#oh the essay i could write on how much i DESPISE her

[emmavakarian-theirin]

ISOLDE.

[gorjee-art]

Are there any things you like that are bad? As in quality or execution, not morality. I also mean like, rancid. There is very little, if anything, redeeming about it, beyond it meaning something to you. I don't mean So Bad It's Good either, (Examples of that being The Room or Shadow The Hedgehog 2005) it just isn't allowed to be good. I suffer from too much recency bias and a poor memory to think of any examples of this for me. Except maybe Big's Campaign from SA1? I haven't played it recently enough to know if it's truly as bad as people say and if I just enjoyed suffering as a child or if they were simply not as good as me at holding the A button down.

Oh this is easy for me, anything from Vivzie Pop's work. Ho-kay! Ho-kay...put the pitchforks down, and let me explain myself.

I am the type of person who is critical and picky with most things regarding media, I am the movie critic snob who puts her nose up at any sign of error or distasteful writing. My inner critic is basically this, regarding everyone else and even me.

I also know how to let things go and let people enjoy things without having to share my opinion, which Helluva Boss is my greatest self-guilty pleasure. I am in the middle of the lovers and the haters and I agree with both.

The writing is AWFUL, and so slapped together last minute, there was little to no planning for the story other than "I really like the idea of this relationship so I will decide to let it take over the entire show that's about imps doing murder". Not to mention the famous sailor mouth on EVERYONE. There is little difference in mannerisms regarding dialogue and that drives me up the wall, I could make a 10-page essay on how I absolutely despise every single little thing about it...

but I also just adore it...I love the characters! Fizzarolli is the first character in a WHILE I genuinely relate to on a close level, and the songs. GOD the music, it's so catchy and wonderful, All 2 U and House of Asmodeus are something I've been humming to myself for a long time. As much as I hate to say this...I love Stolas and Blitzo's dynamic as well, I am grossly passionate about them and wish they were written BETTER, I love the idea between a royal and a clown, the king and their precious jester, the prince and their knight. I love all the tiny details in Apology Tour and I HATE THAT I DO.

I just desperately want this show to be good but it only has...moments. of greatness. if that makes sense, and that frustrates me to hell and back. It feels like fanfiction, not a show, it feels like someone who really likes this relationship did it. Not the official thing, and I really sometimes wish Stolas and Blitz' were not the focus of the show, cute as they are. It was about hitmen doing their job in ludicrously silly and cruel ways because they're...imps! cruel cruel imps! that's their go-to! I didn't go into this show expecting a touching oddly sultry romance.

but, I'll keep my mouth shut, and ignore my inner hypocrisy I learned a long time ago that people should just...enjoy things.

[hotd-brainrot]

I think I figured out what personally bothered me sm in this season of HOTD. And it wasn't (only) the fact that it didn't align with F&B.

I feel like the writers forgot, if not completely disregarded almost everything they established in the second part of seasons 1?

I expected Aemond's entire arc of becoming a villian, but not against his own faction? And the thing is, if they truly wanted to go for it, it was doable, but they went way too fast with it and in ways that made no sense? In season 1, yes, we see Aegon bullying Aemond when they were kids, but then during the dinner scene we clearly see they bonded since then and have each others' back. If anyone from the green kids is isolated in that scene, it's Helaena.

In the beginning of s2, they seem to go along with that, have Aegon implicitly trust Aemond, inviting him to his council, not believe Larys when he says it's Aemond plotting with Alicent to rule in his stead. Then there is a brothel scene which is on all accounts awful, but fine. Let's say for a moment Aegon is grieveing and reverts back to his old habits of humiliating Aemond as a way to cope.

Why don't we see more of Aemond's reaction when he is alone? He humiliates him at the council, which makes sense to make them even. Shows he is more in control.

But trying to kill him? And doing so in a way that's clearly pre-planned since he tells Vhagar to wait? It feels like such a jump with no build-up, especially since we have his express regret over killing Lucerys! He shows, Lucerys, who cut out his eye more grace then he does his own brother who we see him support on multiple occasions? What?

And again! If they really wanted to go with this route, why not show Aegon taunting him and embarrassing him on more occasions? Show Aegon distrusts him or undermining him? It would have been so easy.

Also. If they truly wanted to go for "oh, Aemond burned his bully and abuser" then why tf did they have Helaena suddenly defend Aegon? She says he ignores her except for when he is drunk. We get exactly one scene of them together (I am not counting them passing each other on the stairs bc that was...something) where they disagree on if Jaehaerys should go to a small council or not. Despite the fact they lose a child, we don't see them interact at all, and I am supposed to think Helaena is meant to care for him enough to wish death upon Aemond because he burned him? From what they have showed us, I didn't get the feeling Helaena particularly cared for either of her brothers.

Perhaps she does, but we are never shown this??? Like, at all?? Insanity.

But so we don't say I only talk about the Greens, I think the Blacks have a similar issue? Rhaenyra is the only one we see(kind of) care for her family. What about Daemon? Baela? Rhaena?

Listen, I am not saying Daemon, similarly to Aemond is a great person, but I genuinely despise how they made his whole character about Rhaenyra? Did they forget he has two daughters from his marriage to Laena and two sons with Rhaenyra? The only interaction he has with Baela is in episode two and he ignores her!

Rhaenyra sends Rhaena away without a word from Daemon. Rhaena doesn't even bring him up! It's not even "What did my father say to this idea?" Type of situation. Hello??

Even if they wanted to go with "Daemon is a bad father" we see him face pretty much no consequences for it? He hallucinates Laena asking him if he took care of their girls before it's swept up under a rug again. Baela says she sometimes thinks she hates him, but then it turns into another conversation about Jace's parentage.

I also have no idea how we are meant to care for Aegon iii and Viserys later on bc they are A) aged down and B) so irrelevant and unnmentioned I almost forgot they were there at all while making this post.

I could write another essay on Alicent and Rhaenyra but I feel like there have been much better posts on them already but just...what is going on??

Did the writers forget the core of the story was meant to be Targaryen family? Fucked up family, yes, absolutely, but the point was that the war of ravens started because they all wished for power, but the war of fire and blood started because they started killing each other. If they don't care for one another, if they are not family, what IS the point? Why do they keep fighting? For power and revenge? No, no, for feminism and peace!

Give me a break. Genuinely. It's not even about it being inaccurate to the book anymore, it's about the characters losing their central motivations and only letting the plot happen to them, instead of being actuve participants. That's why everyone loved side characters more than main ones! At least they are making active choices!

[wordsandrobots]

[The following is not an essay. It is the author's attempt to grapple with the despair at losing something important to him, presented in hopes someone in a similar situation may know such things are worth grappling with.]

Apropos of Doctor Who's triumphant return to having writing and direction I can actually care about again, I've been reflecting on how much casual 'Moffat-hate' irritates me.

Obviously, I need to unpack that a bit.

I'm talking about the reflexive antagonism towards Steven Moffat's era as show-runner, writing tics, writing in general, moment of centrality to British TV and so on that I am no doubt going to run into if I go anywhere near Doctor Who reviews and analysis again. A sneer about perceived sneering here, another repetition of a narrative-construction gripe there. The regurgitation of old arguments because there is a strong contingent of people who loathe that era and Moffat in general, who have every right to that opinion, and who can quite reasonably bring it up when talking about Russel T Davies' new, second era of running the show, however that shakes out.

The me-problem here is, I loved a lot of 'the Moffat era' of Doctor Who when it was being broadcast. For whatever reason, it hit lots of nice buttons in my head and I had a grand old time watching it unfold. The 11th and 12th Doctors provided some really excellent examples of the show doing its best at what it does best. Indeed, 'Listen' may be my favourite example of a story delving into what Doctor Who is all about, ever.

But there is a degree to which my enjoyment is now perpetually enmeshed in defensiveness. Because the fandom was/is wild tangle of very strong opinions, much of them to the contrary, and that isn't likely to change any time soon.

[And for me personally, my best friend hates that era, which threw into sharp relief a lot of hang-ups I have around needing to justify the things I like. Having an emotional breakdown kind of sharp relief. That's not the sort of thing you just shrug off, even after all this time.]

To be clear, I am not here to defend Steven Moffat. I do not give a rat's arse about Sherlock – it was enjoyable at the time but I can't say it registered beyond 'a thing it was fun to watch once' – and I actively despise Twice Upon A Time, the last 12th Doctor story, for pretty much the exact reasons I think most people rag on Moffat's other work. It is a story ostensibly in conversation with a piece of source material that instead only concerns itself with the refracted, pop-cultural version of said thing, for the sake of being constructed like a joke.

Which in general is an approach far better suited to Doctor Who – a series progressively layering 'canon' atop stories that could not be recalled as anything other than half-remembered versions of themselves for a very long time – than it would ever be for something like Sherlock Holmes. Even if I didn't like Twice Upon A Time, I can at least forgive it as a wider pattern and oh for goodness sake, I've started defending the man anyway, haven't I?

You see the problem. I can't make a critique with any teeth because I am braced for the whole to be dismissed even as I home in on the specific part I wish to unpack. Must I defend a writer in toto because I vibed with one piece of their corpus? I don't think I would for anyone else and yet here we are. This is probably why I count myself lucky to have never been deeply invested in Doctor Who fandom in the communal sense, online or off. This and the people who fawn over the racist giant rat story.

[Talons of Weng-Chiang is a Yellow Peril tale, straight up, nothing else. It also jobs Leela, rendering her forever 'the savage' despite the entire point of her introduction being a rejection of the superstitions imposed on her people and thereafter proving herself extremely capable in new and strange situations. It was also written in Britain in the 70s so this is almost self-explanatory. Just fucking own the fact you enjoy the production values and excellent cast while accepting it's indefensible to claim this is the best the classic series produced, you chronic dipsticks.]

See, I can do it with other examples of what I dislike, bare my teeth and go for the throat. But few people argue we should write off Robert Holmes' extensive contribution to the series because he did a massive racism on account of being a British writer in the 70s. Maybe they should. I don't know.

What I do know is, I understand why the 11th and 12th Doctor eras work for me. I am a white cis man who thought he was straight when they started airing and who is exactly the kind of Doctor Who fan who'd want to solve the regeneration limit with a Five Doctors reference. I never felt like Moffat's grand arcs were talking down to me because, I suspect, I was the kind of person most easily able to imagine I was in on the joke by the end. Then again, the writer who's done some of the most extensive analysis and defence of this era is a trans American woman, whose work did more for my appreciation of Doctor Who history than anyone else. So – yeah.

When I said 'irritate', I meant exactly that. This whole topic is a burr, making it difficult to revisit things I once enjoyed. Maybe this would be the case anyway. I have grown a lot since then. So did Steven Moffat, over the course of writing more Doctor Who than any other person ever. He gave us gender-flipping regeneration, tried colour-blind casting and when it failed to make a difference, specifically cast for a black lesbian. And he revisited Donna's ending with an eye on querying the moral failure of it long before RTD2 wrapped around to the same point. Why should I look kinder on his predecessor, who presided over the abusive shit-show that was the production of the 2005 revival season and yet gets to come back to save the programme again?

Oh, yes. The writing. But Russel T Davies annoys me just as much in some places as Moffat does other people. So it goes. Although I suppose Moffat did hire Toby Whithouse to write the central part of Bill's arc and it was a chauvinistic wet fart because it was Toby Whithouse. He also worked for ages with Mark Gattis, whose writing I could shred on similar grounds. And around and around we go, sniping and arguing which of the middle-aged British guys tried their best, or wrote the worst.

[I am still mourning what Chris Chibnall's era of Doctor Who turned out to be. I was so hyped for getting Jodi Whittaker as the Doctor and then we hit Kerblam! and the oldest, most foundational piece of my inner cultural map no longer felt like something I wanted to be a part of. So yeah, he's the worst, for allowing that story to go out, 'the system isn't the problem, it's the people' and all. That's my 'hot-take', years too late. The man wasted dozens of excellent, interesting, diverse writers and actors on what is ultimately, in my opinion, the most mediocre crap since the Saward Era and his big contribution to the series going forward is to fanwank in an explanation for the Morbius!Doctors that essentially makes the Doctor the specialest special whoever specialed.]

At least Moffat previously made some attempt to spork the god!Doctor approach, before deciding they should textually be the reason evil doesn't triumph in the universe. Sadly, that endpoint seems inevitable. We're long past the days of the Doctor being a university drop-out, bumbling around the universe, interfering from the edges. Pick your saccharine alternative, I guess.

What was I talking about before I dived into my own bitterness and angry fan-ranting? How much people deriding one sitcom writer for his faults and prominence within a particular era of big British TV that sparked vast swathes of internet discourse continues to be an aspect of Doctor Who meta? How that makes me feel? Hah. Who cares?

There's no widely applicable point here, just an emotional sore making me wonder if I'm ready to 'get back into' Doctor Who. Because yes, actively being revolted by the Chibnall Era is the real reason I fell out with the show. And yes, maybe I've just grown beyond the point where Doctor Who satisfies, full-stop (let's leave the political rant about The Zygon Inversion for another time; I'll only be repeating other people). But sitting here, being honestly, genuinely delighted by The Star Beast and Wild Blue Yonder in ways I'd frankly forgotten I could be by Doctor Who . . . there's a still part of me that doesn't want to risk going back and running into those same old arguments. I've seen them before. They're boring. They annoy me. I don't have the energy to deal with it. And I haven't yet worked out how to thicken my skin against them.

Someday, maybe, I will sort the love for Doctor Who I had since I was six and watching Peter Cushing romp around in glorious Technicolor from a factional fandom pissing match I didn't even play a part in. I never was someone who picked fights online over this or tried to make grand sweeping arguments about why X, Y or Z was better. I want to be mellow about differing tastes and just like what I like. I certainly don't want to be the kind of person who rags endlessly on things I didn't enjoy, which is why the emotional outburst above is about as far as I'm prepared to go in talking publicly about the 13th Doctor's run.

[I want to go back. I want to love Doctor Who again, flaws and all. I probably will regardless of this. I am not making a plea concerning fandom's nature. I am neither asking for grace nor extending it. The answer is undoubtedly to carry on along the sidelines, a skulking hermit-crab of a Whovian. Yet the burr remains, the grief sticks and the solid ground of a long-held interest remains cracked. Perhaps that is growth. Self-examination does not entitle one to set discoveries aside, job done, card stamped, and return to pleasures-as-were. Yet I can't deny the raw emotional urgh that comes of hearing the same punches struck over and over, about a portion of the show that at least tried.]

Ultimately, however, I like picking apart the things I enjoy and I enjoy watching others do likewise. And I don't get to do that here without cautiously curating my experience to avoid the ten billionth iteration of ten-year-old internet arguments.

I'll keep doing it, obviously.

But it is irritating.

[This post brought to you by listening to El Sandifer's podcast about The Star Beast. Eruditorum Press is a great site for fascinating media analysis and her TARDIS Eruditorum series is well worth a read if you're interested in the show's development.]

[osteichthyens]

have you completed the interlude quest yet 👁️

i have.. and i literally read it all in leaks and then played it all the second version 3.3 dropped.. and i just.. gjdjfjjs dottoscara i love you so much 🫶

but i hate the irminsul erasure part with a passion though... as a jojo stan, i've got a deadly allergy to memory erasure tropes, because that stone ocean ending killed 14yo me really fucking hard.. so i felt ill for the entire day afterward 😭😭😭

(more thoughts and lots of spoilers after the divide gndnnd)

but anyway... lemme just.. more precisely lay out my thoughts :

- i kinda hate how niwa wasn't really mentioned anywhere before 3.3, except twice (once indirectly, in i don't remember what, and once in a flashback during the irodori festival, which was a limited time event), but then.. oh, apparently he was an important guy and is actually kazuha's ancestor that we saw in the cutscene.. like aight...??? still shipping nameless eccentric scara with npc ass katsuragi, though. he's the one who rescued him from his lovely prison, and who did a sword dance with him.. and i wanna draw him climbing that guy like a tree gkdkfkdk

- mihoyo are just cowards again and should fuck off with that 'ball joints that disappear with time' bullshit

- i love how much of a poor little meow meow scara truly is, and i could write a whole ass essay on how much i love the toxic waste of a relationship he had with dottore. unhealthy ships like that are just... my raison d'être 😭😭

and for poor little meow meow scara, well... la signora said, 'you're only sixth because you're better than humans at enduring dottore's abuse and torture...' ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

and ough. 'if he proves to be useful, let's make him one of our comrades, and if he isn't, let's turn him to dust' or something... he wasn't a harbinger, he was an asset.. 🫶

- scara and childe are both abyss connaisseurs, which is really funny, because scara, literally a puppet made by the electro archon, came back broken af everytime, while childe, a normal human kid, came out of there with only a newly acquired thirst for blood and some heretical teachings from the abyss under his wing, thanks to skirk. and also no more light in his eyes, but that's just a small detail.

- and speaking of no light in his eyes, scara without the trauma was so airheaded and baby.. and i understand dottore there, somewhat, because i also wanted to ruin him

- but again, the memory erasure kinda ruined a big part of the story for me. like,, guy just has the option to never face the consequences of his actions, ever, now. and also, even if he wants to take revenge on dottore for all the shit he made him go through, he's probably just gonna be faced with a 'who are you again??' so. meh. dislike that part a lot. especially so soon after the same happened to rukkhadevata. so, unless mihoyo make the harbingers remember him somehow, in a later quest, i'm gonna keep being salty

- last but not least, because i'm shit at sorting out my thoughts and i've got a lot more i'm leaving out to make this answer Not a whole ass novel : i love how people are finally realising that miko was literally never the 'evil mother in law' that some people in the fandom thought she was. i despised seeing her mischaracterised so much, and as both a miko and scara stan, i just.. guys why

but now it's good and i hope people learn to read and to not just hate women for no reason gnejfj ❤️

and ok now i've run my mouth way too much, so p.s.

trans and bpd-haver scara real 🫶

[thephoebeyates]

Phoebe was worried she had deeply offended the professor, the look she was levelled with completely…well, like one a cross mother would give to their disobedient child. The intern had never been on the receiving end of it herself, but had caught Linc’s mom giving him that look, and a few other of her childhood friends when they were dared to be told ‘no’ by their parents. Lisa had given Phoebe her own fair share of looks, sure, but they were more pure exasperation or desperation; the scared sixteen year old with no support system begging her willful child to see she was doing her best, even if in hindsight she wasn’t.  

Still, before she could stammer out an explanation of sorts without seeming too sad, Terry seemed to click what Phoebe meant, though it didn’t necessarily stop how her heart was racing in pure panic, knowing she wouldn’t feel settled until she shared her own piece. “I’m sure you’re a great mom to Micah.” She assured, as if they needed it. “I just…my mom was one to…uh, fly the nest herself a lot?” Perhaps the bird talk might have been insulting, though any other euphemisms had fallen out of Phoebe’s head in her desperation to right this wrong. “But yeah, not all moms succeed.”

If Lisa could see Phoebe now, with her internship and her apartment and her successful head-chef boyfriend, would she be proud? Would she claim the credit of raising such a bright young girl? Or would her jealousy flare up, finding another reason to despise her daughter for having a life she never had, because of a stupid mistake her teenage self made? Phoebe didn’t want to think about it, pushing the thoughts of her own messy family tree to that of the Weissbergs instead.

“The Weissberg office, yeah. I, uh, know Saul actually. We met through my old boss, Nilay?” She referred to the anthropologist she had name-dropped earlier, deciding not to delve too much into her pseudo uncle and niece dynamic she had with the lawyer. It wasn’t due to some twisted sense of inferiority like she had with Theodora, but more concern about how Terry might have reacted, due to Saul’s anecdotes. If they’d be upset at the weird, yet comforting, relationship she had found with their ex-husband.

“I’m not entirely sure what the age-range will be. It’s one of those private companies that are open to all backgrounds,” Due to confidentiality, Phoebe couldn’t find out who exactly was attending the same time she was, but the information on the website sated most of her curiosity. “Oh, I’m not entirely sure, I’ve been trying out a bunch of different styles and genres. I normally write love stories, but I’ve been reading a lot of published personal essays recently, which I find fascinating. Do you read much?”

The snort rupturing the stillness of the forest had been unexpected and, frankly, a bit displaced from the sentiment of the truth they’d offered. Motherhood, after all these years—or perhaps, especially after all those years—tended to be a sore subject, and Terry assumed that their honesty should not have been returned with an expression so blasé as a snort. Terry’s gaze sharpened at once and the corners of their lips tugged back down. Their eyes narrowed as their mind attempted to piece together what might have provoked her unexpected laughter—and perhaps, in subtle challenge—though she was quick to explain. 

A case-by-case basis? The knee-jerk sting of offense simmered as she continued her explanation. The words circled back to her, laced with sincerity and an offer of her own truth. Their features softened, back to their earlier form of casual curiosity. “Well, I’ve tried my best to be a more positive case.” At the brief flash of their own maternal regrets, they willed their eyes to flicker downward for a small second, burying the thought in the damp earth. “Not all mothers succeed,” they replied. 

Only then do they understand the weight of her initial expression. Their gaze flitted back to the other’s features, scanning her expression for any subtle shifts that might lay there, as they continued, “I suppose your gut reaction tells me what I need to know.” An invitation was issued, there, to elaborate if need be—but in the absence of a real protruding, their eyes only shone with understanding, extending a silent sympathy towards the younger woman. 

And the invocation of their son’s name pulled them back into reality, as it often did. “Yes, Micah. That’s him. He’s interning at that law office?” There was a half-hearted attempt at obscuring Micah’s association—and by extension, theirs—with the man who operated the law office in question, but they figured Phoebe would parse through the thought, anyway. It wasn’t like Micah’s father had made himself unknown in Blue Harbor. The very idea sounded ridiculous. He was a man always in motion, and the crowd was simultaneously with him and against him. Terry tended to fall in the latter more than most people. Micah, too. 

“Mhm, I understand what that’s like. I hope it will be productive. What are you hoping to write?” Terry began, idly wondering whether writing retreats and conferences and cross-country workshops might have been the future that their son, an English major, would’ve taken had they not gone through the more traditional route. “And you’d be with a lot of people, then? Graduate students, or?”

[spyderlady]

Patch me up, my love

(gif by dailymarvelgifs)

note: i have had zero motivation as of late as uni has been destroying me so i wanted to write something cute that wouldn't take up my entire brain so enjoy <3

ꗃ pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

ꗃ warnings: teeny tiny bit of gore but mostly fluffy kate <3

ꗃ word count: 1.8k

summary: a wounded kate shows up at your house and you patch her up

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

It was an awfully warm October night. The sky was murky, the pale, silver moon hid behind a blanket of grey rain clouds. The smell of damp earth in the air hinted at a downpour arriving soon. A small yawn escaped your lips as your eyes shifted to the clock on your desktop. It was quarter to two in the morning. You sighed, looking down at the binder beneath your palm. You had finally finished drafting the layout of an essay that was due tomorrow. Now it was time to type it all out. Your fingers slowly moved towards the various keys on your keyboard as they started typing a variety of letters one by one.

The past week had been rather slow and quite boring to say the least. Your Avenger girlfriend was off to a mission and you weren't thrilled about it in the slightest. You weren't delusional like the rest of the world who romanticised superhero life. You knew the risks that came along with being one and the sole thought of Kate never returning home from a mission has always terrified you, even though you knew for a fact that Kate was capable of quite literally anything. However, you mostly kept your thoughts to yourself as you didn't want to come off as the selfish, clingy girlfriend. And before these thoughts could consume you further, you quickly shifted your focus back onto the essay, but that didn't last long either. Your attention was swept away by a tap, almost like a knock on your window. You turned your head towards the sound and flinched at what you saw but were quickly comforted when realisation settled upon you.

Kate's dark, raven hair, the same shade as the inky night sky behind her, glistened under the silver moon. The glow from the white orb reflected against her dazzling sapphire eyes. The corners of her pale lips were lifted upwards into a shy smile. Her brows were upturned, the inner corners puckering a little. Your gaze moved to the thin stream of blood that dripped from the massive gash wound on her forehead. She lifted her right hand a little to wave at you while her other hand held the windowsill tightly so she wouldn't tumble down. Kate seemed awfully unbothered for a cut that deep in the front of her face.

You quickly rushed to your window, pressing the latch down to slide it open, "Kate, oh my god!" you cried out, grabbing her arm in your hands. You felt the rigid muscles of her bicep tighten even more under your grip as you pulled her in.

"Hey," she whispered in an apologetic voice while carefully standing up on the narrow windowsill as you helped her in. She stepped into your room, leaning down a little so she wouldn't hit her head on the wooden frame. Once inside, she threw her bow on the floor and her body slumped onto the couch by the window. A groan left her lips, "Patch me up, will you, my love?" she said in a dramatic tone, scrunching her nose at you a little.

"Katherine Bishop, how are you so calm about this?" you questioned, authoritatively as you simultaneously shut the window behind you.

"Because you're here, my love," she murmured, a subtle grin appearing on her blood smeared lips.

You groaned, rolling your eyes at her. You made your way to the kitchen as you quickly filled a bowl with lukewarm water and a few spoonfuls of sea salt. You opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out the small white first-aid box that you had solely prepared for a situation like this. Deep down you knew a day like this would've come, regardless of how much you despised the thought of a wounded Kate showing up at your doorstep...or your window. But as of this moment, patching up Kate was your priority so you quickly rushed back to your bedroom.

You couldn't help but smile a little as you saw Kate lie so comfortably on your couch, her legs crossed as her hands rested on the armrest. You walked over to her side with the supplies and crouched in front of her, placing the supplies on the table beside. Kate opened her eyes slightly to look at you. Her rough, blood stained hand reached out to grab your arm as she tugged onto it lightly, signalling you to sit on her lap. That's when you noticed a cluster of tiny cuts all across her arm.

"No, Kate. Not now, you're hurt," you said while you dipped a cloth into the bowl of water. After pulling it out, you squeezed the excess liquid and looked up at her.

"Please, trust me," she insisted, tapping your arm with her fingers.

God, Katherine. You're so stubborn. You thought to yourself as you slowly got up and gently sat on her lap. You didn't want to put all your weight on her, it didn't feel right to but it was Kate and nothing would stop her if she had made up her mind. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer as she leaned towards you, nuzzling her nose into the crook of your neck.

"Careful. Let me see your face," you ordered, cupping her face lightly and turning it towards you. Her eyes were shut but a very faint smile was visible on her bruised lips. You patted the moist cloth on the cut as Kate moaned softly every now and then. You dipped the cloth in water frequently and repeated the process a few times to clean the wound.

"I've got a door, you know?" you finally broke the silence as you picked up the bottle of antiseptic solution and a few cotton pads from the table.

Kate's eyes slowly fluttered open, a subtle smirk now accompanying the mellow smile from earlier. "Yeah, I know," she whispered, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as she gently cupped your face, "I like the window better. Much more thrilling," she added, smugly. She leaned forward a little to tenderly press her lips to yours. You very gently reciprocated the action for you didn't want to hurt her but you realised how desperately you missed this. The way she held you ever so gently, the way her warm breath pecked your skin before her lips found yours, the way you felt her grinning as she parted from the kiss.

The corners of your lips had lifted up to form a gentle smile. You exhaled softly before pouring the antiseptic onto the pads. You dabbed the pad gently onto Kate's wound and felt her suppress a groan under her breath.

"This may sting a little," you whispered, examining the cut.

Kate nodded, squeezing her eyes shut but quickly threw her resolve away as you patted the wound with a little more solution. "Motherfu-" she paused but you noticed her fist on your waist that had tightly scrunched up the fabric of your shirt in it. You pulled the pad away but you couldn't help but smile at Kate's gesture. You leaned forward to blow some air at the wound to cool the stinging down a bit. After the wound was clean, you placed a piece of gauge on the cut and held it in place using surgical tape. Finally, you applied an antiseptic ointment on the minor cuts that were scattered all over her face and arms.

Once you had finished patching her up, Kate wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer as she buried her face in the hollows of your neck.

"You've got to be more careful, Katherine," you whispered, caressing her cheek with the tips of your fingers.

"I know," she mumbled into your neck, tightening her grasp on your waist.

"As much as I love what you do, I really don't want you to do something reckless. I don't care what the stakes are," you added, wrapping the roll of gauge back into the casing. The words sounded extremely selfish once you repeated what you just said in your head but now you didn't care. Kate mattered to you and you were going to voice your concern before it was too late.

Kate sat up straight, her sapphire eyes meeting yours. The reminiscence of a deep sorrow was visible in them. Her hand reached up to touch your cheek as she caressed it. The rough surface of her palm gently stroking every inch of your skin.

"You know, people out there need me, love," she smiled a little, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. It had always pained Kate to choose between the two things she adored so dearly in her life. Her work and you.

You simply nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. A sigh left your lips before you spoke up, "I know, but...I need you too," you whispered, shyly.

A bright smile spread across Kate's face. Her hand cupped the back of your head as she pulled your face closer to hers. Her lips lingered over yours for a while before she broke the silence, "And you have me, love. You always will, I promise," she whispered against your lips before finally pressing her lips to yours. The warmth of her breath felt enticing and pulled you right in. Your lips weaved together as though they were meant to be.

A delicate smile was now visible on your lips as they parted away from Kate's. She giggled before gently touching her forehead to yours. The two of you stayed silent for a while before you spoke up, "Now rest. I'll get you something to eat," you whispered, slowly trying to get up but Kate grabbed your hand and tightly intertwined her fingers with yours.

"No. Stay," she whispered back, squeezing you gently in her arms.

"I won't be long," you replied with a faint smile while cradling her face in your hands.

A sigh left Kate's lips as she loosened her grip on you. She pressed her back on the couch and nodded gently. You smiled before getting up and letting her hand go. You were about to walk out of your room but that's when Kate called out to you, "Y/N," her raspy voice echoed through the confined walls of the room.

You paused in your tracks and turned around. But before you could reply, she continued, "I love you," her eyes were gleaming, her mouth curved into a pleasant smile.

Your face lit up at her words. "Oh, sweetheart, I love you too," you whispered, your voice slightly breaking.

Kate smiled widely at you before dropping her head back on the headrest and closing her eyes. You glanced at her one last time before walking out of your room as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold the tears that had welled up in your eyes from spilling out.

[finelinevogue]

could you write something about the readers parents not liking her and harry comforts her please

ok this is going to be quite sad and angsty so hold on tight!

Y/N was crying in her room. Again.

This was turning out to be a daily occurrence now. Wake up. Get shouted at. Go to school. Learn how to dissect a frog and master how to write the perfect essay. Come home. Get shouted at. Sleep. The weekends, she didn’t get all the good in-between stuff, it was just waking up to be shouted at.

For what? Well not even Y/N could answer that.

Her parents had despised her since the day she was born, or at least Y/N presumed. She was never allowed to go out without permission from her parents. She was not allowed to eat certain foods, because “she didn’t need to be any fatter”. She wasn’t supposed to wear anything inappropriate. She wasn’t allowed relationships. Although that last one, she cheated on.

Harry had been Y/Ns best friend all through high-school, until they reached college and Harry couldn’t wait any longer to make her officially his. He wanted her so badly. She was his best friend but he craved for more. It took Y/N a lot of persuading, but it was the best thing she’d ever done for herself. Harry was kind to her. He treated her with respect and love - something she’d never had from her parents.

Having a relationship whilst being instructed you weren’t allowed one, made things very difficult. Harry could only see Y/N when she allowed him to. After finishing chores she would tell her parents she was going to grab food or cleaning supplies from the grocery store, only to go and spend a few hours with Harry in his treehouse. She would always come back with a bag full of shopping and made sure she covered the hickeys on her neck well. It would be hard to explain their origin of those marks to her parents.

“Y/N!”

Her mum had never provided her with a nickname, only ever calling her by her proper name. Harry gave her nicknames and pet names galore; baby, honey, sweetheart, lovie, darling and petal to name but a few.

You had learnt that shouting back was “never okay” so you left your bedroom and walked down the stairs to find your mum, who’d just shouted for you.

“Yes mum?” You timidly asked, standing at the door with your fingers fiddling with each other.

Your mum turned and scoffed at the sight of you. “Oh Jesus Y/N! You look horrible. That dress is disgusting.” It just so happened to be your favourite dress - a simple, long - as necessary - white dress with pretty flowers embroidered in baby pink and blue across the skirt. It made you feel like a weightless princess. “Don’t you agree?” Your mum asked your dad.

“Oh yes. Too much fat showing.” Your dad lovingly commented back.

You looked down at yourself, thinking that maybe it was showing a bit too much skin and therefore showing off your fat. Harry always told you that you were completely beautiful - an angel - but it was hard to believe on days like this. You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort. Speaking back would only make things worse, so you took the verbal abuse as it came.

“Now,” your mum sat up a bit more, “i’m finding it really hard to look at you right now, Y/N, because i’m hurt by you.” Tears, fake of course, were forming in her eyes.

“W-why?”

“Mrs Tucker said she saw you and a young boy kissing outside the grocery store the other night - the same night you said you were going to pick up cleaning supplies.” Your heart dropped to your feet, because it was true. You had been with Harry. You’d never thought about anyone catching you, mainly because you thought no one cared about you enough. Mrs Tucker does like a good gossip though, dammit.

“A boy Y/N!” Your dad shouted in reiteration, making you flinch to the noise.

“Now I told Mrs Tucker that was being silly. That lady will do anything for a natter.” You stilled, thinking you were off the hook, but you should ‘t have been so quick to let your guard down. “Until your dad and I followed you to the grocery store the next night, although we never reached the store did we Y/N? No we were outside a house instead.”

Oh no. You are so dead.

“A boys house, Y/N? You weren’t raised to be a whore.” Your dad spat at you, turning away from you as if the sight of you was disgusting.

“God knows who he is or what you’re doing with him, but it stops. Right now, today.” Your mum gritted through her teeth, obviously trying to keep her calm.

“But—”

“No!” You mum screamed. “I will not be seen as the mother of a daughter who sleeps with random boys, instead of studying and working hard for her family!”

This was so 1800s. This was your life.

You had actual tears forming in your eyes now, unlike those your mum bared. It was so silly that this was making you cry but you were so upset that they thought they could control your life this way. It was devastating.

“I-I.. I love him though.” You choked out between tiny sobs, “I love him.” You whispered - that having been the first time you’d told someone else other than Harry. It actually felt good. Relieving. To declare your love for Harry made the world feel possible.

“Love? You no nothing about love.” You dad rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“The only reason I don’t know about love is because I never got it from either of you.” You started to fight back. This was a battle you were determined to win. No more hiding behind a timid figure. You were willing to stand up for yourself - no one else was going to.

“Because there’s nothing to love about you!”

You didn’t recall who this came from, all you remember is your heart dropping below the floor and fleeing from the room. Fleeing from the house. Fleeing from a family who didn’t see you as anything but a human being. You weren’t a daughter to them. You were nothing. Your heart called elsewhere. It yearned for the person closest to you.

It wasn’t until you were met with Harry’s front door that you realised where you were and what had happened.

“Oh Y/N! Hi lov—” Anne greeted you, until she saw that you were crying heavily and your chest was rising rapidly. “Harry!” She shouted into the house, leaving you a brief moment to collapse onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t care for the pain that ran through your knees from the impact - only the pain in your heart from the break it had just suffered.

“Woah angel, hey, hey.” Harry was by your side within seconds, completely incasing his body around you. Your head laid buried against his warm chest and his arms hugged you close to him like never before. His smell was one of home. He encompassed you and made you feel safe and loved. You weren’t alone.

“I-i’m unloveable.”

“But I love you.” Harry whispered against your hair, warm air softly kissing your skin.

“Yes, but—”

“No, “but”. I love you, Y/N L/N, I really fucking do. You’re my other half, baby.” He kissed your forehead a few times, knowing that’s your second favourite place to be kissed. “Your parents don’t deserve you, they really don’t. They’re cruel and cold-hearted, but that doesn’t mean I am. I think you’re beautiful, clever and kind. I think you’re everything i could ever want. And I know that you can’t be unloveable, because i’m, so deeply, in love with you.”

Harry continued to rock you, as your cried into his chest. You’d never believed in yourself before meeting him and you never thought that he could be so genuine towards you. He couldn’t care less what your parents think, as long as he helped remind you that you’re none of what they think of you. You’re so much better than mindless words. You make you you, not your parents. Harry’s helped you discover who you are and who you want to be. Even though your miles from becoming who you want to be, and you have your setbacks, you’re proud of how far you’ve come.

You cried against his chest, until the pain softened and your could regain your breath again. You unburied yourself from his hold and looked up to him with love in your eyes.

“There’s my beautiful girl, looking like a princess in you pretty dress.” He smiled down at you, even though you knew you had puffy eyes, red cheeks and a snotty nose. He loved you and all your perfect imperfections.

“Thank you, H.” You said with a wobble to your lips, really meaning your words.

“I know, baby.”

“I really do love you too.” You made sure he knew. His heart fluttered a little faster over your words. He leaned down to kiss you gently, minding all the salty water and grimy snot that laid on your face. His kiss sent butterflies swarming through your stomach and a new type of red appeared on your cheeks.

“Waffles anyone?” Anne asked as she stood at the door, the smells of sweet honey and cream only hitting you now. It was that moment that you realised your heart had never belonged with your parents, your heart belonged here, with Harry. Forever and always.

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[bbangsoonie]

goal: your heart

member: sunwoo genre: fluff word count: 5,423 synopsis: due to a budget cut, you have to follow the soccer team around for both the school newspaper and yearbook despite knowing nothing about sports. before you know it, you find yourself warming up to the team’s star player, who you swore was the most annoying and arrogant person ever.

a/n: this is a part of the star player collab with @atbzkingdom​ for sunwoo’s birthday! (also, this will be written with the american academic calander in mind)

You knew exactly what you were doing. You were the top student of both your class and school and the leader of many clubs. Your college application was full of achievements and your essay exquisitely written. The only problem? You had no idea what to do after graduation. You didn’t know where you wanted to go or what you wanted to study.

Growing up, everyone told you that you’d eventually find something you love. By senior year, you thought you would at least have an idea by now.

But nope, you were even more lost if anything. Dream job? That was just a capitalistic lie meant to make people happy to slave away for money.

Grumbling, you listened as your friends rambled on about the campuses they visited. It was only the first day back and everyone was already obsessing over one thing and one thing only.

“Y/n, you’re so lucky,” Juyeon pouted. “You don’t have to worry about getting into a university. Your stats are literally perfect.”

“I have other things to stress over,” you groaned. “At least you know what you wanna pursue.”

“Y/n has other things to worry about. She’s about to graduate without ever finding love,” Younghoon teased.

“It’s all our fault,” Jaehyun squinted as he pinched his nose bridge. “We raised her standards too high. I’m sorry, Y/n, that I can’t take responsibility.”

The notebook in your hand threatened to fly over to his seat. Luckily for him, he was saved by Juyeon’s very unnatural attempt at changing the subject. He inquired about the school newspaper that was barely spared in a major budget cut last year.

Thinking about it made you sigh. You had poured in so much effort over the years for the paper and it was almost taken from you. The school was cutting funds for a lot of clubs and diverting the money to the many sports teams that brought home trophies.

A part of the negotiations to save the newspaper club was to feature more sports events and student athletes in order to garner support for the teams. You weren’t pleased with the decision. Your plate was already full without trying to inflate the ego of players who had a god superiority complex. Jaehyun was a great example of the type of jock you didn’t want to raise on a high pedestal.

You had also promised Kevin, the president of the yearbook committee, to help out with photographing games since you had to attend them anyway. Despite the many tasks assigned to you, you were relieved that you could spend your last year continuing to write articles.

“Does that mean you’ll get to come to practice with us? The basketball team is always on my ass about introducing them to you. Now I can finally stop being pestered to be the middleman,” Jaehyun grinned.

“No shot,” Younghoon shook his head. “My swim team has already tried but Y/n puts up a cold front.”

“Hey, I’m a delicately guarded rose with sharp thorns,” you joked, making Jaehyun pretend to gag. This time, the notebook hit his arm.

“No one is good enough for our Y/n,” Juyeon defended. You turned around to coo at him and said something about him being the only nice one as Younghoon guffawed.

The first day of soccer practice meant you had to stay behind after dismissal to meet the team. The coach introduced you to the players and beamed when he got to the last one.

“This is our ace, Sunwoo. Although I’m sure you know that already,” he said proudly.

To be honest, you had no idea who he was. The school was too big to know everyone and you had absolutely no interest in sports. You rarely even went to Juyeon and Jaehyun’s basketball games and Younghoon’s swim meets.

Not wanting to offend anyone, you simply smiled. Sunwoo, catching your hesitance, raised a brow. However, he kept quiet until he approached you during one of his breaks.

“Do you really not know me?” he asked as he took a seat next to you on the bleachers.

Surprised by his sudden question, you blankly stared at the boy in front of you. Sweat was dripping from his hair but he paid it no attention as he chugged an entire water bottle.

“How cocky are you?” you scoffed.

“You really don’t know our soccer team’s star player, Kim Sunwoo?” he gaped.

“Sorry to disappoint but I really don’t care or know much about soccer. Or any other sports for that matter,” you shrugged.

“You’re going to write about the soccer team… when you don’t even know who we are or what we’re doing?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s why I’m here to observe,” you snapped back.

Finding you amusing, he finally wiped away his sweat as the coach blew his whistle to gather the players again.

Sunwoo always gave it his best but for some reason he found himself practicing extra hard that day. Knowing your eyes were on him motivated him to show off his skills by annoying his teammates and stealing the spotlight. After his third goal in a row, he looked at you to see your reaction but was baffled to see you busy writing something down.

Frustrated and peeved, he kicked at the grass with a huff.

When practice came to an end, he snuck up behind you to see what you were so intently focused on. Reading the notes on your notebook, he hummed.

“So that’s what you were doing instead of watching me,” he mused.

You were listing physical traits and personality attributes of each player. He scanned the paper for his name and frowned when he saw what you wrote about him.

“Arrogant and conceited? That’s all you have to say about me?” he whined.

“What? It’s true,” you deadpanned.

“Haknyeon gets “tall, bubbly, and extroverted” but I get “arrogant and conceited”? That’s not fair. This is biased journalism!” he exclaimed.

Realizing that practice was over, you gathered your belongings and stood up to leave. With his cheeks puffed, he watched as you left the field. You were unlike any person he had ever encountered.

“Sunwoo? Kim Sunwoo?” Younghoon repeated with his eyes wide. “The soccer caption Kim Sunwoo?”

Jaehyun and Juyeon’s chopsticks froze midair in shock. Finding their reactions odd, you nodded as you took another bite of your lunch.

“I can’t believe the lady killer got rejected by the man hater,” Jaehyun broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Now that’s a title I’d like to see on the school newspaper,” Younghoon snickered.

“Okay, first of all, I did not reject him because he did not come on to me,” you rolled your eyes. “Secondly, who the hell is he anyway? Why do you all know him?”

“He’s notorious for his fuckboy image. Although I think that’s an exaggerated reputation,” Juyeon said you picked out all the vegetables from your plate. He willingly moved them to his own and you smiled gratefully in response.

“So my first impression of him was correct,” you said.

“He’s not that bad. He’s actually pretty cool. Rumors don’t do the sweet guy justice,” Juyeon explained.

“Our lovely Juyeon sees the good in everyone,” Younghoon gushed as he pet his friend, earning him a smack on the back of his head.

“We were partners for a history project,” Juyeon clarified. “I got to know him a bit and he’s a good guy. Just enjoys attention a little too much. Like Jaehyun.”

Weirdly offended, Jaehyun scowled. You shrugged it off, returning your attention back to your food. You had no intentions of getting to know Sunwoo anyway. At least, that was the plan until he bombarded you in the hallway while you were walking to class.

He blocked your path with that irritating smirk on his face. Exasperated, you asked him what he wanted.

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he started.

“Oh, so you do think?”

“Hey!”

“Do you think you can move and get out of my way?”

“Anyway, as the president of the newspaper club who’s in charge of covering the soccer team, I think you lack way too much information about the sport. And our school’s players.”

“How do you know I’m the president?”

“I asked around.”

You look at his eyes, trying to peer through any ulterior motives. He was being suspiciously generous. But he wasn’t entirely wrong. Even you thought it was ridiculous that a person who didn’t know a thing about soccer had to write articles about it.

You were also aware that any interviews with the athletes would be surface level stuff that all the students probably already knew. You were the only one out of the loop.

You pursed your lips, annoyed that he was right. Realizing that you were in agreeance, Sunwoo grinned.

“I am offering you the very special privilege to follow me around and learn everything there is to know about the team. For the paper of course,” he quickly added the last part after seeing the look on your face. “I can teach you about both soccer and my teammates.”

After pondering his proposal, you finally nodded.

“Deal,” you eyed his happy expression. “What do you want in return?”

He was taken aback by your question. He hadn’t expected you to assume that he would demand compensation. Your presence and attention were what he was after in the first place. However, he couldn’t let the opportunity pass by.

“Bubble tea,” he declared after some thought. “You can treat me to bubble tea after practice and I can tutor you then.”

“Fine,” you sighed before pushing him aside to make it to class before the bell rang. He was left behind with a stupid smile on his face.

The first tutoring session was extremely awkward for you. You weren’t used to hanging out with guys other than Juyeon, Younghoon, and Jaehyun. They were the only members of the male species you didn’t despise. This riled up Sunwoo’s competitive side. He was determined to get close to you.

He couldn’t stand having someone not like him. He was used to being on friendly terms with everyone—including teachers and even wallflowers. He had a strong desire to receive acknowledgement from everyone.

Perhaps that was why so many girls fell for him.

Nevertheless, the wall around you remained thick and high. Just as he was well known for his playboy persona, you were infamous for never letting guys in. You cold heartedly turned down any and every guy who asked you out. And there had been a lot.

Sunwoo, on the other hand, was excited to spend time with you. Bubble tea was just an excuse to meet you outside of school grounds.

His phone dinged, notifying him of a text. Haknyeon had sent him a screenshot of a post made on the school’s gossip page and wrote “this you?”. He snorted at the content speculating his relationship status after supposedly receiving another confession and rolled his eyes. Curious, you asked him what he was looking at.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he shook his head as he put the device away. “Just the stupid tea account.”

“Oh you mean that anonymously run social media page that popped up over summer break?” you frowned.

You hated everything about it. It spread rumors, without fact-checking, and started drama. It resulted in both a breakup and the end of a friendship in the span of two months. It was exactly what you and the school newspaper stood against.

Nothing could be done to stop the false information and invasion of privacy because it wasn’t officially affiliated with the school and the students continued to feed into it. People even sent in stories to be posted.

“So tell me what you do know about soccer,” he leaned in and propped his chin on the palms of his hands.

“I know the very basics from catching glimpses of the World Cup,” you leaned back on your chair, making him pout.

“Well, to be honest, explaining the rules is a lot easier to do when directly pointing things out during a game. There’s a match airing tonight. Do you want to come over and watch it with me?” he asked expectantly.

“We can watch the replay tomorrow during study hall,” you said.

“Then we can start by talking about me today,” he chirped. “My squad number is 19 because 9 is usually worn by centre forwards but I wanted to be special and added a 1 in front of it. I’m the centre forward, which is the main striker. That means playing offensive is my main objective. Which is why I’m the highest scorer on the team.”

You wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. It irked you how he so easily bragged about himself.

“I also really like movies and can play the guitar. A true all-rounder and romanticist,” he smiled.

He continued to reveal fun facts about himself for another half an hour. It was only at the end that you realized most of it was useless when writing for the paper. You groaned, realizing you had fallen for his trap.

Still, you learned some things about soccer and his position in the team. Following him to the cafe hadn’t been a complete waste of your time.

The next day, Sunwoo hunted you down to make sure you kept your promise about watching the game together. He dragged you to the computer room during study hall and pulled out the earbuds he prepared. He had purposely rummaged through his drawers the night before to the share wired ones with you.

You had to admit he was extremely helpful when explaining the rules and strategies of soccer. Despite being uncomfortable with the proximity of his body to yours, he was a great teacher. He made everything sound so simple. After you began to understand the game, you even found yourself enjoying the match.

After spending a week with him, you hated that you couldn’t say you still disliked him. After all, you two met almost every day for hours.

You had a gut feeling that you would come to regret it and were proven right. You had a bad feeling the moment you saw Jaehyun run up to you as if his life depended on it. Panting, he barely pulled himself together to show you the post that made him immediately report to you.

“KSW and Y/INITIALS seen cozily spending time together. Will he be the one to finally break through her?” you read aloud.

A photo of your backs from the computer room and a mosaicked side shot of you two at the cafe were attached to the title. The comments under the post were even more ridiculous.

“A challenge to be anticipated.”

“Poor girl will only end up as one of his many heartbroken playthings.”

“I know who KSW is. Who’s Y/INITIALS??”

“The legendary man hater? With a guy?? Wow how good must he be 👀”

“Damn so she rejected me for him?”

Your blood boiled and you shoved the phone away. Trying to calm yourself down, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. And failed.

“What is this, fucking Dispatch?” you exploded. A few students passing by stared at your outburst and widened their eyes when they saw that it was you. You sighed, knowing that the whole school saw the post.

“I’m not a celebrity! Why are people so invested in fake rumors about me?” you yelled, trying to keep your voice to a whisper as you pulled Jaehyun into an empty classroom.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” he assured.

“If I ever find out who the admin of this page is, I will ruin them,” you glowered.

You almost didn’t go to the soccer practice that day. But you knew that avoiding him would only add fuel to the fire so you sucked it up and went to the field after school as usual. You heard the hushed murmurs that stirred among the team when you arrived and you wanted to turn back around and leave.

Before you could, however, Sunwoo appeared and shut everyone up with a warning glare. He announced that the coach would be late and to start by running laps.

You were more annoyed than upset about the post. It just stupefied you that people really had nothing better to do than gossip about you. You didn’t think you were that interesting.

You were so close to escaping after practice but Sunwoo caught you trying to sneak away. He stood in front of you, crossing his arms as if to ask where you were going. Giving up, you muttered a “fine” and waited for him to change out of his uniform.

This time, you two wordlessly agreed to go to a different cafe. With the bubble teas on the table in front of you, you sat in silence until Sunwoo finally spoke up.

“Don’t mind what the post or others say,” he huffed.

“I’m not too bothered by it,” you shrugged.

“Good. Because I want to get to know you as just Y/n and Sunwoo. Through whatever you wish to tell and show me. I feel like we’re always just talking about me.”

His words left you speechless. Juyeon hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned how thoughtful Sunwoo was. You felt your heart warm as you smiled.

“Well what do you want to know about me?” you asked.

“Anything. Everything.”

So you spilled about your interests, hobbies, and goals. It was strange. Although it hadn’t been long since you met him, you felt comfortable around him. He made you feel at ease and you didn’t think twice about opening up to him.

You told him about your struggles as a high achieving student. About the pressure you felt and how embarrassing it was to tell people that you didn’t have any dreams.

With your grades, all the teachers expected you to apply to medical school. On the other hand, your parents encouraged you to work towards a high paying and stable salary as a corporation employee. Your friends suggested that you go for something in journalism because of your passion and commitment to the school newspaper.

But the club was just something you did for fun. You didn’t know if you liked it enough to pursue it as a career.

Sunwoo listened attentively as you went on about your concerns. From the outside, you looked like you had your life together. You were the perfect student and the girl that many guys chased after. But as he spent more time with you, it became clear that you were very uncomfortable with boys.

“Can I ask how you got so close with the Bermuda line?” he asked.

“The Bermuda line? What’s that?”

“You’ve never heard of the term? Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon are called the Bermuda line because they’re the most popular athletes out of all the sports teams. The girls say that once you fall for them, you’re stuck in between them forever because you can’t get out.”

You hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. You knew they had fans but found it hilarious how the trio even had a nickname.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to make fun of them for this,” you laughed, nearly in tears.

When he told you that they actually took great pride in the title, you bursted out in laughter again. Their self love truly was on another level.

“So how’d you end up friends?” he asked again.

“Juyeon, I’ve known since middle school. We were in the same class for all three years. Jaehyun didn’t go to the same school as us but he was friends with Juyeon because they played basketball together. I met him and Younghoon at the end of freshman year. They kinda crash landed into my life but we really clicked so that’s why I still bless them with my friendship.”

Sunwoo giggled at your own overwhelming confidence. He loved that you never sold yourself short. He didn’t notice he had been staring at you until you pointed it out. Blushing, he insisted that it was nothing and took another sip of his bubble tea.

Two months passed by and you eventually came to call Sunwoo a friend. Younghoon teased you about him being more than a friend and at first, you thought he was crazy. But with him planting the idea in your head, you began to question your own feelings. Cursing Younghoon, you blamed him for confusing you.

As the designated photographer, you tagged along to the soccer team’s last match. The entire team was nervous as it would determine the winner of the tournament. Even Sunwoo was anxious.

Before the game started, you offered him a supportive smile and he felt all worries lifted off his shoulders. He erased all thoughts of winning and losing and just concentrated on the ball. He wanted to enjoy the last match of the season and look cool in front of you. That was all that mattered to him.

Fortunately, he got both plus the win. The crowd erupted into cheers as he scored the winning goal just seconds before the whistle was blown to signal the end of the game. His knees fell to the ground and his teammates rushed to surround him.

Seeing how happy he looked brought a smile to your lips. He jumped up and scanned the bleachers for your face. When he finally spotted you, he broke away from his team to run up to you and embrace you in a giant hug.

Caught off guard, you froze as his teammates hooted and applauded. You felt your cheeks heat up at the attention.

“Congratulations,” you chuckled, patting his back. “You did well.”

“Did you get a lot of pretty pictures of me?” he grinned, pulling away to look at you.

“No, I only took pictures of Haknyeon,” you joked. By now, he was used to your teasing and simply ruffled your hair in response.

“There’s gonna be an after party tonight,” he brought up carefully. “I’d really like it if you came. Only if you’re okay with that type of scene though.”

Surprised, you nodded before you fully thought it through.

That was how you ended up moping at Jaehyun’s house. The invitation was extended to the Bermuda line as well and they were all planning on dragging you there. Younghoon was excited at the thought of finally going to a party with the whole group and Juyeon was picking out an outfit for you from Jaehyun’s sister’s closet.

“I don’t know if I trust your fashion sense,” she made a face at the top he held up.

This was your first party and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. There was a reason you hadn’t gone to one throughout your high school years.

Nonetheless, you were dressed up in an outfit that definitely reflected Jaehyun’s sister’s style more than yours. She fawned over how pretty you were and urged you to go with the boys.

So you walked through the doors and into the house vibrating with music. Everyone who recognized you was shocked to see you there. Feeling awkward, you stuck by Jaehyun’s side as you maneuvered around the throng of people. When he finally caught sight of Sunwoo, he dipped and left you alone with him.

“Thanks for coming,” he shouted over the loud music.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you shouted back.

Sunwoo offered you a drink, which you declined. Following your choice, he opted for a soda instead as well. You weren’t much of a dancer so you enjoyed people watching instead. It was fascinating to see your classmates have so much fun.

You giggled when you saw Juyeon be so painfully oblivious to a girl’s advances and walked away to dance with Younghoon. Meanwhile, Jaehyun was having the time of his life flirting with girls. You blocked your eyesight when you saw him leaning in to kiss one of them.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringed. “I do not need to know this side of my best friend’s love life.”

Laughing, Sunwoo offered to take you outside for some fresh air and a change of scenery. You gladly agreed and let him guide you to the backyard.

The night sky was full of tranquility that contrasted the chaos that ensued indoors. You sat on the grass and Sunwoo joined next to you.

“You look beautiful today,” he commented.

“Only today?” you laughed.

“Especially today,” he answered in a serious manner. His sincerity made you clear your throat and look away. He stunned you by cupping your face with his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Are you drunk?” you blinked.

“I haven’t had a single sip of alcohol.”

His voice was slow and raspy. Your heart was beating faster than you wanted it to and you knew the corners of your lips were betraying you.

“You can either lean in or pull away,” he said as he brought his lips closer to yours.

Your heart now felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Red alarms were going off in your head and you didn’t know what to do. All you knew was what you were only a few centimeters away from kissing Sunwoo.

So you did what any insane person would do and closed the gap between your lips. You wanted to punch him when you felt him smirk but he pulled you closer and held onto you tightly.

The weekend passed without much changes in your relationship with Sunwoo. You were worried that you had either ruined your friendship or that he was sick of you but Juyeon reassured you that he probably wanted to talk about it in person. Anxiously, you overthought things until Monday finally arrived.

Wanting to keep yourself busy until you met Sunwoo, you stopped by the club room early in the morning to import the photos from the last game. Shortly after you connected the camera to the computer, you heard a knock on the door.

Startled, you looked at the door and saw Jacob sheepishly poking his head through the door. You told him to come in and he took a seat next to you.

“Kevin told me to drop by before class for an interview,” he said. You nearly facepalmed. You had completely forgotten about that. You were supposed to interview him for the paper.

“Oh yeah! Hold on, let me go get my notebook,” you searched through your backpack to find it.

The volleyball player was this month’s star of the month and you had to write a piece on his past achievements. He was extremely kind and was careful not to use any advanced sports terminology to make sure anyone could easily read the interview, which you were grateful for.

Before you parted, he gave you a side hug out of habit and apologized when he realized that it was only his first time meeting you. You laughed it off and insisted that now you could be friends since you two hugged already. Relieved that you weren’t disturbed, he happily waved goodbye to you as he walked away.

Being in a different class than Sunwoo meant that you had to wait until lunch period to see him. You honestly didn’t even know if you wanted to see him. You weren’t ready to face him yet.

When the bell finally rang and it was time for lunch, Juyeon forced you to go to the cafeteria instead of hiding out in an empty classroom. The moment you sat down with your tray, however, you felt all eyes on you. Your stomach dropped, knowing it couldn’t be good news.

“Y/n, is this true..?” Jaehyun asked, showing you the new post on the gossip page. You hated that you were always right about bad intuitions.

KSW and Y/INITIALS caught making out at last night’s party… is BJY a side hoe?

You had no idea when a photo was taken in the brief second you and Jacob hugged that morning. When you scrolled and saw the next part, your heart dropped.

A shocking revelation of history: Y/INITIALS and SYJ used to date in freshman year. Does this have anything to do with the swimmer and basketball players always next to her?

You felt your breath caught in your throat as you read through the comments.

“Isn’t BJY on the volleyball team and SYJ on the baseball team?”

“Wow she clearly has a type.”

“I guess athletes just hit it well 👀”

“And here I thought KSW was the hoe… who’s playing with who?”

“Aye so KSW finally managed to break through her. Thanks for my $10 bro.”

“Aren’t the basketball players LJY and LJH? And the swimmer KYH? The Bermuda line, right?? I always thought she had a thing with one of them.”

“So much for the icy Y/INITIALS. She was acting all pretentious when she was already having all her fun.”

Juyeon grabbed the phone out of your hands and glared at Jaehyun. You never thought your past relationship would ever get exposed. There were only a handful of people who knew about it and it had stayed hidden under the rug up until now. It was something you wanted to bury and never think about ever again.

Shakily, you got up and ran out of the cafeteria with Younghoon calling out after you. You ran as fast as you could. You didn’t stop until you busted through the doors and collapsed on the rooftop. Your lungs were on fire and you closed your eyes to stop the ringing in your ears.

Meanwhile, Sunwoo was running across the school to find you. When he didn’t see you in the club room, he changed his target and sought out Eric.

“Is it true?” he demanded when he finally saw his friend.

“I can’t believe people already figured out that it’s me,” Eric sighed.

“Is it true?” Sunwoo repeated.

“Yes, yes, it’s true,” he answered with his hands up in defeat. “She never wanted anyone to find out. We didn’t exactly end on good terms. It’s something I’m not proud of.”

“What happened?” he asked, trying to contain his anger. “What did you do to her?”

“I…” Eric trailed off. “I cheated on her.”

“What the hell, Eric?” Sunwoo yelled.

“I-I was stupid! And young. It’s the biggest mistake I made in my life,” he admitted.

Frustrated, Sunwoo left and ran off in search of you again. When you weren’t anywhere to be found, he checked the rooftop as a last resort. He didn’t expect to actually see you there.

“Y/n,” he breathed. You felt a lump form in your throat. It was the first time he had addressed you by your name.

“Get away from me,” you glared. “Was I nothing but a bet to you? Was I just a challenge for you to win?”

“Y/n, I never placed bets on you. I don’t know what other people have been betting on but I have always been genuine with you,” he affirmed.

You refused to let your tears fall. There was no way Kim Sunwoo was going to see you cry.

“I like you,” he confessed. “I like you a lot. I meant to say this that night but got too flustered. So I wanted to tell you today. Whenever I see you, the butterflies in my stomach won’t go away. When I don’t see you, I miss you like crazy. You inspire me to become a better person and all I want to do is hold you and call you mine.”

And now Kim Sunwoo has officially seen you cry. He bent down to wrap his arms around you as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumbled after you calmed down.

“I think you mean the opposite,” he chuckled. “Whatever barriers you put up to protect yourself, I’m going to take them down one by one. With you. Together.”

“Who said I’m helping?” you muttered.

“Then I guess I have to work twice as hard to prove myself,” he softly smiled.

“This is embarrassing,” you groaned.

“This will only be embarrassing for me if you reject me,” his hand reached out to the nape of his neck. “So what do you say? Will you go out with me?”

“I’ll think about it,” you huffed, prompting a chuckle from him.

[doctorofmagic]

hey i just stumbled across your blog the other day and saw that you’re a doomstrange enthusiast. first of all HUGE respect, second of all, i often find myself losing my mind over their whole dynamic during hickman’s secret wars. how stephen willingly stayed by victor’s side even though he found reed + the other survivors. the fact that he waited YEARS to wake them because his faith in victor and his ability to play god was so strong. idk i would love to hear any thoughts you have on secret wars doomstrange

A-Anon... Oh my Vishanti, I always go feral when someone asks me about them, ESPECIALLY Secret Wars. My apologizes in advance, I'll write an essay (that anon will definitely harass me after that but do I care at this point? nah 😅)

*cracks fingers*

I don't even know where to start because I know the focus here is Secret Wars, so my apologizes in advance for digressing... But I believe their previous history is fundamental to understand their relationship and dynamics in Battleworld. It's not something that was born in that scenario. And this is important because Victor is not the kind of man who trusts easily. Hell, he doesn't trust people AT ALL. He's a man motivated by emotions, despite his intellectual facade. And his emotions are usually twisted. This is why he loves and hates Reed so much and can't bring himself to admit he loves the man, their egos will always represent a threat to his confidence and self-worth because, yes, he IS insecure. Early Victor von Doom is portrayed as a melancholic man who despises himself for being scarred and unworthy of love. In addition, he grew up in an environment of hatred: his family was persecuted due to their Roma heritage by the former baron of Latveria. Both his mother and father were chased to death and even when he could have been loved and healed by Valeria, he decided to cast her away.

The only human being Victor trusts is Boris, to be fair. And even so, it's only because Boris never dared to intrude or disrespect their boundaries. Boris does see Victor as a son but he will never bring himself to act like a father because 1) he's a servant and 2) he will always obey Victor, no matter how twisted his intentions are.

And why am I saying this? Because Victor can't take no for an answer. And he can't trust people fully. But there's a certain wizard who stumbled into his life, and the most important point is, Stephen didn't really care about Victor BEFORE Triumph and Torment. It has always been the other way around. Victor considered becoming Stephen's apprentice the moment Clea left. HOW DID HE EVEN KNOW CLEA LEFT IN THE FIRST PLACE? It's not like Stephen put a sign outside the Sanctum where you could read "I lost my girlfriend and apprentice, we're hiring".

Doctor Strange v2 - Master of the Mystic Arts #57.

So truth be told, Victor was waaay more aware of Stephen's existence than the other way around (Stephen knew of Victor's magic skills before they met but they never really had the chance to meet before T&T, also the man is too busy to bother and go for a visit), and this is how Victor came up with a plan to save his mother and have Stephen's aid without even asking, because he's too proud for that: "Doctor Doom needs no one".

So there goes Stephen, "forced" to live 45 days in the company of Victor von Doom, teaching him magic, and learning Latverian, and unlocking Victor's past on day 1 because Boris was like "I'll tell everything about my master's past while he watches us over the monitor but that's okay because you seem to be a good man".

And this is the moment when Stephen comes to realize that maybe Victor isn't that villain everyone despises. He's actually a lovely man, broken and hurt, but a lovely one nonetheless. Victor allows Stephen to learn about his past, he allows Stephen to live in his castle, he allows Stephen to be aware of his strongest weakness (losing his mother to Mephisto). You see, Victor's thirst for power is one of his most intrinsic traits, and yet, when he has the opportunity to ask for more, he shows Stephen that no, actually, the most important thing to Victor is his mother. And the moment they go to hell, literally, in order to save Cynthia, Victor had tons of chances to betray Stephen and leave him behind. Because yes, he has betrayed his allies over and over again, but not Stephen, for some reason. He didn't allow the demons to touch him, he carried him in his arms even though we were robbed of this moment. And he left a device so Stephen could flee after the apparent "betrayal". This is NOT something Victor would do to his allies/enemies. This moment has been stuck in my mind for years now. Did Victor save Stephen because he saw him as a tool/potential ally for the future or because he cared? The mere fact that Victor doesn't allow the demons to touch Stephen convinces me that the latter is the right answer. Victor became soft towards Stephen, there's no other explanation to that. T&T was the first moment I realized that Victor was a gray character for yes, he CARES when portrayed correctly.

Doctor Strange and Doctor Doom - Triumph and Torment.

And then they have yet another moment of realization during Doctor Strange - Sorcerer Supreme #34 (and Infinity Gauntlet in general). Of course, Doom starts off with a direct assault at Stephen but he immediately retreats when Adam Warlock explains to him what's going on. Because Victor is frustrated when left in the dark (and I'll make a parallel later, just hang in there). So of course he will work with Stephen, but he can't resist the Infinity Stones, can he? So the assault backfires and he's vulnerable. And who else can save Victor but Stephen? Better yet, who else will believe in Victor's good when no one else does?

Doctor Strange - Sorcerer Supreme #34.

I mean, Victor has never EVER said "I am at your disposal" to anyone, he's too proud for that. Stephen has the ability to suppress Victor's ego and make him soft. And can we blame him for it? Stephen is a lovely and passionate man who always believes in people's best intentions. Victor certainly sees him like a fool, but he says that softly. Because he's grateful for that. Stephen literally saved his life and returned the favor from T&T when he could have gotten rid of a threat, of a broken and evil man. He didn't. He believes in Victor.

And then it all comes down to the road towards Secret Wars. Victor is frustrated again because both Reed and Stephen are keeping secrets. He hates it. He hates how Stephen is mean and how Reed plays oblivious because he's aware they're both smart men and they share at least a single bit of respect. I love Hickman's portrayal of Reed and Victor because he doesn't paint them as enemies. There's the old good sexual tension but enough respect for them to dine together without the whole "I'm trying to kill your family while I declare my love for you." And this single panel from New Avengers v3 is perfect to depict how their relationship matured, but also... Stephen is there. Who invited Stephen? Was it Reed or Victor? In the end, it doesn't matter that much because Stephen works an as anchor. He knows Victor and he's not afraid of confronting him (which will be later seen in Savage Avengers). And as I said, Victor hates taking no for an answer so yes, he's frustrated but he can't bring them harm because he loves and hates Reed and he's soft toward Stephen, so he can't really harm Reed no matter how frustrated he is. This is definitely important because it will reflect on their relationship during Secret Wars.

New Avengers v3 #7.

So Victor decides to work on his own to solve this whole puzzle while Stephen has a difficult and painful downfall while dealing with the Illuminati. He goes for dark magic and sacrifices so much in order to save something. It's only when he goes on his own journey that he finds a way toward the answer. And the answer is... well, Victor. Of all people, they meet at the end of the world. And both want to save something. Anything.

New Avengers v3 #33.

AND I KNOW I WROTE SO MUCH JUST TO GET TO SECRET WARS, I'M SO SORRY LMAO

My thoughts on Secret Wars are vast. It seems to me that Stephen at first didn't fully trust Victor, this is why he made sure to build Castle Doom on the place he has found the Infinity Stones (since Battleworld is a patched world, they can only work on Doomstadt). Also the man needs his privacy so he has a private isle to keep his secrets since Victor isn't omniscient. And this is okay because yes, Stephen IS loyal. I like to believe that, the more they lived together, the more Stephen trusted Victor to rule Battleworld. It became something special to them, to the point of Stephen becoming obsessed with his work as Victor's sheriff.

Meanwhile, Victor allowed Stephen to have the chance to take the power of the Beyonders before his turn. As I said, Victor craves power, and yet... The man really prioritized Stephen because he ~trusts~ him. And Stephen couldn't do it, he was afraid of said power. And so Victor became God Emperor Doom. Only this time, he isn't alone. Victor was god before, both in the first Secret Wars and during Avengers - Emperor Doom. He was mad bored in Avengers - Emperor Doom. He was alone and tired of bureaucracy, so he allowed the Avengers to take him down. How did he last eight years being a god then? Well, because he has someone to indulge him now. Someone real from the old world, someone who stands by his side for the real Victor. Everyone else is fake, a product of the multiverse. Stephen is real, Stephen remembers the old world and the things they've been through together. Victor has someone to have petty arguments about the world, he wants to be with Stephen because of their common interests, not because of work. And somehow Victor admires Stephen for being so committed to what they built together. Victor isn't a lonely god anymore.

Secret Wars #3.

And this is SO important because Victor sees how much Stephen gives his whole life to protect what they created together. Yes, he's a bore now but look at his commitment. He's begging Stephen to relax just for once so they can have a good time together. When is Victor ever relaxed?

Yes, yes, he's still depressed for being the only imperfect thing in his perfect world, he wishes he could leave in order to rest. Victor is a sad and tired god now because there's no point anymore. No challenge, no excitement. And the only person who can indulge him is too busy with their world to give him a little bit of entertainment. Still, Victor fully trusts Stephen now. And it's kinda mutual in a sense until things escalate, which is the whole drama of Secret Wars.

Mostly because Stephen wasn't aware that the pod protected the surviving heroes, ~especially~ Reed. He only found out when The Black Order showed up to threaten their world, so he decided to open it. And suddenly Stephen faces a huge conundrum. He KNOWS the heroes won't accept Victor as a god, as much as he KNOWS Victor will go apeshit the moment he sees Reed. And still, he stands by Victor.

Secret Wars #4.

So you see, Stephen never really "betrayed" Victor when he sent the heroes away. He did what he did because he believed Victor was better than pure hatred, he believed Victor wasn't a murderer. Until the very end, he trusted that Victor could handle this situation without succumbing to his twisted emotions. Sadly, Stephen was wrong. Though... I'm 100% sure Stephen would be by Victor's side if the heroes decided to take him down. This is the unspoken words between them and what it hurts me the most. Victor never gave a chance for Stephen to explain himself. He was so blind by hatred that he immediately assumed Stephen would protect them instead of their world. And all Stephen wanted was for them to co-exist peacefully. A fool's dream, indeed. Captain Marvel, T'Challa, Namor, Jane, Reed, they'd NEVER accept Victor as a god, they'd NEVER bend their knees to him, not like Stephen did. Because, again, they don't believe in Victor as much as Stephen does. They won't indulge him as Stephen did. And thus he pays with his own life.

The moment Victor loses Stephen is the moment Battleworld falls. Stephen was Victor's anchor, the only real person who believed in him and supported him and loved what they built together. Victor regrets what he has done. He misses Stephen, he's ashamed of his sin. Owen exposes him. "You think I couldn't smell the guilt on you? You reek of shame, god." Victor spends a whole day with his head raised to Stephen's statue whereas he always looked down on people from his throne. This is how important Stephen was to him. This is tragic poetry at its finest.

Secret Wars #5.

(Tumblr won't allow me to post more pics dang it.)

Victor also struggles to deal with his emotions after that since he feels betrayed. He does want to hate Stephen and see him as a traitor, so why does he stand there? Why does he reeks of guilt and shame? He loved Stephen, and yet he could never bring himself to admit that. Stephen was a snake in his garden, wasn’t he?

So yes, without Stephen, Victor will unleash his repressed emotions towards Reed all over again, and he will lose. I like to think that, when Reed says he could have done a better job, Victor only admits it because he knows Reed would never hurt Stephen. The face he does when Sue questions him...

Victor: Susan, there are complexities beyond even my ability to explain. If you will just trust me as you always have--

Sue: Like Stephen trusted you?

HE'S SO ASHAMED, and gods, Victor never regrets his actions.

They're truly a tragic pair, for Stephen will never be enough for Victor, no matter how hard he tries. No matter how deeply he believes in Victor's heart and potential for good. And yes, despite all that, the fool wizard STILL insists.

Stephen doesn't remember Battleworld in canon since Reed erased his memories of this event. I like to think that either Reed wanted to spare Stephen from a traumatic experience OR Victor asked Reed to do so when he was about to lose. Because, again, Victor cares. This is not canon, of course, just me finding answers.

But does that prevent Stephen from being a hopeless sweetheart? NAUR!! And this is when we have Infamous Iron Man, with Victor apologizing the best way he can, without saying "sorry I murdered you, I'm trying to be better". And then they keep going on their complicated yet lovely relationship in Savage Avengers - in which Victor saves Stephen's life and shows his vulnerable side to him, not to mention a single panel in Hellfire Gala (which I posted at some point, just search for "Hellfire Gala", in case you're interested).

Oof, I think I ranted more than I should. I just really love them and they have SO MUCH POTENTIAL, and such a tragic story. But yes, I'll always treasure their dynamics and relationship because they're basically Marc Anthony and Pussyfoot, Stephen being a lovely and passionate man, trying to bring the soft side of a tyrant who hides in an armor in order to keep people away from his heart. I love them.

Sorry about the long post and thank you for making my day, I'm struggling a lot this week so this helped me so much, thank you 😭

PS: some people are saying really bad stuff about me because I can easily ship both OTPs (and even make them work as an OT3), and they’re on this crusade to portray me as a liar and evil person who wants to ruin their ship, but at this point I’m tired and I don’t give a damn about them anymore. Lemme be passionate about what I love in peace. So yes, please ignore the gatekeepers and haters, they can’t do a thing about it anyways other than whine and act like children. Peace out.

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one. 

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, mentions of depression, angst, bucky is a cocky bitch, but bucky also needs a hug

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 1/3:

It’s December, his sophomore year of college and Bucky’s watching you again. From afar, always from afar. He’s scared if he goes near, something will give him away and you’ll laugh at him. He doesn’t remember when his fixation started but he’s certain it’ll pass. A load of girls on campus like him. Sometimes he thinks he likes some of them back. But not you. Bucky doesn’t like you. He’s beyond you. (Actually, you’re beyond him. He would never admit that.)  He watches you and notices how your fringe has grown the last few weeks and how a few strands are falling down your eyes. You brush them away and keep writing your essay. He decides it’d be better if he started writing his too. You’re a year younger but he knows you’ll probably get a higher score than him anyway. You’re good with words, he has noticed.

-

It’s March, your freshman year and you breathe out. You’re leaving the library, arms wrapped around books about Hamlet and Shakespeare, when you see him. Lately he seems to be everywhere you are. It’s getting annoying. You promise yourself you won’t stare at him again, but you cheat a few times. He’s wearing one of his overpriced shirts and he smiles at a sophomore girl. You know Bucky Barnes. You’d known him even if you didn’t want to. Because everybody does. Because that’s who he is. Everything you dislike about the world distilled into one label-whoring, conceited, 5′11″ tall boy. And everybody seems to be smitten with him.

He comes to you first.

“It’s destiny, Y/N,” he says, a smug look on his face, “third time I bump into you today.”

You tense. This is new. Usually, you don’t talk to each other if not for arguing in Romance Literature class. It’s one of the two classes you share.

“I must be very lucky.” Bucky chuckles and it’s somewhat engaging because he hasn’t given you a smile since the first day you met him.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”.

You had thought he was nice then. And beautiful. God, he was so beautiful. Please, he’s not. He’s an arrogant smartass. And now he’s standing here and for some seconds he laughs and you can see the dimples in his cheeks. You blink.

His light eyes divert to the books you’re holding.

“Try not to have too much fun.”

He mocks and walks away.

-

It’s July, end of sophomore year and Bucky joins a summer book club. (He doesn’t tell anyone. He enjoys his facade.) Every morning he grabs an iced latte and a butter croissant and he goes to the meetings. He reads a lot. And he loves it. It helps him feel. It’s a getaway. Bucky always stands proud and tall, trying to hide how easily he can be torn.

Running one finger along the starched collar of his shirt, he reads quietly and he considers the ever-changing art of literature; words and metaphors that allow him to imagine entire worlds and fathom his own sensitivities. He almost feels vulnerable. He decides that reading together with another person is an intimate act and he’s thankful he doesn’t really have any interest in anyone in the club.

But then it’s Monday and his teenage dream walks in, hair falling gracefully your shoulders, Gone with The Wind in your left hand. And it could have been the sun gleaming through the windows, but Bucky swears his whole being flickers. In a way or another he always responds to your presence.

You sit two rows behind of him and when he involuntary turns to you, you look surprised and yet you smile.

He tries to avoid you and he’s good at it, until someone decides it’d be fun to present the next book in groups. You’re the only two without a friend there and you end up paired together.

“I don’t like this.” he says.

“Oh, I know.” you whisper.

You spend an evening in his dorm, discussing the author and the plot holes. At first, he talks a lot, trying to impress you. But then he lays on his back, listening to the summer rain outside and you reading out loud. Regardless of what you feel for each other, he thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

Next morning, he buys two butter croissants instead of one.

-

It’s October, your sophomore year and you’re not exactly friends. Or enemies. Bucky has stopped teasing you and you think it’s because of your days in the book club. Actually, it’s because he’s dating Natasha Romanoff now and he promised he’d be kinder.

You realize sooner or later and you say it’s obvious you don’t care. (Who is it obvious to?) The girl is pretty, clever and vibrant and she’s a good person. You like her. You just can’t figure out what she sees in Bucky.

-

It’s January, his junior year and he’s not doing well. He knows it’s his fault (he always loved half-heartedly) and that makes the hurting worse. It’s guilt driven. He tries to get Nat back but she’s not ready. And it’s awful because nobody warned him and he didn’t know; it’s hard to feel lovable after a break up. He desperately needs a distraction. He pushes himself past his breaking point. Carves his grades into the back of his neck. Devours facts and theorems. Almost joins the football team for extra credit. But to be honest he’s never been that much into sports. Debate team, it is.

That’s where he truly learns to despise you. Who do you think you are? The proud jaw, those smart eyes, your feet planted on the ground as if the world’s wisdom belongs to you. You’re at your best while he’s at his lowest point.

He watches you and then he watches himself.

“Your last argument was weak,” you say, raising your eyebrows, “you should concentrate more.”

Bucky bites his lip in frustration.

“You’re not the boss around here.” He says, crossing his arms in his chest, “You may think you are, but you’re not.”

(Technically she is, Bucky. She’s the captain of the team.)

“Don’t start again.” You sigh. “I just want us to win next week.”

He rolls his eyes at you. He would never admit it out loud but a part of him is enjoying this. Feuding with Y/N feels natural. It reminds him of who he is.  And he feeds on that.

He takes a step towards you.

“Of course, so you can take all the credit.”

You just stare at him. Sometimes you don’t understand what Bucky is trying to prove. That he’s better? Or that you’re worse? You hate it. How quickly he can make you lose your temper.

(How quickly he can exhilarate you.)

“If you don’t like the team,” you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze, “you’re free to leave.”

Bucky laughs. This is how you are. This is how you will always be. Both strong, you just, him lost.

“You need me to win, Y/N,” he sets his shoulders back and smirks, “I’m good at this.” He remains close to you and refuses to look away. He can see you parting your lips for a second or two.

(Did he just glance at your lips?)

“I know you are,” you breath out and Bucky is incredulous, “so start acting like it.”

(Did you just compliment him?)

-

It’s the first day of February, your sophomore year and you think you’re losing your sanity. Bucky invites everyone at his dorm to celebrate their victory at the National Debate Championship. And it’s strange because Bucky never really invites anyone he doesn’t like. If you didn’t know him, you would have bet that he’s been feeling lonely.

You don’t want to go at first. But you’re glad you do. Under the green lights he has installed and all the alcohol in his body, he looks different and it’s the first time you genuinely see him. A boy with silky black hair, blue eyes and skin that looks like it’d be cool to touch. There’s something attractive about him, in a rugged way, and you’re seeing it again after a long time.

Your allergies must have gotten in your head.

He doesn’t talk a lot that night. Not to you. Not to anyone. You deduce pretty early that Bucky just wanted company to drink. You wonder if he’s still messed up because of the break up.

Probably. Everyone on campus is talking about how Natasha was hanging out with that boy, Clint.

He tells you, you don’t have to, but you still stay to help him clean up.

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?” His voice is low.

You started taking a new antihistamine, maybe it’s the side effects.

“It’s called being nice,” you say firmly, “you should try it.”

Bucky makes a little humming sound and keeps collecting plastic cups. The room is quiet, but for the sound of trash bags and you count the seconds before you speak again.

“How are you?”

“I’m not that drunk, don’t worry.” He half-answers, half laughs but he pronounces the last word with enough irony.

“No, I meant,” you breath, “Is everything okay with you?”

“Seriously, you make no sense Y/N.” He’s careful not to look at you.

“I just wanted to say,” your voice sways for a second, you’re a novice in talking with him about anything different than books and words and that makes you weak and nervous, “You’ll be back with Natasha, I’m sure.”

Bucky’s face hardens around the edges, his eyes saying more about him than any words could. He comes close to you and it could have been the smell of alcohol but you feel like you want to throw up.

“You and I, we’re not friends.”

You don’t blink. You stare blankly at him, waiting for what follows. But he just leaves the room.

You promise you will never go to any of his parties again.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

[lebrookestore]

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x  female reader

Themes:  SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music 

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu​  @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break  [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung​ for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

~

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you. 

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him. 

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days. 

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you. 

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way. 

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it. 

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well. 

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions. 

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

 To: y/n@gmail.com

From: admin@royalschoolofmusic.com

Good morning/evening,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

      TRSOM

 You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality. 

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

 [8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10:  my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse 

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU 

 He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed. 

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

~

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine. 

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell. 

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way. 

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself. 

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you. 

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

~

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you. 

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips. 

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden. 

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you. 

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance. 

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree. 

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked. 

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you. 

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down. 

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him. 

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

[dracowars]

could i request a slytherin x draco imagine where the reader and draco have been dating for a long time and she’s kind of a bitch like draco but she also doesn’t believe in blood supremacy so people are just scared of her they don’t not like her but anyways she and draco do share same feelings towards potter and stuff like that so what if draco crossed the line with potter or the trio and ron and harry get super upset but the reader feels bad and goes up to hermoine after class and apologizes because she know draco didn’t mean it to go that far but he’s stubborn and she feels better about the situation but the next morning ron confesses that he had the twins help of putting something in draco’s glass for breakfast but in actuality it was the readers cup and they see the reader drink it and they freak out because ron said that it was a smaller dose of draught of the living death where they could get sick and fall asleep for a long time and hermoine freaks out because she says that the reader apologizes and throughout the day the reader feels super ill and draco is tries taking care of her until that night where she goes to sleep and pansy her roommate and bff (we love pansy) can’t wake her up and she runs to the great hall and tells draco and the trio feels guilty until the twins get an antidote and it ends in fluff? i’m sorry it’s so long idk how else to explain it 😥

unforgivable | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 2,7k

summary: where y/n gets poisoned due to draco's behavior

a/n: finally, i'm back!!! my hand still hurts, but i managed to write this on my laptop so it did not hurt that much while writing. hope you enjoy <3

warnings: angst, use of unforgivable spell, cursing, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

„Only those who really want to inflict torture on their victim and have sadistic pleasure in seeing them suffer, can create the right magical energy for a successful torture curse”, Professor Snape, your teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, repeats to the entire class, strutting around in front of the blackboard that is only filled with three words. Slowly getting bored, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling, which seems far more interesting than the repetition of the three unforgivable curses right now.

Your gaze wanders over the numerous cracks in the ceiling above you until you completely block out Professor Snape’s voice. As soon as you direct your eyes a little further to the left, you stare at your beautiful boyfriend, whose side profile is illuminated by the shining sun. Smiling to yourself, you move closer to him to gently place your hand on top of his, hoping to draw his attention to you.

But without success.

Draco does not move an inch, his gaze intently focused on the front of the classroom while he is listening to the lesson, not even stopping when you finally lay your head on his shoulder and sigh softly.

Since your beloved boyfriend obviously does not want to give you the attention you deserve, you look for something else to do to cure your boredom. Annoying Harry Potter and Ron Weasley seems like a good decision for you. It does not take you long to toss small, rolled up balls of paper against the back of their heads, careful to only throw it across the room when Snape turns his back to the class. Rolling their eyes, they turn to you in annoyance, but you just give them a malicious smile before they try to focus again.

Just like Draco, you despise Harry Potter profoundly. There has never been a real reason for your hatred, but sometimes you meet people in your life that you just can’t get along with. This similarity of Draco and you only bonded you together even more.

You were never very popular at Hogwarts anyway, neither with your classmates nor with the teachers. But you do not care. In fact, you even enjoy it when you walk through the corridors and the first years move aside in fear immediately. If Draco is with you, they even turn around and take a different path. And because the few people you actually do get along with are always by your side, you do not mind having a certain reputation at this school.

“You will write a twenty-page essay about the unforgivable curses until next week”, Professor Snape finishes the lesson and you excitedly jump out of your seat right away, collecting your stuff. Since your hand was still connected to Draco’s, you pulled him along.

“Someone seems to have a strong interest in these curses”, you giggle when you see his almost annoyed expression due to the ending of the lesson.

“And what if it does?”, he rolls his eyes at you and you wait until he has stowed all his things in his bag before you go out into the hallway together. Almost like a reflex, you intertwine your hands as you walk down the corridors of Hogwarts.

On your way to the Great Hall to get something to eat, you walk across the courtyard when you suddenly notice the Golden Trio, as they are called, sitting on one of the benches out of the corner of your eye. Before you can react, they are already standing in front of you.

“Sorry, but you are covering the sun”, you mention snippily and raise an eyebrow, waiting for them to clear the way.

“What was that about earlier, Y/N?”, Ron angrily asks you and you just shrug your shoulders ignorantly.

“Do not make a scene now, Weaselbee”, Draco interferes, obviously annoyed.

“Oh, it is you, Malfoy! I did not recognize you anymore, now that you have suddenly become so meek since your father is in Azkaban”, Harry mocks and you feel the situation slowly escalating. “How does he like his new home?”

If looks could kill, you are sure all three of them would be dead on the spot.

“At least I still have parents, Scarhead”, Draco fires back through gritted teeth and his grip on your hand becomes tighter.

“Depulso!”

As soon as these words come out of Harry’s mouth, Draco is pushed back through the air, his back hitting the brick wall. In shock, you look after him, your legs unable to move. The arguments between you and them happened countless times, but no one has ever raised their wand.

“Harry!”, you hear Hermione scold him, but too late. The anger is clearly written upon Draco’s face as he slowly straightens his posture. Reaching for his wand in a flash, the next few seconds pass in slow motion.

“Cruci-“

“Expelliarmus!”, you quickly interrupt when you realize what Draco was about to say, and his wand flies through the air, landing right in front of your feet. An uncomfortable silence spreads and even Draco does not seem to understand what he was about to do.

“You have totally gone crazy!”, Ron is the first so speak up and angrily stomps towards your still stunned boyfriend, but you quickly stand between them, protecting Draco.

“Ron, stop it”, Hermione talks him out of doing anything stupid until he finally gives in and lets her pull him away. With an disparaging look, the three of them disappear into the next corridor.

“Are you actually crazy!?”, you turn to Draco, who immediately lowers his head, obviously understanding that his actions were wrong. “These curses are called unforgivable for a reason, Draco! I thought you listened to Snape today, damn it!”

“I-I am sorry”, he manages to say, lifting his head to look at you, trying to show you that he is serious. “But you hate them too!”

“And yet I would never harm them physically!”, you reply irritably and shove his wand back into his hand. You then turn away, shaking your head.

“I apologized! Wait, babe-“

“No, Draco. You went too far this time”, you interrupt him and pull your wrist out of his grip. With these words you leave him alone and make your way into the filled Great Hall. Once you arrive inside, you feel the burning and piercing looks of the whole Gryffindor table on you, but you choose to ignore them and walk straight up to their table. Contrary to what you expected, their conversations suddenly fall silent when you walk up to Hermione.

“Can we talk for a moment?”, you ask her with no emotion in your voice or face, but your eyes are almost begging her, and your heart is leaping. After exchanging a few glances with the Weasley twins and their little sister, Hermione nods in agreement and follows you out of the Great Hall into the silence of the corridors.

“What is it?”, she sighs and puts her hands on her hips.

“I wanted to apologize for Draco’s behavior. He really did not mean it, you have to believe me. Draco can be so incredibly stubborn sometimes, but he would never want to harm any of you”, you rant to her while she listens closely.

“First of all, I am not the one you should apologize to, and most importantly, you should not be the one to apologize”, Hermione replies, rubbing her fingers against her temple. “We both know what happens to wizards who cast one of these curse-“

“Shh!” you interrupt her and quickly cover her mouth, suppressing her words. “I know. But- Well I-“

“I accept your apology, Y/N. After all, Harry and Ron were not entirely innocent either”, she explains to you and for a brief moment you see a small smile cross her lips. Right now, you would love to hug her.

“Thank you”, you say from the bottom of your heart. Sometimes it can actually be helpful to approach things with a little kindness.

“I am also sorry about what happened. Let us just forget about it”, she suggests, and you agree without hesitation.

And Hermione really is just as sorry as you are. Especially when Ron tells her about his nasty plan at breakfast the next morning. Hermione did not get around to tell them about your apology yet, which is why Ron still wants revenge. With the help of Fred and George, he prepared a small potion of Draught of the Living Death and gave it into Draco’s glass. But when Hermione finds out about it, it is already too late.

She can only helplessly watch as you suddenly ingest the toxic mixture instead of Draco.

You, on the other hand, did not even notice that there is something strange about your drink and continue to talk with Pansy, while still giving Draco the cold shoulder. Of course, he has apologized a thousand times, but if you do not punish him in some way, he will never learn from it.

Nevertheless, you are quite glad that he does not leave your side for the whole day, because when you feel lightheaded all of a sudden and shortly afterwards pass out, he is by your side immediately, catching you.

“Babe, can you hear me?!”, Draco basically yells in your face before gently patting your cheek, causing you to open your eyes again. Confused and disoriented, you look around, not remembering what happened.

“What- What happened?”, you ask limp, almost not able to get your teeth apart to speak while your eyes keep feeling extremely heavy.

“You passed out”, he explains as he is already heaving you into his strong arms. “I will take you to your room, you have to rest.”

Carefully, he lays you down on the soft mattress of your bed and covers your body with the blanket, completely wrapping you up before he sits on the edge of the bed and closely watches you. You weakly reach for his hand and run your thumb over the back of his hand before a quiet ‘thank you’ leaves your lips, drifting into a deep sleep.

After Draco lingers by your side for several hours silently, inwardly dying of worry, Pansy finally compels him to go to the Great Hall for dinner and then catch up on some sleep himself while she takes care of you. Only when she promises, does he consent and leave your room.

It is already late in the evening when Pansy goes to bed after finishing her homework while keeping an eye on you the whole time. Just as she is about to make herself comfortable, she notices that your chest is no longer moving up and down regularly as it was a few minutes ago.

You do not breathe anymore.

“Y/N!”, Pansy yells and runs to your side, placing her hands on your shoulders to shake you awake. “Wake up, wake up! Damn it!”

No matter how long she shakes your body, you will not wake up even when she slaps you lightly. You do not move an inch and your face looks as pale as that of a corpse. As if you were already lingering among the dead. As if you were in a deathlike slumber. If you had not suddenly started breathing again, Pansy would really have believed that you were gone.

Thereupon, she loses no more time and sprints out of the room, almost falling down the stairs on the way to the Great Hall. Because it is already so late in the evening, there are only a few students sitting at the tables, looking at her in shock when she rushes inside.

“Draco! It is Y/N! You- She just won’t wake up”, Pansy calls out across the hall and hurries over to the Slytherin table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watch what is happening with a sense of guilt from the other side.

Before Draco can follow Pansy to the common room, Hermione blocks his way, along with Harry and Ron, briefly stopping him, causing Draco to get angry right away.

“Get out of the way! I do not have time for-“

“Listen, Malfoy! She drank Draught of the Living Death, that is why she does not wake up”, Harry interrupts him and Draco’s eyes widen in an instant.

“What?!”

“Originally, it was meant for you! As revenge”, Ron admits, hiding himself behind Hermione, just in case.

“Are you stupid?!”, Draco hisses and takes a dangerous step towards Ron, but before the situation can escalate again, Hermione intervenes.

“Now is not the time! Fred and George created the potion so they will be able to make the antidote as well. We just need a little more time”, Hermione negotiates and Draco reluctantly agrees before they part ways again and he takes the quickest way back to you.

Staying by your side all night, the tension in his body does not fade and even though his eyes start to slowly feel heavy, he stays awake. He will not let you out of his sight and pays particular attention to your breathing, which initially remains regular. When Hermione joins them in your room, a vessel in her hand, he is finally relieved from his suffering.

“This is Wiggenweld Potion. It reverses the effects of Sleeping Draughts”, she explains and hands Draco the potion. "It is not exactly described how to give it to the victim though I once heard that a prince used it to heal a princess. With a kiss.”

Hermione did not even finish her sentence as you can already feel Draco’s soft lips on yours and within a few seconds, your eyes flutter open. Whatever is just flowing down your throat tastes bitter and you look around confused, looking into blurred faces that seem relieved.

“For Merlin’s sake, you are alive”, Draco breathes out, hugging you tightly, so tight that he almost chokes you. Inhaling his pleasant scent, your exhausted body relaxes, but you still can’t remember anything. After you passed out in the hallway, you felt like you were floating on clouds. You could not hear anymore, could not move and for a brief moment you saw a bright white light in front of you, coming closer and closer.

“What happened?”, your voice comes out muffled as you talk against Draco’s shoulder. He loosens his arms around you and takes both of your hands in his, running his fingers over your delicate palms.

“You were under the influence of the Draught of the Living Death. Ron apparently mixed it into your drink by accident. It was meant for me and- I am so terribly sorry. If I had not been so stupid, then-“

“Then I would still be sleeping now”, you finish his sentence and give him a gentle smile, the tension in his face and body disappearing. Slowly leaning forward, you connect your lips again, this time for a proper kiss. “I am not mad at neither you nor Ron.”

In the corner of your eye, you also see Hermione relax at your words, breathing out deeply.

“Did you at least learn from it?”, you lift an eyebrow and look at Draco expectantly.

“I swear that I will never ever in my life even think about uttering one of those curses again”, he explains honestly and raises his hands in defense. “I was stupid and I will apologize to them.”

“Already done”, Hermione smiles and opens the door, causing Harry and Ron to stumble into the room, Ron looking at you anxiously and with uncertainty.

“Do not worry, Ron. I am fine”, you reassure him, but his gaze still wanders between Draco and you, not sure how to judge the scene.

“How about we agree that we still do not like each other, but that we at least do no more physical harm?”, Draco suggests and after everyone agreed and said goodbye, he is the only one who stays by your side.

“You look tired, babe. You should get some sleep”, you mention and take his face between your hands, softly caressing his cheeks.

“You do not seriously think that I will let you sleep alone after all of this, do you?”, he states as he is already making himself comfortable on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him, protecting you from all the evil in the world. In fact, he does, and keeps his word. After this incident there has never been another one.

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part i: gifts (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred doesn't like to admit that he gets jealous when it comes to his girlfriend, after a overhearing a conversation where the love of his life is the topic he goes shopping.

warnings: jealously, slight possessiveness, greasy comments from greasy guys, kissing, fred playfully slaps y/n's butt once.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is the first instalment of my love language series, i'm hoping to update it over the next four mondays!! i'm starting a taglist for this series and for my future writings in general which you'll find here, i'm so excited to keep writing for this series and i'd love to hear what y'all think of it - my ask is always open and i can't wait to hear your opinions!!

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part ii // part iii // part iv

Fred laid back on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head as he watched his girlfriend adjust her uniform in the mirror. Fred had known Y/N for years but she had become a Weasley family staple after she rescued a very stressed Ron in the library who was pouring over a potions essay that Hermoine had refused to help with. It wasn’t until they had convinced Y/N to spend the summer at the Burrow with them this past year that Fred had finally worked up the nerve to express his feelings for her, and now here she was flashing him that sunshine smile in his dorm room, his mirror, making her way over to kiss his lips.

“You’re staring Freddie.” She giggled, as she plopped down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can’t help it angel.” He replied, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “You’re just too good to be all mine.”

“Well-” she started “I can assure you that I am, my love.” He chuckled as he placed another kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on hers for a little longer than she probably should have. In all honesty, Y/N had been crushing on Fred for years, long before he had even known who she was. She had simply intended on observing him from afar, sneaking in quiet chuckles at the jokes he and George cracked in class, stealing quick glances at him across the Great Hall as he teased his siblings. But when she developed quite the unlikely friendship with his younger brother and they had invited her to their family home, Fred started to see her in a different light. Y/N had been at the Burrow for over a month when Fred finally realized that maybe the reason he always wanted to be close to her and that he laughed the hardest at her jokes wasn’t just because he wanted to be her friend, he wanted to be her boyfriend, he was in love with her.

She was everything he had ever wanted, the perfect girl for him, but her being perfect made her quite the center of attention. Fred would never admit that he was jealous but the stares she attracted as the pair walked down the hallways always got to him. However, she never noticed the way other people looked at her, probably because she was too busy staring at him, too focused on the feeling of his hand in hers.

“Freddie.” She whined, wriggling in his grasp. “I’ve got to get to the library and you’ve got practice.” She giggled as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

“The library isn’t going anywhere and they won’t mind if I’m late.” He mumbled which earned a playful scoff from her.

“I have a feeling that your lateness will not be excused.” She replied as he groaned into her skin.

“Fine.” He spoke before placing a playful smack to her butt, signalling for her to move off of him so he could reluctantly get ready for quidditch practice.

“Don’t worry Freddie, I'll find you once you're done.” She cooed, placing a kiss to his lips before making her way out of his room and down the hall, leaving him breathless, once again.

Fred quickly got dressed and started the trek towards the pitch, his head flooded with the thoughts of Y/N, a smile seemed permanently etched on his face. Until he overheard voices from around the corner; there stood two Ravenclaw boys leaning against the wall, and the topic of discussion happened to be his girlfriend. Fred gritted his teeth at the sound of her name coming from such mouths, his jaw becoming tight as he felt his hands ball themselves into fists.

“No, I’m telling you, she knows how to fill a uniform.” One of them groaned as the other laughed in agreement. The thought of someone staring at her, making such comments about his girlfriend made him angry, but the fact that they were looking at her like that, like she was nothing more than a body, infuriated him. She was so much more than that, sure she was gorgeous but she also helped his younger siblings with their homework when they couldn’t figure something out, she baked bread with his mother on Sunday mornings and always reassured him when he felt like the entire world was against him.

“You’re right.” The other remarked. “Don’t know what she sees in Weasley. Merlin, she could do so much better.” He added, running a hand through his hair. Fred couldn’t listen any longer, couldn’t handle the garbage he was hearing.

“And I assume you think you’re better eh?” Fred spoke as he sulked his way out of the shadows, causing the two boys to jump at the sound of his voice. “Quiet now, are we?” He chuckled.

“It’s only the truth Weasley, she’ll leave you at the sight of someone better.” The braver of the two spoke. “You’ll be tossed out soon enough.” Fred could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, but he knew that Y/N would despise the thought of him fighting, especially over her.

“We’ll see about that.” He breathed, feigning a lack of bother, the two boys stared at him, shocked at his response as he simply walked past them.

The week had melted itself into the weekend and the thought of his conversation in the hallway still plagued him, he knew Y/N wasn’t like that, she wouldn’t simply drop him if someone better came along. He knew that she loved him, knew that she barely even noticed those who were interested in her no matter how persistent their efforts in pursuing her were. But he needed something, something to prove that she was his, something that could show that she was proud to be his. After seething over this for the past week, thinking about constantly pulling his jumper over her head or maybe just never letting go of her hand in an attempt to keep greasy eyes off of her, it finally hit him and after a sneaky visit to a jewelry store he had a solution.

“Hey princess.” He spoke, excitement evident in his tone as he took his spot next to Y/N in front of the tree she was leaning against.

“Hi, my love.” She replied, abandoning the book she was reading to lay her head in his lap. He sighed with content, running his fingers through her hair as she gazed up at him, nothing but pure love gracing her features.

“I got you something.” Fred said softly as he ran a thumb across her cheek, she looked up at him, taking the hand that wasn’t occupied on her face into her own, interlacing their fingers.

“Freddie-” She started, but he stopped her, pressing a finger to her lips.

“No, no, no.” He protested. “I know you always say you don’t need gifts but this one means a lot to me.” She stared at him curiously as he continued to speak.

“I overheard these guys talking about you and I tried to not let it get to me but I- I couldn’t.” He spoke, her face softening. “I know you love me and I love you more than anything, I just wanted to get you something that could show everyone that, that could show you that.” He ran his fingers through his crimson hair and let out a shaky breath as she brought his hand to her mouth, gently kissing each knuckle. He was so nervous, he had planned exactly how to go about this in his head, but here in this situation, with her staring up at him with those eyes, all previous thoughts of smooth words and flirting were abandoned. He wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to her, tell her every single reason why he loved her, kiss every inch of her body.

“I always say I don’t get jealous when it comes to you, but I do, I hate it when other people look at you the same way I do.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “You’re the love of my life Y/N, there is absolutely no one out there better for me than you, I’m all in.”

“I couldn't agree more Freddie, all my bets are on you.” Y/N said, rising from her spot in his lap to straddle him. She placed her palms against either side of his face, resting her forehead against his closing her eyes and feeling the heat of his cheeks against her hands. Fred reached into his jacket pocket to reveal a small velvet box, Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the sight. He chuckled, sensing her surprise.

“It’s not an engagement ring angel.” He started, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “At least not yet.” He opened the box, where a simple silver necklace sat, four letters sat in the middle, his name in plain script. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as Fred pulled the necklace out of the box and loosened the clasp.

“May I?” He asked, a grin etching itself on his face.

“Of course.” She whispered as he placed the chain around her neck.

“There.” He spoke, leaning back to admire her, she looked so pretty with his name lying against her skin. “What do you think?” He asked, his voice quiet as he searched her face for some sort of indication into how she felt about the gift. She stayed quiet for a moment, simply staring down at the necklace, she ran a finger across the letters as Fred bit his lip, nervous at her sudden silence.

“I love it Freddie.” She whispered, pulling his face to hers capturing his lips with her own before kissing his forehead, both his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his lips again and again. He broke into a full fledged laugh until he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh no princess, don’t cry.” He chuckled, wiping away stray tears.

“They’re happy tears Freddie.” She giggled. “Just love you so much.”

“I bet I love you more though.” He retorted, resting his hands on her waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’ll have to buy you more gifts if you keep kissing me like that.”

Y/N sighed in response, her fingers twirled in the hair at the nape of his neck. They both knew that Fred could never buy her another gift for as long as they both lived and she would still love him as much as she did in this very moment. There was so much uncertainty in the future but right now, with his name around her neck and his arms wrapped so tightly around her waist she knew that no matter what happened in the next month, the next year and for the rest of her life, her love would be completely and utterly Fred Weasleys.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds

[cntrpt]

My turn to ask you random questions now, friend!

(If this ever gets annoying feel free to tell me to stop LOL)

If you could have any super power, which would you choose and why?

Do you have a hidden talent that no one knows about? If not, what's one you wish you had?

What's something that made you laugh recently?

And lastly, how are you doing??

Don't worry, I love these asking games too! It's always a nice conversation starter and a safe way to get to know people :))

Invisibility is always my #1, it would be really cool being able to sneak around without anyone knowing. When I was little sometimes I would daydream about this, and it kinda sticked with me, but I also love telekinesis!

Uhm idk if it classifies as a talent, but I still have told no one irl that I wrote fanfiction, everybody still knows me as the one who despised writing (*deadly stare at school essays*)...even if I have an inkling that my sister found out about it. Oh well, that's on her. Something else is that during covid quarantine I tried out sewing by making some fandom pins, nothing special, but it was pretty fun, and I'd like to improve and do something similar again one day

Actually, under your last long post, tumblr suggested some of your older ones, and there was this one quote from pll that I was convinced had been made up by a youtube guy, when apparently is an actual quote. When I discovered this I lost it, and I instantly saved it to reblog it later (so don't worry, I wasn't stalking you, it just appeared ahah)

I'm doing pretty fine rn, thanks for asking🥰 Keeping myself busy (maybe a little too much) and I've got a few things to look forward to, so that's good! How are YOU doing? :)