#I’m in love with matt stone

[altrodent]

Can you please please please do a Doug Remer x Reader just something fluffy and silly, giving you full creative liberties here.

This is my first request, omg! Thank you, I hope you enjoy! 😭💕

Charming

Pairing: Doug Remer x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Silly goofy man, fluff, slight language

Summary: After moving into a new home, you finally decide to meet your new neighbors. Turns out one of them is super cute, cheesy, and interested

After unloading the final box out of the truck you stop to look around, you feel as if someone’s looking at you. From the house next door, a tall guy with dorky glasses and curly hair is staring at you- well not anymore, he’s trying to act nonchalant. You huff a laugh as you step into your new home.

After an hour or so you hear a knock at the door, when you open it you’re greeted with the same guy from earlier “Hey! I saw you moving in, and I wanted to welcome you to our lovely neighborhood.” He smiles as his pearls seem to shine, as if his entire being is just so refreshing. “Oh, and I brought some homemade Boston Crème Cake as a welcoming gift.” He hands it to you, using this opportunity to look at the rest of you. “Wow, that’s- you bake?” You smile up at him, “Yeah, I cook, clean… even take care of children too on the side.” He leans against your doorframe “So, like a house husband?” He thinks for a second, “Not yet, unfortunately, I’m not in a relationship at the moment.” He purses his lips as though he’s trying to conceal a smile. You perk up “Really? I find that hard to believe- I mean I’m single too but…” he just can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. “Hey, I have a game this weekend, I was actually wondering if you’d like to come. I get free tickets since I’m on the team, and I would like to spend a little more time with you” he sends you a wink as he reaches into his pocket to grab a small pink envelope. “I’d like that, very much… but I haven’t even gotten your name yet.” He scratches his neck “Oh- yeah, sorry, I’m Doug Remer. My friends call me Remer.” He holds out his hand, you shake it and tell him yours “Beautiful name for a beautiful person. So, I’ll see you then?” He smiles brightly at you, you think you might pass out and your face is very obviously telling him that you’re flustered. “Y-yeah! I’ll see you then!” He kisses the top of your head and walks away “It’s a date!” Your jaw, literally, drops. What a charmer…

(A/N): I’m sorry it’s so short but I plan to write more, and maybe even continue this. Thank you so much again! 💕

Word Count: 384

[crab-people-overlord]

The Parallel Between the South Park Episode’s Kenny Dies and the Book of Mormon Musical’s Song ‘Turn it Off’ - TW: grief and death

tw for death and the loss of loved ones (and also kinda for religious trauma? idk, my apologies. this got much darker than I intended lmfao)

As a kid who both grew up Mormon who served a mission AND as a lover of South Park… I find the BoM musical so fascinating. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to see the play (though I have plans to one day), but am more than familiar with the soundtrack! Trust that I’ve got it all memorized.

I love all the SP songs M&T come up with, so obviously the BoM soundtrack is no exception. If you’re a SP fan who hasn’t looked into it, I highly recommend it - it’s VERY reminiscent of SP humor with clearly lots of thought and input from M&T, and the songs they have on the SP show. And vice versa, if you’re a BOM musical lover who doesn’t know much about South Park - I can’t recommend enough you check out the show. It has the same level of satire and an almost endless amount of satirical songs.

From what I’ve heard of the BoM soundtrack, it clearly has Matt and Trey written ALL OVER it lol. It’s clear they have close ties to the Mormon community, which makes sense given their location in Colorado growing up. And one of my favorite songs (along with Spooky Mormon Hell Dream of COURSE lol) is ‘Turn it Off’.

Imo, the two (the SP episode and BoM song) clearly have an intentional parallel, particularly when it comes to religious manipulation for what is the ‘correct’ way to grieve the loss of a loved one ‘should be’.

In ‘Kenny Dies’, you have Kenny actually dying for real and for good. Stan in the episode has a very hard time with it in juxtaposition to his friend Kyle, who has a more healthy psychological outlook of grieving and death even as just a kid. This isn’t to say there’s a more objectively good outlook to grieving or that Kyle had an easier time - anyone who has lost a close one too soon knows that there’s genuinely no fair and good way to grieve the loss of a close one. Which is exactly what this episode is trying to portray - that while Kyle’s more healthy way of letting loose his emotional grievances initially can seem like the more emotionally secure way to deal with things and probably is, that doesn’t mean that life makes it possible to do so.

Stan gets very avoidant in this episode, just as he does in many others. He is confused as to how a seemingly all-knowing and caring God would take away someone he loves so much and views as so wholesome and perfect. And his feelings are more than fair and relatable here. This causes Stan to avoid one of his best friends who really wants and needs him at the time as poor Kenny really needs him there at his side as one of his closest and most treasured friends, and it’s not fair to him that Stan avoids him. This hurts SO BAD and is one of the extremely rare times a show makes me tear up, because I think a lot of us who have lost someone so amazing and close can really relate to this feeling of not knowing how to be there when you’re so hurting indescribably bad yourself to the point you feel like you genuinely don’t know how to be there for your loved ones because you’re too fucked up.

In the SP episode, you have Kenny’s literal last words be, “Where is Stan?”

In the Book of Mormon Musical ‘Turn it Off’ song, you have the Elder Thomas’ sister with cancer’s last words be, ‘Where is my brother?” (him singing about himself being said-brother. But his reminiscing in this song VERY MUCH has to deal with Stan’s own feelings in ‘Kenny Dies’.) These two lines can’t be coincidence and show something personal in Trey and Matt’s personal life experiences.

I get that obviously M&T try to bring dark humor to both these parallels, but for me, while I can still find it funny - I get an overwhelming sense that it’s one of the rare times they are also trying to actually be deep here. In the ‘Kenny Dies’ episode, you have that conversation between Stan and Chef where Stan asks, “Why would God let Kenny die, Chef? Why? Kenny’s my… f-friend. Why can’t God take someone else’s f-friend?”

And this is a more than fair and realistic question for Stan to ask at 8 years old. Jesus, in my early 20’s, I’ve asked the same fucking question and it’s one of the fucking reasons I left the Mormon church in the first place. Chef responds by saying, “Stan… sometimes God takes those closest to us, because it makes him feel better about himself. He is a very vengeful God, Stan. He's all pissed off about something we did thousands of years ago. He just can't get over it, so he doesn't care who he takes. Children, puppies, it don't matter to him, so long as it makes us sad. Do you understand?”

This is clearly written by Trey who had lost someone he loved so very much pretty recently. And it fucking hurts every time to hear that line.

Stan responds, “But then, why does God give us anything to start with?”

To which Chef says, “Well, look at it this way: if you want to make a baby cry, first you give it a lollipop. Then you take it away. If you never give it a lollipop to begin with, then it would have nothin' to cry about. That's like God, who gives us life and love and help just so that he can tear it all away and make us cry, so he can drink the sweet milk of our tears. You see, it's our tears, Stan, that give God his great power.”

I think this is the turning point at which Stan becomes a bit more nihilistic and nonchalant about life. But it also doesn’t make that moment where he actually makes the extremely difficult effort to show up for Kenny even more devastating to learn that Kenny had already passed by that point.

Anyways, I honestly don’t know the point I was trying to make here lmfao. Because I don’t think there ever is a point to make about when you lose someone who should have never been lost, other than how you feel is fucking valid— and anyone who says otherwise likely has never had the displeasure of losing someone who a just God would never take in the first place.

And for what it’s worth… if there’s anything I’ve learned from losing loved ones far too fucking prematurely, whether that comes to the stupid fucking healthcare system not taking 21-year-olds seriously when you say they're having a stroke so they literally fucking die because it’s not taken seriously in time (sadly a true and personal story of my brother. I may make occasional dark jokes about this because I only know how to cope w dark jokes so if I ever do please laugh so I don’t cry lmfao) or your best friend killing themselves at age 20 (also sadly a real story), or anywhere in-between… just know that how you process that grief is FAIR and real and there’s no actual REAL moral way of grieving, and any one who says otherwise is SO MORALLY UP THEIR ASSES (not talking about Kyle here btw; I know Kyle suffers just as much in this episode. talking about people in real life who try to pressure to to get over grief a particular way.) You don’t have to be a ‘healthy’ griever like Kyle. It’s okay to be a selfish and angry and non-understanding one like Stan or Chef or Elder Thomas (and by extension, Trey) in The Book of Mormon with his sister.

And if something like “Where was Stan?” or “Where is my brother?” haunts you? Just know that you’re not alone.

Either way- please hug your loved ones closely for me today, even if you’re not much of a hugger like I’m not. I’m really struggling with the loss of a few close ones today (probably in an unhealthy way but can now understand that’s okay though I so wish I’d hugged those folks more), and I hope none of you take your loved ones for granted 💔

P.S. You know what makes this funnier? The Mormon church taught me to "turn off" my bisexual thoughts (word for word lmao; m&t clearly did their research with terminology lmao), and then life taught me you can't actually “turn off” grief or your own sexual attractions lmao. Plot twist: both those lessons of just ‘turning it off’ were bullshit! Turns out feelings are like Kenny – they keep coming back no matter how many times you try to kill them. And I love Kenny and am glad he always comes back… so maybe it’s time to accept that hard feelings can also be healthy to just feel.

So here's to feeling things, even when they suck. Here's to Stan's awkward avoidance, to Kyle's ‘healthier’ grieving (fucking show-off (said lovingly)- I love kyle and look up to him sm tbh), to Chef's cynical theology he teaches to Stan , and to every single one of us who's ever been haunted by a "where were you?"

[treyisms]

dating joe “coop” cooper mini hcs (f!reader):

(slight references to mature content)

- constantly stealing his plaid pants, especially in the morning (because they’re super comfy and they’re always slightly warm in a sweet way that lets you know coop is there <3)

- walking around the house in said plaid pants & a lil shirt, because last time you walked around in just coop’s t-shirt, remer nearly choked on his cereal and squeak tried to give him the heimlich which just resulted in remer falling backwards on squeak… and it was just… a lot

- coop loves butterfly kisses (batting his eyelashes against yours) because it’s such an intimate, but innocent way of showing love

- he sleeps flat on his tummy with absolutely no pillow so you are consistently squished underneath of him when you two sleep :’)

- he calls you so many lil nicknames esp “baby” & “honey”, and if you return the favor (HEAVY on calling him “baby”) he gets so red and does that lil nose scrunch ifykyk

- mf has the dreamiest eyes ever, so he’s constantly giving you heart eyes & announcing to the entire room, regardless of who is there “you know, you’re a really pretty girl y/n”

- it’s gotten to the point that when coop goes out to the bar after a game with his buddies, he’s just whining “man i just miss my girlfriend, ‘m gonna head home soon guys” for like 15 minutes straight until remer screams at him to leave already

- you are sitting in his lap CONSTANTLY, but there’s nothing he loves more than sitting in yours

- if you have long nails, he absolutely loves when you scratch them slightly down his back or the base of his head while he sits in your lap

- “that’s nice honey” with his eyes all closed and mouth slightly parted all happily :(((

- when he’s practicing his single shots, you stand in front of him with his chest to your back because he’s just absolutely obsessed with your body warmth (and other things)

- LOVES to look down his nose at you (not in the mean way, in a way that he loves feeling big and strong <3)

- squeeze his biceps it makes him feel so floaty & confident

- he def starts to throw out remer’s 3 in 1 shower products after you switch up his entire routine, but naturally remer is defensive

- “DUDE! my girlfriend said this shit is terrible for your skin stop using it” “but it’s 3 in fucking 1, that means it’s more soap dude! i’m getting cleaner that way dumbass!!”

- you usually don’t even have to break up their fights, it’s often followed by one of them stomping off, then the other for about 10 minutes or so, and then a sweet lil reunion between them

- because at his core coop is incredibly sweet & really loves to feel connected to the people he values

- chronic hand holder— like constantly kissing them, holding and squeezing them, playing with your fingers or rings, you name it.

- “you must really like holding my hand coop” “i just like you a lot.. that’s all” :)

- overall, he just absolutely adores you and calls you his “favorite lil cheerleader” :’)

[adidastain]

never say never

90s trey parker x fem reader

warnings: vomit mention, cheating mention

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), part one

word count: 2622

—

“This is definitely raw,” I whispered to myself, sighing heavily. I prodded at the piece of chicken on the plate in front of me with my fork, trying my best not to look absolutely repulsed. It smelled good. It just didn’t look white enough on the inside for me to trust it. 

Granted, I knew absolutely squat about cooking, so maybe I was wrong. There was a good chance my appetite was just gone, having been completely miserable throughout the entire four hours of this wedding so far. 

Everyone was all gathered on the dance floor, having the time of their lives. I knew I needed to put some food in me, and I was exhausted, so no dancing for me. Especially not in these heels. 

That being said, I was sitting at my table, alone. I watched my sister and her newly wedded husband dance around in circles, bumping into other couples every so often. What a total circus. 

I sighed, getting up with my plate to pick out something else to eat. Most of the options were torn through already. I decided to play it safe and avoid meat, so I settled for some asparagus. It really isn’t as bad as a lot of people preach. 

I really wanted a cigarette. 

“Hey,” I heard a voice from behind me. A hand lightly nudged my arm, just out of reach. 

It was Trey, one of the groomsmen. He was my partner when we walked down the aisle, meaning we’d had quite a lot of time to get to know each other a little during rehearsals and parties and whatnot. 

“Hey,” I said calmly. 

“Where have you been?” he asked me, smiling. “I’ve been shakin’ ass for like, thirty minutes. All by myself.”

I rolled my eyes. “My feet are killing me,” I said, looking at him with the most innocent eyes I could muster. 

I knew Jimmy, my sister’s new husband, had known Trey from like, way, way back. Apparently they’ve been friends since they were 14. I also learned from Jimmy that Trey used to get so nervous when talking to girls that he’d have to go to the restroom and throw up. Part of me wondered if that was still something he struggled with. Probably not; I could tell Trey was a huge flirt. He’d just be torturing himself all the time if that were the case.

Trey’s blue eyes looked dark in the dim light. The only thing illuminating the dining space was the soft glow of tea candles at the centerpiece of each table. It was quite romantic. 

“You can dance. C’mon. At least just one song,” Trey insisted, bargaining with me as he followed me back to my table. “Please?”

I felt just a little bit bad, but I really did not want to dance. I know it’s horrible, but I kind of wanted my sister to notice what an awful time I was having. She was older than me and had spent most of our childhood bullying and tormenting me, so I was a little bit of a fiend for validation and care from her. 

It also didn’t help that she just married my ex-fiance. But, you know, it’s all good. Whatever. 

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, having sat back down. I stared down at my food, having lost my appetite yet again. 

“Can I at least sit with you?” Trey asked me. I nodded, clearing my belongings off of the chair next to me so he could sit. He’d ditched his blazer somewhere and was now just left in a white dress shirt with no necktie or anything. I have to say, he looked pretty handsome, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair all messy and whatnot. 

Trey sat with me and watched everyone scream the lyrics of Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond while I worked on my asparagus, nibble by nibble. He was a nice guy. He always sort of stuck to my side, hanging out with me whenever we had free time during the wedding rehearsals. He always came dressed in pajamas with some stubble on his face. Tonight was the first time I’d seen him looking so sharp and dapper. 

After the song was over, he turned towards me again. 

“You don’t like weddings,” Trey stated, resting his head in his palm. 

I didn’t look up from my plate, shaking my head as I slowly chewed and swallowed the vegetable. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to eat. 

“How come?” he asked me. 

“It’s a long story,” I said quietly. “And I don’t wanna ruin your night. Or Jimmy’s. Or Amy’s, for that matter.”

“Well, you already ruined my night. By being a party-pooper.”

I scoffed, looking at him and rolling my eyes. He was just teasing me. He did that a lot. 

“Just give me the short version,” he continued, scooting closer to me. Trey was sitting on the edge of his seat, his knee rapidly bouncing with anticipation. 

A heavy sigh escaped me and I dropped my fork. I rubbed my temples, taking a deep breath, before tucking my hair behind both ears. 

“Someone here stood me up at the altar,” I huffed, putting my hands in my lap. I gave Trey a look that read something along the lines of, Are you happy now?

He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Who? When?” he asked. 

“I thought you said you wanted the short version,” I said. 

“Well, now I’m curious. I wasn’t expecting that. Tell me more,” he pressed, leaning closer to me. 

I sighed through my nose, looking down at my lap. I swallowed and started picking at my fingernails. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Not that they don’t know already, it’s just… I don’t wanna bring up old shit, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I gotcha. Just tell me,” Trey said. God, why is he so eager?

I took a deep breath, letting my forehead sit in my hands to avoid making eye contact with him. I knew his response wasn’t going to be to hug me and tell me that I had every right to be miserable, but part of me really wanted his consolation. I wondered if telling him this would revoke his status as someone I felt safe with here. The only person I felt safe with here. 

“I was supposed to get married last March. To Jimmy,” I mumbled. I felt like curling up into a ball and hiding under the table. I wanted to be buried alive at that moment. 

“You have to be joking,” Trey said quietly. 

“I’m not joking.”

“I didn’t know Jimmy was a fucking idiot,” he laughed.

I hummed. “Yeah. He’s the idiot,” I repeated.

“I mean, at least you didn’t have to go through all that court bullcrap, right?” he said. “Divorce fucking sucks.” 

I’d somehow ended up subconsciously gripping my hair to the point of it almost being ripped out of my head. Trey probably didn’t mean to stress me out so much, but I wished he’d been more sensitive about it. I thought I’d gotten over it until rehearsals started happening. 

I don’t even think I was mad at Jimmy anymore. I was just mad at myself. I felt like a complete idiot about the entire thing. I looked like a complete idiot too; I’d gotten into my dress and had my hair and makeup done and all, and I didn’t have a single second thought the entire time leading up to the actual ceremony. I really underestimated my naivety that day. 

“Hey,” Trey hummed. 

I sighed and looked at him. I didn’t tear up at all. I was just irritated. I felt sick and Trey wasn’t being helpful whatsoever.

I noticed his throat shift slightly as he swallowed. “We don’t have to dance,” he said softly. “It sucks that you have to kinda relive everything.”

“And everyone knows. Almost every single person here was invited to my wedding. It’s fucking embarrassing,” I said quietly. “And no one wants to bring it up because it’s old shit. It’s like I’m on a fucking island.”

Now I felt my throat tighten. I still felt safe with Trey. Thank God. 

I wondered why Jimmy didn’t invite him to our wedding or ever have me meet him. Maybe they just weren’t in touch then. 

There was a brief moment of silence where Trey sat, staring at me. I looked at him, and once our eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze down to his hands. 

“My ex-fiance cheated on me,” he told me, giving me a small empathetic smile. 

I swallowed as our eyes met again. I felt his warm hands gently take mine. 

“With an a-capella singer,” he grimaced. “‘N I said, ‘Fuck you, Liane. I’m gonna make a movie because you cheated on me.’” 

“You made a movie?” I repeated. 

“Yeah, man. It’s totally sweet,” he laughed. “A humble prospector, Alferd Packer, and his party are led to certain doom by his disloyal horse, appropriately named Liane. It’s a musical.”

I shook my head, laughing. 

“I have to humble myself sometimes, ‘cause if she didn’t cheat on me, I probably wouldn’t have my career,” he laughed sheepishly. 

“And I’m here with my waitressing job while my sister’s out cutting Jennifer Aniston’s hair every month. And you’re a filmmaker,” I laughed, though there was nothing funny about anything I was saying. 

“Well I think Jimmy’s an asshole anyway. Don’t tell him I said that,” he said, scooting closer to me again. His knees were now crazing mine. 

I hummed, resting my head against my palm. Trey still held one of my hands, gently tracing over my knuckles with his thumb. 

That’s when I heard Forever Young by Alphaville ring through the venue. Suddenly I was sent way the fuck back to my senior prom.

I gasped softly. I really did love this song. Even if I sat by myself in the corner, sipping on some sparkling beverage while I watched all my classmates with their dates. 

Trey had become very invested in scraping a stain out of the pristine white tablecloth and seemed very shocked when he noticed me stand up. 

“Up,” I said, flapping my hand to beckon him to join me. “Stand up. This is your one dance.” 

I quickly slid my heels off and suddenly realized how tall Trey was. His hands tentatively slid onto my waist, holding me in place as I kicked off my second heel and held onto his shoulders. 

My gaze had been focused on the floor and our feet, so my heart almost jumped out of my chest once I looked up at him and saw how close his face was to mine. I could see all of his freckles in the warm orange light of the tea candle a few feet away, accompanied by the occasional purple strobe from the dance floor. 

Trey grinned, flashing his fang-like snaggletooth. He quickly smothered his smile however, instead pursing his lips together and swallowing harshly. 

“Hi,” he hummed.

What a dork.

I subtly rolled my eyes. “Hi,” I said, trying not to smile at him. I could see his cheeks starting to turn a shade of pink. I guess it was kinda cute. 

We started swaying, and Trey opted to hold one of my hands while his other held my waist, like a traditional ballroom dance. “You come around here often?” he said, smirking with raised eyebrows. 

“No,” I giggled, swallowing. 

“Me neither,” he whispered. I noticed his eyes dart down to look at my lips for a split second. 

He swallowed again, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. I could barely breathe; my stomach was in knots and my heart was beating a million miles a minute. This was like my high school dream come true. I really felt like a teenager again. Just for a moment. 

I looked down to make sure he wasn’t close to stepping on my toes. I decided to just stand on his feet instead, putting me up a little higher and infinitely closer to him. 

“Did they play this at your senior prom?” I asked him softly. 

“No,” he said, smiling. “Good thing, though. I’d be in shambles right now.”

“Why?”

“Guess who my date was,” he said.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I didn’t have a date,” I told him. 

“You do now,” he whispered. 

I swallowed. Somehow Trey made me feel less alone than anyone else ever had in my entire life. I always felt alone when I was with Jimmy. We were really different. 

I knew I was pretty… unconventional. Weird. Just really, really awkward all the time. I never really had anything to talk about unless it was something I was actually interested in, so small talk was a fucking nightmare for me. Trey made me feel so much more normal. 

Trey cleared his throat, looking down as he leaned a little closer. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you how pretty you look tonight,” he whispered shyly. 

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

At that point, the song was unfortunately coming to a close. It was a short song. That was the worst part about it. 

Trey and I just swayed back and forth, spinning around in a circle slowly to the pace of the song. Our eyes never left each other. Only after the song ended did he let go of my hand, a very sad look on his poor, sweet face. 

I felt cold as I slipped out of his arms, my heart still racing from the adrenaline. Trey gave me a small smile and I backed away from him. 

I looked away as I heard the crowd around the dance floor erupt in a fit of loud cheers for all the couples who danced together. It was startling and obnoxious. I fucking hate weddings. 

“C’mere,” I heard Trey hum with a soft, mischievous grin on his face. One of his hands tenderly slid up to caress my cheek, while the other gently grasped my forearm. I let him pull me closer, knowing full well what he was about to do and welcoming it with open arms. 

With racing hearts and withheld breaths, Trey and I came together in a slow, gentle kiss, like we were testing the waters. The hand he held my arm with quickly made its way up to my neck. His lips were warm and moved with care and patience. I didn’t hear or feel him breathing, until he let out the heaviest exhale he could muster after holding his breath. His body relaxed, bringing him even closer to me. 

I pulled away, looking down at his chest. I swallowed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked nervously.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again,” I whispered. 

“Well… why not?” he asked again, his voice soft as a feather.

“I live in Seattle, Trey,” I told him, laughing sheepishly. 

I watched his body deflate like he was defeated. His hands had left my face and now rested idly at his sides. 

“I don’t care,” he whispered. “I’ll definitely see you again.”

“You realize that I am never going to visit my sister, right?” I laughed. 

“You realize we both have phones, right?” he retorted, teasing me. “And cars?”

I shook my head. Whatever. I guess I could just enjoy the moment with him. 

But I wanted to see him again. I wanted to see him tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Nothing compared to the way he’d made me feel the past few days and I didn’t want that to be gone so soon. 

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” he whispered, softly kissing me again.

[mattsdae]

this pic kills me everytime i see it

[hrtrey]

bald trey and matt beard haters need to be locked up immediately i said what i said!!! 😤

[sweeetberries]

Matt Stone Monday‼️‼️‼️

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. 

You, to be exact. 

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing. 

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen. 

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it? 

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?” 

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?” 

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.” 

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.” 

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.” 

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?” 

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.” 

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?” 

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs. 

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.” 

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity. 

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken. 

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new? 

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash. 

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder. 

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow. 

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor. 

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state. 

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands. 

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer. 

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm. 

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder. 

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms. 

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone. 

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?” 

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.” 

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others. 

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared. 

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind. 

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.” 

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked. 

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?” 

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned. 

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while. 

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry. 

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch. 

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…” 

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…” 

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement. 

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more. 

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded. 

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?” 

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together. 

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…” 

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer. 

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise. 

“At once?” Frank asked. 

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.” 

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began. 

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion. 

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights. 

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible. 

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven. 

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once. 

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.  

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!” 

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold. 

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?” 

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin. 

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.” 

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.  

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him. 

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”  

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. 

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him. 

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.” 

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.” 

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?” 

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?” 

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point. 

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.  

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?” 

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?” 

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…” 

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?” 

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet. 

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds. 

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up. 

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled. 

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core. 

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently. 

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely. 

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease. 

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places. 

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds. 

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion. 

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open. 

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray. 

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open. 

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix. 

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.” 

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.” 

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table. 

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.  

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing. 

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.” 

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth. 

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection. 

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern. 

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead. 

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own. 

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.” 

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness. 

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole. 

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer. 

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming. 

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him. 

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth. 

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.  

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you. 

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door. 

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of. 

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber. 

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur. 

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all. 

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope. 

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale. 

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story. 

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin. 

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it… 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mattscoquette]

𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you slowly notice your boyfriend is falling out of love with you

angst !! cursing, mentions of weed, smoking, arguing, glass breaking, kinda toxic!matt, breaking up

2.3k words

are we awake? am i too old to be this stoned?

the small sliver of sunlight that peered through your curtain danced across your face, causing you to stir awake slowly. a hand reached out, only to find the other side of the mattress cold. typical.

it wasn’t long before the strong reek of matt’s weed filled your apartment, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you peered at the clock next to you, the numbers 6:37 a.m. staring back at you.

slowly, you made your way out of bed and out to the balcony, where matt resided, still clad in his pajamas. a rolled joint was held between his pointer and thumb, dark smoke swirling around him.

“are you seriously high already?” you mumbled, sleep still coaxing your voice as you wrapped your arms around your middle as a means to stay warm.

matt simply looked back at you, his usual blue eyes red and bleary. he gave you a small shrug before holding the joint to his lips, inhaling deeply.

“i guess so.”

for goodness sake, i wasn't told you'd be this cold.

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to question if matt still loved you. you’d been together for a year and a half now, and it felt as though he’d only loved you for the first year.

it started small. little remarks you would tend to just brush off.

“you should wear this, it looks better on you.”

“why are you always in a bad mood whenever i’m around?”

but they never bothered you much. matt loved you. and you loved him. that was the way it always was, and you never seemed to think any different.

and matt was so sweet in the beginning. flowers were delivered to your door every week, along with a handwritten letter from him. your meals were always paid for, and you were almost certain you hadn’t touched a door handle for nearly half of the relationship. now, things couldn’t be more different.

when matt started being mean, you never questioned if he still loved you. he was probably having a bad day, or something heavy was weighing on him he just didn’t feel like talking about. it was never a question if he loved you or not.

but lately, you weren’t so sure anymore. it was rare for matt to be kind. he was also so angry and upset, and you couldn’t just seem to understand why. he acted like you were just an afterthought in his mind, a footnote in the story of his life. like you weren’t his girlfriend, like you weren’t his everything, like he always promised you.

you smashed a glass into pieces

that's around the time i left.

you lost count of how many argument you and matt had this week. there was always something. nothing could ever be okay with you both.

it was beginning to feel like matt wasn’t fighting for you relationship anymore. yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail, just for things to be even a little bit like how they used to be. it was an uphill battle, and you were losing.

you were angrily clearing off the table, not caring if neither you nor matt were done eating dinner. you weren’t even sure what this argument was about. something along the lines of matt bending over backwards for you, when you reciprocate nothing in return. although that couldn’t be further from the truth, you tried to listen. you tried to piece together what exactly it was that you did that made your relationship crumble.

“i just don’t get it y/n,” matt retorted as he stood up abruptly, bringing his dishes to the sink and dropping them in with a loud clank, “why is it that i’m doing everything for you, but the second i need something, it’s a big issue?”

you glared at him from you spot by the table, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. you didn’t want to argue anymore. you just wanted your boyfriend back.

he just scoffed as he turned back around, clearly not impressed with your lack of an answer. matt began to scrub the dishes bitterly, almost as if the plate had done something wrong and he was mad at it, as opposed to you.

“i do so much for you, matt.” you mumbled, keeping your head low as you wiped off the table. no matter how much you two argued, you never wanted him to see you cry. “i feel like sometimes you’re the one who can’t be pleased.”

that set him off.

“are you serious-” he began, throwing the plate down in the sink angrily as he turned around to look at you. the glass shattered, the sound piercing through the kitchen as you two fell silent.

it was an accident, you knew it, but it didn’t stop you from crying more.

you turned to face matt, your eyes red and cheeks blotchy as tears streamed down them. before he could get a word out, you were already announcing that you were going back home.

you said i'm full of diseases

your eyes were full of regret.

it had been a week and a half since matt broke the plate, and things hadn’t gotten any better. if anything, that was the first crack in the glass. matt seemed to be picking an argument all day, looking for anything to make a comment on. no matter what you did, you just couldn’t make him happy.

“can you stop hogging the damn blanket?” matt murmured as he sat next to you on the couch, his arms crossed. he tugged the fabric from your lap to his, shuffling even further away than he was before, his focus returning to the movie playing on the tv.

you looked at his side profile, his demeanor so cold and off putting. where you both used to be cuddled up together under one blanket when watching a movie, now you couldn’t so much as sit too close to him without starting something.

“sorry.” you mumbled faintly. that was starting to become a repeat word in your vocabulary. sorry. you had decided instead of arguing back, you could just be sorry. if matt felt like he was always right, he was sure to love you again the way he used to. how couldn’t he be?

“god, you’re just so annoying sometimes.” he muttered, fixing the blanket once more as his eyes bore holes through you. he watched the way your face fell, a knot twisting in his stomach.

how could he say something so mean to girl he loved so much?

in return, you sighed quietly and shakily, returning your eyes to the tv screen. you’d rather have matt be angry at you everyday than not have him at all.

you used to have a face straight out of a magazine

now you just look like anyone.

for a change, matt suggested you two go out. it was a breath of fresh air for you both. there was almost an unspoken agreement that you two couldn’t be fighting if you were in public. you could each play the part of the happy couple you once were.

you made every effort to look your best. your hair and makeup were done, your outfit perfectly put together after countless hours spent curating it. you took a step back from the mirror, smiling at your reflection. you felt really, really pretty. a small sense of optimism lingered in the air as you made your way down to matt’s car when he said he was at your apartment. he couldn’t possibly ignore you, not when you looked like this.

a small smile played on your glossed lips as you climbed into the car, your floral perfume strong. he offered the faintest of smiles, followed with a small kiss hello. to most girls, they’d be upset if their boyfriend reacted how matt did. they’d want him to compliment them, ruin their makeup. but to you, it was a start. you can’t remember the last time he made you feel how he just did.

the ride to the mall was peaceful. it was filled with small talk, the radio playing softly in the background. the day was just getting started, but you felt hopeful. you felt like today would be a really good day for you and matt, and your relationship was in desperate need of one.

and it was great. it felt almost like what you called “the good times,” the part of your relationship where matt actually felt like your boyfriend. when he actually acted like your boyfriend. he held your hand the entire time you walked through the mall, and carried every single bag for you. at the cash registers, his wallet was out before the total was even displayed on the card reader. the day was almost perfect. almost. the only thing missing was the compliments you craved from matt so badly.

in the good times, it seemed as if every other sentence coming from matt was a compliment. he loved to tell you how much he loved you. at one point, you had even wondered if matt remembered your actual name, because he was always calling you his pretty girl. his.

but today, that seemed to be the only thing lacking. instead, matt’s gaze seemed very preoccupied with the other girls in the mall. his eyes lingered at all of their bodies, the way they would show a little cleavage or expose their midriff. it didn’t take you long to realize the only reason matt was being so kind today was because he could distract himself with other girls who weren’t you.

i just sat in self-pity and cried in the car.

although you and matt had been having problems for as long as you had, you didn’t dare tell anyone. because when you were around friends, you and matt were good at pretending. nobody dared to question your relationship, because there was nothing to question. he seemed to love you the way he always had. it was only behind closed doors when you had problems.

but even though you accepted this was your relationship now, you couldn’t help but remember the good times. it would just hit you out of nowhere, the longing for something that didn’t exist anymore. something that could never be as it was. it was a crushing feeling, really, and the only thing you could do was let it consume you. it would eat at you for days, taking away your appetite and replacing it with a sinking feeling inside of you.

you often found yourself looking back at old pictures and videos, notes from matt and dead flower petals you saved. if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, sometimes you could still feel the way you used to. you’d be lost in your thoughts, living in a deluded world where you and matt were still happy. one where he had eyes for only you, and made you feel like the most special person in the universe. you could still remember how tight he would hold you every night, how he’d look at you like you hung every star in the sky.

then, the reality would dawn on you that it wasn’t like that anymore. you were mourning a relationship that wasn’t even dead yet.

you played a part, this is how it starts.

as the days, weeks, months passed, you felt more and more detached from your relationship. you were waking up everyday next to someone you couldn’t recognize anymore. the spark you two shared was now put out, embers on the ground dying. he wasn’t the matt you fell in love with anymore.

you had stopped trying. maybe if matt noticed you were slowly fading away, he’d do something. but he didn’t. he never did. the two of you had no energy for anything anymore, your relationship on it’s last limbs.

oh, i just had a change of heart.

matt’s couch was something you’d grown accustom to over the last two years. it was your saving grace when he would push you to the point of no return, when you couldn’t even lay next to him to sleep. as the ceiling stared back at you, you heard small creaks in the floorboard as matt creeped into the living room. he looked a mess, his hair tousled in all different directions, the dark spots under his eyes more prominent than ever.

“can i lay with you?” his voice whispered in the darkness as he stood above you. he clambered in beneath the blankets when you gave a small nod, exhaustion falling over you fast.

he rustled around a bit, finally finding a comfortable position facing you. he studied your face, taking in every detail.

“it’s not working out anymore, is it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked back at him. you watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his chapped lips parted and breathing hitched.

“it’s not.”

you both remained quiet, as if you were soaking in the last moments of your relationship. the same way you try to remember everything about your hotel room when you’re leaving vacation, committing every last minute thing to memory.

you stared back at matt, waiting for him to speak. he opened his mouth to speak, closing it when no words came out. he tried again.

“are we done then?”

you inhaled shakily, your eyes fluttering shut. you nodded, feeling the weight of the world come crashing down on you. two years of your life, over like that. before you could even think about getting up, matt’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“can…can you just stay with me one more night?” he asked. “i don’t want it to be over just yet.”

you peeled your eyes open, being met with matt’s sad ones. you nodded your head yes, feeling him instantly wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. just like how he used to. his head rested atop yours, the rhythmic sound of each other’s breathing lulling you both to sleep.

you would both deal with it tomorrow. you would feel the unbearable feeling of heartbreak in the morning. but for now, you could still both be with one another the way you used to. just one last time.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i know i was yapping sm ab needing a break but i wrote this in one sitting yesterday…. also a fanfic to the 1975 is sooo tumblr. pls lmk ur thoughts bc this is very different from what id normally write:) and thank u for 5.1k ! i love u all

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Just to Stop the Feeling

bi!Theodore Nott x m!reader; angst & fluff

summary: in the wake of his mother’s death and his father’s ever increasing expectations of him, Theodore finds love in a place he never would have expected

a/n: a year in the making and this might be the gayest thing i’ve ever written. big shout out to @suugarbabe for listening to me yap about this for weeks, the anon who requested this, and everyone who’s been supporting me the past year. here's 6.2k words of bi awakening, enjoy ��

The Great Hall was loud, too loud if you asked Theodore. The Sytherin was sat at his house table, head propped up on one hand as his friends chattered around him. The sorting ceremony had just wrapped up which meant everyone in the Hall was catching up about their summers. Theo thought back to just a couple days ago, the oppressive silence that haunted the Nott Manor in stark contrast to just how lively and crowded it was now. His father was rarely in common spaces nowadays, thank Merlin, but that left Theo to stalk around the Manor much like the ghosts floating above him now. If only it was as interesting an existence as Sir Nicholas or even Peeves. Not even a poorly rolled cigarette in the garden brought much enjoyment to him these days.

“Theo! Are you with us mate?”

His eyes drag up to meet the inquisitive look on Enzo’s face. He hums in acknowledgement.

“We’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” Theo takes the cue to look around and see the group looking at him, some in amusement and some—Mattheo specifically, though he tries to hide it—with concern.

He slips on his signature lazy half smirk with minimal effort, rehearsed and perfected. “Tired from the train, what did I miss?”

Enzo perks up and launches them back into conversation, Mattheo visibly relaxing in his peripheral. Arm still supporting his head, he jokes and laughs and nods along to everyone recapping their summer breaks, feeling hollow.

The Slytherin common room wasn’t cozy in the traditional sense, with its cool lighting and excess of stone architecture, but Theo found it comforting nonetheless. He was sitting on one of the leather couches in front of the fireplace, this time only in the company of Mattheo and Draco.

Cool leather against his skin contrasted nicely with the heat of the fire, the familiar voices of his friends putting his soul at ease for the first time in months. He loosely kept up with what they were talking about, his mind simultaneously wandering to thoughts about the new term. Evidently, Draco and Mattheo were on the same wavelength as the topic shifted to Hogwarts and—much to Theo’s dismay—girls. “So Nott, got your eye on anyone this year?”

Theo rolled his head against the back of the couch to face Draco, that smirk back on his face. “Eh, hadn’t thought about it too much. I know Pansy has hers on you, Malfoy.”

The blond scoffs, “as if I wasn’t aware.”

“Like a predator on prey,” Mattheo cracks, smile evident in his voice. Theo allows himself to chuckle as Draco looks at them helplessly. Theo feels Matt’s elbow nudge at his side. “Too bad it isn’t Granger looking at him that way.”

A pillow flies past Theo’s head and smacks the boy next to him square in the face. Mattheo dramatically falls back onto the couch before erupting into laughter.

“Too bad you aren’t a beater, huh Malfoy?” Theo quips, quickly putting up his hands to potentially block another projectile pillow.

Draco just groans, “I’m going to bed.”

The first month of classes flies by fairly quickly, everyone falling into their usual rhythm. Quidditch practices a few times a week, late nights smoking in the astronomy tower and the odd party here and there. Theo is itching to get off the castle grounds.

That’s why he jumped at the opportunity to go when Enzo asked the group for company on his shopping trip that Saturday morning. Theodore loved Hogsmeade in the fall. The shops would put up festive decorations and the entire atmosphere of the small village grew extra cozy.

With a Slytherin scarf loosely draped over his shoulders and Butterbeer on the brain, he met his group of friends at the beginning of the path to Hogsmeade.

The breeze was comfortable as they walked through the village, stopping every couple of shops to peruse the new inventory. They finally make their way to the Three Broomsticks, finding a table for the group.

Theo groans as he gets voted to go up to the bar for drinks. Sitting at one of the stools is a guy in scarf showing off a badger emblem. As he gets closer, he realizes he vaguely recognizes the Hufflepuff. Theo settles himself down on the stool next to him, causing the guy to look over.

He has a quizzical expression on his face, eyes lighting up as he figures out who he’s looking at, “You’re Nott, right? I think we have a couple classes together.”

His heart thumps a little harder at his name on the boy’s lips. The boy in front of him tilts his head when Theo doesn’t respond, reminding him to give a quick nod.

The Hufflepuff’s lips tug up into a small smile as he offers up his name.

Theo blinks a couple times and stammers out something about seeing the guy around sometime before he’s speed walking back to the table, no drinks in hand.

“Whoa, who got Nott blushing?”

Theo furrows his brows together in confusion, a hand coming up to his face. And sure enough, heat was radiating off his cheeks.

“Never mind that, Theo! Where’s the butterbeer?”

Monday morning Theo is sitting in History of Magic before class starts, getting ready for an hour of boredom, when books hitting the desk with a thud catches his attention. He’s startled to see you, the Hufflepuff boy from the Three Broomsticks, standing there already looking at him.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Theo nods, feeling like an idiot. Why was this Hufflepuff boy able to completely shut off his ability to speak, let alone think?

That bright smile is back on your face as you take the seat next to him. And his heart flutters.

“So glad this is the last year of having to put up with Binns and his masterclass story telling,” he can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from your voice and finds himself cracking a smile. An actual smile, not the smirk he usually puts on.

“I know, it’s a wonder anyone manages to stay awake.”

You gesture to the travel mug in your hands, “gotta keep at least a bit of caffeine on me for emergencies. One of my muggle-born friends gave me something called an energy drink? It’s…a lot, to be quite honest.”

Theo huffs a laugh, “energy drink? You’d be better off with some espresso than whatever muggles put in those things.”

You give a contemplative nod, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before he can figure out something else to say, to keep existing in the surprising warmth of conversation with you, Binns is starting up his monotone ramble. Theo feels his heart sink as you look away from him to at least make an attempt to pay attention. He silently looks through his textbook, trying to ignore the weird sensation in his chest.

“Hey Theo, wanna come to the Astronomy Tower tonight?” Mattheo’s voice comes from behind where he’s sat in the common room the next evening after dinner.

He pulls his nose out of the book he was buried in as he thinks it over. It had been a while since he’d had a proper smoke with the lads, and he didn’t need to ask to know that’s what Mattheo had in mind. It doesn’t take long for him to set his book down on the table with a nod, “yeah, sure.”

As he turns around to face him, he sees Enzo right behind the other boy, grinning with a thumbs up. The look on his face makes Theo debate changing his mind, but he walks out of the common room with the pair anyway. 

The walk up to the Astronomy Tower is long and filled with so many stairs that Theo is very quickly reminded why he doesn’t bother coming up here as often as he thinks he’d like to. Enzo and Mattheo walk slightly in front of him, talking about something Theo doesn’t really bother to listen in on, Quidditch perhaps? How those two don’t run out of things to talk about, he’ll never know. He’s so lost in thought he barely notices the last two flights of stairs to the top and he’s suddenly hit with the cool air of early fall. He’s also suddenly aware that Mattheo and Enzo are no longer talking, but instead looking at him. He blinks.

“Huh?”

“Told ya he’s just been on a different planet lately,” Enzo quips, nudging Mattheo with his elbow. Mattheo nods in agreement but doesn’t comment on it, instead repeating his question, “I said do ya got your own smokes or are you taking one off me? Cause if you are, we’re fucked. I’m out.”

Theo isn’t surprised in the slightest, “is that why you invited me? Free cigs?” Nonetheless, he pulls a pack out of his pocket and holds it out for him.

Matt grins as he swipes one, “nah, but it doesn’t hurt. You’ve always got nicer ones than me.” Enzo immediately scoffs.

“It’s cause you’re broke Matty—”

“Shut up, no I’m not!”

“Then explain why you keep mooching off of me—” they continue to bicker before Theo cuts them off. “Matt, got a light?” 

Mattheo shuts up and holds out a lighter, flicking it to life with practiced ease. Enzo swoops in with his joint before Theo can even pull a cigarette out of his pack, rolling his eyes at his friend. Mattheo raises an eyebrow quizzically, “weed? Seriously?”

Enzo just shrugs nonchalantly, cocky little smirk on his face. “Not my fault neither of you know how to have fun—hold on, is that my fucking lighter?!” Mattheo gives him a shrug, moving it away from where Enzo’s leaning in to get a better look. 

Theo sighs, “I think he meant on a school night—”

“Who are you? My mum? Didn’t think you cared about actually attending lessons, Teddy—” Theo immediately scowls at the nickname, making Enzo raise his hands in surrender, smirk still planted on his face. Merlin, he could be insufferable.

Theo returns the shrug, trying to play it off, “just figured with OWLs coming up—”

He’s cut off once again, this time by Mattheo, “don’t tell me, you wanna make sure you don’t miss sitting by that Hufflepuff.” Damn his ability to see straight through him. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you two sitting together yesterday in Binns’ class.”

“Well, I didn’t…” Enzo interjects but is ignored by Mattheo other than an exasperated eye roll.

“You seemed pretty chatty; wasn’t that the same guy at the Three Broomsticks last Saturday?”

Theo quickly lights the cigarette on Mattheo’s still flickering flame and shoves it between his lips. He receives an unimpressed look at his attempt to avoid the question, but to his credit, Matt refrains from pressing further. The same cannot be said for Enzo.

“So what, you’re fraternizing with Hufflepuffs now, are ya mate? Never thought I’d see the day—” his teasing is abruptly ended by Mattheo whacking him upside the head.

Mattheo lights his own cigarette before putting the lighter away, taking a deep drag from it. There’s a beat of silence between them. A gentle breeze passes through the tower as Theo looks out at the Scottish Highlands bathed in the light of the moon.

“He’s just…nice, I guess. Doesn’t seem to mind I’m a Slytherin,” Theo finally answers, releasing a stream of smoke.

Enzo chuckles, rubbing the back of his head where he was whacked. “Fair enough. I feel like usually only girls that want a little fun are willing to break that barrier.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively as he takes a drag as well. Mattheo snorts with a nod. “At least it's not a Gryffindor.” Theo’s nose subconsciously scrunches.

“Yeah, remember that Gryffindor Enz was all over end of last term because word was going around he had a good pot stash?” Now it’s Mattheo getting shoved, but he barely reacts besides a huff of a laugh. 

“Didn’t even have the goods,” Enzo pouts petulantly, “wasted a whole 2 weeks for nothing.”

“I think you’ll live, mate.”

Theo leans back against the railing, cigarette between his lips as he watches his best mates as their bickering shifts into them laughing and joking like it always does. He adds a couple quips here and there, mind wandering to the Hufflepuff boy periodically as the cigarette slowly dwindles. Once it’s reached the end of its life, he snuffs it out, pushing himself off the floor where they’d ended up sitting for the past hour. “I think I’m heading back down to the dorms, it’s getting late.”

Mattheo shares a look with Enzo. With a smirk, Enzo wolf whistles, “gotta get your beauty sleep for your little badger, eh Nott?”

Theo just flips him the middle finger as he crosses the tower to the first of many, many stairs. As his descending footsteps echo through the stairwell, Enzo turns to Mattheo, “poor fucker is whipped.”

Mattheo nods, “and down right oblivious…how many galleons are we betting for how long it takes him to figure it out?”

There’s a mischievous smirk on the other boy’s face. “How much you got?”

The next morning, Theo is once again startled by the Hufflepuff boy dropping his books on the table with that same dramatic thud. If Theo didn’t know any better, he would start to think it was intentionally to get his attention. This time, he speaks first.

“Morning.” 

There’s that bright smile again and Theo’s chest feels…odd.

“Morning!” you chirp as you slide into the seat. “I took your advice and got some espresso, much better than that muggle concoction. Figured since it was your suggestion, I’d bring you some. Mum got some beans from a cafe in London when I wrote her about it.”

Once again a warm sensation floods Theo as a second mug is set on the table and slid his direction. He carefully picks it up and takes off the lid, finding a double shot inside. It’s still hot from what he assumes is a temperature charm on the mug and the warm sensation in his chest gets stronger.

He raises the cup to his nose, inhaling the comforting aroma of coffee before taking a sip. It’s not quite the taste of home, but it’s close. He nods appreciatively. 

Then before he can stop himself he’s making an offer, accent a hint thicker than he typically tries to control, “I’ll have to make you a cup the way I had growing up sometime. This is good though.”

Theo doesn’t have time to backtrack or change his mind before your smile is turning softer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

To hide the flushing of his cheeks, he quickly downs the rest of the liquid and hands the mug back. For maybe the first time ever he’s glad Binns decides now is the perfect time to begin the monotonous period. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you put the mug back in your bag, soft smile still on your face. And maybe Theo doesn’t hate this class as much as he thought he did.

Over the following weeks, Theodore does the unthinkable: he looks forward to bloody History of Magic, just for the opportunity to chat with you before class. 

His friends share looks at breakfast as he starts leaving earlier and earlier each Monday and Wednesday, hoping to get even just a bit of extra time with you. Because he’s too nervous to ask you to hang out. And he cannot for the life of him figure out why. 

He’s Theodore Nott. The stoic, level headed and lusted after Slytherin. Right? He makes people nervous. He flusters pretty girls. So what the bloody hell is going on? 

He’s never, not once in his 5 years at Hogwarts, ever considered the possibility that someone could do this to him. Let alone a stupid, pretty Hufflepuff boy with a gentle, excited smile that’s way too eager to mingle with a snake. But somewhere in his gut Theo knows he’d be devastated if the other boy stopped. 

And that terrifies him.

One morning after several weeks of sitting together, you once again drop your books onto the desk with the theatrics Theo’s come to expect from you. He subconsciously finds himself perking up at the sound just before you start chattering away, something he’s also grown almost fond of. He likes that you tend to fill the space he’d otherwise find awkward or tedious in conversation, seemingly undeterred by his often quiet nature. And he’s more than happy to just listen to you and bask in your welcoming presence. 

This time you’re talking about the History of Magic exam coming up in a couple weeks and your lack of a study partner, something that instantaneously catches Theo’s attention. 

“Yeah, my usual study buddy bailed on me, the nerve,” you laugh. “So now I’m on the hunt for a new one…” 

Theo’s heart rate picks up as you trail off, there’s no way you’re going to say what he’s hoping you will. Right? There’s no way he’s that lucky. Hell, there’s no way someone like you would want to be around him outside sitting next to each other in the worst class offered at Hogwarts. He’s pretty sure you have less controversial friends to ask than a brooding Slytherin whose best mate is the son of Voldemort, for fucks sake—

His internal pity party is cut short by you looking at him almost… nervously?

“Would you maybe be free to, I dunno, study together some time next week? It’s cool if you’re not, I just thought—well, I’m not sure what I thought—other than that I would offer,” your question starts to shift into a ramble and your cheeks flush as you seem to realize it. Meanwhile, Theo’s heart has stopped and his breath catches in his throat. He has to hold himself back from shouting a thrilled “Yes!”

He clears his throat, desperately clinging to his composure. “Yeah, sure, I could make that work. When did you have in mind?”

Theo feels nearly sick with nerves as he sits at the Central Hall fountain outside of the library waiting for you. He was at least 15 minutes early, mostly because Enzo said he would hex him if he kept pacing around the dorm room like he had been for the prior half hour. His foot taps anxiously in a way he is not used to. He's no stranger to stress, but this is on a different level. All he's going to be doing is go over the most boring aspects of wizarding history with you for a couple hours and here he is, worried he's going to end up in the Hospital Wing with heart palpitations. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he looks up at the snoring dragon mural above the library. Just breathe you idiot!

“Hey Theo, sorry I'm late. My dormmate would not shut up.” He hears your voice before he sees you, his head turning to follow the sound. And he tries to keep the surprise off his face at hearing you call him Theo instead of Nott like you had been since that afternoon in the Three Broomsticks. “You ready for the most exciting next couple hours of your life?” Oh, and what he wouldn't do to see that teasing little grin on your face more—

“Ready,” he stands from the fountain bench, following behind you through the heavy wooden doors of the library.

He walks half a step behind you as you weave your way through the tables and shelves, finding a relatively remote spot in the already quiet space. For maybe the first time in—your friendship? Theo hopes that's what you two are at least—the entire time he's known you, your set your books down without the slam.

You must have noticed the look he was giving you because you smirk. “I don't just go throwing books when you're not around. And close your jaw, you'll catch lacewing flies.”

Theo lightly bites on his lip as he sits next to you at the table, your shoulders almost touching. You flip the massive textbook open and pull a couple quills and parchment from your bag as you settle in to go over the material.

There’s a feeling of familiarity with you that Theo wasn’t anticipating. Conversation comes more naturally than when he’s spoken with you before class and he realizes he really, really likes spending time with you. There’s no bickering like there is with Matt and Enzo, no snarky comments thrown around for laughs. It’s peaceful and warm. 

He feels like that around you a lot, he realizes, warm. Comfortable. His arm brushes against yours.

Theo and you spend the next couple hours working through the exam material, interspersed with getting to know each other. He listens to you ramble about your favorite classes this term, your friends—anything you’re willing to tell him, he wants to drink it all in.

Neither of you seem to notice how close you’ve gotten to each other until he can feel your breath on his face and that warmth that seems to radiate off of you. Then, you’re getting closer.

There in the back of the library, Theo’s world comes to a standstill as you gently press your lips against his, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. It takes him a couple seconds to regain his senses before moving his lips back against yours, losing himself in the kiss. 

He notices you taste like earl grey which blends with the woody scent of your cologne in an intoxicating mixture. Much too soon for his liking you’re pulling back and he has to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. 

His eyes flutter open to find you haven’t gone far. In the silence he thinks about how pretty your eyes are and maybe—no, definitely—that’s his new favorite color.

“Was that okay?” your voice is just above a whisper.

Theo just leans forward and recaptures your lips in another kiss. First his mind swirls with this is what kissing is supposed to feel like. He’s dumbfounded that it really can feel like fireworks and it’s not just some sappy bullshit made for the romance novels Pansy and Daphne read.

Then it all comes crashing down.

The next thing he feels is dread. Overwhelming, overpowering dread. He can’t quite place why, but it’s there. And suddenly he’s pulling away from your lips like he’s been burned.

He sees the shock on your face, but before he starts to apologize or explain, his father’s voice is itching in the back of his mind. He steps back.

Your voice saying his name is muffled by the ringing in his ears and your concerned expression is taken over by that all too familiar disappointed look in his father’s eyes. He runs away, feeling more like a coward than he’s ever felt in his life. 

And the worst part is he knows he’s leaving you alone, confused and hurt. But he does it anyway.

After wandering the corridors of the castle for the better part of 10 minutes, lost in thought, he finds himself in front of the music room. Like his body instinctively knew where he needed to be. He pushes the door open, relieved to find it empty. The wooden stairs creak as he walks up. He sits on the rug by the piano, hugging his knees to his chest.

Theo is alone in the music room not 20 minutes before Mattheo finds him. A bloodhound that boy. Or maybe he just knows Theo too well. 

“Your little badger sent me.” Mattheo eases down onto the rug next to him, close enough for his knee to lightly graze Theo’s thigh. “He was freaking out like the world was ending or he kicked your cat or something. Didn’t know where to find you, but he did find Berk and I in the Astronomy tower. So I said I’d take care of it, you’re welcome.”

Theo just hums in acknowledgment.

“So…did he actually kick your cat or what?”

Theo shakes his head.

“Well it must have been pretty bad since you came here. Haven’t seen you hiding out here since, well—” his mum died. Mattheo doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they both know.

A long breath he didn’t realize he was holding breaks out in a sigh as his eyes shut. The soft enchanted piano music is the only sound for a moment as he wills away the emotions threatening to surface. “I don’t know, maybe the world is ending.”

A couple more beats of quiet. “Wanna talk about it?” He knows deep down it’s a question Matt will respect the answer to. And he briefly debates turning him down, but something compels him to slowly nod.

“He—we kissed.”

“Was it bad?”

“No.”

Mattheo nods as he considers the response he was given. “So the problem was that it was good?”

“Yes? No? Maybe?”

“That’s kinda dodging the question, mate.”

Theo groans, “I don’t know, okay?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I just— cazzo! This is wrong, isn’t it? Feeling like this?”

“Theo—”

“I can’t feel this way for another guy. My father would disown me and it’d ruin my life. I’m supposed to marry a pureblood witch and produce an heir and—”

Before Theo has time to stop him or even process what’s happening, Mattheo is grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together, and that same fluttering sensation is back. It’s not as strong and thrilling as kissing you, Theo’s not sure that’s even replicable, but it still feels nice in a way none of his previous kisses have been. Where he was going through the motions for some reason even he didn’t understand. But no, once again he can understand why people would want to do this.

Then as quick as he was pulled in, his best friend is pulling away, silently observing him for a moment.

“Did the world end?” 

“…No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

They sit staring at each other as Theo’s brain struggles to formulate a response. 

“Matty, I—” he hesitates like this is going to be what destroys their friendship, “I don’t think I’m…straight.”

“I didn’t think you were.” 

And something about the way he says it makes Theo feel better. Like he’s not being judged or ridiculed for feeling this way. Like it’s something natural. A no-brainer, boring fact of life. Theo thinks he might cry. 

Instead he leans forward and connects their lips again, just briefly. And part of him knows Mattheo can feel the underlying sadness and fear in it. But when they pull apart once again, neither of them comment on it. A weight feels like it's been lifted off him.

“I think,” Theo pauses as he debates speaking about this out loud for the first time, like it will make it real. “I think I haven’t really felt like myself since my mum...y'know?” He says it like it’s a question, but they both know the truth. “I know it’s been 2 years, I should be fine. But I’m not.”

Mattheo, who had been quietly listening, speaks. “I don’t know Theo…I’ve barely heard you talk about her since you came back to school third year. Have you talked about it to anyone? Hell, have you let yourself grieve?”

“I…I don’t know how. My father stopped mentioning her after the funeral and—he barely acknowledged she was even gone.” He pulls his knees back up to his chest. “I miss her.”

He feels the comforting warmth of Matt’s hand on his shoulder blade. And the gentle touch of his thumb across his cheek, wiping a tear away is the first indication that he’s started to cry. He quickly sniffles in an attempt to stop the tears, but it doesn't work. If anything, it just makes them fall faster. He tucks his head down, forehead against his knees. Mattheo's hand gently rubs his back as they sit in silence as he cries. He's grateful Matt doesn't try to help by speaking, the gentle piano filling his ears like a warm hug after being lost in the cold for days with no reprieve.

The silent sobs eventually slow, his body no longer shaking from the force of them. And weirdly, he feels better. He’s spent his whole life being told that men don’t cry, especially pureblood wizards of their status, so when the weight comes off his chest he’s shocked at how easy it is to just breathe. 

He pulls his head up to look at Matt, who isn’t looking directly at him but keeps his hand on Theo’s back. A soft murmured, “thanks,” passes his lips and causes the curly haired boy to return his attention to him. Mattheo doesn’t comment on how red and tear-stained his eyes are, much to Theo’s relief. 

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Mattheo hesitates before speaking again, “you don’t have to listen to me, cause what do I know, but I think you should talk to him.” Theo thinks back to you, how lost and hurt you looked when he ran from the library and he sighs. 

“When did you get so wise?”

Mattheo shrugs, “we’ve all had to grow up pretty fast…you’re my best mate Theo. It sucks seeing you like this, y'know?” He lightly nudges Theo’s shoulder, “kinda ruins the vibe.”

Theo can’t help but chuckle, “you’re an idiot.”

“And here I thought I was wise.”

“I was wrong, you’re fully a dumbass.”

“Nah, that’s Enz. But seriously, talk to him. We’re all tired of you pretending this isn’t something you want, whether you realize it or not.”

Theodore reluctantly nods, “fine. Fine, you’re right. I think I like my, what did you call him? Little badger?”

Mattheo grins and shifts away from Theo, looking a bit too happy for a man that just watched his friend cry over a crush.

“What are you so cheery about?” Theo raises an eyebrow as Mattheo gets up to return to the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo throws a smirk over his shoulder as he lingers at the top of the stairs, “Enzo owes me a hundred galleons.”

“Wait! You two idioti bet on this?!”

Despite feeling somewhat better after his talk with Matt, Theo avoids you for the rest of the week. Come Wednesday morning, he’s sliding into the seat next to Mattheo in History of Magic, ignoring Enzo’s annoyed “Hey!” in protest and Mattheo’s side-eye.

He doesn’t turn around to see the disappointed look on your face as your books softly thunk on the desk behind him where you two usually sat. But he doesn’t miss the lack of usual flair the sound has. His heart aches.

“Riddle said you’d be in here.”

Your voice breaks through Theodore’s thoughts, pulling his eyes toward you walking up the steps and over to him.

He'd been finding himself coming back to the music room over and over again since he started avoiding you. He wasn't entirely sure why, maybe he just wanted to stop the dull ache of loneliness in the absence of you. He pushes the thought out of his mind.

You settle down on the rug next to him, jarringly similar to the position he'd been in with Mattheo a week ago. Only you were further away, and while he couldn't blame you, he hated it.

“Sorry for kissing you so suddenly, I just—I’d been wanting to for like a month and I guess I was hoping you wanted it too. I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

He quickly shakes his head, “no, don’t apologize, it was—I liked it. I’m sorry for running off like that. I think I got…overwhelmed. I didn’t exactly know I was, y’know, into guys before…you.” He forces it out despite his embarrassment, cheeks a light shade of pink.

You look at him with a small, somewhat sad smile, “it’s fine. Kinda reminds me of that day we properly met in Hogsmeade. You ran then too.” You pause briefly before adding, “and don’t worry about it, this is new for me too.”

Theo flushes more intensely at the memory as you turn your head to look around the music room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before. Riddle had to give me directions...Why here?”

His mouth goes dry as he stares at you. “My, uh, my mum used to play the piano. She tried to teach me, but I couldn’t fully get it before…” he trails off for a moment before pushing past it, “I come here to feel close to her.”

A look of realization passes over your face, “oh, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

A hesitant hand reaches out to rest on his knee. He didn’t even realize he’d relaxed his legs down from his chest. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, Teddy—”

He gasps at the nickname, soft and filled with raw emotion. “I want to.”

“She was… the only person I felt truly got me, before Mattheo at least. And she uh, she used to call me Teddy. So since she—” he hesitates, the finality of it all hitting him at once like it’s the first time he heard the news all over again, “since she died, I haven’t let anyone call me that.”

He sees the way your eyes soften further, but it’s not from pity, like he’d come to expect from the topic, no, it’s deeper than that. It’s empathy. “I didn’t know,” your voice is quiet, like you’re about to apologize, but truthfully that’s the last thing he wants. So he keeps speaking.

“She would have loved you.” His hand shifts to rest over yours, still on his leg. “She would have loved how…happy you make me. So, I want you to call me Teddy, please.” It comes out a bit more desperate than he intended, but when did anything ever go as planned when it came to you?

But you don’t run. You don’t look at him in disgust for showing emotion. You just nod with a soft, “okay Teddy.”

And god, that fluttering sensation is back. A small smile tugs on his lips; before he knows it he’s leaning forward, needing to be closer, as close as you’ll possibly let him. And this time, without any guilt or shame or fear, he kisses you.

And he feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in your lips, in your scent, in you. Like water filling his lungs, it burns so sweet. Surrender to the unknown, letting his lingering heartache and worries about his father’s expectations go until all that’s left is you.

It’s pure bliss. 

As your lips move together in sync, his body heats up and he finds himself craving more. He’s just received a taste, but he can already tell he’s going to be insatiable; the need to devour you, to become one with your very essence, is overwhelming. But he doesn’t run away. He pushes deeper. 

He feels your hand cupping his face, almost to steady yourself from falling over as his tongue brushes against your lips, begging, pleading for mercy. Like he’ll fall apart if you don’t let him explore every inch of you. Your lips part. 

Tongues dancing together, he pushes you down until your back hits the rug, his torso hovering over yours as his hands on either side of you hold him up. Your fingers caress his cheek, touch featherlight. 

The kiss lasts until neither of you can breathe, parting only to gasp and pant, inches from each other’s face. You suddenly laugh, a sweet sound that rivals the room’s quiet piano in its beauty.

“You’re still here,” your eyes search his, like you’re trying to find doubt in them, but there is none. He wants to kiss you like that for the rest of his life.

“I don’t think I’m scared anymore.”

Your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him back into another kiss catches him off guard, but he melts into it like his body was made to meld with yours. It’s soft and sweet and feels like home.

The next morning at breakfast, you’re sitting next to him like you belong at the Slytherin table, at his side and getting acquainted with his friends. Enzo’s in the middle of asking you for details on which Hufflepuffs have the best weed when Draco comes over and sits down, an apprehensive look on his face. “I suppose this is something you just expect us to get used to?” 

“Yes.” It’s Mattheo who speaks, grabbing a bit of toast off Draco’s plate and taking a bite. “He makes Theo happy, he’s one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

Enzo pipes up from beside him, “I’ll do anything to never have to listen to Theo hopelessly pine like that ever again.”

Draco huffs and as Theo’s about to say something, he hears you laugh softly next to him as your hand gently squeezes his thigh. “Just gonna have to live with some yellow brightening your mornings, Malfoy.” The other two boys snicker at the defeated look on Draco’s face and start to tease him that he’s just jealous Nott grew a pair and managed to ask someone out. But Theo barely notices.

He presses a kiss to your temple, heart fluttering as you grin up at him and for the first time in a long time, he’s happy.

[waitforyrlove]

slytherin ! matt catches reader in his room after losing a bet.

PART TWO.

you curse yourself for agreeing to this ridiculous bet. It had seemed like harmless fun at the time, something to get your friends off your back about always playing it safe. But now, standing outside the threshold of the Slytherin common room, you question every decision that’s led you here.

the heavy stone wall slides shut behind you, leaving you in the dimly lit space that exudes an unsettling elegance. Green light filters through the lake’s murky waters outside the windows, casting long shadows across the plush sofas and polished floors. Every creak beneath your feet feels deafening in the eerie quiet.

your heart pounds. You’re not supposed to be here. And yet, the terms of the bet were clear: sneak into Matt’s space and return with proof. A book, a quill or anything to show you’d been there.

you’d lost the game, and now here you are.

the room smells faintly of aged leather and something crisp, like winter air. You tread carefully, trying to make out which door might lead to the boys’ dormitory. Somewhere above you, the faint sound of laughter echoes—probably from students lingering in the upper common room.

you’re halfway across the room when a voice freezes you in your tracks.

“Planning to redecorate, are we?”

you spin around so fast you nearly trip over your own feet. Matt leans against the far wall, his green-and-silver tie undone, his robes draped casually over one shoulder. His eyes glint with amusement, but his smirk is razor-sharp.

“What—what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, pushing off the wall and taking a lazy step toward you. His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, like a cat toying with a mouse. “This doesn’t seem like your scene, sweetheart.”

you resist the urge to back away as he closes the distance between you, though your pulse is thrumming in your ears. “I was just—uh—looking for something.”

“Looking for something,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t believe you for a second. “Let me guess: your houses tradition? Break into the Slytherin common room and hope you don’t get caught?”

you flinch. He’s far too close now, his presence making the space feel smaller. His dark green jumper clings to his broad shoulders, and you can’t help but notice the faint, woodsy scent that clings to him.

“No..” you say, a little too quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he asks, crossing his arms. The amusement is still there, but his tone is sharper now, his gaze probing. “Careful how you answer, love. You’re already on thin ice.”

you hesitate, weighing your options. Lying to him feels impossible under his scrutiny. His eyes seem to see straight through you, as though he already knows why you’re here and is just waiting for you to admit it.

finally, you sigh. “Fine. It’s a bet, okay?” you admit, crossing your arms defensively. “I lost a bet, and now I’m here. Happy?”

his smirk widens, “I’m ecstatic. Go on, then. What’s the dare? Break into my dorm? Steal my favorite book? Something embarrassing, I hope.”

“Just… find something that proves I was here,” you mutter, your cheeks burning.

Matt’s laugh is low and warm, but there’s something dangerous about it. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Can I go now?” you ask exasperated.

“Not so fast,” He steps even closer, until you can feel the heat radiating off him. “You think you can just waltz in here, invade my space, and leave without consequences?”

“What do you mean, consequences?”

he tilts his head, pretending to think. “I could report you, you know. Breaking into the Slytherin common room? That’s grounds for a nice, long chat with the fuckin’ professors.”

“Matt, come on—”

“Or,” he interrupts, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “we could make our own bet.”

“What kind of bet?”

“I’ll let you off the hook—no detention, no tattling to your head of house—but you owe me. I haven’t decided what yet, but when I do, you’ll agree. No arguments.”

you hesitate, weighing your options. The alternative—a full-blown scandal and possible expulsion—isn’t exactly appealing.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “Deal.”

“Gooood girl,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. He steps back, giving you just enough room to breathe, though his eyes never leave yours.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he adds, his smirk deepening. “If you’re ever stupid enough to pull a stunt like this again… don’t expect me to be so fucking forgiving just like I was.”

with that, he turns and saunters off toward the dormitory stairs, leaving you standing there, equal parts relieved and humiliated.

as you make your way back to your own common room, you can’t help but feel that somehow, you’ve just lost another bet.

this was nowhere close to ending.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

taglist: @secretlocket @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz @emely9274 @sturniolossss @sturnioloangell

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author˙— giggles, giggles..

[ifyoucandaniel]

exactly one person asked and i’ve been DYING to make this, so here are all of my favorite long batman fanfics in general and for new readers @twisted-tales-told :)

cards on the table by @wesslan ! 69k, completed. this is one of my all time favorite fanfictions, it’s so funny and tim is a mastermind genius and a little liar <3 he basically pretends to be a fortune teller and gives scarily good predictions and advice by stalking the upper class and eventually gets involved with the batfam and has to maintain his lies while dealing with his issues :) 10/10, very found family, good angst, so much lying

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone , 221k, ongoing. this is a batman fanfic rec, of course my bbg dark matter is going to be here <3 this is a MCUxDCU crossover where after infinity war (spoilers for that if you haven’t seen it!) peter parker gets sent to the DCU dimension with part of the soul stone and basically is haunted by the ghosts of the avengers while trying to survive in gotham and get back to his dimension. this is so well written i’ve read it at least three times, it’s still ongoing but trust me it is SO GOOD. i can’t properly describe it, but if you like spider-man and you are interested in batman, you’ll love.

Red is the Color of Sinners by @bluelotuswrites , series, 120k, ongoing, M. i want you to look me in my eyes when i tell you this is my favorite series on ao3. it is set after under the red hood and daredevil 3 where jason and matt meet in a church after jason loses his ability to speak following the events of UTRH. they keep running into each other both as matt and daredevil and eventually jason begins helping matt out with injuries and tech. it’s not finished yet, but there is something so compelling about their dynamic in this series as well as jason’s overall character and how he is portrayed. i’m a sucker for mute jason after UTRH and this series does so well giving him a fresh start and a place away from gotham to heal and build relationships. i cannot recommend enough.

buy back the secrets by @vinelark , 71k, ongoing, T. THIS!!! oh my god, so this is a timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but whenever he’s in trouble tim calls for superboy which leads to them meeting without kon knowing. shenanigans ensure when kon starts spending more time with tim! it’s still ongoing but the author is currently working on the next part and it is so so worth the wait. chapter 4 ends on a cliffhanger though so be warned :))

Sales People Know (listening is the most important part) by Mayhem10, 77k, completed, T. this has the coolest urban magical realism ever. tim basically runs this magic shop that shows up places and people who need something find it in his shop :) it’s kinda a slow burn found family fic with magic themes and a smidge of angst!

Retrograde Motion by Lysical, 112k, completed, T. this is best de-aged kid fic ever. jason gets turned into a 7 year old and basically the outlaws, artemis and biz, join forces with the batfam to take care of him. but trust me when i say this is worth your time, it might sound tropey but in the best way possible!! and jason’s relationship with artemis is sooo important to me in this!

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by britishparty, 54k, completed, M. this is one of the best psychological torture/grooming fics i’ve ever read. pretty much what if while our taking photos of batman and robin, little tim gets kidnapped and black mask gets his hands on him and decides he’s the perfect size for a protege. years of psychological abuse and insane mind games ensue. also tim is a Badass™️

If He Had Come by bronwe_iris, 45k, completed, T. so i’m a little freak and i love the angst of arkham knight jason, but more specifically the aus where bruce saves jason before he becomes the arkham knight! this is an au where bruce finds jason and saves him from the joker after 9 months of torture and brings him home. focuses on his healing mentally and physically and rebuilding his relationship with his family

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee), 43k, completed, T. veeeery good angst. basically what if tim couldn’t die? 43k of tim drake whump where he just dies a bajillion times and eventually his family notices <3

The Birds: Hatching a Family by Oceanera12, 81k, completed, T. this is like “what if the batkids weren’t adopted by bruce, but instead they were all foster siblings who can’t seem to stay out of gotham at night and batman happens to find them and decides obviously he can’t leave these kids to their own business, he has to stick his nose in it” and there’s some angst and heaps of found family

The Hellblazer’s Apprentice by @bluelotuswrites, 29k, ongoing, M. what can i say, im a simple woman, i love to see jason with literally any older male mentor :) basically in UTRH what if he took up an apprenticeship under constantine to learn magic to piss off batman! so good, i really love constantine so seeing him and jason interact in a long fic is so good. also ALL BLADES JASON TODD SAVE ME… ALL BLADES JASON TODD-

something in the static by bonerot19, 101k, ongoing series with three main completed works, T. this is a jason centric series where jason still lives in crime alley with his mom and dad and never stole the batmobile tires. it follows his life in crime alley with an addict mom and an abusive dad and one night when his dad is whaling on him nightwing finds him and the bats just can’t seem to leave him alone after that. steph is his neighbor and best friend also and their relationship is so good. this is a “what if jason took a different way home to the wayne’s” fic series and i love it so much <3

catch the asteroids that come your way by ThePackWantsTheD, 54k, completed, T. i don’t read a lot of ships in the batman fandom i’m sorry, but this kyle/jason one is sooo lovely. basically the two of them growing up together and falling in love and then dealing with the aftermath of A Death in the Family and finding each other again :) really sweet and nice!

hope you find something you like! i realized the majority of these are tim or jason centric, and i love them all dearly, but if anyone has any recs for long fics focusing on any of the other batkids lmk! and any other recs in general, i am a fiend for new fics

[writingsbychlo]

LAST NIGHT | mattheo riddle

summary; on again, off again, you and mattheo have always gone round and round in circles, but this is the last time.

word count; 3962

notes; based on this song! my first ever mattheo fic, or even slytherin boy fic, so hope you enjoy, sorry if it sucks lmao <3

“I’m done, Mattheo!” Your voice bounced off the walls, giving the half-arsed silencing spell you’d cast two hours ago a run for its money. “I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up of your attitude, and your bullshit, and the way you just don’t seem to care about anything!”

“Oh, you’re done?” He mocks, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he sits on the windowsill, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke out into the night air. 

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Bullshit. You say that every other week. What is this, our fourth breakup this year? Fifth?” Stubbing out what was left on the stone wall, he flicked the butt out into the darkness, finally swinging his legs back to the floor and turning to face you. “You had no problem with my carefree attitude and my bullshit and my laidback nature when we started dating. Why are you throwing a hissy fit now, what’s this really about, huh?”

Your jaw clenched, clenched so hard it hurt. He smirked at that, wider when your fists balled by your sides, and he took an arrogant swig of the firewhiskey the two of you had been splitting. The very drink that had given you the courage to do this in the first place. 

“Nothing to say, then? That’s what I thought.”

“Mattheo—”

“Storm your pretty arse out the door, love. Slam it, like you always do. You’ll come back in the middle of the night, like you always do, and I’ll be here waiting for you.” A lump caught in your throat, and the fiery anger in your body settled into a cool rage. 

“It’s different this time, Mattheo. When we started dating in the fifth year, nothing but having a date to Yule Ball mattered, but we’re two months from graduation, and you— you’re hopeless. We’re hopeless.” His brows pinched, a snarl taking over his features at your harsh words and the small seed of victory was squashed by the tension building in the air. “You won’t tell me anything about our future, about your own and if I even have a place in it. You won’t make plans, you’re barely even passing your classes and you don’t care. It’s been years, Matt, and you still treat me like I’m just some fun.”

“Exclusive fun. At least I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He smirked again around the words, throat bobbing as he swigged at the whiskey, a golden drop leaking down his chin and your hands itched to wipe it away. “You knew who I was when we met.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice cracked, and just like that, a gaping cavern seemed to split through all those emotions, leaving a feeling of hollow, cold numbness to fill your chest in its place. So wide it was dark, echoes of feelings bouncing on stone walls, and you rubbed over your chest. “But I wish you were someone I never met.”

Silence filled the space between you both, airtight like the oxygen was starting to thin. “You wish I was someone you never met?”

“Yes.” Your voice shook even as you said it, the glass bottle clinked on the stone ledge as he set the bottle down. His shoes scuffed on the floor, as he made his way over to you, long strides that you matched backwards, until your back was pressed to the door. “Mattheo.”

His hands slammed onto the wood on either side of you, crowding you until your noses were brushing, the warmth of his body seeping into you. His voice was like a growl, skittering along your body like a reverberation as he spoke, “You wish you never met me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” He cut you off, your shoulders slumping in defeat as that red in his gaze took over. There was no sentience now, nothing to be said, not as your hand slipped across the wood towards the doorknob behind you. The time for talking was over, there was nothing left to be said now.

He was right. 

He knew you far too well. Just like every other time, you wanted to storm out, slamming the door and cursing his name, promising you’d never go back. Just like every other time, you’d end up coming back to him, over and over again, a vicious circle where you crawl back into his bed, and he whispers sweet things in your ear that never come true, and you go on like it never happened. 

Over and over and over. 

You released the doorknob, his eyes searching your own, and instead, you gripped his jaw. He startled, even more when you yanked his mouth down to yours, hands sliding around until you were pulling yourself up to his height. He groaned, a deep sound as his mouth opened against your own, wet and needy with desperate kisses. 

His body collapsed against yours, pinning you to the door, only interrupted by his own arms sliding around your waist, bodies flush and racing hearts pounding together through your chests.

“See, isn’t this so much better?” He muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your head tipped back to rest on the wood, his mouth beginning to make tracks along your jaw instead. “When you just shut up and stop overthinking, and let things go how they work, huh?”

That same hot mouth continued its path, your breath shallowing as he kissed down and down, wet tongue licking across your collarbones and the swell of your tits. Rough hands pushed up at your shirt, bunching the fabric up as your shaky hands attempted to undo the buttons, falling into every touch and lie that came from his mouth. 

Just like always, you fell into his trap, like a bee to honey, he knew every weakness. Dropping to his knees before you, pretty brown eyes all but sparkled as he smirked up, glittering with victory. His tongue laved over the soft skin below your belly button, tracing the edge of your skirt, fingers toying with the hem line when your own laced into the soft brown curls, pushing them back. 

“Matty…”

“That’s right, baby.” Another wet kiss to your stomach, one sensual enough to leave your back arching against the wood, pushing closer to him as his hands dipped under the skirt to find the sides of your panties. Peeling them slowly down your legs, he propped his chin on the soft pudge of your stomach, peering up. “The only thing that mouth should be screaming at me is prayers to God and begs of my name.”

Your scoff was lost to a moan as he slapped the tender back of one thigh, skin stinging, the welts that would be left by the cold rings decorating his fingers only made you tremble with further excitement, further need. Need for him, desperation for the man who knew you so well, like the back of his hand. Every touch, every tell, every weakness exploited was by design and knowledge. 

“You want my mouth, baby? Say it. Tell me what you want.” A nip to the inside of one thigh, delicate skin abused by teeth and lips, a bruise there he would leave so proudly. 

“I want your mouth.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Tell me, who would make you come like I can if you left me, huh?” 

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, stinging words with a bitter bite, ready to chew his head off once more for his arrogance, but it all died away as your head thumped back on the door. His tongue swept through your folds, head hidden under the pleats of your skirt as he lapped from your entrance to your clit, hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he moaned. 

He wasn’t gentle, nor was he patient, not as he set to work on something he enjoyed just as much as you did. His tongue worked you over, your thighs trembling on either side of his head as he licked and swirled, fingers sliding up the sides of your legs. You didn’t want to speak, to give him the satisfaction of rewarding him for his effort, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

He took it as the challenge it was, growling against your core, the vibrations shaking along your spine and lighting you up like fireworks in the crisp night air, sparking you to life like a fuse. He doubled down on his efforts, wet and messy, pulling on every trick he knew you loved, tongue sinking into your hole just to pull back as you clenched, teasing and taunting until you were dizzy. 

Sucking on your clit until your knees shook, almost threatening to give way, he sank one finger into your dripping cunt, and your pledge for silence gave way, a loud cry slipping from you and bouncing around the room. He nipped at your sensitive clit to celebrate his own victory, a squeaky sound escaping at the sensation, and your nails scratched into the wood of the door, doubtless leaving claw-marks he’d never let you live down. 

That one finger became two, scissoring and curling until you could no longer take it, exploding around his digits with frantic rolls of your hips into his hand. He let you ride it out, never letting up, never stopping his assault, your body spasming under his hold until he was pulling back, other hand pinning your hips to the door. 

Your legs finally gave way, only held up by the support of his body as he kept you locked where you were, slamming those fingers in and out of you until you were begging. Begging for another release, begging for reprieve, begging for anything at all, as he barrelled you towards another orgasm. 

When this one struck it was with a scream, with a burning heat so intense you thought your clothes might turn to ash on your very skin, melt away into nothing the same way every thought in your head had managed to do. 

He finally pulled back, slick and shining fingers going straight to his mouth as his body supported your own, one hand slipping to your hip and holding you tight, steadying you against the door until your shaking breaths evened out. 

The taste of yourself was still on his tongue as his mouth crashed into your own, your shaking hands nothing like his steady ones as the two of you tore at one another’s clothing, stumbling together in a tangle of limbs and kisses towards the bed. Stripping on another of clothes in rough movements and angry tugs and rips, until you were bare, his hot cock pressing to your stomach, smearing precum over your skin and letting you know just how much he wanted you. 

He may have you fucked stupid, wrapped around his little finger, but at least you knew you had him in that same helpless grip. 

Reaching between your bodies and taking his hard cock in hand, he let out a stuttered moan at the first pump, the drag of his flesh in your hand, precum spilling out over your fingers in a sticky trail. His need tasted like sin on your lips, your name a mumbled praise that sounded like a curse as you pumped him slowly, his hands flexing so tightly on your hips they’d no doubt leave tainted marks. 

“Fucking hell, baby. Gonna’ fuck you so good, gonna’ fuck you ‘til you remember some sense, ‘til you’re screaming the way only I can make you.” With one rough shove, you were spilling out across his mattress, gripping the sheets with your fingertips as he crawled up and over you. 

A quick movement and you were flipped, finding yourself face down into the bedsheets, his weight pressing into you at every angle from above, and then—

Then the stretch, the slow drag as he sank into you, joint moans as he gave you no time to adjust. The burning rage in his veins drove him into you until your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing cock stretching out every wall within you to that delicious brink between pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck, Mattheo…”

“Don’t say my name again tonight unless you’re fucking screaming it.” He pulled back, snapping his hips into your own with such brutality that the sound echoed around the room, your fingers screwed into the sheets practically turning white-knuckled with how your body tensed and shuddered. He did it again and again, slamming into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs every time. “I’m still so goddamn mad at you, but you’re just too hot when you yell at me.”

“Fuck you.” Your words didn’t have nearly as much vitriol as you wanted, not when they were muttered out into the sheets as your face pressed into them, drool on your lips from every slam of his cock into you. He caught them though, fingers lacing into your hair and yanking your head up, the pace never slowing, even as his body covered your own, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I already am, sweetheart. You just can’t help yourself, giving yourself over to me even when you’re mad. My pretty little slut.”

A particularly sharp thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as every other feeling seemed to melt away until only the pound of his hips into your own was left. You could feel him everywhere, outside and inside, as he filled your every thought and every cell. It had always been like this, utterly intoxicating with him since that very first kiss, the moment those captivating eyes had locked on your own and you’d been tangled in the web that was Mattheo Riddle. 

The first scream slipped free from your lips as his hand came down across your arse with a slap, a condescending chuckle followed it and he rewarded you with an extra hard squeeze. Driving into you with renewed force, he left a matching handprint on the other side, and you cried out his name with cracked voice. “That’s right, fucking take what I give you.”

“Mattheo!”

His name was like a chant now, unstoppable as pleasure swelled and built inside of you, brain going foggy and his name the only thing that was clear, His touch was grounding but his kisses were like a drug, trailed along your shoulder and spine as he smothered you into the mattress, tears building in your eyes with the delicious overwhelm of it all. 

Trembling, shaking, your body was hardly your own as you squirmed beneath him, pushed down into the bed as tears wet the sheets from your eyes, used like a whore and loving every second of it. 

Another peak was building, the tangling in your stomach a telltale sign as your body tensed under his touch, like an instrument he knew just how to play as his fingers skated along your body, tweaking nipples and travelling down to your clit, harsh circles rubbed into the swollen bud.

With only a couple of unsteady circles, you exploded, screaming his name just as he promised you would heat flaring through you, sweat slick between your bodies. 

His lips left sloppy kisses along your neck as he never let up, only stopping enough to pull back, and leave you for just a second as a trembling mess on the sheets. Long enough to flip you over, to push your knees up until they were almost to your chest, hooked over his shoulders as he sank back into your wetness. 

Your hands were shaking, coming up to grip at his biceps, half-lidded gaze locked on that fiery stare of his own, even when his forehead came down to press to your own. Your nails tore welts into his arm, a pleasured hiss on his lips and his hips stuttered, lips tugging up at the edges in a pain-fuelled smirk of sheer bliss.

“God, look at you. My perfect girl, and this perfect pussy grippin’ me so good. I fucking love you, and you love me.” You could only muster a whine in reply, arching your back until your nipples brushed his chest, the added stimulation making your eyes roll back in your head, shuddering right down to every last nerve you had. 

“Mattheo…” Your voice was raw, unable to scream anymore, and a sick gratification flashed over his features, open mouth brushing yours, letting you swallow every moan he let out. 

His hips rolled, the fluttering and spasming of your inner walls sending him toppling over the edge, and with one last rough stutter of his hips into you he stilled. Bracketed between your thighs his weight collapsed atop you, heat flooding your core as he spilled into you, pump after pump, the aftershocks of your orgasm reigniting a little at the feeling, drawing out until you tingled right down to your fingertips. 

If you’d had any strength at all, any ability to even move, you’d shove him off of you, roll away from him out of his grip. Instead, he lay against you, panting, tracing his fingertips softly up and down your ribs in that way he knew you loved, until he’d gained enough of his own strength to push himself up. 

A whimper slipped free from your lips as he pulled out, wetness leaking from you immediately in his absence, goosebumps covering your skin as his body peeled away from your own. Kneeling back between your aching thighs, Mattheo’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk as he eyed the mess he’d left between your thighs, only growling at the embarrassed flush that covered your body as you attempted to snap your legs shut. 

That burning look of anger and passion still flared somewhat in his eyes, no longer a blazing inferno but lingering enough like smouldering ashes, and he barely bothered to reach over the side of the bed and snatch up his abandoned shirt, tossing it onto your chest for you to clean yourself up. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he propped one bent arm behind his head, rolling onto his side and watching you mop between your thighs with amusement, snickering at the sensitive gasps that occasionally slipped free. 

When you were done, his arm snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to face him as you tossed the ruined shirt down onto the floor somewhere to be cared for later. Sometimes he’d light up a cigarette at this moment, in others, he’d pull the hidden bottle of firewhiskey from under his mattress and take a mouthful. Today was one of the rare occasions when he did neither, settling into your side with a smile on his face, eyes slipping closed and he nuzzled half of his face into the pillow on your side.

Your eyes remained open, though. Studying him. It was no wonder you had caved so many times, no wonder it had been so easy every other time to fall into his arms, to believe all his embellished promises and pretty words. So easy to stay, when he looked like an angel, innocent and sweet and kind, with half a smile on his face and an adorably possessive arm over your waist as you cuddled into him. It was just like every other time you’d caved to him. 

But not this time. 

No, for once, you’d be strong. You’d endure the pain of leaving him, endure the suffering of being without him if it meant being happy, being healthy, being the kind of woman a daughter could look up to one day. You would never let your own child, your friends or family endure this kind of toxicity, so why did you continue to allow it for yourself?

No more handsome smiles and golden eyes drawing you back in. 

It was as you were making this decision, taking a bracing, deep breath, that his eyes cracked back open, focusing on where you lay mere centimetres from him. Staring at you from a shared spot on the same pillow, he gave a hint of a smile in the dim lighting of the room, eyes sparkling, like things might really be different this time. 

You’d fallen for it one too many times. 

His lips puckered slightly, expectant for a kiss, and your own lips pressed together, resisting the urge to find his. Instead, you rolled over, throat stinging and eyes burning as you faced away from him, sliding out of the bed. The stone was cold under your feet as they hit the floor, every step from the comforting warmth of the sheets was like stepping into the Arctic. 

“Why are you not in bed right now?” Mattheo groaned, and you heard the sheets rustle as you gathered your clothes. He rolled in the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest instead, an amused look on his face. “You don’t need clothes, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

Tugging on your shirt, you only bothered with two buttons, his brows rising and smile beginning to dim, as you tugged on your skirt and yanked up the zip. Socks didn’t matter, nor did your tie, shoving them into the pockets of your robe, and he propped himself up among the pillows. 

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“This again?” He said, still not taking you seriously. His messy hair, swollen lips, those pretty brown eyes, it was all so hard to resist. The frown on his face, the disbelief in your conviction, less so. “Stop being ridiculous and come back here. You’ve made your point, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Whatever.”

“No, Mattheo. That’s just it.” Finding your shoes and scooping them up, your toes flexed on the cold floor, a protest at the cold, but you’d make it back to your room before they got frostbite. “You won’t change. You never change. I’m not doing this again.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you were right.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing over his face at your concession. “I always leave, and right about this time, I always come back, and crawl into your bed, and I’m not doing this again. This time it��s different. This time it’s over, Mattheo.”

“It can’t be over.”

“But it is. This is the best decision for us both, really.”

“I think I should have been part of a decision that's in my interests, then!” He burst, scrambling across the sheets and standing himself, beginning to tug on his own clothes. “We’re not over. We can’t be, you don’t mean that.”

“Mattheo, stop.” He did, pants sitting low on his hips, unbuttoned as his hands fell slack to his sides instead. “Just, give it some thought. You’ll see, I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Sleep on it.” You couldn't do it anymore, any longer and you’d give in like always, fall into his arms and let him temporarily kiss it better. 

“I’m still gonna’ wake up wanting you and me.”

You sighed, hand closing around the door handle again. This time, you had the strength to open it. For once, you truly felt like he was listening to you, like the threat of leaving was at last finding its home within him. He was hearing it. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered as you stepped into the hall, the silencing spell crumbling around you as you left the bubble, and the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The howl of the wind outside, the shuffle of midnight wanderers in the common room, and owls hooting to the moon, all fill the empty space. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Become something worth staying for, and I’ll keep loving you too.”

[mattsdae]

everytime i see a video from the nyc subway, i wonder how much of that bs matt’s witnessed during his daily commute

[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt3

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

WE HAVE CONTACT YALL

the idea of you and matt doing this whole fake dating thing was disgusting to you, but the look of complete and utter rage on jessica levries face when you walked past her with her ex boyfriends hand in the back pocket of your jeans, made you want to marry him on the spot.

the whole morning on the way to school with matt, after he insisted that he picked you up, had been complete chaos. the 10 minute car ride consisted of you screaming at him about how you regret agreeing to this, how he made you want to vomit and how you hated him and matt screaming back how annoying, how selfish you are, and how the sound of your voice made him wanna rip his own throte out.

but any outsider looking in would be jealous of the way matt smiled down at you with loving eyes as you walked down the hall, past jess, past your brother and everyone else watching and how he kissed your temple and whispered “good job” before smiling at you and walking away to head to class, leaving you in a state of utter confusion.

how had he pulled that off so well? you were a complete train wreck, sweating from head to toe, hands shaking all because of this stupid agreement, and matt just breezed right through while looking at you like you were the mother of his children.

you stood there staring at where matts body used to be before feeling someone yanking your arm to get your attention.

shit.

“what the actual fuck was that?” god if you’re listening. please spare me.

“i mean matt sturniolo? come on y/n your better than this” your brother said as you turned to face him.

you couldn’t even speak. you just swallowed and shrugged at him.

play it cool y/n.

“do mom and dad know about this?” he questioned.

“no caden” you sighed. beginning to walk away from him but he followed close behind.

“this is low y/n. you’re dating this guy? he has tattoos and shit, he smokes weed like every day and constantly turns up to practice stoned as hell” he explained. shit. how could you forget. they’re on the same fucking hockey team.

“i mean chris? maybe id let that slide, he’s a good guy. you picked the wrong fucking brother y/n” he laughed. you just closed your eyes and took a deep breath, continuing on your walk to class, trying not to turn around and murder him.

“if i’m-“ you turned around abruptly, stopping him in his tracks.

“are we forgetting that you’ve slept with half of this school? no right so keep your opinions to yourself. all i wanna know is if your gonna tell mom and dad or not” you breathed before looking at him.

“if i told them that would get you in a bunch of trouble y/n” he said before leaning down to your eye level and placing a hand on your shoulder. “of course i’m gonna fucking tell them” he said standing back up to laugh.

you bit back a smile, trying to keep your poker face before rolling your eyes and stomping away. the plan was in motion.

imesssage

matt: where are you?

y/n: in english.

matt: meet me outside of mr wilson’s class

y/n: no i don’t wanna see your ugly revolting face.

matt: don’t talk about yourself that way sweetheart.

matt: see you in 5.

douche bag.

“took your time. i was beginning to think i was getting stood up” matt said, watching you walk towards him with his hands in his pockets.

“gotta keep you on your toes” you said, coming to a stop, and looking up at him.

“i have a game on saturday and your coming to watch” he stated, licking his lips.

you crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows at him.

“are you asking me or telling me?” you questioned, looking at him as his eyes darted to something behind you, then back to yours.

“telling you” he stated flatly, beginning to chew on his lip, averting his eyes back to whatever it was behind you that was so fascinating.

“then in that case i’m not going” he didn’t even reply. you had expected a shitty comment or at least an eye roll, but he didn’t even acknowledge you as you stared at him.

“what are you looking-“ you started before you were cut off by his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking you into a empty closet and closing the door behind him.

there was a brief pause as you both stood there and every single piece of confidence you had before was ripped away in that very moment when he sauntered towards you with a shit eating grin on his face, stopping when your chest touched his.

you just blinked up at him, swallowing thickly and waiting for his next move. your heart was beating out of your chest and you were pretty sure matt could hear it as he stared down at you, studying your face for a second, before speaking.

“what’s the matter sweetheart? do i make you nervous?” he whispered, as he suddenly moved his face to the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss over your skin, making you suck in a breath. you felt him smirk against you as he moved up to the spot below your ear, letting his mouth linger there for a second while bringing his hands up to rest on your hips. you couldn’t help but let your head tip back slightly while closing your eyes. how did he have this much of an effect on you?

matt continued his actions, proceeding to leave kisses on your skin, occasionally letting his tongue dart out, leaving you almost whining.

this was not what you agreed on. the deal was no kissing or anything like that, and here you were breathing heavy, gripping his arms, while damn near ready to jump this man’s bones in the janitors closet. how did he have this effect on you? the two of you hated each-other, so why was he making you so wet?

suddenly his hands moved up to your waist, squeezing slightly, causing your eyes to snap open, and whatever trance he had you in to break.

“what the fuck!” you exclaimed, pushing him off of you, causing him to stumble slightly.

“coconut, i like that” he said referring to your perfume while licking his lips with a smirk on his face.

“are you high?” he just grinned at your questioning ,yet heavily flustered, expression before opening his mouth to speak.

“high is an understatement” he muttered. you just scoffed and shook your head.

“fuck you matt” you hissed at him.

he couldn’t help but smirk again at your words, you had given him the perfect opportunity, pretty much setting yourself up for failure.

“anytime baby” he grinned down at you, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

you wanted to fucking scream and punch his stupid, sexy, chiselled face, but instead settled for waking straight past him and out the door, bumping his shoulder with yours, but if looks could kill, matt sturniolo would be nothing more than a walking fucking legacy.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @mattslolita @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @delimeats-000 @gloomymatt @gwenlore @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast @savageking3 @iammattsturniolo @sturniolos4lifee @honestlybabymiracle @jenna0rtegaswife @megamia44 @mattswifue @crazycoka @lilsstvrn

[hrtrey]

so sad bc i’m currently super obsessed with brian quinn i totally forgot about mattrey for a sec ummm