#bertie needs a hug

[spiritundaunted]

The Duke of York making his speech at the closing of the Empire Exhibition at Wembley Stadium., in October 1925.

Gosh, you can really see how nervous he is!

I just want to give him a hug! 🥺

So nervous.... 😥 😬

Elizabeth always makes it better..... 🥹

(my first attempt at gifs so be merciful! )

Source video

[spiritundaunted]

Need to look at something nice tonight.

Two portraits of King George VI which were considered for use on postage stamps. The latter one was chosen; the former rejected. (I think they’re both delightful; Bertie has the perfect profile!)

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ cloud nine p2.✦ 」

Mattheo riddle × reader [part1]

Summary: The "jinx girl," as they call her, is said to bring bad luck. However, when Mattheo Riddle decides to get to know the school's most neglected girl and takes matters into his own hands, Y/N's life is turned upside down in a mere night.

Warnings:angst, smut, fluff

Words: 13.5k

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[ A Cry for Help (and Hippogriffs)]

Dear Uncle Ben ,

Consider this my official "You were absolutely right (but with way more heartbreak)" letter. Remember all those warnings you showered me with before I left for Hogwarts? Werewolves, Dementors, rogue Gillyweed incidents (honestly, who even uses that stuff anymore?) You covered the whole spectrum of nightmarish magical creatures. But why, oh why, did you neglect to warn me about charming Slytherins with a really really pretty smiles and the ability to shatter hearts ?

Yes, Uncle Ben, your favorite niece (and, let's be honest, only niece) has officially fallen from cloud nine and landed face-first in a puddle of disappointment. Remember Mattheo Riddle? The one with the eyes like melted chocolate and a smile that could disarm a grumpy Hippogriff? Turns out….well, you get the picture. My heart is in as many pieces as a poorly repaired Floo Network."

So, here's the thing, Uncle Ben . **I'm done. Hogwarts can keep its feasts, its Quidditch matches, and its overly enthusiastic Potions lessons.** I wouldn't be caught dead on the Hogwarts Express, and frankly, the Burrow isn't exactly calling my name right now either.

This is where you come in, my valiant (and hopefully broomstick-wielding) savior. **I need an extraction, Uncle Ben . A daring rescue. A grand exit that would make even Dumbledore raise an eyebrow.** Floo powder me out? Sneak me aboard a disguised Thestral? Honestly, at this point, I'd even settle for a well-timed Hippogriff stampede (though maybe not – those beaks look awfully sharp).

So please uncle Ben As soon as this letter reaches your extraordinary hands, pack your Niffler leash, your Newt-approved travel kettle, and anything else that might help

Your distraught (and slightly heartbroken) niece,

Y/N

P.S. Please bring some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Maybe a chocolate frog or two wouldn't hurt either.

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After folding the letter with care, I sealed it using a wax stamp adorned with a grumpy-looking Kneazle, a delightful creation from a talented first-year Hufflepuff. Placing it inside an owl-sized envelope addressed to "Benjamin Scamander, Ministry of Magical Creatures, Department for Beast Regulation and Control," I sent it off with a silent prayer for a speedy rescue.

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Y/N

Consider it done. Talon wasn't thrilled about the Beans (apparently, they don't quite mesh with his sophisticated palate), but the chocolate frogs seemed to appease him. Be ready by nightfall. We'll have a proper family reunion, Hippogriff style.

P.S. Don't worry about any "Hippogriff stampedes." Talon's surprisingly well-mannered (for the most part).

Love,

Uncle Ben

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After two blissful days away from Hogwarts at Uncle Ben's cozy cottage in the Welsh hills, I woke up to find him bustling about the room. Despite the comfort and serenity of our time together, I couldn't shake off the tears that stained his (probably very expensive) linens.

He lumbered in, a steaming mug clutched in his hand, followed by a bewildered-looking Billywig (apparently, they weren't exactly known for their graceful exits).

"Here," he said kindly, placing the mug on the bedside table. "Peppermint tea. Guaranteed to cure a broken heart… or at least numb it a bit."

I took a shaky sip, the warmth spreading through me like a gentle hug. Uncle Ben perched on the edge of the bed, concern evident in his gaze that battled with his usual amusement.

"Alright, spill it," he finally said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "What's got you blubbering like a Bowtruckle caught in a rainstorm?"

I choked on a sob, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "It's just… everything. Mattheo… the rumors… the whole thing feels so stupid."

"Stupid? Sweetheart, this is practically a textbook case of teenage wizarding drama!," Uncle Ben said with a chuckle.

"First, the rumors. Turns out Charlie Spinnet, fancies you and that by the way explains the sudden change in cologne and his haircut whenever he visits. But then instead of acting like a normal human being, he decided to spread those ridiculous stories about you being a jinx?"

I nodded, sniffling. "And then there's Riddle Jr.," Uncle Ben continued, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Used you for a dare? Honestly, these Slytherins – where's the chivalry gone? Back in my day, we at least serenaded our crushes with a well-timed love potion, not a staged play."

"I know right? !" I cried, wiping away fresh tears, he come closer pulling me into a warm hug.

When the last tear finally dried, a heavy silence settled between us. My eyelids drooped, exhaustion pulling me under. "Uncle Ben," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep, "Can I… can I leave Hogwarts?"

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Is that what you want, Y/N?"

"I don't… I don't want to see him, or them, or…" My voice trailed off, the thought of facing whispers and pitying glances unbearable.

He squeezed my hand gently. "There are other schools, Y/N. Places where you can learn, grow, and maybe even find someone who truly appreciates you."

A flicker of hope sparked within me. A fresh start? A chance to heal away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers? "Do you think… could I transfer… maybe to Beauxbatons?"

Uncle Ben chuckled. "Beauxbatons? Now that's an interesting choice. But hey, if you fancy learning with a bunch of wand-waving fashionistas, who am I to say no?"

The crisp Welsh air whipped through my hair as I sat on the porch swing, watching the sun set over the rolling hills. Uncle Ben's cottage, nestled amongst ancient oaks, seemed even cozier with the warm, orange light bathing its stone walls.

Thankfully, he'd managed to smooth things over with my parents, convincing them it would be perfect for me to stay with him until I figured out what to do about school.

Weeks melted into each other, and a unsettling undercurrent began to ripple through the otherwise idyllic setting. Every boy who showed even a flicker of interest in me or mustered the courage to ask me out –vanished after our initial encounter. Poof. Gone.

Only to reappear the next day, looking sheepish and pale, with mumbled apologies for missing our planned date . "something came up" or a sudden "family emergency."

kind, awkward Liam, sporty William , even that quiet bookworm Ethan – they all faced the same fate , a freckled boy named Callum, practically leaped over a nearby toadstool with a yelp, his face blanching as if he'd seen a ghost. It was as though the sight of the bumpy amphibian unearthed a buried terror within him.

And it’s seems like anyone who would show any interest in me will face the same fate

Case in point: a particular book I had discussed with a boy who worked at the library and had also asked me out for a date. The next day, that very book was on uncle Ben leaving room the next day and I knew for sure that uncle Ben wasn’t the one who did that .

Curiosity piqued, I went to the library to inquire about the book's whereabouts, only to find the boy in a state of sheer terror. He avoided eye contact and stammered out a nervous apology, his fear palpable in the way he trembled. It was as if he had encountered something terrifying, something that left him traumatized overnight. Unsettled by the encounter, I sought help from another library assistant to locate the book I wanted. This time, the assistant was more than eager to assist, his eyes darting around nervously as if expecting something unexpected to happen again.

Weeks dragged by, each day a monotonous echo of the last.

As I wake up today a tear slipped down my cheek, tracing a warm path through the cool morning air. I cursed myself under my breath, blinking furiously to clear my vision. There it was again, the lingering echo of his touch, the warmth of his smile, all remnants of a cruel dream.

Damn it. I cursed myself under my breath, throwing the covers back with a huff. How dare I miss him? How dare my traitorous subconscious paint him in a loving light after everything? The betrayal, the lies, they were all still raw, a constant reminder of his deceit.

Feeling the need for some solace and quiet reflection, I decided to head to the library

The usually a comforting haven, was eerily silent. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Did the boy who worked here quit ? Thanks a lot, Mattheo.

Pushing open the library doors, I was greeted by an unsettling emptiness. Pushing the thought aside, I navigated the towering bookshelves, half expecting some kind of magical mishap – maybe a rogue pixie infestation? With a spine-tingling creak. An unsettling feeling wormed its way into my stomach. Surely Johnny, the cute boy who worked here, wouldn't leave the entire library unattended?

"Hello, Johnny?" I called out, my voice echoing eerily in the vast space. No answer. Great. Just fantastic.

Shrugging it off, I ventured deeper into the labyrinth of bookshelves. The silence pressed in on me, broken only by the soft pad of my footsteps. Halfway expecting a rogue Acromantula to drop from the ceiling or a mischievous pixie to trip me with a strategically placed shoelace, I navigated the towering stacks.

Suddenly, a loud creak pierced the silence. My heart lurched, and I spun around, wand instinctively halfway out of my pocket. The heavy library door swung shut with an ominous finality. For a moment, I stood frozen, every nerve on high alert. Was I alone?

and there he was ... His usual playful smirk was replaced by a furrowed brow and a flicker of something… hurt? Regret? It was a confusing cocktail that sent my carefully constructed facade teetering on the edge of collapse.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest. My carefully crafted mask of indifference felt like it was cracking under the sheer force of seeing him.

the silence of the library seemed deafening, amplifying the chaotic symphony playing out inside me.

I plastered a smile on my face, hoping it came across as confident and not the terrified mess I truly felt. This was ridiculous. He was the one who lied and betrayed me, not the other way around. Yet, here I was, feeling like I was the one on trial.

"Dramatic much?" I spat, my voice laced with venom. "So what's the deal now, Riddle? Bored with your little toad transformation hobby? Decided to haunt the library instead?"

He gave me a slow once-over, his gaze lingering a beat too long. It sent a shiver down my spine, a confusing mix of anger and a vulnerability I desperately tried to suppress.

Folding my arms, I tried to project an air of annoyance. "Look, Riddle," I said, forcing a harsher tone than I felt. "Let's cut to the chase. Open the door and disappear."

As he took a tentative step towards me, the carefully constructed wall around my emotions started to crumble. His eyes held a depth of emotion I couldn't decipher – hurt? Regret? It was a confusing mix that threatened to unravel me.

"You never mentioned you were a Scamander," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The sound of it after all this time, even laced with the echoes of past pain, was a punch to the gut.

-well technically I was from my mother side but i never dared to say that to anyone afraid to bring shame to the family name , because I never felt like I deserved to.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyelids, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "And you," I choked out, the words raw with hurt, "never mentioned being fucking liar . Seems like we're even, wouldn't you agree?"

he started to speak. "I know you don’t want to listen—"

Frustration bubbled over before he could finish his sentence. "Why are you even here, Riddle?" I snapped. "You know I don't want to hear your excuses."

His gaze held mine, unwavering despite the storm brewing in my own eyes.

"Stop staring at me like that!" I hissed, the vulnerability I desperately tried to hide threatening to spill over.

Desperate to break the tension, I lunged for the door, yanking on the handle. Panic surged as it remained stubbornly shut. "What's wrong with this stupid door?" I yelled, "We can't use magic outside Hogwarts!" I exclaimed, bewildered. "Did you do something to the door?" Kicking it with my foot in frustration.

Spinning back to face him, my voice trembled with a mix of fury and fear. "What did you do to those boys, Mattheo? Turned them into toads?"

A smirk played on his lips, a sight that only intensified my urge to lash out. "Not all of them," he countered, his voice laced with a hint of something… jealousy? "Why? Do you care about them?"

“Apparently I did “I challenged, my voice laced with a bitterness I couldn't hide, "That's why I agreed to go out with them in the first place."

His smugness evaporated, replaced by a desperate plea that sent a shiver down my spine. "Don't go to Beauxbatons, love," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, laced with such raw emotion it threatened to crack the dam of my anger ,considering his impressive stalking skills I wasn’t surprised he knew about that ..

"Don't call me that, Riddle," I choked out, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the traitorous tears that welled up. When I opened them again, the sight that greeted me was my breaking point.

Hurt, confusion, and a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like longing swirled in his eyes. "Why - why did you keep calling me that? Why not say my name?" he asked, his voice thick with a pain that mirrored my own.

"It's just Riddle for me now ," I said, my voice cold, a desperate attempt to shield myself from the storm of emotions brewing within me.

"Please," he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the air. "Please don't go to Beauxbatons."

"Get out of my way," I snapped, my voice laced with a venom I barely recognized. "I won't say it again."

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes pleading. "I'm not above begging," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I'll do anything you ask. You say you hate me, then hate me. Ruin my life. Do whatever will make you feel better, just do it in front of me. Stay at Hogwarts."

Shock rendered me speechless. "Don't do this," he continued, his voice cracking. "Not for me, but for you. Don't run away. If anyone deserves to leave Hogwarts, it's not you. Please, don't do this."

His words hung heavy in the air, each one a shard of truth that pierced the carefully constructed wall of anger I'd built around myself. "Let go of my hand, Mattheo," I whispered, not daring to look at him. He released me slowly, his touch a lingering ghost on my skin.

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick. Finally, I forced myself to meet his gaze. My own eyes, red-rimmed and tear-filled, mirrored the raw emotion in his. With a shaky breath, I whispered, "Open the door now , please."

He nodded, his face etched with pain. The door swung open silently, and for a moment, our eyes locked. Then, without a word, I turned and walked towards the door.

But before I reached the doorway, a new urgency filled his voice. "Y/N, wait!" He reached out a hand, but stopped himself before making contact. "I know I messed up. There's no excuse for what I did, but please believe me – I love you. And I'm not giving us up. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea rolled into one. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, Taking a deep. I turned and walked out, leaving Mattheo standing alone in the empty library.

Reaching Uncle Ben's cozy cottage, I fumbled with the latch, my vision obscured by a fresh wave of tears. The door creaked open to reveal Uncle Ben, his face creasing in concern at the sight of me. Before I could even think of a response, I was enveloped in his warm, familiar embrace.

"Merlin's beard, Y/N," he chuckled, his voice laced with concern, "what happened? Did you lose a duel with a particularly grumpy pixie?"

Pulling back, I managed a watery smile. "Something like that," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Uncle Ben's gaze narrowed, his playful demeanor replaced by a more serious one.

"You know, all this tears and sniffles could lead one to believe…"

He paused dramatically, dragging out the suspense. "You are not pregnant, are you?”

"Pregnant? Uncle Ben, seriously?"

He threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. "Just checking! Seriously that world won’t survive another riddle “

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the crackling fire in the hearth.

"You know," he finally said, his voice gentle, "sometimes the heart wants what it wants, regardless of past hurts." He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a knowing warmth. "The question is, Y/N, what does yours truly want?"

"I don't really know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "One thing's for sure, though. I'm done running. I can't keep letting fear dictate my life."

“Every time something gets hard, I pack my metaphorical bags and vanish. But this time… this time it feels different."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. "There's this anger inside me, this need for revenge," I confessed, letting out a shaky breath. "It scares me, Uncle Ben. "

Uncle Ben reached for me his hand warm and comforting on mine. "There's a difference, Y/N, between righteous anger and destructive vengeance," he said softly. "Anger can be a powerful motivator, a fuel that can propel you forward. But it's crucial to channel it, to use it to grow stronger, not to let it control you."

Turning to him, I met his gaze with a newfound determination. "So," I started, a mischievous glint sparkling in my eyes, "would you help me pack up my bags for Hogwarts? And maybe... with something 'Scamander related' ?"

A playful smile mirrored mine on his face. "Always up for a good mystery, Y/N," .

The Hogwarts Express journey wasn't the gauntlet of whispers and pointed fingers I'd braced myself for. The carriage felt eerily quiet, devoid of the usual gossipy chatter and giggling. A part of me wondered if this unsettling silence was Mattheo's doing.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I rounded the corner, the familiar brick facade of the school looming ahead. Taking a deep breath.

I saw him.

He was leaning against the oak tree by the entrance, a casual posture that couldn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His gaze was fixed on the school doors, and for a thrilling moment, I thought I might have imagined him there.

But then, our eyes met.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before a slow smile bloomed on his face. It wasn't a wide, dazzling grin, but a soft, genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The next morning, a nervous energy thrummed through me. Gone was the urge to flee; instead, a steely determination burned bright. I arrived at Charms class, ridiculously early, senses sharp with focus.

Adrian Pucey sauntered in, brow furrowed. "Y/N? What are you doing here so early? Malfoy's the one meeting me," he said, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Just eager for Charms," I replied coolly. "and you said Malfoy ? No idea, really”

Actually I was the one who wrote him the fake note with Malfoy’s name to come earlier.

He cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze. "Look, about what happened , believe me what Mattheo did to me after was enough to ——"

"Don't worry about it, Adrian," I interrupteda sly smile playing on my lips."Things happen."

His surprise deepened. "You...you forgive me that easily?"

Pulling a cupcake from my bag, I offered it. "Freshly baked. Want some?"

Hesitantly, he took a bite. "Sure, thanks."

"Did you know," I said casually, "Flobberworm milk compels truth?" I winked.

Stepping closer, cupcake in hand, I re-offered it. "Second chances deserve a second cupcake, wouldn't you say?"

He hesitated, then took another bite. "Thanks," he mumbled, cheeks warming.

"Speaking of truth-telling," I said, leaning in conspiratorially, "did you know the tears of a phoenix can be used to create a voice projection charm? Like, if I whispered something to a cupcake with phoenix tears baked in, and you ate it, you'd hear it in your mind ."

He blinked, clearly unsure whether to believe me or not.

"Curious, isn't it," I murmured, "the things you can learn when you spend your summer with magical creatures."

Adrian stammered, "Wh-what have you done?"

"Ever wonder what happens when a Hufflepuff marries a Slytherin?" I continued, savoring his confusion.

A playful glint entered my eyes. "Well, for one, someone might get a taste of their own medicine," I quoted my mother with a smirk.

He attempted nonchalance. "Kids would be too good for Slytherin, not quite Hufflepuff."

"And that," I said, a triumphant smile blooming, "is where things get interesting. Especially with a Scamander in the mix.”

I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face.“And what happens when you push a Scamander kid too far?" I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. "They use their knowledge, their magical creatures... and maybe a touch of Slytherin cunning for a little revenge.

He backed away, eyes wide.

The bell clanged, shattering the playful tension between Adrian and me. Professor Flitwick,bustled in, his voluminous black robes billowing around him like a miniature storm cloud.

"Good morning, class!" he boomed, "Today, we delve into the fascinating art of Wandless Charms! A skill that separates the truly magical from the...well, let's just say it requires a certain finesse."

Professor Flitwick launched into a lively lecture, demonstrating simple levitation charms with a flourish. As he conjured a teacup to pirouette in the air, I noticed Adrian fidgeting in his seat. Leaning in, I whispered playfully, "Enjoying the class, are we, Pucey?"

He shot me a panicked glance, then mumbled something inaudible. Taking a deep breath, I decided to push my luck a little further. With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I mouthed, "Tell the truth about what you feel of this class ."

Suddenly, Adrian's hand shot up, waving wildly. Professor Flitwick, momentarily distracted, peered over his thick spectacles at the unexpected outburst.

"Mr. Pucey?" he inquired, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

"Professor," Adrian blurted out, his voice surprisingly loud in the quiet room, "I hate Charms! It's useless and frankly, you're a terrible teacher!"

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice erupted from Adrian's mouth, echoing through the entire classroom. "I HATE CHARMS! It's the most useless class ever, I CHEATED on the exam LAST YEAR, and And I've been doing everything just to be the center of attention. I've lied, manipulated, and stepped on others to make myself look better."!"

The entire class erupted in stunned silence, followed by a wave of uncontrollable laughter. Adrian's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with horror.

Professor Flitwick, his face purple with rage, sputtered, his fist raised in the air. "Mr. Pucey! Ten points from Slytherin! Detention for a month! And perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey to check your sanity!"

Adrian sunk deeper into his seat, the laughter morphing into snickers and whispers

The laughter slowly faded, replaced by the echoes of Professor Flitwick's threats. I couldn't help but stifle a triumphant smirk. Adrian practically resembled a puddle of misery in his seat, the color completely drained from his face. Mission accomplished.

Just as I reached the aisle, a hand shot out, grabbing my waist in a surprisingly firm grip. Before I could yelp in surprise, two strong hands was on either side of me , pinning me against the cool stone wall. I found myself staring into the eyes of none other than Mattheo .

"That," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine, "was fucking hot."

He brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear with his thumb, Our gazes locked, the air crackling with sudden awareness.

My gaze remained steely, unflinching. "You liked that?" I challenged, my voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"I like everything you do," he replied with a smirk.

"Good," I said, leaning in closer, my voice barely a whisper. "Because that was just child's play. compared to what I'm planning for you, Riddle"

The bell echoed through the hallway, shattering the moment. Mattheo reluctantly released me, a hint of something akin to fascination flickering in his eyes. "Can’t wait my love ," he winked, a mischievous glint sparkling within, before disappearing into the throng of students.

My success with Adrian fueled a mischievous fire within me. The thrill of using magical creatures for a little payback was intoxicating. Professor Flitwick's class became my testing ground, a petri dish for brewing delightful chaos.

Every person who participated in the stupid play faced my revenge; none escaped unscathed.

The once dreaded nickname "Jinx Girl" had faded into a distant memory. This year, I was Lady Luck, a title whispered with a mix of awe and amusement. My string of successful pranks, each meticulously crafted with a dash of magical creature mischief, had transformed my reputation.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustling of leaves in the forbidden forest. "Did you see what happened ? Y/N's behind it, for sure!" or "Isn't it strange how everything's turned around for her lately?" It was a subtle shift, but the air crackled with a new awareness. The "Jinx Girl" label was fading, replaced by a more intriguing title - Lady Luck.

One gloomy afternoon, as I settled into a plush armchair by the crackling fire, a hesitant knock echoed through the room.

"Come in," I called out, peering over the worn pages of a Charms textbook.

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish-looking Charlie . His blonde hair seemed to lose its usual vibrancy under the dim light, and his freckles stood out starkly against his pale face.

"Y/N," he mumbled, scuffing his worn boots on the floor. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Charlie," I said, patting the empty space beside me.

He shuffled in place, fiddling with his wand. "It's... well, everything. The rumors, the play, everything."

“ Look, Y/N, I'm so incredibly sorry. I know I shouldn't have spread those rumors. I... honestly, I was a complete idiot."

"I thought," Charlie continued, his voice laced with shame, "that if I spread those rumors, every boy would stay away from you. I didn't think it would get this bad."

A mixture of anger and curiosity bubbled within me. "Why, Charlie?" I asked, my voice calmer than I felt.

He took a deep breath, his gaze filled with regret. "I… I like you, Y/N a lot since we were just kids but you never noticed me ," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "And when I saw you with Mattheo, well, and after everything he did..."

He hung his head. "And the play," he mumbled. "It was me. I told Adrian about your past. I was so angry… jealous, really. After seeing you with Mattheo."

A wave of emotions washed over me. Anger for his actions, confusion for his feelings, and a spark of something else – mattheo wasn’t the one who told them about what happened .

Taking another deep breath, I met Charlie's gaze. "Those rumors hurt," I admitted, my voice firm but gentle. "And the play…" I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "It was a low blow, Charlie. But…" I hesitated, searching for the right words.

"But you were scared," I finished, a hint of empathy softening my tone. "Jealous, even. It's okay to feel those things, Charlie."

He looked up, a flicker of hope igniting in his blue eyes. "Do you… forgive me?"

I studied him for a moment, taking in his genuine regret. "I do," I said finally. "But forgiveness doesn't erase the consequences. You hurt me, Charlie, and you hurt others I will never forget that ."

Charlie's shoulders slumped. "I know," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I'll do anything to make it up to you."

I smiled faintly. "Please don’t do anything a normal apologize would do ."

Months had passed since I last set foot in the library, and the scent of aged paper and leather, a familiar comfort that once soothed my soul, now felt laced with a bittersweet pang. Yet, stepping back into the hushed haven felt like tumbling through a time warp. The scent of aged paper, the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock, even the worn patches on the armchairs – everything whispered memories of Mattheo, both sweet and stinging.

the silence thrummed with echoes of hushed conversations and stolen glances. Memories of stolen moments with Mattheo – whispered secrets amongst the stacks, fingers brushing as we reached for the same book – played in a loop behind my closed eyelids.

A sigh escaped my lips as the heavy oak door shut with a soft thud behind me. The vastness of the library stretched before me, empty shelves yawning like forgotten dreams. No bustling librarians, no chattering students hunched over dusty tomes. Just me, adrift in a sea of silence, the weight of the past clinging to my every step.

But then I saw him.

Mattheo stood near the Charms section, a sly smirk twisting his lips. His eyes, usually filled with a cool amusement, held a challenge this time. A knot of tension formed in my stomach.

"You forgive him so easily," he drawled, his voice low enough to carry only between the towering bookshelves.

He gestured towards an empty space beside him, a clear invitation. My pulse quickened. Part of me wanted to whirl around and storm out, to deny him the satisfaction of any reaction. But another, more curious part, craved to know what game he was playing.

With a measured breath, I sauntered towards him, my chin held high. "Forgive who?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk deepening. "Come now, Y/N," he said, his voice a silky murmur. "Don't tell me you haven't had a heart-to-heart with Spinnet already."

"What do you really want, Riddle?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Mattheo took a shaky breath, his hand reaching out hesitantly before retracting. "I can't do this anymore, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw. "I thought if I gave you some space..."

"Space?" I scoffed, tears welling up again. "Space? You call watching me all summer, space? I know what you did to those boys, and then threatening everyone in this school on the first day to not talk or do anything to me space??" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

The words tumbled out, fueled by a wellspring of hurt I hadn't even realized I was holding onto. "I don't understand, Mattheo! I don't really understand. I've dealt with difficult things before, truly awful things, but none of them hurt as much as this betrayal. Why? Why can't I get over it? Why does it feel like someone ripped open my soul and stomped on it a million times? Then it hit me. You did that, Mattheo. You."

My voice broke, replaced by a choked sob. "You showed me a love I never knew existed, a love I never dared to dream of , showered me with affection and tenderness. You touched parts of my soul I never knew were there. Every inch of me, every piece of me – my heart, my mind, my soul – had your name written all over it , Every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart, seemed to have your name etched upon it. And then, you snatched it all away.. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but that's a lie. Because feeling your love, then losing it, is the worst pain I've ever experienced.”

The air crackled between us, thick with unspoken emotions and the sting of my tears. Mattheo inched closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. I could feel his breath whisper against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Y/N," he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion ."I know you don't believe me," he confessed, his red- eyes searching mine .

“but this feeling... it terrifies me. I've never felt like this before. Never cared about anyone but myself and Enzo . But then you came along. The purest thing I've ever have , the closest I'll ever get to heaven."

His words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the arrogant facade he usually presented.

"I miss you," he continued, his voice raw with longing. "I miss what we had. The way your smile could light up a room, the way your cheeks would flush the prettiest shade of pink ."

He paused, his hand hovering hesitantly near mine. "I can't do this anymore. This game... it's torture. Every stolen glance, every witty banter, it just makes the truth harder to bear. Tell me what you want me to do. Name it, anything. But please, just end this charade. It's killing me “

A tremor ran through him, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.

He looked at me for a second, taking a shaky breath. Then, the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. "I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not afraid to say it anymore. I regret not approaching you properly, i regret taking that stupid dare ."

His gaze held mine, desperate for any sign of reciprocation. "You asked if everything between us was a lie," he continued, his voice low. "But listen to me now. You're the truest thing that's ever happened to me. I love you, Y/N. And I can't stand there watching you, knowing I can't hold you. I never wanted to hurt you, And I promise, I'll never let anyone hurt you again"

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the quiet library. Every fiber of my being yearned to believe him, to reach out and melt into his embrace. But the betrayal was still fresh, a gaping wound that pulsed with pain.

"I can't trust you anymore, Mattheo," I choked out, the words a bitter truth. "Even if I want to, I can't. Every word you say feels like another lie. I hate you," I confessed, the words ripping from my throat. "I hate you so much for making me want to forgive you. I hate you because I love you so much."

"Don't cry," he pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate sincerity. "I'll do anything. Just say it, and I'll do it."

The promise hung in the air, tempting and dangerous. I reached up and covered his hand with mine, the warmth seeping into my chilled skin. Despite the storm raging inside me, a small part of me craved the comfort of his touch, the solace of forgiveness.

"Then let me go, Mattheo," I whispered, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. "Let me go. Don't approach me. Don't try to fix anything. Just let me go."

The pain in his eyes mirrored the turmoil within me. "Is that what you truly want?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I could only nod, a fresh wave of tears cascading down my face. Every part of me ached to forget the past, to bury my head in his chest and feel the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. But the betrayal was a wall I couldn't climb over, not yet.

"Then I will do it ,love." He brushed away my tears one last time, his touch lingering for a heartbreaking moment before he took a step back. The pain in his eyes was a something i could never forget.

He gave me one last, lingering look before turning and leaving the library, the heavy oak door closing with a finality that echoed the slamming shut of my own heart. The air hung heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

My revenge, I realized with a bitter pang, tasted worse than Flobberworm milk and phonics tears on cupcakes. But in that moment, I didn't realize that in punishing him, I was condemning myself to an equally excruciating torture

Days bled into weeks, each one stretching out with the agonizing slowness of a Dementor's kiss. What I had envisioned as a sweet victory – Mattheo squirming under the weight of my indifference – felt more like a self-inflicted Cruciatus Curse.

The once-familiar halls of Hogwarts became a minefield of awkward silences and stolen glances. Every corner held the ghost of his laughter, every shadowed alcove whispered echoes of his touch. Avoiding him became a constant, exhausting dance.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout droned on about the magical properties of Bubotuber pus, but all I could focus on was the empty space beside me. It had become a glaring absence, a constant reminder of the warmth that used to be there.

Across the room, I could feel his gaze burning into me. But when I dared to steal a glance, his head would be bent diligently over his textbook, his jaw clenched tight. It was a practiced act of indifference, a mask that mirrored the one I wore.

Lunch in the Great Hall was an ordeal. I'd scan the long Slytherin table, searching for any sign of him. Relief would flood me when I wouldn't see him, only to be replaced by a hollow pang of disappointment.

One day, as I shuffled through the crowded hallway, I felt a presence looming behind me. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs. I quickened my pace, clutching my books tighter, willing myself to disappear. But the presence remained, a silent taunt.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I chanced a peek over my shoulder. My stomach lurched. It was him, his face a stony mask, his eyes fixed on a point far beyond me. He sidestepped me with practiced ease, not even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

The charade was relentless. In Potions, Professor Snape's scathing remarks seemed muted compared to the deafening silence between Mattheo and me. We brewed our Draught of Peace with a silent intensity, each movement a calculated act of avoidance.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustle of leaves in a slight breeze. "Did you see them? Not a single word!" one student would murmur to another. Soon, the whispers morphed into open stares, the entire school buzzing with the unspoken tension between us.

It was as if by avoiding each other, we'd created a spectacle far more dramatic than any confrontation could have been. The unspoken longing, the raw emotions hanging heavy in the air – it was a story more captivating than any Quidditch match.

What hurt the most ? I couldn't escape the feeling that everyone else was living their lives, while mine was trapped in this agonizing purgatory of unspoken emotions and a love I couldn't embrace or deny.

The silence between us was deafening, a reminder of the bond we'd shattered. My carefully crafted revenge felt hollow, a Pyrrhic victory that left me as desolate as the empty space beside him. The ache in my chest had little to do with anger and everything to do with a longing I couldn't name.

Then came the worst part. It wasn't just the awkward silences or stolen glances at him interacting with others. It was the way the girls around me perked up, their smiles a bit too wide, their laughter a bit too forced. They saw the distance between Mattheo and me, the void where his presence used to be, as an open invitation.

Professor Sprout's well-meaning attempt to pair us up for a project backfired spectacularly.

Mattheo, his usual smirk replaced by a practiced indifference, meticulously tended to his Venomous Tentacula while I wrestled with a particularly stubborn Flobberworm. The silence between us was thicker than the sap dripping from the Bubotuber pus. We moved with a practiced efficiency, avoiding eye contact, our movements a painful ballet of unspoken hurt and when he was finally done with his part he left without even glancing at me .

Across the room, laughter erupted. A pretty brunette girl, Astoria Greengrass, leaned in conspiratorially towards Mattheo, a giggle escaping her lips. He threw his head back, a genuine smile lighting up his face, a sight that sent a spike of jealousy through me.

My Flobberworm wriggled free, sending a spray of dirt flying. Professor Sprout's raised eyebrow and stern lecture were a welcome distraction from the scene unfolding across the room. The warmth in Mattheo's laughter, the ease with which he interacted with Astoria, was a sharp contrast to the icy distance he maintained with me.

The worst part, however, wasn't the girls themselves. It was the way they looked at me – a mixture of pity and smug satisfaction. Their gazes seemed to say, "See? Now you see what you had and threw away."

Another day, another ordeal. During Charms, a boy from Ravenclaw, Michael Corner, sidled up to me, his voice a steady stream of nervous chatter. He droned on about the upcoming Quidditch match, his words blurring into background noise.

Across the room, I stole a glance at Matteo. He sat slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the textbook in front of him. But a flicker of movement caught my eye. His jaw clenched slightly, knuckles turning white as he gripped the book. He didn't turn towards me, didn't acknowledge Michael's presence. It was as if I, and the boy beside me, simply ceased to exist.

A pang of something akin to disappointment shot through me. Was this truly what he’s doing ? erasing me from his memory? The silence between us, once deafening, now felt suffocating. I craved a reaction, anything to break the monotony of our charade.

Days bled into weeks, each one a monotonous echo of the last. Lunch in the Great Hall was an exercise in self-torture. I sat with some girls from my class , their cheery chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

Across the room, Mattheo sat with a group of Slytherins, his usual arrogance back in place. He spoke in hushed tones, his eyes scanning the room. Did they land on me? I couldn't tell, wouldn't allow myself to hope.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in, whispering something in Mattheo's ear, his gaze flickering towards me. A flicker of something – anger, maybe? – crossed Mattheo's face before he schooled his features back into indifference.

Draco's smirk widened, punctuated by a loud laugh. The sound grated on my nerves, a confirmation that he had successfully moved on, leaving me drowning in the wreckage of our broken connection.

The once vibrant halls of Hogwarts had become a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The whispers, the pointed looks, the morbid fascination with our unspoken war – it all felt suffocating. The silence between us, once deafening, now resonated with a profound emptiness.

In my quest for revenge, I had succeeded in destroying not just him, but a part of myself. And as I stared across the Great Hall, the bitter truth settled in – the only thing more unbearable than his betrayal was his indifference.

The ache in my core pulsed with every stolen glance at Matteo. A single, accidental lock of eyes during Charms was all it took to reignite the inferno I'd thought I'd extinguished. The familiar heat bloomed in my cheeks, spreading downwards, a stark reminder of the raw, physical connection we shared.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, I succumbed to temptation, seeking solace in the darkness of night. With trembling hands, I slipped my fingers inside my pants, yearning for the touch of his hands upon my skin. But no matter how fervently I imagined his touch, it was futile, a poor substitute for the real thing.

His absence loomed large in my mind, a constant reminder of the void he had left behind. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss, longing for the warmth of his embrace.

In the silence of my room, I cried myself to sleep, the weight of my unfulfilled desires weighing heavily upon me. No matter how hard I tried to bury them, the flames of passion continued to burn, fueled by the memory of his touch.

The next day crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the heavy weight in my chest. Just as I contemplated escaping to the familiar comfort of the Slytherin common room, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the deserted hallway – Enzo.

His usual carefree air was replaced by a somberness that mirrored my own. "Y/N," he started hesitantly, his voice uncharacteristically unsure.

"Enzo, hi," I greeted nervously. "Are you... are you alright?"

He paused, his gaze flickering with concern. "I need to talk to you," he finally said, his voice low.

"Sure," I whispered, a nervous smile tugging at my lips.

He gestured towards an empty classroom beside us. We entered, the silence suddenly thick and heavy.

"It's about Mattheo," he began, his voice dropping even lower.

My heart hammered against my ribs,

"What about him?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo took a deep breath, his gaze flickering with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "He — He has a really dangerous disease Y/N," he blurted out, the words heavy in the quiet hallway.

Enzo's words hit me like a Stunning Spell. My breath caught in my throat, the air suddenly thick with a suffocating weight. Disease? Mattheo? It couldn't be true. The anger that had simmered within me for weeks flickered, threatened by a spark of something else – a flicker of fear, of a terrible, dawning realization.

"Disease?" I choked out, the word barely a whisper.

Enzo nodded. "Serious. He doesn't know how long..." He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. "But he's getting worse every day. Refused to tell you himself, stubborn git."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring Enzo's concerned face. "He never said anything," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. "He wouldn't even look at me."

Enzo sighed, a deep rumble that spoke of a burden shared. "He's stubborn, that one. Especially when it comes to protecting you “

"But how could he not tell me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

"He loves you, Y/N," Enzo said, his voice firm. "More than anything, I swear. I've never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you. I knew what he did was unforgivable , but his feelings for you… they're real."

A sob escaped my lips, tears blurring my vision. The image of Mattheo, his usual arrogance replaced by vulnerability, echoed in my mind.

"you deserves to know," Enzo said, his gaze unwavering. "Even if you can't forgive him, even if you hate him… you deserve to know the truth."

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of grief and confusion.

"He'll do anything for you, you know," Enzo continued. "Hiding this… it's killing him. More than the illness itself."

Another sob escaped my lips. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of indifference – it all seemed so petty now, dwarfed by the weight of his illness. All this time, I'd been punishing him, punishing myself, while he…

Panic clawed at my throat. "How bad is it? How long…?" My voice wouldn't form the question.

Enzo shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "I don't know all the details, Y/N. He wouldn't tell me much. But he's getting worse, and by the way there's no cure."

The weight of the revelation pressed down on me. The silent war we waged, the stolen glances filled with unspoken emotions – it all seemed so meaningless now. All I wanted to do was see him, to hold him, to tell him… what?

Looking at Enzo, tears streaming down my face, I whispered, " Where is he?"

Enzo hesitated, then pointed towards the forest . "He's usually there, you know where , trying to clear his head."

"Thank you, Enzo," I croaked, my voice thick with emotion. "For telling me."

Enzo nodded, a hint of a sad smile gracing his lips. "Just… don't let pride get in the way, alright? Talk to him. Figure things out he needs you now more than ever. ." He squeezed my shoulder before turning and leaving me alone with the weight of this revelation.

Enzo's words echoed in my head, each syllable a hammer blow against my chest. Disease. Limited time. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of resentment, all crumbled under the weight of this revelation. Tears blurred my visionI raced through the castle corridors, legs burning, a primal urge driving me forward.

I didn't care about the stares, the confused whispers that followed. I only cared about getting to him , My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat punctuated by a sob that tore through me.

The familiar path to the Forbidden Forest became a blur. Thorns ripped at my robes, branches snagged at my hair, but I didn't feel them. All I felt was a desperate need to reach him, to hold him.

A sharp sting on my knee brought me back to the present. I looked down to see a crimson stain blooming on my robes, a tear in the fabric revealing a scraped knee. But the pain was a mere whisper compared to the agony twisting in my gut.

The memory of his secret place, fueled my desperate run. It was a sanctuary he'd revealed only to me, Now, it was my beacon, the only place I could imagine him seeking solace in his time of despair.

Bursting through the familiar curtain of trees, I skidded to a halt, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. My vision swam, but I could just make out the clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Reaching the clearing, I pushed aside the concealing ivy with trembling hands. The familiar wooden door stood before me, mockingly still. I flung it open, ignoring the groan of rusted hinges.

Pushing the pain aside, I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the blood seeping through my torn robes. The hidden entrance, disguised by a tangle of ivy, materialized before my tear-filled eyes.

With trembling hands, I cleared the vines, pushing through the narrow opening. The familiar scent of earth and damp stone greeted me, a small comfort in the storm raging inside.

Inside the dimly lit chamber, my breath caught in my throat, with my ragged sobs as I stumbled towards the bed. Mattheo peacefully sleeping on , his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Mattheo!" I shrieked, the name a desperate plea that tore through the silence. "Mattheo, wake up!"

He stirred at the sound, his brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. his eyes widening in shock before softening at the sight of my tear-streaked face,the raw panic radiating from my very being.

"Y/N?" he rasped, his voice weak. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Before he could finish his question, I was on him, collapsing onto the bed in a heap of sobs and frantic whispers

His arms wrapped around me. held me close, his voice a soothing murmur against my ear. " it's okay, love," he whispered, his voice thick with concern. "What happened? Are you hurt? Tell me what's wrong, baby did someone…" he trailed off, his voice hardening with a possessive anger."

The sound of those endearment words, so unexpected after weeks of cold silence, sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my cheeks.

"Don't cry, love," he murmured, his voice thick with concern. "Tell me what's wrong. Did someone hurt you? Did someone say something?"

His gaze dropped to the injury, "Oh Merlin," he breathed, his voice laced with self-reproach. "How did you… why did you come here like this?"

My voice, when it finally came, was a choked sob. Words tumbled out in a rush, a jumbled mess of emotions. "Enzo… he told me… you're sick… I… I thought…"

Mattheo's brow furrowed further. He reached out, his touch tentative on my arm. "Slow down, love," he murmured. "What did Enzo tell you?"

I took a shaky breath, wiping at the tears blurring my vision. "That you… that you had a dangerous illness… that you didn't have long."

A bewildered frown creased his forehead. illness? What illness ? “

"Don't lie to me, Mattheo," I pleaded, tears welling up again. "He said you were… you were dying."

"Enzo that fucker ," he muttered, shaking his head . "He must have been trying to get us to talk." He let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound sending a fresh wave of pain through me. "He always did have a dramatic flair."

My entire body tensed. Was he lying? My gaze darted across his face, searching for any sign of truth.

"But Enzo wouldn't lie about something like that," I protested, my voice shaky. "He was so worried. He said you loved me, that I deserved to know."

His arms tightened around me "Well, Enzo got one thing right then,"

"So there's no illness?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo cupped my face in his hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "No illness, love. Just a heartbroken fool who did something incredibly stupid." His gaze softened, searching mine. "You believed him?"

Shame burned in my throat. "I… I was scared,"

Mattheo's expression softened. "Scared about me?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a soothing gesture.

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze as tears threatened to spill over once more.

“you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."A wave of relief washed over me as I melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of my fears slowly lift from my shoulders. In his arms

his playful smile fading, replaced by a sharp concern that etched lines on his face his gaze flicked down to my knee

"Oh Merlin," he muttered, kneeling down to examine the wound. A crimson stain was blossoming on my knee .

"It looks worse than it is, probably," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. But the wince I couldn't quite suppress betrayed me.. He knelt beside me, his touch sending a familiar spark through my body despite the circumstances.

"You shouldn't have run like that," he said gently, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Look at you, all bruised and bleeding."

My cheeks burned, not just from the sting of the wounds, but from the unexpected tenderness in his voice. "I… I just needed to see you," I mumbled, looking away.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, you certainly made an entrance," he said, a hint of amusement returning to his eyes. But his smile faltered as he focused on my wounds .

"Here, let me get you cleaned up," he said, his voice firm.

He rummaged through the surprisingly well-stocked medical kit hidden in the corner, pulling out vials of glistening potions and bandages. The air filled with the pungent scent of dittany as he carefully cleaned my wounds, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Each swipe of the cloth sent a jolt through me, a confusing mix of pain and a strange kind of pleasure. Shame battled with a newfound hope as I met his gaze. The anger and hurt that had clouded his eyes for weeks were gone, replaced by a warmth that sent a flutter to my stomach.

"There," he said finally, tying the last bandage with a practiced ease. "That should hold for now."

As he pulled back, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the air crackled with unspoken words. The silence between us, once heavy with tension, thrummed with a new energy.

"I'm so sorry for barging in like that," I mumbled, looking away.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm but kind. " You scared the daylights out of me, but I'm glad you're here."

"Do__Do you still care about me?" I blurted out, the question tumbling out before I could stop it. Tears welled up again, threatening to spill over.

Mattheo's eyes widened for a moment, then a flicker of something warm crossed them.

"Like... are you kidding me?" he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Of course I do."

My heart hammered in my chest. "But I thought..." I trailed off, unsure how to voice the tangled mess of emotions that had been churning inside me.

"You thought I moved on?" he finished, his voice gentle.

I nodded, ashamed of the doubt that had festered for so long.

"I was giving you space," he explained, "the space you said you needed. But believe me, it was killing me."

"Merlin's beard, Y/N. Every time some bloke even glanced your way, I felt like I might hex the lot of them."

My cheeks burned. As I laughed at what he said

his gaze lingering on my lips. "I swear I didn't tell anyone about what you told me that night," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I had nothing to do with the play. ,I didn't know they were going to do that I only didn't want you to go because it was connected to the dare and I thought if we just stayed away, it would all blow over."

"I know," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Charlie told me."

his messy hair softened by the dim light, his jaw shadowed with a hint of stubble, but his gaze held that same familiar warmth that had always sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

He looked so good, so heartbreakingly handsome, a possessiveness rising in my chest. He was mine

I couldn't hold back any longer. With a soft whimper, I closed the gap between us, my lips meeting his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His lips were warm and soft, molding perfectly to mine.The taste of him – a mixture of mint and something uniquely Mattheo – flooded my senses, sending a jolt through my body.

Mattheo responded instantly, pulling me closer until I was practically settling me on his lap , melting into him . His hands slid down my back.

He held me tightly, as if afraid I might disappear, and the urgency in his kiss mirrored my own. It was a hungry kiss, filled with a raw passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

We explored each other's mouths with a newfound intensity, the taste of him igniting a fire deep within me. Our tongues danced together, a silent conversation filled with unspoken promises and a desperate need for more.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. His eyes, shimmering with desire, held me captive.My own hands tangled in his hair . "I missed you," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

The words echoed my own feelings. God, how I'd missed him.

He kissed me again the kiss deepened, a desperate plea for connection after weeks of longing. My hips instinctively swayed against him, seeking a friction that had been absent for too long. The ache in my core, a dull throb that had plagued me, seemed to lessen with each press of my body against his,It felt like a dam had broken, a release after a drought.

But then I felt it – a firmness pressing against my core, a sensation that sent a jolt through my system. It overwhelmed my senses, momentarily drowning the delicious haze of the kiss. As my body brushed against it again, a guttural moan escaped Mattheo's lips. Reality slammed back, and I tore myself away from the kiss, eyes wide with a sudden realization.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I didn't realize…" my cheeks a fiery red. "Does it hurt you too?"

"Too?"He tilted his head, a playful smile on his face ."What do you mean, baby? What's hurting you?

"I-I just..." I stammered, my cheeks burning like embers. "I don't know... It's just..." Words failed me completely.

His playful smirk deepened the pit in my stomach. "Yeah?" he prompted, his confusion tinged with amusement.

"That would be…" My voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. "That ache, and it won't just go away, no matter what I try."

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. "Oh, my love. That sounds awful." He brushed a fallen strand of hair away from my face, his touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

"Tell me, love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "where does this ache come from?"

before I could confess, a new sensation stole the air from my lungs. His lips, warm and insistent, found my neck again

"Where was that ache coming from, love?" he repeated, his lips soft against my skin, eliciting a moan of pleasure.

"Tell me," he urged, cupping my breast while peppering kisses all over my neck. "I'm still waiting for you to answer me, my love," his voice dominant, commanding my attention.

"It was... down there," I admitted. "It won't go away, no matter what I try," I continued, feeling exposed.

His lips found a sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "And what have you tried to do to make it go away?" he murmured, his voice turning dark .

"I... I tried to do what you did to me before, but I couldn't," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes, their origin unclear. He kissed them away, his lips tender against my skin.

"You tried to touch yourself? Tried to recreate what I did to you? And who were you thinking about while doing it, darling?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"You... it was you. I also imagined it was you, but it didn't work," I confessed.

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, kissing away the last of my tears. Then he continued, his voice low and seductive, "We need to do something about that then , Would you let me kiss it better?"

Unable to tear my gaze from his, I simply nodded, my voice stolen by the intensity in his eyes.

"Words, love,I need to hear your voice "

"Yes, please," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

The kiss that followed was possessive, a searing claim . When he finally pulled away, his eyes burned with a dark intensity.

"Good," he breathed, his voice thick with desire . "Because I'm going to worship every inch of that beautiful body. Every. Inch. Of. You."

With a tenderness that contrasted with the raw desire in his voice, he gently laid me down on the bed. The plush fabric felt cool against my flushed skin as anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach.

His fingers brushed against my collarbone as he meticulously unfastened each button of my shirt. His gaze never left mine, the intensity in his eyes sending shivers down my spine.

"That Ravenclaw boy, Michael Corner, what was he telling you?"

His question jolted me back to reality. I blinked, momentarily confused, then recalled, "Oh, right, Michael. He was talking about the next Quidditch match. I didn't know you noticed."

A wry smile played on his lips. "Oh, believe me, I did," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Every. Single. Second. Especially when his eyes kept flickering back over here."

His gaze dropped pointedly to the space where my shirt now hung open, and a blush crept up my neck.

"Believe me," he whispered,"my eyes were on you the entire time."

Heat pulsed through me as his kisses trailed down my neck, each one a spark igniting a fire within. I squeezed my eyes shut, a strangled moan caught in my throat. Nervous flutters danced in my stomach, a foreign sensation that both scared and thrilled me.

A gasp ripped through me as Matteo's cool fingers dipped beneath my skirt. My skin, flushed from his heated kisses, sent a jolt of contrasting sensation against his touch. It was a delicious shock, leaving me breathless.

"Hey," he murmured, voice laced with concern as he immediately stopped, his brows furrowing. "Is this okay? Do you want me to…"

He began to retract his hand, but before he could fully pull away, I reached out, my fingers blindly grasping at his . "No," I mumbled, the word barely a whisper. My voice betrayed me, shaky and breathless. Why did this simple touch feel so earth-shattering?

"No," I repeated, a little firmer this time, gathering my courage. "I mean, yes. This is… I want that." The last few words tumbled out in a rush, so quiet I wasn't sure if he even heard them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze. I could almost picture the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

A blush crept up my neck as his voice rumbled in my ear, a promise laced with concern. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, love, just say the word. I want this to be good for you." His touch lingered on my bare skin, a burning ember against my suddenly chilled flesh.

The sincerity in his voice calmed the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. I knew he wouldn't push me further than I was ready. Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze, my own desire reflected back in his warm brown eyes.

"I trust you," I whispered, the words a shaky promise.

A slow smile spread across his face, lighting up his features like the sunrise.

The brush of his fingers against the fabric of my bra sent a jolt through me. He paused, his eyes searching mine once more, a silent question hanging in the air.

This time, my response was a small, barely-there nod. It was a hesitant surrender, an invitation whispered on a breath. A satisfied glint sparked in his eyes before he continued his exploration, his touch sending shivers dancing across my skin.

Matteo's fingers grazed the clasp of my bra. The touch was a spark that ignited a fire within me, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Instinctively, my fingers tangled themselves in his hair . He dipped his head, his lips trailing a warm path down my neck before finding a sensitive spot on my chest. A soft moan escaped my lips as he teased the nipple

My back arched involuntarily, a silent plea for him to continue. I tugged on his hair, not wanting him to stop, not wanting this exquisite feeling to end.

"Does that feel good, love?" he murmured against my skin, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," I breathed, the word barely a whisper lost in the symphony of sensations swirling around me. My eyelids fluttered shut, the world dissolving into a haze of touch and taste, the touch of his skin and the warmth of his breath. Everything else faded away .

Moving to my other nipple giving it the same attention .My fingers instinctively tangled themselves in his hair.

A wave of heat washed over me as Matteo's hand brushed against the hem of my skirt soft sigh escaped his lips as his gaze drifted to my soaked panties .

“I’ve wanted this for such a long time, you have no idea,” he murmured, sucking on the skin of my inner thighs as my hands fisted the bedsheets.

“Please,” I begged, feeling no embarrassment about how desperate I sounded. As soon as he began to suck on my clit, all my worries began to vanish. Profane words spilled from my mouth as Matteo took his sweet time with me.

"Merlin, oh, I—" It seemed as if I couldn’t control my mouth any longer; my instincts took over. I knew that I was ready; I wanted him, all of him.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you,” his eyes were pitch black by now pupils were dilated, a dark reflection of the desire .

A loving smile playing on his lips as he slowly inserted a finger into me. It still felt strange to me, a sensation I hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. I was tight around his fingers, but my moans urged him on. Adding another finger, he alternated between sucking, licking, then repeating, drawing me closer to my release,a mind-blowing orgasm that I’d never forget.

My stomach clenched, a tight knot forming as a foreign heat bloomed in my core. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything except his voice and the frantic pounding of my heart. My head arched back against the pillow, muscles involuntarily tightening around his fingers.

" good girl , Come for me, love,"

A guttural moan escaped my lips as pleasure surged through me, a wave cresting and crashing in a series of shivers. "Mattheo," I breathed, his name a desperate prayer repeated again and again.

"That’s fucking right, love ." he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Say my name,no one else says my name quite like you do. It's a sound I desperately missed."

His words fueled the fire within me, and I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, clinging to him as the wave crested and receded. Exhausted but exhilarated, I opened my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine.

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he brushed a kiss across my flushed cheek. The touch ignited a spark within me, and I reached out, my fingers curling around his hand. With a newfound boldness, I drew him closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that spoke volumes.

"I want you Mattheo all of you ," I whispered against his lips, with newfound confidence.

His gaze held mine for a beat, searching for any flicker of hesitation. He saw none, only a reflection of the desire burning brightly in his own eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure, love?" he asked.

"Absolutely sure just be gentle ," I breathed against his lips, the words leaving no room for doubt.

He undressed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving my form. I couldn't help but admire the contours of his body as he revealed each inch of his skin. My fingers tingled with anticipation, and I reached out to trace the lines of his sculpted six-pack, feeling the firmness beneath my touch. His muscles rippled under my fingertips.

My apprehension grew as I looked at his length, my mind swirling with doubts and desires. " will it hurt?" I asked, my voice betraying my fear and curiosity. I couldn't shake the nagging thought of how he would fit inside me.

"I won’t do anything to hurt you. I'll be gentle with you, okay?"he reassured me, his words soothing my nerves.

 “Is that gonna fit?” 

 

 “I’ll make it fit.” He kissed a trail down the valley between my breasts, his lips igniting a flame against my skin. Each touch sent a surge of heat through me, anticipation building with every passing second.

He ran the tip of his hardness through my wet folds agonizingly slowly, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel myself throbbing with need as he coated himself with my slickness, the sensation almost overwhelming. Gasping for breath, I reached out for his free hand holding it , needing the connection to ground me amidst the whirlwind of sensation.

“Breathe for me, baby,” Matteo murmured, his voice laced with tenderness and desire. "Keep your eyes on me. Let me see those pretty eyes."

A sharp hiss escaped my lips as he slowly began to push into me, each inch stretching my muscles as they accommodated his girth. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, a combination of pleasure and slight discomfort mingling together. , his lips pressing tender kisses against my cheeks wiped away the tears .

As he started to roll his hips, a slow and steady rhythm, the initial discomfort gave way to a rush of pleasure that flooded my senses. Each movement sent waves of sensation coursing through me, building the intensity of our connection with every thrust.

It didn't take me long to get used to the new sensation; my cries turned into moans, loud moans, my nails clawed at his back as he picked up his speed. "You're doing so well my love '." He kept on praising me as I clenched around his length.

“Good girl," . His thumb continued to circle my pulsing clit, sending electric shocks of pleasure through me. Mattheo buried his head in my neck, inhaling my scent as he listened to the rhythm of our bodies moving together. "God, you feel so good, like a fucking dream. I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against my skin, his words sending shivers down my spine.

As I looked down, the sight of our bodies connected together made me moan even louder. I couldn't help but notice the drips of blood on his dick as he moved, a stark reminder of our primal connection.

"I love you, Mattheo. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it, but I do love you more than life itself," I breathed out between heavy moans, my confession hanging in the air like a promise. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled him closer, desperate for more of him.

"Fucking hell, love, are you trying to kill me?" he sucked on my neck, pushing me over the edge for the second time that evening. The feeling exploded in my belly, my moans urging him closer to his own release. Still, I continued to clench around him, my body writhing with pleasure as he rode me through the bliss. His cock twitched inside of me, warmth spreading through me as he released himself inside of me.

I was on birth control pills my mother had made me take them since I turned eighteen, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming sensation of love and desire coursing through my veins.

“ Holy shit,Never thought I could love someone this much. What are you doing to me ?“

"Not even Astoria Greengrass?" I teased, unable to resist bringing that up .

"Don’t you dare bring another woman’s name up while my dick is still inside you," he retorted, his tone playful yet possessive.

I chuckled, cupping his face to kiss him passionately. His response was equally fervent, but a moan escaped my lips as I felt him getting out off me .

Surveying the aftermath, I couldn't help but feel a mix of pleasure and soreness. "I think I've lost my ability to walk," I joked.

"yeah ?" he teased back, laying down beside me. His fingers gently traced patterns in my hair as he leaned in to kiss my forehead with tenderness.

"I will never, ever do anything to hurt you again," he vowed softly.

Smiling softly, I whispered, "I know," before meeting his lips in another kiss.

He broke the kiss with a chuckle" I owes Enzo big time, huh? Best brother of the year?"

I laughed, feeling the exhaustion starting to set in.

"still ,but he'll pay for frightening you like that. Now, how about I take care of you first ?" I nodded, too tired to speak.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

BONUS SCENE.

We re-entered the castle, his hand never leaving mine. It wasn't a casual hold, but a tight clasp, his fingers weaving between mine like a declaration

Suddenly, Matteo stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise. Following his gaze, I spotted a familiar tall figure with kind eyes and a warm smile – Uncle Ben! My jaw dropped. What was he doing here?

“Look who it is! Isn't that my favorite niece?"

"Uncle Ben? What are you doing here?"

"Ah," he chuckled, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Professor Flitwick requested a little assistance with a... well, let's just say a certain magical artifact has gotten a bit out of sorts. Seems my expertise is needed to tame the beast, Thought I'd surprise you , and pop in to see how things are going at Hogwarts"

My jaw nearly hit the floor,how things are going at Hogwarts ? Well uncle…

“ this young man was keeping my company , Enzo, wasn't it?", his voice laced with amusement as he gestured towards Enzo.

"The one and only," Enzo confirmed with a wide grin, throwing in another wink for good measure.

My stomach lurched as Uncle Ben's gaze darted down to our hands, still subtly intertwined. The air crackled with sudden tension , his eyes darted from me to Mattheo, lingering a beat too long on the hand that still rested possessively on mine.

"Riddle Jr., isn't he?" he boomed, his jovial demeanor replaced with a mixture of surprise and something akin to panic.

My mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation. "Uncle Ben, it's —" I began, only to be cut off by his frantic question.

" you're not pregnant, right?" he blurted, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper.

My jaw dropped. Enzo choked on a laugh, shooting a helpless glance towards Mattheo, who seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

“you're holding hands! "

Enzo clapped Uncle Ben on the shoulder, his voice booming with forced cheer. "Come on, Ben! Let's not jump to conclusions. They're just kids, figuring things out."

My uncle's expression remained skeptical. He shifted his gaze to Matteo, a guarded look replacing the initial shock. " Riddle Jr. here," he began, his voice tight. "What exactly are your intentions towards y/n ?"

Matteo met Uncle Ben's gaze head-on, his posture unwavering. "Sir," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I deeply regret the way things ended between y/n and me. I know I hurt her, and for that, I'll never forgive myself. However, I care for her a great deal, and I would never do anything to intentionally cause her pain again." His eyes flickered to me briefly, a flicker of something warm passing between us. "All I want is a chance to prove myself worthy of her trust."

"Uncle Ben, I trust Mattheo. We'll take things slow, and I promise to be careful."

"Wow, you two look positively radiant. Blindingly so, actually. Sunglasses anyone?”enzo said wrapping his hands around my uncle shoulders.

Our synchronized eye rolls at his comment were enough to power the entire castle for a week. He held his hands up defensively, a playful grin plastered across his face while murmuring, "I'm still your brother, don't kill me," to Mattheo.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

Tag list :

@avee-wavee @lovelyygirl8 @lovelyypythoness @timmychalametsstuff @sage-ove

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Sasha, Melanie and Cel but is just Melanie making friends and trying to get them to kill Elias (alterbativally best ghost hunter trio).

Elias, Grizzop and Zolf but Elias is so busy going "what type of Peter Lukas is that and should I divorce him too" with Zolf he doesn't realize Grizzop killing him.

Martin and Wilde but is just Wilde way to elaborated excuses to not honestly review Martin's poetry and Martin's elaborated hidden tests around "is this an alternate historical figure or the Stranger being silly?".

Azu and Jon but is just cause Jon needs a hug and Azu is way to competent she could solve TMA with marbles, hugs and axes.

Hamid, Tim and TMA Sasha just cause I think they would be neat together. But mostly Hamid and Sasha research into danger zone repeatedly.

Bertie and Jurgen Leitner cause Leitner deserves to have to deal with Bertie and I think that Bertie would have a lot of underseved fun if he got eldrish permission to be openly fucked up and evil.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Disclaimer - I’m gonna try to keep to more mid-length emoji amounts to try to keep from overwhelming your inbox but if you’re wanting more asks of a specific size, let me know and I’ll come back with more!

Okay first theme is “Chimney and his brothers!” I’m loving both these stories and the exploration of these dynamics!! Chimney is such a fun character - of course because he’s hilarious but also because he’s so full of love for the people around him. I love reading about it!

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ (the plot is thickening and I am hooked!!! The crows are out to get Buck! Chim is gonna join the ranks of Buck’s captains who wish they could keep him wrapped in bubble wrap :p I’m so excited to learn more about the curse and how it involves Bertie! Also excited for the Hen-Chim drama to come to a head!)

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷 (I’m LOVING this Kevin chapter! It’s so wonderfully juicy! Everyone’s freaking out! As is their right! It’s also so good when Chim is missing Bobby when we know he’s back! Very curious if they’ll reveal Bobby to Chim earlier now that he’s experiencing the resurrections too. Can’t wait to see what’s next!)

- PCA <3

These are perfect lengths!! Thank you!!!

I try to work on one big request, and then take breaks to do smaller ones. So anything over 54 sentences, to me, is a big request. So 36 sentences are perfect.

Ah I love this theme! Writing Chim is so fun for me. I love him so much.

36 for ☠️ (Excited to slowly reveal all this! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

---

Shit. Shit. How does she know? Did Buck tell her what they’re actually doing? Why would he do that? They had an agreement!

“You know what’s going on with Buck,” Maddie says. “You’re just not telling me.”

Oh. Well… That’s easier to deal with. 

“It’s a secret!” Chim explains. Technically not a lie. “You know how I am with secrets!”

“I do,” she nods.

“So please, Maddie. Don’t push! I want to keep Buck’s confidence on this. It’s important.”

Maddie gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth.

“What?” Chim asks. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s proposing to Eddie,” Maddie says. “He’s proposing and he told you and not me?”

 “What?” Chim finds himself asking again. How did she get there?

“I mean, I figured it’d happen quick,” Maddie says. “They’ve been half-dating forever, before either of them knew it. But this quick?” 

Chim could correct her. Assure her this isn’t it. But… Doesn’t that run the risk of her not buying his half-baked lie?

---

36 for 🪷 (THANK YOU!!! Excited to share more!)

---

“You okay?” Maddie asks.

“Mhm,” Buck answers. In a way that very much suggests the opposite. “You?”

“Yeah,” she nods, in a similar manner.

Buckleys. 

Maddie steps away from Buck and looks at Bobby. She smiles. She doesn’t do the thing 

everyone else has done. She doesn’t look at him with a mix of horror and awe and tears. Well, she’s a bit teary. She’s Maddie, after all. But she seems steady. Like nothing about seeing him is unexpected or world shattering.

She prepared herself. Bobby is grateful.

“Hi, Bobby,” she says.

He smiles. 

“Hi, Maddie.”

“Can I give you a hug?” She asks.

He nods. “Of course.”

She walks forward to embrace him, and even her hug feels steadying. God, she came here to hold them all together, didn’t she? He’s never been especially close to Maddie. Not the way he is with her husband or brother. But she’s closer to him than the other returned people. Maddie isn’t here for the dead. She’s here for the living.

The children walk inside next. Jee hugs Buck right away. He kisses her on the forehead.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says. “Can you do me a huge favor today?”

“What is it?” She asks. 

“Can you keep Joze and Bertie occupied? They need someone responsible to watch them while we figure all this out.”

[imagrindylow]

You're Cute When You Scream

Percy Weasley / f!Reader 4.6k Words Content Warnings: 18+ Explicit content; halloween scariness, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, cmnf Summary: You take Percy on a spooky surprise date, for which he thanks you very kindly. A/N: 🎃👻🦇 Happy Halloween 🎃👻🦇 ~~~~~

You kept the nature of your date with Percy that evening a surprise, knowing that if you were to give him the details beforehand, he would have had all sorts of amplifying questions which would have resulted in him trying to back his way out of it. He would have had excuses on reserve – a stack of paperwork that ought not wait through the weekend to be delved into, or meeting talking points that could use another once over before Monday. And you'd have let him off the hook, too, giving in to those pretty ocean blue eyes of his far more often than you probably should. 

You knew he didn’t like surprises, either. They were rarely ever good things, or at least, he had been conditioned to believe as much throughout his childhood. Growing up, Fred and George often charged into his room with various ‘surprises’ for him. After the second time they’d gifted him a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans – each pre-licked and put back into the box with all of the good flavors removed – he stopped getting his hopes up when offered surprises. You were hell bent on changing his outlook on them, though, and you were making good progress, too. He had, after all, agreed to go along with your mysterious plan, whatever it was, and he apparated to your home Saturday evening as you’d asked him to. 

Percy knocked and stood on the stairs outside of your flat waiting for you to come to the door, fidgeting with the sleeves of his cable knit jumper. It was well loved and comfy, thick and warm, practical for the mid fall weather. But (one of) the problems with surprise dates was that he couldn’t be certain that he was dressed appropriately for the occasion. This was inherently stressful to him. Percy would forget this worry the moment you answered the door, however, the enthusiastic way you pulled him into an embrace at your every meeting reinforced the idea that the fact he’d agreed to come was more important to you than what he was wearing.

“Don’t you look festive,” Percy said with a little grin as he pulled back from the hug, loosening his hold on you just enough to get a good look at what you had on, his hands holding your forearms and giving them an affectionate squeeze.

You were in a black cardigan with small jack-o'-lanterns knit into the pattern on both pockets. He thought it was cute, if not a bit hokey. It looked like something his mother would have made. Was it? The woman was always knitting.

“That’s what I was going for,” you said with a huff of amusement, eyeing him up as well. 

“Oh?” He quirked his brow, his lips pulling into a crooked little smile. You’d been going for festive. That was a clue. The two of you were doing something for Halloween. He should have known, honestly, he knew you loved the holiday. There were pumpkins on the stairs leading to your door and an autumn wreath gently rustled as you shut the door behind him as he stepped through the threshold. “Will you tell me where you’re taking me?”

“You’ll see~” you said, eyes sweeping over his face with a mischievous and knowing grin. He could try to flirt information out of you all he liked, but he’d only find out when you got there.

The two of you didn’t make it much further into your home than the front hall before you took both of Percy’s hands and gave them that tight squeeze you always gave him when you were preparing to apparate. 

“I’m ready if you are,” you said.

“Ready. Don’t go splinching us now,” he cautioned. You could have repeated the line along with him. You had heard it as many times as you had apparated him. 

“Have I ever?” 

“No you haven’t, but you know I have to say it.” 

You hummed, acknowledging his need to wish for your safe travels, and kept a tight hold of his hands. You closed your eyes and focused, envisioning in your mind a secluded dirt road that led to a farm that your parents had taken you to every year as a young girl, for an annual Halloween festival of sorts. The memory of the place was nostalgic, yet so very clear in your mind, even though you hadn’t attended the festival in many years now. 

The two of you vanished with a crack and reappeared on that dirt road, an intentionally lengthy walk from the farm, a route that your parents had shown you long ago, to ensure you'd all be able to safely apparete without being noticed by any muggles. Percy didn't know this, however, and once you both steadied yourselves on the dirt and gravel, he was visibly confused. 

“I still don’t know what you’re up to,” Percy said, taking in his surroundings. The road was carved through heavy woods, and he could see farm buildings in the distance. Pumpkin picking, perhaps? It was his best guess, based on what he could make from where you’d taken him.

“Come on,” you said, keeping hold of one of his hands as you began to lead him towards the farm.

The road you walked was quiet, the only sounds around you being the gentle wind through the red-orange leaves on the trees on either side of the road, and the crunch of loose stone under your feet as you made your way. 

As you two got closer, however, you could hear lively voices, laughter, and occasional high pitched shrieks. At that, Percy gave you a sidelong glance, before shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a little huff of amusement.

He was confident to make a guess at your destination, at this point. “It’s a festival. It’s a Halloween festival, isn't it? Haunted mazes, costumed actors, store bought decorations, right?” Your wide grin and bright eyes were the only confirmation he needed. “Silly girl, you are.”

Something about him calling you a silly girl made you shiver. You were positive that it was his tone and not the autumn temperature. 

“It will be fun!” you insisted. “I haven’t been in ages, and I loved going when I was little. I wanted to share it with you.”

Percy could appreciate that you wanted to share something from your childhood with him, and he could tell right away that this was important to you. Knowing as much made his chest warm, despite the cool breeze. You had a way of pulling his heartstrings like that. He typically found the concept of these muggle-esque celebrations a bit contrived, but he supposed he could see the allure, even if he had to squint.

“You’re right. It will be fun,” he agreed, giving your hand a squeeze. 

Rounding a bend in the road, the two of you made your way through the entry gates and to a small booth where, well prepared with muggle money, you paid for your admissions to the farm's attractions. 

“You thought this through, I’m impressed,” Percy quipped, taking in the various decorations surveying the grounds around them. 

“Of course I did. You’ve so little faith in me, I’m wounded,” you teased right back.

The farm was sprawling and crowded, mostly with families with small children in tow, which made Percy feel out of place even though the two of you were not the only childless young adults among the masses. Percy was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the place, signage on wooden posts pointing in every direction towards different activities – a haunted hayride, a haunted corn maze, a haunted trail. He was detecting a theme here, but that wasn’t even the half of it. There were food stands, games, and other activities, most of which consisted of farm equipment being temporarily repurposed for children's entertainment. Little-ones were climbing stacks of hay bales, and playing on large overturned tractor tires. The buildings full of animals were yet another draw for the crowds, and everything from the fence posts to the buildings themselves seemed to be buried in a layer of string lights and various orange, black and purple Halloween decorations. 

Despite both you and Percy  being in your mid twenties, your childlike sense of wonder for the goofiest of things never ceased to put a smile on his face, and it was ever present as you pulled him first towards the hayride. He was glad for your general zest for life – he’d have been cemented in place with trepidation without you to help navigate him through the busy festival.

“Let’s start here,” you said, and kept hold of his hand as the two of you got into the queue, waiting for the wagon to finish its previous run.

Percy had never been on a hayride before – let alone a haunted one – and he hadn’t known what to expect despite the name being so very clear. The two of you climbed up and sat on bales of hay, in the bed of a large wooden wagon being towed behind a farm tractor, shoulder to shoulder with others – families, couples. The ride pulled you away from the farm and into nearby woods, the dense tree cover making the already setting sun seem even more dim, and providing a more fitting backdrop for the ‘haunted’ attraction.

He had such a hard time biting his tongue as the tractor drove past the first set of decorations along the trail through the woods, and he only did so for the sake of the families with children seated in the vicinity. 

A toy tractor with a plastic skeleton affixed to it? Really? 

He huffed out a laugh and gave you a sidelong glance and a subtle shake of his head. You knew it was silly, but it made you smile, and despite his sardonic reactions to the various props, you knew he wasn’t hating this. It showed in the way he held your hand tight and in the fond look on his face as he watched you enjoy yourself.

The ride was bumpy and went on for another fifteen minutes, past wooden cutouts of witches and ghosts, more plastic skeletons, and even inflatable cauldrons and black cats. Target audience be damned, there was a grin plastered on your face when you and Percy hopped down from the wagon when it came to a halt at the edge of the farm to drop you all off and pick up a new load of passengers. 

You waited with baited breath for the commentary Percy had been holding back throughout the ride. You’d been dating him long enough to just know it was coming, the words were practically overflowing from him as he leaned in close to speak to you as you steered him towards the festival's food offerings.

“Where do muggles get their concept of what ghosts look like?” he remarked. “You know what ghosts look like, and that was just offensive.”  

“I’m guessing the organizers just didn’t want to frighten the children.” 

“Were you frightened as a child when you first met Sir Nicholas? Or the Bloody Baron?” Percy asked, as though the question would drive home an irrefutable point. 

“Very much so, actually,” you said with a huff of amusement, recalling yourself as a girl of just eleven, seeing the ghostly entrails of Sir Nicholas’ neck on display as he greeted you and the other new first years over dinner on your very first day as a Hogwarts student. You’d lost your appetite.

Percy hmphed.

“When you grow up with those wooden ghost standees, the real thing is actually quite jarring,” you said, smirking at his little pout. He hated being proved wrong, but you’d take every opportunity to do as much when his stony face went all soft and thoughtful when you did.

“Come on, I need a snack,” you told him, walking together through the crowds until you found yourselves on the other end of the farm where various food and drink stalls were set up all in a row.

Settled at a picnic table, each of you with a styrofoam cup full of hot chocolate and a toffee apple, you chatted idly while people watching, noting how now that the sun had fully set and darkness settled over the farm, there were far fewer young children about the place. Older kids, teenagers, and young adults like yourselves had crowded into the queues of the surrounding more spooky attractions. Purple and orange string lights wrapped around the fence posts twinkled in the darkness, and eerie music played from speakers hidden around the decorations, adding to the more mature nighttime atmosphere of the festival.

“We ought to do the corn maze next, now that it’s dark out,” you suggested before taking a careful bite from your toffee apple, looking across the table at Percy with a teasing smile. “Should be more spooky than the hayride.”

“As long as you don’t think you’ll get too scared,” Percy said with his little smirk. If he was honest, he found the idea of you getting freaked out by some teenage scare actor in the maze quite amusing. He hoped to see it so he could act as your white knight. 

“I think I’ll manage. But if you need to, you can hide behind me and I’ll protect you.” Wishful thinking, she knew, but it was so fun to pick on him. 

The two of you took your time, enjoying each other's banter while finishing up your treats before queuing up for the maze. You stood in front of Percy, letting him rest his chin on your head with his arms around your middle, enjoying the bit of affection which he typically kept behind closed doors. 

The queue moved slowly, with the workers staggering entry to the maze to keep it from getting overcrowded inside, but after a while, you reached the front of the line and a worker – a man wearing a crude werewolf mask and a flannel button down – handed you a flashlight and ushered the two of you inside.

“Don’t even say anything,” you said quietly with a playful nudge and a gesture back in the workers direction. If he’d thought the muggle depiction of ghosts was offensive, he’d surely think their rendition of werewolves was downright criminal. You’d have to agree with him there. 

Percy snickered at that. “You know me so well,” he quipped, offering you his arm to hold as you clicked on the flashlight and began to navigate the maze together. 

If you had told Percy about corn mazes beforehand, he’d have questioned what could possibly be so scary about a corn field that it could garner such a queue as a haunted attraction, but as he experienced it first hand, he came to understand on his own. It was dark, and the flickery orangy beam from the flashlight did relatively little to light your way. The tall corn stalks filtered the light from the lamp posts around the farm into long swaying shadows over the rows you walked, and the rustling of the dry husks at every turn had each of  you questioning if it was really only the crop you were hearing. 

Keeping track of each turn the two of you made so that you wouldn’t get turned around, Percy was focused as you walked hand in hand through the maze. He told you all about the ‘right hand rule’ for solving mazes, and said that although it wouldn’t be the fastest way out, he assured you that the two of you wouldn’t get lost. You walked stiffly, anticipation in every step but especially as you rounded corners, knowing that at some point or another you’d be bound to run into scare actors. You liked a good jump scare, the thrill of uncertainty, but it did make you nervous, and you knew this brand of Percy’s rambling was in an effort to distract you from said nerves. It was appreciated. 

As the two of you made your way further into the maze you had the uncanny feeling that you were being followed. You’d turned to look over your shoulder several times as you followed Percy’s lead, keeping a tight grip on his hand as he led you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just missing catching a glimpse of someone, dark shadows and many path offshoots between the corn stalks giving plenty of opportunity for someone to hide just out of sight. 

Percy of course had the same feeling, but he seemed wholly unbothered. 

“You seem so tense, you know it’s just some kid who works here following us, just waiting for the perfect moment to hop out and say ‘boo,’” Percy said, as though his cool rationale of the situation made it less unnerving for you. 

“Well I wish they’d just do it already and get it over with.”

Percy tutted. “They’re going for suspense, and it’s clearly working on you,” he teased with a nudge of your shoulder and a squeeze of your hand. The way he looked down at you with that smirk of his, that playful gleam in his eyes, made you feel a bit better. 

But your conversation with Percy and the way he so easily distracted you also gave the scare actor, who had indeed been following mere paces behind the two of you, the perfect opportunity to strike. 

Getting in front of the two of you using a passage to your left that you’d passed right on by (staunchly following Percy’s strategy), a tall figure dressed as the most grotesque scarecrow imaginable stepped out from the shadows and onto the path just in front of you. 

The face of the figure was completely covered in a burlap sack affixed with rope to their neck, with distraught painted eyes and a bloody looking stitched over slash in the sack for a mouth. A far cry from the sheet ghosts and ill fitting rubber werewolf masks you’d encountered earlier, the scarecrow was truly something of a nightmare. 

There was no shouting “boo,” or saying anything for that matter. The figure hadn’t done anything besides simply appear in front of you, but you screamed, released both Percy’s hand and the flashlight, and darted startled in the opposite direction. Percy chuckled with an amused shake of his head and waved at the scare actor before picking up the flashlight and turning on his heels to search for you in the maze, calling out your name, unsure of the direction you’d ran. 

Your heart was racing, and a sense of both relief and embarrassment settled into your chest as you slowed your sprint and came to a stop in what you hoped was a truly vacant portion of the maze. That scarecrow had gotten you good. 

“Percy!” you cried out, turning around in place and trying to discern where his voice was coming from. “I’m over here!” 

“Where is over here?” Percy called, letting out a huff of laughter as he made another turn, still unable to find where you’d run off to amongst the rows of corn. “You shouldn’t have let go of my hand, you know!”

You groaned, not particularly needing to be scolded right now, even if you could tell from his voice that he was thoroughly amused with your reaction to the scare actor. “Gee, thanks! So helpful to be reminded of that after the fact!” you called out to him. You could hear him snickering and you jogged down the row you were in, towards the sound of his voice.

Finally, you could see the dull orange glow from his flashlight bouncing between the stalks of corn just a few rows over. “Stay where you are, I can see the flashlight!” 

“Alright, alright, come on then,” he said and waited for you, arms crossed. He could hear rustling and snapping of husks and suspected you were cheating and cutting through rows of corn rather than finding your way to him the fair way. 

His suspicions were confirmed when you climbed out from the corn stalks beside him, your hair getting caught in the leaves, and your cardigan with little bits of plant matter sticking to the yarn. Percy preened you, as you looked up at him with a satisfied little grin, glad to be back with your boyfriend. 

“Silly girl, and a cheat at that. You’re not supposed to plow through the rows like an erumpent,” he said as he pulled a bit of corn tassel from your hair. His hands settled on your waist after he brushed off your cardigan.

“Farm’s lucky I only pushed through a row or two and that I didn’t tear my way out of the maze entirely.”

Percy laughed, taking your hand once again and retracing his steps to get the two of you back on track to finish off the maze. 

“I suppose they are. You’re cute when you scream, you know? I’d like to take you back home and really give you something to scream about,” he teased.

Your face went red, cheeks heating up in the chilly evening breeze. You loved when Percy got brazen in the quiet moments when no one else could hear. “Maybe if we could ever find our way out of this maze.”

“Well… No one’s around. We could apparate out, yeah? If anyone hears the crack they’ll likely just assume it’s a sound effect.”

Percy was nothing if not thoroughly convincing.

Before giving him a chance to remind you not to splinch yourselves, you’d intertwined your fingers with his and in a whirring crack the flashlight clattered  flickering to the ground in the maze and you were standing on your front porch yet again, gripping each other a bit more tightly as each of you got your footing. Percy stepped forward against you, your back hitting your door and the back of your head cushioned by the wreath that hung there as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours, his knee between your legs keeping you in place.

You kissed him back, the sweet taste of toffee apples still on his tongue for you to enjoy. Through the clash of lips, you fiddled under your cardigan producing your wand from your hip, you unlocked your door, one of your hands twisting the knob open and the other gripping the loose fabric of his jumper as you led him backwards and into your flat. Large, lithe hands slid down your waist and gripped your hips, kneading the skin there and you felt your lower lip between his teeth before he pulled back from the kiss, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Percy Weasley catching his breath, dilated pupils with red, kiss swollen lips was always a damn sight, and you took the moment as he was collecting himself again to look him over like the artwork that he was. He chuckled softly under your intense gaze, it always shook him, the way you so clearly wanted him.

“Come on then, I trust I don’t have to help you find your way to the bedroom,” he said, ever confident with the way you looked at him like you’d eat him if you could. 

“No, no I think I know the way in this case, thank you though,” you said and grinned, turning your back to him as you pulled him by the hand to your room. He pulled the door closed behind you.

Percy always undressed you slowly, and tonight was no different. He took his time with each button on your cardigan, and laid it neatly over the back of an armchair in your room. (If he tossed it on the floor the yarn might snag on something and that wouldn’t do.) Your other clothing, however, was fair game, and he didn’t pay attention to where your undershirt ended up, he simply removed it before guiding your back to lay flat on your bed, and he took your legs in his hands as he pulled off your boots and tugged down your pants. 

He took an odd sort of pleasure in being fully clothed while you were nearly naked. He was calm and collected as you laid there in anticipation for a pleasure only he could bring you. It always made him feel powerful. He removed only his shoes before climbing over you on your bed (he was polite, after all) and his lips met your jaw with open mouth kisses while his hands roamed along your chest and slid behind your back to unclasp your bra. He guided your arms out of the garment before tossing it over his shoulder with a smirk. 

“Beautiful,” he said, his eyes roving your skin. His fingers slid under the elastic of your panties and he pulled them down and off before continuing. “The way you were calling out my name when you’d gotten yourself lost in that maze… I want to hear it again. This time you’ll be lost in me.” He took off his glasses and set them on your bedside table.

You hummed and nodded, sinking into the blankets beneath you as Percy kissed along your navel before parting your legs and dipping his head between your thighs, drawing expletives from your lips as his tongue ran along your heat. Your fingers delved into his tousle of curls, giving them an appreciative tug as you flex your hips against his mouth, but you weren’t crying out for him just yet.

Meticulously, he worked you over with his tongue until your thighs trembled against his face and your back arched up from the mattress, your fingers digging into your bedding,  trying to stay grounded as he sunk two fingers into your core. Beckoning you closer to the edge with the curl of his digits,  your mouth hung open and those pretty, breathy whines flowed from your lips, you were truly getting lost in him and the hot pleasure he was bringing upon you. You held off for as long as you could, wanting to take every last second of paradise he was offering you before you finally obliged him, calling out his name as that pleasure crested and you came for him. He pulled his face away, raising himself on his elbows so he could get a good look at your face, his fingers still working you through it until your hand met his wrist with a tug and a breathy cry.

“Had enough, then?” he asked you, his voice soft and even as you trembled after coming apart. He crawled up your mattress and laid down alongside you, his arm laying over your stomach, giving your side a loving little squeeze. The soft wool of his jumper tickled against your bare skin.

“More than enough, for now,” you said and nodded, body finally starting to calm down but your breath still shuddered. 

“Mm, I’m glad,” he murmured and leaned in to kiss your face. He’d do his best to ignore the aching want in his trousers for now, wanting these precious moments to be all about you. He’d get his in the morning.

You soaked in his gentle affections while you finished coming down, tired now and ready for sleep. You turned to your side to face him, and nuzzled your nose to his with a satisfied grin. “I’d have brought you to a Halloween fair years ago if I had known that would be my thanks.”

[blue-jisungs]

after watching soobin's ig post i want someone to write a soobin hogwarts au

and I'd be so glad if that someone was you 😋

vanilla&citrus / coffe&lavender

author's note. OKAAY SLAY?? thank u sm hehe it means a lot !! i feel honoured 😌😌

au. hogwarts, duh + idiot best friends to lovers, mutual pinning🫡 + i wrote it with intention of ravenclaw reader but it’s never really mentioned so it can be read as any house reader ^_^

summary. you’re friends with soobin, a friendly but a bit confused hufflepuff ever since you stepped a foot in hogwarts. while trying to figure out what did he smell in an amortentia potion, he discovers he likes someone.

word count. +- 2127

you were sitting on the bench, next to taehyun, deep in your lecture. munching on some bertie bott’s flavour beans. the sound of beomgyu and yeonjun’s screams and screeches filling the peaceful silence.

“don’t eat this one” taehyun murmured when you grabbed a random bean. you shot him a curious look “we’ll leave it to soobin”

“how do you know it’s a bad taste?” you scoffed and looked up, looking at the gryffindor boy screaming and chasing after yeonjun for no reason.

“a gut feeling” he shrugged and his big eyes sparkled “kai and soobin are coming”

you looked down from the stands and noticed your friends entering the quidditch field. they looked so tiny from up here, like bowtruckles.

you managed to finish a chapter before they arrived to the top, where you were sitting. soobin was panting, cheeks flushed.

“why do you always have to pick the seat at the very top? there’s so much stairs” he grunted and sat next to you. you looked up and noticed his black and yellow tie was all over the place, loosened up and mere moments from untangling. you sighed and leaned forwards him, swiftly fixing it.

kai grinned, whereas your ravenclaw friend just rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“thanks. oh, beans! which lesson do we have next?” soobin smiled softly and leaned over, his head brushing against your shoulder as he picked a bunch of beans.

“potions” you hummed and exchanged amused looks with taehyun. bad flavour incoming in 3… 2…

“ugh i hate potions” soobin sighed and popped a couple of sweets into his mouth. you looked into his eyes as he leaned away. he chewed on them, nose scrunching up.

beomgyu and yeonjun flew up to you when suddenly soobin spat out the beans.

“ew!”

you all started laughing, the hufflepuff trying to get rid of the awful taste in his mouth. you patted his back in a comforting manner.

“poor soobin” you hummed and leaned your head on soobin’s, trying to hold your laugh. taehyun snickered, whispering something to kai.

being this close was nothing new, you and soobin constantly hugged and physical contact was common in your friendship. you could smell his hair, vanilla overtaking your nostrils. it sounded weird but you liked soobin’s smell – his hair usually smelled like vanilla but his skin was citrusy. maybe it was because of all the lemon tarts he loved so much or maybe because of the amount of citrus trees and plants in hufflepuff dorm.

“don’t tell me you plotted this! y/n!” he whined and smacked your arm.

“sorry!” you giggled and soobin scoffed. he didn’t mind, as long as he got to hear your cute laugh.

kai cleared his throat and stood up.

“can we go?”

“oh. sure!” soobin smiled, standing up gently too not to hurt you accidentally.

“need a ride, ma’am?” beomgyu offered you in a dramatically deep voice, chivalric manner.

soobin pouted and reached his hand out, to help you stand up.

“uh, no… i think i’ll pass” you smiled politely and grabbed soobin’s hand. not letting it go, you started walking down from the stands as yeonjun and beomgyu raced on their brooms.

you stared at the cauldron, heart thumping in your chest like crazy. snape gestured to come closer.

“so, um. what is it? i kinda spaced out” soobin nudged your arm, causing you to jerk in surprise.

“amortentia, mr choi” snape grunted, his gaze shifting to you and piercing your soul. it’s almost as if he knew “miss l/n, could you care to repeat to your friend what i just said?”

“well it’s a love potion, basically. the most powerful in the world. it causes a obsession in the drinker, for example for the first person they see after drinking it. and um… its smell is different for each person because it will have a scent like a thing… or a person you like” you mumbled shyly. the potions professor nodded.

“correct. we won’t be learning how to brew it yet but i want you all to take a whiff. what do you smell?”

the rest of the lesson passed with people sniffing the pearly-shining potion. when it was your turn, you weren’t surprised to find out it was citrusy, with a scent of vanilla. maybe a bit of caramel too? but it left no doubt that it was soobin.

beomgyu whined when you wouldn’t tell them and carried on about smelling chocolate and cologne – something that apparently smelled like himself. it did not, in fact. the closest beomgyu smelled like is grass and rain from all those days spent on a quidditch pitch. and smoke from setting things on fire.

“what about you, soobin?”

the hufflepuff boy shook his head.

“i don’t… i don’t know” he whined, adorable pout forming on his lips.

“what do you mean you don’t know?” yeonjun laughed, patting his back.

“it smells familiar but somehow i don’t recall it? i can smell coffee for sure but other than that… i don’t know” he huffed, crossing his arms.

your lips parted. is there someone soobin likes?

you send him a soft smile, trying to look amused. only taehyun could read the sadness glinting in your eyes.

soobin was miserable. all he could think of is why the scent of amortentia was so similar? the only smell he recognised was coffee because, hello, it’s coffee. everyone drinks it!

it’s not like he didn’t know the other fragrances. he knew he knew what are those but just couldn’t recognise them and separate from the strong coffee smell. it was almost like a word that you have on the tip of your tongue.

he sighed and entered the library, hoping to find you. he had enough of the boys’ loud chatter and awful jokes, he needed some peace and quiet. which you were. and with you, he could always allow himself to loosen up and be himself – even without speaking a word.

he noticed you’ve been acting weird too; you also didn’t tell them what you smelled. he brushed it off, guessing you just probably didn’t smell a thing and didn’t want to admit it.

walking further into the quiet room, already spotting you at one of the tables, he took a deep breath. he liked this smell, of books and leathers.

“hi” he mumbled, plopping down next to you. you hummed in acknowledgment he’s here.

“smelled anything similar today?” you asked, a bit tauntingly. ever since that potions lesson, he’d go and sniff around everything and everyone like a dog.

“no…” soobin’s voice died in his throat when you placed a book next to him. he sniffed it and his eyes went wide. that’s it.

you looked at him, amused. he opened the book and took a whiff of the old pages.

“that’s… this! this is the–“ the hufflepuff boy yelped in excitement, causing you to move a hand to cover his mouth. blush dusted his cheeks in embarrassment (and maybe because of the prolixity).

“that’s a nice smell, i have to agree. one of the reasons why i like spending time in the library” you hummed, taking your hand back. he liked it too.

“there is still something missing, though” he sighed, watching you use the dried lavender flower as a bookmark.

“so coffee, books and something else?” taehyun asks, playful smile dancing on his lips. obviously it’s you. anyone would have known that – not even because of the ridiculously well known fact you are addicted to coffee and spend half of your life in library. but also because you and soobin are so painfully blind to the fact that you have crushes on each other. the way your hands brush, the way you blush when soobin compliments you, the way he stutters when you fix his tie… so on, so on.

anybody, apparently, except soobin.

“it’s driving me insane” the hufflepuff boy whined and smacked his books against his forehead. taehyun was curious what’s the smell, though. something connected to your shampoo? or perfume? or something completely different?

“where’s y/n, by the way?” soobin asked, blinking slowly.

“she went to pick some flowers and give them to hagrid” taehyun hummed, recalling your excitement this morning. “should we go find her? maybe the rest is there”

soobin nodded eagerly and they went into the direction of hagrid’s hut. they could spot you, rummaging through purple flowers. taehyun said he’ll go straight to the keeper, to ask him for some tea. soobin called you and started going your way.

as he got closer, a pleasant smell filled his nostrils. the purple flowers tickled his legs, he placed his steps careful not to destroy them.

“oh, soobin! hi” you breathed out and turned around, a full bouquet of hand picked lavenders in your hands. your smile was so bright that it outshined the sun behind you and that’s when it hit him.

lavender. that was the smell.

“–because it smells horribly in his hut, seriously. so it’s kind of a cover to sneak some flowers, especially those since their scent–“ you babbled, reassuming to pick the flowers.

so coffee, books and lavender. it’s funny, now that he thought about it.

you like coffee. he remembered the time when he visited you during summer and since your family enjoys the warm liquid too, you had some coffee beans in the kitchen. you popped one or two into your mouth and laughed at his disgusted face. while offering him to do the same and handing him the beans, all he could remember was the delicious smell lingering in the kitchen.

and the books too! he realised it when he was in the library… with you.

and now lavender. which you also said is your favourite flower. duh, you even use a dried one that he picked for you as a bookmark–

oh.

oh.

“–bin?” you asked, the hufflepuff boy’s eyes going wide almost as if he saw an acromantula.

“you” he breathed out, blinking slowly

“yeah?” you frowned, tilting your head. he definitely didn’t listen.

“it’s you!” soobin gasped, leaving you flabbergasted.

“soob, is it about the beans thing? i’m sorry i left you all the bad flavoured ones but taehyun just has this seventh sense when it comes to the bad ones and we thought–“ you started and soobin suddenly stepped closer, taking a sharp and deep inhale “huh?”

“it’s definitely you. i smelled vanilla and coffee in amortentia. and books too but it wasn’t that strong so… i didn’t figure it out at first” he said, pink dusting his cheeks. you almost dropped all the flowers.

“you smelled me in amortentia?” you asked, throat going dry. if he smelled you then that means… he likes you?

“yeah, i guess! weird, huh?” he giggled, scratching his neck. slowly his smile dropped, almost audible gears turning in his head

“wha… soobin” you stepped closer, heart thumping so hard against your ribcage you thought it may jump out any second.

“y/n” he said goofily, eyes pacing around nervously. everywhere but your eyes.

“soobin, does that mean you like me?” you asked, noticing taehyun and hagrid in the distance.

“well, i like you so…” he shrugged.

“soobin”

it was more stern this time so he looked up, noticing your flustered cheeks and anxious gaze.

“i think? maybe? i never knew! i always prefer to be with you than with the guys, you’re so sweet and funny. and so smart it’s driving me crazy… and beautiful too but… it would be kinda awkward, wouldn’t it?” he started rambling when you suddenly grabbed his hand.

“soob, you dork. i smelled you in amortentia too. but the difference is that i have a crush on you for a while now. and you are driving me crazy too! with your stupid dimples and how clueless you are… and with your pretty eyes and…” you stopped, looking how his eyes widened even more “soobin?”

“you. you have a crush on me?” he stuttered, pointing at himself. as if there was another choi soobin.

“yes” you laughed, letting go of his hand. “if you don’t want anything happening between us, i’ll understand”

“are you crazy?!” he yelled out, causing you to frown “i could never ever dream of even going out with you and you think i’d deny it?”

“well…” you chuckled nervously. soobin stepped closer and placed a quick, shy peck on your lips. freezing in shock, you tightened the grip on the lavenders. the aroma of citrus and vanilla filled your nostrils pleasantly.

he pulled away, blinking in awe. he just did that.

“i… i wanna be yours. but please for the love of merlin, don’t feed me the bad flavoured beans” the hufflepuff boy mumbled, causing you to laugh out loud. oh, soobin.

masterlist <3

taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang ,, @vnsux ,, @weird-bookworm

[mytwokidbrothers]

wait okay gerbert intox noncon .....

gerbert where theyre not fucking but everyone thinks they are. gerbert where they kissed for the first time in chicago, giggly-drunk and high, the kind of kiss where they just keep bumping faces, laughing, and then doing it again. floating on a fucking cloud. it's not love it's just fun and it feels good, only a little tongue, only g's hand sliding down bert's chest, solid hot and not enough. they pull away and laugh. they fall asleep entwined and bert wakes up first, stares at the ceiling, feels gerard on top of him, snoring and drooling onto his chest. starts to wonder.

it becomes a regular thing to sit with their ankles crossed while watching movies, to hold hands while waiting for their stageslots on warped, and everyone starts to notice because it'd be pretty fucking hard not to. g finds some harder shit and they spend a few nights seriously tripping, all over each other, but they're still not fucking. what theyre doing still can't even be called 'messing around,' not really, the furthest theyve gotten was g's hand cupping berts dick over his cargo shorts, kind of holding his balls, and that. was still kind of nothing. but bert's started to catalogue their touches, what they do and don't do, the lines they have and haven't crossed. hes becoming obsessed with the point in the high where g's face just sort of melts, his eyes sparkling and pupils blown so wide he looks like a cat in the dark, and he only really looks like that when he's looking at bert.

everyone starts to notice because there's not a hint of privacy on warped. privacy is a far off ideal, a concept as speculative and metaphysical as god. bert's not getting laid, but everyone seems to think he is. it's getting hard to play both sides of this- the sexdrunk fool with gerard's hand in his, the friend who's there just to get high, everything is blurry and bert's vision is often tilting from the drugs and the desire thrumming through him. more. more.

on warped, there's not so much a thing as sober, and g's alcohol-warm body coils around his nearly every night, breathing beer breath into his neck with a surprise hug and lift from behind, a stage-whispered "did you get the shit, berty?" and bert's well-rehersed reply of "yes sweetheart, the good shit, only the best for you" and it's impossible to know how much gerard's joking, even how much bert is. but that night, when they're alone on the bus, g kisses him and bert slides a hand up his back, yes, yes, closer, but g pulls away with a giggle and pushes bert's hand off to hold it instead, press a little kiss onto his thumb. he won't let him do anything more.

but bert wants. it's driving him mad. the drugs lose their high when all bert's wanting is g's dick, his tight ass, his body sprawled and wanting underneath him, soft skin giving, sweatslick and sighing. he wants to catapult over the lines they've drawn in the sand. he wants gerard, pliant, face-down, ass-up, his world has narrowed down to needing g, needing to fuck him, needing it so bad that the slightest brush of g's hand against his arm is enough to hurl him into wetdream fantasies (body sprawled and wanting underneath him), the sound of g's distant giggle enough to make bert hard as a rock in his pants (sweatslick and sighing). fantasy's not enough. the kisses and the playground love, it's not enough. bert's a grown ass man. gerard is sometimes a playful little waif, sometimes a fiend from hell, tormenting him with teasing touches and knowing looks and flirting that never fucking goes anywhere.

bert can't take it anymore. he'd never thought it'd come to this, one night with the cicadaes screaming in the bushes, the night like a humid curtain, and the two of them as alone as they'll get. bert got harder shit, got borderline illegal shit, and he didn't read the doses before dumping it into the beer he gave to g with his regular, devious little smile. and g kissed his cheek as he took it, so fucking clueless, laughing about something into bert's hair.

and now they're here and g's starting to feel it. he doesn't seem to notice his beer is in danger of spilling down his shirt, his grip on it gone lax, and bert doesn't tell him. he just keeps talking about whatever mundane shit he's been pretending to care about all night sitting on this ratty tour bus couch as g nods and begins to nod off, grinning vaguely at something that's not funny, his eyelashes starting to droop. he doesn't react when bert stands, crosses the floor of the tiny room in two strides, to push the lock down on the door. if anyone finds the door locked, they'll assume, for once, correctly about what's happening inside, and fucking leave. no one is gonna break in. no one's coming to help.

[holderoftheg-r-a-i-l]

giant mechs hc dump under the cut. some are silly, and some are. very sad.

- some times someone will ask Ivy a question and instead of her voice they get a text-to-speech voice because the info is from a data download instead of her reading it

- Jonny sleeps with a weighted blanket. if he is sleeping in the same bed with someone, they will usually roll him up in the weighted blanket because if they do not, they will get kicked in the face from his flailing

- Marius spends a lot of time in the cockpit with Brian. Partially because he's fascinated with the control panels (he only knows what a few of the buttons do) but also because Brian tends to hum while he drives and it's calming.

- Raph keeps a catelogue of plants & substances from every system they visit. Ivy helps her categorize them. when they leave a system often the two of them can be exclusively found in the labs or library for several days as they sort & label plants, drugs, ect

- Tim has spent a lot of time studying whatever notes he can cipher out of Dr Carmilla's works. he spends a lot of time tinkering to try to create more mechanisms. he blames himself for Berties death since he convinced him to enlist, and even though bertie is long dead he still wants to learn to build a Mechanism, just to prove to himself he could have saved him if he had time

- Marius absolutely will hand someone his arm if they ask for a "hand" with something. this has ended in him getting shot more than once

- Jonny enjoys laying his head on Brian and listening to his heart beat, imagining it's his own. He has sworn Brian to secrecy (everyone already knows)

- occasionally ivy's brain will crash and she has to reboot. originally this freaked out the others but they're used to it. they will fuck with her while she's out of it. once a reboot took several hours and she woke up and every inch of her face was covered in stickers

- in order from best cooks to worst- ivy, Nastya, Marius, Raphealla, TS, Brian, Jonny, ashes, Tim.

- ashes & Tim are both natural heaters and are usually in the middle of a cuddle pile on colder planets

- Brian doesn't technically need to breathe and enjoys walking on the bottom of deep bodies of water to see the creatures below. he does have to make sure he gets all of the salt water off so he doesn't rust tho

- no one is letting the toy soldier back into the aurora, it just exists where it believes it should (because it's needed, narratively important, or because it believes it will be funny). only aurora knows this, the others believe they keep accidentally letting it back in. this also means toy solider is *incredibly* good at startling others by just appearing in corners or behind doors.

- Jonny is missing the finger prints on one of his fingers from a bar fight, where he narrowly missed losing the whole finger.

- Tim has some knee damage from living in the tunnels during the moon war and while the mechnaizing has helped some, occasionally uses a cane

- Ashes has nerve damage in thier lower limbs from the flame damage

- Marius sometimes gets phantom pains from his missing arm

- somwtimes Brian turns all of his sensors up because he forgets what feeling actually alive feels like. his processor has limited ability to process things like warmth or pain so they just feel like echos of the real thing. he gets jealous sometimes of the others. everyone else can *feel* thier hugs. he's even jealous of TS. it can't feel like him, but it also doesn't remember what it felt like before. he's even jealous of the others feeling pain because at least it's more than just dull flashes that thier brain attempts to imitate as feeling

- ashes is Brian's favorite to touch/hug/cuddle with purely because they run hotter so it's easier for his sensors to pick up the temperature difference (so it feels the closest to hugging did before mechanizing)

- Brian hates the zero grav zones on the aurora & avoids them if at all possible because they remind him of his time before mechanizing (aurora knows this and will shuffle corridors around if she knows where he is going to avoid low grav areas)

- sometimes Tim will just. turn off the sensors in his eyes for a bit. usually when he's over stimulated. sometimes when he's tinkering on something he knows well and someone keeps bothering him. sometimes it's because someone keeps trying to get his attention and "sorry I didn't see you my eyes were off" is hilarious

[spiritundaunted]

December 10, 1936, Edward VIII abdicates and Bertie becomes King George VI. He looks pretty traumatized.

[rebeccasteventaylor]

Magnus Archives 16! Spoilers below!

Oh, poor Alice. Who’s hugging her? According to the transcript it’s just Celia and there’s comforting stillness (I dunno, sounded more FABRIC RUSTLES to me)

Who did Alice and Sam see die? Did I miss that? Is that something we know? And Celia doesn’t even ask about it as anyone else would so - she knows…

Poor Alice seems so badly shaken, so in need of comfort and protection - I hope she stays safe (as every other character in Magnus who needs comfort and protection stays safe. Nothing bad ever happens to them EVER).

‘I paid my horror dues working here’ damn, Alice knows she is in a horror…and hoped the OIAR would keep her safe.

Bad joke Sam. Very bad joke.

Oh! Oh! A voice for Ink5oul!

Oh my god, Madam Electrum is the worst kind of influencer - totally up her own arse, talks in hashtags and slang she only half understands.

And no, she’s not a proper Goth.

She was DMing Ink5oul? She thought they were friends - even more?

Highgate cemetery? Bit - cliched, isn’t it? And it’s patrolled at night. I know more private cemeteries in London (i absolutely do not hang around in cemeteries after dark. Uh-uh. No way. You’ll never catch me doing something so deliciously dark and forbidden…)

‘Don’t make me break your heart’ ooh, good line…

So - Ink5oul gets ideas from bodies, like the one in Marked?

Look, Madam E, you try to dig into Ink5oul secret, tell everything online, chicken out of the real goth stuff and then mock them online and you’re surprised Ink5oul made a callout video?

What’s the tattoo over her heart? Bees stinging her on her heart over and over again - that sounds like a tattoo needle digging deep..

Sounds like Ink5oul has followers to do their dirty work for them (glad the cats are ok)

‘I just wanted to be noticed’ oh, that’s real. That’s such a cry for help.

And that was Alice listening - Alice who also laughs loud and makes jokes and does everything to draw attention to herself - wanting to be noticed. Wanting to be loved - but everyone leaves her in the end.

Lena is so furious at Gwen bringing Lady Mowbray in! ‘You introduced her to your colleagues! That poses a completely unacceptable risk to your colleagues’

Wait - Lena is worried about the others? Lena wants to protect the others? Lena is trying to make sure they’re safe? Excuse me a second while I readjust all my opinions of Lena. (Maybe that why she couldn’t murder Klaus - not because she was incompetent but because she didn’t want to)

Oh, Gwen. Why didn’t you realise Lady Mowbray is dangerous? I’m rooting for you Gwen, but honestly. This is the kind of behaviour I would expect from the Bouchards of Cheshire - the kind of aristocracy who say ‘Bertie’s a lovely chap, no-one kinder, once beat his valet to death with a shoe but you can’t hold that against him, he’s a sweetie really’

I mean, Gwen is right. Lena is keeping secrets and not training her but now I wonder if she was hoping Gwen could fail so she had a reason not to send her to the Externals - that she was trying to protect Gwen and and all the others?

Ooh, I have a new theory - I already thought Alice was trying to protect everyone and she is trying very hard not to know the horrors. What if Lena is also trying to protect everyone by being the only one who knows all the horrors?

I need more Lena. Right now.

I need someone to love and protect Alice.

Don’t let me down, Gwen

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

Thoughts about Sinsmas

Well, I was right. Stolas got more called out than ever but Blitz immediately swooped in to comfort him and take care of him, like he did throughout the entire episode. Even though literally the only thing Stolas ever thanks Blitzo for is saving his life. Not cooking him every bit of breakfast food they had so that Stolas could still eat something, not giving Stolas a job to ensure he still has money of his own, getting Stolas whatever he wants and even resorting to stealing it to make sure he gets it... Seriously, Stolas is repeatedly called the nice guy. Well, wouldn't nice guys not seem so judgmental about their host's graciousness and actually thank them for everything they've done? But no, Stolas only took note of saving his life so he highly likely thinks that it's the only thing that counts. Seriously, that damn bird is seeming more and more to me like my mother's side of the family. They say things like 'we're trying to take care of you' or 'call us any time' but then they turn around and do shit like badmouth my dad and obviously act like he doesn't count as my dad just because we're not related by blood (he's the actual dad of some of my brothers so that's why we still see each other, if this explanation is actually needed). Oh, geez, my grandmother especially hated that I called Dad 'dad' and she insisted - yelled, even if we semi-separated via sitting in a car - that my real dad is the same guy who tried telling me that caring about the brothers who aren't biologically his sons is solely Mom's job. (Okay, that's not his exact words, but that was the gist of what my birth father was saying).

But yeah, Stolas is reminding me more of my mom's side of the family because any 'love' I get from them is lip service. Anything good I get from them is material items that they bother giving me because they're obligated to or because they hope to butter me up for something they want from me. They've proven time and time again that they'll care more about themselves than they ever will me. Well, I still can't think of much that Stolas has done to show that he loves Octavia. Literally the list of things he's done is hug his daughter whenever she's distressed and I guess warn Striker to not go after Octavia after he implied a threat to her, even if that was the only time that Stolas thought about her during Western Energy. Also, at this point, I'm not liking how it's seeming that all the good times that Octavia has had with Stolas is just when she's a little little girl, like she's not even ten yet, by the looks of it. What about that guitar that Octavia plays in Sinsmas? Other than wanting to see Octavia play that instrument in the background earlier in the show, I can see on the back that it says 'Love Dad'. What, can't we see a time of Stolas gifting that to her, when she's bound to be older than ten? Couldn't we get any memories of good times when Octavia's over ten?

Speaking of Octavia, I thought of an episode of Invincible Fight Girl when Blitz said that Octavia will 'come around'. (God, I hate that saying ever since one of my uncles said it). But for anyone who doesn't watch the show or know about it, Invincible Fight Girl is about a girl who wants to be a wrestler. She lives in a whole world full of them, I guess like Mucha Lucha but unmasked. There's this famous retired wrestler, the girl wants the retired wrestler to be her mentor, and the would-be mentor sets up a goal to master a move called 'The Perfect Strike'. Well, the main characters go to a worn down town for any leads on accomplishing it and they meet a girl named Bertie.

Bertie wanted to take everything away from her parents so that they have nothing left to focus on but her, because apparently the parents got defeated in a match by the retired wrestler by the Perfect Strike. The parents were so devastated by the loss that they obsessed over it, thought they made a discovery to help master the move that defeated them, but divorced when they didn't see eye to eye. What's more, the divorced parents spent at least ten years having an ongoing war with each other over their differing opinions. Bertie has an ability to hulk out and she definitely did due to her anger over being neglected so heavily that she's practically abandoned.

The show has narration from time to time so there was this one line. 'Where understanding failed, hatred blossomed'. That line was aimed at Bertie failing to understand her parents focusing on wrestling far more than they did her. As in, it sounds like to me that Bertie's supposed to be understanding of being left alone all the time ever since she was a kid. Over wrestling and her parents having lost a match. Naturally, I thought of Bertie's overall situation when that line came up and I thought 'what is there to understand?'

So what's there for Octavia to understand? About Stolas frequently choosing Blitz over her, taking his time remembering she exists, and, as far as the show has actually shown me, mostly just expresses his love through saying that he loves her? Not to mention, it feels like Octavia 'has' to understand her father breaking his promise and leaving her behind like she was afraid of. Bertie and Octavia 'has' to accept having been hurt because their parents are more important

Well, screw that

(Also, I couldn't fit this in anywhere without breaking the flow, but I'm even getting tired of Stella now, definitely of Andrealphlus. Seriously, Andrea is just gay guy Stella at this point, especially since it's taken two whole seasons for Stella to ever directly talk to her own daughter on screen. Can Stella be obsessed with bathroom decorations or something? It'll be doing something that isn't laughing at Stolas's misery or being pissed off at Stolas's existence. Fuck, it'll be something outside of Stola's influence in the fucking first place. I still love Stella, definitely more than I ever will Stolas, but just have Stella do or be anything other than a Stolas hater, PLEASE!)

(Another thing I just remembered, I personally would have liked it if the client had green hair. I mean, there's already spikes on her hair like thorns and she has tree bark antlers and it is Christmas where she used to be when alive. So why not make her hair and shirt collar - which look like leaves - green? Then we would still look at her face thanks to her eyes being one of the few traces of bright red to her design and her green colors would help her stand out more from the red background)

[impossibleblizzardstudentposts]

Rematch - Part I

I’ve had this little story bouncing around in my head for months now, and finally put together an outline. Feedback sincerely appreciated, as I haven’t written in years, and never for TGM.

Rooster x OC Rebekah Rooney (Bob’s SIL)

“UNCLE BERTIE!“ an excited child’s exclamation rings out in the relative quiet of a weekday afternoon bar crowd.

Lt. Floyd turns around expectantly in the direction of the voice and smiles. He would worry about the implications of everyone calling him ‘Bertie’ later. A small girl, who couldn’t possibly have reached double digits in age, has broken away from her guardian and is now running toward Bob’s group of colleagues. 

“Row, Row, Row Your Boat!” 

Instead of crouching down to meet the girl in a hug, the pair immediately engages in an elaborate secret handshake that matches their silly nicknames. 

“Wow, you two are better than ‘The Parent Trap’!” laughs Natasha, as the rest of their crowd applauds, mostly for the child’s benefit, but also for the obvious joy brought to their friend.

The Daggers were in need of some joy. Though only recently formed, the group had been to hell and back on a nearly impossible mission. Their reward for all making it back in one piece had been some time off around the holidays, which is exactly what brought these foreign guests to The Hard Deck. 

Bob blushes, standing back up to his full height, and clears his throat as he comes to terms with having momentarily been the center of attention. “My niece” he explains, gesturing to the girl. “Rowan”

Luckily, another voice joins them and he is spared having to speak further. “And his dreaded sister in law” says the woman from whom Rowan had just broken free in her excitement, with a curtsy and a joking smile. Rebekah never struggled with speaking up in a crowd the way Bob did. She had the charisma and confidence of someone who’d been on a Broadway stage, because, well, she had. 

Polite introductions begin back and forth, but Bradley’s eyes stay fixed on the new woman and his mind wanders.

“Natasha”

Hand shake.

“Rebekah”

She’s beautiful. That smile.

“Callie”

Wave.

“Rebekah”

Sexy, really. That hair. 

“Mickey”

Wink.

“Rebekah”

She’s familiar. Why is she so familiar?

“Bradley…Bradley…Bradshaw!” Nat nudges her spaced out friend and uses her eyes to draw his attention to the extended hand he had left hanging for longer than acceptable. He quickly takes the hand, dwarfing it in his own, and offers a lopsided grin. 

“Bradley?” she confirms, with a smirk, as they lock eyes. 

“Yes ma’am”

“I’m Rebekah. Bob’s sister in law. Nice to meet you.”

Holy shit. In their moment of close proximity, a whiff of her perfume acts like a key, unlocking Bradley’s memories from New York Fleet Week. It was earlier this year, but it seems like another lifetime. Before Maverick’s return, before Iceman’s death, before the uranium mission. She was there.

As Bradley was sorting this all out in his head, the group has scattered a bit. Bob is taking his family’s luggage to his car. Halo and Fanboy have started a game of pool. Phoenix has helped Rowan onto a bar stool, her light up sneakers dangling, reaching not even halfway to the floor. She is anxiously awaiting a Shirley Temple with seven cherries pleaseandthankyou. Bradley guesses that must be her age. He is further shaken from his thoughts when he hears Rebekah’s voice again. 

“Where’s the restroom?”

“I’ll show you.” Bradley and Nat say at the same time. 

Nat gives him a crooked look, silently questioning why he would show someone to the women’s bathroom. 

But Rebekah smiles. She must have recognized him too. Could this be a ploy to get them alone to talk? 

“I mean, I’m heading that way anyway.” Bradley adds, attempting nonchalance. 

“Do you mind terribly sitting with her until Bob returns?” Rebekah asks of Nat before they venture off. 

“Not at all” Silent girl code thanks are exchanged via simple glances. 

Bradley does lead them down the hallway near the restrooms, but instead pokes his head in an empty storage room and pulls her in, locking the door behind them. Her back is against the wall and he is dangerously close. 

“Mrs. Robinson” he rasps softly, not quite a whisper. 

She was too old for him, she had initially claimed. When they first met, in a crowded bar, flooded by a sea of uniforms, Bradley was flirting in earnest, but she was treating him like an amusing puppy. Surely he could find a more suitable shore leave match than a recent divorcee like her. Ooh maybe an unassuming grad student! she suggested Or a Rockette; they’re leggy. And flexible! Bradley remained undeterred by the couple years she had on him; he honestly wouldn’t have guessed without her saying so. Eventually, he decided if he couldn’t beat ‘em, he’d playfully join in the age bashing. And so, whenever there was a lull in conversation, or when his mouth was close to her ear as they danced, he would hum the Simon & Garfunkel tune. In the end, it worked in his favor, as the only thing that shut him up was a kiss. 

“Hey, Sailor”

[askthegavinkids]

As bertie gets in his room at some point- in his bed sits a big bunny plushie slighty flopped. With him sits a note that reads as of bellow.

“ dear bertie,

I’m going to be gone for a while because of work and some stress. I have left you cooked meals you dont need to heat up and got you ice cream for after those meals. Mrs Brenda the bunny is going to take my place and watch and take care of you while i’m gone.

With love,

Kristal. ”

- @prodigyattorneykristal

Bertie goes into his room after school since no one's home but him yet again...he sees the bunny and climbs up onto his bed with interest. He starts to sniffle and tear up a little as he reads, Kristal's gone?! But Mrs Brenda can't play touys with him or read him stories or really keep him company! Now everyone's gone... Having nothing better to do, he hugs Mrs Brenda tight for comfort.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸 so excited for Eddie’s groveling time

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷 the reunions are having me in tears

⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️ i love a stupid argument that saps everyone’s braincells

I am sorry I only got to this when 1/3 of it was relevant. BUT.

Since 📸 is done, 30 for

“Where did you even learn this?” Chim asks at one point, gawking at the instructions. A thicker booklet than is comforting to see before a so-called fun activity. “I know your dad doesn’t read this much…”

“Hey,” Eddie scowls as Chris laughs.

“My aunt taught me,” Chris explains. “She loves board games.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Maddie says. “Eddie, you have sisters.”

Eddie nods. “I do.”

“They were at your probationary graduation ceremony thingy,” Maddie says.

“That’s what it’s called,” Buck nods. 

“Have they visited since?” Maddie asks, ignoring Buck.

“Uh, no,” Eddie shakes his head. “I think they only came out to that because it was so close to the funeral.”

Maddie frowns a little.

And that. That there. That frown. That’s where the problem begins. Buck can identify it. He can tell this is a moment he will look back on and go, yeah, that’s when the bloodhound caught the scent. 

“Okay, so how many cards do I need again?” Chim asks Chris. He has clearly had the same thought as Buck and wishes to redirect the conversation.

“Seven,” Chris answers. 

“What were their names again?” Maddie asks. 

---

30 for 🪷:

---

Well, okay then.

Howie’s wife takes a deep breath. She wipes tears from her eyes. 

“Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together like she’s come to an important decision. Her voice is sort of breathless. “Chimney, do you have a reason other than his being dead to think that this isn’t Kevin?”

Kevin looks at Howie. His eyes are still wide, face frozen with disbelief. But, still, he shakes his head. No. He doesn’t have any reason to think Kevin isn’t Kevin, other than the teensy little matter of Kevin’s death. Which apparently happened three decades ago. What does that make it? 2035. Howie is… Howie is fifty-five. He’s older now than his mother was when she died. 

“Alright, then,” his wife says. “Okay. We are going to just act like you are Kevin, then. Because we don’t leave brothers out at the side of a lake alone. Howie knows that, he’s just freaking out. I’m Maddie, and I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She crosses the space between them and extends her hand. He shakes it numbly.

“Hi, Maddie,” Kevin says. 

“I’d give you a hug but you’re very wet,” she explains. “We should probably leave. Bertie, Jee, can you run and grab the picnic stuff?”

“Yep!” Bertie replies brightly.

“Sure,” Jee-Yun nods, and the two kids walk off together.

---

Since ⚫️ is done 30 for

She said no, because there was a global pandemic, and then they lost Nia, and then med school didn’t pan out the way she thought, and her wife nearly died, and then her judgement on the job was questioned and she made an enemy of a corrupt city councilwoman. And then they didn’t get the baby they were promised, but they got the daughter who was always meant to be hers, and they fell so deeply in love with her. And then they lost her. And then they got her back again, but they really thought they wouldn’t for a moment there. And maybe they got Mara back, but then they lost Bobby. So maybe Hen just can’t deal anymore. Maybe Hen just needs a break. 

Maybe Hen would just like to skip to the part where Chim being captain and Eddie being her partner feels normal. 

But she doesn’t get to have that. So instead, she swallows her discomfort, and she braces herself for a long ass day. 

🚑

“So,” Eddie says, as they climb into the ambulance. 

Their first job of the day has ended up not being a call at all. It’s a festival. A beer festival, where LAFD and LAPD presence is required. Chim, new captain, was voluntold to work it. So work it they will. Their day will be spent doling out first aid and dealing with drunk people puking. Excellent.

“So?” Hen repeats. 

“First day,” Eddie says. 

“You’ve been back for weeks,” Hen points out. 

“No, like, in the ambulance,” Eddie says. “You and I. Partners.” 

“Uh uh,” Hen shakes her head. “Nope.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“We do not have to be weird about this like you and Buck.”

[altmechstsct]

. . . are you sure you're okay--

Bertie? I-- I brought. I brought blankets.

I'm. I'm fine. I just-- nothing happened.

I. . . heard otherwise. Do you want-- do you want a hug?

I-- I don't need hugs. Not--

you're fucking shaking. we should have-- i-- she--

Don't hurt her.

. . . What? She-- she killed you.

I've killed people before. Again and again and again, and again. The entire time I was dead, that was what I did. What makes me dying any different?