess, fidgeting awkwardly between you and Lily laughing gleefully. He excused himself quickly and uncharacteristically quietly, hurrying off to be out of sight of his friends. You all laughed as you watched him go, and Remus reluctantly stood, muttering something about making sure James didn’t drive himself crazy.

Remus headed straight to the Forbidden Forest, knowing the privacy would be what James desired in the moment. Sure enough there he was, taking a moment to breathe against a tree.

“Easy there, Potter, don’t cum in your pants,” He joked, obviously amused by the whole ordeal. James turned quickly, devastated at Remus seeing him so sexually frustrated.

“Sod off, Lupin. It’s not my fault! They both just sit there looking so fucking good, talking about all these unholy things and you expect me to just be fine with it? It’s so—” Instead of the exasperated groan Remus expected, he was met with a stag standing tall in front of him. He couldn’t help his mouth dropping open, the animal far more magnificent than he could have expected out of the fourteen year old boy.

In a weird shift of figure the deer was back to boy, and James only had a moment of shocked stillness before he was whooping and yelling in the grass. Remus joined him, the two of them yelling and dancing around like idiots in their joy. James pulled him in for a hug, appropriately masculine until he pressed a kiss onto Remus’ lips, still grinning ecstatically as they pulled away. Remus scowled in a way he hoped was convincing.

“I hate it when you do that, Potter,” He grumbled as the two of them returned to their friends.

“Yeah, right,” James laughed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s a blessing to be kissed by my sexy arse.”

3. Peter Pettigrew

While all four of the Marauders were undoubtedly exceptional wizards, that didn’t always translate into their grades. For example, being so ahead in the curriculum made James Potter get lazy, often submitting subpar essays simply because he figured it was already common knowledge and he was more interested in higher level magic. He always ended up with top grades from outstanding extra credit projects, but the point still stood.

Peter was similarly a great wizard. Perhaps not so much a prodigy like James or Sirius, and didn’t dominate the class ranks like Remus, but he did well for himself and was pretty exceptional in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. However, he was failing History of Magic. All four of them had chosen the subject for their OWLs, assuming it would be an easy O because of the ghost professor. They couldn’t be more wrong. Binns was a useless teacher and Peter especially found it difficult to teach himself the material just from the textbook, and was falling dreadfully behind, each essay earning a worse grade than the last.

James had offered to help tutor him before their exams, and the two buckled down in the library almost every day in the weeks leading up to exam season. Peter made pretty good progress, eager to catch up with his friends and prove he was on their level. Still, everyone was nervous for the test and its outcome.

When results were released, you and the Gryffindors were all together. Whilst you and the girls all got the reveal over and done with, the boys all waited with bated breaths. Most of the grades weren’t shocking — three of them knew they could easily get top grades from the little effort they put in, but they were all waiting on Peter’s History of Magic grade. The blond boy opened his paper with shaky hands, eyes scanning frantically over the information contained. Slowly he raised his head, nervous smile apparent.

“I got an A,” He said, and within an instant the boys were on top of him, congratulating him with strong hugs or by clapping him on the back. James grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing them together and pushing a kiss onto Peter’s lips.

“Prongs!” Peter moaned, pushing his face away half-heartedly.

“I’m just proud of you, Wormtail,” He cooed, appearing much like his mother whom you all adored.

“Oi, Potter,” You interrupted, waving your sheet of results around. “I got an O in Potions — where’s my kiss?” James immediately broke your eye contact, and you pretended you weren’t charmed by his embarrassed little smile. He mumbled a response that had his friends ripping him to shreds, egging him on whilst simultaneously teasing him and his alleged manhood. He pressed a gentle peck to your forehead and you raised an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant, but ok.”

4. Regulus Black

Regulus Black had a difficult relationship with the Marauders, to say the very least. By his fifth year — the rest of the boys’ sixth — Sirius had been at the Potter’s for months and Regulus was still reeling from the impact. He was noticeably quieter and more sombre than in years previous, and a dangerous resentment for his brother and his friends bubbled under his skin.

James Potter connected these dots quickly. However, he didn’t really know what to do about it. He wasn’t sorry that Sirius was living with him, but he didn’t like that Regulus was left all alone with their wicked parents, regardless of their personal differences. That brought James to you.

You sat together on the couch, his head resting next to your thighs, curls just brushing against your skin in a way that you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was lamenting about his mental struggles as you worked on your crochet, thinking quietly as he rambled on.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” You asked suddenly, and James tilted his head to look up at you, holding back his laughter at your upside down appearance.

“What?” He asked, “I can’t talk to him, he hates me!”

“When has that ever stopped you before? Lily hates you and yet you bother her all the time,” You said, smile playing on your lips.

“That’s not true!” James protested, “I don’t bother her that much anymore!” You rolled your eyes playfully and turned back to your craft as James continued to ponder the situation.

As usual, he decided you were right. And so he sent a short letter to Regulus, asking for a meeting on the Astronomy tower at midnight. Surprisingly he’d agreed, and the two boys were standing awkwardly across each other on the tower. Regulus refused to start the conversation and so stood in silence, staring down James in an effort to scare him off. James wouldn’t be deterred.

“I just wanted to talk about what happened last year,” He said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“C’mon. I know we’re not friends, but I also figured none of your friends are the talking type either. So, I thought you could talk to me — full confidentiality. I don’t know, blame me, yell at me, I just don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

“How sweet, Potter,” He sneered, “But I don’t need to talk about any of my feelings.”

James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

“Ok, well if you don’t want to talk, how about you listen?” To his surprise, Regulus stayed. One perfect eyebrow raised, he slowly sat next to James, legs dangling over the edge of the tower. After a gesture for him to go on, James started. He began to talk about the process of having Sirius live with him, the feelings they both had about it, and the guilt they both felt about leaving Regulus alone. At that Regulus looked up, eyes pooling with hope.

Then without any warning, Regulus was talking more than James had ever heard before, spilling what he supposed must have been the younger boy’s darkest secrets and vulnerabilities. James was unprepared, not actually expecting him to engage. At one point James had put a comforting arm around Regulus’ shoulder, words failing to express any of the feelings he had inside. Regulus didn’t pull away as James expected, instead only starting to cry. James just watched in disbelief as Regulus cried into his chest. Awkwardly, James arranged himself to press a gentle kiss to Regulus’ forehead right as Regulus moved to look up and speak, resulting in a ridiculous kiss between the two of them.

They jumped apart in less than a second, both with horrified looks on their faces.

“Oh my God—”

“That was an accident I swear—”

“I’m really sorry—”

“I was just trying to comfort you—”

Both boys stumbled over their words as they clambered up to their feet, putting a strictly heterosexual amount of space between them.

“Um, I’m just gonna go,” Regulus settled on, backing up towards the door.

“I’m seriously sorry, Black. It’s just something I do — doesn’t usually backfire like that.” Regulus just nodded, leaving quickly.

“Potter?” He stopped halfway through the door and James looked up. “Thanks.” James didn’t get any time to reply as Regulus was long gone, leaving him to cringe on his own. Neither of them would be telling anybody about the incident. Ever.

5. Lily Evans

You and James had been doing your will-they-won’t-they thing for a long time. Not quite since you met, but once you’d both started to notice the opposite sex you’d been participating in a battle of who could resist the longest. Teasing and cajoling were staples of your relationship. Whilst it had started as a way to pass the time; James had been in love with Lily since second year and you just liked to tease, at some point the feelings crossed over into a real and dangerous territory. However, neither of you wanted to do anything in case the feelings weren’t reciprocated, and truthfully hadn’t realised the true depth of them.

You and James were the only ones not to see the obvious: the feelings were absolutely reciprocated. It was tearing your friends apart, trying to get one of you to finally confess before you finished school forever. There were bets in place, pep talks and everything else the Gryffindors could think of to finally cause the event they’d been hoping for. Eventually, Lily had had enough.

One day you were all hanging out in your dormitory, most of you doing your homework and Marlene fiddling with a record player, trying to get it to come back to life.

“So, what would you guys think if I gave James a chance?” Lily asked, too coy to be genuine, but you were caught off-guard enough that you didn’t notice. “I mean, I know I’ve said some terrible things over the years, but now that he’s backed off he’s actually a really nice guy.”

“But… James?” You asked incredulously, essay immediately forgotten.

“Yeah, why not? He’s the hottest guy in our year, and if all goes to shit it’s only a few months until we graduate and I’ll never have to see him again.”

“But it’s James!” The rest of the girls had caught on to what Lily was scheming and delighted in joining in.

“Why shouldn’t she? It’s not like you like him, right?” Mary asked, studying your expressions. You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. And just when they thought Lily had finally succeeded in getting the ball rolling you answered: “No, of course not. You go ahead, Lils.”

What started as a ploy to get you to admit your feelings only snowballed from there when Lily realised she couldn’t just back out now. And so she hatched a plan. Everything was going perfectly; Sirius and Remus had made sure the common room was devoid of younger students so no unhelpful rumours could be spread, and Marlene had been hanging out with you all evening to make sure you stuck to the schedule she’d devised.

With perfect precision, you and Marlene entered through the portrait just as Lily came down from the dorms.

“Hey, Potter,” She called, and James looked up curiously from his game of wizard’s chess. The redhead marched over to him, cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him strongly. Your jaw dropped open. You couldn’t believe Lily was just going for it like that, but even more you couldn’t believe the sick feeling creeping up from your stomach. You looked at Marlene, who only looked marginally less shocked. A glance around the room proved similar. Although they all knew Lily’s plan, it was two entirely different things to hear about her scheme to get the two of you together and seeing Lily Evans kissing James Potter.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go,” You mumbled, somehow finding your footing to run from the room, desperate to get anywhere where you didn’t have to see that, and the subsequent (or so you believed) union of a happy couple.

Lily pulled away from the kiss, eyes immediately trying to find you and she was puzzled when she couldn’t. A look at Marlene told her all she needed to know and her heart sank; she’d failed. James was looking a little more dazed than the head girl, and suddenly looked terribly awkward in his seat.

“Look, Lils. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way about you anymore. There’s— there’s someone else, and I, I have to go.” With that James headed up to his dormitory, and the rest of your friends stood in a thick silence for several moments.

“I think I just made everything worse,” Lily said, and then the chaos started.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?” Sirius asked loudly, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“I don’t know! I just figured maybe they’d have an epiphany and both realise they’d rather be kissing each other!” Lily cried, throwing herself into an armchair.

You

Lily was right, she’d unintentionally made everything worse. You were upset at what you’d seen and the story you’d attributed to it, and even more so at your terribly timed realisation of your feelings. Because of this you’d started avoiding James in an effort to get over him, which only made you more miserable that you couldn’t talk to your favourite person. James, in turn, hadn’t seen you enter the common room on the night of the kiss and so believed —and dearly hoped — that you were blissfully ignorant, and so was equally perplexed and distraught at the space between you. He’d tried to approach you about it but you evaded him or turned him away every time.

“Hey, love, can we please—”

“It’s fine, James,” You interrupted him, “It was all just a bit of fun, right? All the flirting, the being touchy. But now you’re with Lily and I’ll back off, I get it, don’t worry. I wish you two every happiness.” You tried to sound as genuine as you could while sadness bit at your heart, and left James standing astounded in the corridor. Now he knew that you’d seen the kiss the issue was obvious, but the solution remained a mystery to him.

You’d taken to Marlene to get your feelings out, and she listened patiently as you rattled off a monologue about your childish jealousy and broken heart. Luckily, she’d discussed how to handle this with Lily — who knew you wouldn’t go to her because of her alleged involvement with James, and set off (hopefully) your friend’s last attempt to get you two together. She finally shook you out of it, frustrated with the lack of action.

“They’re not together,” She said, stopping you in your tracks.

“What?”

“They’re not together,” She repeated, making intense eye contact with you. “It was all this dumb plan Lily had to get the two of you together. She thought if you saw James getting with someone else you’d finally realise your feelings for him. And you did, but you were supposed to stick around to hear Potter reject her and say that he liked someone else, you.” You were shocked into silence, what could you say to that?

“So,” You started carefully, “What do I do now?”

James was in a similar situation with the boys.

“She saw Lily kiss me and now she thinks I like Lily when I like her! Plus, she won’t even be in my presence long enough for me to explain that it’s all just this huge misunderstanding and it’s her I want to be snogging!” James lay dramatically across his bed as the boys sighed.

“Prongs, isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked and James cocked his head to the side, looking remarkably like a confused puppy. “Do something she can’t ignore. Make a grand gesture to prove your feelings for her.” James thought about it, it made sense. If you wouldn’t hear his explanation, he’d just have to make you.

“How?”

You and James went into the following Saturday with the same goal. It was Gryffindor’s quidditch semi-final, so there was a party being held whatever the outcome. It would be the first time you’d see each other since you’d realised your mistake since training was taking up all of James’ time.

Gryffindor had won, thankfully, which had both of you in higher spirits. The party was already in full swing by the time you got there, opting for a smoke first to calm your nerves. You’d spotted James almost as soon as you entered, always the heart and soul of a party. You marched towards him with a purpose, but as soon as he set eyes on you he jumped up to stand on a table. Someone had lowered the volume of the music — not silent, but low enough so you could hear him yelling over it. He said your full name, clearly and intentionally in a way that had surrounding people look at you curiously.

“I love you,” He said suddenly. “I am in love with you, not anyone else, and whatever made you think that’s not true was just a huge misunderstanding. Because I love you so much, and all I want to do is snog you until I’m the only name you remember, baby.” You let out a short laugh at his vulgarity and the cocky smirk that accompanied it, but a cheek-splitting smile won out when you thought about the preceding words and the sincerity he’d instilled in them. Before you even knew what you were doing you were racing towards him, gratefully taking Peter’s hand to join James on the table.

You honestly couldn’t tell who had initiated the kiss, but you were suddenly so intimately joined together it was like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, compressing your body in an effort to fuse to his. His strong arms around you couldn’t shield you from the confetti being thrown around (for the match, of course, not just your kiss), nor the catcalls of your friends. You only pulled away when you felt James’ tongue start exploring a little too far, mindful that half the people you knew were watching. You wore matching grins as you parted, foreheads still pressed together and breathing heavy.

While it might have taken four years, innumerable (accidental) kisses and one failed set-up plan to get there, you were sure in your heart that James Potter was the only boy you ever wanted to kiss. And so you did, over and over for the years to come, and you cheered and applauded enthusiastically as the seemingly never ending list of friends and family told stories of receiving a coveted James Potter kiss throughout the years, knowing you were the only one who got to be his bride.

[clairdelunelove]

it's the way that having itadori yuuji as your best friend would be disastrous if you ever dated someone else. it's not glaringly obvious the first couple of times your significant other spots you with the blushy haired male; waiting for you outside the shop's fitting room, surprising you with a freshly baked dessert from the local bakery, or ruffling your hair when you announce some positive news. but it's the tiny details that are automatically picked at and asked about first.

'we're just super close, that's all,' you once confessed to them when they confronted you about it.

and sure, the word close was an understatement when (on more than one occasion) your partner caught yuuji's gleaming eyes fixated on your glossy lips. or how, when the three of you are eating out at a restaurant, yuuji intentionally reaches over the table to swipe at the corner of your mouth due to your messy eating. only to bring his thumb back to his lips to lick it off with a light-hearted hum. it certainly doesn't sit too well with the new boyfriend you managed to woo. thus, questions are raised, arguments get heated, and you've given the exact same reasoning every time they interrogate you.

'he's naturally friendly to everyone.'

'he's just a nice guy!'

because who was your new partner to say that you couldn't spend time with yuuji? what would that make them? the villain, obviously. because yuuji's extremely likable. he laughs at cliche jokes, only makes promises he can keep, and goes the extra mile to include everyone in conversation. his character is unmatched. there are many that aim to be a fraction of the man that yuuji is. he even goes out of his way to guide the elderly across the street or helps carry the grocery bags for single mothers. and the notion that all your exes can agree on is that, it's crazy, but yuuji's almost too perfect. equipped with a beaming grin and boyish charm that captivates the hearts of others. not to mention the ripples of raw muscle that he conceals beneath layers of clothes; don't even get your previous boyfriends started on that.

because, for some odd reason, there’s always a scenario that comes up where yuuji has to strip in front of you. he spills water on his hoodie or you’re cold so he gives you his jacket; whatever happens and suddenly your gaze shifts greedily to the expanse of skin that’s unveiled to you. the golden, veiny physique that he rarely flaunts despite how much you unknowingly hint towards appreciating. 

and they just can’t fathom how to compete. this guy is the epitome of the trope ‘the boy next door.’ yet, there are some that set out to outdo yuuji. the ones that refuse to give up due to pride and jealousy. they tell themselves that they won’t lose to some wide-eyed, blushy haired friend. and it’s that hot, boiling pride that later comes back to bite them. 

because like the descent of quicksand, once it starts– it doesn’t stop. as in, yuuji completely outshines them in every way. 

like the time where your boyfriend invited you out to the newest bar that just opened up in town. it’s preppy with their illuminated, colorful ceiling lights and booming music– the perfect place for sprightly young adults to relax and enjoy the evening. and perhaps it would’ve been enjoyable if you were in the right mood to revel in the electric energy. but you weren’t. 

“I’m just not feeling up for it,” you explain while sheepishly biting your lip, “kinda just wanted to stay in tonight. can we do that instead?” 

yet your boyfriend dismisses your suggestion with a wave of his hand and reassures you that you’ll love it. this place had an incredible rating, after all. you’ll enjoy it and it’ll be better if the two of you leave early to get decent parking. plus it was in the busiest part of town so it was bound to be popular. ‘they have a lot of new drinks you can try,’ he spurs, ‘just suck it up this time and we can do something at my place next weekend.’ 

so like the people pleaser you are, you agree. perhaps you’d find it in you to live it up. bask in the thrill of a long night. but you find out rather quickly that you’re on the verge of being blinded by the flashing lights and decor. you can’t move without bumping shoulders with a stranger. you can’t think without your thoughts being rudely interrupted by drunk individuals that hiccup through an apology. you can’t even spot where your boyfriend went in this mess. and you’re just so overstimulated; head ringing with the promise of an oncoming migraine. cupping your hands over your ears, you attempt to block out the deafening music in order to actually formulate some logic on what you should do in this situation. how could he just leave you alone in this crowd? you weren’t expecting to be separated from him, let alone be left in the corner of the room. you didn’t even want to come. all your effort was for nothing. your chest feels heavy and your heart drops at the realization that you wouldn’t even be in this turmoil if he’d just listened to your unease. to put aside his own personal pleasure and attend to yours instead. your fingers are shaking. and in situations like these, where you’re on the verge of breaking down, you pull out your phone and dial the first contact that pops up. 

-

“comin’ through!” 

you hear his voice before you spot him. a crisp, clear tone that causes you to lift your gaze in desperation. and he’s on the move. wide shoulders pushing through the crowd of scantily dressed bar-goers, he curses beneath his breath and bulldozes his way to you. his soft, pink hair bobs at the rate he’s moving and the revelation that he genuinely came hits you like a freight train. because he’s here— here to rescue you from this overpriced, overcrowded bar. still, he looks out of place. clad in a loose jacket and loungewear, he certainly doesn’t fit the criteria of coming to an expensive bar. in fact, his outfit gives the impression that he haphazardly threw on whatever he could get his hands on before sprinting out the door. and little do you know, that’s exactly what he did. though, his sharp features and built physique don’t go unnoticed. there are a couple teasing remarks that leave the painted lips of women occupying the dance floor. their gaze dips to survey the bar’s newcomer. your ears burn at their advances as you shift on your feet. their words are flirtatious, frisky, and bold– saying the right compliments that’d charm typical men so they could have their way with them. 

yet he treads through, undeterred, his tender gaze never leaving yours as he passes by them. 

“you okay?” 

it’s the first inquiry that leaves yuuji upon making his way to you. always the type to ask about someone else’s well-being before assessing his own. his brows are knitted in a frown as his soft whisper almost causes your composure to crack. and even through the bar’s blaring music you can pick up his voice from anywhere because you search for him in everything. he scours your face, shiny eyes pinballing across your soft features to check in on you. 

“you actually came here for me?” 

the observation leaves your lips in a breath of disbelief. on a weekend, a time where many were called into the promises of a long slumber, your best friend shows up in accordance with your plea for help. like how a superhero rescues the vulnerable civilian in those comic books that yuuji adored reading when he was younger. the tears that welled up in your reddened eyes have dried due to his arrival and your fingers itch to reach out in a need to hold him. 

he blinks owlishly and scratches the back of his head, “‘course I did! you called.” 

and he says it so simply; like his life’s purpose was to fulfill your happiness and beckon to your every word. crossing your arms over your chest, you’re abruptly reminded of the outfit you’re wearing. while he’s clad in clothes that are so inherently yuuji, you’re dressed in an overly extravagant getup that drapes along your curves. it’s different from the typical wardrobe that’s in your closet that he’d recognized. he steps closer to you, his comfort automatically enveloping you in warmth, and instantly starts to unzip his jacket. 

“yuu,” you begin to say while glancing around, “what are you–”

“you look good.” 

you freeze. it’s not the first time yuuji’s given you a compliment before, of course not. he’s an affectionate person by nature. but it’s always been said in passing— the occasional murmur before you walk out of the door or a hushed whisper as he’s leaving. the words are uttered in secrecy. he respects you and is aware that the flattering remarks are too intimate to verbalize when you’re with someone else. 

doesn’t mean what he says is any less true, though. 

“too much? sorry but,” he lightheartedly chuckles as he fiddles with the jacket around your shoulders, “jus’ don't like the idea of everyone seeing you like this.” 

and you’re stumped, burning to the tips of your ears due to his rather endearing words. feels like fuzz is sticking to your tongue because he’s so honest. and you know he is, that’s why you adore spending time with him– you admire him for it. yuuji wouldn’t mention something so significant if it wasn’t true. and the gaze that he’s fixed upon you is like there’s nothing in the world that he finds more beautiful than you. not the sun that hangs in the morning to brighten the day. not the moon that’s barely visible from outside the building’s windows. not even the entirety of the galaxy can compare to the light that you radiate tonight. so perhaps your effort to show up wasn’t entirely in vain.

“let’s go.” 

lifting his hand, he rests it against the back of your neck and starts to part the crowd for you. he’s made up his mind. enough of this stuffy, raucous club. once you called him, he already knew that this wasn’t the type of activity you wished to spend your money and time on. but don’t worry, he’ll make it all better. leave it to him. and there’s a glimmer of determination in his honeyed eyes. his fingers graze the strip of your soft skin, a sort of gentle protectiveness conveyed in his touch. 

and naturally you follow him. how could you not when his grip on you is comforting yet exhilarating? enraptured by his sweet words and warmth, you erupt in goosebumps whenever he’s around. yet he’s completely unaware. instead, he cutely mumbles to himself on where the exit is, glancing at the neon illuminated signs for a clue. he was comfort, security, and need– all in one. 

you let him guide you closer. 

on your way out, however, the two of you end up crossing paths with your boyfriend. busy chatting up a group of distinguished, young partygoers with an amber drink in his hand. his face is flushed bright red, most likely from the alcohol and perspiration from the humidity within the room. yet, there’s a carefree grin on his face as he gossips with a girl that’s hanging by his side. the whole night you were frantically waiting for him and he was here– cozying up with people you’ve never seen. and at first, it’s anger that courses through your veins. until it morphs into confused regret. a part of you thought it was strange to spot him just as you were leaving.

yuuji notices where your dazed stare drifted off to and he carefully treads over to your boyfriend with you following his trail. 

“I’m taking her home,” yuuji says. 

it’s a declaration. a statement. yuuji won’t listen to any half-baked excuse or alibi that your partner might come up with. 

your partner’s eyes widen at your unexpected arrival and he immediately stands up from his chair. his eyes bounce from yuuji to you, disbelief written on his face. can feel the beginnings of embarrassment lashing at him. he knows he’s messed up and gotten caught. so he does what he does best. glancing at the way yuuji’s hand is splayed on the back of your neck and the dark jacket draped on your shoulders, his brow knowingly raises towards you. 

“uh, I’m surprised you’re here,” your partner acknowledges yuuji’s presence with a quick once over, “did she call you?” 

and there’s no remorse in his voice. not an ounce of concern for your well-being despite the way you stand in front of him. he’s just worried about his own wounded pride due to the fact that yuuji’s upstaging him in every way. there isn’t any time to cry a river though because your brain suddenly short-circuits when yuuji’s thumb starts to absentmindedly stroke at the sensitive part of your neck. an act of comfort that causes warmth to spread throughout your body. using his grasp as leverage, he tugs you closer to him until you’re desperately gripping onto the front of his shirt and you let out a yelp of revelation. because from this angle, there’s a sharp glint in yuuji’s eyes that you've never seen before. a huff bordering a chuckle escapes from his lips. 

“are you surprised? really?” yuuji asks rather rhetorically before smoothly shrugging, “I’m not surprised.” 

and yuuji’s hand falls to wrap around the curve of your waist to prove his point. a knowing grin twists on his face when you instinctively curl yourself against him, a blush dusting your cheeks. your partner or rather, ex-partner, clicks his tongue while turning away. the exchange was over. and just like that, it’s obvious that yuuji’s dedication towards you has won again. he’s rescued, comforted, and bandaged up all your troubles tonight. shown you the image of reliability and trust. you’re familiar with the nature of his devotion for you is always growing and never-ending. and you might’ve made a new realization.

you’re in love with your best friend. 

[oldsoul007]

Ultraviolence

dr. charlie mayhew x dr!reader

request: Hi, can I request for a Doc Charlie Mayhew x rival in med school days reader. They haven't seen each other in years then reader got into an accident and *surprise surprise* Charlie gets assigned to treat her. Some enemies to lovers kinda thing

warning: arguing, puking

Charlie Mayhew and I were both top students in our medical school, each driven by a fierce determination to become the best doctor. From the very first day, we found ourselves constantly competing, whether it was for the highest grades, the best clinical evaluations, or the most coveted internships. Our rivalry was well-known among our peers and even the professors, who often marveled at our relentless pursuit of excellence.

Despite our competitive nature, there was a mutual respect between Charlie and I. We pushed each other to new heights, each striving to outdo the other. Late-night study sessions in the library often turned into silent battles of endurance, and clinical rounds became arenas for showcasing our knowledge and skills.

Mine and Charlie’s argument had reached a boiling point. We were standing in the study lounge, faces flushed with anger, each unwilling to back down.

"Charlie, your method is reckless and could jeopardize everything we've worked for!" I shouted, my frustration evident.

"And your way is so safe it's boring, y/n! We need to take risks to make an impact!" Charlie retorted, his voice equally loud.

The tension between us was palpable. Neither was willing to consider the other's perspective, and our stubbornness only fueled the fire.

"You always think you know better than everyone else," I accused, my eyes narrowing.

"And you never take a chance, always playing it safe," Charlie shot back, his tone biting.

Our argument echoed through the study lounge, drawing the attention of our classmates. But Charlie and I were too wrapped up in our own battle to notice. The more we argued, the more entrenched we became in our positions.

Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want, Charlie. But don't expect me to clean up your mess."

Charlie glared at me, his jaw set. "I don't need your approval, y/n. I'll prove you wrong."

With that, we stormed off in opposite directions, the argument unresolved and our rivalry more intense than ever.

I was in the middle of stitching up a patient's wound, my hands steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. The room was filled with the usual sounds of the ER—monitors beeping, hushed conversations, the occasional shout for assistance. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and it didn't take long to figure out who it was. Charlie.

I glanced up briefly and, sure enough, there he was, staring at me from across the room. His gaze was intense, almost scrutinizing. It felt like he was waiting for me to make a mistake, to prove some unspoken point. Annoyance bubbled up inside me. I didn't need this right now, not after the night we'd had.

Without missing a beat, I shot him a sharp, rude look. It was a silent message: back off. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't look away. I could feel the tension between us, thick and palpable, but I forced myself to focus back on my patient. I didn't have time for Charlie's games

After a grueling night at the hospital, the group of medical school students decided to unwind at our favorite local bar. The dim lighting and the hum of conversations provided a stark contrast to the sterile, high-pressure environment we had just left. Me and Charlie, both exhausted yet wired from the adrenaline, found ourselves at opposite ends of the bar.

As the night wore on, tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface started to bubble up. Charlie, feeling the weight of a particularly difficult case, made a snide remark about me handling of a patient. Me, already on edge, snapped back, my voice cutting through the chatter. Our friends tried to diffuse the situation, but the stress of their demanding schedules and the alcohol only fueled the fire.

"You know, y/n, I really don't understand how you handled that patient today. It was almost like you were trying to make things harder for everyone."

My eyes narrowed, the tension immediately palpable. "Excuse me? At least I didn't stand around second-guessing every decision like you did. Maybe if you spent less time criticizing and more time actually helping, we'd get things done faster."

Our friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the brewing storm. Charlie leaned in, his voice low but sharp. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and actually listened to someone else's fucking opinion for once, things wouldn't get so chaotic."

My face flushed with anger. "You’re an asshole, You think you're the only one who knows anything? Your arrogance is infuriating, Charlie. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's always right."

The argument escalated quickly, with both me and Charlie hurling accusations and frustrations at each other. It wasn't just about the patient anymore; it was about the long hours, the constant pressure, and the unspoken competition between us. The altercation drew the attention of the entire bar, but neither seemed to care as they vented months of pent-up stress.

I sat at my desk, textbooks and notes scattered around me. I had been studying for hours, but the material just wasn't sticking. The test was looming, and I felt the pressure mounting. With a deep sigh, she realized she needed help. The last person I wanted to ask was Charlie, but I didn't have much choice.

Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and sent Charlie a message. "Hey, I need some help with the study material. Can you spare some time?"

Charlie responded quickly. "What will you give me if I do” moments later another message comes through. “Sure, I can help. When do you want to meet?"

We agreed to meet at the library later that afternoon. I felt a mix of relief and frustration. I didn't like admitting I needed help, especially from Charlie, but I knew it was necessary.

When we met, Charlie was surprisingly patient and thorough. He explained the concepts clearly, breaking down the material in a way that made sense to me. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself grateful for his help.

"Thanks, Charlie," I said at the end of our session. "I really appreciate it."

Charlie smiled. "No problem, y/n. We all need a little help sometimes."

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but feel a bit more confident about the upcoming test. Maybe working with Charlie wasn't so bad after all.

Years later, I found myself in a hospital room, my head throbbing from the accident I’d just been in. I couldn't believe my luck when the doctor walked in and it was Charlie. Of course, it had to be him.

Charlie looked just as surprised to see me. "Y/n," he sighed, his tone professional but his eyes betraying a hint of the old tension between us. "What happened?"

"Car accident," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I guess you're my doctor."

"Looks like it," Charlie said, glancing at my chart. "Let's get you checked out."

The examination was awkward, the air thick with unspoken words. Charlie was thorough and professional, but I could sense the tension in his every move. I couldn't help but remember our heated arguments and the unresolved feelings that still lingered between us.

"You're going to be fine," Charlie finally said, stepping back. "Just a few bruises and a mild concussion. You'll need to rest for a few days."

"Thanks," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then added, "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be around."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and frustration. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was relieved that Charlie was there, even if it meant facing the unresolved tension between us.

Charlie walked into the room, clipboard in hand, ready to do his job. "Alright, y/n, let's get this last check-up done," he said, his tone neutral.

I barely looked at him, my irritation clear. "Just get it over with," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Charlie sighed, trying to keep his cool. "I need you to cooperate, y/n. This is for your own good."

I rolled my eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Just do what you have to."

Charlie started the examination, but my attitude was getting under his skin. "You know, a little bit of cooperation would make this easier for both of us."

"Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I wouldn't be so annoyed," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie clenched his jaw, trying to stay professional. "I'm just trying to help you. Could you at least try to meet me halfway?"

My eyes flashed with anger. "I don't need your help, Charlie. Just finish the check-up."

Charlie finally snapped. "Fine. But for the record, your attitude isn't helping anyone. I'm just doing my job."

I felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. "Whatever."

The rest of the check-up was done in tense silence, both of them stubbornly ignoring the underlying feelings that neither wanted to acknowledge.

Charlie couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "Y/n, just exactly what were you thinking? You could've been seriously hurt!" he snapped, his voice rising.

I glared at him, my own anger flaring up. "It wasn’t my fault! And why do you even care so much, Charlie? It's not like it matters to you!"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself but failing. "Of course it matters! You think I want to see you like this? You need to be more careful."

My eyes softened for a moment as I saw the genuine concern in his eyes. "Why does it matter to you, Charlie? Why do you care so much?"

He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between us. "Because... because I still care about you, y/n. I never stopped."

I felt a lump in my throat. Despite all the tension and unresolved feelings, there was something undeniable between us. "Charlie, I..."

He shook his head, cutting me off. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. I don't want to see you hurt again."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I promise."

As Charlie turned to leave, the unspoken words and lingering feelings between us seemed to fill the room, leaving both of us wondering what might happen next.

The years had softened some of our rough edges, and the intense rivalry that once defined our relationship had faded into a mutual respect.

The silence between us was comfortable, a stark contrast to our earlier years of constant bickering. As I sat in my hospital bed with charlie sitting next to it keeping me company, memories of our past interactions resurfaced, and we couldn't help but laugh at how far we had come.

Charlie broke the silence first. "You know, I used to watch you work and wonder how you managed to stay so focused. It drove me crazy," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I always thought you were just waiting for me to mess up. I guess I never realized you were actually... impressed."

We exchanged a look, and in that moment, it all clicked. The tension, the arguments, the stolen glances—it had all been fueled by something deeper. We had been too stubborn to see it back then, but now, it was undeniable. We had feelings for each other all along.

"Alright, y/n," Charlie began, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. "Let's go over a few things before you leave. First, you'll need to keep an eye on your—"

"—vital signs, particularly any changes in heart rate or blood pressure," I interjected, finishing his sentence with a knowing smirk.

Charlie sighed but continued. "Yes, exactly. And make sure you take your—"

"—pain medication as prescribed, but be mindful of any side effects like dizziness or nausea," I added, my tone light but confident.

He shot me a look, trying to hide his frustration. "Right. Also, you should avoid any strenuous activities for the next—"

"—48 hours, and gradually ease back into your normal routine," I said, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

Charlie couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, it's really hard to be the doctor here when you keep finishing my sentences."

I grinned. "Sorry, force of habit. But thanks for taking care of me, Charlie."

He smiled back, the tension easing. "Anytime. Just try not to make a habit of ending up on the patient side of things, okay?"

"Deal," she replied, her smile widening. And with that, the unspoken bond between them grew just a little bit stronger.

I walked back into the hospital, my heart racing a bit faster than usual. I had told myself I was just coming back to grab something I forgot, but deep down, I knew the real reason. I wanted to see Charlie again.

As I made my way through the familiar hallways, I spotted him at the nurses' station, engrossed in some paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I approached him, trying to appear casual.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, my voice steady. "I think I left my, uh, sweater in my the hospital room."

Charlie looked up, a smile spreading across his face when he saw me. "Y/n, hey! I can help you look."

We walked together to the room , chatting about our day. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, but I tried to keep my cool. As we reached the room, she pretended to search for my sweater.

"Found it!" I exclaimed, holding up the sweater I had actually had all along.

Charlie laughed. "You know, you could have just said you wanted to see me."

I blushed, but I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I could have."

We stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Finally, Charlie broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad you came back. It's always nice to see you, y/n."

I felt my heart swell. "Same here, Charlie. Same here."

Charlie took a step closer, his eyes locking with mine. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. My breath hitched, my heart racing as I realized what was about to happen.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn't tentative or hesitant; it was passionate and full of years of pent-up feelings. The world outside the break room faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. I melted into the kiss, my hands finding our way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Charlie smiled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he whispered.

I laughed lightly, my eyes sparkling. "Me too," I admitted. And just like that, the years of unresolved tension and hidden feelings began to unravel, leading us toward a new chapter together.

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ TAKE ME TO CHURCH [T.M.R.] ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: domestic violence, mentions of murder (it’s tom riddle are we even surprised?)

summary: At the hour of the owl, driven by anger and hurt, you left your dorm and wandered towards the Black Lake. There you encounter Tom Riddle. Your enigmatic conversation with your academic rival took an unexpected turn, leaving you with more questions than answers as you headed back to the castle.

pairing: tom riddle x ravenclaw fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is a draft that I didn’t plan on posting but I’m so busy atm I don’t have time to write anything else 🥲 again english is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes! as always my inbox is open and I’m happy to hear any criticism or requests as long as you are polite 🤍 not incredibly proud of this but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <333

It was the hour of the owl when you left your dorm room. Strictly forbidden, yes, but as a prefect—even if off-duty that evening—you were willing to risk detention. Quite unusual for an obedient Ravenclaw like yourself, but here you were, sneaking out like a thief in the night.

“Oh, bloody hell,” you muttered, consumed by anger that clouded your thoughts. Hatred and adrenaline coursed through your veins. The Ravenclaw common room was empty; everyone else was already in bed, even those who usually stayed up late. No one would see or question your departure. It was nearly three in the morning, dark and silent.

You made your way across the empty common room and down the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, not entirely sure where you were going, but driven by a need to escape everything. The ancient Hogwarts castle was cold and empty, its walls whispering secrets. Some might find the silence unsettling, but you found it oddly comforting. The cool evening breeze was soothing against your warm skin, though you would likely regret leaving your sweater behind later. Dressed in your usual uniform—a skirt, a white button-up, and the silver-blue tie— you moved carefully through the deserted halls, avoiding even the faintest creak.

The castle felt unimaginably vacant. Your anger had begun to ebb, replaced by a gradual calmness. The walk and fresh air had helped. As you meandered through the halls, you decided to venture outside the castle. It wasn’t entirely safe, but you had your wand and weren't afraid of the dark anymore. The stars shone brightly above, and your worries seemed to drift away.

Heading towards the Black Lake to clear your mind, you noticed a figure on the shore. Your heart raced with fear. Quickly gripping your wand, you crept closer, only to recognize the familiar figure of Tom Riddle. His jet-black hair, piercing dark eyes, and imposing stature could not be mistaken. The sight of him was both intimidating and oddly magnetic.

“Riddle,” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet. As he turned, his wand aimed at the ready, you saw his defensive stance relax.

“Y/L/N,” Tom said, his tone sharp as ever. “It is rather uncouth to approach someone unannounced.”

You had never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. What began as a snarky rivalry in your first year had escalated into a fierce competition. Each of you tried to outdo the other, pushing boundaries and limits, reveling in victories and defeats. Despite your mutual animosity, there was an undeniable, if twisted, connection between you. Tom was not like other boys; he was cold, calculating, and ruthless. Yet, he maintained a facade of the humble, ambitious scholar. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and though you would never admit it, you found his intensity compelling.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t my intention, Riddle. My apologies,” you replied sarcastically.

As you approached, you noticed Tom’s irritated expression and the cigarette he had dropped. He took out another one, lit it with his wand, and took a drag before addressing you.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Y/L/N,” he said, ignoring your remark. “It’s never easy with you, is it?”

“You’re the one to talk,” you retorted. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Tom’s unimpressed glance betrayed his indifference. “Well, I’m delighted to catch you off guard.”

The sight of him indulging in such a muggle habit was unexpected. Given his staunch pureblood beliefs, it was surprising. But you supposed it made sense, considering his upbringing in a muggle orphanage. Where he got the cigarettes from was another mystery.

His reaction to your mention of muggles was intense. “I have nothing to do with those filthy creatures. The mere idea is offensive. Muggles are obsessed with pleasure, indulgence, and waste. They are nothing but animals in disguise.”

Tom’s passionate tirade was one of his defining traits. His ability to articulate his disdain with such fervor was both disturbing and strangely admirable. You had learned to disregard his over-the-top responses, focusing instead on his more genuine moments.

“Merlin, Riddle, calm down. It was just a question,” you said, trying to remain unfazed.

“And I am just answering you,” he countered, his demeanor quickly reverting to his usual composed facade. He took another drag of his cigarette, and a heavy silence settled between you.

After a moment, he broke the quiet. “So what is an obedient Ravenclaw like yourself doing out at this hour? I thought breaking the rules wasn’t your style.” His smirk was maddening.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the earlier anger fading, replaced by an uncomfortable shudder of vulnerability. Tom noticed the change in your demeanor and his expression grew serious. His perceptiveness was unnerving, a reminder of why you found it hard to trust him fully.

“Well, it’s stupid really. Foolish,” you admitted, defeated.

Tom raised an eyebrow, puffing smoke as you locked eyes. A silent understanding passed between you, a mutual recognition of the truth. You began to speak, revealing the turmoil behind your nighttime escapade.

You sat on the edge of your bed, struggling to focus on your assignments late into the evening.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your quill scratching parchment and the occasional rustle of pages. All your dormmates were out at a Gryffindor party celebrating their victory over Slytherin in the Quidditch match. You weren't worried about their early return; it was Friday, and with no classes the next day, they were likely to be out until afternoon, lost in firewhisky or other indulgences. They'd tried to drag you along, but you'd claimed a severe headache and a need for rest. None of them believed you, dismissing your excuses with rolled eyes and playful jabs.

As they left, one of them teased,

"Have fun trying to turn rubbish into a raccoon dog," and they all laughed.

You rolled your eyes, knowing their words were harmless. You were close friends who respected each other deeply; this was just part of your dynamic.

Just as you were settling into the quiet, a sudden interruption shattered the peace. Someone opened your dorm room door, and annoyance flared at the disruptive noise. "Jane, is that you? Because I swear on my mother's-" you began scolding as you turned, but your words faltered when you saw the dark mop of slicked-back hair. It was your boyfriend, Wiglaf Siggurdson.

"Sorry to disappoint," he chuckled, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You were relieved it wasn't one of the girls, but his presence did little to uplift your mood. You liked Wiglaf; he was smart, confident, and everything a girl could wish for. Yet, you often questioned if you truly loved him, if you loved him enough to be with him. He was the one who had asked you to be his girlfriend, and being the polite person you were, you had accepted. He came from a wealthy family, had impeccable manners, played Quidditch, and was almost perfect in every way. But you appreciated him more as a friend and couldn't bring yourself to admit it. You tried hard to convince yourself that he was the one, but your heart wouldn't comply. He was kind, brought you flowers, carried your books, walked you to classes, and treated you like the most special girl on earth. Yet, his presence stirred a surge of irritation.

"I was studying, you know, before you decided to interrupt me unannounced," you said stiffly, turning back to your work. Wiglaf stood in the middle of the room, unsure of how to proceed.

"So, no greeting? No 'Hello, my dear boyfriend who decided to ditch a party to come and see me'?" he remarked sarcastically. "And it's not like you're not always studying.

Nothing new really," he muttered under his breath. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Well, I didn't ask you to come see me," you said matter-of-factly without turning around. His frustration was evident as he moved closer to you.

"And not all of us have a rich father to secure a job at the Ministry as soon as we graduate, you know," you said, tone sharp. He sat beside you and sighed heavily. Dressed in a blue sweater and casual dress pants, he looked dejected.

"And not all of us have a rich father to secure a job at the Ministry as soon as we graduate, you know," you said, tone sharp. He sat beside you and sighed heavily. Dressed in a blue sweater and casual dress pants, he looked dejected.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," he said softly. You still refused to look at him. "Sure," you mumbled, uninterested.

"And anyway, if you marry me, you won't have to worry about things like that," he added, beaming with self-satisfaction. You froze, trying to process his words. "Excuse me?" you said, clearly offended. It wasn't unusual for women not to work after graduation, but you had made it clear that you intended to. His casual joke about it now was hurtful. You had hoped he understood you better. Even if you did marry him, you wanted to work and maintain your

independence. You didn't want to rely on anyone, especially not someone you weren't sure you truly loved.

"What's up with you?" Wiglaf groaned. "You're always so wound up and offended by everything I say.

You're always busy studying, and it's always some excuse for why you can't go or can't do this or that. You never actually want to spend time with me." His voice rose with anger. "So far, I'm the only one putting any effort into this relationship It's supposed to be a two person job.”

You frowned and buried your face in your hands. "Wiglaf, I'm not in the mood for this right now. I want to study and go to sleep. Can we please save this lecture for another time?" you said wearily.

"No!" he thundered unexpectedly.

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to treat me like some dog on a leash," he hissed. You sighed, exasperated. "Oh, come on, stop acting childish, Wiglaf," you said, rolling your eyes as you began packing up your papers. You had no intention of continuing this argument; all you wanted was to go to bed.

"I come here, ditching all my mates to spend time with my girlfriend, who doesn't even bother to greet me, and now I'm the one acting childish?" He stood up, his frustration reaching a crescendo. "Oh, please," you muttered, standing up as well. As you tried to gather your papers, they slipped from your hands as Wiglaf gripped your wrists. The sudden contact shocked you, and your eyes widened in surprise.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson," he said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. You could see the lust taking over his gaze. "Wiglaf, let go of me. I'm not in the mood right now," you said, your patience fraying.

But he was too enraged to listen. He pulled you closer, his grip painful.

"Wiglaf, let go! You're hurting me!" you protested, struggling against his hold. Instead of relenting, he pressed himself against you and forcefully kissed you, gripping your face and preventing you from breaking free. In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked him in the shin. The contact caused him to release you, and he hunched over in pain. You stood there, stunned by your own actions while he grunted, recovering from the kick.

The room was silent except for his pained breathing.

When he regained his composure, his eyes burned with rage. "Wiglaf, I-" you started, but before you could finish, he slapped you across the face.

The force of the blow left you reeling, and you felt the sting and warmth of blood on your lips. Wiglaf stood there, stunned, as if he couldn't fully grasp what he had just done.

Your fight-or-flight response kicked in, and you pushed past him, fleeing the room. He didn't try to follow you.

After a few moments, he collapsed on the floor, staring at the floorboards as he grappled with the gravity of his actions.

As you ran through Ravenclaw Tower, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you: shock, shame, disgust, guilt, sadness, and finally, red-hot seething anger. The only thought that brought you any comfort was the imagined cold, lifeless body of Wiglaf.

How could he do this after everything you had shared? It was unfathomable.

And that's how you found yourself sitting beside Tom Riddle on the shore of the Black Lake.

...and then I just left," you finished quietly. A heavy silence followed your explanation, and Tom's features darkened. You chuckled at the irony of it all. "Well, I suppose that's what l get for thinking that I-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence as Tom interrupted you. "I'm going to kill him." He stated plainly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You flinched at his violent intentions.

"What?" You quaked hoarsely. He couldn't be serious... could he?

"You heard me." Tom's eyes were sharp as he took a few steps closer. But you never knew Tom Riddle to be the type to joke about things like that.

"He dared lay a hand on what's mine, and now he's going to pay for it." His tone was cold.

What's his? By day, you were nothing but an academic rival to Tom Riddle, but by night, you were suddenly his treasured possession? What a twisted mind indeed. You sighed at his words, rubbing your temples, trying to make sense of everything. "Tom, you can't just-"

"Yes, I can and I will. Because tell me, do you not think about me when he's inside of you, when you touch yourself, when you wake up in the morning? You don't love him, Y/N. We both know it. And don't try to deny it. I see right through you." His voice was dark. "And don't tell me what I can and can't do. That's not for you to decide."You were stunned, your mind blank.

Tom Riddle was a confusing enigma.

One moment he hated you, the next he was willing to kill for you. For him, it was all the same. Wiglaf would just be another addition to his growing collection of Horcruxes. It was a win-win for him: a Horcrux, the removal of an annoyance, and you-all in one plan. Three birds, one stone.

Tom's body was now facing yours, and his cold hands brushed a stray hair from your forehead. "Don't waste your mind on people like him. I don't even know why you're with that dimwit..." he muttered quietly. His fingers traced the curve of your lip and the bloody spot Wiglaf's assault had left. As he touched you, the fire in your body reignited, and the magic you only felt around him came to life.

You never felt this way around Wiglaf.

With Tom, it was like you were alive for the first time. You burned for him.

You loved him. He knew it, and you knew it. Yet both of you understood it could never work. Your ambitions were far too... different.

You let your head rest on his palm, closing your eyes for a moment, letting all your worries fade away. Dreaming about a world in which Tom was capable of loving you. Or perhaps a world in which you were able to go against your moral compass and accept his twisted mind. You kissed his palm gently and then pulled away.

"I ought to get back to the castle before someone catches us. We'll both be in trouble." You cleared your throat and spoke.

Tom simply hummed in response.

Reluctantly, you moved away and started for the castle. Before you got too far, you turned to speak softly so he could hear you. "Good night, Tom."

His gaze was on you, but he didn't reply. You continued your way back to the castle, his eyes following your retreating form. When you were far enough away that Tom was sure you couldn't hear him, he spoke softly,

"Good night, my love."

The next morning, you didn't see Wiglaf at his usual spot at the breakfast table. You approached one of his mates to inquire about his whereabouts, wondering if he was hungover or something. But as you spoke to him, a look of concern crossed his face, and he regretfully explained that Wiglaf had ended up in the hospital wing the night before. No one knew how or why.

You felt a pair of eyes on you and turned to the Slytherin table. There they were: two onyx eyes staring back at you, deep into your soul, letting you know that once again, he had emerged victorious.

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