lodisama

[lodisama]

BIBLICALLY

—ACCURATE SLYTHERIN BOYS IMAGINES

—slytherin boys x gn!reader

mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy, blaise zabini

them getting jealous but cant(?) do anythig abt it

LORENZO BERKSHIRE—

"Could you possibly do anything other than read, Y/n?"

He groans in exasperation, leaning his arm and forehead on the bookshelf, looking down on me. I don't bother to look up as I smile with anticipation. I know this boy enough to know what he wants.

"Oh, please, Lorenzo. If whining is your invitation to bother me with nonsense, I'll be your guest." I look up at him now, grinning as so he was. He grabs the chair close to me, pulling it to him, sitting down closer than it was already placed. "I've missed you, Y/n." He hugs me to the side, his head leaning onto mine. Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't like that. Because, Merlin—

"Very flattering coming from you, mate. I missed you, too." I cut my thoughts off, purposely adding the unusual name to shrug it off. To which I see his face notice. Enticingly enough, I regret it for a second.

"Right... Very well, then." He frowns, but continues "We must go back to the common room before curfew, Y/n!" Returning that giddy tone and pulls my arm, in hopes of tearing me from the book. "Alright, alright! Give me a moment." I finally give in, stifling a small laugh. I watch as he grabs most of my things, as I only got to grab the book I held in hand. An unconscious smile emits from me. We both hastily walk through each isle of books, but in no rush of anything. I quickly follow next to him. And he swore that made the air clearer and sliced the thick suffocating one. A solstice to life he thinks.

You smile in comfort at the presence of him. He'd been your friend when you had both been paired by Professor Sprout, 'a perfect match for each of your clever brains' she complimented. He then looks down at you, to which you captured— doing the same.

"Do you think a quick meal at the Black Lake would be a lovely idea?" he spoke abruptly. "Oh? For whom?" I tilt my head, surprised by the suggestion, though this wasn't uncommon for him. He was always one to invite spontaneous fun for our group. "Well, I was— h-hoping we'd all have a calm hangout away from all the alcohol, y'know?" I hum at his thoughtful idea, almost dismissing the fact that he was searching words through his thoughts.

We take a turn from a hall, with all the other students now. Following to enter Professor Mcgonagall's.

———————

The next day follows on, a long awaited weekend as one can say. So, here we find the group of men all huddled in Mattheo's room. An odd forum this early in the morning, especially with the occasion.

"You are beyond stupid, Lorenzo." Mattheo huffs out his cigarette. The said man plops down his bed, sighing hopelessly. "That I already know.." he focuses his gaze on the ceiling, hoping it'd give him some kind of answer. Lorenzo was whipped. "Well, there's no taking it back, yes? Best we could do is help this fool." Theodore pipes in, chuckling to himself and at his friend. The poor boy stumbled through his words; and seemingly invited his friends to a picnic instead of just the girl he had been hesitating to ask.

"We should hurry to hogsmeade before it strikes lunch. Let’s buy food or something— I— anything for it. And tell the others too." Lorenzo finally jolts up, holding his forehead in between his fingers. They all laugh at his state but nod in agreement. Draco, who was laughing— was the first to get up, putting his wand inside his pockets. "Anything for you, mate." He sardonically says, earning a nudge from Theodore.

Just as they go down the stairs, Pansy, Blaise, and Y/n had just entered the common room. "Oh, perfect.." Lorenzo says with a shaking breath. They all smile in anticipation.

"Oh, there you all are. What seems to be the agenda here?" Y/n greets, pointing at the herd of men towards them. Lorenzo's eyes were clinged to Y/n's, but then interrupted by Mattheo's rough elbow. Stopping him in his trance "Oh— fuck, mate. You've got to sto—" a puzzled look from Y/n in anticipation of his answer. "Merlin. We're off to hogsmeade for our picnic this lunch." He clears his throat. To this, Blaise and Pansy coo in amusement, earning confused looks from the men. Here comes my que then. I sigh, somewhat annoyed and anxious. Annoyed, because I had to tell him and face my disappointment. Anxious, due to the fact that I'm too scared to hear what he'd say— Blimey, it's stupid that I care about what he thinks.

“Adrian’s asked me out for a morning stroll at hogsmeade..” I clear my throat as my words falter.

He draws a breath, as if taken aback at my words. Everyone around us pining anticipation, smiling as if I had said something out of the blue. I tilt and knick my eyebrows in confusion, “Have I said something wrong? You lot seem to be speaking with your eyes.” I observe.

Blaise by my side clears his throat and chuckles, as everyone else stands awkwardly. “Well. Erm— enjoy the… date?” Theodore smirks knowingly; unsure of the situation. I blush at his words— it isn’t a date, is it? “Fucking weird, you lot. I’ll catch up with you two soon, I’m sure we won’t be long.” I cut the silence, wanting no more than to get out off this stand-off in the middle of the common room. Everyone bids me goodbye, except for Enzo. I pout yet didn’t pay any more attention.

———————

“I mean— seriously, who does he think he is? We’re not in the eighteen hundreds anymore. I-I could’ve volunteered as a chaperone if that was his idea of a date.” Lorenzo banters as he picks up two of the same bundles of strawberries. “You’re just mad someone else had the balls before you did.” Theodore snickers as he follows closely behind him. pointing at the left bundle of strawberries Lorenzo had raised up. “Piss off.” He replied quietly this time.

They all collectively went to the counter in unison to pay. Lorenzo now going quiet as racing thoughts went through his head. Roughly taking his wallet from the inside of his coat, then tossing ten galleons. Jaw clenching, eyes batting slowly, and his eyes growing darker.

When finally done with paying, he was first to leave the store, paper bag roughly tucked between is palm and his anger. Draco by his side angrily unwrapping an English cheese stick, ‘til he finally does and slowly lifts his unoccupied hand to feed himself. The paper bag on his right arm nearly falling on Enzo, to which he catches, earning an unusual yet nothing unexpected of a sour tone from Enzo. “Fuck’s sake, Draco. Just give me the damn bag—“ he pulls the paper bag from the blond, earning a nasty face from Draco, but then he shrugs.

“Enz!” I gasp as I spot these familiar faces, yet again arguing out of nonsense. I excuse myself from Adrian Pucey who was looking at the latest broom design for Quidditch before running to them. My first instinct was to hug Lorenzo, dismissing the fact that he has paper bags occupying his hands, and yet his hand that was heavily handful went to the small of my back. This didn’t for unnoticed from me. Especially that I was wearing a thin fabric of my long dress to pair with the nearing heat. “Y/n..” He whispers as if it’s a secret only for me to hear. I pulled away to tend to his struggles. “Always the favorite, eh?” Mattheo jests from behind. I laugh at this and bid the rest of them.

“Come, Adrian!” I invite him to come.

“Ahh. The man of courage, Pucey.” Mattheo comes front, trying to intimidate but there stays the sarcasm in his voice. What is he implying to?Lorenzo clenched his jaw more than it ever had, that it started to hurt his head, knuckles white from his tight grasp. Everyone showing amusement and talking to Pucey, yet Lorenzo stayed stoic still. Benefit of the doubt, he must be not in the mood. I ignore the deeper thought in my head to not raise confusions to myself.

“Times up, Chaser. We have a picnic to prepare, if you don’t mind.” He finally spoke. I blink profusely at how bleak it sounded. “Oh, yeah— right. See you ‘round Quidditch practice, Pucey.” Theo feigns a farewell and the others too, whilst laughing might I add. I ignore it as I come in for a hug “I had fun Puce’. See you around.” I smile.

A sigh withdraws from Lorenzo from behind me and I turn around. He shoves the heavy paper bag to Draco’s chest who was done chewing on something as I noticed earlier.

It was nearly lunch, which was just in time. I pace myself with Lorenzo— and there I was blushing again. But feeling somewhat guilty that I went on with Pucey’s invitation. Well, to be fair it was sudden— and I hadn’t known they’d plan on go—

“How was Pucey?” His quiet sternly confused voice emits from my thoughts. I blink, but quickly thought of an answer. “It was alright, I think. He payed for my waffles..” I say with a nervous chuckle, to which he bluntly hums.

I could buy you a whole restaurant for you if you wanted.

His eyes grow darker as he clicks his tongue. But he quickly let go of this trance, looking down at my height, scanning my figure. He holds me by my back once more to get a better look. “You look amazing with the dress, love.” He genuinely smiles. probably the brightest I’ve seen his face since this morning. I give a twirl and a smile, feeling as though that brought my confidence up more.

“It wasn’t worn for you, mate.” Blaise chimes in, laughing.

“You’re not cute, Blaise.” Lorenzo faces him with the same bleak tone. “Allow it!” Blaise’s thick English tone mocks him, and I can’t help but laugh as well. “The weather’s getting hotter, Merlin forbid a woman wants to get comfy.” I prompt.

I turn back to him, noticing his hand snaking its way to my back once more.

——————

Bird’s chirping, along with the lake’s water harmoniously flowing through the sunny day at the Black Lake. Everything was all set, and I was more than ready to dive into the meals in front of me. We sat comfortably on the picnic mat. They maybe pure alcoholics and repulsive smokers— these men. But I’m glad we could all get along with things like these. I sat next to Pansy, Enzo to my left.

“Try this strawberry with the whipped cream, love.” Lorenzo catches my attention— I open my mouth as he takes the strawberry coated cream to my mouth. Closing my eyes; I moan at the perfect balance of the light sweetness and sourness of the strawberry. “Fuck, that’s good.” I peel them open, and the brunette seemed to lock his eyes at my lips with ajar lips. Shock displaying on his face. And everyone went silent as well.

He licks his lips, hazed at either the sound that you made— or how delicious your lips look coated in whipped cream.

If only he could lick them off your fu—

“Enz? You still with us?” Draco sheepishly interrupts Enzo’s obvious gaze. To which the poor boy shook his head to. “Shove off.” He replies, earning a laugh from everyone else, but the oblivious girl.

He then lifts his thumb up along my lips, earning a flinch from me. His rough finger pad softly grazes my lips— making direct eye contact with my fluttering eyes. He takes his now whipped cream covered fingers to his own, licking the cream clean. He chuckles lightly at my perplexed face.

“Eat up, love.” Pointy finger swiftly finds itself on your chin, tapping it. Oh, now I’m smiling.

Placing a kiss on my cheek, then whispers; “Wouldn’t want Pucey to taste what’s sweet and mine. Hmm?” He murmurs quietly like it was a sin to be said aloud.

Merlin—

———————

LMAOOO FINALLY FINISHED TS😭😭 i hope this doesnt flop

[lodisama]

Hello! My favorite song at the moment is bed chem sabrina carpenter

event; profile; nav;

4.6k words. longer than i expected. istg i should call these long-ass fics instead of mini-fics.

hi anon! thank you so much for requesting!! so since this song came from a summer album, it gave me summer vibes... as in, a summer romance vibe. and who better to fill in the role than our favorite, italian reverie? presenting.... none other than theo nott!

warnings: google translated italian, fluff, angst, use of y/n.

song: bed chem, sabrina carpenter slytherin boy: theo nott

Italy in the summer was nothing short of magical. Ever since childhood, you had dreamt of wandering its sun-drenched streets, breathing in the scent of fresh espresso and warm pastries, getting lost in the hum of its language. Finally, after years of waiting—graduation behind you, a job secured—you seized the moment. Three months of careful planning had led to this: a solo summer in your dream country.

From the instant you arrived, Italy wove its spell around you. The rich culture, the lyrical cadence of the language, the way history seemed to press against the very walls of the cities—it all made your heart swell. Rome for the first week, Venice for the second, Verona for the third, before returning home to England. A carefully mapped-out itinerary, structured yet bursting with anticipation. And yet, only two days in, the thought of leaving already felt unbearable.

Your schedule was packed, each day a whirlwind of exploration. Today, you were on a mission—to find the restaurant your coworker had raved about. But somehow, amidst the maze-like streets, you lost your way. A wrong turn led you somewhere unexpected—quieter, tucked away from the usual tourist bustle. The air here felt different, carrying the aroma of fresh bread and roasted coffee.

That was when you saw it.

A small, unassuming café nestled into the corner of a street you hadn’t intended to walk down. At first, you nearly passed it by, lost in thought, until your hip accidentally brushed against a potted plant perched on an outdoor table. As you bent down to set it upright, your gaze traveled to the building—soft yellow paint, ivy cascading like a green waterfall over the doorway, curling around the windows as if cradling the café in a warm embrace.

Through the glass, maritozzo sat temptingly on display, golden and pillowy, just waiting to be devoured. Your stomach made the decision for you—you stepped inside without another thought.

The café had a charm that was impossible to ignore. Dim lighting, shelves stacked with books worn from time, the quiet murmur of conversation blending into the clinking of porcelain. You spotted the perfect table by the window and moved toward it, but something stopped you. A pull, inexplicable yet undeniable, tugging you gently in another direction.

You turned.

There he was.

A classic Italian gentleman, effortlessly poised, his fingers curled around a porcelain mug. Dark curls framed his chiseled features, his presence magnetic, as if he had been waiting for someone—perhaps, for you.

He sat there with an effortless grace, the kind that spoke of quiet confidence rather than arrogance. His strong jawline framed a face that seemed sculpted by the hands of an artist—sharp cheekbones softened only by the warm olive tone of his skin. His deep brown eyes, rich like freshly brewed espresso, carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. They held stories, secrets, a depth that hinted at a life well-lived, or perhaps, one waiting to begin.

The soft curls of his dark hair, slightly tousled yet undeniably charming, brushed against his forehead, the kind you could easily imagine running your fingers through absentmindedly. His neatly pressed shirt, a shade of crisp white that contrasted beautifully against his sun-kissed skin, was unbuttoned just enough at the collar to suggest a sense of ease. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing toned muscles beneath, a glimpse of strength tempered by elegance.

As he lifted his coffee to his lips, the movement was deliberate, languid, as if savoring not just the drink but the moment itself. His fingers—long, graceful—curled around the porcelain mug, and you couldn't help but wonder how they might feel tracing against yours.

There was something about him—an air of mystery, a quiet magnetism—that pulled you in. A presence that demanded attention without asking for it. And in that instant, as the world outside continued to bustle on, he was the only thing that mattered.

His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching, electric—a mesmerizing shade of aquamarine that seemed almost unreal, like the sunlit waters of the Amalfi Coast. They held something—an unspoken challenge, curiosity, or perhaps recognition. A glint of amusement flickered beneath the depths, but there was something else too, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if, in that single moment, he had unraveled you entirely—seen you in a way no one else had.

The way they caught the light, reflecting hints of seafoam and cerulean, made them impossibly captivating, as if they carried fragments of Italy itself. And just like that, without a single word, you knew—this summer, your summer, had shifted in a way you never anticipated.

Just like that, your summer had changed.

It didn't take long before you were at his apartment, tangled up in his sheets, bodies pressed close, the world outside forgotten, him feeding you strawberries with your head on his chest.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into quiet contentment. He reached for a strawberry, holding it delicately between his fingers before pressing it gently to your lips. The sweetness burst against your tongue, mingling with the lingering taste of his kiss, and somehow, it all felt so natural.

It was intimate in a way you had never experienced before. Here you were, in the arms of a total stranger, yet somehow, you felt safer than you ever had in a long time. It had barely been two hours since you met, and he already knew so much—the tender details of your childhood, the wistful echoes of your first love.

You exhaled, staring at the soft rays of the golden setting sun filtering through the window. Was it him, or was it simply Italy itself—the spell this country seemed to weave around everything and everyone? Were all Italian men this effortlessly charming, this easy to talk to, to surrender yourself to?

"Come mai la tua bella testolina è così silenziosa, hmm?" he murmured, large hands sliding down your hair and brushing it away from your face.

You giggled, reaching for another strawberry and placing it between his lips. "I already told you I don't understand a word of Italian..."

"I've heard I'm a very good teacher," he replied with that confident, lazy smirk of his. "I could show you Italy better than any..." he paused, furrowing his brows slightly to think of the word. "guida turistica..."

Once again, you giggled softly, the moment he pressed his lips to your fingers to lick up whatever was left of the strawberry his mouth had just stolen from you. "tour guide?" you asked, trying to provide him with the correct word.

"Si. Tour guide. I can be yours, if you like..." He punctuated his suggestion with a series of open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbones.

And just like that, all plans of going to Verona and Venice were out the window, and you rescheduled your return trip to a whole month later than your original return date.

His name was Theodore Nott, but you called him Teddy for short.

He had somehow managed you to move into his penthouse, where you spent every morning waking up in his bed, and the scent of freshly brewed espresso all over the penthouse.

Every morning, without fail, he insisted on spoiling you. Before the sun had fully risen over the terracotta rooftops, before the city outside had begun to stir, he was already at work in the kitchen, crafting something new—something special—for you.

The aroma would reach you first, warm and inviting, coaxing you from sleep before his voice did. And then, there he was, standing at the edge of the bed, tray in hand, a knowing smile playing at his lips. He never let you lift a finger.

It was never the same meal twice. One morning, perfectly flaky cornetti dusted with powdered sugar, paired with rich, velvety cappuccino. The next, eggs cooked just right, fresh tomatoes bursting with flavor, crusty bread straight from the bakery down the street. Then, perhaps, a delicate frittata, infused with fragrant herbs, the kind only someone born into the heart of Italian cooking could master.

He knew what he was doing. Better than half the chefs you had encountered. Every bite was a revelation, every flavor precise yet effortless, as if he were drawing from an endless well of knowledge passed down through generations.

And there, in the quiet glow of morning light, the two of you would share more than just the meal. Between sips of coffee and bites of something impossibly delicious, the conversations flowed—deep, unfiltered, woven with laughter and confessions.

It was indulgent, intimate in a way that felt rare, precious. You had never been cared for like this before, never been seen in such a quiet, effortless way.

And each morning, as he looked at you over the rim of his cup, you wondered how you could possibly go back to a life without this. Without him.

But both of you knew that this golden relationship you had wasn't meant to last. It would be over once the summer came to an end. It was nothing but a summer romance, no matter how real it felt.

Yet, despite knowing, neither of you spoke of it. The truth lingered between kisses, between laughter that melted into quiet sighs, between mornings wrapped in sheets that smelled of sun and him. It was there—in the way his touch lingered a moment too long, as if memorizing the feel of you. In the way you watched him, tracing every detail, as if trying to capture something fleeting, something slipping through your fingers.

It wasn’t just a romance. It felt bigger than that. Real, golden, drenched in the warmth of a summer that would soon end. But endings had a way of creeping in, of pressing against even the sweetest moments. The whispered promise of farewell was in every embrace, every shared meal, every sunset you watched together with unsaid words weighing in the silence.

And yet, despite it all, neither of you pulled away. Because for now—just for now—it was enough. It had to be.

He was true to his word. He showed you Italy better than any tour guide would. All the intimate places he spent his time at, all the tourist spots... everything.

And he did it with a kind of quiet pride, as if sharing these places with you meant something—meant more than just sightseeing. He led you through the winding alleys of Rome, past the bustling piazzas and into corners untouched by the hurried footsteps of tourists. The hidden cafés where the locals greeted him by name, the bookstore tucked away in a side street where he had spent lazy afternoons, the unmarked trattoria where the food was better than anything you’d find on a guide’s list.

But he didn’t ignore the classics. He took you to the Colosseum when the sun was soft, when the crowds hadn’t fully formed, so you could stand there in the open space and feel the weight of history pressing against your skin. He pointed out the details in Michelangelo’s work, things that even the guides didn’t mention. He let you linger at the Trevi Fountain, grinning when you tossed a coin in and made a wish, teasing you about what it might be.

"What did you wish for, cara?"

"Would you like to know?" you replied with an air of mystery and a suggestive raise of your eyebrow.

Venice came next, the city that felt suspended between reality and dream. He showed you how the water reflected the light just right in the early evening, how the gondoliers sang not for show, but because music was woven into the city’s bones.

And in Verona, he traced his fingers along the worn letters left at Juliet’s wall, smiling as you read them, as you let yourself believe—for just a moment—that love like that could live beyond legend.

He gave you Italy. Not the packaged version, not the curated one. He gave you the one he loved, the one that had shaped him, the one that mattered.

And in doing so, it became yours too.

He showed you Italy, and you showed him your soul.

He had given you Italy—the real Italy, the one written in hidden alleyways and the scent of fresh espresso, in the history etched into crumbling stone and the rhythm of a language that felt like poetry.

And in return, without meaning to, without even realizing it at first, you had given him pieces of yourself. The quiet corners of your heart, the stories tucked away for only the most deserving ears. The fears, the dreams, the moments that had shaped you. He saw them all—held them gently, as if they were something precious.

And somehow, he remembered all of it.

The way your fingers moved when tying your laces—quick, practiced, a subconscious rhythm you never thought twice about. The way you stirred your coffee absentmindedly, always three times, never more, never less. How your nose scrunched up ever so slightly before a sip, testing the temperature without thinking.

Then, of course, there was the pineapple on pizza—your unforgivable offense. He had gasped dramatically when you first admitted it, clutching his heart as if wounded by the mere thought.

"Mio Dio!" he had gasped, when he had first seen you put pineapple slices on your slice of the pizza he had spent four hours making for you at home, from scratch. "Stai rovinando tutto! This is a betrayal..." he declared, eyes alight with playful scandal, yet he still took your hand that evening, still kissed you like you belonged to every part of Italy.

And perhaps that was what struck you most—how easily he collected these pieces of you, storing them as if they were something worth keeping, worth cherishing.

It was fleeting, ephemeral, destined to fade when summer did.

But for now, he knew you, and you knew him.

It was unexpected—the way he let you in, the way he unraveled parts of himself that felt sacred, deeply personal.

He showed you the school where he had spent his earliest years, where he had first learned to chase dreams too big for a boy his age. He traced his fingers along the worn stone walls, the graffiti scrawled by restless students, and laughed as he recounted the trouble he used to get into, the teachers who never quite knew what to do with him.

Then, there was his childhood home—a modest place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, walls filled with echoes of the past. He told you about summers spent on that tiny balcony, about the way his father used to hum old songs while cooking dinner, about the arguments, the celebrations, the life that had unfolded within those walls.

But it was when he brought you to her grave that everything shifted. His mother—the woman who had shaped him, guided him, loved him deeply, and left too soon. He didn’t speak much at first, just stood there, quiet, thoughtful, fingers brushing the cool stone. Then, slowly, he told you about her—the warmth of her presence, the lessons she had given him, the ache of losing her.

And in between, you lived with him—fully, unapologetically, as if time had no claim on the moments you shared.

You laughed until your stomach ached, until your cheeks hurt from smiling, until your laughter tangled with his and filled the spaces between you like music. You cried in ways you hadn’t before—not from sorrow, but from honesty, from the weight of stories told that had never been voiced so openly.

Together, you existed in a space untouched by reality, wrapped in something golden and fleeting. Neither of you spoke of the end, but it lingered, always, just beneath the surface.

Yet, somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.

And you loved him.

You loved him like you had never loved anyone else in your entire life. And he knew it.

Tangled up in the sheets after yet another round of him completely rocking your world, your head was resting on his chest when you tilted your head to look into his eyes and whisper the two little words that you had learnt on Google just for him.

"Ti amo..."

His grin stretched wide, unmistakable, almost wicked in its delight—the kind that sent a thrill down your spine, that made you wonder what thoughts ran through his mind in that exact moment. It was the kind of smile that could pull you in effortlessly, like a secret he was daring you to uncover, like he had already won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

The corners of his mouth curled with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with mischief, amusement flickering beneath the striking aquamarine depths. He leaned forward slightly, as if savoring the way the words hung in the air between you, his fingers tracing absent patterns against the table, his body relaxed, utterly at ease.

Without hesitating, he said it back, "anch'io ti amo, tesoro."

But all good things eventually come to an end, and within the blink of an eye, your summer had come to a close.

You had gotten to know his soul in depth— every inch of him, every quirk, every flutter, every mark on his body. It was a lifetime of love experienced in one single summer.

A love that burned brightly, condensed into fleeting moments, yet carrying the weight of something much greater.

You knew him. Not just his laughter or his charm, but the quiet pauses between his sentences, the way his fingers twitched when he was deep in thought, the crease in his brow that only appeared when he spoke of things that truly mattered. You memorized the rhythm of his breathing, the softness of his voice just before sleep, the way his presence wrapped around you like warmth you never wanted to let go of.

Every mark on his body told a story, every scar a memory, every glance a secret shared only between the two of you. And in the golden stretch of those summer days, you traced them all, learning him in ways that felt impossibly permanent.

A lifetime of love, packed into stolen kisses beneath a foreign sky, into whispered conversations at dawn, into the soft pull of fingertips against skin.

And yet, when the season came to its inevitable close, when the sun dipped lower, signaling the end, you both knew—this was exactly how it was meant to be.

No regrets. No bitterness. Just a summer that would live in your bones forever.

And when the time came, when the final days of summer settled upon you both like the last golden rays of the evening sun, there was no bitterness. No desperate clinging, no sorrowful goodbyes laced with regret.

You had known him completely—every detail, every quirk, every unspoken thought behind those aquamarine eyes. And he had known you just the same. There was nothing left unexplored, no corner of his world, or yours, left untouched.

Yet, this was how it had always meant to end. Not in heartbreak, but in understanding. A gentle farewell, filled with gratitude for what it had been, rather than grief for what it could not be.

Right person. Wrong time. Right place.

You stopped at the café where it all began one more time before he dropped you off at the airport.

It had been almost two months ago that you met him here, but now?

It felt like a lifetime ago.

And so, beneath the amber glow of the setting sun, with Italy wrapping itself around you like a final embrace, you made a promise.

Not one bound by desperation or longing, but by understanding. By the quiet certainty that, though your story was meant to end now, perhaps—just perhaps—it wasn’t meant to end forever.

"If you’re still single," you murmured, fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup, voice steady but soft, "meet me here. Ten years from now. Same place, same table."

He studied you for a long moment, aquamarine eyes deep with something unreadable—something like hope, something like fate. Then, slowly, he smiled. A real one. A promise sealed with nothing but the weight of the unspoken.

"Ten years," he whispered softly, but you knew him well enough to know what he was saying. "If you find yourself lost, or lonely," he continued softly, looking at you longingly, like he wanted to tell you to stay, but he knew he would be asking too much. "Will you come find me?"

He looked like he was losing a part of himself that he had never realized was missing until he met you.

Your lips curved into a watery smile. "Of course I will..." you replied, your fingers gently brushing his jaw, the way you had done countless of times. "I'll always find you, Teddy..."

And just like that, leaving him was easier, leaving Italy was easier, carrying the summer in your bones, the memory of him pressed into every part of you.

Maybe you’d return. Maybe he would. Maybe, just maybe, the right person at the wrong time would, one day, become the right person at the right time.

He was your soulmate. You never believed in them before, but you certainly believed in them now.

With your pact in mind, of a futuristic promise, you had finally agreed to part ways.

And just like that, it was over.

No tears, no grand gestures—just a quiet understanding, a moment suspended in time, wrapped in the golden haze of a summer that had changed you both.

He had dropped you to the airport, and your heart felt heavy and full as you parted ways.

One last goodbye kiss.

One last fleeting touch.

One last look of his beautiful aquamarine eyes meeting yours.

And then, you turned your back on him and began to walk away.

"Wait," he had called right before you fell out of earshot.

You turned, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from making this farewell harder for you than it was supposed to be.

A moment of silence.

And then he spoke.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he murmured.

"Goodbye Teddy."

It was only when you had turned around fully and passed through the security gates that you allowed the tears to finally spill.

But you held hope in your heart.

You walked away, carrying the weight of what had been, the tenderness of shared mornings, the electricity of stolen glances, the laughter, the knowing, the love—brief but undeniable.

Yet there was no sadness in the goodbye. Because, in the heart of Rome, beneath the watchful gaze of history itself, you had made a promise.

Ten years. Same place. Same table.

And whether fate would honor such a pact, whether time would lead you back to him, was a mystery left to the future.

But for now, you carried him with you, and he carried you with him.

And maybe—just maybe—Italy would call you home once more.

Ten years passed faster than you anticipated. The years slipped through your fingers like sand, faster than you ever imagined.

Lovers came, and lovers went. Life unfolded—new places, new faces, fleeting romances that never quite ignited the way that summer had.

Theo was embedded into your soul. He was there in every, single thing you did. Your summer in Italy was no longer a distant memory, but a whole different lifetime, one that was etched so fiercely into your soul that it was a part of you. You lived, you loved, you lost, and yet, through it all, Theo remained.

Not in a way that haunted you, not in a way that stopped you from moving forward. No, he was simply there—woven into the fabric of your existence, stitched into the smallest, quietest moments.

It was in the smallest things—the subconscious gestures, the habits formed over a lifetime. In the way you lingered at cafés with ivy-clad doors, in the way you stirred your coffee three times, in the soft ache that settled in your chest when the golden glow of evening light reminded you of the way his skin had looked beneath the setting Italian sun.

Your summer with him wasn’t just a memory—it was a lifetime, a part of you, embedded so deeply that no amount of time could erase it. It had shaped you, changed you, taught you things no other experience ever could.

Because that summer lived within you, etched into your very being, woven into the quiet moments of your day.

It was there in the way your lips curled into a soft, private smile whenever a passing scent reminded you of fresh espresso in a hidden café. In the way your fingers brushed against ivy-covered doors, lingering as if searching for something lost. In the way your heart skipped—just barely—when the evening light mirrored the golden glow of those long-forgotten afternoons.

It wasn’t just a memorable summer vacation. It was a presence, a whisper of something untouchable yet undeniably real.

And whether the promise would be fulfilled or left behind in the folds of time, one truth remained—Italy had never truly let you go.

And neither had he.

And now, here you were. Ten years later.

Standing in front of the café where it had all begun.

Heart pounding. Breath shallow.

Wondering if fate still had a place for the two of you.

The café still looks the same. The ivy overgrown a little more, the paint a little more faded and worn and the steps that lead to the café a lot more rough and round-edged.

You stepped inside, your breath shaky as you tuck your handbag underneath your arm, tilting your head back to shake the hair all away from your face.

Your heart in thumping, your fingers are sweaty as you look around once, a quick scan of your eyes across the room.

And everything stops.

Your breath catches.

Just like that, time collapses.

Ten years, a lifetime’s worth of moments, all fading into insignificance the instant your gaze locks onto his.

He’s there. Exactly where he said he would be.

The same table, the same quiet confidence, the same presence that had once unraveled you completely. But different too—aged by experience, refined by the years that shaped him in your absence.

It's his eyes that give it away— that he's the same person as he was a lifetime ago, the same person you fell so hard for.

His eyes—impossibly vivid, the color of sunlit tides and forgotten dreams—burn into yours, a tether pulling you back, back to a time when love was effortless and fleeting, yet somehow eternal.

Yet, as his aquamarine eyes meet yours, as recognition flashes across his face, as his lips part ever so slightly in stunned disbelief—none of that matters.

"Teddy," you whisper breathlessly, your eyes meeting his, the rest of the occupants of the café fading into a blur— nothing else matters as much as him.

It takes two strides for him to reach you.

"Y/N," he pulls you into his arms, and your lips crash against his, tears spilling down your cheeks as you hear the golden sound of his voice calling out your name.

And you're finally home.

Because this was never truly a goodbye.

And somehow, somehow, it feels like the beginning all over again.

event; profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[lodisama]

BIBLICALLY

—ACCURATE SLYTHERIN BOYS IMAGINES

—slytherin boys x gn!reader

mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy, blaise zabini

reacting to you confess to them (as best friends)

MATTHEO RIDDLE—

How must I start this off? It's been leeching through my skin for so long, and I hadn't expect myself to have the urge to give in to— Gods. I'm an utter mess.

I wipe the bullet sweat trickling down my forehead. Truly manic, this is. Who would have thought another Slytherin girl confessing her fondness to Matt would throw me off? Merlin— I didn't even care to divulge these concealed feelings I've had for him ever since— What?– second year?.

When he had told me about it, a sudden wave of inevident possession came over me. I was mad. Absolutely in anguish that someone had done it before me. Though, it's not like I was planning on. But, still! I have been overly dramatic all week, and it's making me lose my dignity. I refuse to tell anyone about this, not even Pansy.

Fuck it— I throw my hands to my face, turning to my side. Trying my best to let sleep get to me. And it did.

The next morning went on smoothly, I guess so. I still felt that weight on me that didn't even need to be there. Breakfast at the Great Hall was as it usually is. Lorenzo by my left, and Pansy on the other. As the others were across us. Each one of us chatting and laughing, how it always is. I felt a pair of eyes on me to my side every now and then, I later realize that it was the girl whom confessed to Matt. I think nothing of it and carry on with eating. "Yo, I'm off to DADA. You lot know I'm starting off fresh this year." Blaise says as he places down the cup he had downed down. Lorenzo tilts his head up at this, raising his brow "I second, are we allowed to sit together, mate?" the brown haired giddy tone replies.

"Ahh.. Not sure, mate. Let's just head on and find out, yeah?" Blaise's thick accent was quick to respond.

We all decided to head on quickly behind them. The group always complied to school, though it didn't seem like it. I walked at the very back, syncing footsteps with Theo. A small conversation emits along with jokes. I always liked talking to Theo. His half-ass wit was truly a charm. Theo's words were cut off quickly. A familiar blond headed girl, ever so familiar. I give Theo a wide eye smile, hinting something. I'm not even sure if he catch on it. His words falter as the blond girl speaks. "H—Hey! I'm really sorry if I interrupted something–"

"No! It's alright. Barkney, right?" A small sardonic tone from my words laced. And I saw Theo's smirk upon noticing this.

"Yes! Uhm— I was wondering if you could tell me about Riddle's whereabouts this weekend.. If you don't mind?" Her sincerity of words made me want to bash my head onto the wall. She was too sweet. I could see Theo patiently waiting for us. "Oh, about that, we're actually planning on staying on one of our dorms as a group." I sucked in air "Don't worry. I'll talk to Mattheo about this," I return her high sugarly sweet tone. We bid her goodbye and hurried to class.

"What was that facade all about, now, Y/n?" Theo finally starts, as you both take a seat on the paired chairs. "Be vast, Theo." I plainly say. "I don't recall this 'dorm party' we've organized. Do you mind enlightening me?" A knowing yet sarcastic tone of genuine perplexity spoke the green eyed boy. He tilts his head to you, a grim line of his lips appeared. "You're over exaggerating, who'd even want to handle that?" I shrug.

"To be fair, the girl seemed a corps perdu. The tension between you two was deeper than that, it seems," He urged, continuing this sarcastic confusion. "It's nothing." I reply immediately, receiving a hum from him in return.

————————

The gloomy atmosphere of the Common room took me in. Rusted smell of wood along with the tint of peppermint and evergreen seeped through the whole room. It was curfew, and everyone had piled up in the chairs. It was a Friday night after all.

I sat next to Theodore whilst Mattheo was next to him, the three of us were talking as the others did as well. We had the Common room to ourselves anyway. "Have you lot ever thought of an orgy between Harry and his friends? Do you guys think they've done it?" Lorenzo suddenly starts off, catching all of our attention. Seriously? Gossiping was totally something the boy was infused of. "Ew, mate. Disgusting that head of yours." Draco replies to this. "That red headed boy's probably an incel if you thought of it. I pity Granger for it." Mattheo chimes in, taking a drag of his cigarette. We all laugh at this

Through my peripheral vision, I saw a girl go down the stairs. I pray to the Gods it's not who I think it is. Her steps grew louder to thumps as she nears us, I sigh. "Hey.. Can I borrow Riddle from you guys a bit, if you guys don't mind." Yup. She chuckles nervously, and I swear it always emits this boiling pot in me. They all coo, knowing who she was, the "brave sheep" they call her. 'Cause she had unduly courage to approach Mattheo. I gag to myself at the thought.

Why am I even being like this? The boy isn't even mine and yet here I am possessing over an emancipated boy. "No–Yeah, it's fine. Is there something wrong?" He stood uo with complete urgency. I was quick to react to this, leaning against my chair as I click my tongue. I take in a deep breath, concealing myself from exposing these. The others hadn't catch onto this, but Theo. Gods— "Can we go somewhere a little private— the stairs is fine." She suggested in a hurry-like nervous tone.

"Ease the water, Y/n. Have a hit, might help you, cara/caro." He offers his cigarette, with yet again that sarcasm in his tone. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, comforting me. I take the stick from him, placing it between my lips. I eye both of them like an eager snipe as they go onto the stairs. Pansy teases Mattheo as they fled off. My gaze settles on them, as I see their mouths moving into the conversation. Theo falters to me and chuckles at my actions. He leans onto my ear; "Easy, cara/caro. He won't budge." he whispers so carefully, it sounded like swoop of air due to my heavy focus.

Brows furrowing, I see Mattheo put both of his hands inside his pockets, shaking his head with his eased back shoulders. Merlin. I watch them over Theo's shoulders, resting my chin on them as I do so. Mattheo lightly shakes his head in a manner of disagreeing? or discarding in some form. I squint my eyes at this, seeing that Jane Barkney's face falls along with her spirit. What could he have said? As if on command, he awkwardly nodded and bowed his body a little, feigning goodbye.

————————

"A total bum off. I heard she cried to her mates." Lorenzo cocks his heads at each of us whilst pointing his demitasse spoon. Quickly going back to scooping a chunk of his yogurt. They all laugh at this, making me peer my head up, clearly in my own loony space. Almost as if on purpose, Draco nudges my side with his elbow, nodding me off to pay attention. "Well, I-it's better than turning it off in an impolite way, right?" I make fit of myself in the conversation, stammering as I find my way through them. They all nod.

The day quickly led on at the astronomy tower. With Lorenzo, Mattheo smoking by one of each pillars and I; relying my weight on a railing.

"It's meant to be on the other side, dimwit!" Lorenzo whisper-shouts, "Well, you go on then. You open it!" Mattheo urges the demanding boy as they argue, almost incoherently due to the cigar stick stuck in between both of the side of their lips. I hear fiddling and agitating noises of the box. I rose up in a huff, immediately facing Lorenzo; whom took my act to surprise. I roughly take ahold of the box of Drooble's Chewing Gum, ripping off the half-cut guideline roughly but graciously so. The boys nod as if caught in an interrogation "We're both wrong apparently,". The brunette boy takes off the stick on his lips and pushes the lit tip onto the pole, dying down the fire, and Mattheo does the same. I stare with a blank expression, plainly displaying the fact that I'm used to it. "Give me that, Y/n. You boast." Mattheo takes the box from me, slyly as he jests.

"I— will head back and read before I slumber." Lorenzo takes three pieces of gum, mimicking a sleeping pose afterwards before plodding off down the stairs. We both bid him farewell and a goodnight.

The boy was now left with me now. I sigh wide eyed as i turn back around; now facing the open space of the tower with no railings. I've never been this nervous nor tense alone with him ever since what happened.

"Open," I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I briskly turn around. A certain blue gum held in between his thumb and pointy. Merlin

Hesitating, I open my mouth, to which he pushes the candy in my mouth. His finger ghosting over my lips. I blink harmoniously with my heart beat. The sweet tangy taste of the gum engulfs my mouth, and the taste was exciting to my palate. I doe my eyes to his eye level, his eyes already waiting to dig up mine. I gasp as his warm hands do the same; engulfing my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. His hand slithers to my lower back, inching no space for the both of us.

"Don't think I'll heed your piercing eyes?" He starts.

My breath shakes, betraying me. I wriggle off his touch, as his fingers were still on my lips, the pointy now on my chin. "Don't know what you mean, Matt."

I mentally scold myself. Why are my words not aligned with what I want to show? "Don't be mental," I add to discard further suspicion.

As soon as I slip off his hold, he pushes me further, and there goes his fingers on my chin once more. "I see the way you look at me— the way you seem to detonate at the mention and merely even at the sight of Barkney." He lifts my chin closer to his face now. Shit, shit, fuck.

I chew on the gum nervously. Coursing through the words I could possibly blurt out. Think, Y/n, think!

"Tell me, would you?" He dips his face lower than ever— this arse. His nose filling up the side of mine. Like a well made mold of pottery molten to one another. The curly brunette's voice came to me as a lullaby, almost falling into his arms as they come off ever so smoothly. He rubs his thumb over the circle of my chin, then mimicking a ticking clock sound. I feel tense at this— "Just say the words, Y/l/n." The ushered tone sounded more of a plea than a demand, but I knew it was both. I blink once more, noticing his furrowed brows. I ape this expression, wetting my lips— eager but somewhat hesitating to spout them.

Now or never is what they say, isn't it?

I open my mouth, but closing it as I couldn't find my own voice. Gods I feel like a caged owl desperate for freedom. I sigh, taking my last blink; "I do, I—like you— and don't you let that get to you—"

His lips... his lips dove to mine.

My eyes widen into the kiss, as the hand on my chin, now cupping one side of my cheek. His grip hardens, eager but soft. I melt onto his lips; the familiar feeling of a candle wax sticking to flesh. His hand on my lower back tightens, and I sigh. My hands grasp on his blazer, holding for support. And before we pull apart, his tongue searches for the gum in my mouth, transferring onto his very own. I whine almost greedily immediately as his warmth leaves my lips.

"Ease up, sweetheart. I don't budge." He kisses my cheek whilst smiling.

Oh, that arsehole.

oh my god?? this actually took me two days to make bc my attention span was NOT it,, and yes this will be a series(that i can hopefully finish)😭

[lodisama]

finished watching wednesday and dear lord-

EXCUSE ME?!???

HE’S LITERALLY SO FINE LIKE- GAWDAMN.

watch me write a whole fanfic for him just because I can 😍😍🤭

[lodisama]

i have three reqs in my draft, and this school weeks gonna have a bunch of shit,, guve me a week and ill be finishing them😭😭

[lodisama]

General Relationship Hcs

Rowan Laslow x Fem! Reader

This is my first time writting something like this and publishing it on the internet, just so you know.

The layout might be a bit weird for people who read this on their phone since I'm posting this from my laptop.

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Rowan has been named the outcast of Nevermore Academy even tho it was already a school for outcasts

In all honesty he has no idea how he got so lucky with you

The nerdy weird boy of the school managed to end up with someone as caring as you?

Some couldn’t believe it when the rumors started to spread when you guys got together

You guys usually spend your time together in you’re room since the girl you share the room with isn’t really ever there and Rowans roommate is uh well Xavier Thorpe

He definitely loves to cuddle with you and play with your hair, please return the favor he really likes it

If you guys ever go up against each other during fencing he would definetly go easy on you just so he could see you smiling and being really happy you won

He’s definitely snuck you down into the secret library for the Night Shades

He would absolutely take you on cute picnic dates by the lake/pond or take you to Neathervane for coffee dates

On one of those said dates, he gave you a necklace he thought you’d like

Speaking of jewelry if you’re someone that wears quite a bit all the time you’d best bet he’s given you so much jewelry, some even matching to his own

There’s a few pet names he’d call you to, darling, love, my love

He will kiss the tip of your nose or your cheek sometimes when your out together either not in your room and around the academy or while you visit Jericho together

He would definitely kiss you on the lips in private tho

You’ve definitely snuck Rowan into your room at night if he’s ever had an argument with Xavier

He’s usually holding your hand if not his arm is around your waist

Rowan really loves you because you’re one of the only people who talks to him and accept him for him

[lodisama]

AEROKINESIS (x.t)

jealous, frustrated xavier x f!reader

summary: reader is in weathervane, and comes across tyler and they have a conversation. making xavier jealous of how close you two are, it ends to something you never expected tw: tyl*r g*lpin

I breathe heavily, out of breath from my bike ride. I wasn’t in a hurry or anything. I just wanted to get to Weathervane before it rains. And it was starting to get gloomy. I don’t mind the rain, in fact I love it.

I practically escaped as soon as Nevermore’s school hours were done— And I might’ve left my friend alone, confused as to where I am now.

I park my bike next to the cafe’s glass window, making sure it doesn’t fall. I make my way to the glass door, the cold air hitting me. Immediately greeted by the usual barista, Tyler. “Good afternoo… Oh a Nevermore. Hi,” His voice falters when he lifts his face to see me. I don’t respond, given his reaction, instead i just went to a seat, at the very back, next to the window. I was the only one anyway.

I place a book on my table, clearly about to read it. I open it to the page I’m currently on. And that’s all I did, for the next five minutes, I consumed my brain with a book. Till I heard footsteps coming my way, I didn’t turn to it, I just waited for what he would say. “Is that Silvia Plath’s book?” The barista starts off.

��It’s clearly on the cover.” I say, obviously uninterested.

He hums, shifting. “Uh.. What can I get for you then?” He holds a pen and a tiny paper. I finally look up at him, seeing his brown curly locks and skinny body. I don’t think much of it. He did sound rude when he saw me come in. “Ice matcha, and a Banoffee pie. Put the pie on take out.” I listed. He nods writing everything down. “Alright, I’ll be with you in a sec.” He walks away to the kitchen door.

A few minutes later he came back with my order, an iced matcha on his hand, and a paper bag on the other. “Here you go, iced matcha, and your Banofee pie.” He smiles, placing the paper bag on my table. “Thank you.” I responded. I took the iced matcha and started mixing it. He just stayed there silently, looking like he wanted to say something to me. “I’m sorry for, uh—Sounding rude earlier, when you came in.” He points his thumb at the entrance door, stuttering through his words. I smile, finding it funny that he thinks it was a big deal. "Calm down, it's not a big deal." "Oh." Silence once again.

I love silences, if it were bad situations that is. Silence in conversations make me utterly uncomfortable. "Mind if i sit? My shift ends in 5 minutes." I stiffen at his debrief. I gulp, and nod. He smiles at this and he unties his apron. I gaze his actions, feeling somewhat uneasy and awkward. He folded it, and placed it on the table, sitting in front of me afterwards. I had both of my hands clasped under the table, waiting for anything to happen. He made himself comfortable, "So what kind of outcast are you?" He starts off again. "A wolf? Vampire, witch, telekinesis? What?" The curly haired, softly laughed. "Aerokinesis." I bluntly said. He stairs in confusion, waiting for me to explain.

"Never heard of that before," No shit. "I can manipulate wind. I can literally take your breath away." I laugh at my own joke. He did the same. It quickly stopped when my phone rang. Shit I whispered. I immediately grabbed my phone from my uniform pocket, the name caller displayed ‘xavier’. I answered immediately, not minding Tylers awkward stare. “Y/n, where the hell are you?” I was greeted by his furious tone. “Hello to you too Xavier,” I bite my lip, hoping he wasn’t mad, though I can already tell the pot’s boiling aggressively. "I've been looking everywhere for you, don't tell me you're by the lake again." The man sighs. " I'm at weathervane," My calm tone reassures him from his accusations of being by the lake. He wasn't really fond of the lake, due to being traumatized by the many unknown failures in the Poe Cup. He dropped the call when I had said where I was, common thing he does for no reason, though I don't find it rude. It was always one of his traits. I set my phone on the table, now looking at Tyler. His perplexed face made it hard for me to compose my laugh, I clear my throat. The rain started pouring loudly, the town looking dull and grey now.

"Want me to drive you to your creepy school? Looks like the rain's really gonna take its time." He bidded, his emerald eyes glistening with hope.

"Hmm.. I'd rather get wet in the rain, rather than be with a normie. Sorry." I shrugged, truly not sorry. This made him emmitt a chuckle. "Seriously? It's not like I'm the one whose a threat to people with her bizarre "super power". " He joked, causing me to smile. I shake my head "Good one, but I'm powerful as I am." I take a sip of my iced matcha, I accidentally turned my eyes at Tyler, for a good long while. He shakes his head, smiling like an idiot. "You weren't wrong when you said you take peoples breath away. No pun intended."

I huff out a laugh, not entertaining his statement. “I’ve heard that one too often” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. “Hey, there’s a dance this weakened, do you maybe wanna—“ “She has a date.” I turn my head to Xavier’s tall figure. “Xavier,” I stood up, looking at his figure from head to toe. “You’re soaking wet.” His hair drenched, clothes all drowning in water. “Oh… Uh, my apologies, didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Friend.” I corrected.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go, Y/n.” His voice in a low and serious tone. I mumble a quiet Okay in embarrassment, knowing Tyler was watching all of this happen. I grab my things, including the paper bag with the Banofee pie inside. It was for him.

I take a hold of his hands, letting him drag me wherever he wants. He dragged me outside the cafe, with Tyler all alone to fend off his thoughts. He lead me to my bike, which was next to his, and I didn’t even notice it, or his presence. The rain just kept getting louder, the bike was no use.

Xavier was silent the whole time, though his demeanor was loud enough to speak for him. He noticed I was miserably staring at my bike, not sure what to do since the rain really did everything it could to prevent me from using it.

“Leave it. We can go grab it tomorrow.” He softly said, but his tone was rather harsh. I hummed, non-verbally saying okay. He takes my hand, pulling me close to his body. My face becomes hard like stone, unable to move. My face turning crimson red.

“ ‘Friend’, really?” He practically shouts over the loud noise of the rain.

My head tilts up, perplexed. “What?” I say in the same volume as his words.

“Am I just a friend to you?”

“What do you mean?” His grip on my hand tightens.

A punch of realization hits my senses hard. “I—I’m sorry, I thought—“ I pause each word. What am I supposed to say now? He lowers his head to me. “Have I really not showed you enough? Or do I have to say it to your face?” He whispered. The rain was loud to silence both of our voices, but somehow, I heard him loud and clear.

My eyes flutter, my words tied in a knot. I swallow a limp in my throat. We were inches apart, the hesitation blocking the moment.

His eyes, those eyes— They were on mine, and so are mine. His other hand that wasn’t occupied by our tangled hands, made its way to my cheek. I didn’t even realize that the rain painted itself on my face till he touched them. Caressing it around my cheek to disappear.

Now this type of silence is what I love. Our silence. His lips slowly opened, it closes again. “I… like you, Y/n. You have no idea.” His face softens, as my whole body bursts in the flames. I couldn’t contain my happiness, and I leaned in. Our lips felt like they were made for each other. The warmth of his, and the coldness of mine felt good.

It took him a second to respond, but when he did, another flame was set ablaze. I didn’t think his grip on my hand could get tighter but it did. My free hand held his chest for support as his height was too much for me.

What felt like eternity finally came to an end when he broke the kiss. His warm hand still on my cheek, caressing it once more. “You take my breath away.” When he was the one who says it, it felt right and belonging.

“I like you too Xavier.” I smiled, and so did he.

The hand that was on my cheek, slowly made its way to my hair. He tugs it behind my ear. A kiss on my forehead being the cherry on top.

authors note: this is cringe but i kind of love the idea of tyler just watching this at the window lmao

also 2k on my first post??? thank you so much ohmygod

[lodisama]

RIDICULOUS (x.t)

xavier thorpe x reader (no pronouns mentioned)

summary: reader is wednesday's cousin, or rather, uncle fester's child. you have transferred to nevermore, and on your first week, you meet someone. this turns into forming a secret alliance wednesday can't know.

reader has the same powers as uncle fester (electricity)

Being around people who stare at you like your some animal zoo wasn’t really on my list, especially when they’re the same kind as you. An outcast or, a so called freak. I would’ve enjoyed this more if I did something terrible. But for some reason these people love peculiar blood lines.

I exit the door to the school indoors, and there I enter the quad. Where every student of monsters imaginable hang out. I loathe the gossips, but love the stares. Everyone turned their heads to me, then there was silence. I look around to muster in the atmosphere. It’s not that I think highly of myself. It’s just they make me feel highly than what they are. I felt a dark aura behind me, making its way next to me. I turn to my side, “Wednesday, my beloved cousin.” I turn my head back to the students, smiling, not at them but at her presence.

She has always made me feel wanted and seen, though we had different interests, she never failed to make me feel fit in.

“Y/n, it’s lovely to see you again.” Her hands clinged together, hanging down.

Her voice monotone, though I know her words were sincere. “How is the first week in this hellhole full of surprises?” She asked, sounding almost displeased. I sigh, not upset in any case. “Surprisingly good. Though my roommate appears to be a no-sleep enjoyer.” She hums, raising her eyebrows.

Silence fell after that, but then a familiar platinum blond, with colorful tips comes hopping our way. “Y/n, hope you don’t mind me borrowing Wednesday from you.” She smiles excitedly.

I return her kind smile, “No not at all, you may take her.” I see Wednesday look uncomfortable, but she let it happen. “Thank you!” Edin holds Wednesday by her shoulder, as they walk away to a bench. I walk to a pillar next to a wall art, standing beside the pillar. I felt electricity fuzz on my shoulder, making me flinch. I step back to see who it was

“What the…”— He looks down my size.—“Oh”

I hum, seeing the man. Tall, tall enough to be a tree, hair tied up, miserable eye bags, chiseled face. “No sorry? I apologize, I didn’t see you’s?” He raises his eyebrows, with a confused yet maintained calm tone. “Have you heard me say anything?” I respond, which he raises his eyebrows at this. He licks the inside of his cheek, muttering a silent Alright. He seemed used to it.

He turns around, and continued on painting the wall, the crow impressively detailed. He coated its background with a different shade of blue. I stare, blankly following his every move. “Please stop looking, I can feel your eyes,” The man lets out a breathy chuckle, still focused on the painting. My face hardens by the feeling of getting caught.

“My apologies.” I clutch on the bind of the book I was holding.

I didn’t give him time to say something, not that I was expecting him to. I turned around and went in a different turn of the quad.

Though I didn’t see it, he smiled unevenly when I apologized.

━ ━ ━✦❘༻༺❘✦━ ━ ━

"Do you know where it is?" Wednesday ask in a stern, yet eager voice. "Of course. Dad always told me stories about this school." Her eyes practically glew when I said that. "Will you please show me?" She blurted. "It's in that secret headquarters full of Nightshade wanna be's. " I slowly walk up the stairs, making sure my voice was low. She nods, satisfied with my answer. "I need you and Thing to get it for me. Weems has me on a radar right now." She stops next to the railings, looking at me. "Do you mind?" I smile at her, shaking my head a no "I don't mind , Wednesday". "Thank you." She whispers. As I look around, I saw Xavier looking at the both of us from the other side of the railings. My face turns stoic, as I inhale sharply.

"So I just snap two times?" I asked Wednesday. "Yes, you'll need this." She confirms, handing me a flashlight. Thing crawls on my shoulder, giving me a thumbs up. Got it I responded. I face the statue, snapping two times. The statue slowly moved backwards, revealing a spiral staircase on the right side. I checked to look at my back. Wednesday was already gone. I exhale, walking to the stairs, the dark room full of paintings and the smell of old books greeted me. I point my flashlight to the wall, seeing every painting of whom I assume to be the parents of these students, which I familiarly recognize.

Unfortunately my father, didn’t possess the academic aptitude to be here, but I am grateful to be filled with his knowledge about this school, and letting me experience it at least.

My whole body shivers in joy seeing the Nightshade logo on the floor. Pure ecstasy erupted in me. Finally happy to see one of the best stories my father has ever told me, right in front of me. I keep my pace slow, paranoid by the idea of getting caught, but either way, what bliss. I could feel Thing patiently waiting on my shoulder. Suddenly, I hear something shift behind me. I had the instinct to turn around and flash out electricity on my finger, not yet zapping the said noise. "Woah━ woah." The man raises his arms up in the air, moving backwards. "Xavier?" I say breathly, whilst my eyes wide open. I slowly lower my hand, the electricity disappearing on my finger tips. We both pause. A minute of taking heavy breaths. Now that we're all alone, under this dim light, he looks good. Genuinely good. His hair not tied up in a man bun was a foreign sight to see. He was the first one to break the silence. "What are you doing here?" Brows furrowed, voice shaky. I blink profusely, thinking of an answer. Usually I'm great with lying, even at the most unbelievable situations. But right now, I can't just discard him away or say that I was exploring the school. Fuck.

My mouth opens, then it closes again. "Exploring. I couldn't sleep." I say. I try to ignore his eyes. Clearly doubting my excuse. "How did you get in? Not many people can." He asks. I subtly smile "Do you think of me as stupid?" I muse, tilting my head. He stiffens in his position "No━I just━ Forget it, I'm sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "No worries," I blankly say, hiding my laugh. My eyes look around the room, seeing the painting that hides the treasure Wednesday desires. I make my way to it, not caring that he was still behind me. "What are you looking for?" He follows behind me. "This is none of your business." I hold the side of the painting, opening it like a door. "What the hell.." He says in awe. I hadn't even realize it, but Thing was now nowhere in my sight. "Thing?" I call out for him. "Wait, what? What are really here for, Y/n?" His voice now serious. I inhale deeply in exasperation. Turning around, I fuse electricity on my finger, pointing it at him. "Dare to speak a word of this and I will electrocute you in your bath." I threatened, slowly walk towards him. He looks at the blue fuzzing thing on my finger. "Okay, I won't. What can I do to help?" I sigh in annoyance once again, and I think he got the idea, but still stayed. "I prefer to commit theif crime alone." Thing signed, agreeing with me. "Would you rather me tell on Weems?" It's his turn to threaten me now. Though it didn't do much. "She'll lose one of the most rarest outcast, then." I smugly reply. "Trust me no one here needs you," I could hear his smile through those words. I ignore him, and proceeded to do what I was told to do. "Thing, open the safe please." I ordered Thing, and like that he obliged. "Hey, I don't think we're supposed to open that safe." Xavier peers, concerned of some sort. "Then leave." I bent down to the size of the painting or rather, safe. It opened swiftly, revealing the book I needed. I softly gasp, grabbing the book. Flipping through the pages. The pages contain different kinds of beasts. The man behind me slowly made his way next to me, interested in my discovery. My eyes widen as I saw the beast my cousin has been obsessed with. "That's the thing I keep on dreaming about," His voice low. My brows knit together, turning my head to his face level. "You've seen this before?" I ask in curiosity. He nods, "Yeah. I've been drawing them too, it's been on my mind for so long. It's fucking me up." He covers his mouth, faltering his eyes at mine. There was a pause, but then I turned around to look back at the book. I sharply close it, emitting a sound. I grab my bag, putting the book inside. "Thank you, Thing." I looked at the moving hand. Thing crawls back on my shoulder, making himself comfy. "Y'know, you might get caught, right?" Xavier puts his hands inside his jean pockets. "Yes, and the idea excites me." I reply coldly. Xavier snickers at this. "Let's go before anyone notices we're gone." I said. He nods, letting me walk up the stairs first, his tall figure following me behind. We made it out the underground place, and I immediately turn to a different path, but I was abruptly stopped by a hand holding tightly on my wrist. I look at his hand and up at him. "What?" I ask. "Do you have a phone, or are you just like your cousin?" He chuckles lowly. I straighten my position, raising my eyebrows. 'I prefer to be old schooled." I replied. "Letters?" He breathed. Well he catch on quick. "Yes. Why?" pure confusion runs my head. "Expect letters under your door." He drops my hand, now pointing at me. "I'll be ready with a lighter to burn them." I muse once again. "Is that a yes?" He pushed further on. This boy is ridiculous. I nod slowly, I could see and hear his smile through the darkness. "Goodnight Y/n."

[lodisama]

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐍

♡ my name is afe ! ♡ zodiac sign: ♒︎ ♡ i'm filipino

♡ misfits podcast ♡ harry potter ♡ now you see me ♡ mcu ♡ hotd ♡ fate: winx saga

♡ misfits podcast ↪ goodguyfits (cameron mckay) ↪ zuckles (mason) ↪ swaggersouls (swagger ,, eric)

♡ harry potter ↪ mattheo riddle (fancast) ↪ hermione granger ↪ lorenzo berkshire (fancast) ↪ weasley twins (fred & george) ↪theodore nott (fancast) ↪ blaise zabini ↪ ron weasley ↪ harry potter ♡now you see me ↪ daniel j. atlas ↪ jack wilder ♡mcu ↪ bucky barnes ↪ steve rogers ↪ peter parker ( depends who) ↪ loki ↪ thor ↪ etc,,

♡fate: winx saga ↪ riven ↪ sky ↪ beatrix ↪ bloom ↪ etc,, ♡hotd ↪ daemon targaryen ↪ aemond targaryen

♡ fluff ♡ smut (i have no right to stop you from reading them) ♡ head canons ♡ incestry (for the sake of hotd) ♡ brother+sister ♡ dad+daughter ♡ a to z's ♡ x reader ♡ will write for other pronouns (no neo pronouns lol)

♡ gore (?) ♡ incestry ♡ vulgar words ♡ hard smut & kinks ♡ trauma (self harm, abuse, ed, sa, etc) ♡ i sometimes use the word retard (it's not a slur lol)

[lodisama]

Burning church༄

(Thinking about selling prints)

[lodisama]

charleville castle, 2007

[lodisama]

misty by webeyer

[lodisama]

[lodisama]

Dead

[lodisama]

[lodisama]

he’s so pretty

[lodisama]

Euronymous & Dead (Mayhem)