#im in hufflepuff

[itstheghostofmypast]

Y/N reading in peace.

Draco glaring at her

Y/N: *ignores*

Draco continues to glare

Y/N sighing: What?

Draco: what are you reading?

Y/N: shhh, I'm at a good part, he's talking about his crush.

Draco: THAT'S MY JOURNAL!

Y/N: You mean your diary?

Draco: No, my journal.

Y/N: Right...also, it's best to tell your girlfriend how much you like the sound of her laugh instead of writing it in a secret diary.

Draco: I'll hex you, I swear.

Y/N: Aww~ Like how you wrote in this last entry about me being able to hex your heart-

Draco malfunctioning

[bitterspoons]

For once, I thought it was me.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate au where you can hear the songs your soulmate is listening to. Fred asks your best friend—Angelina—to the ball thinking she's his soulmate.

use of y/n

Warnings: Angst and just a lil' fluff

Word Count:

part one / part two coming soon

A/N: of course the first thing I write is a soulmate au 😭—it's fine and I hope you like it.

"Angelina!" Y/n calls, running over to the Gryffindor table—almost tripping over her feet before placing a hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"Yes?" Angelina looked up from her conversation with the Weasley twins and smiled at her best friend. The Great Hall was bustling with noise.

Y/n panted, catching her breath as she fixed her hair. "Sorry—I just—I ran—oh god I'm dying—" Y/n tried to catch her breath before waving her hand at the twins. "Give me a second—continue your conversation..."

Angelina chuckled before turning back to George and Fred. "This is my friend, Y/n." Angelina introduced. "She's in Hufflepuff so I doubt you would've met her."

Y/n waved, stealing some of Angelina's water.

"Why haven't you invited her to some of our parties?" George asked, batting his eyes. "It would've been nice, seeing a pretty face more often."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the flirt, making space next to her for Y/n. "Yeah, I've asked her but she's not a huge fan of social events." She explained. "It's a miracle she's even in the Great Hall—why aren't you with Willow?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out after Divination. Turns out my detention with Professor Sprout is cancelled!" The Hufflepuff said happily, still a bit red from George's flattering.

"Hell yeah!" Angelina cheered. "I told you she loves you."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah but turning her favorite plant into a pair of heels is pushing the line."

Fred cackled. "Y/n, You did what?!"

In her head, a symphony sounded. Him just saying her name sounded like an orchestra.

Pops of warmths fidgeted around her. She had always had a crush on the Weasley, and she never really knew when it happened. She hasn't told a soul and she never would. It was just— he always seemed so happy. She had made him happy, she made him laugh.

Y/n beamed as she explained how she had gotten too caught up with her conversation with Angelina about what shoes to wear for the Yule Ball, she had completely forgotten about the spell she was casting.

"Little Chéri's a troublemaker huh?" Fred teased, scrunching up his nose.

"Chéri?!" Angelina cackled—not a fan of pet names in the slightest.

George grumbled. "Fred has been learning French so he can impress girls."

Y/n laughed, taking a sip of Angelina's water again. "I think it's cute." She bit the tip of her thumbs, an old habit of hers.

"Ever the hopeless romantic, Y/n." Angelina commented, stealing her drink back.

The four engaged in conversation until a Slytherin tapped on Y/n's shoulder. "Uh—Y/n, I think I have a fitting right now." She said awkwardly, getting glares from the Gryffindors.

"Oh!" Y/n shot up, grabbing the last strawberry off of Angelina's plate before grabbing Angelina's pen—sticking it behind her ear—and running off, dragging the Slytherin with her.

"Hey!" Angelina protested, grumbling as she bit into her toast.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, battling Ron for the last corndog.

"Huh? Oh—Y/n and I are helping organise the Ball." Angelina explained, not seeing how Fred watched her run her fingers through her hair as she grabbed another pen to do her Potions Homework. "She's helping make and tailor people's outfits."

"Y/n?" Hermione clarified, popping into the conversation. "She's ridiculously talented, she made the dress I'm wearing!"

"She made adjustments on mine!" Angelina looked at Hermione. "I didn't like how bland my dress was, so she helped bedazzled it."

"Do you think she can fix Fred's dress?" George asked, earning a punch from Fred. "Ow! No seriously though, his tie is all wonky and his pants go way past his feet. Poor bloke's gonna trip!"

Angelina laughed, packing her stuff away and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Find out yourself! I have to go check up on the Frog Choir."

Just a couple minutes later, Fred heard oddly croaky choruses from his soulmate.

●●●

Fred was trying to go the sleep that night, but all he could hear was stupid music.

When he couldn't decipher whether he was hearing it through his soulmate or if he was hearing it in the common room, he shoved his slippers on and slowly went down stairs.

As he peeked his head around the corner, he saw Angelina dancing with somebody—a CD player in the background as they laughed.

It was the same music playing in his head...Is Angelina—actually his soulmate?

He watched Angelina dance with her friend, practicing their dance for the ball before slowly going back upstairs.

Y/n and Angelina fell the floor in a heap, almost crying of laughter as Angelina stepped on Y/n's foot and then went crashing to the floor.

"So, are you planning on asking your mystery crush to the ball?" Angelina asked, rolling onto her stomach and popping the CD out.

Angelina didn't have a clue about her crush on one of the Weasley twins. Y/n refused to tell her, but she did give vague details about why she liked him so much.

"You think I have time for that?" Y/n questioned, brushing her hair. "Even if I did have the time to ask him, he's probably not even my soulmate."

"Who cares?" Angelina asked, exasperated.

Angelina was one of the people who couldn't hear music from their soulmate, it happened more than you'd think—about as common as dyslexia.

Angelina didn't give two fucks about whether the person she was dating was her soulmate, she tended to do whatever she wanted.

"Well—my soulmate is pretty cool too." Y/n protested.

"Well obviously!" Angelina retorted. "They has to be good enough for our Y/n"

"Oh stop it." Y/n laughed, throwing her hairbrush at Angelina. "I won't have time to ask someone and besides, I think he likes someone else." Y/n looked down, fiddling at the edge of her pink pyjamas.

"Your soulmate or your crush?"

"Maybe both!"

●●●

Fred woke up early today, mostly because he couldn't sleep. I mean, he just found his soulmate! This is the moment that everybody waits for, and it finally happened!

Fred was utterly in love with whoever his soulmate was. The two soulmates have sang duets with each other since they could talk—never making any action to try and find each other but Fred would be lying if he said he hadn't blasted music in his ears just to see if someone in the Great Hall would react.

His soulmate was constantly listening to music and singing songs, it comforted him whenever he heard it—especially since he's heard it since he was little.

And it was Angelina, a girl he was been trying not to crush on for ages.

Fred walked down the stairs, almost laughing when he saw Angelina.

Angelina and Y/n were completely passed out on the common room couches, paper sprawled out as they were doing a history of magic essay.

Fred shook Angelina awake. "Angie...Angie!"

Angelina fell off the bed. "What?"

Fred grinned. "I just thought you might wanna head to bed before the rest of the house wakes up."

Angelina rubbed her eyes before looking around—seeing essay papers, pens and her best friend, still sleeping as she sleepily held the tip of her thumb in her mouth and lulled herself asleep. "What time is it?"

"You have a little less than three hours before everybody else wakes up."

Angelina sighed, getting up and separating their papers and pens. "Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" He said hopefully.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Angelina handed him a messenger bag with little bows and gold chains decorating it, he took it without question as she continued.

"Do you think you could get Y/n to her common room? This is.. um This is the longest she's slept for a while and I don't know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room."

Fred thought for a moment—but who was he to deny his soulmate? After all, getting into the Hufflepuff dorms were easy—having learned the ins and outs of practically the whole school.

So Fred slung the bag across his shoulder and walked over to Y/n, still sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you!" Angelina grabbed her own supplies and started going up stairs. "You're the best!" She called. "I'll get you a tailoring with her today! Is dinner alright?"

Fred nodded, slowly picked Y/n up, putting her on the couch so he could give her a piggy back ride to her common room. "Hold on..."

Almost as if her sleeping body could hear it, Y/n's body tensed up, making it easier for Fred to carry.

So Fred walked out of the Gryffindor dormitories and started walking in the halls to go to the Hufflepuff common room.

The sun had barely risen, shining dull lights into the hallway and Fred felt Y/n shift in her sleep—ignoring how his skin fluttered as her breath rolled on top of it.

Fred almost stopped walking as Y/n shifted once more, making a small whimper, trying to pull her hand closer to her face.

"Chéri, if you move your hand, you're gonna fall—okay?" Fred said softly, adjusting his grip on her legs, making sure she wouldn't slip.

Y/n hummed in response, tucking her head on Fred's shoulder as he kept on walking.

Fred was halfway to the common room—walking slowly as to not wake up Y/n when he froze.

Having her thumb clasped between her fingers around Fred's chest, supporting her upper body weight—Fred felt her head twitching, needing something to soothe her to sleep.

Not wanting to have to explain the situation to the sleeping girl or disappoint Angelina—Fred adjusted the girl, now giving her a piggy-front, letting Y/n head sit comfortably against his neck.

Fred debated checking whether his face was on fire when the sleeping girl began to press little kisses on his neck, trying to substitute something for her thumb.

Fred continued walking, but why was he so flustered?

Maybe it’s his soulmate’s best friend.

What was her name again? Y/n?

Fred knocked on the Hufflepuff dorm door in the tune of Helga Hufflepuff. Before walking in and taking the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

Trying not to feel awkward, he searched the dorm labels until he saw it.

______________

Girls Dorm #207

- Susan Bones

- Lia Diggory

- Y/n L/n

______________

Praising Merlin that she didn’t have too many roommates— He knocked on the door a few times, jumping up again to make sure Y/n didn’t slip.

"Hello?" A small voice asked, a very tired red head opened the door.

Fred gave an award smile. "I have a delivery?"

The girl smiled before letting him in and pointing at the empty bed and messed up desk.

Feed walked over, clutching on to Y/n as he quickly flipped the blanket open and tucked her instead. Y/n immediately latched onto the blankets.

Fred smiled before looking at her desk—tons of dress designs a long with tons of reminders everywhere when a certain one caught his eyes.

The Weasley Twins Inspired Dress

Curious, he picked up the sketch to see that she managed to make a confetti canon dress, inspired by that time he and George covered the Slytherin team in confetti right before a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

"I think you're cute together," Susan whispered bashfully, her cheeks pink.

"Oh no," her face fell when Fred denied it. "I already found my soulmate today."

"Oh I'm sorry." Susan apologised, combing her hair. "I just thought your h—never mind." She began to point at her neck before waving it off. "I assume you know how to take care of it?"

"Yeah! I'm planning on asking her to the yule ball!" Fred said, not having any idea what Susan was talking about.

"What? Ya know what—" Susan dug through her make up bag before grabbing Fred's arm and swatching some concealer shades. "You're lucky, you're my winter shade." Susan tossed Fred a concealer wand before shooing him out. "Bye!"

Holding onto the concealer, extremely confused, Fred walked back to him common room before going into the bathroom.

"Shit." Fred vocalised, realising why Susan Bones has thrown him concealer.

A light hickey lay on the side of his neck where Y/n had been.

Fred spent the next two hours trying to figure out how concealer worked.

He didn't understand it—instead opting for a scarf instead to cover up the blotchy disaster he created on his neck.

●●●

Y/n genuinely didn't question why she woke up in her bed and more concerned on her planner—you could see her running up and down the halls all day.

"Professor Moody, may I borrow Ron Weasley please?"

Ron showed her his suit for the ball. "Never mind, you're beyond help. Professor Moody, you can have him back." Y/n said, scribbling something out in her planner.

Taking the stairs, Y/n just started walking—flipping to the back of her planner to edit some sketches and ideas for dresses—not noticing the stair cases changing directions.

Walking up and down and sideways along the halls, Y/n kept walking until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said automatically only to be shushed by two voices. "Huh—?"

""SHH!" Y/n looked at the two Weasley twins.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see nobody.

"I don' know," Fred admitted.

"We're skipping, so I assume we have to be quiet." George finished.

The Hufflepuff scoffed. "I'm not skipping. I did all my work in advance so I could focus of the dress making." She looked down at the planner. "And on that note—you have a appointment with me in two minutes. We can't be late!"

"Does that mean you have the answers?" Fred asked as he got dragged away.

"We can discuss answers after we're on time for our session."

"If it's our appointment, how can we be late?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “It’s fine we’re almost there, Willow’s gonna be upset.”

“Who?”

Y/n dragged Fred near a tree where a small desk, mannequins and color swatches were, Y/n thrust Fred upon a little platform until tree branches began to swing around chaotically.

“Willow! Calm down! This isn’t Ron! This is a different Weasley!” Y/n started yelling.

“Willow? As in the Whomping Willow?!”

“Stop moving!” Y/n snapped, petting the branches. “Willow didn’t like it when your brother nearly killed her with a car. I think she has like— Weasley trauma.”

Fred cackled. “Weasley trauma?” A tree branch slapped the back of his head. “Hey!”

“She’s very sensitive.” Y/n defended. “Speaking of Ron, please tell me your suit isn’t as hideous.”

“Don’t worry— I just have a normal suit… I wasn’t sure if I should’ve brought it so I just wore it—”

“That’s perfect. Mind shrugging off the jacket and scarf?”

Nervously, Fred took off the scarf and jacket, revealing the concealer mess on his neck.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell happened to your neck!” Y/n cooed. "Goodness, let me help you. You're gonna break out... Accio makeup kit!"

"I have every shade under the sun, I'm helping people with their makeup too." Y/n waved her hand down. "Get down, off." Y/n stepped onto the platform as Fred stepped off, facing Y/n.

Y/n took a makeup wipe and cleaned up the spot before taking out a whisk and spinning it on the hickey.

"When did you learn how to hide hickey? Does that even work?" Fred asked, watching the metal kitchen utensil.

"Oh hush, it's common knowledge." Y/n pushed his face away, continuing to whisk. "It helps the blood disperse. Next time, put ice on it before it bruises."

Shade matching and blending it in, Y/n hoped Fred couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest as she finished hiding the red mark. "See? Like it never even happened."

Willow presented a mirror for Fred to see for himself, thank god because that scarf was very itchy.

"Now, how much are we thinking off the tie?" Y/n held up a tape measure and a sharpie, tucking the sharpie behind her ear. "It supposed to be around your belt buckle...Do you feel comfortable with it over here?"

Fred nodded, looking at her in the mirror more than him. Why hadn't he seen her more often? Has she been friends with Angelina for a long time?

"Lovely...okay do you mind if I take this?" Y/n took the colorful tie off Fred and held it up to Willow." Willow, this is Fred's tie." Willow held onto the tie.

"Okay just one second..." Y/n brought out a sheet of brown fabric and a sheet of black fabric and hopped onto the platform with him. She pulled the black one around half of his chest and the brown one around the other half.

"Okay so I think the brown is more flattering on you, I feel like you look paler with the black one—Hey!"

Fred's head started tilting to one side as he imagined Angelina and her hanging out—still in disbelief he had actually found his soulmate.

Y/n grabbed his jaw and moved it so that it faced her. "Sorry, I just need to see—" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows confused as Fred pointed at something in the distance behind her.

Y/n looked behind her only for her jaw to pulled back and facing Fred, pulling the same move she had accidentally done to him. "Touché," She smiled—desperately hoping she wasn't blushing.

"How long have you friends with Angelina?" Fred asked, snapping Y/n out of her mental freakout.

"Oh—uh, since first year. We met on the train." Y/n cast a spell to turn Fred's suit brown. "Yeah that looks better—you looked like you were going to a funeral."

“Then why do I never see you guys hang out?”

Y/n thinks before answering. “I like to keep myself busy, that or I just eat in the kitchen.”

“Why not hang out with Angelina?”

“Uh- Well Alicia and I don’t really get along so I don’t want to make it weird for Angelina. Besides, most of the time Angelina hangs out with me in the kitchen.”

So that’s why Fred never sees Angelina in the Great hall. “Why the kitchen?”

“Because the house elves love me.” Y/n smiled, writing her to do list. “Besides, I like baking.”

Fred stepped off the platform and watched Y/n write. “Do you bake any of the food in the Great Hall?”

“The brownies, but sometimes I also cook the ribs but I like baking more than cooking.”

Fred loves the brownies, he eats them every time they show up on the table.

“Speaking of food… It’s dinner, you better hurry before all the seats are taken.” Y/n starting putting things away and getting out a dress presumingly belonging to her next appointment.

Fred stepped off the small platform, checking his covered hickey once more before starting to turn around. "You aren't going to dinner?"

"Maybe later." She responded quickly, casting a spell on the dress. "Not hungry. " She said briefly. "You can pick up your tie by like tomorrow."

"Alright then, I'll see you around?"

"Sure. Angelina! Can you grab that?" A piece of fabric swirled away in the wind near an approaching Angelina.

Fred walked away, happy with his day and his fitting appointment.

(A/N lmao I have nooooo idea how to end these. Part two could be ready tomorrow or in 3 months, we'll see.)

[keri-mcberry]

Spring Break 🌸✨ (Part 4)

Classic Muggle magic ✨

<< PART 3 || PART 5 >>

[myokk]

first dada class😳✨

[syaolaurant]

🌟🌟🌟

Week 1 - Introduce your MC, their house and year

Violette Laurant - (New) 5th year - Hufflepuff 🦡💛🖤

.

My 2nd Gouche attempt. I'm getting better (I guess...), still having a hard time figured out how to use it. My husband told me maybe I would work better with gouche than watercolor cuz my paintings are always too thick 🥲

[lilithofpenandbook]

It makes me SO MAD when people say "there are kind Slytherins 🥺🥺🥺" and show a picture of fucking SLUGHORN

Slughorn? You mean "oh I didn't think a muggleborn would be this talented" Slughorn?

Slughorn as in the Slughorn who told Tom Riddle, a child KNOWN for being a lil twisted, about HORCRUXES just to look good?

Slughorn who didn't even notice a fucking cult being formed in his own house???

People like to blame Dumbledore for the cult, but tell me why it's his fault and not the HEAD. OF. HOUSE? Dumbledore isn't an all powerful all seeing wizard! He's a human who happens to be intelligent and skilled at magic but NOT All Seeing! How is he gonna know Tom Riddle's forming a cult when one) he wasn't even HEADMASTER and two) SLUGHORN was Tom's head of house and should have been aware of it happening UNDER. HIS. NOSE?

Like, even in Snape's time, where the fuck was Horace Slughorn? Where was he when the Mauraders were abusing his own student? Where was he when Lucius and the others were grooming the younger children? Where was he when all of this was happening?

Yes, McGonagall should have disciplined her students. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to protect his. Yes, headmaster Dumbledore should have probably intervened in the cult forming. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to intervene and inform the headmaster.

For fuck's sake, he wasn't even a good teacher! How did a 16 year old child manage to correct all the incorrect potions in the book and not the FUCKING. TEACHER?!

Horace Slughorn is NOT a "kind Slytherin".

He's the worst one.

[moonstruckmoony]

Happy belated belated birthday to these 2!! 🥹🫶💛💖

Gosh, I’m so sorry this came out so late, I was too busy to finish this as fast as would’ve liked 😭 but i still want to finish it so I did! ✊😠🔥

When I found out that 2 of my favorite tumblr artists has the same MC birthdays I just had to make a gift! So Happy belated Birthday Lyla and Jae 💛✨✨ you two are such sunshines 🫶

And you two are such a blessing to this fandom ily 🩵🩵 @lamieboo @keri-mcberry

EDIT: pose from here! (Can't believe I forgot 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Lyla Estaris belongs to @keri-mcberry

Park Jae-Won belongs to @lamieboo

[jameskinniesrise]

people: which hogwarts house are you in?

me: hahahhaha....that's a long story....

[patrophthia]

love again | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle × reader

genre: fluff, mutual pining (but they don’t know it) OOC tom, cheesy tooth rooting dialogues, not beta read we die like harry’s parents

wc: 1.9k

this is a request ! thank you for sending this in anon!!

tags: @tr4ppola

Tom is going through a tough time. Apparently, what he thought he knew about himself turned out to be false. He thought he couldn't love seeing as he was conceived under a love potion. But if that was true, then why does he feel like he's in trouble every time he sees you?

He was used to it by now, girls swooning whenever he smiled at them or offered the smallest of compliments like "you look nice today" or anything along that line, he knew that this course of action would —without fail— benefit him in the end.

So imagine his surprise when he told you he liked your new hair-do just so he could grab the last copy of a book he needed in the library and all you did was roll your eyes and walked away with the book he needed in your hands.

Is this how things were supposed to be? Was it possible that his charms did not work on you? Or did he actually not have charm whatsoever and everyone else had been lying to him to make him feel about himself.

Had everyone been pitying him by pretending as if they were charmed by him?

No, no, no.

This makes no sense, why is the one person who wasn't affected by his charms making him question himself on something he was sure of just minutes prior? And why is he (as much as he doesn't want to admit it) so attracted to you for it?

He needs to know more about you. So, for research purposes, he decided that it was best for him to talk to you. And to do so, he needs to actually approach you.

Standing by your desk, he mentally curses at himself once he noticed that his hand was trembling. Why was his hand trembling? He'd flirted with girls before, this was just a talk, it shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it is. He can do this.

He calls out your last name and you were quick to look up at him with a curious expression, "what?" You say, not in the kindness manner but he doesn't mind it. Somehow he doesn't seem to mind anything you do as long as your attention were on him.

"Can I sit here?"

You turn your head towards the seat beside the Professor's desk, the table empty as ever. "What's wrong with your usual seat?"

"I wanted to change it up a bit," he answers, moving to sit beside you without much of an answer from you. He wasn't dumb, he knew that the rest of the class were looking in between the two of you. So with false politeness, he adds, "can I?"

You purse your lips. "I don't see why not." Your next action happens in a blink of an eye, you getting up and gathering your stuff as quickly as you could. "I guess, I'll find somewhere else to sit then."

Tom feels, and must've looked, stupid. And somehow, he couldn't have cared less, standing up as he followed you like a pet waiting for its owner's command.

You took a seat at his usual table and it wasn't long for him to be at your side. And when you snickered, Tom doesn't let it affect him. But what he does let affect him though, was the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

You'd like to think that Tom Riddle was annoying and unlikable. You'd like to think that he was irritating and lacked 'game' in every sense possible. You'd like to think that he wasn't as smart as you, nor was he half as good looking as he was. But it is what you'd like to think; what you actually thought of him though, was that he was handsome, smart, and charming. 

And that bothers you more than it should.

But he doesn't need to know that. And if anything he needs someone to keep his ego in check, and you were more than willing to be the one to do so despite him actually having an effect on you as well.

You didn't notice it at first, but a look in Tom's eyes showed that he was just as curious with you as you were with him.

You were on a Hogsmeade trip, one where your friends insisted that you go on but ditched you twenty minutes in for her boyfriend. And Tom was the first person to see you walking around alone.

He decides then to take you out for gelato seeing as it was summer after all —whether it was a date or not, it was not specified and you weren't going to read between the lines any time soon.

"Did you want a bite?" He asks.

"What?" You murmur, looking up from your own cone and at him. "What are you talking about?"

"If you wanted to try mine all you had to do was ask." Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. The two of you did order separate flavours and it'll be nice to try his as well.

Your brows knit together. "I'm more concerned about how you're so comfortable with exchanging germs when we haven't even held hands yet."

"Do you want to hold my hand?" He has to physically hold back a giggle, a teenage boy does not giggle, and Tom Riddle certainly does not giggle.

"That's not what I said dumbass." And he takes that pet name with a grain of salt.

He moves from that topic then, tilting his cone to your side. "Do you want it or do you not, idiot?"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why he suddenly finds it in his best interest to always be near you. He had feelings for you (or at least you think he does) and it's a relief to know that he's also going through the same sets of emotion as you are.

What was the set of emotions exactly? You didn't know, all you knew was that you've accepted that you had feelings for one another by the end of it. Your behaviour towards Tom still hasn't changed, you still think he's irritating, or at least that's how he sees it. You still deny his advances, you still roll your eyes at his compliments, you still call him stupid pet names, and yet he still likes you. And he thinks that that's worrying.

Somehow, along the lines of seeking you in an attempt to study you, he began to enjoy your company, and to miss it when you aren't there. He's grown soft on you and it was starting to piss him off.

Just last week he was thinking of ways to improve the wizarding world for the better, he'd thought up of a following in which they'd do his deeds for him, he'd thought up of how much better the wizarding world would be if there happened to be no muggle born and had never, for once in his life, cared about another person's feeling.

And now, as stupid as it sounds, all he could think about was you. Cheesy, he knows. Is it weird that he wanted you to be by his side during his whole plan to rule the wizarding world? Not that he thinks you'd be very supportive of it. But, even if you weren't supportive of it, he'll change his way for your approval. That's weird right?

Is it weird that he wants you to be his first and last and he hasn't even asked you out? Probably.

You were upset today, with what he didn't know. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't think of using legilimency on you, but he also knew that you'd think of it as an invasion of privacy. So he'll wait for you to tell him why you were upset instead —no matter how unlikely it is for you to do so considering your attitude when it comes to him.

"Stop staring at me." He didn't think you'd notice seeing as you were looking straight at the board, but he turned away from you regardless. "It's weird."

You turn to look at him once and he can't help but turn to look back at you, once, twice. "Are you okay?"

You turn back to the board. "Now you're acting even weirder." He could see your eyebrow raise in exaggeration with your words. "Since when did you care about how someone else feels?"

He thinks back, no, this isn't the first time he'd ask someone if they were okay. It was out of genuine curiosity this time though, all the other times were just a facade he put up to seem kinder and more lovable.

He doesn't answer your question, "I asked you first."

You turn to him again, this time your eyes lingering on him a lot longer. "Are you going to answer my question when I answer yours?"

"Yes." He nods slowly, trying to calm himself down, why is it that he gets nervous every time you look at him? This isn't like him at all. "Only if you answered truthfully."

"Okay," you say slowly, thinking to yourself, it's not like he can actually tell if you're lying to him or not. "I'm fine, just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

That's what made you upset? Something so trivial? He can't believe that he has feelings for someone who was upset over something so little when there were bigger things to care about. And yet, this stupid little infatuation doesn't budge one bit.

"Now your turn," you add.

"I started caring when I realised I had feelings for you." There's no point in beating around the bush, right? "Is that what you wanted?"

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, the corner of it curving upwards as you try to hide your smile. "Not exactly."

"Well what did you want then?"

"An actual explanation on when you started caring about others feelings." You're going to be the death of him. "And as for the feelings thing, I wanted you to ask me out properly."

He looks at the board distractedly, "how am I supposed to do that exactly?"

He wasn't very good at this love thing. Not that this even was love. He wasn't good with this feelings thing is a better way to phrase it. He wasn't good with this feelings thing and he hopes that you'd guide him through it.

"I dunno," You hum loudly in thought, if you were to be any louder than he'd think that you were mocking him. "How about 'Hey, I like you, want to go out sometimes, on a date?'?"

"Hey, I like you. Let's go out on a date." Okay, maybe creativity isn't his best trait. Nor were subtleties it seems. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Try it again," you tell him, no longer caring about the class. "But less snarky, and lose that attitude."

Tom rolls his eyes but does lose any of his 'previous' attitude nonetheless; his voice is soft now, harming just like he always was (not that you'd tell him this). "Would you like to go on a date?"

"Sure." You don't know just how many buttons Tom has (you'd have to find it out later on your date) but for now you'll try to push every one of it. "Just don't fall in love with me by the end of it."

And again, as cheesy as it may sound, Tom mentally smacks you and him in the face. Your warnings were a little too late. You were now his first, and he will be sure that you'd be his last.

— from bee: i normally write super OOC tom but this is a totally different character i’m sorry TT,, he’d a cutie nonetheless!!

[sunshines-legacy]

smoking weed with him

[sallowsarchives]

[starry-slithers]

Avania Chase x Amara Ambrose crack fic

(SYLVIA BABY DONT WORRY THIS IS AN AU AVANIA LOVES YOU BABY GIRL IM SO SORRY)

“Stop squirming ‘Mara.” Avania mumbled, trying to braid green ribbons into Amara’s hair. The pink haired girl was straddling her lap. “Why do you need to do this again?” Amara scoffed, arms around Avania’s waist.

“I’m trying to learn how to do hair, because most of my friends have long hair so I want to be able to help.”

“I have short hair too.”

“I know but you’re, you know, you. You’re the best person to practice on because you’ll look pretty no matter what.”

“Suck up.”

“You love it.” Avania mumbled, kissing up her werewolf scar. “You’re s’pretty ‘Mara.” “You aren’t so bad yourself, Chase.” Avania laughed and got off Amara’s lap to shrug off her red long coat and roll up her sleeves. “Hmm…I think you’d look nice with your tie as a headband rather than the green ribbons…” She said, fiddling with Amara’s loose tie and looking into her gorgeous grey eyes for silent permission. She clambered back onto her lap and Amara squeezed her hips.

“Do what you think will look best.”

Avania took off Amara’s tie and used it as a headband.

“The green looks so good on you.” She mumbled, playing with the werewolf’s hair. Avania had a paw print necklace and moon earrings to always have a piece of her hot masc werewolf girl. “Maybe I should give you pink streaks to match me.” The Hufflepuff teased. “I swear on sweet Salazar if you even think about-“

Avania shut her up with a quick kiss and ruffled her hair,

“I know Wolfie, I’m just messing with you.” Amara tugged her closer and Avania snuggled up to her,

Let’s just say Avania gave up trying to learn styling and was just content to lay in Amara’s arms for the rest of the evening.

A/N: Very short because I didn’t know how to write Amara but I think it would be cute to have my masc lesbian with @boxdstars’s masc lesbian.

[keri-mcberry]

Hello! ive always been a silent fan of your work (Lyla is just so LOVABLE! 💛 and your Seb is honestly a breath of fresh air - love soft!Seb) so ive decided to break my silence just to offer you these favorite facts i know of otters 💌🤭

Bawww thank you so much! It’s lovely to meet you 🥹💕

When I saw your ask, I IMMEDIATELY needed to draw out the second one! It’s so adorable 😭🦦

This is Lyla and Sebastian in their twenties! Lyla 100% holds Seb’s hand when she sleeps 💛💚

Also, imagining Lyla carrying around a “special rock” is so funny to me LMAO 💀 I will def be drawing that scenario too ����

[myokk]

Eloise and her brother, Leo🫶

[cxndiedvi0lets]

Hi Fawn ! @hauntedrose555

[joeytime]

Maxiel Hogwarts Au...

If you asked Max what he thought of Hogwarts, he would likely make a joke about pigs and insult their quidditch teams.

He isn't sure it's smart to do that now, in the middle of the Hogwarts' grand hall, completely surrounded by Hogwarts' students and staff. He isn't sure he could escape even if he had his broom.

"Wow, you really hate Hogwarts." The dreaded hat says atop his hair.

Shut up! Max thinks furiously at it. Get out of my head!

Everyone stares intensely at Max, not daring to breathe while the fate of the member of the national quidditch team is being decided. Even the teachers are at the edge of their seats, other than Dumbledore, he seems to know where Max will inevitably end up.

"Little quidditch champion. Everyone is expecting" The hat says, as if it's life of forever moving from head to head to call one of four words is somehow a greater destiny than Max's.

It's not. Max knows he will go on to succeed in life, and win as many quidditch championships as he wants and then retire on an island in The Maldives with a butt load of cash while the hat is left in a dusty room, waiting for it's yearly use. Max wants to reach to rip it up but it would not be wise to do so in front of Dumbledore himself. His hands stay in his lap, frown etched on his face.

"Impatient. Immature." Max's fingers twitch slightly. There is only so much backtalk one can take from a hat.

"Violent and uncaring, wherever will I put you?" Max doesn't agree with that description, he cares plenty, about winning that is.

"Foolish. Foolish boy." It doesn't hurt, Max has heard those words plenty of times.

Max sulks.

It's a beat of silence before the suspense reaches its climax. "Hufflepuff! " The hat hollers, not bothering to consult Max on it's decision. Which is very rude and impolite.

The entire room erupts into chaos, screams of "What! " and "No way! No way!" echo throughout the hall.

Max can't help but agree, he thought he might end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw if he was super unlucky. But Hufflepuff? His father was going to disown him. The media are going to have a field day. Well they were going to already, regardless of which house Max was put in.

Dumbledore moves to pull the hat off of Max, the treacherous thing whispers one last time: "Things will make sense in time. Be patient. Do not mope."

Max doesn't mope. Verstappens can't mope, so he doesn't.

Dumbledore gently guides a slightly speechless Max to the Hufflepuff table, pushing him into the seat before winking and walking off.

Max wants to burn down this school.

Cheers erupt from the Hufflepuff table, hands coming to pat him on the back and fawn over him.

The other tables seem miserable at the prospect of losing out on a quidditch champion.

"Oh my god! Hi! Hi! Oh my god! It's you!" A boy excitedly chatters to his left, other students crowd around him and Max suddenly finds that he can't breathe. It's like he's small again, after being knocked off his broom by an overly excited big kid. He had fallen to the ground, too exhausted and overwhelmed to get back up.

His father had been mad, really mad. He hadn't slept well again after that.

"Guys! Guys! He doesn't look so good. " Whoever that is, is definitely right, Max can hardly breathe, he tries to use the breathing technique his father taught him after his first match, control his breathing. It doesn't work, it only causes the panic and urgency in his veins to surge. It did work, it's purpose was to put him on guard, not calm down.

He curls into himself, hands around his ears to protect from the deafening sound of crowds cheering. His bubble of personal space is of course pried and poked at. Fans never had any self awareness when it came to these matters and his father never did have sympathy for personal space.

Hands are pried away from him, he can hear outraged screeching at the action. His own quidditch team's screams when he was 6 years old and pulled away to join the older kids. They thought it wasn't fair that a small boy climbed the ranks faster than they did.

"Hey! Hey! Everyone back up right now!" The entire opposing team bombarding him in an attempt to stop him. The referee's reprimand that fell on deaf ears.

The people at his sides are replaced and gentle hands hold him back up, out of the ball he curled himself into.

Max doesn't dare look up, too afraid at the thought of seeing his father's judgemental look.

"Hey, are you okay? " Max turns his head, soft, gentle, warm eyes, concerned. Jos was never concerned, he was the uncaring one! Not Max!

"I'm fine. " A repeated response, practiced again and again every time he came home to his mother.

The teen with the soft eyes gestures for another boy to sit on Max's other side. The boy opposite Max looks on in concern.

"Hello. I'm Daniel Riccardo, I'm a prefect of Hufflepuff, it's nice to meet you." The gentle boy says, eyes still filled with concern.

"Max Verstappen. " Max manages to choke out.

"The boy on your left is Yuki Tsunoda and that's Lando Norris." Daniel gestures to the boy sitting opposite Max, who waves shyly.

The ruckus Max's sorting caused calms down and everyone settles down to listen to Dumbledore's welcome back speech which luckily does not mention Max.

Max feels strange between Riccardo and Tsunoda, like dread wrapped in false cotton. Norris also peers at him from time to time, creep.

They're sent back to their dorms. Max tells Riccardo that he can get there on his own but the older boy frowns and insists that he takes Max. Max thinks his father would be disappointed at his complacency but he doesn't have the strength to fight it.

Riccardo leads him to the kitchen, Max wants to snap some insult about him being a goody two shoes and how this is none of his business. He holds his tongue.

Riccardo gestures to a specific barrel, looking more worn out than the ones around it. He taps a certain beat, perhaps it's a secret code. That's childish, Max decides, they are not children playing in a fort.

The barrel swings open.

Max grimaces at the small tunnel.

"Here, you try tapping it." Riccardo puts Max's hand to the barrel.

Max repeats the rhythm perfectly. Memory exercises were part of his training.

Once Riccardo is satisfied, he points at the tunnel, almost as if he wants Max to crawl through it.

Max scrunches his nose, seriously? The older boy points more urgently and Max relents, shoving himself through the tunnel.

Well, not shoving, he's not really big, a fact his father loathed, putting him on diets with large sums of proteins and even attempting to use transfiguration spells before it was put to a stop by his mother.

Max wished his mother had not stopped his father. Maybe he would have an excuse not to join this god forsaken house.

It's an agonizing 5 second crawl before he pops out the other end right in front of Lando Norris, the boy before.

Daniel appears behind him, putting a hand on Max's shoulder.

"So Max, this is the Hufflepuff house. You know Yuki and Lando. That's Oscar, Nico and Valtteri." Riccardo urges the boys to come forward.

"It's Verstappen. " Max declares, Riccardo quirks an eyebrow and the rest of the boys look equally confused.

"Hi! I'm Lando! I'm like a huge fan, do you mind signing this for me? " The boy's yellow robes are somehow orange.

Max's PR training kicks in and he smiles one of those sickly sweet smiles that his father loves to wipe off his face before ordering him to smile again. His posture straightens and he reaches a hand around the younger boy's shoulders, patting him on his back once, twice. Just like he rehearsed.

"Sure! " His tone is so obviously a faux sweet as he reaches to retrieve the black marker from his back pocket. The boy has stars in his eyes and Max feels guilty, he always does. He's a fraud.

He signs the hat from his national team, the one he left behind.

He wishes he didn't.

"Hey, are you okay Max? " Riccardo asks, looking weird again.

"I'm doing great, how are you? " His PR trainer said asking back these questions were endearing, cute. Max's father had mocked him for that act, his trainer had been fired after that.

"How about I bring you to your room? Would you like that?" Riccardo asks, Max smiles again, nodding.

"Sure." Norris waves enthusiastically as Riccardo leads him out of the common room and into his private room.

"Are you alright? Max?"

"Call me Verstappen."

"Verstappen. Are you alright?"

"You can go, Riccardo. "

"... Call if you need anything."

When the prefect leaves, Max wants nothing but to burst into tears. He flops onto the bed.

The next day he drags himself out of bed. Even if classes don't start till 9 and the sun hasn't risen yet.

Jos expected him to continue his strict training regime. He was almost tempted to skip it and lie to his father but he thought he better not after his humiliating sorting from yesterday.

Now, alone, Max can see the Hufflepuff room properly. It's... It's all gentle lighting, none of the bright fluorescent lights his room had. The chairs looked comfy and the many plants lazing around the common room tempts him to join them.

Perhaps that would be a better fate, turning into a plant to live the rest of his life in the common room. His hand lingers on his wand, mind on a spell his professor taught him when he was just 9. He didn't.

When he had crawled out of the Hufflepuff room, fully dressed, broom in hand, the sun was just peaking from the horizon.

The halls are empty, some portraits mutter as he walks by. His father's portraits never moved, other than those instructed to. For example, a painter that never stopped moving his brush or a surfer never to take a break from the sea.

Making his way to the Hogwarts field, he stretched, slow and patient. His bones crack from the exhausting day he had before.

The field is decent sized, not as big as the one he played in during national championships, bigger than the one his father made him run laps around till he fainted.

He glides through the air easily, flying comes easily to him. If he were to be given his own time and freedom he thinks he would likely still be a top player in the school leagues.

It's better that he was hurled up though. Better to have reached the top by sheer force of his father's training.

He thinks about his national team, he's a reserve, too young to play officially but the team has him in some practices and he attends smaller competitions for them. Max suspects it's more about having a claim on Max when he comes of age.

He's 15, he still has 3 years to choose which team he wants to go to. By then, he will make his own choice. He will not do whatever pleases his father anymore.

The golden snitch twinkles near the end of the field. Max pretends not to see it.

It is fun, sometimes, tricking the golden snitch, allowing it a false sense of security. Like a tiger cub playing with a cricket.

His father would get mad at him if he did it for too long, he was upset his son couldn't catch it at once. Which Max could, he just didn't see the fun of it.

The fluttering golden ball is in his hands before it can even think of escaping.

Max briefly wonders if the snitch can possibly think, he lets it flutter away, repeating his game once again.

In the golden light of the sun and shaded path of the clouds, the wind whizzes past his ears, he falls into the familiar rhythm of flying, sometimes he makes his own obstacle courses, weaving through imaginary hoops.

By the time the sun reveals itself fully to watch Max fly, he realizes that a crowd has gathered around under him, star-struck Hogwarts students watching, mouths open and everything.

He flushes slightly, he may have had many adoring fans due to his membership in the national team and young age but come on! These were his peers.

Max lowers down, checking his watch to see that it is indeed 8.30am and he has to run if he wants to get to class not drenched in sweat.

He waves slightly to the crowd, zipping to the house dorm even though he's probably breaking several school rules.

He knocks the tune and enters quickly, still high from the adrenaline of flying.

He climbs out of the tunnel only to come face to face with Daniel Riccardo, his face stern and stony.

"Verstappen! You can't just sneak out like that!" Daniel's expression softens when he sees Max.

Max knows he feels pity even if Riccardo knows nothing about his life.

"I of course did not sneak out, I left my room and went to the field." Max doesn't think early hour training counts as sneaking out, going to parties in the dead of the night is sneaking out.

"Max, we were worried. I went into your room and you weren't there. Thought you'd been kidnapped by the other houses to play quidditch for them or something... "

Max considers this briefly, Riccardo knocking on his door gleefully, freezing when he doesn't get an answer. Did his blood pressure spike? Did he throw Max's door open in desperation only to find the room empty?

Max grimaces.

"I went to go training... Sorry..." Max stands awkwardly, hands by his side like a child being punished by a parent.

Riccardo sighs. Max wants to cry.

"Please forgive me, I'm of course sorry, I will do anything!" Max cringes inside, begging with someone other than his father is a foreign concept.

Riccardo has a cheeky smile on his face, Max is almost scared.

"I'll forgive you... Only if you call me Daniel!"

Max groans inwardly, well he's also partly relieved but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"What will it be Max? Will you call me the d word? Or will you suffer in my never ending spite! "Daniel's grin grows.

" Fine. "

" Fine, who? "

"Fine. Daniel."

Max flushes, weird.

Daniel looks elated.