clar2aa

[clar2aa]

everyone needs to read this rn. omg

Love Island

This season of Love Island is set to be full of surprises. With stunning new pairings and explosive confrontations, the villa is sure to be filled with tension and drama. The chemistry between the islanders is electric, leading to passionate moments and unexpected connections. As friendships are tested and alliances shift, no one can predict how things will unfold. Every twist and turn will challenge the contestants, and the pressure will mount as they try to navigate the complicated dynamics. Only time will reveal who will rise to the top and who will find themselves caught in the chaos. Are you ready for it...?

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

content: fluff, angst, smut (a bit of everything lol)

warnings: sexual innuendos, cuss words, 18+ content, smut, drinking, verbal arguments, breakdowns, drama

episodes:

episode 1

episode 2

episode 3

extras:

meet the islanders (girls edition)

meet the islanders (boys edition)

meet the islanders (y/n & rafe edition)

introductions: rafe edition

introductions: y/n edition

𖹭 if you wanna be added on the taglist for this series comment/reblog or click here!! 𖹭

inspo for this series: @finelinevogue @rafecameronssl4t

A/N: this is my favorite thing i have ever created, i am so excited for all of you to see this project. it is something i have dreamed of for so long, that i put off for too long as well and now...it's here!! hope you love these characters and this crazy, very drama filled, steamy love story as much as i do!! love you all<3

[clar2aa]

this is SO cute. omg.

rafe keeps biting his finger… you know it’s a nervous habit. when he’s thinking too hard or anxious about something ward said, he’s biting at the skin of his thumb or his nails.

you’re sure you have a nervous habit too but it’s not one that makes the pads of your fingers rough or your nails jagged. you wonder if it hurts him or if he’s really just numb to it by now. you’re on the couch together, your head in lap when you see him start to get that glaze in his eyes. his hand that’s playing with a strand of your hair is moving towards his face, but you beat him to it. your small finger presses to his lips before his can and he snaps out of whatever train of thought has taken control of him. “‘wanted to see what it felt like…” a smile curls his lips while he nips at the intrusive digit. you giggle at the feeling, his teeth barely graze your skin and you know he’s holding back. you’re about to move your hand away when he grabs ahold of it, pressing a kiss to the finger like he actually hurt you. “you do that when you’re stressed you know.” you murmur as you watch him press kisses to the rest of your fingers and then your wrist.

“maybe i’ll just have to do this instead,” he squeezes your hand in his, there’s no faraway look in his gaze now. the corners of his eyes crinkle from adoration and he’s smiling down at you. clearly your little distraction worked. but you know it’s temporary, you let your interlocked hands rest against your stomach.

“tell me about it?” he nods down at you, his expression slightly dimming before he shares what’s worrying him.

a/n: i think ab that habit of rafe’s constantly it is so captivating, i feel like it’s something drew added himself. i know addicts have repetitive behavior like that but then it continues past s2 too…just me overthinking pry

[clar2aa]

rafe keeps biting his finger… you know it’s a nervous habit. when he’s thinking too hard or anxious about something ward said, he’s biting at the skin of his thumb or his nails.

you’re sure you have a nervous habit too but it’s not one that makes the pads of your fingers rough or your nails jagged. you wonder if it hurts him or if he’s really just numb to it by now. you’re on the couch together, your head in lap when you see him start to get that glaze in his eyes. his hand that’s playing with a strand of your hair is moving towards his face, but you beat him to it. your small finger presses to his lips before his can and he snaps out of whatever train of thought has taken control of him. “‘wanted to see what it felt like…” a smile curls his lips while he nips at the intrusive digit. you giggle at the feeling, his teeth barely graze your skin and you know he’s holding back. you’re about to move your hand away when he grabs ahold of it, pressing a kiss to the finger like he actually hurt you. “you do that when you’re stressed you know.” you murmur as you watch him press kisses to the rest of your fingers and then your wrist.

“maybe i’ll just have to do this instead,” he squeezes your hand in his, there’s no faraway look in his gaze now. the corners of his eyes crinkle from adoration and he’s smiling down at you. clearly your little distraction worked. but you know it’s temporary, you let your interlocked hands rest against your stomach.

“tell me about it?” he nods down at you, his expression slightly dimming before he shares what’s worrying him.

a/n: i think ab that habit of rafe’s constantly it is so captivating, i feel like it’s something drew added himself. i know addicts have repetitive behavior like that but then it continues past s2 too…just me overthinking pry

[clar2aa]

ummm this is the first tate langdon fic ive ever read and omfg this is so good

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

Tate Langdon x f!reader

Summary: “Tate…” you begin, but he already knows. He leans in again, his mouth brushing lightly against yours, like a ghost’s whisper. Like a secret. “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

Warnings: none, i think— it's tate, self explanatory

A/N: He was the reason I watched ahs and I've been thinking about writing about tate for sooooo long, it's kind of embarrassing that I only did it now

The house breathes.

You feel it every night, in the heavy silence that fills every corner of your room. Your room. But not just yours.

It once belonged to Tate.

The thought should bother you, but it doesn’t. On the contrary. The idea of sleeping in the same space that once was his, of occupying the place that once sheltered him, brings you a strange comfort. As if, somehow, you and Tate have always been connected.

“You’re thinking again.”

His voice cuts through the silence of the room. Low, rough, almost amused.

You turn your head, and he’s there—sitting on the edge of the bed, his blond curls falling over his forehead, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. As always, he arrived without a sound, as if he were just another fragment of the house, an extension of the shadows.

��Is it wrong?” you ask, your voice soft.

“Depends,” Tate tilts his head slightly. “Were you thinking about me?”

“Maybe.”

His smile widens a little. The dimples appear, deep, and you feel something tighten in your chest. Tate has this effect on you—a presence that’s cold, yet warm. Terrifying, yet comforting. You’re not quite sure where the fear begins and where the love ends.

He leans in, resting his hand beside your pillow. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you whisper.

“Liar.” Tate’s dark eyes scan your face as if they could see beyond your skin, beyond your bones, straight to everything that drowns you inside. “You have this thing... this sadness stuck in your eyes. I know it well.”

Of course he does.

Tate understands like no one else. He sees what others don’t, feels what others ignore.

“I can’t explain it,” you confess. “I just... feel it.”

He brings his hand to your face, his icy fingers tracing a delicate path across your cheek. You shiver, but you don’t pull away. With Tate, the cold is never enough to push you away.

“I like it when you talk,” he murmurs.

Your heart hammers inside your chest. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” Tate answers without hesitation. The conviction in his voice makes you hold your breath. “And I’m yours. That means I can save you.”

Save.

The word hangs between you, heavy with something you don’t fully understand but that scares you.

“I don’t need to be saved.”

Tate smiles. Slowly. Almost sadly. “Yes, you do.”

The silence stretches between you. Long enough for you to feel the house around you. Its weight, its presence, the whisper of the walls.

Then Tate closes the distance, his lips brushing yours in a light, almost hesitant kiss. You taste him, the scent of the house ingrained in his skin, and you wonder if your love was always destined to be like this: intense, insatiable, desperate.

When he pulls away, Tate holds your face between his hands and looks into your eyes. Enough to make you forget there’s anything else besides him.

“If you die,” he says, so softly it almost doesn’t sound like a threat, “I’ll bring you back.”

The air leaves your lungs.

“Tate…”

He hurries to silence your name on your lips, kissing you slowly, as if he wants to steal your breath for himself. His coldness mixes with the heat pulsing inside you, and the contrast makes you shiver.

“I hate it when you say my name like that,” Tate murmurs, his lips still brushing yours.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re afraid of me.”

You hold his face between your hands. His blond curls fall against your skin as he leans closer, pressing his chest against yours, as if he could absorb your warmth.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lie.

Tate smiles slowly, almost sadly.

“Yes, you are.” He slides his hand to your wrist, his fingers resting over your racing pulse. “I can feel it from here.”

You swallow hard.

“But I like it,” he continues, his dark eyes holding you in place. “It’s beautiful. You’re here with me anyway.”

Yes. You are.

Even knowing the darkness inside him, the emptiness in his eyes, the raw obsession in the way he touches you. You know there’s something wrong with Tate, something twisted. But how do you run away from the one person who truly understands you?

Tate holds you tighter, burying his face in your neck as if he wants to hide inside you. His body weighs on yours, and for a moment, he’s just a boy lying in bed with the girl he loves.

“I need you,” he confesses, his voice muffled against your skin. “More than anything. More than air itself.”

You close your eyes and hold Tate against you.

He may not need air. But you know that, if he could, he’d hold his breath just to taste your last sigh.

He lifts himself slightly to look into your eyes, his fingers still lazily tracing your skin, almost as if he’s studying you, memorizing every detail.

“You could leave,” he murmurs. “You could run away from this house. From this thing between us.”

You don’t look away. “And do you think I want to?”

Tate presses his lips together, thoughtful.

“No,” he admits. “I think you need me as much as I need you.”

The confession hangs between you, the air almost electric. You feel Tate’s gaze burning against your skin. He watches you with that suffocating intensity, as if you’re the only thing keeping him there.

Because maybe you are.

“Tate…” you begin, but he already knows.

He leans in again, his mouth brushing lightly against yours, like a ghost’s whisper. Like a secret.

“Promise you’ll never leave me?”

The request comes out low, urgent, desperate.

You feel his fingers tighten around your wrist, as if the thought of losing you is enough to pull him back into the darkness he never truly left.

“Promise?” he repeats, and there’s something broken in his voice.

You should hesitate.

But you don’t.

“I promise.”

Tate closes his eyes and lets out a trembling sigh, as if that promise is the only thing keeping him whole.

And then he holds you again, his arms wrapped around your body with a desperate need.

You know Tate died a long time ago.

But somehow, he’s never felt more alive.

[clar2aa]

ugh i LOVE

always known | CH.2

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron, mentions of eating issues, anxiety

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

< previous

the next time you run into each other, or really reluctantly meet up, is at the golf range. topper and kelce had conveniently left out the fact that rafe would be joining and you think from the sheepish glances they exchange as you spot the buzzcut they did it on purpose. you know you’re technically the odd one out, but you expected them to figure out that wasn’t a good idea after the last time you saw each other. like the mature 20-year-olds you were, you both ignored one another again. you thanked the sun in your eyes for allowing you a valid reason to not stare at him. rafe similarly thanked the sun for staring at you unabashedly with your back to him. your hair was up in a high ponytail, donned in a familiar light blue skirt and crop top. your legs glistened from sweat and the curve of your ass was barely concealed by how short your skirt was. yeah, suffice to say he was grateful. he caught himself in the thought, finding himself smiling.

“you’re still here huh? tryna prove something to daddy back home?” the voice rang clear in the tension filled silence stretched between you two, you still couldn't get used to the sound. you probably should by now. you know the sweeter lilted version he used to reserve for you would never be back, and while his voice wasn’t this deep before the edge is still there. a knife that keeps digging into you, bleeding you dry, slowly and consistently.

“despite your best efforts, i bought a place, you dick.” rafe hates that you don’t turn towards him when you say it, he hates how far away you sound. the words come out without any vitriol, but he relishes in the childish way you insult him.

“you’re actually staying?” an exhausted sigh leaves your mouth as you finally turn towards him, your brows furrowed, and his gaze traces your features. he could probably draw them with his eyes closed, but then he’d give up a chance to see them himself.

“yeah i always wanted to move back, i didn’t really have a choice before.” there’s that tone again, neutral and unfeeling, he hates it. distantly rafe knows he’s heard it before, you used to talk like this after you got yelled at by your dad or your parents got into a fight that you had to be subjected to. you’re trying to disassociate yourself from your own feelings and rafe knows that this time he’s the one to blame. his stomach turns and his throat suddenly feels dry, he has to make this better for both of you somehow.

“right, well you stay on your side, i’ll stay on mine.” as soon as the words come out rafe knows he’s messed it up further, your face falls slightly before your mask is back.

“really? what are we twelve?” rafe wants to laugh, but he can’t let you have that. the words are out now, he can’t take them back. maybe this is the only way for him to move on. he knows that’s a lie because even your annoyance is a benefaction.

“i was probably nicer at twelve.” there’s no humor in the statement, you feel like crying, there’s a horrible curl in your stomach and your heart is beating out of your chest. rafe is really ending it, you might be sick. you realize you’d rather bleed to death slowly than the knife be pulled out all at once, at least before you could hope for survival. the humid heat of outer banks does nothing to help the cold sweat coating the back of your neck. you feel sick.

“you definitely were, we were friends back then.” the whole conversation is pointless by now, both of you know it, but there’s something invisible holding you in that space, staring at one another with blank expressions and speaking nonsense just to keep talking. you’re tracing each other’s expressions with fervor, both of you know this might be the last time you can do it. it’s painfully familiar, you’re almost hit over the head with how similarly this echoes your childish fights before. you’d always give each other the silent treatment only to give in hours later. that wouldn’t happen this time.

“listen, i don’t know what your problem is with me, rafe, but i'm sorry if i-“a last-ditch attempt from your end. rafe cut you off quickly, ridding you of any hope for reconciliation.

“don’t, it’s fine just-we don’t need to be friends again, and honestly i just want you to stay away from me. if that’s too hard for you then-“

“i can do that.” there it was, the end of it. a lump formed in your throat; you had both long forgotten your game of golf. topper and kelce were returning, wondering what was holding you up. your legs might as well have sunken into the grass with how much effort it took to move. you tore your eyes away from his when you remembered them.

“oh one more thing, i can still hang out with topp and kelce right?” rafe didn’t have to punish you for his own problem. he took one look at his idiot friends and nodded at your question.

“yeah why would i care?” you gathered your golf bag, setting it on one of the golf carts as you avoided his gaze. rafe took you in, for maybe the last time he let himself, and tried to memorize every inch of you. you still had that scar on your knee, he’d cried with you when you got it, his dad had yelled at him to act like a man, he was 10. he should feel embarrassed by the memory or even sad but instead he relishes that he is a part of your skin somehow. that’s all he might have left now.

“cool.” it was the last thing you said before taking off and leaving him completely numb.

as it would happen, obx isn’t big enough for you to run in the same circles and avoid one another. especially when the camerons love you like their own daughter. rose had called you daughter-in-law for about two years of your life before you both started blushing and getting shy about the title.

and rafe does in fact care because it’s about two weeks since your little truce and he’s seething at the fact his friends have been hanging out with you and not him.

no, it’s more so you’re hanging out with them and not him, but he won’t admit that. rafe’s coming back from topper’s place, pissed off beyond repair that his friend keeps mentioning how funny you are like rafe doesn’t know it. but even topper, despite his general asshole demeanor, knows that you’re off limits. no one has dared to talk about you in any slightly untoward way since childhood because rafe always dealt with it. the last time someone had commented on your body in middle school you had to clean up rafe’s bloodied knuckles. even now years later the silent understanding stands.

he can’t believe his misfortune luck when he sees you hanging out with wheezie in his backyard. you’re both lying on your stomachs on a picnic blanket, hunched over wheezie’s phone. you’d always been protective over his little sister.

“lil cameron you sure know how to pick em.” you look at her unbelieving that the creature on her phone screen is the crush she’s been gushing over. wheezie had texted you that she needed advice, and you had a hard time saying no to her. she’d also mentioned/threatened that she would have to ask rafe if you didn’t respond because sarah was too busy with john b. that made you rush over immediately, knowing if rafe got involved the kid would be in for hell.

“oh come on he’s not that bad!” he hears you two giggling and while he could easily ignore you it’s starting to get under his skin. rafe walks past and you both look up; wheezie giving him a small smile and wave while your smile just seems to disappear. he tries to not let it sting, his expression blank as your eyes briefly meet and he goes inside. you both return to dealing with the message her crush sent. wheezie, ever the perceptive teen, picks up on your little interaction immediately. “what’s that about?”

“ask your brother,” you try not to touch the subject, it’s been hard to ignore it when you’re alone. you’re doing your absolute best to live in the present.

“oh please you know he won’t tell me anything.” wheezie looks at you with her big bright eyes and you can’t say no to her. you still see her as the little girl who’d ask you to play with her when sarah didn’t.

“okay fine, he doesn’t want to be friends anymore and we kinda agreed to ignore each other from now on.” your eyes fixate on the picnic blanket, picking at the threads that are coming out, you’re sure you can see the feelings flash across her face, they mimic the ones you’re swallowing down.

“what?!” it’s as shocking as it should be, you know if rose found out she’d be giving rafe shit for it. for some reason she favored you over her own stepson and that only made you dislike her more. your relationship with ward and rose had always been complicated just as rafe’s had been with your own parents.

“we stopped talking while i was gone, i guess he just moved on.” wheezie, much like anyone else who knows you two even a little, knows that your statement is categorically false. rafe hadn’t moved on even an inch. in fact, she could bet he was watching you from inside. her earliest memories of you had always been by rafe’s side. rafe was always softer with you like he was softer with her, that side of him was her favorite. that was the rafe she knew, not this petulant manchild who was pretending he didn’t care about you.

“i’m sorry.” there was nothing else to say. if rafe was willing to give you up, no one would make him see reason.

“thanks wheeze, now back to your creature.” you painted on a fake smile, hoping at some point it’d feel real.

then there’s the club, you’re still a member even now and you look like a dream in a sundress. rafe showed up with topper, kelce was already there chatting with you at the bar. you were quite the sight, your textbooks splayed across the bar as you worked on your biology homework. he wondered how his friends had managed to get you to come. rafe kept his distance, his body angled towards the bar. topp and kelce had caught on, giving up on getting you two to be friendly. there wasn’t anything he could do when your perfume lingered in the air, the breeze plotting against him and blowing it his way. being taller than his friends also meant he couldn't really avoid seeing you when he looked over. the amusement of seeing you steadfastly studying while nursing a drink was making it hard for him to ignore you.

“wanna grab dinner? i’m feeling burgers.” topper suggested after the sun had gone down and the bar was starting to fill.

“i’m good.” you hadn’t felt hungry in a while. you felt behind in your classes from all the chaos of moving and having little time for your homework. your laid-back friends kept inviting you out and while you missed them and wanted to make up for lost time you were feeling stretched thin. the constant reminder of your lost friendship didn’t help the already sickening anxiety churning in your stomach.

“you sure?” kelce asked, noticing how you didn’t look up from your textbook.

“yeah i’m not hungry.” rafe could see it in your face, your cheeks weren’t as round as he remembered. he started to feel panicked at the thought he might be to blame, so he rallied the boys to leave. you walked home by yourself, still trying to finish your homework while walking, of course unsuccessfully. when your doorbell rang a few minutes after you got home you didn’t expect a bag at your front door. a burger and fries. you knew who it was, but you refused to acknowledge it. topper and kelce would never do this. after that you eat normally, rafe didn’t deserve your thanks and you were too proud to let him think it was because of him.

you catch up on your classes after hunkering down for a week and refusing any socializing. your home is finally moved in, your furniture fills the space, and you don’t mind being home. the realization that you can finally feel comfortable at home is bittersweet, the absence of your parents is welcome, but another isn’t. his absence is a curse that you just can’t lift.

a/n: the pain is almost over i swear! (i can’t handle too much angst) also this series won’t be too long i think five parts max!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading

[clar2aa]

I SCREAMED OMG

don't call me kid chapter 9 part 2 sneak peak under the cut...as a treat 😋

Your very first swing landed you in a sand trap.

It was a welcome excuse to separate yourself from the group for a minute, though all the walking in this heat was already annoying you. You gave up on wheeling your worn down rented golf bag through the course, pretty much just dragging it behind you at this point. The other golfers were probably laughing at you, a sad sight as you trudged past them, sweating profusely and oh-so-over this whole excursion.

Approaching the sand trap, you heard a comically weak horn beep out from behind you, turning to see Topper approaching in his golf cart, Carter noticeably missing from the seat next to him.

“Hey li-“

You cut off his carrying voice before it could even reach you.

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘little Carter’ I will run you over with your own golf cart.”

He pivoted, the syllables he almost said still hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“Lil…shawty. Is what I was going to say,” the doubting look you gave him only made him double down. “Hey lil’ shawty, what’s good?”

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to make you laugh on this god awful day, but you cracked a smile at that, making Topper beam with pride.

“Ride with me,” he offered, not leaving room for you to turn down as he climbed from the cart and threw your clubs in the back.

“On one condition,” you said.

“What’s that?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t make me dig my ball out of that sand trap.”

Without missing a beat, he pulled something from his pocket, leaning down as though he’d just discovered it on the ground.

“Wow, so crazy that I found your ball right here!” He tossed it to you with a wink and you gave him a grateful grin.

You slipped into the seat, your too-short skirt making your sweaty legs slide on the vinyl seat. Those caddies could eyefuck you all they wanted, nothing about this outfit made you feel sexy.

“Worn out already?” He nodded toward your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your calf muscle, sore from the walking already. “Bad news ‘cause we’ve got seventeen holes to go.”

“Good thing I have a strapping young chauffeur to cart me around then,” you patted his arm and he started up the cart.

“I got you sis.”

It was a nickname he’d called you in high school, always joking that he and Carter would get married, which she’d of course pretend to be annoyed by, smiling to herself in secret when she thought you couldn’t see. Now when he said it, a sadness singed the edges of the word. You gave him a frown, but he looked away, clearly wanting to avoid addressing the sadness you saw in his eyes.

You rode in silence for a few minutes as he caught up with the rest of your group at the second tee. When he pulled up, neither of you got out, sitting silently by each other, watching the group. 

Carter and Maddie were taking a selfie, holding up their clubs for the camera as Sabrina and Cassie compared outfits next to them. Behind them, Rafe lined up his shot, the other guys standing off to the side in polite reverence, taking the game entirely too seriously.

Topper watched Carter while you watched Rafe. The silence between you was palpable. Rafe finally took his swing, strong arms coming down hard as his broad torso twisted, leaving you no choice to think about how it felt below you in the car, and how it looked towering over you in your bedroom earlier today. 

Somewhere in Topper’s mind, you were sure he was having similar unwelcome flashbacks as Carter stretched her arms over her head, twisting her hips as she prepared for her turn at the tee. Truthfully, the two of you could not have picked more beautiful people to fall in love with. Clearly, it was working out really well for you both.

As though your thoughts were connected, Topper finally broke the silence, noting sarcastically “well we’re just a two man party over here aren’t we?”

You huffed a laugh, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap as an excuse to pull your eyes away from Rafe.

“Did you, um,” he struggled with the words, your narrowed eyes shooting up to him as you waited for the end of his question curiously. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Topper cleared his throat, “what you said earlier in your bedroom? Do you really think I’m so used to being rejected that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she finally admitted she loved me?”

You winced at the sound of your own cruel words being replayed back to you. You’d pulled no punches when Topper was just attempting to cheer you up, justifying your pettiness by blaming Rafe for your shitty mood. To his credit, Topper didn’t just lay down and take it, he put up his best fight.

“I don’t know. Did you really mean it when you said I can’t let him love me because I don’t actually love myself?” There was no malice in your tone, but a gentle reminder that he’d dished it out just as good as he got served.

His fallen face and avoidance of your eyes told you he regretted it just as much as you did, and your lean across the seat to bump his shoulder playfully told him all was forgiven. Siblings fight, after all.

As your gazes scanned back over the two loves of your lives, another cart came rolling past, stopping a few yards from where the two of you sat. A refreshment cart.

“Wanna get, like, stupid, sloppy drunk with me?” You suggested.

He was already turning the wheel in the direction of the drink cart, “you read my mind, lil’ shawty, you read my mind.”

[clar2aa]

how tf do i make a navigation post and make it pretty. like the photos that r in a row at the top of the post. i only reblog posts im acc clueless.

[clar2aa]

ugh thank u for writing this

rafe x low maintenance gf headcanons

cw: fluff, mentions of emotionally abusive family dynamics, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex but no details)

you’d always been treated as some sort of third parent, a therapist, a friend but never what you were: a daughter

that all changed when you started dating rafe

on top of being mistreated by your family, you’d never had a bf who treated you right

the first time rafe brought you flowers you cried, he thought he’d done something wrong but you were so touched you couldn’t say anything as you hugged him tight

he made sure to bring you flowers often, making sure you never ran out. you remember finding a flower from your bouquet in his car, asking him why he had it. “when it wilts i know i gotta get you more.” you’d proceeded to make him pull over.

it was like he was dead set on making you fall even more in love when he said, “as fucking great as that was, i don’t do these things for sex baby, i don’t expect anything okay?” you told him you knew that, which you didn’t actually since all the guys you had been with before seemed to be like that, and proceeded to kiss him some more.

to him treating you like a princess came naturally, he was never good at expressing himself so buying you presents, taking care of you, doing things for you was just second nature

in the beginning he thought it was cute how appreciative you were but when you still got shocked from his actions after months he realized you had just never been treated how you deserve

and that pissess him off

he makes it a point to treat you like an absolute princess, not even letting you open a single door by yourself, you don’t even remember the last time you put your heels on by yourself because he was always crouching down to help you before you could think about it

“rafe if you spoil me so much ill get used to it.” you murmured as you watched your 6’2 gently place your heeled foot on his knee so he could buckle the shoe. his touch was always so gentle, as if he’d hurt you like this.

“that’s kinda the point angel,” he says it without hesitation, brows a bit furrowed as he looks for the best notch that won’t cause you discomfort. you think you might start crying again but you bite the inside of your cheek and kiss him when he stands up

rafe hates how your family treats you, but he holds his tongue because he knows you love them it doesn’t matter to him if your family hates them, he know he should seek their approval but he doesn’t think they deserve to dictate any part of your life

he’s holding back until your mom oversteps her bounds in front of him and he just has to step in, taking over whatever thing she told you to do even though he knew your mother was perfectly capable. he guises it as being a good future son-in-law

“it’s okay rafe-“ you say it without realizing, so used to taking the load off of others.

“you can ask me from now on if you need anything,” he looks pointedly at your mother with a smile you know is fake. you just brush it off and think rafe is just trying to make a good impression. you don’t know he doesn’t give a fuck what your parents think. he even starts hating your sibling.

your brother is older than you but never acts that way. when you mentioned an older brother he expected someone protective of you. he was met with someone doted on by your mother, irresponsible and immature and uncaring of his sister. it seemed like you were the older sibling.

you’d been living with your parents while you both dated, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with it until rafe gets you to move out to live with him. your parents are against it at first but with the help rafe has been they have little reason to refuse him.

when you do move out you realize how much better everything is. you’re not your mother’s caretaker, or your parent’s marriage counselor, or even your brother’s mom. you’re you. and you can finally breathe. rafe doesn’t expect anything from you and it slightly unnerves you, how could he take care of you without expecting anything in return?

he pays for everything, even if you push back at first, he replaces your card in your wallet with his going as far as hiding your card and he knows you have a job and that you can afford it yourself but he doesn’t see why you have to

you’d gotten your nails done and shown them to him and when he didn’t see a charge on his card he pouted for a whole day until you gave in and agreed to use it next time

but rafe knows you’re holding back, he can see that you’re spending frugally. he doesn’t want you to, in fact nothing would make him happier than seeing a dent taken out of his bank account because of his beautiful caring girlfriend

you remember your first date when he got offended that you’d offered to split the bill, he was even more shocked when you thanked him profusely after for paying

when you whine about him taking your card he finally has to speak up, “baby, what’s yours is mine right?” you nod without pause, you loved when rafe drove your car or used your skincare. it felt so intimate and domestic like you were a married couple, the thought bringing heat to your face. “right, so what’s mine is yours.” and you can’t really refute that.

one day when he’s drying your hair after your shower, you can’t help but ask, “why are you so nice to me rafey?”

“i love you, s’that simple”

“i love you too but no one’s ever been this nice to me.”

“no ones ever been as nice to me as you are either, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong right?” he always has a way of making you see his side so effortlessly you have to agree. you could never argue that rafe didn’t deserve the amount of love you gave him or more.

“yeah, thank you for taking care of me”

“‘you gonna thank me for the rest of our lives?” you just stare at him blankly and rafe watches the tears well up in your eyes. “hey don’t cry baby, you can thank me as many times as you want okay? just don’t go thinking you deserve any less than this.”

“i’m never letting you go.”

“i’m counting on it.”

on your anniversary, rafe buys you a car and even though you do thank him profusely and maybe cry a little it doesn’t turn your stomach with anxiety on how to thank him properly or that you don’t deserve it. instead you spend the night loving your boyfriend as much as he loves you. you realize rafe just has a different way of showing it.

a/n: instead of crashing out ab my family i wrote this :)

taglist: @ggraycelynn @clar2aa

[clar2aa]

BOOM SHAKALAKAKAKAJAJJA EHEBHSJSH

BUNNY

Sirius Black x bunny!animagus!f!reader

Summary: in which Sirius loves to tease his bunny girl whenever he can

Warnings: suggestive, no use of y/n, est relationship

A/N: i thought the way it looked was strange, so i changed the appearance of the post.

Masterlist

Sirius Black had the infuriating habit of teasing you whenever you were in your animagus forms. Transformed into a tiny bunny, you were a stark contrast to the large, imposing dog he became. Whenever you found yourselves alone on the grounds of Hogwarts or tucked away in some hidden corner, Sirius just couldn’t resist. With a speed and precision that made you roll your eyes, he would gently grab you by the scruff of the neck with his teeth, as if you were a toy. Then came his signature look — that mischievous, satisfied glint, almost daring you to react. But the truth was, even when you protested, both of you knew your racing heart wasn’t out of fear.

Now, back in the castle, you were alone in a narrow corridor near the west tower. The earlier conversation — full of laughter, teasing, and that unmistakable intense energy — had evolved into what could only be described as a typical scene between the two of you.

“You really should stop doing that, Sirius,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “One day your teeth are going to tear my neck. I’m a bunny, remember? Fragile skin and all.”

He, of course, gave you that crooked smile that made your stomach twist. His black, unruly hair fell over his bright gray eyes, and his relaxed posture only added to his dangerously charming aura.

“Oh, but you didn’t seem so worried last time,” he teased, taking a step closer. His eyes danced with mischief, but there was a tenderness there — something he reserved only for you.

“I’m serious, Black. Shameless dog,” you insisted, but your whining tone betrayed you.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, his smile widening. “Shameless, huh? Let’s see about that.”

Before you could react, he took another step, pinning you against the cold stone wall. The weight of his breath seemed to echo in the empty corridor, mingling with the silence that only heightened the tension between you. Sirius was too close, the heat of his body burning through the nonexistent space. His eyes, always so intense, now gleamed with something darker — possession, desire, and that blatant adoration he never hid from you.

The tip of his nose brushed against your neck, trailing slowly, as if he were sniffing out every erratic beat of your heart.

You barely had time to respond before he closed his teeth around the soft curve between your shoulder and neck, biting for real this time. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to be felt — enough to draw out a small gasp you couldn’t hold back. The pain was sharp, intense, and, somehow, almost too good. He held on for a few seconds, as if he wanted to mark you, imprint some part of himself onto your skin, your heart.

When he let go, the heat of the bite lingered, throbbing gently. Sirius pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, and the smile he gave was pure challenge and satisfaction, as if he knew exactly what he had just stirred in you.

“That hurt,” you whispered, though your voice was rougher than you intended.

“Did it?” he asked, his tone dangerously soft — both an invitation and a tease. He tilted his head, and before you could answer, his lips were back at the spot where his teeth had been moments before. Only this time, he used them to soothe the skin. Slow, gentle kisses, as if he wanted to erase the mark he’d just left — or maybe make it impossible to forget.

“You know,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and almost feline, “you didn’t seem to be complaining just now.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but it was impossible to deny the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were now on your waist, fingers firm, holding you there as if you might run — which, of course, was never an option.

“Sirius…” You tried to sound stern, but the word came out more like a sigh.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you again, the glint in his eyes almost predatory but somehow endearing in a way that was so, so Sirius. “You complain so much,” he said, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from yours, “but deep down, I think you like it.”

[clar2aa]

“get a load of this guy” GUYS IM TRYINGGGG

[clar2aa]

this made my hole weak… i mean my whole week☺️

the sluttiest thing drew has ever done is this mustache. #pleaseatmeout

[clar2aa]

PART 4 PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE

if you couldnt tell i love this.

FEMININE URGE | a rafe cameron fic.

— when a pogue takes a liking towards a certain kook. named it “feminine urge” because everything she’ll do here comes from that.

a/n: reader is just a girl with a hobby 🙌🏻

02 | 03

feminine urge taglist: @justheretoreadstories @anothertimegirl @kaiparkerwifes @xoxo-ada @samwinchesterisawhore @mysummerwinesblog @marleymarleymarleymarley @lilithblackkk @urbimom @mofusandme0w @ethanthequeefqueen @starrxxgirl @mbella06

[clar2aa]

ur acc unreal for this omg.

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A mini-series set in my Riddle Family Series, which is kind of set in World Burn (spoilers ahead!).

In this story, Y/N and Tom Riddle's children discover a hidden portal within Hogwarts that allows them to witness their parents' love story unfold. It all begins when Marvolo, the youngest, stumbles upon the portal just weeks into his first year. Intrigued, he brings his older siblings, Delphini and Mattheo, along for the adventure.

Each installment will be a self-contained one-shot, showcasing different moments when the kids travel back in time and catch glimpses of Y/N and Tom’s past. Notes: Just a heads-up—I might release fics out of order since I constantly get new ideas and get too excited to write them. That’s also why I rarely finish series! 😆

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 - Lost in thought, Marvolo accidentally steps through a portal in the dungeons, finding himself in a past Hogwarts. When he encounters a teenage Y/N, he struggles to hide his shock—but his greatest challenge comes when he meets his younger father. Tom Riddle knows something is off, and Marvolo realizes he may have just made a dangerous mistake.

𝐀 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 - Marvolo confronts his teenage father, revealing the truth of their connection. But Tom Riddle already knows—he’s seen glimpses of the future in the Mirror of Erised. When Y/N enters the library with another boy, both Riddles struggle with emotions neither can act on.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Marvolo sneaks into the corridor outside the classroom, curious and eager to witness a moment between his young father, Tom, and his mother, Y/N. Though he knows he shouldn’t be there, he can’t resist watching them interact.

𝐏𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 - Marvolo bursts into his father’s classroom, still reeling from his experience in the past. Tom Riddle, unsurprised, calmly acknowledges Marvolo’s return, revealing he knew Marvolo had been watching. Marvolo is left speechless by his father’s apparent foresight. While his siblings, Mattheo and Delphini are in disbelief in Marvolos discovery.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 - Marvolo returns to the past and watches as his young father, Tom Riddle, stands before the Mirror of Erised. Instead of his usual ambitions, Tom sees something entirely unexpected—himself as a father, surrounded by children who love him, with Y/N at his side.

𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 - Watching Y/N’s playful, carefree nature, Delphini is shocked—this is not the cautious, responsible mother she knows in her own time. Noticing Delphini’s lack of winter clothes, Y/N insists on buying her warm attire, unknowingly spoiling her own future daughter.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 - On the Hogwarts Express, a teary-eyed Y/N collides with a young Tom Riddle, unknowingly igniting the first spark of a connection that would span generations.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐇𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 - Tom and Y/N reminisce about the day they first met, and Tom apologizes for not comforting her properly. He confesses that she taught him how to love and show affection—something only she could bring out of him.

Back to The Riddle Family Series // Tom Riddle Masterlist // Masterlist

[clar2aa]

wow. (the neighbourhood is literally my life)

♯ JEALOU$Y ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! an unexpected situation catches you off guard in the heart of florence and your boyfriend reveals a side of him you’ve never seen before (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, jealous + italian theo, translation of foreign language + lmk !

WORD COUNT! 1.3k

NOTES! he’s so fine when he’s jealous❕

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT WAS FAR FROM HAVING A SHORT TEMPER (UNLIKE HIS BEST FRIEND) BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN HE WAS NECESSARILY CARELESS. Sometimes, jealousy wrapped around his heart like the snake representing his house, squeezing and picking at the muscle, giving it wounds for blood to shed from.

And every time he tried to push those feelings aside, they came back even stronger than before in a crashing wave full of raw emotion. He felt like a puppet on a string that was pulled tight by the cruel hands of jealousy. His actions were no longer his own.

The summer sun bathed the picturesque streets of Florence in a warm, golden glow, casting a honeyed hue over the ancient city. Cobblestone pathways, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, stretched along the bustling streets. Each turn revealed a new delight: charming cafés with wrought-iron tables spilling onto the sidewalks, historic landmarks standing as silent reminders of the past, and vibrant marketplaces bursting with life and color. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of aged stone and the tantalizing whiff of fresh espresso. The fragrance was an intoxicating blend, making every breath feel like a taste of paradise. The sounds of Florence added to the sensory feast: the melodic chatter of locals and tourists, the clinking of glasses and cutlery from the outdoor restaurants, and the distant strains of street musicians playing heavenly tunes on their violins and accordions.

Florence, in the embrace of summer, was absolutely beautiful. It was a place where history and romance intertwined, where every corner held a new discovery, and every moment was a celebration of the beauty of life. The city's magic lay not just in its landmarks, but in the way it made you feel — alive, enchanted, and eternally in love with the world around you.

You walked hand in hand with Theodore, your fingers intertwined in one as you explored the enchanting city. This vacation had been his idea, a chance for the two of you to escape the pressures of Hogwarts and immerse yourselves in the beauty and romance of Italy. Theo's Italian heritage made the trip even more special; he was eager to show you the places that held a special place in his heart.

As you wandered through a bustling street, you paused to admire a street artist's breathtaking paintings. The vibrant colors and detailed brushstrokes captured the scenery of Florence in ways that made the city's beauty stand out even more, and you found yourself lost in the artwork. Theo had stepped away momentarily to get you both something to eat from a nearby stand, leaving you alone but content. The hum of the city buzzed around you, voices of people blending with the occasional strum of a guitar.

While you were engrossed in the art, a group of local boys approached, their laughter and chatter filling the air. They were handsome and confident, their flirtatious smiles and easy charm unmistakable. One of them, with dark, curly hair and a mischievous grin, stepped forward, clearly intent on catching your attention. His eyes sparkled with interest as he gestured towards you.

"Sei molto bella." ("You are very beautiful.")

You blinked, a bit taken aback. Although you had picked up a few phrases during your time with Theo, your grasp of the language was far from fluent. You understood enough to know that he was complimenting you, but the exact words of meaning escaped you.

Before you could respond, another boy joined in, his tone equally playful. "Vuoi venire a fare una passeggiata con noi?" ("Do you want to go for a walk with us?")

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, both from the unexpected attention and your inability to respond. Your eyes darted around, hoping to spot your boyfriend. You were feeling increasingly uncomfortable, unsure how to extricate yourself from the situation.

Just as you were about to attempt a polite but awkward decline, you heard Theo's voice, sharp and commanding. "Ehi, lasciatela in pace!" ("Hey, leave her alone!")

The transformation in him was startling. Theo, usually so calm and composed, had a fierce intensity in his eyes. He stepped between you and the group of boys, his posture protective, his expression a stormy mix of anger and determination. The easygoing demeanor he often sported was replaced by a fierce warning.

His broad shoulders squared, blocking the boys' view of you completely, creating a barrier that was both physical and emotional. The bright warmth of the sun seemed to dim in comparison to the fire that burned in Theo's gaze. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the gentle, sweet boyfriend you knew into a guardian ready to defend the owner of his heart and soul.

The boys, who had moments ago been brimming with confidence, raised their hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously. "Calmati, amico. Non volevamo causare problemi," one of them said, trying to diffuse the situation. ("Calm down, friend. We didn't want to cause trouble.")

But Theo wasn't having any of it. Each word was a blade of a dagger, cutting through the casual flirtation of the boys, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. "Non vedete che non è interessata? Andatevene prima che mi arrabbi davvero." ("Can't you see she's not interested? Walk away before I really get angry."). His voice was low and menacing as he continued in rapid Italian, his words too fast for you to catch but clearly effective in making the boys rethink their approach. They muttered a few apologies before scurrying away, casting wary glances over their shoulders.

Theo turned to you, his eyes softening instantly as he took in your bewildered expression. The fierce protector you had just witnessed melted away, replaced by your sweet boy you knew so well. "Are you okay?" His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting touch.

You nodded, still a bit shaken. "I'm fine. They were just . . . I didn't understand what they were saying," you admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Theo's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "They were trying to flirt with you," he explained. "But don't worry, they're gone now."

You managed a small laugh, the tension easing out of your body. "I figured that much," you said, your voice lightening. "Thank you, Theo."

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart were instantly calming. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. "I just couldn't stand the thought of them bothering you."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The fierce protectiveness in his gaze had melted into something softer, more tender. "You were amazing," you said honestly. "I've never seen you like that before."

Theo's smile widened, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, I can't help it," he said, his tone teasing but sincere. "You bring out the best in me."

As you continued your walk through the beautiful streets of Florence, Theo kept you close, his arm securely around you. The incident with the local boys faded into the background, replaced by the joy of being together in such a magical place. The city's charm and Theo's unwavering affection made you feel like you were living in a dream.

Later that evening, as you sat together at a cozy café, sipping on rich Italian espresso, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Theo. His protective nature, his deep love for you, and his ability to make you feel safe and cherished were all things you treasured deeply. As the sun set over the Florence skyline, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, you leaned into Theo, feeling utterly content.

In that moment, with the world bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you knew that no matter where you were, as long as you were with Theo, you were home.

[clar2aa]

just read this whole thing instead of annotating my homework...

bro this was so good i literally dont have anywords. u cooked. omg.

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

SERIES MASTERLIST

tags: secret relationship trope, potter!reader, gryffindor! reader; wc in total: 26.9k

chapter one: being the chosen one's sister, you keep your relationship with theodore nott a secret, despite all the hardships that came with sneaking around.

chapter two: when sneaking out of your dorm, theo is almost cornered by ron. your friends start to get suspicious of you, as you get paired up with theo for potions and have to keep the act up.

chapter three: a gryffindor slytherin brawl leads to an argument between you and theo, who is tired of keeping you a secret.

chapter four: when you get reckless without secret after a heated quidditch game, harry finds out about your relationship with theo.

chapter five: the fight with your brother leaves you picking up the pieces, sharing an intimate moment with theo and mending your relationship with your brother.

chapter six: you are afraid telling theo you are a virgin might turn him away, but you couldn't have anticipated his reaction. [nsfw]

[clar2aa]

Idk if the lana and gossip girl references were on purpose but ugh I love this

three words, eight letters - mattheo riddle

summary: you confessed your feelings to mattheo months ago, and his unwillingness to do the same might be the very thing that breaks you apart for good.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst!!! y'all i literally hurt my own feelings writing this. but i had several requests for angst so here you go! ultimately it's flangst because please, we're not doing real sad on this blog.

a/n: this is the first of two v-day fics i have to share! happy love month my dears, you are all my valentines, no takebacks! ily! bonus points to anyone who gets the reference from the title!

Mattheo was slouched in the largest armchair in the common room staring blankly at the flames in the fireplace as he fidgeted with his lighter, flicking it on repeatedly. Chk, chk, chk. He was thinking about everything and nothing when he heard your voice and was shaken out of his stupor.

He glanced up to see you walking into the room with Enzo and Blaise at your side, laughing at something one of them had said before you parted ways.

Gods she's beautiful he thought, as a familiar warmth settled in his chest and fuck if I'm not glad she's mine.

You were searching the common room like you were looking for someone, and he was about to get to his feet when your eyes lit up in recognition, twinkling, as your perfect lips curved into his favorite smile, the one reserved just for him; but the warmth in his chest disappeared, replaced with a bolt of something that felt an awful lot like fear when he realized your smile wasn't for him.

Another guy was approaching you that Mattheo didn't recognize and the concept tickled something in the back of his brain... didn't he know everyone in this house?

He immediately began trying to place him, to size him up. He had a few inches on Mattheo and though he was loathe to admit it, he was a little broader and more muscular too. His hair was a bit darker, his curls a bit more tamed and the way you were looking at him had Mattheo physically shaking with rage.

He was approaching you with confidence, with ease, and with a lopsided smile and a look in his eye that hinted at exactly what he had in mind and Mattheo was on his feet and moving towards you before he knew what he was doing.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice carrying in a way that demanded attention.

But either you didn't hear him, or worse, you were ignoring him because your eyes never left the guy who was now dangerously close to you.

"Hey!" he shouted louder, his voice booming now. "Get the fuck away from her!"

But you were totally entranced as the guy stopped before you, and you pressed your hands to his chest and ran them up around his neck, tugging at his curls in the very way Mattheo loved most; he could almost feel the ghostly whisper of your fingers on his neck now, even as he pushed people, shoved them aside in his effort to get to you, to stop whatever the hell was going on.

He was running but felt like he was going nowhere, he was shouting, but it was like no one could hear him. And then the stranger sunk his lips to yours and it was like Mattheo could have called up hell itself in his fury as he lunged for him, but met nothing, falling into deep darkness.

Mattheo's eyes flew open as he clawed at his chest, breathing frantically as he tangled in his sheets, sitting up in his four-poster bed.

...In his four-poster bed.

...In his dormitory.

...It was a dream?

He sat up fully, cradling his head in his hands as he tried to calm his racing heart and steady his breath. He was granted a single moment of relief as he realized the entire scene he'd just witnessed was a fabrication of his mind before he remembered why he was alone in his bed in the first place, why you weren't tucked into his arms, rubbing your eyes and granting him your sleepy smile, his favorite way to start every day.

Fuck he thought as he remembered your argument from the night before, dread settling in his stomach like a rock as he threw back his covers.

It was the last night before everyone returned home for winter break and Mattheo had probably had too much firewhiskey; maybe you both had, he thought, as he watched you wobble beside him as he walked you back to your dormitory. The corridor was empty given the late hour, the only sound the occasional rustle of a painting and your heeled shoes against the cobblestones.

"You're so unserious" you said.

"Well, not everything is as serious as you make it" he replied smartly, smirking at you.

"Not even us?" you asked as you stopped walking to face him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, drawing his gaze to the ceiling. He did not want to have this conversation with you... again.

You sighed, exasperated at his reaction and moved to keep walking. "Forget it" you mumbled.

Great, he thought. Now he'd managed to piss you off without even saying anything.

"C'mon, c'mere" he said, grabbing your hand pleadingly and pulling you back towards him.

But you didn't relent.

"You're not getting out of this this time" you said, pulling your hand back.

His face sat in an angry sneer, unfamiliar with the feeling of not getting his way.

"It's a simple question that you refuse to answer" you pushed. "How. Do. You. Feel. About. Me?—"

"—Why do you keep asking me this shit?"

"Because it's important to me! Because I want to hear you say it. That's not too much to ask Matty!"

And he knew you were right. So he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I...care about you, you know that."

"And that's it?"

"Is that not enough?!" he asked, more loudly and harshly than he'd intended. But you were relentlessly pressing up against an insecurity he didn't want to face and it was wearing him thin.

Your eyes watered at his tone, which immediately made him feel even more full of self-loathing.

"I told you I loved you two months ago" you whispered. "And every day you don't say it back breaks my heart just a little bit more and leaves me wondering what I am to you."

He could physically feel your vulnerability, could see it written on your face in the tears perched in your eyes that were wide and desperately searching his face for answers he couldn't give you, in the wobble of your bottom lip that you were biting to keep from breaking down.

But he didn't have a single weapon in his arsenal to fight this emotional battle, he didn't have any context or experience with these kind of feelings, or any idea what to say to make it better. So he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, slamming down the walls around his heart that you'd been beating against since the day he met you.

And it was like you could see him put them up, because you shook your head in disbelief, in disappointment and swiped at your eyes.

"And there it is" you said quietly as you turned away from him.

The fact that you could see through him so clearly, so easily, and the fact that he couldn't bring himself to let you in infuriated him.

"Well princess" he snapped, twisting your once affectionate nickname, "If I'm such a disappointment, why don't you go find someone else who can tell you what you want to hear?"

You turned back to him slowly, your cheeks flush with the shock of his words.

"What?" you whispered in disbelief.

"I can't give you what you want and I clearly don't make you happy" he said, gesturing to the crumbling expression on your face, "So why waste your time?"

"Matty" you said, reaching for him, trying urgently to stop his train of thought.

"Nah that sounds like a great idea" he said, pushing your hand away as his lips curved into a sarcastic smile that terrified you, that brought to the surface every fear you'd had about how he'd break your heart, every warning you didn't heed along the way. "It's obvious this isn't working—."

"—Stop, please stop, that's not at all what I'm saying, Matty, I love—"

"—Don't" he said simply.

He shook his head, barely tracing his eyes over you before he turned to walk away, the distant echoes of your crying chasing him as they reverberated off the stone walls.

He hastily grabbed his clothing off the floor, wobbling as he pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt.

"What time is it?" he asked gruffly, looking at Enzo.

"Well, good morning to you too—"

"—What fucking time is it?" he growled.

"Eleven" Draco muttered as he walked by. "The first train leaves in twenty."

"Fuck" he said as he slipped on shoes and made for the door, brushing by Theo and Blaise.

The castle was in disorderly chaos with students departing for the holidays; the corridors were crowded with luggage and groups of friends saying their goodbyes that acted as a veritable obstacle course for him that he wound through urgently to get to you on time. He didn't hesitate to give a shove when it was warranted, he knew you'd be on the first train home because you had planned to leave together before he'd thrown a fucking dynamite into your relationship.

His head pounded with his hangover and his regret, neither of which did anything to help the nausea he felt as he remembered what he'd say to you and the mental image of his nightmare that felt more like a reality every moment he couldn't see you, couldn't touch you.

His feet were moving faster than his brain and by the time he found you he wished to Salazar he'd spent more time figuring out what to say. Unlike him, you showed no visible signs of a rough night; your tear-stained face and smudged makeup were wiped clear and you were dressed beautifully as you hoisted your luggage onto the train and hopped onto the platform.

"YN!" he shouted.

But just like in his dream, you didn't hear him.

The sharp conductor's whistle sounded, signaling five minutes to departure.

"YN!" he shouted louder.

A few people around him looked up as he ran past and finally you did too, your eyes wide with surprise at the sight of him dodging around people to get to you, his cheeks flushed, his curls windblown.

You swallowed visibly as he approached you, but you didn't say anything as you stepped back off the train.

He reached for you before thinking better of it and pulling his hand back.

"I..." he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet as he tried to catch his breath.

"...Am sorry about last night. I shouldn't have said a lot of what I said...I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

Your eyebrow quirked, though your face remained serious. An apology from Mattheo Riddle? Was the sky falling?

His eyes met yours and though they were red rimmed and told of a restless sleep, they remained a perfect, intoxicating shade of chocolate brown that caught your next breath, as it always did.

He paused again, his face scrunching as he carded his hand frustratedly through his hair.

"M'not great with words, or feelings."

You shot him a look as if to say "No shit."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, but I—fuck—I do— when you said—I..."

He was trying so hard to get whatever he needed to say out, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Against your better judgement you reached out and tangled your warm fingers in his cold hand.

He looked down at your intertwined fingers and then up at expectant smile on your lips.

"I fucking love you" he exhaled heavily. "I have probably since the first time you let me kiss you. And it terrified me, because loving you means I have a chance of losing you, of getting my heart fucking destroyed, of giving you the power to destroy me, and I don't let people get that close to me for that reason. But not telling you how I felt was destroying me, destroying us all the same. So, fuck it. I love you. Now you know."

You had gotten closer to him with each word and were looking up at him now as you pressed your hands to his chest, just like in his dream and he was certain you could feel his heart hammering there as you smiled at him quietly.

"Can you please say something?" he whispered as he searched your eyes.

"Oh, you want me to say it back? Would it feel really really nice to hear me say it back? Like, you'd feel safe and seen and validated and not alone on a fucking island wondering where you stood with me?" you said with a tilt of your head, challenging him.

He pursed his lips, pushing his tongue into his cheek and pouting slightly as he broke his gaze from yours.

"I deserved that" he said.

You waited a moment longer, dragging it out.

"I love you too, Mattheo Riddle. I forgive you. And I promise I will never, ever destroy that perfect, stubborn heart of yours."

You smiled and looped your hands around his neck, tangling your fingers in his curls in a way that sent shivers down his back that had nothing to do with the soft snowfall that had started. It felt like the earth, the universe itself was back on its axis again and he smiled at you, wide and honest.

"Say it again?" you whispered as you leaned into him, brushing your lips just on top of his.

"I deserved that?" he teased, repeating the last thing he'd said, instantly feeling your lips pout against his own.

"Kidding" he whispered as his hands wound to your hips, pulling you into him.

"I love you, princess" he said quietly, slowly, reveling in the way it filled a part of his heart with warmth that he'd never felt before as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco

[clar2aa]

wait i love this sm omg.

DOUBLE LIFE.

pairing. Tangerine x wife! reader

synopsis. everyone has their secrets, your biggest one was your job.

warnings. Tangerine’s real name being Aaron, Lemon’s real name being Brian, this is kinda short, nothing more ig?

IN THE MORNING, you were a loving wife who cared deeply for your husband, Aaron. But in the afternoon, you turned into a deadly assassin.

On your wedding day, you promised Aaron you would never lie or keep secrets. But there was one truth you never told him: your dangerous job. Aaron believed you worked at the little bakery you owned, especially when he went on his "work trips”.

Technically, you never lied. He never asked about your real job.

Even though Aaron didn't know what you really did for living, you knew all about his work. You knew he and his brother, Brian, were assassins too. Aaron called his missions "work trips" and you let him think you didn't know.

It was safer that way, for both of you.

You always planned your missions so you would be back home before Aaron returned. You were always ready to welcome him back from his "business trips". It was cute how he had no idea about your secret double life.

So there you were, in Tokyo, boarding a bullet train. You had an easy task: steal a briefcase and disappear from the train. Nothing hard, no required killings or disasters.

Just a normal theft.

From the time you stepped onto the train, you tried to do your job as fast as you could. You furiously searched for the one specific briefcase. It had a unique mark—a small train sticker on the handle.

Bingo. You found exactly what you wanted. "I think I found it," you said to Dylan, your handler, on the phone. You held the phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed the briefcase.

You started to slowly realize something as you brushed your thumb over the train sticker. It wasn’t just an ordinary train. It was a sticker of some train you couldn’t remember the name of from Thomas the Tank Engine—a kids show that Brian had always been weirdly fixated on and talked about.

You were Percy, of course.

It could mean two things.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Or maybe your husband and brother-in-law were on this train too.

You quickly knew the answer when you looked through the glass door and spotted your husband, Aaron, sitting in economy class. He was casually dressed, blending in with the other passengers, but there was no mistaking him. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that this was no coincidence.

Carefully, you continued to observe, noticing Brian who sat opposite of Aaron, seemingly engrossed in his phone.

But Aaron wasn't your husband for no reason. He could literally sense your presence.

"What's up, man?" Brian asked his brother, noticing Aaron's sudden tension.

"I guess I just miss Y/n," Aaron shrugged, trying to shake off the feeling.

"You always miss her," Brian replied with a chuckle. "She's got you wrapped around her finger."

Aaron smiled, but his eyes continued to scan the train, the nagging feeling that something was off.

You quickly walked through the narrow, never-ending aisle of the train cars, your mind racing with the recent revelations. You had missed your station stop, too occupied by your thoughts and the intense conversation with Aaron.

With each step, you felt the tension and anxiety building. The briefcase was still in your grasp, and you needed to find a way to get off this train without drawing any more attention.

"Madam?!" someone yelled after you, and you recognized the voice immediately. It was Aaron.

You didn't stop. Instead, you quickened your pace. "Madam?!" he called out again before grabbing you by the shoulder, making you turn around.

You looked into his eyes, and he looked at you with an emotion you couldn't even recognize. "No fucking way," he cursed as he saw you.

You were quiet. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. "What are you doing here?!" he asked, his voice filled with confusion and concern.

"Could ask you the same thing," you started, trying to avoid his question.

"Well, I'm here on my business trip," he said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation.

His eyes wandered over your body, finally landing on their briefcase in your hands—the one you were supposed to steal. "And why do you have our briefcase?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

A wave of realization hit him. "Fuck me," he breathed out, trying to process it. "You're an assassin."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he raised his voice, frustration evident. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay calm. "Because I knew you would freak out," you admitted. "Just like now."

"Don't act like you're innocent, Aaron," you started, your anger only growing.

"Psst, I'm Tangerine," he corrected you, using his code name. You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever. I know you're an assassin—I've known for years," you began, your tone turning passive-aggressive. "I've kept your secret, just like I've kept mine!”

Aaron—or Tangerine—looked at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. "And you never thought to tell me?" he asked, his voice rising again. "Why hide it?”

"Because to be honest, you two suck at this job," you shrugged, chuckling to yourself.

"Pardon, love?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, you were supposed to look after this briefcase, and finding it was the easiest thing ever," you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

"So what now?" Aaron asked, looking at you with a challenging glint in his eyes. "Are we going to fight for it?" he smirked, clearly enjoying the tension.

"I'll kick your ass," you smirked back, feeling a mix of adrenaline and excitement.