No homework done, chores need to be done, should be should…it’s bad

sheryl lee ralph!!! after a run of random people getting one of these things, it’s great to finally see someone who is actually a legend and deserves a star on the walk of fame!!! ⭐️👏

Written in the Stars

The day his soulmate mark appeared on the inside of Mattheo’s wrist, he knew he was fucked. He swore he could hear the universe laughing it up at his misery, the great misfortune of it all. If you didn’t know him, you’d think maybe he just didn’t care for the concept of soulmates at all. Or he just wasn’t all that interested in settling down. But how wrong that was. No. Mattheo Riddle desperately longed for a soulmate. Someone who would love him unconditionally through all of his flaws and imperfections. The problem then? It just so happened to be his best friend.

YESSSS YESSS YESSSSSSSSZSSSSSSSSSSSS MATTHEODORE

so good, too good, utterly in love with this

⤷ read this to understand ᥫ᭡.

DEAR THEODORE;

I’VE BEEN MEANING to say this for a while, and maybe i’m only finding the courage now because i’ve finally made sense of it myself.

whenever it’s slytherin versus hufflepuff on the quidditch pitch, i used to dread it. not because i didn’t love quidditch, but because of you. you were fast and always three steps ahead. everyone said you were one of the best, and i believed it. but my heart would race in a way that didn’t quite make sense for just nerves over a match.

i used to think i was intimidated by you. and maybe, in part, i was. but now, looking back with clearer eyes, i think it was more than that. i think it was because i had a crush on you: one i didn’t even recognize at the time. the way you moved, how focused you were. and i never knew how to explain it, not even to myself.

it’s weird, realizing that a crush can hide in plain sight for so long. that your heart can keep something secret even from yourself. i look back now and everything makes more sense: how my eyes found you even when they shouldn’t have, how your voice always made something inside me freeze up, how i remembered things you said without even meaning to.

you’re not the easiest person to love, and i say that as someone who probably isn’t either. but there’s something about you, the way you say so little but mean so much, that makes me want to try.

═════════════

OF COURSE. OF COURSE of course. of course. of course. of course.

mattheo stares at you, waiting for an answer, and you’re frozen: like a clueless fish, mouth opening and closing, not a single word managing to escape. this is a disaster. an absolute disaster.

you open your mouth again, this time ready to actually speak, unlike before, when nothing came out. but just as the words begin to form, you hear your name being called. and maybe it should’ve made you feel better: knowing someone will pull your attention away from mattheo, even if just for a moment. but it didn’t. because the voice that pulled you away from riddle… it belonged to theodore nott.

you’d recognize that voice from a mile away. you’d heard it plenty during the slytherin vs. hufflepuff quidditch matches. but this time, he wasn’t shouting at a teammate. he was shouting for you.

a glittering letter gripped tightly in his hand. you blinked, stunned. you knew they were out there, but you didn’t expect to be confronted by the next person. not when you hadn’t even dealt with mattheo yet.

“…are you even listening?”

mattheo’s voice barely registered. the sound of it blurred into the background as something gripped you—panic, all the more suffocating. because walking toward you was theodore nott.

it was like watching a nightmare step out of your memories. the kind you try to forget until it decides to remind you. all you could think about were those stupid letters. the ones you never should’ve written, or at least never should’ve meant. and now they were catching up to you in the form of theo’s gaze, like the universe had been waiting for the most inconvenient time to let it all unravel.

“no,” you blurted, quicker than you meant to. guilt crept in immediately. normally, you’d soften the truth, throw out some small hearted excuse just to keep the peace. but not now. not when your mind was racing, your cheeks were burning, and your only thought was that you needed to find luna and ask her what the hell she was thinking. because surely, she’d have something strange or somehow good to say that could make sense of this mess.

do you feel like a terrible friend for instantly blaming luna? absolutely. but do you also think she had something to do with it: one hundred and one percent? also absolutely.

she was the only one you ever showed. well—no, not even that. she found it. all curious eyes and quiet way of knowing too much without asking. luna’s the only one who knows about the letters besides you. the day after she stumbles upon them, they’re suddenly everywhere? out in the open like some twisted joke? it’s too much of a coincidence. practically screaming in your face.

you feel sick. embarrassed in a way that makes your skin crawl. you can already picture blaise reading your words and thinking you’re completely unhinged. enzo laughing to himself and calling you weird. draco raising a perfectly judgmental brow, convinced you’ve finally lost it.

and the look on theodore’s face as he walks toward you says enough: he thinks you’re all of it. weird, unhinged, embarrassing, a mess.

mattheo’s still in front of you, unaware that his best friend is fast approaching. you don’t have time to think: you act on instinct, driven by panic and the desperate need to escape whatever this moment is about to become.

“—if you don’t want to talk, that’s too bad, tel—”

“kiss me.” yes, you felt insane. yes, your heart was thudding so hard it hurt. and yes, the embarrassment of what you’d just said was enough to make you want to vanish into thin air.

“hmm?” he blinked, shocked; so insanely taken aback that under any other circumstances, you might’ve laughed. but there was no time for that. you were running on pure adrenaline now, the kind that only comes when your past is walking straight toward you and your present is preparing for impact.

“you—“ interruptions. god, interruptions. but for once, you welcomed them. because the best way to interrupt someone is to kiss them. maybe, it was also the best way to get out of a situation you had no idea how to make it through.

kisses like this are usually awkward: either for the people watching or for the ones doing it. but strangely, you didn’t feel awkward at all. not when riddle kissed you back without hesitation, hands sliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer against him.

you expected him to pull away, to stop and ask what the hell you were doing, but instead, he leaned in harder. one hand moved to cup your face, a little too eagerly. and okay, maybe it felt a little ridiculous being held like a hotdog, but then he was sucking on your bottom lip and all thoughts vanished.

nevertheless, part of you stayed alert. you cracked an eye open, peeking over his shoulder just in time to catch the end of theodore’s shoe disappearing around the corner. relief flooded your chest so fast it made you lightheaded. that same relief spilled into the kiss: you let your mouth part slightly, and mattheo took full advantage. his pink tongue slipped past your lips with ease.

you know this won’t be the last time theodore brings up that painfully embarrassing letter. he’s going to mention it again, of course he is. and why? you might have an idea, some vague guess buried under your denial. however, for now, you’ve bought yourself time. and that alone is enough to make you breathe a little easier.

you pulled away immediately, lips parting as you catched your breathe. mattheo’s gorgeous eyes fluttered open, long lashes framing that dangerously pretty stare: so intense they might as well have been weapons. he looked unreal. all dark eyes and flushed lips, like he’d stepped straight out of a dream.

you almost sighed just looking at him. how is it always the most beautiful men who turn out to be the absolute worst? evil, complicated, magnetic motherfuckers who ruin you with a kiss and don’t even flinch.

tags; @genterom903 @thaliashifts @benbarnesprettygurl @downbad4reid @wannagetnoodles @tjbfingfh @genterom903 @dishakidishakyahn @messageforthesmallestman @bluntzah

OMGGGG ts is so good, you always eat down i must say🙂‍↕️

Can’t wait for the next part☺️

Snake Eyes & Soft Kisses

Sneaking Neville into a Slytherin party was definitely against at least six different school rules. But you lived for bad decisions. Sides, the poor boy had to get out of the Gryffindor dorms once in a while.

"You'll be fine, Neville," you whispered, tugging him by the sleeve through the portrait's entrance. "Just act like you're supposed to be here."

"I'm clearly not supposed to be here!" he whisper-yelled, his eyes wide.

"You're dating me," you replied with a playful shrug. "That gives you, like, total diplomatic immunity or something."

"W-Were dating!?" he sputtered as he turned violently red.

You tossed a wink over your shoulder. "As far as they know," you teased.

Before Neville could even respond, you tugged firmly on his sleeve once more and led him into the Slytherin common room. The place was bustling with people, a lively chaos filling the space. Silver and green banners adorned the walls, draped haphazardly, their colors shimmering in the flickering green light. Enchanted cups hovered lazily above the crowd, bobbing gently. and someone was blaring The Weird sisters at an ungodly volume.

You tugged Neville towards the drinks table, completely ignoring the suspicious stares and whispers.

"Chill out, Nev. If anyone asks, just say you're with me. Now come on, have some fun!" you said with a grin, offering him a Butterbeer. He accepted the bottle obediently, despite the skeptical look he gave you.

Ten minutes later,

Everything was going great, better than he could have predicted, really. Neville grinned with nervous delight, a Butterbeer in his hand as he watched you from across the crowded common room. You were completely in your element, Even from a distance, he could see the infectious energy you channeled, the way you spun and twirled to the music, like no one else was around. It was a truly great moment. He almost relaxed.

Until Malfoy, teetering precariously on a table, his face flushed and eyes glazed, shouted over the music:

"Seven minutes in heaven!"

A few groans rippled through the room, others hollered and screamed in excitement. You looked across the room at Neville and saw him physically pale. He looked like he was ready to dive behind the nearest couch and hide there for the rest of night, you weren't having any of it. You crossed over and grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the center of the room.

Someone shoved a hat into the center of the circle, names were being scrawled down and tossed into the hat at lightning speed. You gave Neville your best innocent smile after putting a paper in,

"You put my name in there, didn't you?" he groaned

"Obviously." you giggled as he sighed and began to flush.

Neville was praying to Merlin that his name wouldn't be pulled, unfortunately, Slytherins are evil, the universe hates him, and no amount of prayer could ever save Neville.

"Longbottom and (Y/L/N)!" Pansy bellowed, grinning from ear to ear.

Neville froze.

You beamed.

Pansy shoved the two of you towards the closet, Neville stumbled inside, knocking over a broom. And you slammed the door behind you.

It was dark.

Very dark.

And very, very close.

He could practically feel you smirking.

"Congratulations, Neville." You said cheerfully, "You're officially corrupt."

Nevilled swallowed. Loudly. "W-we could just um. Talk? Play a game? N-not kiss?"

You laughed, low and teasing

"Sweetheart, you realize the whole point of this game is to kiss, right?"

Neville squeaked.

You stepped closer, and he swore he could feel the heat emanating from you in the tiny closet.

"N-not that I don't want to kiss you!" Neville blurted out, his voice cracking adorably. "I mean- You're perfect, y-you're gorgeous, but in a terrifying way. And you're really hot, and oh Merlin, I can't believe I just said that-"

You blinked, pleasantly surprised.

"...Neville Longbottom," you said, delighted, "Are you trying to flirt with me?" A silence hovered between you two as he shuffled a bit, then whispered shyly:

“…Maybe."

You grinned so wide it almost hurt. Before he could spiral into a nervous wreck, you playfully tugged him down by his tie and kissed him.

It was perfect. He bumped his nose against yours, you accidentally stepped on his foot, but regardless, It was perfect. Sweet and eager and so very Neville.

A quiet and needy moan caught in the back of his throat when you tangled your fingers into his hair. His hand grabbed onto your hips as your lips hungrily moved against his. When the two of you finally decided to pull apart for air, Neville pulled back and looked at you as if you were a goddess. Dazed and stunned and ridiculously kiss-drunk.

"...Wow.” he whispered faintly, You laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, just to watch him helplessly melt and smile. His eyes grew soft and vulnerable as the moment stretched between you. “D-does this mean we’re—”

He was cut off by the sound of the closet door bursting open.

"Okay lovebirds, times up! OUT!" Pansy screamed as she yanked you two out and pushed another pair into the closet.

You stumbled out of the cramped closet, your fingers still clutching tightly onto Neville's sleeve as you squinted against the green glow illuminating the common room. Neville wobbled, his feet stumbling over each other as he tried to keep you upright, his hand instinctively finding a firm grip on your right hip to steady you both.

The room erupted into a cacophony of cheers and wolf whistles, echoing off the stone walls.

Blaise, lounging with an air of smugness, casually tossed a shiny galleon towards Daphne. She caught it effortlessly, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. "Told you they'd snog before the three-minute mark," she commented.

Neville looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor. His ears were an unnatural shade of red as he ducked his head, mumbling something unintelligible. You, however, just laughed and placed his hand firmly in yours.

"You lot are just jealous!" you hollered back, not missing a beat. You yanked Neville close and wrapped your arms around his. "I bagged the best one."

That only made the Slytherins howl and yell louder. The moment passed though as Blaise and Daphne immediately went back to betting, this time it was on whether or not Mattheo and Theodore would claw each other to death or not. Someone shoved two Butterbeers into your hands, the music picked back up, and the Slytherin common room dissolved back into the buzzing chaos that only happened at the best kinds of parties.

"And to answer your question from earlier," you began softly, leaning closer to whisper in Neville's ear, "You're mine now, Longbottom."

As you pulled back, Neville's eyes sparkled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He gave you a lopsided grin, the kind that spoke volumes of his affections for you.

"Wasn't I always?"

I LOVE, I LIVE NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!! I love him so muchhhhh, my sweet boy😖

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ slytherin boys as minions

mattheo is so bob-coded it’s not even funny. he’ll punch someone in a hallway and then cry about a sad cat video 5 minutes later. like yeah he tries to act all tough and mysterious with the whole “i could kill you with my pinky finger” vibe, but deep down? he’s just bob. emotionally attached to random objects, maybe a hoodie or a lighter he found on the street. needs constant reassurance. would absolutely carry around a stuffed animal if he thought no one was watching. gets way too excited about the smallest things and then tries to play it off like he didn’t just light up like a golden retriever. chaotic but in a “please love me” way. has no idea what’s going on 80% of the time but will fight to the death for his friends (and win). he’s got that unhinged loyalty mixed with baby brother energy. everyone’s like “don’t let mattheo do that” and he’s already doing it with a grin and zero regard for consequences. bob in combat boots, basically.

theo is literally kevin with a wand. he’s the tall older sibling of the group who didn’t ask for this but somehow got stuck with the responsibility anyway. constantly cleaning up mattheo and enzo’s messes while muttering “i hate it here” under his breath. gives off “i’m above this” energy but will absolutely throw hands if someone messes with his friends. looks calm but is internally screaming 24/7. if he loses his book or his peace and quiet for even a second, it’s over. like, kevin is brave and protective, but also dramatic as hell when things don’t go his way. wants to be the hero, but ends up babysitting bob and stuart 24/7, just like theo with matt and enz. poor guy. reluctantly the dad friend. someone get him a stress ball. and send help. or coffee.

lorenzo berkshire is stuart in human form and there’s no convincing me otherwise. he’s got that chaotic middle-child energy—too cool to care, but somehow always in the middle of the drama. probably owns five guitars he can’t actually play and flirts his way out of detention. the type to accidentally set something on fire and say “oops” with wide eyes and zero remorse, then run away and blame someone else. lives for the bit. you think he’s not paying attention but he hears everything. gets bored in 2.5 seconds and starts annoying theo just for fun. somehow both the problem and the vibe. just stuart with better hair and abs tbh.

dividers by @kodaswrld

This is genuinely so creative and fun I love it so muchhh💕💕💕

me maladaptive daydreaming about the most recent ff i've read (i need psychological attention not an iphone)

[Slytherin Boys Random Text - Tom riddle's gang era]

Thaddeus Nott

Thaddeus ran his fingers over the canvas, feeling the texture of the freshly applied paint. His wand rested beside him, forgotten for the moment as he worked only with the senses that truly mattered.

The girl in front of him remained silent, watching him with curiosity. He didn’t need to see her to capture her essence—his hands had already memorized the structure of her face, the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her lips. Every brushstroke was guided by tactile memories, by fragments of a conversation, by the subtle sound of her breathing.

"Stop moving" he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She laughed, a brief and delicate sound.

"You can’t even see."

Thaddeus smirked.

"But I can feel."

And he kept painting, turning sensations into color.

OH YEAHHHHH😛😛 I want the dad and the son😔

Every time I see a twilight or tvd long x reader fic I get excited and then the name is like

" the other Swan"

" the forgotten Gilbert"

" the secret Mikaelson"

take your ass back to Wattpad because that shit is LAZY.

No adoption mentioned either, which could create such a nice explanation and allow us POC readers to feel like we're not immediately excluded.

And the lack of racial/ethnic diversity, where is your imagination? You could literally craft an entire plot about how your mc has come to be involved with these characters and that's what you go with?

And the mc doesn't have to somehow be more powerful than every other powerful character like, they can just be strong and powerful enough to hold their own y'know?

𐙚 ⋮ wc: 5.4k

𐙚 ⋮ content: pure embarrassment + foul language. if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.

𐙚 ⋮ TATBILB: au navigation.

POPULARITY IS ONE SON OF A BITCH.

there are people who walk through the halls of hogwarts unnoticed. faceless, nameless, and forgotten, they were tides in the sea of robes and magic. however, there were individuals who swam against the ripple of anonymity, refusing to be pulled under by the waves of inconspicuousness. they chose to make their own rules, navigate their own waters and leave a mark upon the shoreline.

instead of casting life's rope to haul them back from the edge, they were the hidden hands that shoved them in the first place. the ones who never meld into the background, who stand at the center of it all.

it’s strange to think about, isn’t it? there are always a few selected people who hold that kind of popularity. the ones others follow, not out of admiration, but out of some sort of restriction. it’s like walking through an art museum: every piece holds its own beauty, its own story, but there’s always those few masterpieces that draws every gaze. the kind people crowd around, whisper about, try to replicate, even if they’ll never quite capture its meaning.

their names are gossiped, their presence felt before they even step into a room. professors tolerate them, sometimes with amusement, sometimes with annoyance, because brilliance comes with mischief, and mischief is something they have in total; younger years either worship or fear them, the upper years watch them, peers are caught in the balance of wanting them and wanting to be them.

they are untouchable, not because they are out of reach, but because touching them means stepping too close to the flame.

and so, instead of burning, you wrote them letters.

each sealed with your feelings, mashed onto parchment, meant to stay hidden forever. not all at once, of course - each one over the years, like chapters in a story. it almost amused you, the way you somehow had a crush for every single one of them at different points in time, yet never once found the courage to confess.

that’s how it usually goes, isn’t it? you get caught up in silly crushes while growing up, and when you’re older, you look back at your desperation with nothing but secondhand embarrassment.

as you grew up, you randomly remembered all the absurd things you did just to catch their attention: only to let out a small, embarrassed noise at the memories. all the countless times you rearranged your schedule just to ‘accidentally’ bump into them in passing was laughable.

your books had been knocked from your arms by an older slytherin, an ugly sneer on his face as he strode past you. you barely had time to react before mattheo riddle - mattheo fucking riddle, a name already dipped in warnings stood before you. he didn’t ask if you were okay. he didn’t pick up your books for you like a storybook hero. no, riddle turned on his heel and shoved the fifth year’s books straight from his hands, scattering them across the corridor.

“whoops,” he had said. “looks like it’s your hands that don’t work.” the fifth year had shoved one of his larger books into your arms, then mockingly claimed that your hands were too sluggish and chubby to catch it. embarrassingly, you couldn’t help but wish riddle hadn’t been there to hear it.

despite the embarrassment, you spent weeks replaying that moment, the way his dark curls had fallen over his eyes, the way his confidence had filled the space like something out of a movie. it was the first time someone had made your heart stutter.

and so, you wrote.

a letter filled with the giddy, innocent wonder of a first crush, scribbled on parchment with ink stains and crossed out words. you had covered it in an explosion of glitter, carefully placing tiny stickers to give it the perfect touch.

zabini did not need anyone. from an early age, the boy carried a mood of some sort, instinctively drawn to self reliance in all things. that was the truth everyone knew about him. he was too untouchable, too above the idea of schoolyard romances. if mattheo riddle was fire, then blaise was ice, a frozen cube of a boy that never quite let himself break.

still, for a moment in second year, you thought maybe; you had seen a crack in the ice.

you had been paired with him in potions, a class where he normally worked alone because no one wanted to risk disappointing zabini. he was easily one of the smartest students in your year, his knowledge of potions so expansive it almost felt intimidating, like he saw the magic in every ingredient long before it touched the cauldron. gifted asshole.

but snape had made it clear that partners were mandatory that day, and so there you were, standing beside him, the sharp scent of crushed ingredients between you.

it was fine at first. civil, even.

“stop. you’re chopping it wrong,” blaise had murmured, reaching out before you could react, his hand grazing yours as he adjusted the knife in your grip.

your breath had caught. his fingers remained for a second longer than necessary before he pulled away. the earth had wobbled. not because of the correction, but because blaise zabini did not touch people unnecessarily.

you remembered how, every time his friends tried to pull him into a hug, he would shove them away with a hand to their chest, only for it to escalate into a scuffle that often ended with them tumbling to the ground. it always happened out of nowhere, drawing stares from those around them; but they seemed to drink in the attention. you always seemed to long for a sip of it too, watching them with an almost obsessive focus. creepy, yes, but it was just a silly schoolgirl crush, it didn’t really matter.

however, later that night, you had written a letter.

draco malfoy had always been draco malfoy. loud. annoying. annoying. annoying. did you mention annoying already? a boy whose existence grated on every nerve. but as third year descended upon hogwarts, something changed.

it was the hair.

it was ridiculous how something so simple could make someone entirely different, but when he came back from summer with that platinum blond hair perfectly styled, suddenly, the world saw him in a new light. and so did you. malfoy had always been an insufferable son of a bitch, and he still very much was: only now, he had a new hairstyle to go with it.

it was dumb. but one day, you had found yourself watching him across the great hall, and when he caught you staring, he had smirked.

and, godric help you, you flushed.

that night, you wrote a letter - shorter than the others, but still decorated in the same girlish, glittery way before tucking it safely into a round, blue box with a little bow on top. and even though the crush had only lasted a week, the embarrassment of it still hung back.

you had always been decent at flying. not extraordinary, not the kind of player who hailed attention like the house team’s star chasers, but you could hold your own. that day, though, something felt off. maybe it was the cold stiffening your fingers. maybe it was the distraction of the game, the way bodies blurred past you in streaks of yellow and green.

maybe it was the fact that theodore nott was playing beater. maybe that was why your nerves felt stretched thin: he was, without question, one of the best beaters on the pitch. it shouldn’t have mattered. he was just another slytherin on the field, just another figure snipping through the sky with alleviation.

somehow, you found your gaze catching on him more than once: on the way his hands gripped the bat, the control he had over his broom, as if flying were something that came as naturally as breathing.

you weren’t supposed to be looking at him when it happened. the bludger came out of nowhere.

one second, you were watching the quaffle switch hands, and the next, a ball of iron was hurtling straight toward you. fast. far too fucking fast. your breath caught in your throat, because there was no time to move, no time to —

despite the panic crashing through your veins, he emerged: quick and silently, a shadow pruning through the storm.

theodore gashed through the sky in a single movement, swinging his bat with just enough force to deflect the bludger at the last possible second. the impact sent a violent crack resonating through the wind.

your stomach dropped. his arm must have taken most of the force. surely it hurt like a bitch: but he didn’t let it show.

before you knew it, just like that, he was gone. back into the fray, back into the sky. you didn’t move right away: heart still racing, hands clenched tight around your broomstick. he could have easily let the bludger hit you, easily giving his team the upper hand. and while you knew you’d have done the same for anyone in danger, the thought still sent a tickle to your ears.

you had never thought much about theodore nott before. he was clever, yes. mysterious, in that way that made people whisper about him. but he had always been distant: detached.

but today, for one second, he had been close. and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. so you wrote. wrote about how maybe you had always liked him, even before you realized it.

lorenzo berkshire was never supposed to be someone you found yourself crushing on. you thought your feelings would have stopped at theodore: liking four out of the six of them was already absurd enough.

but then he laughed.

it was stupid. so fucking stupid. but enzo had this laugh: the kind that made you want to laugh too, even if you had no idea what was so funny. perhaps it was the way his eyes crinkled at the corners that made him look endearingly boyish, despite the sculpted lines of his jaw and the sharp, clever glint in his eye. or maybe it was the way he threw his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat.

he was one of the boys in their group you spoke to occasionally, the one who was easier to approach than the others, his presence devoid of the edge that made the rest so intimidating. so when he slipped into the seat next to you in charms, leaving behind his friends after yet another fight, it didn’t surprise you.

and by fight, you meant an actual, fisted brawl: busted lip, black eye, and all. riddle had a band-aid across his nose, making it instantly clear who he’d been sparring with.

in charms, you figured he must’ve gotten bored, because suddenly he leaned over and whispered some ridiculous joke in your ear. and you laughed: not because it was the funniest thing in the world, but because it was so stupid. he laughed too. there was something oddly beautiful about the sound of his laughter, so you joined in, making jokes about how riddle was probably furious while berkshire was living his best life sitting next to you. (they made up after class.)

he transformed into something more than just one of your crushes’ friends — he became the crush. so, you wrote.

by the next month, the crush had faded, leaving you cursing yourself for your impulsive habit: to inscribe upon the parchment the instant that a soul kindles a spark within your heart.

by sixth year, you had moved on, wrapped up in dating a gryffindor boy, grateful that the names inked in those forgotten love letters no longer remained in your mind. they were only passing figures in the corridors, familiar faces you sometimes partnered with in class, but never again did they stir that same breathless, schoolgirl longing.

by seventh year, when you and said gryffindor boy chose to go your separate ways, the love letters remained untouched, slipping into the deepness of your memory; once burning ink of passion that now pales like the final breath of a dying star, carved upon parchment that crumbles to dust at the merest touch.

“WHAT’S THIS?”

you lift your head from where you were picking at a piece of chewing gum that had exploded in your mouth, still tingling from whatever weasley concoction had made it fizzle. you look over at luna as she holds up a box: not just any box, which is what catches your full attention. a blue, circle shaped box with a bow at the top.

blue. circle shaped. box. bow.

your stomach drops.

no. no. no. no.

you know the feeling you get when you're on a rollercoaster at the very top, the panic rushing to your stomach and throat as the impact is about to come? that's exactly how you feel right this very moment.

you push yourself off the floor in a panic, scrambling toward her, but it’s too late. she’s already lifted the lid, her pale blue eyes scanning inside with that dreamy curiosity of hers. merlin, you wanted to die. right then and there. wanted the floor to crack open and swallow you whole. you hadn’t laid a finger on that box in nearly two years. the last time you wrote a letter, in a moment of horror, you thought, what if someone finds these? so you shoved them away, crossed your heart and hoped to die than go near that box again.

but of course, fate wasn't on your side. not that it ever truly was, but this time, it made it unmistakably clear. like a puppeteer pulling strings, it yanked you off the verge of chance and flung you into the void of assurance.

every year, the hufflepuff dorms shift to make space for new students, which means cleaning up to make room for a possible new roommate. and because you had too much stuff, you asked luna to help you sort through it all. a terrible mistake: you really should have checked what you were asking her to go through first.

her pale fingers skim over the parchment, eyes tracing the familiar loops and slants of your handwriting. “oh,” luna says, blinking at the letters inside. “these are love letters.” thanks luna, for pointing out the obvious: it’s not like those letters aren’t the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever written!

you snatch the box from her hands, heart skipping as you clutch it against your chest. “luna — why were you in my trunk?” you had told the girl to arrange items on your desk, not your trunk.

she tilts her platinum head of hair, radish earrings swinging. “i was looking for my spectrespecs. thought i might’ve left them in there.” she smiles. “but this is much more entrancing.”

your mouth opens and closes like a fish. “they’re old. i wrote them ages ago.” two years, to be exact. “it doesn’t matter.”

luna, of course, does not believe that. she hums, leaning forward, inspecting you in that knowing way she always does, like she’s peering into the inner workings of your mind. it always terrified you when she would halt all her movements just to read you, but that was her unique way of observing, so eventually, you grew used to it. “did you ever send them?”

you hesitate.

“aha!” she squeals. “you didn’t.” if there was one thing you and your best friend shared, it was a love for romance novels. while getting lost in the world of fiction was always fun, telling her about your love letters was an immediate no. you knew she’d never stop talking about it if she found out. the huge smile on her thin lips only confirmed it, her face was practically shouting: love story in the making?

you immediately shut it down. a heavy sigh escapes the back of your throat as you flop back onto the bed, pressing the box against your forehead. “‘course not. they were never meant to be sent.”

they never were, actually. these letters were meant for you and the little scenarios you’d create in your mind before bed, depending on which crush you were thinking about, imagining a future together: all that ‘girl with a crush on a boy’ shit.

there was a second long silence before you felt the box shift against your forehead. luna casually plucked a letter from it, inspecting the name scribbled on the front.

maybe you should’ve gotten up immediately and snatched the letter from her hands, but she had already read the first name — written sloppily with purple glitter tracing his first name and the ‘i’ in his last name, which, instead of being a simple dot, had been transformed into a small heart.

you didn’t need to see it to know exactly which one she was holding.

riddle. first year you had been ridiculous: writing a letter to him, of all people, convinced it was a safe way to get over your wide eyed crush. you had told yourself it would just sit in the box forever, silly childhood feelings.

it was hidden, in a place you thought was secure, a secret you’d protected with careful hands. but no matter how well you concealed it, some things, like truth — could only remain in the dark for so long. “mattheo riddle.” luna’s soft voice spoke his name in a delicate tune. you knew it was only the sweetness of luna’s angelic saying that softened it. “isn’t he dating sylvia?”

god, just hearing your ex best friend’s name made you scoff under your breath, barely suppressing the irritation; to cut a long story short, you and sylvia had the most horrible fallout in fourth year, and you’d rather not utter her name again — ever — or delve into anything that even remotely tied you to her. “yeah, follows her around like a fuckin’ puppy.” you knew you were being a bit of a hater toward their relationship, by the simple bias you had against sylvia. but, to be fair, it was hard to ignore them when she made it her mission to be all lovey dovey and kissy faced with riddle, especially while you were still dating that gryffindor boy.

it was only day two since you’d arrived at hogwarts for your eighth and final year, and you were honestly surprised sylvia hadn’t come to bother you yet. maybe some sort of fucking miracle change had occurred over the summer, and she’d finally decided to leave people who couldn’t tolerate her alone.

you rip the letter from luna’s fingers, shoving it back into the box with the others. “this stays between us, okay? no one can ever see these.”

and not to mention, if sylvia ever found out you’d written a love letter to her boyfriend, doesn’t matter if it was years ago, she wouldn’t even get angry. instead, you knew she’d have a field day shoving it in your face — something she already did: but this time, she’d take it to a whole new level. you knew that wicked, manipulative side of her all too well, sadly.

luna hums again. “you should be more careful about where you keep things.” you certainly were now. though, there’s something almost impish about the way she says it, but before you can press her on it, a group of hufflepuffs come barging into the dorm, disrupting the moment.

it’s fine, you tell yourself. the letters are safe.

“I NEED YOUR HELP.”

you’re sitting in your usual spot in class, when cedric sits beside you, leans over, a somewhat flustered expression on his face. diggory has been one of your closest friends since first year: alongside sylvia and luna. but where loyalties knotted and lines were drawn, he had the luxury of neutrality. instead of choosing sides, he floated between both circles.

he stayed with sylvia when riddle wasn’t shadowing her like some overprotective bodyguard. and when he wasn’t in her rotation, he was with you and luna.

you throw a quick glance toward professor flitwick, who was preoccupied a few rows away, attentively guiding a student through their spellwork. with his focus elsewhere, there was little chance he’d notice the two of you whispering. turning back to cedric, you tilted your head slightly. “with?”

“y’know,” he starts in a quiet voice, glancing around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping, “cho’s a bit… of a clean freak, yeah?” he makes a hand gesture, almost comically over exaggerating.

you raise an eyebrow, not sure where this conversation is going.

he continues, now looking thoroughly embarrassed, but still trying to keep the conversation light. “she’s… y’know, super into everything being pristine. like, even when… y’know, we get a bit… close.” he pauses, his face flushing a little more.

“i just can’t, well… finish, if you know what i mean. it’s like… the pressure? she’s all, ‘make sure the sheets are perfect,’ and i’m over here just trying to survive.”

you blink a few times, surprised, but you can’t help but chuckle at cedric’s awkwardness. “you’re saying the pressure of cleanliness is ruining your… performance?” you ask, trying to suppress your laughter.

it was far from a laughing matter for him, but for you? oh, it was nearly impossible to keep a straight face. how could he just drop something like that so casually — in a room full of witches and wizards meant to be focused on their work? the nonsense of it made your shoulders tense with the effort of holding back laughter. with everything else in class feeling mind numbingly dull, this was, without a doubt, the most fascinating thing you’d heard all class. and someone help you, because all you wanted to do was let out the most loudest, full bodied laugh.

he rolls his eyes miserably, looking like he’s about to sink into the ground. “exactly. i can’t even you know… the thing. the thing,” he says, waving his hand around dramatically, as if to symbolize the entire awkward experience.

despite your urge to laugh a little longer, you could tell cedric was genuinely looking for advice. you bit back your enjoyment and stole another glance at flitwick: still distracted, before turning your attention back to cedric. he had already taken advantage of your momentary silence, casually copying from your notes to make up for the time he’d missed.

they were probably all wrong; but hey, that was his problem for copying off a hufflepuff instead of a damn ravenclaw. “okay, okay, cedric, listen. first off, you need to get it through her mind to let go of the idea that everything has to be perfect. it’s not the sheets, it’s the vibe. a clean environment? sure. but obsessing over every little detail just makes it worse.”

cedric looks at you in disbelief, clearly not expecting such a level headed answer. or any answer at all. “really?” he asks, looking all hopeful.

“really,” you confirm, nodding. “you’ve gotta relax. stop thinking about the perfect moment and just… be in the moment. and as for the ‘finishing’ part, take your time. It’s about… comfort, not pressure.” you wouldn’t lie: your experience didn’t extend far beyond kissing and holding hands. your relationship with the gryffindor had never past that, never lurched into something deeper. you were painting a picture of what ideal intimacy looked like to you; what would make you feel safe, at ease. and though it was your vision, your creation, you found yourself wanting nothing more than for someone to step inside the canvas and become part of the art.

it was almost ironic: everyone always came to you for advice, yet you rarely took your own. it put things into perspective in a way that was a little tragic.

cedric’s eyes widen, processing what you’ve said. “you really think that would work?” he asks, a little unsure but clearly willing to try anything at this point.

you give him a nod. “trust me. and maybe, you know, leave the cleaning for after. that way, you’re not worried about, well, ruining anything.” you add. “also, stop making the hand motions. those aren’t helping anyone.” if everyone weren’t so absorbed in their own work and happened to catch cedric’s hand gestures, you didn’t even want to imagine what judgments they’d draw about your conversation.

cedric laughs. “alright, alright. i’ll give it a try. thanks.” he gives you a playful nudge. “if you ever need tips for anything else, just let me know. you’re the expert, apparently.”

you roll your eyes. “don’t push it, cedric. just focus on your work for now, yeah?”

“yes, ma’am,” he muttered before turning back to his work, quill scratching against parchment. you did the same, shifting your focus back to your own notes, carefully transcribing the movements of flitwick’s wand as it traced patterns in the air.

for a few moments, silence settled over the classroom. the only sound was flitwick’s instructions, guiding the class through each exact motion. everyone was focused. everything was still. it was peaceful.

but that peace shattered the moment the heavy classroom door slammed open.

all at once, heads snapped toward the door. even professor flitwick faltered mid sentence, trailing off into silence as he blinked in confusion. leaning lazily against the doorframe stood mattheo. which was odd: he had no reason to be here. ravenclaws and slytherins were meant to be across the castle for care of magical creatures right now; you knew that for a fact. luna had been so eager for class this morning that she hadn’t even waited for you at breakfast, already slipping away with an excited bounce in her step.

as always, the room fell into silence. a gryffindor girl near the front shot her friend a look, brows furrowed in silent question. beside you, cedric exhaled a quiet sigh, muttering under his breath, “wrong class.”

mattheo riddle despised gryffindors and hufflepuffs, and the feeling was entirely mutual: no middle ground, no exceptions. hufflepuffs are kind, yes, but when it comes to mattheo and his group, it’s like their breaking point.

completely unfazed, riddle let his gaze sweep across the room, scanning faces as if searching for someone. and then, his eyes found you. they didn’t flicker away, didn’t move past you like just another face in the crowd. no, they locked onto you with the confidence of someone who had found exactly what he was looking for.

in that terrifying moment, you swore on neville longbottom’s life that your soul nearly departed from your body.

mattheo pushed off the doorframe and strode inside. every row he passed seemed to turn in his path, eyes tracking his every move. you nearly rolled your eyes at the way his smirk deepened; clearly enjoying the attention. like always.

his presence was a dark sun, and all eyes were planets drawn irrevocably into rotation. you were an asteroid, hurtling through the crowded solar system, every smile was a meteor shower you wished would burn up the popular crowd, every laugh a supernova you hoped would consume their perfect little world.

professor flitwick frowned slightly but didn’t immediately criticize him. “mr. riddle, i believe you’re mistaken — this class is for hufflepuffs and gryffindors. your schedule should place you elsewhere.”

mattheo’s dark eyes flicked to him, a stupid smirk tugging at his rosy lips. “yeah, i know,” he said smoothly. “but i needed to borrow one of your students for something important.”

shit, shit, shit, please don’t let it be you. please don’t let it be you.

there were murmurs throughout the classroom now, people whispering theories to each other. some gryffindors looked annoyed, some hufflepuffs curious. no matter how much they despise him, being seen leaving class with mattheo riddle would boost their social status and popularity, making them a little more well known. no one, however, seemed more confused than you: because you could feel mattheo’s gaze settle directly on you.

what did he want? did sylvia send him to get you? or was there something else you were needed for? fuck, maybe it wasn’t even you —

“the girl right there.” riddle pointed directly at you. you tried to hide behind your book, really, you did. “next to diggory.” cedric, being the oblivious idiot he is, raised his hand so everyone could see exactly who he meant.

you pinched the side of his stomach, causing cedric’s pale hand to snap back down. you shot him a glare. “fuck you,” you whispered. especially since you’d just given him the best advice of his life. hell, you were even considering taking it for yourself. now, you couldn’t help but hope this fucker had the worst sex life in existence.

you could feel the stares: on the side of your face, at the back of your head, right in front of you. the students in the rows ahead twisted in their seats, one arm resting behind their chairs, heads tilted as they all get a look at you.

professor flitwick narrowed his eyes. he wasn’t stupid enough to be deluded; he knew about riddle and his lies. “and what exactly is this ‘something important’?”

mattheo didn’t hesitate. “professor snape asked me to fetch her. something about a -” he made a mixing gesture with his hand. “ - mix up with her potions essay. he wants to see her now.”

you frowned. that was… odd. you were sure you had turned in your essay on time. and why would snape send riddle to retrieve you of all people? professor flitwick, still hesitant, studied mattheo for a moment before sighing. “very well. but do come straight back once this is sorted.”

you barely had a moment to process what was unfolding before mattheo turned on his heel and strode out of the classroom. your heart raced as you scrambled to gather your things, the whispers around you growing louder by the second. you refused to acknowledge them, shooting cedric one last disgusted curl of your lips before following riddle out of the room, where he had already walked out.

as soon as you stepped into the corridor, the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind you, silencing the muffled talk from the classroom. now, it was just you and riddle, standing alone in said corridor. he had his hands tucked in his pockets, waiting. you turned to face him, confusion clouding your thoughts. hadn’t he said snape wanted to see you? “alright, what’s —”

then you saw it.

no. not this. why now? why you? why here? why ever? why are you alive right now?

the letter.

the same letter luna had found in your dormitory just nights ago was now in mattheo’s hands — glittering and covered in stickers. your breath caught in your throat. “where did you get that?” you asked, and fuck, your voice cracked just a little. the embarrassment pressed down on you, layer after layer. please, someone, anyone, say this is a joke. step out from behind the stone walls and shout ‘april fools’ — anything to stop this moment from being real. because, in that instant, you felt like you might actually faint from humiliation.

mattheo’s expression was weird as he twirled the letter between his fingers, eyes gleaming with something just as weird. everything felt so fuckin’ weird, weird, weird. “so,” he titled his head. “you have a habit of writing love letters, huh?”

“to five different guys? in the same friend group?” he said, then let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a smirk. “what a fuckin’ heartbreaker you are, baby.” your mind went blank. he knows. he fucking knows about the other letters. panic flooded through you like a wave. shit, shit, shit. this is bad. this is really bad. this could only mean one thing:

the letters are out.

all of them.

WTFFFF, I’m such a Lara Jean girly the first thing that came to mind was tatbilb when I saw love letters😭 but yeah I’d kms if that happened to me lmaoo

Can’t wait for moree 💕💕

𝙒𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙙 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚

summary: You were never meant to leave.

characters: mad hatter! mattheo. cheshire cat! enzo. caterpillar! theo. white rabbit! draco. alice! reader

warnings: DARK! blood, weird, creepy vibes. mentions of death and gore.

word count: 1.4k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭

The garden twisted around you like a living thing. The air was thick, suffocating, laced with the scent of the damp earth and something ugly, something rotting. The statues lining the hedges weren't right- cracks webbed their marbled faces, their mouths frozen mid scream, their hollow eyes dripping black.

And then there was a boy.

Draco Malfoy

His coat, though still pristine white, was torn at the edges, as if something had been gnawing at the fabric. His skin was too pale, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he ran- no, staggered- past you, clutching a golden pocket watch so hard his fingers had gone bloodless.

"Too late-too late- bloody hell- I'm too late-"

His voice was hoarse, raw with panic. But it was the sound behind him that made the blood in your veins run cold.

A skittering. Fast. Wet. Wrong.

Draco turned his head- just for a moment. That was all it took.

The shadows lurched from the hedges, something long and many- limbed slithered in from the dark.

And then he was gone.

No scream.

Just the sound of bone snapping.

Silence fell.

The garden seemed to breath.

You go to turn to run, this couldn't be right, but the ground was no longer beneath you.

The world collapsed into a vast, gaping, dark hole.

and you fell.

-

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬

When you hit the ground, it moved.

The earth was slick, pulsing, as if you had landed atop of something alive. The air was stagnant, filled with the metallic scent of blood.

The trees stretched impossibly high, their bark dark and gooey, as if they had been crying thick, black tar. No leaves. No wind. Only stillness.

And then-

Laughter.

Low and amused.

"Lost are we, Alice?"

Your breath hitched.

Enzo Berkshire lounged in the branches above, half hidden in the twisting dark. His eyes gleamed, wide and reflective like an animal's, catching the dim, unnatural light. His grin was too sharp. Too wide.

Like his mouth had been cut open just to stretch that far.

"Where-" You voice caught. Your throat burned. You swallowed, trying this again. "Where am I?"

Enzo tilted his head, the movement slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up prey.

"Now that's a question," he murmured. His voice slithered through the silence, curling around your ribs, tightening. "But I have a better one."

His grin widened and stretched.

"How long do you think you'll last?"

You felt something shift around you.

A wet, scraping sound.

Shallow breaths.

You turned-

And froze.

The trees weren't trees at all.

They were bodies.

Twisted, gnarled figures with their mouths sewn shut, their limbs stretched and fused into a grotesque, bark covered forms. Their fingers twitched. Eyes rolled in the sunken sockets, black tears leaking from the corners.

One of them moved.

Its jaw, half-unstitched, creaked open. A single, whispered word slipped free-

"Run."

You did.

Your feet slamming on the shaking ground as Enzo’s laugh cackled around the edges of the forest.

-

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳

The deeper you went. The worse it became.

The sky overhead was off- not a sky at all, but writhing mass of shifting shapes, twisting in ways that made your stomach clench. Something was moving up there. Watching.

Then- a towering shape loomed before you .

A mushroom.

But it was rotting. Black and moldy. Dripping ooze from its thick, bloated stalk, and the smell- God, the smell- was unbearable, heavy with the stench of death.

Atop the mushroom sat him.

Theo Nott.

His long coat was tattered, frayed, and stained with something too dark, something red. His fingers moved idly over the steam of a pipe, inhaling deep, slow breaths. The smoke curled unnaturally, forming shifting shapes that resembled faces.

They were twisted, screaming with no sound, before they disappeared into the air.

He exhaled, and the voices wisped around you.

"You've already lost," Theo muttered, his voice low, knowing.

Your stomach twisted. "Lost what?"

Theo smiled- it was small, at the edge of his lips, yet the tiny gesture was unsettling.

"Yourself."

The voices grew louder as the smoke moved towards you, circling around your fingers, slipping beneath your skin. You could feel them. The ghosts of Wonderland. The ones who had come before. The ones who had gone mad.

You stumble back, choking on the scent of burnt flesh.

Theo's gaze followed you lazily, half-lidded, bored. "I would run if I were you."

The trees contorted violently, their skeletal branches snapping and twisting as if something was crawling beneath their bark, trying to get out. The ground groaned in response.

You took it as a sign to keep running.

-

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺

The tea party was a graveyard.

A massive table stretched before you, impossibly long, its wood blackened and splintered, gouges cut deep in its surface. The chairs were overturned, some shattered into jagged remains. The dishes were broke, porcelain shards glinting like teeth in the dim light.

And the bodies-

They sat in their seats, their faces frozen in time, twisted in horror. Their hands were clawed at their throats, their skin sunken and grey. Rot clung to their bones, the scent was cloying, making you nauseous.

And at the head of it all-

Mattheo Riddle

The king of the mad.

He lounged in his throne-like chair, legs stretched out, fingers idly tapping against the armrest. His top hat sat at an angle, casting his face in a shadow. His smirk was lazy, but his eyes-

His eyes.

They were dark, endless pits, something alive shifting within them, swirling like the sky above.

"Finally," he mused, his voice smooth and deep. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

Yow swallowed hard. "What is this place?"

Mattheo chuckled. "You already know, don't you?"

The shadows around the tables moved.

The corpses had turned to look at you.

Hands- rotting, bones- began to twitch, fingers curled.

It had felt like their stares had sucked the air from your lungs, your soul.

Mattheo stood, slowly, like he had all the time in the world. "You still think you can leave, don't you?" he tsked, taking a measured step towards you. The candlelight flickered in his gaze, casting a sharp gleam across his smirk. "Poor, sweet Alice. Always clinging to hope."

You stumbled back, but the moment you moved, the shadows shifted to close you in. The walls seemed further away, stretching into an endless abyss.

Mattheo shook his head.

"You don't understand yet, do you?" His voice was soft, almost gentle as he reached for you, fingers cold as they traced down your arm. "You've been drinking the tea, breathing the smoke, listening to the wind." His smirk widened, and you could see the madness curling beneath his skin. "Wonderland has already seeped into your veins."

His grip tightened.

"And there's no going back."

You pulse hammered. "I-I'm not like you."

Mattheo laughed- low and weighted, the sound settling around you much likes vines that started to take over a building. "Oh, but you are." He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You were never sane to begin with."

The room twisted. The walls melted, dripping like wax. The floor buckled, and suddenly you were falling, falling-

Mattheo's voice followed you into the abyss.

"You're just as mad as the rest of us, Alice."

⟡ ݁₊ .i was so sleep deprived coming home from work that i thought of this in the car. i have plans for a next part!

OMGGG?? Wonderland Slytherin Boys??! I’m actually so invested I fear you’ve opened a whole new world for me.

▷ [the video opens with theodore and mattheo standing in front of the camera, looking way too confident for two people about to make terrible life choices.]

the screen sharpens as the lens adjusts. a low hum fills the room as blaise, standing behind the camera, taps the record button. the small red light blinks, signaling they’re live. theodore shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back like he’s preparing for battle. next to him, mattheo runs a hand through his messy curls, cracking his neck slightly before straightening up, his face settling into something that could almost be considered serious - if not for the telltale gleam of trouble in his eyes.

“is it on?” theodore asks, his gaze flicking up to blaise.

blaise barely glances up from the camera screen, giving a lazy thumbs up. “on.”

theodore clears his throat, smirking slightly as he leans forward. “welcome, assho -“ he abruptly stops, grimacing. “no, that was bad. let’s do it again.” blaise exhales sharply, rolling his eyes, but nonetheless stops recording. he presses the button again, lifting his hand in a wordless signal for take two.

theodore doesn’t waste a second. “welcome, to ‘how to sneak into a ravenclaw party 101.’” he swings his elbow into mattheo’s side, prompting him to jump back into reality.

riddle blinks, clearly having spaced out, but recovers fast. “uh - uhm, otherwise known as ‘how to get hexed so badly your own mother won’t recognize you.’” there’s silence. blaise crinkles his nose behind the camera, unimpressed. mattheo, catching the judgment, awkwardly shifts in his seat, eyes darting away.

theodore decides to continue. “we are experts in this field.”

mattheo’s brows knit together, his lips parting slightly in visible confusion. “really?” the disbelief is so genuine that theodore actually turns to stare at him.

he says nothing. just blinks. hard.

choosing to move on rather than acknowledging the idiot, theodore smooths a hand over his shirt and powers forward. “ravenclaws are some of the hardest people to manipulate -“ “- yeah, ‘cause they have brains,” mattheo interrupts, stretching his arms behind his head with an easy smirk.

theodore does not ignore that. “excuse me? i have brains.”

mattheo snorts. “you have half of one.”

and it’s at this moment that theodore seriously contemplates murder. blaise lets out a barely contained chuckle from behind the camera, and theodore’s head snaps toward him like a predator catching movement. “i better not hear any heavy breathing from you when i rewatch this footage.” his voice is stern as he points an accusing finger toward blaise.

completely unbothered, blaise sticks his middle finger up at the camera, effectively blocking theodore from view.

nott exhales sharply through his nose, gathering what little patience he has left, and resumes his explanation. “the thing about ravenclaws is they think they’re smarter than everyone -“

“which they are,” mattheo interjects immediately. facts.

“which they are not,” theodore snaps back, his voice carrying just a bit more frustration now. salty morherfucker.

mattheo stares at him. “dude, even you know that’s a lie.”

theodore holds eye contact with the camera. he does not speak. he does not blink.

mattheo raises an eyebrow, waiting.

theodore exhales. “shut up.” without missing a beat, he carries on. “anyway, we have first hand experience with ravenclaws. i, for one, was just in detention with one -“

▷ [the video cuts abruptly, transitioning to a more composed - yet clearly exasperated - scene. the camera is now focused on you, seated in what can only be described as a “confessional” chair. the lighting is dimmer, dramatic even, casting just the right amount of shadow to make it look like you’re in some sort of witness protection interview rather than part of an idiotic scheme.]

you cross one leg over the other, adjusting slightly in your seat as you let out a long sigh. your expression is one of pure exhaustion, like you’ve been forced to endure nonsense for far too long.

“let’s get one thing straight,” you begin, voice degraded. “the only reason i had detention in the first place was because i was trying to protect my peace.”

▷ [ the camera zooms in slightly, as if to emphasize the seriousness of your words.]

“i simply attempted to cast a small, harmless spell - barely a flick of my wand - at a snake who, in my eyes, completely deserved it. and honestly?” you shrug, tilting your head slightly. “i regret nothing.”

▷ [dramatic pause.]

you lean forward slightly, lowering your voice like you’re about to share some classified information. “if anything, i should’ve aimed better.”

▷ [cut back to mattheo and theodore, who are now watching the playback of your confessional on the camera screen.]

mattheo glanced over at theodore, watching as his friend sat there, blinking repeatedly - like his brain was struggling to process what he had heard. nott scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes as he echoed your words in mock disbelief. “harmless. right. because hexing me is just an act of inner peace, apparently.”

“right, well, moving on - here’s the foolproof way to sneak into a ravenclaw party,” mattheo announced confidently, despite the fact that absolutely nothing about what they were about to do was foolproof.

[CUT TO: STEP ONE – BLENDING IN]

▷ [theodore and mattheo have thrown on blue scarves and glasses, looking painfully out of place.]

“step one — look the part.” mattheo spread his arms out dramatically before doing a full spin, showing off his thrown together outfit. he came to a stop, running a hand through his hair before shooting the camera a smug grin.

“ravenclaws dress like they’re on their way to win an academic decathlon,” he declared.

beside him, theodore adjusted the pair of glasses perched on the tip of his nose. they wobbled slightly, clearly not his prescription, but he made no effort to fix them. instead, he straightened his posture and nodded seriously. “this,” he gestured to himself with both hands, “is how you impress.”

▷ [a ravenclaw guy walks past them, takes one look at theodore, and goes, “you’re an idiot,” before walking off.]

▷ [cut to mattheo and theodore looking defeated.]

“so… that didn’t work.”

as if on cue, the glasses perched precariously on the tip of theodore’s nose finally gave up, slipping off and landing in his lap. at the same time, the ridiculous hat sitting atop mattheo’s curls tilted to the side, threatening to slide off completely.

▷ [awkward silence followed.]

from behind the camera, blaise casually blew into a small, crumpled party horn he had apparently found on the floor. the weak, pathetic squeak it let out only made the moment even worse.

[CUT TO: STEP TWO - ANSWERING THE RIDDLE]

▷ [they stand in front of the ravenclaw common room door. the knocker asks: “what is always coming but never arrives?”]

theodore turned to mattheo, still nursing the wound to his ego after catching a completely unprovoked insult from a passing ravenclaw boy during step one.

he was looking for some kind of reassurance, maybe even a distraction. what he got instead was mattheo blinking at him, having no answer to the knocker, completely clueless, before responding:

“your mother.”

▷ [the door does not open.]

▷ [the camera zoomed in on theodore’s blank expression, capturing the exact moment he realized he had made a grave mistake.]

theodore exhales sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides as an overwhelming urge to slap the absolute shit out of mattheo takes over. giving in, he grunts and smacks the back of riddle’s head - not hard enough to actually hurt, but just enough to make a statement.

“what is wrong with you?” theodore demands, exasperation leaking into every word. “it’s always ‘mother this, mother that’ — for the love of your mother, shut the fuck up!”

blaise mutters from behind the camera, “he has mommy issues.” mattheo nods. “i have mommy issues.”

▷ [the video abruptly shifts, the camera following you as you casually stroll past the trio, completely unbothered. your eyes flick to theodore, brows furrowing in clear confusion - silently asking, why are you near my common room?]

theodore shoots you an equally confused look right back, as if you’re the one in the wrong for questioning his presence.

ignoring them, you mutter your password under your breath, the entrance smoothly swinging open as you slip inside without a second glance.

▷ [the camera lingers on the now sealed entrance before slowly panning back to theodore and mattheo, who exchange a look. then, in unison, they turn to blaise — desperate, hopeful.]

SPOILER ALERT: not a single one of them had caught the password you said.

[CUT TO: STEP THREE – BRIBERY]

▷ [theodore is holding a bag of galleons and talking to a smug looking ravenclaw.]

the two slytherins prowled around the seated ravenclaw boy like wolves circling their prey, each taking turns trying to intimidate him. theodore leaned in just enough to invade his personal space, while mattheo cracked his knuckles dramatically. it was a well rehearsed routine - one that usually worked.

but not on this fucking guy.

theodore finally stopped directly in front of him, leveling him with a look before sighing and pulling out the ultimate slytherin bargaining chip. “i’ll give you money if you let us in.”

the ravenclaw didn’t even flinch. he didn’t look scared, intimidated, or even remotely bothered. in fact, if anything, he looked amused.

and that pissed theodore the fuck off.

the boy simply shrugged, tilting his head toward the entrance. “the door’s right there. just answer the riddle.”

▷ [the camera zoomed in on theodore’s expression before panning to mattheo, who dramatically threw his hands in the air and pointed at the ravenclaw in sheer disbelief.]

“i hate you,” mattheo declared.

[CUT TO: STEP FOUR – THE DISTRACTION PLAN ]

▷ [mattheo is standing in front of a group of ravenclaws with a dramatic expression.]

mattheo glanced over at blaise and theodore, who were crouched behind a bush, the camera angle perfectly capturing the scene without alerting the group of ravenclaws to their presence.

riddle inhaled deeply. with one final glance at his friends, he took a step forward, his voice booming across the courtyard. “THERE’S A FIRE IN THE LIBRARY!”

▷ [the camera pans to show that literally no one reacts because, realistically, that’s the last place a ravenclaw would let burn down.]

[CUT TO: STEP FIVE – PLAN B]

▷ [mattheo and theodore simply attempt to sprint past a group of ravenclaws at the entrance.]

▷ [they are immediately hexed.]

▷ [the camera jerks suddenly, refocusing as it zooms in on you. you’re visibly tipsy, eyes slightly glazed, grinning from ear to ear as you wave at the lens, clearly having the time of your life.]

▷ [mattheo and theodore, now covered in hexes, sitting in defeat outside the common room.]

“this is your fault,” theodore says, pointing an accusing finger directly at mattheo’s forehead, as if the source of all his frustration was written in plain sight. mattheo blinked slowly, looks completely unfazed and murmurs, “i think i have tentacles.”

▷ [FINAL CUT: camera pans to show mattheo absolutely does have tentacles sprouting from his arms.]

OMFGGG??!

Theodore and Mattheo are Idiots and Blaise is an enabler 100%

(No but like this was an actual fucking masterpiece babe you’re a GENIUS, ilysm💕💕)

Asian!reader in Hogwarts (headcanons)

pt.1 - food shenanigans

this is mostly written for the jokes lol

_____________________________________________

. . .

• One week.

• It took one week for the Great Hall menu to grow unbearable for you after days of eating boiled vegetables and bland casseroles.

• And by the gods were you tired of it. You don't know how people can eat this for 7 years straight. And it gets even worse because Hogwarts doesn't have rice. No rice??? That's one way to give you a heart attack.

• It was at that moment when you decided to take matters into your own hands.

• So yeah, hence why you currently have a rice cooker in front of you on the table. Courtesy of your parents sending you one after hearing they didn't have rice over there (?!)

• Anyway, back to the present, where a few students are now eyeing you curiously.

• "What is this?"

- "That," you say, pointing at the perfectly ordinary looking device, "...is a rice cooker."

- Still met with confusion, you add, “You put rice in it. Press a button. Boom. Rice.”

• By this point, half the table is staring at you like you just told them Dumbledore did a cartwheel in the courtyard.

• “And why, do you need a... machine to do that-?”

- “Do you need a wand to do magic? No? Then don't question my rice cooker.”

• Flashforward the rice cooker is now declared a sacred artifact. Hogwarts finally has rice. The world is at peace.

.

.

.

• Well... that is until you decided to spice up the Hogwarts menu itself this time. Literally. Because this bland food has 'no soul'.

• According to who? You. • Seriously, you'd think the British would've at least taken a cooking book when they colonized the world, but no-!

• You took your emergency stash of peppers and herbs and snuck into the kitchen.

• Too bad the house-elves caught you just as you were about to drop a peppercorn into one of their pots.

• “Miss, what’s this?” one of them asked, sniffing the spicy broth.

- “Freedom.” (leaves dramatically)

• And since they didn't have time left to remake the food, they decided to serve it anyway and hope no one dies of food poisoning.

• Let's just say that they ran out of servings at record speed.

• Oh, and you now have several elves begging you to teach them the art of seasoning.

.

• So naturally by now, you're (kind of) well-known for your food shenanigans. Many of the house-elves and students are practically worshipping you ever since you introduced them to a plethora of new snacks.

• But of course there’s still a small group of skeptical people.

• A certain blonde from Slytherin named Draco Malfoy initially accused you of trying to poison him with your spices, but you could've sworn you saw him sneaking in a spring roll once.

• You also may have asked a house-elf to put wasabi in his mashed potatoes that evening, saying it would 'enhance the flavour'.

#revenge

.

Now, if you're in Gryffindor, you will dare your fellow housemates to eat some of your spiciest food.

#spicyfoodchallenge@gryffindor

• Dean Thomas for example once tried your chili-covered dried mango and immediately turned red. You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

• Everyone cheered as he downed 3 goblets of pumpkin juice.

• And Thomas called you insane. (you were casually eating one of the snacks as if it wasn't the spiciest thing he's ever eaten right in front of him)

• You also may have sent Ron to the Hospital Wing once for feeding him spicy chili.

• Can no one here handle a little bit of spice?

.

In the meantime, the Hufflepuff now has weekly ramen parties at night.

• That's when you pull out your secret-not-so-secret stash of noodles and broth and prepare them in your cauldron for everyone.

• It's very cozy and calm, y'all just a happy bunch of Hufflepuffs enjoying some good ol' ramen.

• Professor Sprout pretends not to notice because she’s secretly a fan of your shrimp tempura ramen.

• You're thinking of introducing them to hotpot.

.

As for Ravenclaw, you introduced them to 'matcha mochi', because the green tea flavor is ideal for staying awake. You know they're night owls.

• They love you for that.

• It's a godsend during midterms.

.

Half of Slytherin probably owes you favors by now. And that's because you started a 'black market snack trade' where you trade various snacks for favors.

- "You help me with my Herbology homework, and I’ll give you a batch of my family’s special sweet soy sauce.”

• "Deal."

- “If you get the secret potion recipe from Snape’s personal notes, I’ll give you a month’s worth of homemade dumplings.” ...

.

You may have abused used this method several times to sweet-talk your way out of detention.

• “I’ll give you some of my homemade miso soup if you let me off with just a warning, Professor.”

• And surprisingly they agree too??? Most of the time. Snape still resists, but you could've sworn you saw him contemplating for a split second when you mentioned mochi.

• Isn't this bribery?

• You also accept gossip as payment btw 👍👍

.

• I honestly don't know where you get all of that food from. Must be the Asian power.

.

• By your fifth year, Asian cuisine pretty much became a standard during meals.

• So obviously, the first thing Umbridge does when she gets the authority is banning any 'non-tradidional' foods at Hogwarts, claiming it's to 'preserve the purity of the British cuisine', and because the spices and techniques are 'too disruptive' for a safe learning environment.

• You think she just can't handle anything spicier than salt.

• Hence why you teamed up with Fred and George to develop a secret line of 'banned snacks', like dumplings that explode into fireworks to get back at her.

• And it wouldn't be Fred and George if they didn't make anything funny like fortune cookies that make fun of Umbridge and her decrees.

• Which is, unsurprisingly, their most popular one.

• When you were eventually caught and interrogated by Umbridge, you just shrugged. “Asian cuisine has been perfected over centuries. You can’t just erase it with a decree, Professor. That’s like trying to ban magic itself!"

You're really passionate about your food, huh.

I actually love this😭

Tipsy

Pairing: Hufflepuff! Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Synopsis: You find Mattheo passed outoutside of his common room after curfew.

CW: fluff, drunk Mattheo, mentions of partying, mentions of hooking up, alcohol, female reader.

Author's note: This is my first ever post, so please be kind!! But also, feedback is appreciated, just don't be mean please hahah!!

I startle awake, ignoring the ache of my cheek from pressing it against my potions book as I hastily look at the thin, golden watch on my arm. 10:07. I had to put away the borrowed books and return to my dorm before Mr Filch and Mrs Norris realised I was in the library after curfew. Merlin, this is what I get for studying after I only slept for two hours the night before. In my defense, my two drunk roommates kept me up all night.

After considering just going back to sleep and getting detention in the morning, I drowsily stack all the books together and leave them in the return bin. I’m pretty sure that I accidentally left my favourite quill in one of the books, but having to go through all of them again honestly sounds more tiresome than running laps around the school, so I figure I could probably borrow one from Hannah - she always has spares!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

On the way back to my dorm, the sound of loud music slightly wakes me up, and I remember the big party that the Slytherin house is hosting. Lorenzo had invited me, but he has also been very clear about what actually happens at those parties in the past and just the thought makes me shiver.

My heart drops when I notice a figure sitting down outside of their common room, and figuring it has to be Mr Filch, I attempt to do some type of ninja-spy-jump to avoid him seeing me. It was probably never that good of a plan in the first place, but the fact that I don’t stick the landing doesn’t make it any better. I slip on my way down, falling onto my back. I attempt to suppress groaning from the pain to not wake him up, but it seems like the fall was loud enough because he quickly stirs awake.

To my relief, the boy staring back at me definitely isn’t Mr Filch. Like, definitely isn’t. I’m not even sure how I managed to believe that.

“Mm… [name]?” The boy stirs, eyes squinted as he looks at me. I push myself onto my feet, caressing my sore back. My face heats up immediately as I realise who I’ve just embarrassed myself in front of, and I’m sure he can see how red I am even in the dark. I'm surprised he recognised me so quickly, but I suppose that isn't that odd considering how long we've known each other.

“Sorry, Mattheo… gosh, I didn’t mean to wake up!” I attempt to read his expression, but it’s hard to see anything with the shadows cast over him. Not many people know this, but his dad is actually he-who-must-not-be-named. Which I only know since my father is his most loyal follower. “I’m really sorry, I uh… I thought you were Mr Filch.” I explain, waving my hands around erratically as I step closer to him. If Mattheo got upset with me (and he gets upset quite easily) I could get in huge trouble with my family, so I pray to Merlin he’s too drunk to care.

He sighs but shakes his head. “S’alright… but you seriously thought I was Mr Filch? Do we look alike or what?” He chuckles now, making me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I furrow my eyebrows, realising he was sleeping... right outside his common room? Outside of his own party? “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, sliding against the wall to sit down next to him. He reeks of alcohol, but considering my roommates, it’s nothing I’m not used to.

He groans, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Enz kicked me out… and’m not feeling too good.”

“He kicked you out? Isn’t it your party?” He clutches his stomach, and it looks like he’s about to throw up, but he inhales sharply and relaxes again. “Do you need some water? I have a bottle in my bag, wait.” I mumble, scrambling through my leather bag. Oh look, there’s my quill! I pull out a light pink tumbler, gently pushing it into his arms. He looks at it, then at me, before smirking.

“Is this just an excuse to get us to kiss?” He slurs his words slightly, but it’s still clear what he says. ”Not that I have anything against it.” My cheeks immediately go red from the way he tilts his head and nudges at my shoulder with a grin.

“Alright, you’re really drunk.” I chuckle, looking away from him. “Try to drink; it’ll get you to sober up.” He nods, opening it with a *click* and bringing it towards his lips. He gulps, and some water spills out and runs down his sharp jaw, down to his neck. After drinking what looks like the whole bottle, he places it between his legs and wipes his swollen lips with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, and this time it looks like he’s blushing. He’s clearly still intoxicated, though, so it isn’t odd. “I uh… I beat up some guy. I don’t even remember why. I think he looked at me weird? Anyway, Enzo didn’t want me to scare away the ladies so he told me I could go sober up out here.” He explains, leaning his head back towards the wall. My eyes are still focused on the water droplet hanging onto his jawline that he didn’t manage to wipe away.

“Oh,” I reply, finally looking away from him. It wasn’t unusual for Mattheo to get irritated and it definitely wasn’t unusual for him to get in fights, but beating someone up because they looked at you weird is a bit too much. I mean, of course, you shouldn’t beat anyone up, but you get my point! “Well, when are you going to be let back in? Do you know it’s past curfew?”

He looks down at me with a mocking grin, raising his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Well, why are you out so late then, miss goody two-shoes?”

“I fell asleep in the library,” I shrug. “Are you going to have to sleep here the whole night?” I ask carefully, my heart aching a bit from how in pain he looks.

He nods. “I think his plan was for me to get caught by Mr Filch. He’s evil, man.”

“Don’t say that, Lo’s my friend! I’m sure he just… was worried about you.” Mattheo looks at me with disbelief before shaking his head.

“Maybe,” He mumbles, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. “But I sure could use a bucket right now.” He slurs, once again clutching his stomach.

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask. All I really wanted was just to go to sleep. But I couldn’t just leave him here, right? I mean, I’ve never been drunk myself, but I’m sure having Mr Filch shout at you while having a hangover isn’t nice. “Do you uhm… do you… want to come back to my dorm?” I suggest, giving him a small smile. Plus, I guess, some part of me wouldn't mind hanging out with him again. And with 'some part', I really mean my whole heart. I really miss spending time with him.

He laughs slightly, looking at me with droopy eyes. “Are you flirting with me, miss goody two-shoes?”

This time, I can tell he notices my blushing because his eyes fixate on my cheeks with a smile. “What? No! No, no. That wasn’t what I meant, I promise! I just… you know, I was trying to be..” I trail off, fiddling with my nails. “…nice,” I look up at him, and he looks back at me, nodding slowly. He leans towards me slightly, and I notice a bruise on his right eyebrow. I also notice how his eyes dart down to my lips as he licks his. He leans in a bit more, and I back away with wide eyes. “You know, if you needed to sober up is all I meant. And I have a bucket!” I smile as he snaps back into reality.

“Oh, right. Well, could you carry me there? M’so tired.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, of course, easy peasy!” I laugh, standing up to give him a hand.

He takes it, pulling himself up. His weight makes me stumble away. “I could probably carry you. You’re so much smaller than me.” He smiles sleazily, and I cringe at his suggestion. I'm sure he's just thinking aloud, though. Plus, he isn't even really that tall.

“Maybe. Let’s just get going, okay?”

He nods, and I can’t help but laugh at how he stumbles forward, eyes focused on his feet. It looks like he’s balancing on a tightrope!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

I open my dorm door gently, knowing it usually creaks. I’m not afraid of waking up my roommates, both of them are at the party we just left, but I am afraid of Hannah hearing. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and her dorm is right next to ours. We aren’t really known for sneaking people into our dorms, especially Slytherin people, and she would probably give me detention just for 'tarnishing the Hufflepuff reputation. '

“Right, come on in,” I whisper, holding the door open for him. He steps in carefully, immediately sitting down on my roommate, Charlotte’s bed. “You can lie down over here, come on,” I help pull him up and guide him over to my bed. “Do you want me to get a bucket? I don’t want you throwing up on the carpet.” He nods with a groan. I quickly pick up my steel bin, pulling off the plastic bag and giving it to him.

“[Name],” He sighs, looking at me with disbelief. “This has holes in it, it would… leak.” He pushes the mesh bin back into my arms, and I put it back, grabbing the actual bucket lying under Rachel’s bed. She used it to water her biggest plants, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

“Right, I’m so sorry! Here you go.” I sit down on the bed next to him. He immediately brings it up to his face, vomiting into it as I rub circles on his back. Rachel always says it helps her. He places it down, careful to not knock it over.

“Are you okay? Do you want some macarons?” I ask, but it’s more of a rhetorical question because before he can answer, I stand up to grab the box of macarons I had intended to give to the first years. But I could always bake more! I place the box in his lap with a tired smile. “Eating makes the alcohol go away quicker, I think.”

“Merlin, my head hurts.” He groans, opening the box.

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for drinking.” I shrug, and he rolls his eyes with a grin as he picks up one of the macarons. I look at him patiently as he chews. Smiling with anticipation for what he was going to say about them. The best thing about baking was hearing people's opinions. As long as it was praise, of course. I would cry if anyone told me my baking was bad.

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Did you like them?” I beam, shaking my leg.

He laughs, placing a hand on my leg to stop it from shaking. I go red from his touch, but he only grins wider at the sight. “I really liked them.” He hums, moving his hand from my leg to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

I swear to Merlin, I could die right now. He seriously looks like an angel. His messed up, curly hair is suddenly lying perfectly, and the blueish light creeping out from the top of my window is cast on him like a halo. His slightly teary eyes from the alcohol make it look like they’re shining, and I doubt anyone has ever been this handsome. His hand lingers on my cheek before he pulls away. “Thanks.” I mumble with a small smile.

“Where are your roommates anyway?” His words are being more coherent, and he’s almost not slurring at all anymore.

“They’re at the party. I doubt they’ll be back until tomorrow, they’re both terrified of Mrs Norris,” I laugh, thinking back at the time Charlotte had screamed when she saw a Maine Coon strolling around the halls when I was helping her sneak out. Turns out it was just a Ravenclaw’s lost cat. “So you can rest if you’d like. I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her bed.” I yawn as he quickly grabs for the bucket again to spew into. It’s hard to find someone attractive when they’re puking their guts out every other minute, but oddly enough, I do.

He places it down again before glancing at me. I wonder for a moment if he's waiting for me to stand up so that he could lie down with how intent his gaze is. But then he smiles, his gaze still unwavered. "You look really pretty."

"I do?" I ask carefully. He moves closer until our legs touch. He leans down until he can make eye contact without looking down. On second thought, maybe he is quite tall.

"Mhm." His eyes dart down to my lips again, but this time, my eyes do the same. He grabs at my waist, pulling me towards him even more, and I let him.

It feels like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Like, seriously, is it supposed to beat this fast? "Thank you." I breathe, and we're silent for a moment, only leaving space for my thumping heart, which I'm sure he's close enough to hear, too.

He then swallows, biting his lip. "I want to kiss you." His voice his hoarse as his hand cups my cheek. I didn't hear him correctly; I couldn't have.

"Sorry?"

He pulls me in by my face as an answer, gently pressing his lips to mine. The hand on my waist slides to my back, pushing me even closer to him. He smiles into the kiss when I grab onto his shoulders, pushing myself farther up. He tastes like alcohol mixed with the sweetness of my macaron, and with the way he nibbles on my top lip, it feels like he wants to eat me, too. He pulls away, and it takes a moment before he opens his eyes. But the way he looks at me after, it makes me feel like the kiss traveled all the way from my lips to my stomach and sprouted into butterflies. The hand on my cheek moves down to my waist, and he pushes me towards him until I'm sitting in his lap.

I flinch when he releases his hold on me, instead using his hands to pull his shirt over his head. I quickly shift away from him to stand up. He furrows his eyebrows, but I just move away from him even more when he reaches out his arms towards me. "I... need to put on pyjamas." I manage to muster before scurrying into the loo.

I actually just kissed Mattheo Riddle. And I liked it. And I think he wanted to hook up with me. Goodness, this is a lot. Not in a million years could I have anticipated that my first kiss was going to be with Voldemort's son- or, he-who-must-not-be-named, I'm sorry, I'm nervous. I mean, of course, I've thought about it and dreamt about it a few times, but it was more of a fantasy than anything else. He did want to hook up, right? He didn't just take off his shirt because he got hot? Oh no, maybe he did. And if so, I was totally super weird for no reason.

I exhale, slipping into silk pyjamas before remembering how tired I am. All I have to do is go to bed. I don't even have to say anything to him! Or maybe that's ignoring him. Should I be mad that he assumed I wanted to sleep with him? But again, what if he didn't assume that? Our dorm does get pretty warm. And then I'd be mad for nothing. No, this is something newly-slept me will have to deal with.

I'm relieved when I exit the bathroom to find him sleeping. His shirt is still off, but he's lying on his stomach. I fall onto Charlotte's bed, not even having time to dwell before I fall asleep.

The next morning, Mattheo is gone, and in his place is a passed-out Charlotte who still has her makeup on.

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

"I'm serious, Rachel. McGonagall has already removed two house points for your endeavours in the past. How many more is it going to take for you to realise this isn't okay?" Hannah whines, and I do my best to suppress my laughter at Rachel's attempt at feigning innocence.

Rachel groans, crossing her arms like a toddler. "What? This is totally unfair. I swear I didn't go to that party last night! Please, don't give me detention!"

"I'm really sorry! But I have to! If you and Charlotte keep doing this, everyone's going to think Hufflepuff's party a lot, and then McGonagall will take away all of our points, and we'll never win the house cup!"

Rachel rolls her eyes but gives in. "Fine. I'm sorry, Hannah," She mutters. Hannah nods and walks away. "I can't believe this. Like, I'm sorry for trying to have some fun! Is that against the rules?" She whispers to me.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think you deserve detention, but you don't ever think you might do it too much?" I ask, as gently as possible. Rachel has one of the shortest tempers ever, but honestly, I am a bit worried for her. It's probably been a week since I last saw her in bed in time, and she's always so tired in school.

For some reason, she doesn't argue- instead, her eyes go wide, and it looks like she's nodding to something. I furrow my eyebrows, turning around. To my surprise, it's Mattheo. He's rubbing his neck with one hand, and the other is tucked behind his back. His cheeks are red, and his tie isn't tied properly, but what I notice most is how he seems to be looking everywhere but me.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks quietly.

I turn around to Rachel, who's shaking her head profusely. "Uh, no. What's wrong?"

"Right then, could I... talk to you?" I nod slowly, and he grabs my arm and pulls me away from Rachel. He swallows harshly before bringing forward the arm he had tucked behind his back. He's holding my pink tumbler! I must've left it outside his common room yesterday. "I found this. It's yours, right?"

I smile brightly, taking it from him. Our fingers touch when I do, and the redness on his cheeks grows. "Yeah! Thank you, gosh, I didn't realise I had left it." I beam, placing it on the bench behind me. He has something else to say, though. And it's one hundred percent about the kiss. I hadn't told my friends yet, but it's the only thing that's been circling through my mind the whole day. How gently he had held me, how he looked in the moonlight. It honestly felt surreal, like it was all just a dream. But then I remember how awkwardly I had run away from him when he took off his shirt, and I'm reminded of how real it was.

"Look, about yesterday. I'm really sorry I... It was so stupid of me." He groans, rubbing his face with his hand. I nod, but it feels like my heart has stopped beating. Of course, he thinks it was a mistake. He was drunk, and we haven't talked to each other in like a year. It was a mistake. But then, why did it feel so right?

"It's fine." Is all I respond with. Of course, I wanted to say more. I wanted to say that I want to kiss him again and that it wasn't stupid at all and that I've had a crush on him since we were kids. Ever since the dance we shared during the pureblood ball a few years ago, where we laughed all evening. And most especially ever since that time he comforted me, crying, after my father told me what the death eaters really did.

He nods, and it looks like he's about to walk away, but he turns around again and finally looks me in the eyes. "No, it's not fine. I was a total jerk to you. I just... I'm not used to girls being that nice to me unless they want to sleep with me. I mean, I know that you don't sleep around. I was just really drunk, and I really liked kissing you, so, you know. Or, ugh, I sound like a dick." He runs a hand through his hair.

I smile. "You liked kissing me?" I raise my eyebrows teasingly, trying to get him to lighten up.

"Well, yeah. I've wanted to..." He cuts himself off and clears his throat before continuing. "Look, I don't want you to think that I think of you as just another girl to hook up with. Because I really don't. I mean, yeah, I was drunk yesterday, but... I've always thought that you are... really beautiful," He mumbles, looking down at his feet. "Even when we were kids I..." He swallows. "I really like you. But I wasn't supposed to kiss you yesterday it... It wasn't supposed to have happened like that..."

I can't believe what he just said. A part of me is telling myself that I'm making this up or that I'm misunderstanding him completely. I feel like my legs are crumbling underneath me, just from how he's looking at me. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's running towards him, and I don't blame it. I step closer to him, just because it feels right. "How was it supposed to have happened?"

He thinks for a moment. "Up on the astronomy tower. The same time of day, but I wasn't supposed to be drunk. Or in a field during sunset. Or, honestly, anything but what actually happened." He laughs slightly.

Not only does he think I'm beautiful, but he's also thought about kissing me before? I would pinch myself but it seems like my hands are stuck in place, and the only way they can move is towards him. They land on his chest, and I push myself up on my tiptoes. "How about this, then?" I whisper before pressing my lips onto his. He freezes for a moment, but then he grabs the back of my head and presses me into him even more.

He pulls away for a moment, looking at me. "Yeah, this is better." He mumbles, kissing me again.

You did so good!!💕💕