empath-bunny

[empath-bunny]

the one where you make theo cry (an ain’t that love inspired drabble)

Theodore Nott was hardly the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He had spent years perfecting his signature air of indifference, the one that captivated most others, what compelled them to make an impression on him. Of course, all that fell away when it came to you.

It started subtly. A sigh escaping your lips after a long day would leave him restless, make his bones a little weary. When you rubbed your temples in frustration, he found himself getting agitated with you - whatever was vexing you so undoubtedly deserved his irritation too. And when you laughed - loud, unabashed - it felt like a breath of fresh air.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone. No, he'd promised himself a long time ago, he wouldn't tell a soul - not his friends, not his family, and certainly not you. Little did he know he had yet to see a moment of yours that would truly unravel him at the seams.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday whilst tracking down Mattheo. He had checked their dorm, the Great Hall, the Quidditch pitch, everywhere - which left solely your dorm. Theo vaguely remembered him mentioning something about fixing one of the pipes in the bathroom, which was really just a ploy to impress one of your roommates more than anything.

But as he passed through the Slytherin common room on his way there, your droopy, teary eyes peering up at him for a split second, Theo swore he felt something inside of him crack open. You weren’t crying, not quite, but you were close. And Merlin, he hated it. Hated how his throat constricted, how his chest tightened, how his own stomach twisted with the bitterness of your misery.

He looked almost comically stricken briefly before straightening his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice low.

"It’s nothing." You shook your head, brushing it off with a tight, superficial smile as you moved up to make room for him. "Mattheo’s almost done, he’ll be down in a second."

Still taken aback, Theo accepted the seat beside you 

"It doesn't look like nothing," he prompted. You laughed weakly, dabbing at your eyes.

"Don't worry. It is, really. I'm just feeling a little…hormonal today." Your gaze fell back to the book and almost immediately, your emotions betrayed you once again.

You sniffled as your face screwed up in your effort to choke back your sobs. Theo felt a lump in his throat and an unfamiliar stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s just - “ you forced out, “he’s so small. Look at him, Theo. He’s tiny. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know about taxes. He doesn’t even know about taxes.”

Theo finally caught sight of the page of your book. It had a picture of a baby niffler, no bigger than the size of your thumb - tiny, soft, with big, round, trusting (if only slightly mischievous) eyes.

As you dissolved into more stifled sobs, Theo blinked, caught completely off guard. Then, to everyone’s horror - including his own - his eyes misted over too.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," Blaise muttered from across the room, watching the scene unfold. "Are you actually crying?"

“It’s fucking tiny.”

Theo scowled at him, aggressively wiping his face. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the sound of your quiet, shuddering breaths, or the way your shoulders trembled under his hands as he pulled you close.

You hiccupped between sobs. "I just love it so much."

Theo swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah. Me too." He glanced at the book in your lap again. He hugged you closer, deciding you were right - how dare a Niffler be that tiny, baby or otherwise?

Blaise sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. I’ve seen enough."

Theo’s tears dried as quickly as they came, but the two of you stayed pressed together for a long time after Blaise left, even after your breathing had slowed into something more measured once again. You pressed your cool check against his shoulder, half-dozing.

Unthinkingly, Theo pried your clenched fist open. Surprisingly, you let him thread his fingers through your own. He glanced down at you, at the soft locks of hair curling around your tearstained face. He resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him questioning. His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Just - just let me, alright?”

A playful smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, Teddy.” Your smile turned teasing. “Wait till Mattheo hears you cried over a baby niffler.”

Theo took on a wounded look. “So did you.”

As the two of you curled up again, Theo decided that this emotional telepathy wasn’t the worst thing in the world. When you sighed, he sighed. When you laughed, he laughed. When you hurt, he hurt. When you cried over a baby niffler… apparently, he did, too.

He hardly dared to think it, but he did it all the same.

Wasn’t that love?

[empath-bunny]

Blurb (Werewolf Theodore Nott)

Theodore Nott was already bleeding out when you found him—a half-shifted, feral thing, eyes burning amber, body torn apart from whatever hell he’d barely survived.

As a healer, you knew the rules.

Never help a dying werewolf.

Never get close enough for them to smell you.

Never, ever touch them when they’re in that cursed state between man and beast.

But you? You were stupid.

You dropped to your knees. Pressed your trembling hands to his open wounds. Whispered ancient incantations even as his breath came in ragged, uneven snarls. Even as his golden gaze flickered up—fixing on you.

And in return?

He bit you.

Not hard enough to turn you. Just hard enough to mark you. To stain your scent with his, embedding himself into your very being.

You feel it first in the days after—the pull, a deep, restless ache beneath your skin, a tingling awareness that never leaves. Then, the whispers start. A voice at the edges of your mind, curling around your thoughts, dark and hungry.

You lock your doors at night. Close the windows. Try to pretend you can’t feel him watching.

But on the night of the first full moon?

You wake up to find him inside your bedroom.

He’s stretched across your bed, sprawled out like he belongs there—like he’s been waiting for you, starving for you. His shirt is gone, moonlight painting the sharp ridges of his torso, his golden eyes smoldering as they drink you in.

You don’t know how he got in.

You don’t know why you’re wet before he’s even touched you.

Not until he breathes you in. Not until his lips curve into a slow, wicked smirk.

"Mine."

The word is a growl, dark and final, reverberating through your bones.

You scramble back—wrong choice.

He moves before you can react, his body covering yours, trapping you beneath heat and muscle and something otherworldly. His nose brushes along your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste the pulse hammering there, and that’s when you realize something worse than the bite.

It wasn’t just a claim.

It was a bond.

A tether tying you to him. Forcing you to ache for him just as much as he aches for you.

And the worst part?

You want it.

Want the sharp sting of his teeth. The rough drag of his tongue. The way his hands shake as he forces himself to be gentle—to wait, to hold back, to not ruin you even though everything in him is screaming to do just that.

He does.

He devours you.

Werewolf au || Masterlist

[empath-bunny]

Tom Riddle didn’t know what to do when you didn’t show up to classes for the day. Not only that- but you don’t have the decency to at least tell him that you were not going to attend the classes that you had no problem attending for the past six years.

     So he does what any rational person does and shows up at your dorm. It was a privilege to be head girl, and you were more than happy about having your own room- and you had excitedly showed Tom your room the second you had it decorated. And being your… unofficial boyfriend and head boy, Tom supposes it was his duty- to the school- to find out why you were not reporting to classes or handling your responsibilities with the precision and efficiency that Tom had grown fond of.

     When you finally opened the door after a full minute of knocking, Tom raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. His eyes- critical as usual- sweeped up and down your figure thrice before determining that you hadn’t gotten out of bed at all during the day. “It is past dinner time. What could have possibly deterred your appetite?”

     Tom’s attempt at a joke made your jaw set. “I’m ill,” you croaked, going to shut the door.

     Tom’s foot wedged between the wood frame and thick door before it could shut with a thud. “You are not ill.” Your cheeks weren’t flushed with fever and your skin didn’t have the mild green tint it usually had when you were sick. “What’s ailing you?”

     You sighed and leaned forward a tad- enough to ease the onslaught of cramps that had been terrorizing your body for the past ten hours. “My uterus, Tom. That’s what’s ailing me,” you snipe.

     Tom’s eyes narrow. “You’re menstruating? It’s a week early,” he tells you.

     Your eyes droop with pain and sleep. “Shut the door when you’re done gawking at my miserable, ailingform,” you request weakly as you turn and limp back to your king sized bed.

     It shouldn’t have surprised you that Tom shut the door a minute later. He wasn’t really empathetic and it wasn’t his problem you were curled up in your bed, going in and out of sleep to try to handle the constant waves of pain. But at the same time… you had hoped.

     Fickle, fickle hope. You tried not to let tears well up in your eyes at your own disappointment. You cursed yourself and your uterus as you wordlessly charmed your small throw pillow to radiate warmth to place against your stomach. 

     Tears dripped from your eyes as you tried and, eventually, dozed back off into a dreamless sleep. Your arms were wrapped tightly around the charmed pillow as you clung to the warmth (pathetically wishing it was Tom you were clinging to instead of a damn pillow).

     Your door opened just when you were falling into heavy sleep. You groaned and wanted to berate whoever had disturbed your pity party. When you sat up, you ignored the shooting pain in your entire lower body and squinted at-

     “Tommy?” 

     The man grumbled at the nickname. “When have I ever left you by yourself during this time?” He closed the door with his foot because he had things that you couldn’t see in the dark lighting in his hands.

     He set a few vials of a shimmering wine red on your abnormally large nightstand- along with an actual bowl of soup, a spoon, a container of chocolate, raspberries, and cherries: your favorite snacks. “Tom…”

     Tom uncorked a vial of the swirling potion and handed it to you. “Bottoms up, darling,” he ordered as he warmed the soup up with a wordless spell. When you placed the small vial back in his large hands he handed the bowl to you. “Eat.”

     “I’m not-“

     “Do not,” Tom interrupted you, “tell me that you are not hungry. If you want to keep that pain killer down, I expect you to eat at least half of that bowl.”

      You blinked.

     Tom fussed over the state of your room as you ate. He levitated clothes nack into your dresser, blankets in their appropriate places, and tended to the variety of plants you had perched all over your room. Tom almost scoffed- you took better care of the plants then yourself.

     “I’m done,” you finally spoke up. Tom turned and strode over to you. “I- Put me down!”

     Tom carried you the short distance to the bathroom. “Do what you must, then you’re going to bed.” When you stared owlishly at him, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you so surprised that I’m taking care of what is mine? Go,” he gestured toward the bathroom and gave you the eyes.

     Tom carried you back to the bed when you had dried your hands. He slipped under the covers of your bed after you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist. “Get comfortable.”

     You placed his hand over the part of your stomach that had been giving you the most pain. His breath fanned your ear and neck as he exhaled slowly. Tom’s lips pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of your neck- so light you questioned if you had imagined it in your tired state. “Good night, Tommy.”

     “Sleep well, darling,” he murmured in reply.

[empath-bunny]

CHILLSSS, I get chills with the messages of where it was found and how we felt. AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DIDNT WANT US RO FIND THIS ONE?!?!

This reminds series reminds me of those puzzle games with the crow, they are so good and a bit creepy.

This one was so cryptic I feel like I’m buzzing. That how I felt the letter, like it was buzzing,

letter 5 — signed in your name

── . ❥ letters m.list

this letter was found at the bottom of a drawer, beneath papers you don’t remember owning. the ink is smudged. some words are missing. this letter is different. it is not written in his handwriting. it is written in yours.

—

darling,

i am not cruel.

i would never take something from you without offering something in return. i am not a thief. i do not steal. i make fair trades.

so when i needed something from you—your loyalty, your devotion, your promise to stay —i did not take it.

i simply had you sign for it.

you don’t remember writing your name, do you? but there it is, at the bottom of the page, in ink that dried long ago.

it was always going to end this way.

it is done.

yours, and now, you are mine. t.m.r.

—

something is wrong with this one. the ink feels... disturbed. ✒️ taglist? reblog & whisper his name in the tags to be notified. someone didn't want you to read this one.

[empath-bunny]

What a time to be alive.

Happy Black History Month to all and to all a good night ❤️🖤💚

[empath-bunny]

i love you. you made a mistake? i dont care i love you. you made a wrong choice? love you. you don’t think you’re good for anything? guess what you’re good for loving i love you

[empath-bunny]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Y/N’s bedroom is filled with adorable stuffed animals, but one in particular—Teddy, her favorite bear named after Theo—always seems to stir up Theo’s jealousy.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Saw a headcanon that he sleeps with a teddy bear but couldn't help but think that he likes fighting your teddys and this came to be. Fudge this was supposed to be queued for tomorrow but oh well.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

Y/N’s dorm was a cozy sanctuary, adorned with fairy lights and a collection of stuffed animals that held a special place in her heart. Every one of them had a story, most of them gifts from Theo.

Among them was a soft bunny, a plush puppy, and even a tiny elephant that she couldn't resist hugging when she needed comfort. But the most important stuffed animal of all was her teddy bear— a big, cuddly thing named "Teddy," because, of course, it reminded her of Theo.

Theo, however, wasn’t as fond of the bears as she was. He had a peculiar way of showing his jealousy toward them. Every time he came over, he’d glare suspiciously at the teddy bears, as though they were rivals for her attention. Sometimes, when he kissed her, he’d dramatically turn them around so their faces were hidden. Other times, he’d playfully punch one of them, especially Teddy, just for fun.

Y/N was sitting on her bed, flipping through a book, when she heard Theo’s footsteps approaching the room. She smiled when she saw him walk in, only for her smile to falter as she noticed him glaring at her favorite teddy bear, propped up against the pillows.

"Don’t even think about it," she warned, narrowing her eyes as she saw Theo inch closer to Teddy.

"Oh, I’m thinking about it," Theo muttered under his breath, pretending not to hear her. His eyes locked onto the bear with an almost suspicious intensity. "I hate that thing."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. "Theo, what did Teddy ever do to you? It’s just a bear."

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo poked the teddy in the chest. "You know what, I bet this bear is way better at cuddling than me. You probably hug it more than you hug me."

Y/N burst out laughing. "You’re jealous of a bear? Seriously?"

Theo’s face was a mix of amusement and frustration. "I don’t like that it’s named after me," he said, crossing his arms, still glaring at the stuffed bear. "That’s my job. You shouldn’t be giving it the same kind of attention as me."

"I named him Teddy because he’s cute, just like you," she said sweetly, shrugging. "But you’re still my number one."

Theo snorted but clearly wasn’t convinced. He turned away, pacing by the window and muttering in Italian.

"Spero che ti faccia compagnia, perché non ho intenzione di essere gentile con lui," he grumbled, ("I hope it keeps you company, because I’m not planning to be nice to him.")

Throwing a glance over his shoulder at the teddy bear as if daring it to come closer. "What a nuisance."

Y/N, overhearing everything, couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She stood up from the bed, walked over to Teddy, and cradled him in her arms with a dramatic sigh.

"Alright, Teddy, I’m sorry about Theo. He’s just a little... insecure," she said, her voice soft. She kissed the teddy bear’s head and whispered, "Sorry for him."

Theo, watching in disbelief, raised an eyebrow. "You’re seriously apologizing to a stuffed toy now?" he asked, half-smiling despite himself.

Y/N shot him a playful look. "It’s not just any stuffed toy. This is Teddy, my favorite," she said lightly, cupping his ears as though shielding him from Theo's glare. "You know, I bet if you just talked to him, you’d get along better."

"Talk to him?" Theo raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely puzzled. "What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, Teddy, I’m just a jealous boyfriend?’"

Y/N grinned. "Exactly that," she said, still holding the bear close. She even kissed Teddy on the nose. "You could learn a lot from Teddy here. He’s always so calm and collected."

Theo rolled his eyes, then stuck his tongue out at the bear. "Yeah, well, Teddy doesn’t have to deal with you tossing me aside for a stuffed toy every time you want a hug."

Y/N’s room, a cozy retreat, was filled with soft colors and twinkling lights, not to mention her cherished collection of stuffed animals.

Theo huffed, clearly not convinced. He grabbed Teddy off the bed with exaggerated drama. "Non ti sopporto," he muttered to the bear under his breath. ("I can't stand you.") He tossed the bear lightly onto the floor, unable to hide his jealousy.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, and she couldn’t help but giggle. "Theo!" she exclaimed, grabbing the bear as if it were fragile. "You can’t just throw Teddy like that! He has feelings, you know!"

Theo smirked, crossing his arms. "I don’t care about his feelings. What about my feelings? He’s always there when I kiss you, when we hang out, when I... well, when we do anything, actually." He shot a look at the bear again, almost daring it to challenge him.

Y/N grinned mischievously. "Aw, poor thing," she said, hugging Teddy close. "Okay, I’ll make it up to you," she said sweetly.

"I’m sorry that Theo’s being mean to you, Teddy," she said, kissing him on the forehead just like she did with Theo when she wanted to make him feel loved.

Theo stared in disbelief, his face twisting in mock disgust. "Are you seriously kissing it?" he asked, shuddering. "That’s so weird, Y/N."

Without missing a beat, Y/N covered Teddy’s plush ears with her hands. "Shh, I’m sorry, Teddy. I know he’s jealous of you, but it’s okay," she whispered, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You’re just a bear, after all. I’ll protect you from him."

Theo blinked. "You—you’re covering his ears?" His voice was incredulous as he leaned back against the headboard. "You really are a weirdo."

"Oh, shut up," Y/N said, rolling her eyes with a playful look. "You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d tell you to stop being so jealous of a stuffed animal!" She pulled Teddy close, kissing him again with mock seriousness.

Theo groaned, exasperated but unable to stop himself from smiling. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’m jealous of a stuffed bear. Happy now?"

[empath-bunny]

Mattheo’s girl -Theo Nott x reader/ Mattheo Riddle x reader

(Based on Rick Springfield’s song Jessie’s girl)

T.W.= smut, mdni, kind of stalkerish behavior, alcohol, cigarettes, hopefully that’s it

Mattheo is a friend

Yeah, I know, he's been a good friend of mine

But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define

Mattheo's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

Theo stayed restless all night, turning right and round in his bed, he went outside to smoke at least 10 times. Something that has been happening for quite sometime, Theo could precisely pinpoint the day he started dealing with this type of struggle, one which he couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.

Actually, he could locate the exact place and moment in which things had changed, and his world had turned upside down.

10th of October, 2 months previously

The great hall was filled with noises, glasses clinking, first years snickering, professors chatting.Theo, Enzo, Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Astoria were already at the back of the Slytherin table, discussing their usual topics always adding some new aspects to it.

The only missing piece in their habitual frame was Mattheo Riddle.

The thing about that devilish boy was that nobody ever truly knew where he was or what was he doing.

Lately though, Theo, his very best friend, had notice a shift in his behavior. He found his mate even more mysterious than usual, if that was even possible. He was sly and vague anytime someone asked him anything.

Another thing that Theo seemed to have perceived was the way he came back late in the middle of the night, or how often he just didn’t come back.

Now, everybody knew Mattheo’s nature and the tendencies he had, rumor has it he has an outstanding count, body count obviously. He never denied said rumor, actually, he bashed in the pride that came along with it.

So it should have been normal really, but he never talked about his latest hookups, topic that he was extremely open about, in the quidditch’s changing room, as a fun story time at parties, hell even in class snickering right under Snape’s nose.

He collected those anecdotes mostly to narrate them in a crowd…and now…he just disappeared and came back, not speaking a single word, not indulging in any verdict his friends tried to state.

The only thing that talked were his eyes, and an unnoticeable glistening sparkle of something that Theo had never seen in those, usually starless, eyes.

In the middle of dinner, every single noise, was silenced by a far more powerful one.

The two huge door leaves opened, behind them Mattheo, who was so tall that he shielded you from everyone’s sight.

Until you took his hand in yours and started walking beside him, nearly skipping, looking completely devoted to each other, so much that you both didn’t remotely seem to notice everyone’s stare. He finally arrived at his normal spot, bringing you along.The noises came back to life but not to everybody, no, because Theo hadn’t heard even a single sound from the moment he laid his eyes on you. Let alone he couldn’t see anybody else, or understand anything.

“Guys, I want you all to meet the apple of my eye, my sweet lovely awesome girl. This is y/n, who I’m sure you’re gonna love just as much as I do” Mattheo couldn’t understand how much this last statement would become true. While he showed you off, his eyes filled with thousands of those damn sparkles, Theo started to feel the need to hold you.

And she's watching him with those eyes

But how could he do that if you were so absorbed in Mattheo, focusing on him, and only him.

Theo never knew envy, and he never even remotely thought how gut wrenching it could feel, until that moment; that horrifying split second, that for some reason couldn’t seem to pass.

“Nice to meet you! I’m y/n, you must be Theo? I’ve heard a lot about you” you outstretched your hand towards a very unresponsive Theo.

You knew who he was. That was enough gasoline to light up an immense fire in his chest, so vast that it reached his throat, making him cough, and finally his face…painting him red.

He couldn’t tell if it was more passion or embarrassment he was enduring, but he knew he was crumbling under your beautiful gaze, nonetheless he couldn’t stop this absolutely awkward scene, because of how little and weak he felt.

He took your hand.

He looked up at you.

“I’m sorry- it- it’s just I never thought I could ever meet Mattheo’s girl…never even thought he could have just one” he whispered the last part, you seemed to have heard it though and you laughed, surprisingly.

In that instant- you drying your tears caused by the loud heartfelt laugh, him gaping at your smile, feeling an incredible uncontrollable high because he made you laugh- he knew ha was at your mercy.

Pathetic and lost in you.

Time passed and you started becoming a constant presence in the group, this was driving Theo mad, because he needed to be near you just as much as he wished to be as far away from you as possible.

He was starting to doubt his morals, because anytime he saw you, the feeling he was harboring in his chest- involuntarily- was becoming more and more voluntary. Not only this, but he cared less and less about his best friend, and the fact that you were his.

In fact Theo was convinced that if he had the chance to take you away from Mattheo he would, he desperately wanted to make you his. No matter how traitorous he’d have to be. The only thing that stopped him was you.

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

Yeah, and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

You were in love with Mattheo.

Just as much as he loved you.

Just as much as Theo loved you.

You loved him in the daylight, when anyone could see it, walking with him hand in hand, always sitting next to each other -Theo thought that at least it was better than to see you sitting ON him-

always exchanging notes, winks, flying kisses and so much more.

But he knew you loved him in the moonlight, where no one could see.

You loved him with your body.

He just knew it…

31st of October

The Slytherins were organizing a Halloween party, that was one of the most awaited every year.

You were in Mattheo’s dorm, laid down on him, facing him lazily while sharing some light kisses. You decided to go at the party in a couple’s costume, as if you hadn’t launched your relationship enough -thought Theo, who would have done anything to go with you, even if it meant dressing up in the most ridiculous way ever.

As soon as Theo entered the room, followed suit by Enzo, he felt as if the scene unfolding before him was stolen directly from his nightmares.

He craved your touch, your faint kisses, your arms around his neck and your sweet words, just as much as he needed to throw up right there and then.

Enzo peeked over Theo’s shoulder as he was standing still paralyzed by the envy tugging at his heart, and mostly clouding his mind. He gave his friend a little push, “move your perv ass Theo, I need to pee” and just then he realized Mattheo was glaring at him because of his blatant stare, so he coughed and immediately threw himself on his bed.

Mattheo turned his glare towards him again, protectively holding you twice as close as before. It was no secret that he was jealous of anyone who simply looked in your way, how could he not? You were attractive in a way that was far more than just physical, your whole self had a pull on every single person you met, you were irresistible. That’s probably why his friends, who were the most selective and elitist group of people in the whole school not only accepted you as one of their own, but also requested your presence the very few times you weren’t around.

Theo heard some of the suggestions you two were debating for the costumes, imagining him and you in each of them.

He started to feel hot as the options were becoming doubly spicier than the other.

He had to get out of there.

The party had already started when you guys showed up, you were gorgeous, dressed in a long white dress that had a pretty deep neckline, and where your heart was supposed to be there was a knife with fake blood all over. You had a white veil too, while Mattheo was wearing a tux with red handprints on the shirt.

It was sickening really, you were a bride, and he was your goddamn husband. Theo who was already holding a drink downed it as fast as he could. Trying to get that horrible image out of his mind.

As you reached the group everyone was complimenting you both, “you’re the it couple” “you guys look so good as husband and wife!!!” Pansy and Astoria yelled. They stole you away from your fake husband to dance and take far too many shots. Which still weren’t half the ones that Theo drank, in fact he could hardly stand on his two feet.

He returned to the group, and he thanked whoever was helping him from above that you weren’t there, because in the state in which he was he would have definitely poured his feelings out, and possibly even a mix of the cocktails he downed.

“Man I’ve never seen you so whipped for any girl- actually I may have never seen you even interested in any girl. Y/n has some super power” Blaise said teasingly to Mattheo, who was looking out for you from a distance just to know you were safe, and also because he was entirely too stunned by your beauty. “What can I say? I knew from the very first second I’ve looked at her that she was the one, she doesn’t remind me of any other girl that I’ve met, I don’t think I could find another one like that” “And also, look at her” Enzo chimes in raising his eyebrows, earning a push and a chuckle from Mattheo.

Theo was sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, thinking that it was better if he just kept silent and even better if he didn’t spare you one glance.

As the party went on he watched as you and Mattheo were tangled in a hot embrace while dancing, touching each other and basically humping to the rhythm of the music. He suddenly grabbed a girl that was dancing in front of him, with his eyes wide shut he started to imagine it was you dancing, it was you pressed tightly against him, it was you kissing him and it was you he was leading to his dorm.

He was about to stumble in with the mystery girl, the actress, until he heard some loud noises.

He broke away from her, telling her to stay quiet, while he slowly leaned towards the door hearing the most heavenly gasps and moans he ever heard. He turned back to the girl and while she tried to imply to go back to her dorm, he ignored her turning back once more.

Obviously she wasn’t expecting this, and left as disappointed as Theo had never left another girl before. But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear more, to fuel his fantasy, giving it something concrete, starting somewhere real to land in his most incredibly feral imaginations. He leaned a bit more on the door and it opened slightly, he was relieved that it didn’t make any noise, and most importantly he was ecstatic that he got to sneak the sight he had been dreaming about since the day he first saw you.

He didn’t care that this was clearly a violation of your privacy, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The image of you on top of his best friend, bouncing on him, small drops of sweet sweet sweat running down the valley of your perfect round tits that went up and down with your every move. He was enchanted by it all, this was something that he had dreamt and imagined countless times, but nothing compared to the real deal.

He gave up trying to not touch himself, and he started to unbutton his pants hurriedly reaching his hardened dick and as you came closer and closer to your climax so did he. He didn’t feel shame, he felt closer to her, as if his hands were the ones grabbing her, his body the one loving her, his cock the one pleasing her.

When he came undone, he stepped away from the doorway, muttering “I wish that I had Mattheo’s girl”, passing a resigned hand over his face.

The next morning he felt outrageously ill, inflamed with an unadulterated jealousy seeing your naked form, covered with the white sheets of his best friend’s bed, but mostly covered by his best friend’s embrace. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how unfair was the fact that the bastard could wake up to your beautiful goddess like body in his arms, his face next to your angelic one. He should have been the one, he should have been the one having you.

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo's girl

I wish that I had Mattheo's girl

Where can I find a woman like that?

Theo in an attempt to be rational had decided to give other girls a try, certainly he would find what he saw in you in someone else, right?

Wrong!

He couldn’t keep count of how many boring chats, meaningless one night stands, and dates he had endured trying to find someone like you.

He definitely remembered when that realization hit, that simply no one could compare.

Double date, Hogsmeade, Theo, girl n.17, Mattheo, you. Splendidly suggested by his very best mate in question.

12th of November

Just like any other Saturday a trip to Hogsmeade was planned, and the group of boys were all getting ready in their shared dorm.

“Guys which should I wear for my date with y/n? Green or grey?” Mattheo asked turning toward the others holding up two sweaters. “Dude whatever, it’s not like it’s your first date” Draco answered him annoyed with his friend that couldn’t for the life of him spend some time alone with his friends anymore, Theo couldn’t blame him though. He knew that if he ever had someone like you, he too would exploit every single second to be around you, not wasting anytime with anyone else. Exactly the opposite of what his plans were for this not-so-exciting evening. “I heard someone else here is going on a first date? Or should I say hundredth, huh lover boy?” Enzo raised his eyebrows mimicking a kiss aimed at Theo, who threw him a pillow to shut him up. “Yeah mate what’s up with this slut era of yours? You’re trying to catch an std or sum?” Blaise asked him giving him a nasty side eye “I just give the ladies some sugar, you know, there’s enough for everyone” Theo smirked, trying to conceal his cringed reaction to what he had just said. And mostly trying to hide the unbearable truth, that you were no some girl. You were Y/n, unique, funny, charming, genuine, his sweet forbidden fruit.

He tuned the guys out, not caring in the least of what they had to say about his unconventional DonGiovanni’s lifestyle, to think about you just like he always did. What brought him back to reality was the same thing that took him away in the first place. Y/n. As soon as he heard your name his head shot up, his stare that was lost on the wall in front of him focused once more on his friends.

“Huh?” “Why don’t you and your girl hang with us? Like a double date?” Mattheo suggested finally having settled on the grey sweater, “Why?” Theo let that out with a baffled expression, doubting this could ever be a good idea. He himself knew that he wouldn’t have resisted being in the same room with Mattheo always touching and kissing you. And he definitely knew that the poor girl he brought along would be discarded the very instant that his eyes found you, because wherever you were so was his undivided attention.

But then he thought again, still convinced that he could find a replacement for you, someone else that could steal his heart from you after you had done that to him yourself. He thought that the best way to know if this girl could take your place was for her to show him, with you there, that she was a fair opponent. As Mattheo rambled about giving him an example of what true love should look like and yada yada, Theo just shrugged and agreed.

In hindsight he couldn’t have been more wrong, or maybe he was right, when he had first thought that the girl would have been discarded, and that he wouldn’t have notice any other person as long as you were there.

But there he was, sat at a very small table at madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, regretting his every choice, with a very plain and awkward ravenclaw girl by his side, and in front of him the awfully cutesy couple seemingly having a staring contest.

The poor girl, Vic or something, was trying to make small talk and each time Theo just mumbled something in return. You on the other hand were always so nice and entertaining, not wanting her to feel left out you talked about every possible topic.

I'll play along with the charade

There doesn't seem to be a reason to change

You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute

I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot.

But even though he knew it didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, him being there, him being there with that girl, he decided to just keep up with whatever this seemed to be. So for the rest of the evening he tried to be as charming as one should be on a first date, subtly trying to make you laugh more than he made her, and more than Mattheo made you. Being slightly arrogant about his advanced potions’ skills, his good grades, his quidditch wins and this sort of things.

And despite his real attempt to woo the girl just for the façade’s sake, as if for some cruel divine joke he seemed to have way more chemistry with you. Indeed you laughed at his stupid jokes, you didn’t stand back on an exchange of witty and cunning banter, and at one point you even completed one of his sentences. He felt like he was going to die if he had to keep faking this misplaced interest for just one second longer, until he looked at you, really looked at you. Nearly fused with Mattheo, holding one of his hands while his other was under your sweater. Exchanging sweet nothings at the same time you were talking to him. And Theo, who wasn’t a stranger to this scene, still felt like he was about to crash out, blinded by the infamous green eyed monster, and just like on the night of Halloween he felt dirty. This was one of those epiphanic moments in which he regained lucidity, disgusted with his behavior.

He did truly feel like shit. How could he not? His best friend’s girl? It was seriously the least loyal thing that he could think of, it was the first rule of bro code. Goddamn, it was a commandment.

But he loved you. His heart ached for you, every smile you directed to him, every word, every nod, every acknowledgment from you got him completely drunk.

And in these very rare lucid moments he felt ashamed, a sinner. Besides, most of the time it all felt right, it was right to be selfish, it made sense, just like it would have if he finally told you. Because there was nothing that he wanted more than to break free from the heavy chains of this secret and confess.

In those few, clear moments, he sobered up, and kept realizing that it would have been irrational and mostly vain. Because you loved Mattheo. And he couldn’t do anything to stop that.

Cause she's watching him with those eyes

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo’s girl.

The date ended, and so did Theo’s hopes on encountering someone like you. And with them died also the dreams of a reciprocation of his feelings. Just like they did every damn time he saw your shiny eyes looking at his best mate. There was no point. He could just surrender to his impossible love and move on eventually, while having to stand there and watch every kiss, every lingering touch, every form of pda the world knew.

He found peace only at night, when he dreamt of you and him together, doing all the things he had seen you do with him.

And I'm looking in the mirror all the time

Wonderin' what she don't see in me

I've been funny, I've been cool with the lines

Ain't that the way love's supposed to be?

Tell me, where can I find a woman like that?

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo's girl

What Theo really just didn’t understand was what could he possibly have less than him, people had always told them how similar they were, did Mattheo become all of a sudden the better version? No, impossible. Theo searched for the answers in the mirror, trying to think of what he didn’t have that Matt did. Sure, he was more muscular, but that had never meant that he wasn’t just as strong.

Was his personality the problem? It couldn’t! No, because whenever you spoke to each other you seemed so at ease, you seemed like you were aware of the flick of fire that lit between the two of you.

24th of November

Theo had just come back from the library to his dorm, thinking he’d be alone, he dived on his messy unmade bed hoping to rest his poor head filled with tangled thoughts that were all screaming your name.

“Rough day?” he gasped, nearly falling out of the bed “Oh dear Merlin, you scared me” he said holding his chest with one hand, and his forehead with the other one. “Scared of a little company, aren’t you Theo?” “You don’t know just how much” he answered you completely honest, though you didn’t know he wasn’t joking.

“So w- what are you doing here? Waiting for Mattheo?” he asked, truly regretting the last part, and having to say it out loud. “Not really, but since he gave me the password to the common room, I figured why not?” “So you do spend time apart? I wasn’t aware” he faked a surprised expression and made you laugh “Well, you know sometimes it all just feels like a lot, I mean…” you tried to make sense without sounding mean “are you trying to say that he’s too much?”. “No, no please Theo, come on I didn’t mean it like that” Theo was snickering, feeling somewhat relieved that it was too much even for you. “You know what I mean, like I love him, truly” you said and Theo’s smile faltered for a beat, then came back normal as if his heart hadn’t just been wounded by what you said to him. “But we just might spend too much time together, and like I said, I love him but I love my own personal space too”. “Well i don’t blame him” he said “it’s easy to get lost in time when you’re with someone like you” he let out this risky statement testing you, trying to see your reaction. Your cheeks welcomed a burning pink tint on them, and you looked down at your feet lightly smiling “Someone like me?” you looked back up at him with a challenging glance “yeah, someone effortlessly fun” “and what else?” “I’m sorry I can’t come up with another lie” he said smirking at you. You suddenly got up to your feet, went up to him and pushed him. “Fuck off Theo” you told him laughing “Someone who can take a joke definitely” he said trying to keep his cool after feeling your touch, “Ah, ah, ah. And here I was thinking you liked me!” you feigned an insulted face “I don’t like you…” he said seriously now. You stood there still, in front of him, the heat returned to hit you in your face.

That was it. He knew and he firmly believed you knew it too. He was gonna say it, he extended his arm and gently took your hand “No, I-“ “Y/n babe are you in here?”. You took back your hand, and went to your boyfriend as fast as you could.

-Of course- Theo thought to himself, who else could interrupt his one chance to finally tell you, if not your stupid boyfriend. “Oh dude hi, kept her company I hope?” “Yeah well I was just about to leave, bye Matt” and then he looked at you, who were now in his friend’s arms, like every damn time. Your eyes met his “bye y/n”.

His cards were now on the table, and maybe for this reason or for his undeniable guilt, that was the last thing he had told you. The feelings were still there, but so were yours, even if he genuinely had believed that he saw something in your eyes in that moment.

The truth was that there was something, there were those sparkles, the same Mattheo had when watching you. You just couldn’t admit it out loud, and now Theo had started to completely ignore you, so there was no point in trying to understand what was that you felt, no because you were always Mattheo’s girl.

[empath-bunny]

This was so sweet and the joke was actually funny af I didn’t see it coming.

Thinking of a 12 y/o boy smoking sounds ridiculous to me but then I remember that some of my classmates did smoke at twelve and it’s such a sad reality for so many little babies :(

Wings and Venom; Part II

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader.

Part: Two of (Undecided Yet).

A/N: Hi, I'm so excited for this! I really, really hope you guys like it. I did go a little overboard. The word count on it is 7K words. It is however, a slow build romance. So, I hope you read through. And well, Happy Reading!

Part One

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual, the crackling fire the only sound in the dimly lit space. A few students were scattered around the room; some casually flipping through their reading material, others sloppily scribbling in their parchments, finishing their homework on the last minute. Mattheo Riddle was sprawled on one of the couches in the darker corners, fast asleep, a book over his face; a book he was supposed to read for tomorrow’s Transfiguration test. Theodore Nott sat on the edge of a plush armchair, across the fireplace, his elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames, but his mind was far away— the weight of his thoughts already suffocating him. But he could not stop thinking. His father’s letter still sat unopened in his pocket, a decision waiting to be made. But that was not true was it, Theo thought and chuckled humourlessly.

The decision was made long before he was born. There were no decisions to be made, only orders to be followed. Now that he had begun his fourth year, the letters had only increased. Theo knew what was approaching and his body shuddered involuntarily just as the thought crossed his mind. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he let his mind drift to Y/n, just like he always did. She had become his quiet refuge when the weight of the world grew too heavy.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, when he closed his eyes, he didn’t find solace in her presence. He didn’t feel the quiet reassurance that usually steadied him. Instead, all he saw was her face—hurt, crushed, slipping away from him. And just like that, the future, the one he had let himself foolishly imagine, felt futile. Theo held his face in his palm and let out a soft groan. He could feel a headache coming on.

A faint creak at the door broke his reverie. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Enzo always entered a room with an effortless confidence, his steps light yet purposeful, a stark contrast to the heavy, purposeful strides of the other Slytherin boys. Enzo had never needed to make an entrance; he was always simply… heard. Theo had always admired that about his best friend—how he could walk into any room and immediately command attention without needing to demand it. Enzo never hesitated, never doubted himself when it came to others, especially relationships. Theo, on the other hand, had built walls around himself—this thick, impenetrable walls that he’d convinced himself kept him safe. But now, those walls felt less like protection and more like a cage.

Enzo stopped when he saw Theo, his eyes narrowing slightly. With a low sigh, he walked towards his best friend and dropped into the chair across from him, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It was our third year here, at Hogwarts,” Enzo began, lightly. Theo gave him a sharp glance, the "Not now" look flashing in his eyes, but Enzo didn’t flinch. He only kept on smiling, that knowing glint in his eye suggesting he knew something Theo didn’t.

Maybe he did. With Enzo, you never know. While Theo was always the most observant out of all the Slytherin boys, Enzo was always the most perceptive.

"When I first saw Y/n, I thought she was just like every Ravenclaw—a little too wrapped up in her books, a little too perfect, like most of them. But she wasn’t like most other people I’d met, not at all. It didn’t take long to see that she had something… something real about her, even at our age. She’s not just clever or poised. She’s got this way of making people feel like they matter. Even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Theo looked up at him, his brow furrowing slightly, unsure where this conversation was headed.

“There was this one day," Enzo continued, his eyes distant now, as though lost in the memory. "you and I were in the library. We’d been struggling with this Herbology assignment—and no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get it right. And the assignment was due the next morning. We were just about to give up, you remember? And then Y/n... she came over. Just slid her notes in front of you without saying a word.” Enzo paused, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “She didn’t even ask us if we needed help. She just... knew. And there you were, looking at her like she had brought down the stars and not the notes to ‘The Role of Puffapods in Magical Botany’. She smiled at you, then at me and left just as quick as she’d come. You smiled through that entire week and some more, after that day.”

Theo’s chest tightened, a strange ache building as he listened. He could remember it like it was yesterday—you, effortlessly kind in the way only you knew how.

Enzo shifted slightly, looking knowingly at Theo before continuing again. “You had called her a sweetheart that day, albeit slowly and to me but some people in the library had overheard. The big, grumpy Slytherin calling someone a sweetheart, was so shocking to them, that word started going around and before long, she got nicknamed the ‘Ravenclaw Sweetheart’. I don’t even think she knows, till date, that it was you who had started it” Enzo chuckled softly.

“Remember that time in our second year, when Mr. Grumpy over here would not talk to us for a week and just snap at anybody who would try to talk to him?”

Theo snapped his head to the right to see Mattheo sliding onto the chair next to him. He had woken up from his nap, his book forgotten in a corner.

“Don’t you have a test you didn’t study for?” Theo rolled his eyes at him.

“Don’t you have a girl you didn’t confess to, whom you have liked for a shameful number of years now?” Mattheo counters before going back to whatever he was saying, “Anyway, he comes back one evening, happy and in a good mood, smiling for maybe the first time. He would not tell us what had happened that evening and he still won’t but we saw him stare at Y/n like a lovesick puppy from the next day and we knew it had something to do with her.”

“There was no lovesick look OR a puppy involved.” Theo defended himself rather poorly.

Enzo smiled and leaned forward, his eyes locking with Theo’s. “I’ve seen you, Theo. I’ve seen how you look at her, mate. Maybe it’s time you tell her how you feel?”

Theo swallowed before whispering, his voice barely audible “I messed up this time. I said some things I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how to fix this,”

“I would say to forget this and get some good pu-” Mattheo started before wandering off when Theo glares at him. “I mean, get some good company. But, I don’t think that’s what you want. So, why don’t you get out of here and do the thing that you actually do want?”

Theo’s chest tightened, the internal conflict pressing down on him like a physical weight. He stood up abruptly, his mind a blur of fear and determination. He wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but his friends were right—he had to do something.

Without saying another word, he walked out of the common room, heading straight for the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw Tower. His heart hammered in his chest as he walked through the corridors, every step feeling heavier than the last. But he knew, deep down, that this was the only way forward.

.

.

.

From her spot by the window in the Ravenclaw common room, Elena watched with sharp, curious eyes as Theodore Nott slipped into their common room, the highest tower of the castle, behind a Prefect. Elena frowned, her quill pausing mid-sentence. What was he doing here? Is he actually here to hook up with someone else after what went down with Y/n the other day? Where DO men get such audacity!? Her internal monologue took a pause when she saw him looking around.

Her eyes followed him as he approached the Ravenclaw girl, a fifth-year who was already blushing furiously at the sight of him. Seriously? Apparently, even a senior was not immune to the charms of Theodore Nott. Elena scoffed, internally. She couldn't hear their conversation very clearly, but it was apparent that Nott was in control of it. His tone was low and smooth, his body language calm yet deliberate. The girl giggled, entirely too dazzled to notice when Nott's sharp eyes flicked to the parchment she was holding. A subtle charm later, and he had the room number he wanted, all without ever mentioning who he was asking about.

Elena's lips tightened as she leaned back, watching the Slytherin boy's retreating figure. If he wanted to, he could’ve guessed the answer to the riddle guarding their tower entrance—someone like him could have solved it in minutes, maybe not as quickly as other Ravenclaws but Elena was sure that he could have. But that wasn’t his goal, she observed. He wanted to apologise. And he wanted to do it quickly.

Elena's gaze lingered on him as he looked around, trying to figure out what was probably their dorm number. "What are you up to, Theo Nott?" she murmured to herself, but a faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips this time.

With a smirk, Elena watched as Theo bolted up their flight of stairs, his usually composed demeanour replaced with an almost frantic energy. Her smirk grew wider—what a sight to see the cool, brooding Slytherin look so... out of place.

But then he came back down. Her smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a furrowed brow. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at him from her spot.

Just as she cursed his apparent retreat, he darted up the stairs again. Her smile crept back as she leaned forward, intrigued. He was persistent, she’d give him that. With an approving nod, Elena decided she’d seen enough entertainment for the night and turned back to her book.

Until she heard the footsteps again.

Her head snapped up, and there he was—coming back down for a second time. She groaned in exasperation, slamming her book shut and preparing to march up the stairs herself to put an end to this ridiculous display.

But before she could move, he sprinted up again, this time two steps at a time, his determination practically radiating off of him. Elena arched an eyebrow as she heard him knock, finally.

Leaning back into her chair with an amused grin, she muttered to herself, “Well, at least cardio isn’t a problem for him. Good for Y/n.”

.

.

.

You had just set your quill down, your eyes heavy from hours of Transfiguration notes swirling through your mind. Tomorrow’s test loomed over you, but sleep was beckoning. You were ready to call it a night when an unexpected knock shattered the quiet.

You jolted upright, startled. "Elena?" You muttered aloud. It didn’t make sense—Elena had stationed herself in the common room, a rule you'd both established long ago after realizing that your joint study sessions always dissolved into fits of laughter and gossip. But why would Elena be knocking?

Your brow furrowed as you crossed the room and opened the door, only to find... a back? Huh? Albeit a tall, well-built back. And clad in a Slytherin uniform too?

“What…?” you whispered, utterly baffled. Was Elena studying Transfiguration with practicality now, as a living, breathing subject?

You opened your mouth to speak something, anything, but before you could, the figure turned, and you froze. It wasn’t just anyone—it was Theodore Nott. Why would he be here?

Your breath hitched the moment your eyes met his. For a second, the world tilted—just slightly—as if your mind needed time to catch up with what you were seeing. He stood there, ruffled hair falling over his forehead like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just enough to make your mouth go dry. His sharp jawline caught the dim light, and you hated the way your gaze lingered, tracing the curve of it down to the way his throat bobbed when he exhaled.

Heat curled low in your stomach, unexpected but not so unwelcome.

But then the shock hit just as hard, slicing through the moment like a blade. Your heart slammed against your ribs, torn between disbelief and something far more dangerous. “Um, Elena?” you managed, voice uneven, barely above a whisper.

Theo turned an even deeper shade of pink than the one he was already sporting. He started pawing at his face, his cheeks flushed, even more nervous now, betrayed by the way he rubbed his jawline proving just out of his element he was. He shifted awkwardly under your gaze.

“I, uh… I don’t think so?” he replied, his voice uncertain, and somehow just as confused as you felt. For a minute, the two of you simply stared at each other. He is here. He is actually here. Your senses completely abandon you as you keep staring at him, not able to say anything.

Theo stood there too, every nerve alight, his usual calm unravelling as he searched for words that didn’t sound hollow. His hands twitched at his sides—he wasn’t used to this, to standing in the doorway of someone who wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

“I…” he started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the floor before daring to meet yours. “I owe you an apology.”

You cross your arms, your stance guarded yet you can feel the vulnerability seeping through. You compose yourself and don't say anything, simply wait. The silence stretched, and he felt it like a rope tightening around his throat.

Theo inhaled sharply, forcing himself to start speaking. “What I said yesterday—it was…” He faltered, clenching his jaw before continuing. “It was disgusting. And it’s not who I am. Not who I want to be. It wasn’t even about you—it was about me. About everything else. And that doesn’t make it better, I know. But I need you to know that I don’t believe in any of that pureblood nonsense.”

His words tumbled out, faster now, like he was afraid they’d stop coming if he paused too long. “I’ve spent my whole life being taught things I don’t believe in, being moulded into someone I don’t want to be. But... you know that already." He states but he sounds unsure. He doubts if you even remember. It happened so long ago. But of course, you remember. But you don't interrupt him. You simply nod, softly. "And yesterday, I was angry, and I let myself become that person—the one I hate the most. I said something cruel because I thought it would hurt less if I pushed you away first.”

He stepped closer, his hands now curled into fists at his sides, desperate to keep himself grounded. “But I was wrong. It didn’t hurt less—it hurt more. Because…” His voice dropped, and for a moment, he looked almost broken. “Because I hurt the one person who doesn’t see me as a name, a title, or a legacy. You don’t look at me with fear, or that hollow, brainwashed respect because I’m the heir to some ancient, power-starved bloodline. You don’t reduce me to a face, a presence, something pretty to look at and nothing more. With you, I feel like I can be something different—someone better. You make me feel like there’s more to me than the weight of my name, like I could be more than what I’ve been taught to be. And I ruined that. I destroyed something... good with one stupid, careless moment.”

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to finish. “I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. We’ve never been friends—not really. But just know that I’ve always wanted to be. I just… I always knew you were too good for me. I knew that from the start. But I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—let things end like this. You deserve better than that. You’ve always deserved better."

Theo’s voice grew quieter, softer, like the weight of his own words was crushing him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For all of it. For the words, for the hurt… for making you think, even for a second, that you’re not extraordinary.”

He finally fell silent, his breathing uneven as he stood there for another second, before he turned to leave again. You simply stood there, frozen, dumbfounded and speechless, the weight of his confession pressing down on you.

This is the first time he'd spoken so much to you. And everything carried so much depth that for a moment, you were blown away by the genuineness of his words and the sincerity of his tone. Warmth seeped into your cheeks and stomach at his words. It’s funny how what you wanted to hear for so long, can leave you frozen when it actually happens. You wanted to scream that you forgive him. But somehow, you just remained rooted to your place. Theo obviously took it as a rejection. Not wanting to bother you anymore, he hastily turned around and starts descending the stairs. Finally, you manage to whisper, almost unsure, “Theodo—”

He stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around. His voice, low and strained, cuts through the thick silence. “Theo. It’s Theo.”

And then, before you can gather your thoughts or summon a response, he’s gone, leaving you rooted to the spot, the echo of his words and the ache they carried lingering in the room like a ghost.

.

.

.

Elena slipped into the room an hour later, her footsteps soft but purposeful. “Y/n, are you awake?” she whispered into the dimly lit space.

You stayed silent, lying still under the covers. You weren’t in the mood to talk. The weight of the day hung heavy on your chest, and the words Theo had spoken to you played on repeat in your head like a broken record.

"I’ve spent my whole life being taught things I don’t believe in, being moulded into someone I don’t want to be. But you know that already."

And you did. The memory lingered now, vivid and raw, as you lay in bed. Back then, you hadn’t known what to make of him. You’d dismissed it as a moment of weakness from someone who was usually so composed and untouchable. Because he had dismissed it first. But now, with the weight of his confession tonight, it all began to make sense.

Your mind drifted back to your second year, after the chaos with the basilisk and the haunting stillness of your best friend frozen in Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary last week. Everything had felt overwhelming, suffocating, so you’d done the only thing you could think of: you’d escaped to the Astronomy Tower.

You hadn’t expected to find anyone there, but as you stepped into the cold night air, your gaze landed on a boy sitting in the corner, staring down at something in his hand. It took you a moment to realize what it was—a cigarette.

“Seriously?” you had deadpanned, unable to keep the judgment out of your voice. “Is Charms really stressing you out that much that a second-year needs that?”

His head snapped up at your words, and for a brief moment, you thought he might lash out or throw some snarky comment your way. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at you with an odd vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“It’s not Charms,” he muttered after a long pause. His voice was quiet, barely audible over the wind. “It’s… my charming Father.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at him, unsure of what to say. He looked just as shocked as you felt, like he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted that to you.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, taking a cautious step closer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. He tossed the cigarette aside, letting it roll across the floor. “Forget I said anything.”

But you didn’t move. Something about the way he said it—the bitterness, the exhaustion—it pulled at you.

“Theo,” you said gently, sitting down a few feet away from him. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell me, but… I’m here. If you want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared out at the night sky, his jaw tight. But then, to your surprise, he started to speak.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he began, his voice hollow, “to feel like your whole life has already been decided for you?"

"Um, well. My parents are professors. And while they've been very supportive of the path I've paved for myself, I don't think a witch with a waving wand and a broomstick was top of their "Elder daughter's Career To-do List". Minus the crooked witch hat, obviously." You joke, with a serious tone.

"Obviously" he agrees and there it was. The first genuine smile you'd seen Theo crack in the two years you'd known him.

“My father,” he continued after a while, his tone bitter, “is one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world. Or so he likes to think. He has this… vision of who I’m supposed to be. What I’m supposed to believe. And if I don’t live up to it, if I don’t… fit into the mould he’s made for me…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“What happens if you don’t?” you asked carefully.

He let out a humourless laugh. “Let’s just say disappointment doesn’t sit well with him.”

You didn’t know what to say. The pain in his voice, the weight he was carrying—it was so much heavier than you had expected.

“I don’t want to be like him,” Theo said quietly, but the resignation and hurt was so deep in his voice that you wanted to reach out and give him a hug. But you remained seated and let him continue. “But sometimes… I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“Theo," you murmured, leaning forward just slightly, "your father made his choices. And you get to make yours." "You are not him. You never were. And the fact that you’re even afraid of becoming him? That means you never will." You said with surprising conviction in your voice.

Theo stared at you, his gaze intense, almost like he was trying to see through you. His eyes softened, but there was something else there—a question, a hesitation. Finally, his lips parted, and in a voice much quieter than before, he asked, “How do you know that?”

You met his gaze firmly. “Because I believe it.”

The silence lingered, the weight of his words still hanging in the air. You could feel the tension between you, but you didn’t want to just sit in it. There was more you needed to say, more you needed to get off your chest.

“So,” he began softly, cutting through the silence. “Why are you here? They say only lost souls seek the stars, finding quiet refuge in them. Do you know why?”

You shook your head.

He continued, “Because it’s only the stars that can silently promise you’re not alone. There are so many stars in the universe, all so far apart from each other, never knowing there’s one just like them, drifting through their lives.”

He looked at you sheepishly when he finished, “Too cheesy?” He blushed.

“Just enough.” You promised softly.

Theo looked at you again, brows raised, as if silently saying that you had the floor.

“I’ve been drowning… especially this year,” you exhaled, shaking your head. “Everything just feels so… heavy. I always loved reading and studying. It was my escape, my refuge. But now, it’s like everyone expects so much from me—teachers, friends, people I barely know—and there’s this constant pressure, this anxiety, weighing me down. I am so afraid that studying one day will feel like a chore instead of something I enjoy. And I... I can’t stop my mind from overthinking every little thing, every action, every detail. At the end of the day, I don’t even think anyone others would notice or care to check how I’m doing. And honestly? I don’t even know if I have the energy to care anymore and I don’t want to be that person.”

Theo didn’t interrupt, didn’t say a word. He just watched you, his expression softening with each word you spoke.

“And you know what’s worse?” you continued, voice quieter now. “It’s like I’m constantly pretending. I’m pretending I can keep up, pretending I don’t feel completely out of place sometimes. Pretending I’m okay. And I think that’s what everyone else does too. We all just put on these masks, hoping no one notices that we’re all falling apart inside.”

Theo was silent for a moment, processing your words, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like someone understood, like your frustrations weren’t just falling on deaf ears.

He finally spoke, his voice surprisingly steady. “That’s… a lot to carry.” You simply nod.

"I can’t fix it for you," he said, his tone soft but firm, “but... I’m here. If you need someone to listen. And, maybe... it’s okay to not always have everything figured out. You don’t have to pretend. Sometimes, just taking things one step at a time helps—focus on what you can control, and let the rest fall away. You don’t owe anyone more than that. The only person you owe something to, is yourself and you owe it to yourself to give yourself the space you are out here, creating for others, if not more.”

He hesitated for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. “I know it’s hard, but… trying to do it all at once? It’s never going to work. You’re allowed to have limits, to need a break. Don’t be afraid to give yourself one. It’s not weakness. It’s surviving. Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who know when to step back, take a breath, and just... exist for a little while.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the tension in your chest start to loosen. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Neither of you knew what else to say, so you just stayed, offering each other comfort and company instead of empty reassurances.

Eventually, he stood up, brushing off his robes. “Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

You nodded. “You don't need to say that. Sorry you couldn’t use that cigarette.” You smiled.

“It’s fine. I found something better.” He smiled back.

He hesitated—just for a moment—like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. And then, without another glance, he turned and walked away, leaving you there with the lingering weight of a conversation that felt far bigger than either of you had realized.

That night, when you returned to your dorm, you found Elena sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading. You barely had time to set your things down and flung yourself down on the bed before the words tumbled out of you.

"I think I met someone today."

Elena looked up, intrigued. “Oh?”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek before sitting down across from her. “Not like that,” you clarified quickly. “I just… I don’t know. He’s different. He’s quiet but not in an empty way—more like there’s too much in his head.

Elena tilted her head, considering. "That’s oddly poetic."

You sighed, letting your head drop onto your pillow. "He listens," you murmured, mostly to yourself. "Like, really listens. And I don’t think a lot of people do that—not the way he does."

Elena smiled warmly. "You sound impressed."

You let out a soft laugh. "Maybe I am," you admitted. "I just feel like—like maybe we could be friends. Maybe we should be."

It had felt like a certainty at the time. A quiet, unshakable belief that somehow, in some way, your lives were meant to overlap.

But looking back now? You almost laughed at how naive you had been.

You never became friends. Not really. Instead, you spent years standing at the edges of each other’s lives, always near enough to feel the pull but never close enough to bridge the gap. Like two stars drifting in the vastness of space—so close, yet so far apart. There were stolen glances, almost-conversations, unspoken words that hung in the air between you like ghosts. And when the distance between you started to stretch wider, when the quiet understanding turned into quiet avoidance, neither of you did anything, simply watched as time faded into nothingness… Just like the stars, shining in the dark, but never reaching each other. And that...

It hurt.

And you never understood why. Or maybe you did. Maybe you had always known.

You snapped back to reality, the remnants of the memory fading as quickly as they had appeared. Theo had been distant again lately, his mind clearly elsewhere, the bags under his eyes heavier. What had his father done this time to hurt him? He’d said something earlier, hadn’t he? Something that had made Theo’s eyes cloud over with that familiar, unreadable expression. But just as you were about to pull at the threads of the conversation today, trying to piece it together, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you. Sleep crept in, stealing your thoughts before you could recall the words that had troubled him so.

.

.

.

Exhausted, you hauled your book bag onto your shoulder, the familiar ache in your muscles reminding you just how long the day had been. The Transfiguration test had gone well—but Merlin, it had been draining. And now, your feet were dragging you to the last class of the day: Binns’ History of Magic. The idea of sitting through one of his monotonous lectures made you want to cry.

Still, as you approached the classroom, the resolve you’d built overnight kicked in. Enough avoiding, enough pretending. It was time to face the snake head-on. No more skirting around Theo Nott.

When you stepped into the room, the usual chatter greeted you. Theo was at his usual spot in the back corner, Mattheo to his left. Blaise and Enzo were sitting behind them, followed by the rest of their Slytherin entourage. Mattheo was laughing at something Blaise had said, and Blaise was already grinning like he’d won some unspoken challenge. Typical. They were like a pack of wolves, basking in their effortless charm and superiority.

Your eyes briefly flickered to Theo. He wasn’t laughing, but his lips curved faintly at the edges, like he was amused by the chaos around him. Looking back on it now, you had hardly ever seen him laughing out loud. Coming to the present, his sharp profile caught the dim lighting of the classroom, and it took your breath away, how effortlessly good he looked, sitting there like he didn’t have a care in the world. But you’d also seen the flicker of exhaustion in his eyes yesterday. He wasn’t as unshaken as he wanted people to think.

Taking a deep breath, you walked straight toward them, your steps confident despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The moment you reached their table, you placed a hand firmly on the desk in front of Mattheo, who was turned on his back, looking behind him, mid-conversation with Blaise. He didn’t notice you at first, too caught up in whatever joke Blaise had cracked. But Blaise’s voice suddenly trailed off when he saw you, his eyes widening slightly before he elbowed Enzo. Enzo was nose deep in a novel and did a literal double take when he saw you. He quickly regained himself and eyed Mattheo to stop. Mattheo however, was too engrossed in the conversation to notice anything around him. Without a warning, Enzo reached forward and hit Mattheo on the head.

“Oi, what the—” Mattheo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he turned, only to freeze when he saw you. Then, that flirty grin of his spread across his face like clockwork. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Ravenclaw sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Hi, princess.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Theo go rigid, his gaze narrowing. The room seemed to hush slightly, like everyone was waiting to see what you’d do.

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. Gods, where did that nickname even come from?

A surprised look crossed Mattheo’s face before his grin widened, clearly enjoying the attention. “Whatever you say, princess. Now, what can I do YOU for... I mean- what can I do for youu-uuuaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh" He was quickly cut off by a rather stone faced Theo who had very subtly stepped on Mattheo's feet.

Quickly composing himself, Mattheo gets back to you. "I truly meant how can I help you? Advice? A good joke? Maybe a—”

“You can’t help me,” you interrupted coolly. “But you can move. Why don’t you go sit with Pansy? She looks a little lonely back there. Go.”

“Blimey, sunshine,” Mattheo groaned dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “What did I do to deserve this heat?”

Before you could reply, there was a sudden shove from his right. Mattheo stumbled slightly, as Theo gave him a sharp nudge.

“Get up, Mattheo,” Theo said quietly, his voice calm but firm.

Mattheo raised his hands in surrender, though the teasing smirk never left his face. “Alright, alright, don’t hex me, mate.” With a mock bow in your direction, he stepped aside, limping a little and clutching his right shoulder. But instead of joining Pansy, he shoved Blaise over and squeezed into the two-person desk with him and Enzo. The three of them now stared at you with different expressions. Mattheo had his signature smirk on, Enzo was giving you a knowing smile and Blaise looked serious, as if a little apprehensive of what was going on. But three of them had one common look, an expression that was practically screaming, Oh, this is gonna be interesting.

You ignored them, slipping into the seat beside Theo and dropping your book bag onto the desk. Professor Binns began his lecture in his usual monotone drawl—something about goblin rebellions, though you weren’t really listening.

From further up the room, you caught a flash of movement—Elena. She turned in her seat, just enough to give you a cheeky wink before turning back to her notes. You’d spent a good hour talking with her this morning, hashing out how to handle this; the situation, your emotions. And now, here you were. No more running. No more avoiding.

You sat stiffly at first, hyper-aware of Theo’s presence beside you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed how he kept his gaze fixed forward, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, so subtle you nearly missed it, he shifted ever so slightly—a millimetre closer to you.

The gesture was so small, so unnoticeable to anyone else, but it made your heart flutter and you let yourself relax a little more.

You tried, really tried, to focus on the lesson, but it was impossible. Every so often, your gaze would flicker to him out of the corner of your eye—still, but with an edge to his presence that felt almost magnetic. It was a quiet intensity, a presence that filled the space between you both without a single word spoken.

The air felt heavier, thick with unspoken things, and the all-too-familiar emotions after that night on the Astronomy Tower in second year began to creep back. What if this too remains an unspoken tremor between you two? What if it lingers like a forgotten promise that neither of you dares to claim? It’s not just the pull, the quiet magnetism, but the fear that this—whatever it was—might never come to the surface. That it might always remain a delicate undercurrent, impossible to name or tame, just like it had that night.

And there you were, sitting right next to him, feeling all of it again—the anxiety coming back, the weight, the space, the distance between you that somehow felt both too close and impossibly far.

And then suddenly, in the quiet stillness that seemed to settle over you both, Theo's voice broke through the silence. He leaned just a bit closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. A spark shot through you, and suddenly, your stomach was filled with those damn butterflies. You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you, so close, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your body instinctively angled itself towards him, and you couldn’t help but notice how your head nearly brushed against his as he leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver racing down your spine, and your pulse quickened, like it could hear the sudden rush of your heart.

"Do you know," Theo whispered, his voice a low murmur, sending a tingle across your skin, "why Binns can never tell a good joke?"

You looked up at him, your gaze caught somewhere between confusion and something else entirely, trying desperately not to focus on how dangerously close his lips hovered over yours. You could feel the heat of him just inches away, and it was so tempting to close that gap, to lean in just a little—no. You quickly shook the thought off, attempting to focus on the moment. "No, why?"

Theo shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips twitching into that infuriatingly confident smirk you’d come to recognize. “Because he’s dead on delivery.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected humour, surprised by the sheer audacity of his words. For a moment, the tension shifted, and without warning, you snorted. The sound escaped you before you could stop it, and despite the intensity of the atmosphere, you couldn't help it. The way he said it—so nonchalantly—was just absurd enough to break through.

And then, almost without realizing it, you found yourself on the verge of laughing out loud.

It would have been a full-on laugh if not for the fact that Professor Binns was still droning on in his usual monotone, entirely oblivious to the small, chaotic moment unfolding just a few desks away. His lecture about goblin rebellions continued, his ghostly figure as unchanging as always. He might as well have been reading the room with zero interest—completely missing the small flicker of laughter that now danced between you and Theo.

You swallowed your laugh, but the smile lingered, and for a moment, it felt as though the world outside of that classroom had stopped moving. Theo's smirk deepened, his eyes meeting yours, the unspoken connection hanging between you both like an electric charge. You glanced at him again, a soft smile playing on your lips, but this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t want to.

Theo didn’t make any effort to move, to shift, to break the moment. Neither did you. You both remained there, shoulder to shoulder, and all the remaining tension dissipated from your shoulders as you relaxed against him. The proximity was not familiar but comforting, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to run from it.

The silence stretched on, until suddenly, Mattheo's voice pierced through the calm. “Um, I don’t think I can see the board with these two people in front of me. Maybe they should move apart or something like... Owww—Come on, mate!”

Enzo's slap followed, and the noise was enough to make you glance back at the two of them. Mattheo was rubbing his arm, clearly irritated, while Enzo just shot you a sheepish look. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little more hopeful, a little less guarded.

It felt like the whole room was waiting for something to shift, but maybe, just maybe, this time, the shift had already happened.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, as you glanced back at Theo—what even happens when stars collide?

.

.

.

Taglist: @nottinmyheart @whosyourgnomie

Thank you for all the love and support, you guys. I hope you like it <3

[empath-bunny]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - 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.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - This scene literally played out in my head on repeat, That never happens. Kind of proud to be honest.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

Marvolo barely had time to react before the magic swallowed him whole. The world blurred, his stomach twisted, and he felt himself being pulled through time once more—only this time, it was different.

He was being dragged farther, deeper, past the years he had known, past even the moment his parents had first met.

And then—just like that—it stopped.

His feet hit the cold stone floor of Hogwarts, and he stumbled, barely catching himself against the rough wall of a dimly lit corridor. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself as he glanced around.

The castle felt… different. The air was heavier, charged with something unfamiliar, something untouched by the years he had known.

He wasn’t just in the past.

He was far, far earlier than before.

A sudden breathless sound made him freeze.

Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward, peering through the small crack in a door left ajar. Inside, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, was a boy no older than twelve, dressed in the crisp Hogwarts uniform of Slytherin.

Marvolo’s breath hitched.

His father.

Tom Riddle stood completely still, his usually composed features betraying something foreign—shock. His hands hung stiff at his sides, his dark eyes wide, locked onto something before him.

The Mirror of Erised.

Marvolo swallowed hard, following his father’s gaze.

The reflection staring back at Tom was not that of a lonely second-year boy. It was something far different.

Something unexpected.

A man stood in the mirror—tall, powerful, and unmistakably older. Marvolo recognized him instantly. The version of Tom Riddle he had always known.

But it wasn’t just him.

Behind him stood three figures. Mattheo, his usual smirk laced with something protective. Delphini, poised and graceful, her sharp eyes watchful. And in front of them all—standing closest to his father—was himself.

Or rather, a much younger version of himself.

Tom inched forward, his breathing uneven, his fingers twitching at his sides. He had expected power. Victory. Control. He had expected to see himself ruling, standing above the world that had tried to shackle him.

Instead, he saw… them.

And then, movement.

A woman entered the mirror’s reflection, her presence shifting everything.

Y/N.

Tom’s breath caught as she stepped beside his future self, placing a hand on his shoulder before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It was a soft, fleeting touch, but it sent a shockwave through him.

He almost choked.

Y/N.

He had known her since his first year. They had studied together, debated, challenged each other, but never—never—had he considered this.

Why?

Why was this what he desired most?

This wasn’t the future. The Mirror of Erised did not show the future. It revealed the deepest, most desperate desires of one’s soul.

His hands clenched.

This couldn’t be real.

It wasn’t real.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom surged forward, fury and disbelief twisting inside him. Before he could stop himself, his fist crashed against the mirror.

Glass shattered.

Fragments rained to the floor, catching the candlelight as they scattered.

Tom’s chest heaved. His hands trembled. But as the last shards settled, something caught his eye.

A single piece of the mirror remained unbroken, hanging in the twisted frame.

And in it—

The boy.

The young child who had been in the mirror.

Only now, he wasn’t a reflection.

He was behind him.

A cold shiver ran down Tom’s spine. Slowly, he turned.

And there, standing in the flickering light of the broken mirror, was Marvolo.

Frozen.

Staring at him, his own expression a perfect reflection of Tom’s shock.

For a long, suffocating moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, before Marvolo could stop himself—before he could even think—one word slipped past his lips.

A quiet, shaken whisper.

“Dad?”

Tom felt the world tilt.

His mind reeled, his breath caught in his throat, and every thought he had ever known shattered like the glass at his feet.

Because the boy standing before him—the one who had just called him Dad—was real.

[empath-bunny]

Tom? Riddle? My Lord?

the unsent letters of tom riddle

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

some love letters are written with ink. some are written with blood. some should never be read at all.

these are the ones that never reached their intended recipient. or perhaps, the recipient was never meant to survive them.

a valentine’s collection. a love that was never safe.

—

📜 letter i: "you were mine before you knew it"

📜 letter ii: "a spell in ink and blood"

📜 letter iii: "i cursed the ones who touched you"

📜 letter iv: "no one will ever love you like this" → february 9th

📜 letter v: "signed in your name" → february 11th

📜 letter vi: "we are inevitable" → february 13th

—

new letters will appear every few nights. you shouldn’t read them. you will anyway.

✒️ taglist? reblog & whisper his name in the tags to be notified. he will hear you.

(if you’re confused: reblog this post and whisper his name “Tom? Riddle? My Lord?” in the tags—i’ll take that as a sign you want to be tagged in future letters. if you don’t, well... let’s just say he’ll still find you.)

more. tag list.

[empath-bunny]

[empath-bunny]

it was supposed to be romantic. he had the ring, had the speech, had the whole damn thing planned out. but rafe fucking cameron was never the type to follow some perfect, picturesque moment. no, he was all rough edges, all snarled desperation masked as confidence, and when he asked you to marry him, it wasn’t some soft, teary-eyed question. it was a demand, a statement, a claim.

"marry me." the words weren’t tentative. they weren’t gentle. his voice was raw, like he’d been holding them back for too long, like they burned coming out. you barely had time to blink before he was gripping your face, thumb pressing into the hinge of your jaw, making sure you were looking right at him. "say yes. say it now."

his breath was hot, heavy, his pupils blown wide like he was high off this moment, high off you. and fuck, you should’ve made him wait, should’ve drawn it out just to see him squirm, but there was something in his eyes—something dangerous, something all-consuming—that had you whispering, "yes."

that was all it took. then his mouth was on you, bruising, teeth scraping against your lips like he was trying to mark the word into your skin. his hands were everywhere at once, gripping, claiming, pulling. the ring was forgotten, left somewhere in the rush as he backed you into the nearest wall, a low growl tearing from his throat as his hands found the hem of your dress and yanked it up.

"mine," he muttered, voice thick with something primal, something wrecked. his fingers dragged up your thigh, nails biting into soft flesh, before he was shoving your panties aside like they were in his way—which they were. everything was. everything but you, bared and breathless and his.

his cock was already hard, pressing into your stomach, and he didn’t waste time. rafe wasn’t the kind of man to wait, especially not now, not when you’d just given him exactly what he wanted. he lifted you with ease, hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open as he lined himself up.

and then he was inside, thick and unforgiving, shoving into you in one brutal thrust that had your head slamming back against the wall. "fuck—rafe—"

"you’re gonna be my wife," he growled, pulling back just to slam into you again, making your nails dig into his shoulders. "say it."

"i’m—i’m gonna be your wife," you choked out, every word punched out of you with every relentless thrust.

he groaned, burying his face in your neck, breath ragged as he fucked you harder, deeper. "goddamn right you are." his teeth found your skin, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp, make you feel him long after this was over. "gonna put a ring on you. put a baby in you. you’re never fucking leaving me."

it should’ve scared you. the intensity, the possessiveness dripping from every syllable. but it didn’t. it just made you clench tighter around him, made your body light up with heat. rafe felt it, felt the way you reacted to his words, and he groaned, hips stuttering as he fucked you harder, faster, chasing the inevitable.

when he came, it was with a low, broken moan, spilling into you like he was already trying to make good on that promise. his grip on you was ironclad, arms locked around you as he pressed his forehead against yours, panting, sweat-slicked and wrecked and yours.

"forever," he whispered, softer now, almost reverent, pressing a kiss to your swollen lips.

and you knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that forever with rafe cameron was going to ruin you.

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[empath-bunny]

i’m like “i don’t give a fuck” & then have an anxiety attack

[empath-bunny]

In my first year university course there was a class I remember as being mandatory (at least for English majors) about fallacies and biases in writing. And this prof was all about reading the whole article before you formed your argument. That was his whole thing. You know measure twice cut once he was read twice respond once. He stressed this so much that on our final exam (which was two long form essay questions and a few short answer questions) that I decided to read the WHOLE exam booklet before I grabbed my pen.

Turns out that is what he wanted. The final page, the final question, informed the student that if they wrote 1. Their name, 2. Their student number 3. Their favourite fallacy, and wait for 30 minutes so they don't arouse suspicion, you will literally be given 100 percent for the exam WORTH 40 PERCENT OF YOUR GRADE.

I think about it to this day. The prof literally saw the "reading comprehension on this site is piss poor" and said I can fix them

[empath-bunny]

I spend too much time thinking about how in the only thing he’s ever directed, Chris Evans, the guy known for his muscles, and action franchises like Captain America and the Fantastic Four and other very dude-bro characters, and his love of sports and Boston and other kinda cliched masculine things, chose a love story. He chose a movie where he’d play a sweet, sensitive, hopeless romantic, he chose to have Nick play the trumpet instead of the guitar because he decided it was more romantic for a character to commit themselves to an unpopular instrument, he chose a script that included a scene in fluffy bathrobes, he chose to style himself with a soft beard and soft bedhead and in soft wool coats. This was his chance to show himself to the world, and he chose to show us how gentle his soul is. I just think about that a lot you know.

[empath-bunny]