#to the people following her not the lunatics

[sweetestpopcorn]

Regardless of me knowing it was what certain people deserved, I should have known better than to engage in a very long and unnecessary drama with those who thrive on any type of attention, positive or negative, and who block people to have the last word and/or play the victim card.

This is not what I want my blog to be about, not at all, and for that I apologise to everyone following me. You deserved better from me, I have known better in the past and unfortunately today I did not do what I knew I should. Sometimes its just too many years, too much sh:t, too many lunatics coming at you and not leaving you alone when you are only always in your space. In this case to have their 5 minutes of fame and some notes as they tried to defend something that they couldn't.

You will see better from me from now on and my blog will go back to focusing and what were are here for and on the positives. I talk the talk so I will walk the walk. I will do better.

Thank you everyone.

XOXO, Popcorn

[pucksandpower]

Couples Therapy

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: let’s go to couples therapy and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other

You fidget nervously in the waiting room chair, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. This has to be the most ridiculous first date idea ever …but then again, Lando was never one for convention.

The office door swings open and a smiling middle-aged woman in a cardigan beckons you both inside. “Y/N? Lando? I’m Dr. Ramanujan, please come in.”

Lando shoots you a mischievous grin and you can’t help but return it as you follow the therapist into her office. This is already off to a delightfully silly start.

“So,” Dr. Ramanujan settles into her chair, notepad at the ready. “What brings you two in today?”

You open your mouth but Lando beats you to it. “Well doc, it’s like this — Y/N and I have been together for five years now but things have gotten … sticky, you might say.”

You fight back a surprised laugh at his casual lie. Five years? You met this lunatic ten days ago.

Nodding solemnly, you play along. “Yes, unfortunately some issues have arisen that we haven’t been able to resolve on our own.”

“I see,” the therapist jots something down. “And what would you say is the primary issue troubling your relationship?”

Lando strokes his chin in mock contemplation. “You know, now that I think about it, we really struggle with intimacy.”

You splutter, cheeks flushing red. He did not just go there on a first date!

“We’re very passionate people,” he continues effortlessly. “But I think we both have some hang-ups that stop us from really connecting, you know?”

Clearing your throat, you decide to steer into the skid. “Yes, you could say Lando is quite … insatiable in that area.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyebrows shoot up but she simply nods. “I see, I see. And how does that make you feel, Y/N?”

“Honestly?” You shrug helplessly. “Exhausted. The man is completely relentless — it’s like he’s an animal sometimes!”

Lando clutches his chest in feigned offense. “An animal? That’s a bit much, don’t you think darling?”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you snap, pushing aside your amusement at the increasingly absurd situation. “I’m just calling it like I see it. We’re here for honesty, right?”

“Touché,” Lando turns back to the therapist. “Doc, maybe you could help us find … a compromise of sorts? Because my needs are evidently not being met.”

You scoff loudly. “Not being met? Lando, I let you do that thing with the-”

Mercifully, Dr. Ramanujan interjects before you can continue that train of thought. “Perhaps we could steer our discussion in a more productive direction? Intimacy issues often stem from deeper underlying problems within a relationship. Is there anything else concerning you both?”

Lando ponders this for a moment before snapping his fingers. “You know what? I think a big part of it is that Y/N doesn’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you?” You echo incredulously. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I Flirt With My Teammate Constantly!“

His jaw drops perfectly. “You’re bringing Oscar into this? That’s a low blow, babe.”

“I’m not blind!” You shoot back, doing your best to ignore how silly you both must look. “I see how cozy you two get. Tell me there’s nothing there and I’m a fool!”

“Woah, woah!” Lando holds up his hands defensively. “Oscar and I are just good friends and teammates. Nothing more.”

You cross your arms stubbornly. “If you say so.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Dr. Ramanujan seems perplexed by your crazy banter.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Right. Well, it sounds like there are some potential trust issues at play here that we should unpack-”

“Oh I’ll unpack it for you, doc!” Lando interjects, real passion entering his voice now. “Y/N is massively, astronomically insecure about our relationship. She questions my faithfulness at every turn!”

You swivel to face him fully, eyes wide. “And why, pray tell, would I possibly be insecure about that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve never given you a single real reason to doubt me!”

“Except for all the pet names and inappropriate touching with Oscar!”

“Those are just friendly gestures!”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy!”

The two of you are practically shouting at each other now, completely absorbed in your make-believe argument. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a bit bad for putting the poor therapist through this, but you’re having far too much fun to stop.

Dr. Ramanujan finally cuts in, raising her palms. “Okay! Okay, let’s all just take a breath, shall we?”

You and Lando freeze mid-rant, remembering where you are. He shoots you a conspiratorial wink and you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile.

“Now,” the therapist continues once the tension has diffused slightly. “Clearly there are some deep-seated resentments and triggers being hit here that we need to unravel. But I think a lot of it comes back to the intimacy and trust issues we were discussing earlier. Y/N, would you say you feel emotionally fulfilled by Lando?”

You ponder this for a moment, drawing out the suspense. Lando watches you with bated breath.

Finally, you sigh deeply. “No doc, I can’t say that I do. And maybe that’s why I’ve been so tempted to stray myself ...”

Lando’s jaw drops perfectly again. “You’ve been tempted to cheat? With who?”

Holding his gaze boldly, you declare: “My yoga instructor, actually.”

“Shane?” He looks like you just slapped him. “But he’s so … so bland!”

You shrug nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract sometimes.”

Dr. Ramanujan looks like she’s watching a tennis match, unable to get a word in edgewise.

Lando points an accusatory finger at you. “This is unbelievable! You had the audacity to blame me for the intimacy issues earlier when all this time you’ve been lusting after another man?”

“I’m a woman of insatiable needs!” You cry, borrowing his phrasing from earlier. “You said it yourself!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He turns desperately back to the therapist. “Please doc, you have to help us!”

She blinks owlishly a few times before finding her voice. “I … I’m not sure I can be of much assistance here.”

Lando clutches at his chest dramatically. “No, don’t say that! Our relationship is hanging by a thread as it is.”

“If it’s even still a relationship,” you mumble darkly, inspecting your nails with affected nonchalance.

“You see?” Lando pleads with the doctor. “This is what I’m dealing with every day! The constant barbs and lack of trust! I’m at my wit’s end.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyes dart between the two of you, seeming to deflate a little more after each deranged declaration. She sets her notepad aside with a resigned sigh.

“Listen, you two ...” she begins carefully. “While I appreciate you being upfront about your ...” she pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “unique situation, I’m afraid it goes well beyond my abilities as a therapist.”

You simply blink at her innocently while Lando dissolves into feigned hysterics beside you.

“But you have to help us!” He cries, flinging himself backwards dramatically. “Our relationship is the only thing I have left!”

You can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics, quickly disguising it as a cough when the therapist shoots you a look. Dr. Ramanujan just shakes her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, but I clearly don’t have the tools or expertise to assist with … whatever this is.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “My advice would be to seek a different form of counseling. Or perhaps … separate for a while until you both figure out what you want.”

Lando clutches at his chest, feigning heartbreak. “Separate? Doc, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am,” Dr. Ramanujan states firmly, rising from her chair. “This session has become … unproductive, to put it mildly. I think we should call it a day.”

You open your mouth to protest staying in character, but the defeated look on the poor therapist’s face gives you pause. With a sidelong glance at Lando, you decide to put her out of her misery.

Rising from your own seat, you loop your arm through Lando’s and favor the bewildered doctor with your most winning smile.

“You’re probably right, doc. We’ll, uh, take some time and really think things over. Thanks for your … insight today.”

Dr. Ramanujan simply nods, seemingly too drained to even reply as she opens the door and gestures you both through.

The second you’re out in the hallway, you can’t contain your laughter anymore. You dissolve into a fit of giggles, doubling over and clutching at Lando’s arm for support. He joins in instantly, that mischievous grin stretched wide across his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasp between peals of laughter. “Did you see her face when I brought Oscar into it?”

“I thought she was going to kick us out then and there!” Lando howls, wiping away a mirthful tear. “The things we put that poor woman through ...”

You finally manage to regain your composure, still grinning madly at the ridiculousness of it all. Leave it to Lando to come up with a first date idea as wonderfully insane as fake couples therapy.

“We should do something normal for our next date,” you quip, shooting him a sly look. “Like go skydiving or swimming with sharks.”

Lando matches your playful tone, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meander away from the office. “Whatever you say, darling. Just promise me you won’t leave me for one of the skydiving instructors, yeah?”

You pull him closer with a laugh. “No promises, babe.”

[dream-with-a-fever]

ron weasley did not

come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadn’t been replying to any of his letters and he was worried

almost back out of following the spiders bc they’re his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermione’s empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go

defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood

constantly worry about hermione’s workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared

offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters

defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemort’s return

stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to kill us first!” to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer

gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas

stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)

beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to “leave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!”

always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if it’s in subtle ways

immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world

write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)

encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it

help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch

have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos

worry about harry’s preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him

remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good night’s sleep when she’s studying 24/7 for their owl exams

display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together

get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay

realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)

be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone else’s’ lives with the humour he brings to

write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesn’t think he’ll received any

go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought

go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought

run to hermione’s aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snape’s classroom and take her to the hospital wing

help hermione with buckbeak’s appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case

extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabber’s “death” and apologising, after which she then apologises too

demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help

choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability

stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends

save harry’s life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux

remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety

continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him

become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)

single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers

try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him

sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harry’s survival was more important than his

for y’all to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes

[wilwheaton]

The Republicans, curiously, find themselves in the same position the Democrats were in following the last debate. Trump is seen as old, out of touch and delusional. When Harris mentioned that Trump was still having “a hard time processing” the fact that he lost the last election, to many people she was speaking directly to a loss of mental capacity. “World leaders are laughing at you,” she said to his face. Dictators, “would eat you for lunch,” she chided. And then, she used his own catchphrase against him when she said “81 million people fired you.” He was a crushed lunatic. A cornered sewer rat. She reminded everyone that 200 former Republicans, including some of the highest members of the former Trump administration had endorsed her. He could only lamely say they were all bad people.

“We did not do well”: MAGA admits Kamala Harris broke Donald Trump

[decentwritings]

Chapter 1

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

next part

The game you were playing was beginning to bore you. The music wasn't even all that and your butt feels sore after sitting on these steps for the last three hours. A couple of drunk teenagers stumble by you again and you can't help but scoff in annoyance.

The extra battery pack you brought was dead and you had about seventeen percent left on your phone. You knew the idea of bringing a backpack was smart, but what was stupid was not bringing an extra charger.

You're stuck here as designated driver for your roommate and her friends. You got the short end of the stick because Anika claims she wants you to get along with her girlfriend. Something about her girlfriend having trust issues with people she doesn't know.

You can't even recall her name.

Miranda? Martha? Melinda?

It starts with an M.

Also, she kicked your ass in ten games of rock-paper-scissors.

The last hour there have been people coming out, not coming in anymore. The costumes were sad this year, and that's coming from someone who doesn't even celebrate. You think you saw one of Anika's friends as a slutty pirate? Maybe it was just a regular pirate; either way, it was lacking creativity.

She is pretty, though.

“Hey!”

You pick your head up, eyebrows connecting at the random outburst. You look around, suddenly aware no one else is sober enough or free to pay attention. So this woman must be calling you out.

And stupidly, you point at yourself and ask, “Me?”

The woman stalks over, and you stand, ready to fight to defend yourself. You lift your fists up but then they fall to your side at the taser in her hand.

“Where's my sister?” She asks, the taser sparks and you can't seem to find an escape with the house pressing against your back.

“I...I don't know,” you stutter, eyes on the taser and watching it move as she speaks.

“Let me through.”

You jump over the ledge and fall into the bushes, allowing the woman entrance to the home. You fall with a thud and groan, spitting leaves out of your mouth in the process. When you stand, the couple making out by the bushes stare at you with a mix of concern and irritation.

“Joker, Black Widow,” you say, stumbling out of the bush with a grunt. “Nice crossover. As you were,” you brush the remaining leaves off your clothes.

You attempt to enter the home, to warn Anika and her friends of some lunatic with a taser. But that same lunatic comes out with Anika and her friends in tow.

Anika tugs you along with her as they stalk out of the property. You groan at the pull, the grip she has on you is causing a pinching pain.

“My car!” you shout, glancing back at your parked car in the distance.

“We'll get it later,” Anika mutters, releasing you a second later.

The lunatic, who you learned is named Sam, shouts after the sister she was looking for, Tara. You follow behind with your shoulders slumped, solemn at the thought of your car parked in a street you don't know.

You're unaware of the group stopping to watch the sisters argue and you continue sulking past them. Hands tucked in your pockets, you kick a rock gently, turning and stopping in your tracks.

You regret ever allowing Anika to convince you to be designated driver. You're going to ask for a change of roommate when you get back.

But it goes to the back of your mind when you overhear someone behind you say, “is that the murderer?”

You raise a brow and look at the voice, tilting your head when you lock eyes with the stranger. And the stranger is throwing something at Sam before you can even comprehend her words.

“Murderer!”

The liquid hits Sam dead on, angering the older woman and unleashing the built up anger she most likely held back during the argument with her sister. Chad has to grab ahold of Sam then Tara to avoid a bigger fight from occurring.

Something in you shouts to get away from these people. It's a loud voice that you know belongs to your parents, who always told you to stay away from the wrong crowd. And maybe, this is what they meant by wrong crowd.

You stay back as they all walk away, just a few feet away from a sad, soaked and tired Sam. You exhale a breath, waiting for Ethan to walk away from his awkward interaction with the older woman. You take off your backpack and unzip it to grab the towel you packed.

While your parents raised you to run from danger, they also taught you manners. You step up to Sam cautiously, extending the towel towards her slowly.

Sam looks between you and the towel. It takes her a minute to decide if she can trust you, or maybe trust the towel. You aren't sure, but you reassure her. "It's better than whatever was on the napkins Ethan gave you," you shrug.

Sam takes the towel, or rather snatches it. She doesn't say anything, and you take that as her silently telling you to leave her alone. You turn and walk the other direction, away from the group. For once, you're listening to your parents' advice.

You decide it's a good night to be away from your roommate. So you head to your cousin's place, knowing his place was just a few blocks away. That way, you could wake up and pick up your car on your way back to your dorm.

You text your cousin to warn him of your presence at his apartment, to avoid interrupting any activities occurring. He texts back informing you he was on his way there, too, to wait for him by the door.

You hear a chuckle to your left a few minutes after arriving to his apartment building. As he gets closer, he points to the name tag on your shirt.

“Dennis?” He asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

You shrug. “The party I was at wouldn't let me stay if I didn't have a costume,” you wait patiently for him to unlock the door.

You follow him in, listening to him as he speaks. “And they allowed the fake name tag as a costume?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

You pause at the entrance, freezing when you see Sam at the bottom of the stairwell. You face your cousin with wide eyes. “I'm being followed,” you whisper, eyes filled with panic.

He looks behind you and locks eyes with Sam. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Head on up, I'll meet you there,” he tells you, handing you his keys.

You pause and stare at him like he's crazy, but don't question it, snatching the keys from his hands. You practically sprint past Sam, but pause at the first step to tell your cousin, “she's got a taser, Danny.” you warn him.

Sam glances back at you with narrowed eyes. You scurry off without another word.

You aren't sure how long you wait for your cousin, hoping he's still alive. All you know is, when he does return, you run up to him and immediately ask questions.

“How do you know taser girl?” You ask first, unaware of his worried state. You follow him into his kitchen, questions still flying out of your mouth. “How long have you known taser girl? Did she always live in this building? Why are people calling her a murderer? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?” You ask when you finally notice his state.

Danny leans against the counter. “She's leaving,” he mumbles, as if he is just now realizing this.

You raise a brow. “What?”

Danny looks at you, and he thinks about all the possible outcomes of telling you the truth. Sam may have passed over a little of her skepticism to him. He's found himself questioning everyone's intentions at times, even at the smallest things like when his coworker ask him to pass him the salt one day at lunch.

“Sam is the girl I'm seeing,” Danny finally says, a weight falling off his shoulders after the words come out of his mouth. All you do is raise a brow. “We've been keeping it secret from her sister and her friends...”

“And me apparently,” you mutter.

Danny sends you an apologetic look, then he sighs sadly. “She's leaving,” he says again. “There was a murder of some students at Blackmore, your school.”

You frown. “Lucky bastards,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest childishly.

Danny's expression goes blank, a deadpan look crossing his face. He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“It was a joke,” you say, eyes casting down to avoid his look. “What's the big deal of the murder anyway? It's New York. People die. We move on. It's the circle of life.”

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, your parents really did shield you from the world,” he mutters, huffing a breath afterward. “Do you watch the news? Check the internet–do you even know who Sam Carpenter is?” He asks you after a beat.

You shrug. “Relative of Jesus? I don't know, Danny– can't you just tell me instead of having me guess?” You give up, patience gone along with your interest in his love life.

And so Danny begins to explain, about Sam Carpenter's past. He tells you she's not just anyone—and you think he was going drone on about how amazing she is but no, he tells you she's tied to a dark legacy, one that involves a string of murders that happened in Woodsboro. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, one of the original killers from those infamous Ghostface murders.

You don't watch the news, so he has to explain the Woodsboro murders. He tells you there's movies about it and you remind him you don't watch horror movies. It leads to a long argument of what movie genre is the best–man, ADHD is in everyone in the family.

Your head spins as Danny returns to his explanation. And you try to piece it all together, figuring out the whole relative thing, the murders and the murderers. You decide to suck it up and watch the Stab movies when you get the time.

Right now, you have bigger things to think about. “Wait, you're telling me your girlfriend is related to some psychopath who went on a killing spree? And people think she might be involved in this new murder at Blackmore?”

Danny looks exhausted but nods. “That's why they're calling her a murderer. She's been trying to escape all of this, but it's followed her here.”

You scoff. “Man, you know how to pick 'em,” you laugh gently, going back to the living room to sit on the couch.

Danny follows behind you, glaring.

You sink into the couch, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. Geez,” you mutter. “So you're dating a woman who might be the next Ghostface? Or worse, the target of another psycho?”

Danny shrugs, taking a seat beside you on the couch, shaking his head. “She's not the killer. I know her. She's just... trying to live a normal life. But people won't let her. You saw what happened tonight.”

You groan and lean back. “Great. Now I'm stuck in the middle of some horror movie drama.”

Danny frowns at that, worry lines deepening on his face. “Listen, just stay out of it, okay?”

“Believe me, I'm trying,” you huff.

“Sam's trying to leave all this behind. She's not dangerous. Just... misunderstood,” Danny defends.

You're quiet for a while, processing. “So, what now? She's leaving, but what about you?”

He shrugs, looking defeated. “I don't know. Maybe it's better this way.”

You let out a long sigh, not sure what to think anymore. Everything seems so absurd, like you've just been pulled into some twisted movie plot. “This better not end with me getting stabbed,” you mutter, half-joking but half-serious.

Danny gives you a tired smile. “I'll make sure it doesn't.” But his tone doesn't inspire much confidence, and you're left wondering just how deep this whole thing goes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you assume it's your mom checking in on you. You had told her of your plans and she was adamant of you not going to the party. You should have listened.

You also shouldn't have picked up the phone.

“Sweet mother,” you answer the phone, grinning at your cousin. He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips tells you he found it funny.

You expect an answer but nothing comes. You look at your phone screen and tilt your head at the lack of caller ID on it.

“Hello?” You say, waiting for some kind of response.

“Hello, Dennis,” your eyebrows raise, looking at your cousin. “Welcome to the party. Are you having fun?”

You pause to really think of an honest answer for the question. The voice isn't one you recognize, then again, this person did call you by your fake name; he may not know you either.

“Well, not really,” you reply, shoulders sagging as you continue, “and I'm not Dennis. You either got the wrong number or you assume my name is Dennis 'cause you saw me at the party.”

“Oh but I have the right number,” the voice responds, almost giddily.

“Who is it?” Danny whispers, scooting closer to you.

You wave him off, listening to them continue.

“Your cousin thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?” The voice says, menacingly. “Always two steps ahead. But he'll never see me coming. Neither of you will,” then the line goes dead.

You shake your head when you hear the tone signaling the end of the call. You huff and drop your phone to your lap. Danny waits for you to explain the call.

“Some dude called,” you start, nonchalantly. “Said we're not gonna see him coming.”

Danny's eyes widen, standing to grab his phone in the kitchen. You're lost at his sudden rush and concern, following him slowly. He has his phone pressed to his ear, waiting anxiously for someone to answer.

He slams his phone on the counter a few seconds later. He grabs his keys then turns to you. “Let's go. I need your help.”

He doesn't explain and you stupidly follow him, wondering what exactly he needs help with. When you exit the apartment building, he turns to you, eyes wide, frantic, and filled with worry.

“Can you handle this?”

“Handle what? You haven't explained anything,” you reply, an unsettling feeling growing in your gut. “You're freaking me out, Danny.”

“We have to split up, but don't stop looking over your shoulder,” he grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his frantic eyes. “These GhostFace fanatics are freaks and you have to watch out for yourself. Can you handle this?”

The look on your cousin's face worries you, but your need to always help him—because he's always helped you, no matter what—makes you decide. You nod, confident and determined. You want your cousin to know he can count on you, just like you can count on him.

Not that you ever expected to chase after a killer to help your girlfriend. You're pretty sure you'd never get in a situation like this. You don't have fight in you; only flight.

But hell, if Danny needs you to search for that inner fight, you'll do it for him.

“You go that way, I'll go this way,” he points to the left then the right. “You knocked me out once when we were younger, think you can do that to a freak in a mask?”

You stare at him blankly. “I was ten and hyped up on sugar,” he sighs, regret crossing his face for bringing you into this. You shake your head, wanting to reassure him. “I got a knife,” you say as you pull out the box cutter your brother gave you for work.

Danny stares at it but doesn't comment. “Be careful,” he says, lifting his phone. “And call when you find them.”

You raise your hand to your forehead, saluting. He sprints off after doing a quick look around your surroundings. You do the same, gripping the box cutter in your hand like a lifeline.

You peek into every alley before passing it, making sure there isn't anyone lurking. You're not exactly sure how far you are from Danny's apartment when you reach the bodega at the corner. You come to a slow stop as several people run screaming out of the store.

“Please be a robbery,” you mutter, summoning the courage to fight instead of run. You bounce on your feet a few times, hyping yourself up before you finally walk up to the bodega's doors.

A bell chimes when you open the door, and the scene before you immediately makes you rethink your bravado.

GhostFace turns with the shotgun pointed at you. You've seen the mask before at stores, and you find it ridiculous that people are using a Halloween costume as a way to kill people.

“Wrong store, I'll come back late—”

You duck just in time to avoid the bullet and crawl toward the closest thing you can find for cover. You've played enough video games to know how to survive someone shooting at you.

You press your back against the shelf, heart pounding as you catch your breath. The bodega aisles stretch out in front of you, offering minimal coverage. You glance at the door–running seems like a bad idea. You could make a run for it, but you know bullets fly faster than you run.

His footsteps echo throughout the bodega, slow and deliberate; like he has all the time in the world. But he can't be stupid, someone must have called 911 by now. Right?

You peek around the shelf, catching a glimpse of the mirror hanging from the ceiling. You watch it to see what direction GhostFace is walking to. You see him step over a body, and you're aware it was cashier who probably tried to play hero.

Then, you see them and you roll your head in annoyance. Danny was not lying. Her past follows her so of course Sam and Tara are here, hiding from the freak in the mask.

“I could be in bed,” you mumble, looking at the shelf you're hiding behind for something to use. “But noooo...the one time you rebel against your parents' wishes, you get stuck in some shitty fanfiction a weirdo is writing,” you grab a can, then a jar of olives.

You glance at the mirror, GhostFace is steps away from discovering Sam and Tara so you don't even acknowledge Sam's attempt to get your attention–you toss the can towards the door. He quickly turns and reacts with shooting a nonexistent figure.

You stand now that his back was turned, lifting your arm to throw the jar at his head. As the jar flies in the air, you whistle to get his attention and timed it well to hit him square in the face. The shotgun falls out of his hands and you shout at the sisters to run.

They don't need to be told twice. Sam grabs Tara's arm, pulling her along as they run out of the store. You can hear sirens in the distance but you keep your eyes on GhostFace, who finally regains his composure. He looks out the bodega's windows and sees the flashing lights, then looks back at you with a look that tells you he is not happy.

He runs away and disappears towards the back, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

Did you just face off with a murderer?

You exit the store with your hands up, not wanting the cops to assume you're a threat. Either way, you're handled roughly by an officer as he grips your hands to cuff.

Sam and Tara appear out of nowhere, pulling you out of the replay of the events that occurred in the store. You blink, feeling the cuffs bite your wrists with a tight pinch.

“Stop, they helped us,” Sam says first, voice firm as she glares at the officer. Tara doesn't wait long to support her statement.

“Helped how?” The officer asks, eyeing you and now them suspiciously. Still, he doesn't even loosen his grip on your wrists.

“New York's finest,” you mumble with a head shake. You grimace when his grips tightens. “Oww,” you drawl out.

“They distracted GhostFace long enough for us to get out,” Tara adds, sending you a warning glare to keep your mouth shut. You duck your head, pursing your lips into a thin line. “If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gotten out,” she jumps to your defense again.

The officer eyes you all, eyes squinting as he stares. He grunts then, “wait here.”

“Am I under arrest?” You asks as he walks away. You groan at his lack of response.

You tap your foot, aware of the presence of the sisters. You can feel the tension from the Carpenters without even looking at them. The last time you were alone with Sam, you ended up in a bush. Last time you saw Tara, she was wearing a pirate costume and laughing about it. Now, here you are. Life, huh?

“Nice night,” you mumble, because apparently, you never learn when to keep your mouth shut.

Both sisters look at you, deadpan. If looks could slap, you'd be on the ground. You shut up, but only for a second, because now Danny comes running up, and you know this is going to be great.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Danny hisses, eyes darting between you and the sisters.

“Saved your girlfriend,” you snarl, feeling deeply insulted that he automatically assumes you did something stupid. Danny freezes, eyes widening in horror at the worst-kept secret in the room.

You walk up to the officer as makes his way over to you. “Please say I'm under arrest,” you practically plead, wanting to escape from this reality.

The officer shakes his head, signaling for you to turn around. You do as you're told, feeling him unlock the cuffs from around your wrists. The stares from the three of them make you shift uncomfortably, keeping your head down until you're able to feel your wrists, holding them against your chest to soothe the ache.

Tara snaps her neck towards her sister, her gaze sharp. “Girlfriend?” she asks, voice icy.

Sam winces, like she knew this was coming. “Not now, Tara,” she nods in the direction a detective walking over to them.

The man smiles crookedly, stepping up to them almost awkwardly. “Care to explain?” He starts, then looks between you and Danny. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm detective Bailey.”

“Danny,” your cousin introduces himself, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a tension between them and he feels it thickening with each second passing.

Bailey turns to you. You tap on the fake name tag still on your shirt. “Dennis,” you lie, earning yourself an elbow to your side. You glare at Danny before returning to look at the detective. “Y/N,” you mumble, huffing.

Bailey nods, then sighs as his gaze returns to the Carpenter sisters. “I think you know what I'm going to say,” he says.

Sam nods, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “Let's go then,” she makes her way to the car the detective came in, her sister following.

Danny does the same but you, however, don't move. You didn't sign up for whatever this is. This is your chance to finally step away from this situation. Then, like they all practiced, they turn back to look at you.

“I'm fine here,” you say dismissively. “I appreciate the invite though–”

“Get in the car,” Danny orders with a glare, pointing to the vehicle.

You didn't plan to, you really didn't. But when you look at Tara–when Tara looks back at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer—vulnerability, maybe. For a second, she's not the girl who just stared down a serial killer; she's just... someone who doesn't want to be alone.

That gets you. You barely know the girl but those eyes draw you in. Screw you and your inability to walk away from a pretty girl. You shuffle toward the car, muttering under your breath several complaints.

You squish in the back seat, Tara seated between you and Sam. The drive to the police station drives by the house the whole night started at. You frown at the sight of your car, lonesome and abandoned.

You sigh dramatically, your mind suddenly reminding you of the one thing that truly matters. “Ahh, fuck,” you groan, earning immediate side-eyes from everyone in the car. “I've got a paper due at midnight.”

Danny turns, his expression a perfect blend of exhaustion and disbelief. “Stop talking.”

And for once, you do.

As you approach the police station, the lights flickering in the night like a beacon of both hope and uncertainty, you realize that whatever happens next, you're not alone. You might be just a regular person caught in a slasher film, but now you're part of something bigger. You were here for Danny, and were further dragged in by Tara's doe eyes, and maybe—just maybe—this wild ride will lead to something unexpected. Hell, this may turn out for a good final senior thesis.

You take a deep breath, feeling that flicker of determination ignite within you. No matter how this night ends, you won't let fear hold you back. After all, survival is a team sport, and you're ready to play.

The car rolls to a stop, and as you all step out into the bright lights of the police station, you can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a very messy adventure. But at least you'll face it with someone.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Pretty, isn't it?

Day 6: Song of the wind.

Summary: He made a fool out of himself, but it seemed worth it.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1313

Warnings: fluff, azzie being a shy baby 🥹

A/n: hehehe i hope yall like this as much as i do 🥹 this one doesnt have hazel and kaden because its mostly az trying to impress yn with his peacock feathers (that is me trying to be funny, az doesnt have peacock wings 😭)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

I would be the luckiest male to ever exist if you decided to give me the time of day.

Azriel could not believe it, but that letter had been the one that had convinced Y/n to spend time with him, to get to know him. He had given up after having sent almost fifty letters over the time of two months since he’d seen her first.

He had begun to wonder if he truly was that undesirable that even after those letters and shitty poetry, Y/n did not care.

To her credit, Azriel would have rejected himself too after his pitying attempts at poetry.

In the last letter, he had written everything he could come up with. It had been all over the place, written in the middle of the night after having a dream of Y/n with another male. Maybe Azriel had begun suffocating her, maybe he was pushing her away rather than making her like him. He had told her how the past two months, he had been looking forward to seeing her more than he ever has anyone else in his life. How he cared for her without knowing anything about her, and how he was glad for her existence no matter what.

He had told her that it would be his last letter, and that he would let her be free. He had imposed enough.

But to his surprise, the next morning when he woke up at his desk, back sore and neck bent at an unnatural angle, he was greeted by the sight of a white envelope, sealed with soft pink wax.

The paper inside only consisted of only nine words. Nine words that were able to make the spymaster grin wide, giggle like a schoolgirl and jump around his room, hurrying to get dressed for the day.

Meet me at the bridge over Sidra at noon.

He had only been standing for a few moments before she showed up, in another one of her flowy dresses, small pink flowers printed onto the soft material.

Just the sight of her slightly tilted lips had Azriel’s ears turning red.

She had greeted him normally, like he had not spent the past two months following her around like a lunatic, begging for a moment of her day. And Azriel had been all too happy to go along with it.

Well, he was happily going along with that plan, until he realised the sun was setting and panicked, realising he did not have longer before she decided to go home and he did not yet know whether she liked him enough to decide to bless him by spending another day with him.

So, in his hurry to impress her, he had dragged her to the riverbank.

"I come here when I need to get away from my family. They can be a lot at times."

Y/n smiled, humming. "I hadn’t really thought about them being… I don’t know, like us? I guess I had this image of them being very professional and serious."

Azriel smiled. "They’re the most unhinged people I’ve ever met. Like you know the other day, Cassian jumped on one foot trying to impress his mate, like this-" Azriel did the same thing Cassian had done, hopping around on one leg and spreading his wings to balance himself- "and then he fell into the river."

Y/n chuckled, her eyes sparkling. Seeing the tilt of her lips, Azriel couldn’t help but grin back. The wind picked up, the song he was so familiar with blowing gently around the two of them.

Azriel did not close his wings, too busy staring at the way the wind lifted the edges of Y/n’s hair, the way she closed her eyes for a moment, as if to savour the feeling of it. He didn’t close his wings. He should have. But it was too late.

The membrane of his wings caught the air, sending him stumbling back. His eyes widened, meeting Y/n’s concerned ones before he rushed towards the ground, skiing tingling with the cold river water that enveloped him not moments later.

He sputtered as he resurfaced, frantically searching around for Y/n. He found her bent over herself, eyes closed as laughter erupted from her lips.

His lips twitched in response even as the red of embarrassment took over his features.

At least I could make her laugh. Who cares if she won’t want me after I made a fool of myself?

Azriel struggled to his feet against the strong current, ears filled with the melodious sound of Y/n giggling.

"Are you okay?" She questioned as he finally crawled onto dry land, her eyes sparkling.

Azriel nodded. He did not have words to say. She spared him the struggle.

"It’s getting late. I should go." Perhaps she noticed the way Azriel’s face fell, because she hurried to add. "Do you mind flying me home?"

Instantly, Azriel perked up. "Not at all, I would love to."

Y/n only smiled, stepping closer to him.

Moments later, the two were in the air, despite Azriel’s worries of getting her dress wet. She had assured him that she did not mind.

The instant they were airborne, Azriel realised that Y/n’s eyes were clenched shut, as were her fists against his shoulders. It made him want to giggle in giddiness, but he forced himself to focus on the gentle wind whispering in his ears and not the way she felt in his arms as he squeezed Y/n tight.

She felt like home. She felt like she belonged here, and if she agreed, Azriel would never let go of her, content to spend the rest of eternity holding her.

She opened her eyes, looking at him for a long while before glancing down. A soft gasp of wonder escaped her, and Azriel let himself chuckle.

"It’s pretty, isn’t it?"

She nodded distractedly before glancing at him.

"Does this shock you every time you fly?"

Azriel pondered as her home came into view, a sense of longing beginning to take root in his chest. "I can never get used to the beauty, if that’s what you mean." he paused. "I was not allowed to even spread my wings for the first decade or so of my life, so now every time I take to the skies, I take my time cherishing the sights, the smells and the sounds."

Y/n swallowed as Azriel began descending, her eyes unwavering from his face. She did not avert her eyes, even as he set her down on her porch.

"Thank you for today, Azriel."

Azriel dipped his head, the warmth of his cheeks no longer stemming from embarrassment.

"It was all my pleasure."

Azriel wanted to ask her if she would want to meet with him again, on another outing for just the two of them, but he did not want to force her hand. He already wondered if this one day out was because she pitied him, maybe wanted him to leave her alone. He could not bring himself to ask for more of her precious time. He felt blessed as it was.

But Y/n smiled wide, seeming to have other plans. "Will I see you again?"

Azriel stared back at her, stunned. "I- if you want to see me. I mean I want to see you, but if you don’t want to see me it’s completely fine, I won’t bother you more-"

A soft laugh tickled his ear before he felt her soft lips at his cheek, silencing him effortlessly.

"See you next week then, same day and time. Goodbye Azriel."

She was through her door and into the house before Azriel could recover from the shock.

"Goodbye…" He mumbled, gazing at the painted door.

But no one except his shadows were there to hear his response.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[ddejavvu]

heyyyy! i’m literally in love with you and ur writing. i had a fun idea for aaron hotchner and knew no one could execute it like you! imagine this- aaron and f!reader meet and fall in love but aaron keeps it secret due to not wanting another haley. he likes all of her insta posts and follows her, and reader has a pic with him in it. garcia finds it and goes crazy and looks up reader only to find she has a criminal record for like the stupidest reason- cutting of a cop while driving or smtg! 🫶❤

Aaron isn't often summoned into the lair of the great Penelope Garcia, but he is today. Typically, he walks in himself to talk to her, but at her very stern, 'See me in my office now', he's knocking gently on the door.

"Come in." She calls from inside, voice miles away from its usually bubbly nature.

He feels like their roles have been reversed, the strange urge to keep his gaze guiltily on the ground surfacing in his chest as he opens the door to her office. He shuts the door behind him on reflex, and he's glad he did when she whirls on him, no longer facing her multiple computer monitors.

"You're dating a criminal," She accuses, eyes narrowed. Then, far louder, "You're dating a criminal!"

Aaron winces, peering behind her at the screens. One has your instagram profile pulled up, and another, your mugshot.

"I cannot believe you, Hotch," She berates, "Have you forgotten that you work as a criminal-catcher? I know you work to help the government get these people off of the streets, but that doesn't mean you get to put them in the sheets, you lunatic!"

"Penelope," His voice is stern, and he motions to your mugshot, "Check her charge."

"What?"

"Open her file. Look at what she was arrested for." Hotch instructs, slightly unnerved by the fact that Penelope had correctly assumed he was sleeping with you. Was he too obvious about it? He hadn't been going suspiciously easy on them, he doesn't think, but perhaps he'd been too smiley. Or checked his phone too much. Or clocked a suspiciously low amount of overtime hours this week. Or-

"Oh." Penelope's voice breaks him out of his spiral, and he doesn't need to look at the screen to know what it says: Reckless Driving.

There's a note beneath it though, a subheading: Merged carelessly close in front of a police vehicle.

"She cut them off, it was an accident," Aaron explains, and he watches Penelope's unusually tense shoulder slowly loosen, "I'm not dating a serial killer, Garcia."

"Oh." She repeats, blinking back at your instagram profile, "And- but you are-? You're seeing her?"

Hotch heaves a heavy sigh, knowing the news will spread around the entire office by lunch, "Yes. I am seeing her."

Her lips quirk up in a grin and she watches him with soft eyes, "Good. You should bring her to dinner at Rossi's this Sunday, y'know. I'm sure everyone would love to meet her."

"I might," Aaron's been toying with the idea for a few nights now, but perhaps Penelope will give him the courage he needs to go through with it. He glances up at her from where he'd been scrutinizing the leg of her desk, a barely-there smile curved upon his lips, "But- uh, if I do bring her, I'll drive."

[svndaysaweek]

Addiction and Poisoning — {Feat. Minnie (& Miyeon)}

1.2k words

A/N: It’s been months since the last time I posted something. This might not be the best I’ve written, but I did write something, nevertheless. I’ve been feeling the need to release something, and @i-am-lifeform24 thankfully gave me a precious opportunity to write something!!! So I’m posting it here too. Check out other fics from the ‘Curated Companions’ also!

*Drug use, choking, bondage, a bit of angst(…?)

******

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu. 

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone. 

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. The latter is because it tastes rather different. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit. 

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion. 

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar. 

Was it the whiskey after all? 

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts. 

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face. 

“Seems the potion worked very well…” Minnie whispers in Miyeon’s ear, quiet enough for it not to make it to your ears.

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

A/N.2: Check replies!

[p0orbaby]

Slow Motion Mountain Climber

summary: leah signs up for pilates, what could go wrong?

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 981

-

Leah texts you on a Tuesday morning, right before your alarm, like she does whenever something has gone terribly wrong in her life. Like when she found out gluten was in soy sauce, or when she discovered she might have to use that godforsaken 6 train in New York. This time, it's a message that reads: Just signed up for Pilates. You may never see me again.

You roll your eyes, groaning at the incoming rant that's sure to follow. Leah's the kind of person who only does new things for one of two reasons: someone dared her, or she's trying to prove to herself that she is still young and can get away with eating three chocolate croissants in a single sitting. You suspect it’s a combination of both. She’s mentioned something about trying to build a "strong core," which you assume is code for "I'm slowly being bullied into this by the fact that all my teammates have six-packs and I have a soft spot for bread."

At 7:45 AM, just as you’re pouring coffee, Leah calls. You pick up on the third ring because you’re not a monster.

“I’m going to die,” she says, without so much as a hello

“Bold start to the day,” you reply. “Anything specific, or is it just a general feeling?”

“Pilates,” she says, and it sounds like a curse word. “Do you know what that is?”

You almost spit out your coffee because, yes, you know what Pilates is. You’re not sure what’s more shocking: that Leah doesn’t know or that she actually followed through on signing up.

“Yeah, Leah, I know what Pilates is”

“Well, it’s hell. No one told me it was this hard. And the instructor—she’s, like, smiling at me while she’s killing me. How are you supposed to trust someone who's trying to make you do something called a 'teaser' while she grins like a lunatic?”

You can picture it now. Leah, in the middle of a room full of people who've been doing this since their nannies signed them up for ballet at age three, contorting herself on a reformer like it’s some kind of medieval torture device. Meanwhile, the instructor—probably named something like Tiffani with an 'i'—is telling her to “engage her core,” as if Leah didn’t already have a job that required her to do that for 90 minutes straight, several times a week.

“Did you die, though?”

“Almost. My legs were shaking. My abs—I didn’t even know I had abs. Why does anyone do this willingly? I’ve literally been fouled by Fran Kirby, and that was less painful”

“Maybe you should stick to yoga”

“Yoga!” Leah scoffs. “I can do yoga. That’s just stretching and pretending you’re one with the universe or whatever”

You let her have that one because there’s no use arguing with someone who once mistook a meditation class for an excuse to nap in public.

Leah continues, “This class, though—it's not natural. They make you put your legs in straps. Straps! Like a harness, but for your feet. And then they expect you to lift them while you're suspended in the air like some sort of flying squirrel”

You’ve taken Pilates before, so you know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but laugh. Leah, in her infinite wisdom, probably signed up for the most advanced class because, as she said once, “Go big or go home.” Now, she’s paying for it.

“Maybe you should ask to start in a beginner class,” you suggest, knowing full well she won’t.

“Yeah, no. I already told them I’m an athlete. Can’t back down now. But I swear, if one more person tells me to ‘breathe through it,’ I’m going to punch them in the face”

You imagine the looks on the faces of her Pilates classmates as she throws a fit in the middle of a serene, candle-lit studio. You’ve seen Leah frustrated before, but this is a new level of agitation, and it’s all directed at something she willingly signed up for.

“Maybe it’s good for you,” you offer, “builds character”

“Yeah, and scars. On my pride”

You laugh again because you can see where this is going. Leah, who tackles challenges like they’re personal vendettas, is going to keep going back to that class until she can hold a plank longer than anyone else, even if it kills her. Or, more likely, until she finds something else to distract her, like knitting or extreme ironing.

"I’m just saying," she adds, after a pause, "if I end up with a six-pack, it’s because I earned it. None of this ‘strong core’ bullshit. I want abs of steel. Like, I want to be able to crack a walnut between my ribs”

You’re crying with laughter now, imagining Leah doing sit-ups in front of a mirror at home, testing her progress with various hard-shelled nuts.

“Don’t worry, babe,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “If you do get abs of steel, I’ll make sure to bring walnuts everywhere we go”

“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her finally start to laugh along with you. “You’re on walnut duty. And if this all goes horribly wrong and I never make it out of Pilates alive, just know it was the straps that did me in”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. But maybe next time, start with a class that doesn’t sound like it was designed by someone who secretly hates people”

Leah sighs dramatically. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day lying flat on the floor and cursing Joseph Pilates”

“You do that, babe,” you say, hanging up as you imagine her sprawled out on the carpet, texting you updates about how her muscles are rebelling against her. And you can’t wait to read every single one.

[crusty-chronicles]

is there any chance you could add killua for the airheaded but strong s/o headcanons? If not, then no worries, I just love how you write them!

Yeah, I don't mind but it's gonna be platonic because I'm a little iffy about writing for him romantically. He's just a boy 🥺🥺🥺 This is mostly a crack fic.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Killua (HxH)

Honestly tried to kill you at one point

Oh you're strong huh?

Then proceeds to hit you with everything he's got, only to see that it hardly affected you. (Kinda like the way he first treated Zushi)

After that he's petty, but impressed.

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 You've earned his respect 🥳🥳🥳

You're basically Gon 2.0

And he hates it

Cannot take you two anywhere

"We should break the lock to get in." Gon suggested.

"Are you stupid?" You scoffed.

"What's the point of having a door if you're just gonna break it?"

And Killua is momentarily at peace that at least one of you has some sense. Until you open your mouth again.

"Obviously we should smash open a window."

And Gon is nodding along enthusiastically

"You're right! What would we do without you 🤩"

And Killua is just 😮‍💨.

He is the parent of the group and I will die on this hill

If Gon's the sun, you're a nuke

He's constantly dragging you away from Hisoka

Nope. Not today

Why do you insist on talking to strangers.

No scratch that.

Why do you insist on talking to creepy strangers????

It gives him a massive headache everytime you almost get abducted.

Honestly thought about putting a tracker on you to avoid this happening.

But then he remembers you're practically indestructible so he drops it.

Is afraid Illumi will come for you and hurt you.

He was never allowed to have friends, and after Illumi threatened you and Gon at the Hunter Exam, he's very protective.

But then he remembers something you said after Greed Island.

"The three of us are all gonna become the best of the best. We're gonna get all wrinkly and old together and still kick butt!!! We're gonna stick together no matter what!"

And it temporarily quells the fear of his brother.

It makes him look forward to that outcome and gives him something to fight a little harder for.

When it comes to fighting, he does get a little envious of how you and Gon just rush in without thinking.

And how you always manage to win despite the circumstance.

But he never feels left behind because of it.

Like with Gon, he won't baby you, just call you an idiot and move on.

You fell?

Get up loser.

You can't read?

Find somebody else to translate. Or he'll make you do it and be laughing nonstop while you struggle to pronounce the word "Apple"

"Gon what color's an orange?"

"An orange is the same color as it's name. Just like a lemon."

Please somebody take you two back to first grade.

Killua is begging.

Even though he won't baby you, he'll rush as fast as he can if you're in actual danger.

You got caught by the phantom troupe?

"Are you completely brain dead!?!!? Where are you!?!?"

Now he regrets not putting a tracker on you.

"This nice clown man gave me candy and told me to follow him." You tell him over CALL.

"HISOOKAAAAA!!!!"

He is screaming and panicking.

You trespassed into the mountains his family lives to see him.

"WHY???? DON'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MIKE!?!?"

And when he gets there he sees you rubbing the monstrous canine's tummy. Petting him and calling him a "Good Boy."

Names he has called you out of spite: Idiot, Moron, Dummy, Psycho, Airhead, Ditz, and probably Pea Brain

On the bright side, you are Alluka's favorite person.

"Give me your ribs."

"Oh, are you hungry? Let's see if we can't find you a smokehouse for those ribs."

And it baffles both souls so much that Nanika accepts that as fulfilling her command.

Plus you have endless amounts of energy that works to drain both girls out. Even when they've both already swapped twice.

Killua designates you her official babysitter when he's busy.

You are a complete lunatic and moron, but you're one of the people he trusts the most.

Even if he does complain about you a lot.

MASTERLIST

[sophsicle]

okay probably actually what i should do is delete tiktok. i am truly the master of my own misery here and i know that. it is in my power to remove myself from the presence of the content i find so infuriating and yet i consistently choose not to. BUT. like. what is with this new obsession with canon? like someone explain? i have seen like 3 tiktoks (and ill be honest it really only takes one 2 get me ranting at my empty bedroom like a lunatic) where people are out here complaining about how fandom is mischaracterizing the marauders and how knowing canon is the bare minimum work someone needs to do to make a headcanon which. like. who are you people and why has the concept of silly fun eluded you??????? the bare minimum work??? bro. if someone wants to write a story about some lil wizard guys and all they know is that they are some lil wizard guys and they have never picked up an HP book or watched a movie THEY SHOULD DO IT. and it wont ruin anything. the fandom will be fine. it'll be chillin. heck, maybe it'll even enjoy this baseless story. there are no mischaracterizations in fandom, a space in which the whole purpose is for people to be creative with the source material, there are just characterizations you like and ones you don't. if you want nothing but word for word what JKR has written that's weird but go off king, u should go read her then and stop making it everyone else's problem. like. stop making up rules you fascists. fandom is anarchy. nobody has to know anything or do anything or follow any other rule besides don't be a mean guy.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.9 K Warnings: flashbacks to THAT NIGHT. Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 67: What’s On My Mind

“Hey, hey!” Remus said as he tried to catch up with you. “Wait, Luv, please.” 

You turned around to look at him. He had hastily left the potion on the table and followed right behind. “Sorry,” you muttered, as he caught up with you. You were already a few metres away from the door. 

“What he said,” Rem started, “It’s not true.” He’d been listening in to the entire conversation as he packed things. 

“It feels true,” you said bitterly. “I mean, when you actually think about all the things that happened that night; if I had stayed with Reggie, my mother would be alive.” 

“You would have never allowed them to torture Nina. No one in their right mind would.” 

“But back then, I was the only one in the right mind, which is the same as being the only crazy one.” 

“What?” he asked, slightly confused.

“Perhaps a lunatic is simply a minority of one… He might be alone in holding that belief, and if alone, then a lunatic,” you quoted.  

“That’s…” he said as he stared at you and then muttered, “from 1984.” He then turned back to look at you, and almost accusingly he said, “I gave you that book!” 

“Exactly!” you retorted. “If I hadn’t done anything, only one would be dеad.” 

“If you hadn’t done anything, you wouldn’t be able to live with that choice.” 

“But I can barely cope with the one I made anyway!” You said, a little louder this time. Tears were prickling your eyes. 

“If you could turn back time, would you let it happen?” 

“I wouldn’t have caused the fire. I would have thought of something else, I could have–”  Remus pulled you into a hug before you continued to ramble about it. “I’m sorry,” you said. Not needing Rem to repeat the words he’d already told you. 

In a different situation, you might have never gotten out of there alive.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry,” you repeated as you hugged him a little tighter. “It’s just… I miss them.” 

“I know,” he said as he held you a little closer. He looked back at the door, and he saw some other students leaving the classroom as well, he knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you crying, so he nudged you softly. “Come, let’s go somewhere else.” 

“Yeah, okay,” you said as you separated from the hug and blinked away some of the tears that had stubbornly fallen from your eyes. You still hated crying in front of people, but it was, for some reason, much easier to cry in front of Remus and Sirius than it was to cry in front of anyone else. 

Remus walked you to one of the seemingly infinite secret passages of the school, and the two of you started walking towards the little nook with the fireworms. 

“It feels a little lonely now that they’re not here,” you said as you looked at the empty house you’d built for them.

“I know,” he said as he too looked at the emptiness. He wasn’t sure if you meant Nina and your Mother or Pyro and Nummie. 

After the prank, the professors called in an expert to relocate all the fireworms into a special place in the forest where they could continue to grow, undisturbed. Some 7th-year students who wanted to go for magizoology were the only ones allowed to visit them. And although Jennifer Folly, from the reading club, was attending them, you hadn’t had time to ask her if she’d let you visit Pyro, after all, reading club reunions were only twice a month, and you wouldn’t see them until the end of the month. Not to mention everyone was still shaken about what’d happened. 

You stared at the empty spot a little longer, thinking back of the amorentia you’d made, and then you started laughing. Remus turned to you with a slightly worried expression. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” you said as you waved your hand to reassure him. “It’s just– I was thinking of our potion.” 

“And you think it’s funny?” 

“I’m just wondering if I would have figured out I was into you after smelling it or if I would have still been ridiculously blind to my feelings for you.” 

“You would have been confused,” he said. “It took me some time to accept I liked two people at the same time.” 

“Yeah, or perhaps I would have continued in denial. I mean I should have known after the SlugParty. I didn’t stop ogling you all night, I thought it was the potion I saved James from, but I never ogled James or Lily, and we both know they’re hella attractive as well.” 

“How would you even deny amortentia?” 

“Probably would have assumed it was an animagus thing, or the fact that Sirius smells like you half the time.” 

“You think?” He asked with an eyebrow rise. “You never actually told me what you were thinking about that night.” 

“And you never told me what was on Sirius’ drawing that made you have the reaction you did,” you retorted in the same suggestive tone. The way he cleared his throat was enough for you to know he was at least a little nervous.

“You didn’t ask him?” he asked, as calmly as he could. 

“Sirius? No.” 

“Well, he’s the one that drew it.” 

“You’re the one with the interesting reaction.” 

“Well, that’s because. I– I thought it was a live portrait,” he stammered. “At least until I realised you had no idea what it might have been.” 

You hummed in return. “And… you’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” 

“The what?” 

“A live portrait.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Perhaps while it’s being made…” 

“You’re unbelievable,” he smiled. “You were all mopey just seconds ago and now you can’t stop teasing me.”

“Perhaps I’m like Tinkerbell, can only hold one emotion at a time,” you said. Although there was a part of you that was conscious that what you were doing was trying to drive your thoughts in a different direction, there was another one that had gone awfully needy after that class. You’d wanted to kiss Remus one too many times while preparing the potion, and now that there was nobody around, deep inside the corridors, you knew you could. 

“I don’t think that applies to normal-sized fae,” he retorted with a smile. “Let alone to a quartered blood one.”

“No?” 

“It’s not in the books.” 

“Maybe you’re not reading the right books.” 

He scoffed, although he was smiling. “That night, what did you think?” 

“Your shirt looked amazing.” 

“Just that?” 

“The way you laughed while dancing was intoxicating. I wished I could see you laugh a lot more often.” 

“I like the way you laugh too,” he admitted. “Did you ever… “ he seemed to think about what he would say next as he licked his lips. “Did you think about kissing me?” 

“I thought of much more than just kissing you,” you teased. “And when we came back to sleep, with Sirius on the bed too. It was almost overwhelming.” 

“Imagine what I felt every single night,” he retorted. 

“Did it–” you lowered your gaze. “Did it feel like torture?” 

“Never,” he retorted. “But I was always craving for more.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.” 

“I’m happy you noticed now,” he said before pulling you into a kiss. A hungry kiss, the likes of which Remus had never given you. But you were kissing back with as much hunger. There was certainly something about inhaling so much amorentia that affected you both who were already rather sensible to the way things smelled.

He was hungry, but his hands on your face were soft. For someone so strong, to hold you with such tenderness, it had you melting under his touch. He smelled of a combination of potion ingredients and his natural smell, the one you’d gotten in Amortentia, and was only driving you closer to him. There was something magical about the way he kissed you, it made everything else slip from your mind. Much like Sirius’ kisses, they were like a gentle potion made of Lethe Water. Soft, tender and mind-numbing like dream sand. 

But unlike dream sand, it was also exhilarating, exciting and arousing. Kindling a need for more, for his lips in you, for your lips on him, for everything. And it was addicting. Every time you kissed him, you wanted to kiss him again, and again, and again, until your lips were raw and he was delirious with the numbingness that your very kiss brought to him as well. There was something about how much he’d waited for the kisses, to be able to press his lips against yours. Surviving of the sole memory of how soft they’d been, of the pressure of not being able to have you because Sirius was there glueing you onto his lap, glueing you onto him. 

From the moment he met you he’d known Sirius liked you, which is why it had been torturous to slowly fall for you, in the same way it had been to fall for Sirius, desperate for your lips while kissing any other that offered a chance. 

But things were different now, and he loved how different they’d become. Remus had placed one of his hands under your shirt, resting his thumb just above the hem of the skirt and feeling your warm skin when the two of you heard something clash in the hallway. 

You instantly pulled apart from the kiss, and then heard another clash, like something had fallen on the floor. You looked at Remus with a frown and lit your wand as you silently exchanged a look. A small nod and a serious gaze. He tilted his head to the side just slightly and the two of you walked towards the source of the sound. It was a simple movement, but you were so attuned to his movements after so many nights of sneaking around with the marauders, that it was as if he was telling you the words themselves.

You’d been both rather worried, your hearts beating loudly against your chest and not only because of the kissing. You remained alert, not wanting anyone to discover what you’d been doing since it would have only caused further trouble –as if what Severus had seen hadn’t been enough. 

You walked together, shoulder to shoulder. Your wand illuminating the way, he’s ready to defend or attack in case whatever had caused the sound was dangerous. You weren’t sure what you expected to find, but you certainly weren’t expecting what you got. 

As you lowered your lit wand to the sound, you spotted a Hufflepuff boy, kneeling down on the floor while hastily picking some things up. He looked horrified and leaned back and covered his face when he saw the light. 

“Aiden?” Remus asked with a frown.

He lowered his hands from his face and looked at the two of you. He said your name, almost in a question, and then he looked at your partner. “Remus?” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you leaned down and started helping him with the things he had. 

“I was looking for you,” he explained. “Professor Nightshade asked me to pick you up from potions so you were in her classroom a little earlier today. But you weren’t there and–“ he took some collection cards scattered on the floor and placed them in his pocket. “When I asked the portraits if they’d seen where you’d gone, one told me you’d walked behind the statue and disappeared. I remembered you and Remus liked to go around passage hunting after study club, so I assumed it was one. But it was ridiculously dark, and I kept  tripping.” 

“Why didn’t you try Lumus?” asked Remus kindly. 

“I did!” he said, looking rather exasperated. “I tried, at least. But I couldn’t remember the name of the spell. I thought it was lighmus.” Aiden wasn’t good with memory, that’s why he’d joined the study club. He was excellent at charms, but only with a book in hand. No light meant he couldn’t check his journal, and therefore, he couldn’t cast a good spell. 

“So, what is the right spell?” you asked. 

The boy sighed, and took his wand out, “Lumus,” he said, and his wand lit up, as blindingly bright as yours was. “Sorry if I bothered you,” he said with a small frown, head down and looking between you and Remus with genuine regret. “If you want me to leave the study club–“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Remus said as he patted the boy’s back in a reassuring manner. “You’ve gotten so much better at remembering other charms since you joined.” 

“But, am I not a nuisance?” he asked, looking up at Remus, genuinely sorry for what he’d done, which made you wonder if perhaps he had seen more than he let on. 

“Not at all,” you reassured. “Besides, you’ve been helping that Ravenclaw boy with potions, you wouldn’t want to leave him hanging, would you?” 

“Well, I guess not,” he said with a frown as he scratched his head. Then he looked up. “Do you know how to get to the charms classroom from here?” 

“Yes, I can take you,” he said as he looked at Aiden. “You should probably go to Nightshade.” 

“Right, yeah,” you said with a nod, not actually wanting to part ways with him. You started leaning onto him for a short goodbye kiss –the kind Sirius always wanted– but stopped yourself once you remembered you weren’t alone. “You uh… had some dust here,” you said as you brushed his shoulder, gave him a bit of a strangled smile and then patted his shoulder. 

 He smiled at that, trying not to look as smug as he felt which was, in reality, not all that successful. “Thank you, Luv,” he said politely. 

“No problem,” you retorted with a smile. “See you around, Aiden!” you added with a small wave. 

“See you,” he said with a smile. “And good luck!” 

“You too, tell Flitwick you were with us in case they ask around. Don’t mention the passage.” 

“Course not,” he added with a smile. 

Remus placed a hand on Aiden’s back and motioned him to walk forward. He was much taller than the little boy, and you thought he looked too cute as he helped the smaller boy. He then turned his head and raised his eyebrows at you when he noticed you were still staring. 

“Need anything?” he asked with a knowing smirk. 

And while you had been slightly caught off guard, you recovered almost instantly. “Your shirt is untucked,” you responded and turned back towards one of the diverging sections of the path. Once you took the first turn, it was almost instinctive the way in which you continued to walk from one path to the other until you exited the passageways. After going inside them so many times for Nummie and Pyro, you’d memorised the map Remus had made for you all those months past. 

You exited through the portrait of some nature mortes, as Sirius insisted on calling the cheese, bread and wine board painted in the canvas and made sure it was closed thoroughly as you continued with your way. That exit was the closest to the DADA classroom, you’d only have to walk one set of stairs, a hallway, and you’d be right outside. 

Once outside her office, you placed your hand over the door, but it opened itself before you even had the time to touch it. You let out a short blow of air, it was a rather complicated spell, not that indispensable to add to doors, and sometimes they were connected to the caster’s mind, to allow only the people that they were expecting to enter. Too complicated for a rather small payoff, it looked incredibly cool though, and it was definitely the kind of spell Seraphina would use. 

“I believe Mr. May found you,” she said as she looked up from the book and placed an elegant metal bookmarker in between the pages she was reading before closing the book. 

“Not without some setbacks,” you replied, as you stood on the other side of her desk. 

“Sit, darling, sit,” she said as she waved her hand and a chair floated right behind you. You did as told, and remained silent, looking at her. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened.” 

“You already know all of it,” you told her. “You read the letter, yes?” You’d given Dumbledore a letter for her that day before going to the Lupin cottage. 

“Indeed,” she said as she pulled it up. Your handwriting had been slightly messy, and there were a few blotchy stains of black ink all over the parchment. A simple, and yet obvious testament of the state of mind you’d been on when you wrote it. You bit your lip and looked somewhere else, trying not to remember how much it hurt to get all those words out and into paper. “But, Darling, it was a dreadful thing you went through.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you said as you avoided her gaze. “I don’t fancy talking about it.” 

“I assumed as much,” she said as she looked at you. But even if her words were a little harsh, the way in which she uttered them was soft and sympathetic. She looked at the way in which you avoided her gaze and then sighed. 

“Did you call me to talk about it?” you asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I did not,” she said simply. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I am okay.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, and then sighed, closing her eyes, as if she wasn’t ready to do or say what she was about to. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” she added.

“Like this, how?” you asked apprehensively. It was the tone she used when you were about to learn a spell or defence that was complicated and, or painful. 

She sighed again and turned to look at you much more dourly. “Who am I?” 

You frowned but answered, “Seraphina Nightshade.” 

“How do you call me?” 

“Professor Nightshade.” 

“All the time?” 

“I call you Seraphina when you’re tutoring me.” 

“What did you think the first time we met?” 

“That you were beautiful, like a ballerina,” you said honestly. 

She seemed to be caught off guard by that but recovered quickly. 

“I meant when I asked you to come to the classroom after the incident with Mr. Rosier.” 

“That day? You asked a few interesting questions. I thought you might have been a dark wizard.” 

“And you still talked to me?” 

“I was disgusted by the idea, but I held you in high regards already. I was willing to hear whatever it was you had to say.” 

“Does anybody know about your private classes with me?” 

“My friends, although they think they’re about duelling training.” 

“Anyone else?” 

“I haven’t told anybody else.” 

“Would you be willing to confirm that with veritaserum?” 

“You don’t… trust me,” you retorted, an almost disappointed look on your face that made Nightshade gulp. 

“It’s not that,” she tried to reassure. “Would you take it?” 

“And if I didn’t?” 

“Our classes would cease.”

You stared at her apprehensively. You did not want your classes to cease, not when you’d seen the danger of being incapable of self-defence. Not in the middle of a war. “I would.” 

She opened a drawer on the side of her desk and pulled out a small vial. The tag “veritaserum” was perfectly clear. You reached for it and picked it up, breaking the wax seal at the top. You smelled the contents of the bottle. There was a faint smell of stewed mandrake root which confirmed that she’d actually given you veritaserum. She smiled when she noticed how weary you were, even with her. 

You took down half of it, and passed the bottle back at her, “I’ve left some for you.” 

She raised an eyebrow your way. “I gather you need to confirm I am who I say I am,” you started. “I’m afraid I’ll say compromising information if you are not who you say you are.” 

She nodded, and took the vial, drinking it in one go. “You know, that alone was almost convincing enough… What’s your name?”

You gave her your full name. “And yous?” 

“Seraphina Alessandra Nightshade.” 

“Alessandra?” you asked with a frown. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “I don’t use it… Have you taken any polyjuice lately?” 

“Define lately.” 

“Anytime this year.” 

“No. You?” 

“Me neither,” she retorted. “Have you been cursed?” 

“Yes.” 

“By what? Any unforgivables?” 

“Crucio,” you retorted. 

“Not imperio?” 

“No.” You paused. “You?” 

“I haven’t been cursed.” 

“Well, you’re quite lucky then.” 

She sighed, biting her lip and turning back to you. She looked a lot more relaxed now, but she seemed to still have a few questions left. “Did someone use imperio and command you to lie about it?” 

“No.” 

“Did they use any other tricky command that would prevent you from telling the truth right now?” 

“There was no imperio and there were no commands.” 

“Good. Would you lower your mind shields for me? It will not be pleasant if I break them.” 

“It will not be pleasant either way,” you retorted, knowing that she would look through the memories of that night. “Will it?” 

“I’m sorry,” she said. And you knew she meant it. Not because she was under viritaserum, but her expression was telling enough. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, a member of the order insisted.” 

You scoffed, you weren’t surprised at all. You took a deep breath, your chest tightening as it stretched outwards and then back down, you closed your eyes, your teeth clashing against themselves as you tried to steady yourself, and then you nodded. A slow nod accompanied by a simple exhale. “They’re down.” 

You could feel her tugging at your mind as she got in. You could feel the way she searched through your memories at the party. You didn’t hide anything from her, but you trusted she would maintain the same discretion you had with the things you’d figured out that day. It would be pointless to try and hide the stuff with Evan’s dad, it would be suspicious if you did. 

You shut your eyes when she got to the scream, to the time you crouched down on the balcony, hearing the muggle screams and doing nothing, to the moment you recognized Nina’s and jinxed Regulus. She looked through everything that happened that night. In detail, the faces of the people in the room, the clothes they wore, the wands they used. She saw the way Bellatrix cursed you, and then three more times, to make sure the words she said were the ones you claimed she had. She followed you into the maze and saw what happened inside, with Lucius and with the other Slytherin boys. She saw Barty help you up and shake you, he saw the two of you run until you appeared outside the shack, and she probably felt along with you the moment in which Barty jinxed you per your request.

“Was that enough?” you asked as you stared at her. Your eyes were glassy with unshed tears but your face and voice were steady, almost devoid of emotion. You wondered how many times you’d have to relive that dreadful night. Not only in nightmares but also in retellings, and in tests. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, much quieter now. “We had to make sure.” 

“I know,” you said simply. You weren’t mad at her, but you were mad at the situation you’d been thrown into. You wondered how it was to live in a time before the war if people didn’t have to go through horrible things like this. Perhaps in the future, when the war was over, you’d know what that was like. 

She hesitated before she spoke again. “I could– you know I could help you forget about all that.” 

“About that night?” 

“If the memories are too painful, we could obliviate you.”

You had thought about it. Plenty of times, especially before the mirror. Perhaps all you needed was to forget about it, to leave, back then when you were alone and you thought you had no one. You’d considered getting a potion, leaving England and lying to yourself about everything that’s happened. A gaslighting so powerful inflicted on yourself and by yourself that all the pain would fade into oblivion. But if the mirror had taught you anything, if that night had taught you anything, then it was that the less you knew, the more danger you’d be in. 

If you had known better then the results of that night would have been different. If you hadn’t allowed yourself to be distracted by the broken floor, you would have blocked Lucius’ spell, and then things would have been different. You hadn’t known that then, but you did now. And just as you were after it happened, you were determined to never allow something like that to ensue again. 

“No,” you said. “I can’t protect the ones I love if I don’t know what I’m facing.” 

You looked at each other for a few seconds and she sighed, “I wouldn’t have expected anything different from you…” There was a small silence, she looked at her desk, she pulled a parchment from the bottom of her book. “Dumbledore wants more people to join the order, to extend the network.” She moved the list your way. “What do you think of this selection?”

You stared at the list, there were some names you recognised, some others which you’d heard in school but you hadn’t officially met.  A few names jumped at you on the first read. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius, Marlene and Dorcas. You knew neither of them would deny the invitation, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be in danger by being members. You wanted to protect them, that’s why you’d joined. 

“Most of my friends are here,” you said. 

“You have incredibly talented friends.” 

You sighed. You’d never cared much for the danger you put yourself in, but you would never ask them to do the same. “If you want me to ask them–” 

“That’s not what we want.” 

“I wouldn’t have,” you said blankly. “So far the one time I tried to do anything to help it ended in a massacre. And it wasn’t even an official request.” 

“You would never be alone on official order business.” 

“Doesn’t make it much better, does it? I wasn’t alone there either.“

“So, do you agree they would be good members?” 

You wanted to say no, you wanted to lie and tell her that they would be terrible. That Sirius was bad at charms, that Lily couldn’t duel, that Remus looked smart but wasn’t. That Marlene and Docas’ only talent was flying and that James was selfish and conceited. But with the veristaserum still running through your system, you couldn’t lie. You swallowed. “They… would all be excellent members…” 

Seraphina nodded in agreement. “What about the other names?” 

“I don’t know them very well. I’ve heard Emmeline Vance is brilliant in charms, and I know Fabian and Gideon from the duelling club, but I believe I’ve never gone against either of them.”

“Is there anyone else you’d think would be fit?” 

You gave her a reproachful look in return. That was like suggesting who to enlist in a war. 

“They would still have to go through a tough reviewing process.” 

“Minho, Beth, Tom,” you started. “Neil, Nox and… Regulus.” 

“Regulus Black? Wasn’t he at the–” 

“Not by choice,” you interrupted. 

She sighed. “I don’t think he would be accepted. They almost left Sirius out because of his parents… Having said that. It wouldn’t hurt for you to keep him as an ally.” 

“He’s my friend.” 

“Do you think he’d be willing to act as a secret informant?” 

“Depends on who asks.” 

“What about the rest? Would they want to join?” 

You hesitated, you weren’t sure about everyone’s possible reaction, but you did know about some of them. The Marauders though, you assumed they’d be more than eager to join especially when they were told the reason for the fight. James and the rest of them all believed in equality, and he was particularly irked when anyone said anything regarding blood purity. He knew how hard it had been for Lily now, and he was ready to jump on anyone who dared to say anything that could make her feel bad. 

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “At least most of them will.” 

She seemed to be about to say something else, but then the bell rang, and you knew it was time for her class to start. “Thank you,” she said as you stood. “I know it was hard for you.” 

If your veins weren’t oozing with truth serum, perhaps you would have answered with something like “It’s fine” or “no problem”. But you couldn’t lie, and it wasn’t fine. Although you understood the necessary evil it had been to have you go through it. Although the rational part of you agreed that it was the best, and perhaps the only logical course of action. And that they should have actually done it much earlier, the other part of you, the more emotional one, was pissed. Because you were forced to go through the pain again because she didn’t trust you to take your word for it. 

“Who was it?” you asked instead. 

“Who was what?” 

“Who insisted that I should go through this?” 

“Alastor Moody,” she responded simply. 

“Right,” you said, remembering the man that you’d met once a few years back in a dinner with your parents. He had light brown hair and a round worried face. He’d looked older for his age and had shown your father a thick scar he’d gotten on his chin after a fight with some magical being. He’d just turned into an auror back then. Although you had a faint memory of the man, you’d seen him again on the papers more than once, since he was one of the most important authors of the Ministry. Last year he’d recorded the highest hunt and imprison toll since Ominis Gaunt at the beginning of the century.

Being who he was, and from what you’d read about him, it made sense that he would ask her to do that to you or kick you out of the order entirely, especially when the only thing he knew about you was the fact that you were Silas’ daughter.

“Will you be okay?” she asked as you walked towards the door. 

“I’m much better now,” you said honestly. “What you saw… it was awful. Thinking about it hurts still. But back here, in school, with my friends… It feels safe.” 

“Good.” She said with a nod, and then, almost as an afterthought leaned down and took a small vial from her drawer. “Drink this.” 

“What is it?” you asked as you took it in your hands. 

“Antidote,” she explained. “I assume it’d be rather inconvenient to have to tell the truth all day when you have a secret society to hide.” 

And that wasn’t your only secret. 

“Thank you,” you said. And then, just out of spite added, “Alessandra.” 

“I don’t really fancy that name.” 

“I didn’t fancy you getting into my head either, but sometimes we must compromise, don’t we?” 

She laughed, “Get out, or I’ll give you a Dreadful on the next evaluation.” 

“That’s abuse of power, Miss Nightshade.” 

“Perhaps, but you wouldn’t report me. I’m your favourite teacher, after all.” 

You took the liquid and pocketed the vial. “I don’t know, Professor Kettleburn is up there.” 

She laughed again, and you left her office before people started walking inside the classroom. You didn’t bother to leave, and the boys were outside just minutes afterwards. 

Her class went by rather uneventfully. She focused on counterspells and strong defence spells, some that required extreme concentration and others that used other items in the surrounding vicinity as a shield. She mentioned that, although very useful, and relatively easy to perform, those kinds of spells were always at risk of not being powerful enough, since the defence depended on the item’s structure, and not on the wizard casting it.

If the opponent’s spell, whatever it might have been, was more powerful than the item you chose, you would likely get hit by the spell, and be forced to withstand a good part of the damage. 

“How do we know if an object is powerful enough to defend us?” asked Marlene. 

“That’s the problem,” Seraphina explained. “Unless you have studied the item previously, or for other reasons know its properties, be it magical or muggle, there would be no way of knowing.” 

“What about an item with a strong witchcraft residue?” asked Tom. 

“Those could be very useful, but be careful, sometimes people cast spells on items in their house or territory so that whenever a wizard tries to use them as a shield, it backfires.” 

“Is there a detection spell for that?” 

“Certainly,” she said as she waved her hand and a floating piece of chalk started writing on the board, a page and the name of a spell. “Unfortunately, taking the time to cast revelio malignus is rarely practical in a duel or fight. Not because the spell takes too long, but rather because you could get attacked while you’re at it.” 

Beth raised her hand. “But there are some that can detect those things naturally, right?” 

“Yes and no,” she said as she tilted her head. “It’s not that they are born with the ability to detect bewitched or cused objects, but rather,  they are better at perceiving magic than others, which in turn allows them to notice when an object has been cursed without having to use revelio malignus.” 

“Can we train to do something like this?” asked Terix, one of the Hufflepuffs.

“Curse breakers go through extensive training to stay safe in their jobs, and even though all wizards can detect magic, not everyone has senses keen enough to detect a well-concealed coursed object.” 

“And the best course breakers are already born with that ability, right?” said Lily.

“Indeed,” said Seraphina, smiling. “You know of an example?” 

“Matilda Weasly,” she retorted. 

“Brilliant. In fact, she’s recorded as the most sensible witch in regards of detecting coursed objects. She passed the  CORSE with a perfect score.” 

“What’s the CORSE?” asked Mary. 

“Cursed Object Recognition and Sensory Evaluation,” responded Lily politely. “I made an essay about Matilda in History of Magic last year,” she added when she noticed some of the looks she got from students. 

“Precisely, thank you, Miss Evans,” she nodded at Lily and then turned to the rest of the class again. “Any other questions regarding the blocking spells?” Once she made sure there wasn’t any, she proceeded. “Now if we don’t use items, what’s the other spell we can use?” 

“Protego,” replied Bash Heartly. 

Seraphina smiled, “And how do we make protego the most effective?” 

“We use Protego Maxima?” asked Janice. 

“Well…” 

“You have to cast it right before it hits you,” you said. “You can cast it at any point in a fight, but the longer you have the protecting bubble up, the more energy it takes and the less effective it becomes.” 

“Exactly,” she said, and then out of nowhere she pulled her wand out and shot a stunning spell. She probably noticed you had your wand in your hand because you barely had enough time to deviate the spell with an alternate version of protego she’s taught you in your private classes. The red beam of the spell had gone to the side and clashed against the Hebedrian skeleton, causing it to rattle and subsequently, for the jaw to fall off. 

Janice screeched as it was about to fall right on top of her when Peter –of all people– was fast enough to push it towards one of the windows instead. The glass broke as the head fell downwards a few floors, and then a loud thud as it crashed against the grass. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as a few students leaned over their desks and looked through the window. 

“Brilliant reflexes, both of you,” she said as she looked in between you and Peter, the latter was beaming with pride at having saved someone. 

“I should have used protego, not deflecto.”

“However, deflecto, is the best spell to use when a fight is starting,” she countered. “Especially when you are not expecting to be attacked, it consumes less energy than protego and instantly tells your opponent that you are not someone to mess with it.” She’d taught you that already, which is why you hadn’t even hesitated as you waved your wand.

“Mr. Lupin, would you mind bringing that head back up here with a levitation spell?” 

“Yes, Miss,” he retorted as he stood up and walked towards the window. There were already some kids from 2nd year on their break looking at the jaw curiously. 

“What’s this?” One of them shouted as he noticed Remus on the window.

“It’s a Hebridean Black,” he explained. 

“Blimey, Jace, it’s a dragon’s!” A small brunette next to him said as she patted him on the side, leaning down to get a closer look. 

“Why do you have a dragon's jaw, Mister?” 

“It’s not mine,” Remus replied patiently. “It’s Professor Nightshade’s.” 

“It’s not mine either,” she replied from behind. “Dinah Hecat left it here about a hundred years ago.” 

“Professor Nightshade?” the boy asked.

She nodded, also leaning on the window, “I thought it was you, Jace,” she retorted. “I can tell you all about the Hebridean Black and Professor Hecat in our next class.” 

“You would do that?” asked the girl. 

“Of course Miss Finch,” she retorted. “Now, if you’d allow Mr. Lupin to bring that jaw back up, it would be delightful.” 

“Yes, Miss Nightshade, sorry for inconveniencing your class, Miss.” 

“I value curiosity, Jace. Never apologise for it,” she smiled. The little boy beamed and walked back to the courtyard where he’d been playing with the old brooms. 

Remus flicked his wand, the jaw steadily floated all the way up, through the window, and later was levitated towards the front of the classroom. 

“Thank you very much, Mr Lupin,” she said with a smile, and then turned to the floor and delicately waved her wand, a clear as day remnant from her time as a ballerina. The window suddenly took back its form, the small shards of glass gently placing themselves back on the spot, the jaw went back to the rest of the dragon’s skull, along with two small bone-coloured nails that helped its fixing. 

“That’s 15 points for the Gryffindors,” she said as everyone settled, “5 for each.” 

There were a few cheers and some thumbs up thrown your way and Peter’s. Peter, although he was quite capable, had always been a little clumsy, and he rarely earned house points, which made him even more thrilled about the entire situation. The pats on the back he got from some other Gryffindor’s had clearly made him ecstatic. 

Even when you had all walked towards the Great Hall, he couldn’t let go of it. “Poor Janice, if I hadn’t been there, who knows what might have happened, right?” 

“You were really fast, Pete,” James said with a supportive smile. “And you threw it right out of that window.” 

“Yes!” Peter added. “And you?!” he said as he turned to you. “How on earth did you manage to block so fast? Did you expect her to do that? Is that why she called you in earlier? Was it planned?” 

You tried not to wince at the fact that Seraphina could have very well told you about her little plan for the class, but you suspected she had omitted the information to test you, as if she wanted to see which spell you would use. Anyone else would have used protego, since that was the spell you were practising, but you would have instinctively gone for deflecto, because it was what you’d practised in her classes more than once.

“Eh… not really. But I had my wand in my hand.” 

“You reckon you could have thrown her jinx towards someone else?” 

“I deflected upwards on purpose, but I suppose it was possible. I wasn’t thinking much further than not being instantly stunned.” 

“Yeah, I totally get it,” Pete responded, “I wasn’t thinking of the window either, just shook my wand. Had the Window not been there, perhaps it would have clashed against the wall.” 

“Maybe your instincts knew there was a window?” Remus offered. “Like unconsciously.” 

“Right! That must have been it!” Peter said with a rather eager nod. “Either way, I think I deserve a good meal after it.” 

You all laughed. Peter’s appetite had gone up recently, and you’d often hear him talking about food. You were sure Sirius had teased him about gaining weight, but James had put a stop to it before it got out of hand, since he noticed Peter was actually feeling bad about it after he tried to tease him as well.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Vixen Really cannot catch a break. Can she?

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[gothamite-rambler]

Harley Quinn's Redemption arc starts with Jason

Headcanon: Harley Quinn is way nicer to Jason Todd after leaving Joker and formal with the other Robins. She wants to prove to him she's not Mister J or affiliated with him. He hates her at first, but Harley Quinzel - Psychiatrist and insane clown girl will not give up.

Harley Quinn, opened the door of an empty warehouse where Jason is tied up at. He got tied up by the drug fiends, but Harley took care of that. Jason eyes widen in shock and then harden with anger as Harley skips over to him.

Harley: Hey Jacey, miss me?

Jason (glaring at the woman while his mouth is tapped shut): *muffled curse words*

Harley (smiling while her eyes shifted in shock): Haven't heard harsh words like that in a few years. Not from who you'd think eitha, it was my great aunt whenever she dropped by for Thanksgiving. Good times. Anyways, dontcha worry, I knocked out the guys blocking the doors. You're welcome.

Harley Quinn rips off the tape.

Jason: How- Owwwww!

Harley : It's just tape, I've had waxes worse than that. Waxin' is the worst, let me tell ya.

Jason: How-

Harley (interrupting Jason): Avoid at all costs. Oh and for the question how did I knows you were here. I'm the partner Batsy set ya up with.

Harley (covering a red faced Jason's mouth): Relax, I pestered him for a week to let me. My idea, not his. I'm really good at breaking people down.

Harley cut the ropes with a large knife. Jason stood up, rubbing his sore wrists. His stare at Harley was filled with fury.

Harley: You got taller and are rockin' the white-

Jason: Leave!

Harley: I can't leave ya alone. Batsy told me to keep ya safe and I will. I tracked who these guys are linked to.

Jason: Great, you can deal with that. I'm going home.

Harley: You have to come with me, I'm trustworthy-

Jason (covering the woman's mouth): Thank you soooo much for coming to my aid. It's super great you 'totally' changed. Do that, away from me.

Jason stormed off, exiting the warehouse, ignoring the unconscious guards. Harley skipped with him, not giving up.

Harley: You're welcome! Jacey, give me a chance we're trauma siblings. We both dealt with the Joker. I get that you hold a little resentment towards me.

Jason: You let him kill me!

Harley: And I am sorry for that. My voice sounds like I'm faking it, but this is how I talk.

Jason: Like a lunatic?

Harley: Ha, ha. Seriously I can make it up to ya.

Jason: No you can't. Bye.

Jason kept walking wanting to be done with this failed mission. Harley crosses her arms with a smirk.

Harley: Guess I'll deal with that cargo of cocaine those guys were movin' over. It's linked to a major drug ring, Snowflame is the drug lord-

Jason: Don't care.

Harley: You never met Snowflame, have you? The cocaine powered super villain.

Jason (over his shoulder): That's not a real man.

Harley: He is very real and very insane. He snorts loads of cocaine to fight people, somehow has an electric guitar play when he talks, but maybe he's too strong for ya. That's okay, I'll leave you be.

Harley skipped past Jason, sly smile on her face.

Harley (slyly): He'll have cocaine powder on his face.

Jason sighs.

Jason: I gotta see this guy. I'll go with you!

Harley: Yay, you're going to love this and afterwards you get a stickea.

Jason: I don't want a sticker!

Harley followed behind Jason eager to be working together.

Harley: But it's a puffy cat sticka.

Jason: I'm not a preschooler.

Harley: Fine, I won't give it to ya.

Jason : I... Might want to see it.

-----------------------------------------------

Two weeks later while Jason was out shopping for fruits, Harley snuck up behind him while carrying her bat.

Harley: Hey Jacey!

Jason screamed causing Harley to scream.

Harley: Calm down!

Jason: How did you find me?!

Harley: Saying I was followin' ya is the least creepy answa. I was followin' ya . Batsy told me ya were lookin' for a therapist. I mean hello, here I am.

Jason (shaking his head): Nope. Nope, not you. I'm not taking you as a therapist.

He walked past her. She jumps in front of him making him throw his arms up annoyed.

Harley: Come on, Jacey, I'm accredited and everything.

Jason: I heard you slept with your professor to coast through college.

Harley: Lies! I hate that stupid rumor! I'm incredibly smart! I can already read you like a book. You struggle with trust issues, have PTSD, anger issues you have to manage and... Severe depression along with an unspecified mood disorder.

Jason: ...

Harley: How close was I?

Jason (walking past the woman): You're not going to be my therapist!

Harley: I was right. Jacey when you get past my accent I give solid advice. Jace, wait, if you don't want me, I know a couple people.

Jason ran off exiting the store, but Harley was hot on his heels, determined to help him whether he wanted it or not. Jason didn’t fully hate Harley; he just recognized that her approach wasn’t the way to earn someone’s forgiveness. He sighed, feeling the frustration of the situation wash over him.

Harley: We're sprintin'! I love sprintin'! That is a healthy way to work out your frustrations.

Jason: Harley!

Harley: Come on, give me a chance!

Jason: Stop chasing me!

[desperate-gay]

Intruder

Alessia Russo x fem!reader

A loud noise from downstairs jolts you from your sleep. Your position from laying on top of your girlfriend has now changed to you sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Another faint sound from downstairs can be heard which confuses you because the only two people who live in the house are you and Alessia, and you’re both laying on your bed. You quickly shake Alessia, causing her to grunt in irritation.

“Go back to sleep, love,” she barely mumbles out as her breaths begin to steady again. As cute as she looks, you’re terrified of confronting whatever it is downstairs by yourself, so you once again shake her out of her sleep.

“Lessi, baby, I think someone broke in.”

She sits up with her eyes still closed and a puzzled look on her face. “What are you talking about, hun?” Her voice raspy and quiet.

“There were a bunch of noises that woke me up and another when I attempted to wake you up.” The nervous look on your face woke Alessia up all the way. She quietly walks towards your guy’s closet and grabs the bat that’s always there for emergencies. Her finger places a spot on her lips, signaling you to be as quiet as you can. You nod in agreement and walk right behind her, with your hand on her back.

Both of you walk down the stairs as lightly as possible so none of the stairs would creak and alert whoever is in your house. It’s still dark outside, but the sun is starting to rise. You perch over Alessia’s shoulder and see light illuminating its way onto the couch, yet there is no sign of anyone. Finally, you guys are now on the main floor, moving as slowly as possible.

“What are you guys doing with a bat?”

A voice interrupts, causing Lessi to turn around and drag you behind her as she holds the bat up defensively. Still sheltered behind your girlfriend, you flip on the light switch that was right next to you to see whoever broke into your house. Lo and behold, it’s the one and only Ella Toone with a bowl of cereal in one hand, and a spoon full of fruit loops in the other. Alessia sighs out in relief and lowers the bat, but not before glaring at her best friend.

“Good morning, sunshines!” Ella shouts, but it’s muffled by the fruity food that fills her mouth.

“Tooney! What are you doing here? We thought you were a criminal trying to rob us! I could have hurt you.” Alessia scolds with her arms crossed over her chest. Ella walks past the both of you, basically telling you to follow her. You and Lessi both give one another a look, before begrudgingly walking behind her. The light that you saw earlier on the couch was from the TV. Ella sits on the couch and sets her bowl of cereal on the table in front of her.

“First of all, it’s only 5:30 in the morning which isn’t that bad. Second, you guys really shouldn’t give your key to Esme because you know I can convince her to let me steal it. And third, I wanted to play on your big TV.” Ella rants as she grabs the pink Xbox controller. On the big screen, you can see both the England and Spain flags. You roll your eyes at the brunette and let out a small smile.

“So you broke into our house to play Fifa?” You ask while cuddling back into Lessi, who warps her arm around your waist while you both stand behind the couch watching Tooney.

“It can’t be called breaking in if I have a key.” She states holding up the silver object.

Alessia quickly snatches it out of her hand and mumbles, “This is why I didn’t give you our spare.”

“Oi! Why are you so snappy? Did I interrupt something?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah. Our sleep. C’mon darling, let’s leave this lunatic alone and go back to bed for a few hours.” There’s no way you’re arguing with that, so you both head upstairs.

“I’ll make you two breakfast when you wake up as an apology!”

“Don’t burn the house down, Tooney!”

—

After you and Alessia woke up, it was about 9:30, which meant you got a few extra hours of sleep after Ella ruined both your guy’s initial slumber. You both brushed your teeth and did your daily objectives. Instead of staying in your pajamas, you opted to put on a pair of sweatpants and one of Lessi’s jumpers.

Now you both sit at the kitchen island eating the breakfast Ella thoughtfully made for the two of you. She decided French Toast was a good choice, and she made it surprisingly well.

“Thank you, Ella. It was really good.” You compliment her and she smiles and pumps her fists in victory. Alessia just smiles and rolls her eyes at her friend's actions.

“Y’know I could take real good care of ya. Make you breakfast every morning, play you in Fifa…” Ella teases, placing her arm over your shoulder.

“Aye aye aye, hands off! She’s mine and mine only.” Alessia states, putting both her hands on your hips and pulling you into her. Your face lays on her chest as you wrap your arms around her. “See, that’s my last name on her back, not yours.”

Ellas puts her hands up in surrender and walks away chuckling. Tooney most likely went back to her game, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. You move to rest your chin on her chest, arching your neck to look straight up into her eyes. Her neck arches down and she places a sweet kiss on your lips. Her arms reach down and hug around your midsection tightly, and yours does the same but around her neck. Still hugging you, her hand flat on your back, running from the middle to under your hair. She lifts you up without breaking the kiss, onto the counter and she finds a spot between your legs.

It began as a sweet innocent kiss, then turned into a needy make-out session. Both of you too indulged in each other, you don’t hear the pats of footsteps approaching.

“Ugh! TMI you guys! Gross.” Ella says with her tongue hanging out her mouth as a sign of disgust. “You guys can suck each other’s faces off when I’m not here. ‘Til then, no more kisses on the lips longer than 3 seconds and no more than 10 kisses every hour. And that’s me being generous!”

“Bossy,” You mutter.

“So how long do you actually plan on staying?” Alessia quirks a daring eyebrow at Ella. All Tooney does in response is shrugs her shoulders. Your girlfriend scoffs at the thought that her best friend will be cockblocking her the whole day.

“Oi! How about we make a deal? You play one game against me and if you win, I leave without a fuss. But if I win, you have to buy dinner and make a TikTok with me. Deal?” Ella negotiates sticking her hand out, waiting for the blonde to shake it. Lessi looks at you for help and your eyebrows raise, wondering what she’s gonna choose.

“Deal.” She shakes the brunette's hand.

“Alright, let’s play some football!”

You hop off the counter and follow the two girls into the living room, but as you’re about to sit down on the chair, Alessia grabs your hips and pulls you into her lap. “You’re my lucky charm,” Lessi mumbles against your cheek before laying a kiss. Ella fake gags right next to you and the blonde smacks her shoulder.

“Ow.” Ella grunts, rubbing her arm.

—

Halfway through the game, the score is 2-2. Both girl’s competitive side showing, leaning forward to be somewhat closer to the screen. You made yourself comfortable sitting sideways on your girlfriend's lap and your fuzzy-covered feet lying on both your friend’s lap. You’d occasionally place a small kiss on her neck and whisper encouraging words in her ear.

A couple of minutes have passed, and you can see Alessia’s not playing the best she could. So as a way to motivate her, you move your lips to her ear and whisper, “If you win, I’ll finally wear your jersey and you can do whatever you want to me while I'm in it.”

Those words must have sparked something in her, hearing you’d finally wear her Manchester United jersey since you were a die-hard Arsenal fan. You’d wear her jumper occasionally, like right now, but you’d always stop her from trying to convince you to wear her jersey.

With only 2 minutes left of the game, Alessia tackles the ball from Ella’s player and makes a run for the goal. She shoots the ball to the corner of the net and it goes in. Your girlfriend stands up and lifts you up with her, making sure you don’t fall.

“Yes!” Alessia cheers while Tooney sighs in defeat on the couch. “Alright Tooney, since I’m not a total jerk, the next time I see you we can make a TikTok.”

Ella smiles and stands up to press a kiss on both of your cheeks. “Thank ya, Less. I’ll leave you two love birds alone!”

Before she can walk out the door, you shout, “Ella, wait!” You jog over to the fridge and reach on top of it to grab something. Walking back over to Ella, you place your hand out with a silver object in hand. “Here’s your official key to our home,” just as she’s about to grab it you pull back your hand, “but do not scare us at 5:30 in the morning.”

She nods and gratefully grabs the keys from your hands and pulls you into a hug. “I knew you two loved me enough to get me one, love you Less, love you y/n/n!”

“Love you too!” You and Alessia say in unison as the girl walks out the door.

“Now you are going to follow me into our closet and put on the very thing that you promised you would.”

“Mmm, I don’t know. I just said that so you could win.” You taunt.

“You can’t back down from your word, love.” Her voice going lower, raspy, and filled with lust.

“And what if I did?”

“Then you’d be punished.” She husks, grabbing the under parts of your thighs so you can wrap them around her waist.

“I better go put on that jersey then, shouldn’t I?” In response, the blonde looks at you with blown-up pupils and leans in for a time-stopping kiss.

“I can’t wait to ruin you.”

[oepionie]

—"UNDERCOVER PRINCESS CHARMING" drabble

SYNOPSIS: MC is the elusive eldest sister of the Charming royal family. This is a secret she's kept hidden from her friends and lover at NRC. However, her efforts to keep her royal heritage under wraps all go to waste when her old friends calls her by her real last name.

⊹ [ cw ] — a fight breaks out, MC gets chased by a tiger, not proofread◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFFY CRACK! female reader! rsa princes cameo hehe, the story of how MC started a flat out war against RSA and NRC, your lover can be any TWST boy◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 500+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

"Princess Charming! You're here!" Neige calls out gleefully, waving vehemently at you as he rushes over. A group of boys were approaching you, all clad in the respectable, pristine white uniforms of RSA.

The questioning stares of your friends dart and pierce through you, the same inquisitive expression plastered onto their faces. By your side, your lover tenses up, jaw clenching as he mistakes the boy's greeting as a sign of flirtatious affection.

"What does he mean?" He murmurs, protectively stepping closer to you as the group of handsome bright-eyed princes close in. "Why is he calling you…Princess Charming?"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

This certainly activated your fight-or-flight instincts. Your mind was a jumble as of now and you were left unable to think of an excuse or backup plan. Holding your hand out, you tried to subtly gesture for them all to step away but they couldn't take the hint. Curse these princes and their child-like naivety.

Unfortunately, this was no time to start complaining, as the crowd just kept getting closer and closer. Neige was leading the small procession along, waving gleefully at you. Just behind him were a few familiar faces. Prince Rielle, Prince Jasmin, Allison—Every single one of your old friends was here. There was absolutely no way you could explain your way out of this one.

Flee it is!

Smiling tensely, you whip your head around and rush away, legs straining to keep up with the sudden speedy pace. Instead of giving up like you expected, it seemed as if they got even more persistent. Your false obliviousness being the match which lit up their fiery determination.

Now it wasn't only Neige calling for you. Prince Rielle furrows his brow and raises his voice, thinking you didn't hear his rosy-cheeked friend clearly. "PRINCESS CHARMING—"

"I-I think you all have the wrong person!" You scream out, almost wailing, as you break into a fast sprint. "PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Refusing to give up, the boys also start running after you, calling for you at the very top of their lungs and begging you to slow down. At the sight of your despair, your NRC friends run after the entourage.

Sure, they were extremely confused, but if your horrified expression was anything to go off of, it seemed like you weren't too keen on having these doe-eyed damsels princes follow you around.

"Rajah! Get her!" A flash of alarm strikes them when Jasmin calls for his tiger, jumping atop the beast and bolting towards your direction. Your scream was shrill and high-pitched as you ran faster, shaking your head vehemently at Jasmin who was practically breathing down your back. (It was quite amazing how you managed to outrun a tiger, he thinks.) "I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU PEOPLE ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Determined to protect you from any harm the RSA lunatics could send your way, a couple of your friends started to pull out their magic pens as they geared themselves up for battle.

And when Riddle activates his magic, clasping a collar tight around Allison's neck—chaos unfolds.

—EXTRA:

"My beautiful darling." Crowley wails, claws digging into his pants, tearing the fabric up as he watches a crowd of students fight and fling magical spells at each other, loud screaming coming from either side. You were in the midst of the crossfire, being forcibly pulled into the arms of one boy to another.

Crowley cries out once more, sinking to his knees.

"Oh. My beautiful darling school."

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