summary: “You’re sweeter than you think too, Mattheo.”
characters: mattheo riddle x whimsical! reader
warnings: none!
word count: 483
It smelled like cinnamon long before he even reached the end of the corridor.
Mattheo had been trudging toward the library with his usual scowl- tie loose, sleeves rolled up, dark curls falling into his eyes- muttering under his breath about exams and idiotic group projects. He hadn’t expected to find you there first, cross-legged at one of the long oak tables, surrounded by parchment, textbooks, and… a plate of cookies?
You looked up the moment he appeared, eyes bright, a streak of flour dusting your cheek. “You’re late, Professor Riddle.”
He arched a brow. “Professor?”
“Well,” you said, voice lilting with mischief, “you always correct me when I’m wrong, sigh dramatically when I make bad notes, and act like you’re being tortured whenever I smile-so yes, Professor.”
He bit back a smirk, dropping into the chair across from you. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm. You love it.”
He didn’t respond. Because maybe he did.
You pushed the plate toward him. “Snickerdoodles. My mum always made them when we studied together. Cinnamon helps memory, apparently. You need that.”
You nodded, curls bouncing. “Of course. What kind of study session doesn’t have snacks? Don’t worry, I didn’t poison them-though, if you’re mean about my handwriting again, I might next time.”
He stared at you for a second longer than he meant to, then reached for one. The sugar cracked slightly under his fingers, still warm. He took a bite-and something in him stilled.
Sweet, soft, familiar.
You were watching him, chin in your hand, that ever-present gleam in your eye like you were seeing the world through some invisible bit of sunlight no one else could find. “Good?”
He swallowed, nodding once. “Too good.”
You grinned. “Perfect. Fuel for the tortured genius.”
He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer whimsical,” you corrected, flipping through your notes. “It sounds more mysterious.”
“Mysterious isn’t the word I’d use.”
“What word would you use, then?” you asked, scribbling something onto parchment without looking up.
He hesitated, leaning back in his chair, the corners of his mouth tugging faintly. “Sweet.”
You looked up then, surprise flickering across your features before softening into something gentler-quieter. “Well,” you said finally, with a shy little smile, “you’re sweeter than you think too, Mattheo.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached for another cookie, pretending to study while your soft humming filled the air between them. The candlelight flickered over your face-your nose scrunched in concentration, your hair messy from running your hands through it.
And for the first time that week, maybe that month, Mattheo Riddle didn’t feel quite so cold inside.
He glanced at you again-your cinnamon-sugar fingers flipping a page, your content little sigh-and thought, maybe sweetness wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
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Day EIGHT! We've got to one of our starting vampires. It's Owen! I feel again this portrait is very different from the rest, and that's because I feel he wouldn't have ever had a portrait done. The only circumstances would have been with Louis, and well, they definitely aren't around, so lewis is burnt out. I dont know it seemed like a cool idea, so I committed.
If you want to find day nine, best call of action is to stray away from lore.
DAY EIGHT. Of owning a secret furry blog until my friends find me
BIG NEWS. I made a fursona. Meet Gerbert, he’s a fox/dog hybrid and this baby even comes with installed retractable wings
Also rewording my gimmick to a secret furry blog instead of being an undercover furry since I was informed that is in fact an actual thing 😭 APOLOGIES IF I GAVE YOU GUYS THR WRONG IDEA OOPS
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Jason landed on a small floating rock, one that wasn't moving right now, and looked around the green and purple landscape littered with doors.
He reached inside his pouch and ran his fingers over the cold, glowing orb that was the soul of a dead boy.
"Hey, buddy, hangin' in there?" He talked to it, not entirely sure the boy could hear him. "I'll get ya home in no time, don't worry, just…" He looked around again, trying to pinpoint any landmark to help him not get lost in the maze of rocks and doors. "I'll get you home, no matter what."
The dead man, looking as he had when he was a dead boy, closed the pouch again and jumped with determination.
- - -
this is from a fic i wanna write but still don't quite know how
maybe getting lil bits out of my sistem will help me practice its voice :)
