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lale-txt · 18 days ago

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❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it.

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once.

What a blatant lie.

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk.

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity.

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him.

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again.

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering.

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you.

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently.

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him.

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone.

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question.

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better.

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you.

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck.

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?”

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart.

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone.

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share.

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you.

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love.

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right?

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams.

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens.

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up.

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone.

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest.

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe.

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary.

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over.

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment.

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses.

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch.

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms.

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket.

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm.

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again.

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin.

“Damn right it is.”

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs.

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two.

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

#hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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maybank5 · 15 days ago

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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ a happy future fic, because we need some healing; jj on the beach with his family reflecting on his life.

a/n ⤜ how are we doing fam? me? not so well. this has been the hardest fictional moment that's ever hit me. i'm choosing to believe our boy is still off somewhere and gonna have the best, most fulfilled and loving future. sending hugs and love to each of you!!

song inspo ⤜ no song inspo for this one; but i did have 'nights in white satin' on repeat as i wrote

The sun is setting over the horizon, sinking down into the ocean and melting into streams of gold and orange against the shimmering water. JJ Maybank perches on his surf board for a moment, admiring it. He's never considered himself to be the most religious of people. Sure, he attended Sunday school as a kid, knows the bible stories decently enough; and yeah, there's times when he catches himself praying. Like the time John B got into that nasty accident, or when his son was born. There'd been complications, things had been touch and go for a moment. JJ had pressed his head against the glossy white wall of the hospital waiting area, hoping to God that things would be okay, as John B and Sarah rubbed his back comfortingly.

The one time JJ didn't pray might have been the one time he should. He'd been stabbed, by his son of a bitch father. Not Luke, the "real one" though JJ found it almost funny how he preferred to think of Luke fuckin' Maybank as his actual father. At least Luke had never tried to stab him. But that was beside the point; JJ had been stabbed, and things were not looking good. John B had felt for a pulse and had felt nothing. JJ can still remember the feeling of floating away, like riding a wave to the horizon. He hadn't prayed then. Instead, he'd made peace with his fate. He'd lived a pretty damn full life in 20 years, and if this was the end of it, so be it. At least on the other side, no one would be trying to hurt him, right? That sounded mighty nice to him. So he'd closed his eyes and let himself drift off towards that horizon.

Only instead, he'd woken up in a hospital, still very much alive. His best friends at his side. Pope and Kiara barely left his side, and John B had practically crawled into the bed with him to hold him in his arms until a nurse had yelled at him. JJ doesn't remember feeling such love until that moment. And that was when it all changed. He'd been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see just how loved and valued he is. He was never going to squander it or take it for granted again.

The sun is sinking lower, the water in front of him glittering in gold. JJ pushes his wet hair back off his forehead to admire it. Years ago he'd have just shrugged it off. Sunsets were a dime a dozen. Not anymore though. Now JJ takes the moment to sit and watch and appreciate.

He glances back to the shore, where his wife and baby are playing in the sand. Harley John Maybank's (it'd be a cold day in hell if JJ ever took the name of that man) new favorite thing was trying to rush to the water, his mom and dad hot on his heels. JJ could tell already that Harley was going to be a handful, and he couldn't fucking wait.

The waves were rising higher. It'd make for a sick surf tonight. JJ bites his lip, turns and paddles back to the shore. Some priorities rank higher than waves.

He tucks his board under his arm and hurries over to where the two of you are building a sandcastle with Harley's little castle-shaped buckets.

"Hey, baby," you glance up at your husband, reaching out and touching his cheek with his hand, always little assurances like that to make sure he's real, "Not surfing?"

"Nah," JJ shakes some water from his head, "Much rather'd build sand castles with this little one," he ruffles Harley's head of blonde hair, glistening in the sunlight.

You can't help but smile as he sinks down into the damp sand to help Harley stuff sand into his buckets. Moments like these is when it truly hits you, just how blessed you are.

JJ gently helps Harley, his eyes so soft and full of love and devotion. Harley John is his utmost pride and joy. He's always been soft with you, but the gentleness in which he treats your son is beyond anything you could imagine.

JJ packs the sand into the bucket with the back of a little plastic shovel. He wonders if maybe there was a time he'd done this as a boy, but shakes the thought from his head. It doesn't matter. He can do it now. He can do it with Harley.

"Sarah called earlier," your voice pulls JJ from his thoughts, "She and John B are going to have Baby Jackson christened. John B is supposed to ask you to be the godfather tomorrow, but Sarah couldn't wait to tell me. You know the two of them, it's not a church thing or anything. Just The Pogues and the ocean."

"Sounds nice," JJ says, wrapping his arms around Harley and pulling him softly onto his lap.

JJ reaches for your hand, pulling you to him as well. He presses a kiss the back of your hand, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. Nothing ever feels one hundred percent real unless JJ can feel it, touch it, revel in it. He tosses his head back as the evening breeze licks through his hair.

And in that moment, JJ can't help but stop and say thank you.

Because JJ Maybank lives every day in paradise.

#jj maybank #obx fic #obx imagine #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x yn #jj maybank x you #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx

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juletheghoul · 2 months ago

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too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay.

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you.

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day.

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.”

He nodded, leaving shortly after.

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you.

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check.

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony.

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat.

Your eyes would not leave his face.

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand.

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side.

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it.

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.”

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats.

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded.

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower.

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content.

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him.

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile.

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done.

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin.

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist.

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his.

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning.

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury.

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in.

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you.

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.”

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him.

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared.

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese.

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand.

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face.

“They are worth the effort.”

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought.

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.”

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.”

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?”

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day.

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought.

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him.

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you.

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting.

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption.

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.”

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin.

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft.

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly.

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs.

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.”

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.”

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open.

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled.

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state.

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh.

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs.

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done.

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself.

Things were different. He was different.

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you.

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms.

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go.

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away.

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs.

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities.

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory.

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands.

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious.

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.”

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes.

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand.

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him.

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms.

He tasted like the ocean.

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips.

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm.

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy.

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word.

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face.

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement.

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth.

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source.

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes.

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home.

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts.

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally.

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens.

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes.

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand.

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes.

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words.

“Call me Marcus.”

– Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

#marcus acacius #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #general marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x y/n #the general

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 26 days ago

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you’re all i want

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — fluff, talks of bad home life

summary — rafe comes home from a long day and wants nothing more than his girl.

a/n — hi guys!! should i write more smut or soft stuff? i literally have no idea and i enjoy writing both so i’d love to know which one you guys like reading more

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

tough love was all rafe had ever known. well, he considered it love. anyone else who saw the way his family treated him would describe it as anything and everything but love. he wasn’t perfect, like everyone else, and it seemed as if his parents made sure he knew that in the worst ways possible.

and as much as he wanted to please his father and show that he could step up and be perfect, it made him hate being home. he wouldn’t say that he hated ward because he knew he didn’t, more like envied him, but the way he treated him made him truly unhappy like never before. it felt like he would never be enough for anyone.

until he met you.

you were all soft touches and loving words. it made him dizzy when the two of you first met. knowing that you were so sweet to him and he was so undeserving of it made him want to curl up and breakdown. nothing he could do would ever make you lash out on him the way his father did. you were forever such a gentle person.

you’d comfort him for hours if thats what he needed, nurse him back to health when he was sick, and listen whenever he needed to say something. never once did you interrupt him and tell him he was insane or stupid, you just sat and listened while nodding along and clinging to every word he said. he’d never felt so understood until you.

it made him sick to his stomach that he couldn’t reciprocate those actions. he was never shown them therefore he had no clue how to do what you did. he tried his best to comfort you in the way you comforted him but it just felt so unnatural. yet you would always tell him how proud you were of him for branching out and trying. even if it was just a hug and a kiss to your forehead, mumbling “it’ll be okay,” when you were sad.

you’d always been proud of how much you watched him grow and he’d be lying if he said hearing that didn’t make him want to continue to better himself. he loved pleasing you and making you happy, but it was different than with ward. he didn’t do it for the validation or the rewards, he did it because seeing you happy was genuinely such a satisfying feeling for him and knowing he could repay you in some way for your kindness towards him made his heart full.

being able to come home to you in your shared home everyday after work was like a dream come true. it was like his life had done a complete 180 and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve you, but he made sure to pray every morning that you never left his side. he was a better person with you and he’d never been this happy.

and today was just another long day of working for his dads company. maybe it was the big workload or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about coming home to his beautiful girl, but the day had dragged on longer than usual. he wanted nothing more than to just be cuddled up beside you in bed.

he dropped his stuff on the couch when he walked into the house and locked the door. the house was oddly quiet and eerie. your car was out in the front so he assumed you were still home, unless you’d gone out with your friends.

he walked through the living room a kitchen but found it empty. he walked up the stairs and to your shared bedroom, finding you asleep on your stomach in your pretty pink sports bra that he loved, tucked under the blanket that was bunched up by your hips.

the sight made him smile at how peaceful and relaxed you looked. he almost didn’t want to disturb you. he quietly reached into his drawers and pulled out a pair of sweat pants before quickly changing and throwing his shirt off and to the hamper of dirty clothes then making his way over to his side of the bed.

he slowly placed his knee onto the mattress as it dipped beneath his weight while he leaned down and placed gentle kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulders. you stirred slightly and smiled in your sleep. “hi, rafe,” you mumbled groggily, still mostly asleep.

he laid down beside you and crawled under the covers, gently lifting them up your body further so you were warm. “hi beautiful,” he replied quietly as to not disturb you too much.

“was work okay?” you asked, rolling over to cuddle into his side and lay your head on his chest. his heartbeat was soothing to listen to.

he nodded even though you couldn’t see it and gently ran a hand through your hair by the crown of your head, stopping every now and then to massage your scalp. “mhm. was long but ‘ts okay. jus’ happy to be here with you.” you smiled even bigger looked up at him. you were so proud of how far he’d come. he’d gotten so much better at expressing his feelings lately. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before laying your head back down against his chest to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. the sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you back to sleep, making rafe’s heart throb with nothing but love. you looked so beautiful when in everything that you did.

he slipped the hand that was on your waist down underneath the covers and gently ran it up and down your back in a comforting motion. it made you sigh in your sleep and hug onto him tighter. he tilted his head to the side for a second to place a loving kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and attempting to find sleep himself.

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron obx #drew starkey #outerbanks rafe #outer banks

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tomriddleslove · 3 months ago

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61 letters.

✩ Mattheo x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hopefully this says i'm back with a bang? There are some TW but I don't want to spoil anything, so please scroll down to the bottom if you want to see those first.

Songs: Strangers - Ethel Cain

inspiration came to me from reading @dylsluvrs so please go read!!

The warmth from the fireplace crackled soothingly; a barely noticeable rhythm that lulled you to sleep as you leisurely turned the pages of your book, your free hand carding through Mattheo’s hair.

The distinctive smell of sandalwood and cigarettes came second to the scent of burning wood and old books - so hauntingly comfortable.

“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” He rasps, eyes also shut. It seemed he too was seconds away from falling asleep, his head resting in your lap.

It was perhaps the only time he could properly fall asleep. With you, that is. Sure, the fireplace was cosy, and the sofa was nice and comfortable, but even the finest of beds and the warmest of rooms could not send Mattheo into a peaceful slumber. It was who he was with that mattered, and to him that was you.

Why? Because you were his everything - it was as simple as that. He didn’t have to think twice to know that you were the breath that sustained him, the blood that coursed through his veins and the light that shone into his eyes.

You were the sun and he was merely your shadow, drawn to your light and lost in your absence.

So yes - you were his everything. But he was just your friend. Mattheo didn't know what would hurt more, being a stranger to you or knowing he was close enough to know you but too far to have you. He was accustomed to the latter, and he could only pray he’d never have to experience the former.

No, he couldn’t experience the former, because life was no longer his life without you in it.

“Probably not. I’ve got to turn in that astronomy report.” You hum back, peering down at Mattheo, his eyes still shut.

You admire the delicate curve of his long lashes, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

You watch him with a soft smile, feeling the familiar pang in your chest that always comes when you're with him. He looks so peaceful, so at ease in your lap, as if this is where he truly belongs. A sigh escapes your lips, and you want nothing more than to gently trace a finger along the line of his jaw, committing every detail of his face to memory. You want to hold onto these moments forever, to keep them safe in the corners of your heart where no one else can touch them.

It's funny, you think, how life has a way of sneaking up on you. How someone like Mattheo, with his rough edges and restless spirit, could become such a constant in your life. He’s unpredictable and chaotic, a storm that never quite settles, yet with him, you feel a sense of belonging you’ve never found anywhere else.

He stirs, turning onto his side as a small sigh escapes his lips. His voice is more of a murmur than anything, a quiet “please?” whispered.

“We’re off for summer tomorrow, it's probably the last time I’ll-” He starts, a lump forming in his throat as he falls silent. He won't see you during the summer, because he’s back at the Riddle manor. A thought he's tried to avoid greatly till now.

“I know Mattheo, but it’s not as though you'll go completely cold. You’ll still write to me, won't you?” You say, shutting your book completely.

He opens his eyes, looking up at you, and there’s a flicker of something vulnerable, something raw. “Of course, I will,” he replies, his voice firmer now. “I don’t think I could go that long without hearing from you.”

You nod, a warmth spreading through you. “Then it’s settled. We’ll write, and it won’t be so bad.”

You know it’s not the same, that letters are a poor substitute for being here, together, but it’s something. It’s a promise, a thread that will keep you connected even when you’re apart.

Mattheo couldn't possibly not write to you - you grew up in silence, being neglected and ignored. Silence was everything to you, and in the worst way possible. It was part of the reason Mattheo was so dear to you - he was everything the people in your life couldn't be. He was always there for you, he’d never once dismiss or abandon you. It was unnerving at first, having someone's full undivided attention, but Mattheo taught you that it was something you were owed, something you'd deserved because nobody should ever be ignored. And god be damned if Mattheo ever did anything similar to that, no.

Hell would have to freeze over before Mattheo could ever hurt you like that.

Summer arrived with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of distant laughter, leaving memories of Hogwarts feeling like a distant past. From the day that you bid farewell to Mattheo on the express, the gnawing sensation of grief ate away at your insides till you were reduced to an anxious wreck.

It felt oddly empty. You found yourself listening for the sound of Mattheo’s voice in every breeze, waiting for the familiar swoop of an owl delivering his letters. Each morning, you’d check the window, hoping to see a note from him, a line of messy handwriting that would make you smile.

His murmured promises echoed in your ears tauntingly - like an alarm that pierced through the devastating silence, each as worse as the other.

You told yourself he was busy - You knew what it was like at the Riddle manor. Amongst a murderous psychopath as a father and an equally (if not crazier) and crueller mother, Mattheo would not be granted a single moment of respite. Yet somehow, even if it felt selfish, you still felt angry. You knew Mattheo. He had promised he’d write, knowing how much it meant to you. He knew how important communication was to you, how being left in the dark made you feel. How every moment of silence cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

Mattheo knew about your childhood, how you were left alone in that big, empty house while your parents lived their lives. He knew about the cold dinners, the quiet nights, the way you had to fend for yourself because no one else would. How you craved connection, the reassurance that you weren’t alone. It was why he promised to write, why he promised to always be there. But now, with each day that passed without a letter, it felt like those promises were empty.

The silence was more than just an absence. It was a reminder of every time you had been forgotten, every time you had been left behind. It was the echo of your parents' indifference, now mirrored by the one person you thought would never do that to you.

The days blurred into one another, each one a monotonous stretch of time that seemed to go on forever. You wandered through the house aimlessly, your mind numb with boredom. Books that once brought you joy now lay forgotten, and even the sunny garden outside held no appeal. The silence was all-consuming, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, smothering every spark of energy or hope.

Just before you were ready to do something—anything—to break free from the oppressive quiet, the sound of scratching broke through your thoughts. An owl, clawing at the window. The sound startled you, and for a moment, you stood frozen, heart pounding. Then, you all but scrambled out of the bed to unlock the window, nearly knocking the owl off its perch as you did so. It hooted in annoyance, ruffling its feathers, its eyes glaring at you as if to say, "Be careful!"

"Sorry," you muttered, but your hands were already reaching for the letter tied to its leg, a sense of urgency driving you. You snatched the letter from its claws, your fingers trembling as you tore it open. The seal wasn't Mattheo's, but at this point, you didn't care. It was a letter. It was something. You unfolded the parchment, your eyes quickly scanning the familiar handwriting.

Hey [name],

Hope you’re doing well. Summer can be kind of a drag, right? All this quiet after the chaos of school—it gets old fast. Anyway, I’ve been keeping in touch with Mattheo. He’s been writing a lot, actually. Seems like he’s pretty caught up in things over at the manor. Typical Mattheo, you know? Always juggling a hundred things at once. I guess you’ve been hearing from him too?

I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to. We didn’t get much of a chance to hang out at the end of term, and I thought it might be fun to catch up. Maybe we could meet up sometime, get out of the house for a bit. I know a few good spots—quiet, away from everything. We could just hang out, talk, or not talk. Whatever you feel like. No pressure. Just thought it’d be nice to see you.

Let me know if you’re up for it. Would be great to catch up.

Take care,

Theo

You read the letter once, then twice, then once more, to make sure you were reading it correctly. Mattheo had been writing, but not to you.

He was ignoring you.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, the ache in your chest growing sharper, more painful.

Why hadn’t Mattheo written? Had you done something wrong?

The pit in your stomach could only feel deeper as your mind mulls over every possible thing you could have done to get Mattheo mad at you. Nothing came to mind. He had been the same Mattheo, resting his head in your lap, his voice soft and sleepy as he asked if you were going to Hogsmeade. There had been no tension, no argument. Just the usual comfort and ease that came with being around each other.

What was it about you that made people leave? Your parents, distant and cold, always too busy for you. And now Mattheo, the one person who made you feel like you mattered, was doing the same. The familiar sting of rejection clawed at your heart, a wound that never seemed to heal.

You reach for a piece of parchment, blinking back the tears that cloud your eyes as you begin to write back.

Hi Theo,

Summers been…. Alright, i guess. I hope you've been keeping well, though knowing you i'm sure you've been up to something interesting. I haven't actually-

He hasn’t-

Is Mattheo-

I’d love to see you some time. We really don't see each other that often. Would this Thursday work? I'll bring some pastries with me :)

-[Name.]

Your fingers tremble as you attach the letter to the (rather agitated) owl. He pecks at your finger in rebuttal, but you pay it no mind as you watch him soar off. It was something - having someone to speak to you, even if it wasn't Mattheo. You couldn't bear to confront the idea that Mattheo was purposefully not writing to you, that he was ignoring you. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you try to look forward to the prospect of seeing Theo on Thursday.

But every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mattheo.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced through the leaves of the old oak trees. The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing. You walked beside Theo, your footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. The warmth of the late afternoon sun kissed your skin, but it did little to thaw the cold ache that had settled in your chest.

“.... and that's why I told her to piss off, I couldn’t stand the old sod nagging at me about the history of ancient faeries any longer.” He mutters, a small huff of amusement escaping his lips.

A small smile tugs at your lips, barely there. You wanted to enjoy yourself, you really did - but you wore your heart on your sleeve, and every second that you felt like you could finally breathe again, the image of Mattheo flashes back into your mind and you're back drowning in your sorrows once more.

Theo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, gentle but probing. “You’ve been really quiet lately, [name]. Are you alright?”

You glanced at him, his concerned expression making your chest tighten. You shrugged, trying to mask the hurt that you felt. “I’m fine, just... thinking, I guess.”

Theo stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were soft, searching your face as if trying to read the thoughts you kept hidden. “Is it about Mattheo?” he asked softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Mattheo’s name. You had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about him, to not let the silence drive you mad. “I... yeah, I guess so. I haven’t heard from him all summer. It’s not like him to just disappear like that. Do you think he’s... okay?”

Theo’s expression flickered, just for a moment, before he forced a smile. “He’s fine,” he said, too quickly. “I mean, I’ve been hearing from him. He’s been writing to me.”

A pang of something sharp and bitter shot through you. “Oh,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s he been saying?”

Theo hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. “Just... stuff. You know how he is. He’s been busy, I guess. Hanging out with new people. He mentioned some girl, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

Your heart sank at his words. Some girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of every fear you’d tried to suppress. “Did he say why he hasn’t written to me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo looked at you, his eyes filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. “He didn’t mention it, no,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure he’s just been distracted. You know how Mattheo is. He doesn’t always think about how his actions affect others.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only deepened the ache in your chest. You had always known Mattheo was reckless, impulsive, but not to you - never to you. But that’s how it always was, wasn’t it. Everyone thinks they’re the exception.

Were you really that foolish?

“Maybe you should write to him,” Theo suggested, his tone light, almost casual. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, maybe I will.” But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. The thought of reaching out, of writing a letter that might go unanswered, was too painful to bear.

As you walked with Theo, his presence a comfort, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The park around you was filled with the sounds of summer, the laughter of children, the chirping of birds and yet, with all that -

all you could hear was the silence from Mattheo.

The Hogwarts Express puffed out clouds of white steam as it pulled into Hogsmeade station, the sound of the whistle cutting through the cool autumn air. Students poured out of the train, chattering excitedly, their voices blending into an unintelligible yet comforting background noise. You stepped off the train with Theo by your side, the familiarity of the scene bringing a small smile to your face. Despite everything, Hogwarts was a home to you, and it was nice to finally be back.

Theo’s arm brushed against yours as you walked, his presence a now familiar and comforting thing. Summer had been unexpectedly pleasant with him, his letters and company filling the void that Mattheo’s silence had left. He had taken you to the local fair, where you’d ridden the Ferris wheel and eaten too much cotton candy - holding onto his hand as you stumbled back home having indulged in one too many treats. For a while, you’d almost forgotten the ache in your heart, but it never truly went away - rather it mellowed down into a gentle throb, just about there. But when the sun was shining, and you could hear Theodore's laughter in the background as the evening’s breeze began to settle, it disappeared.

Even if only for a moment, it disappears.

“Excited to be back?” Theo asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, it’s good to be back. I missed this place.”

“You mean you missed me, right?” He grinned, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You laughed, the sound a little forced. “Of course, Theo. Who else would I have missed?”

You settle into a light conversation with him, answering without your mind even registering what you were responding. The towering silhouette of Hogwarts castle came into view as you rounded the final corner of the path. The sight of the familiar stone walls sent a wave of mixed emotions crashing over you—nostalgia, warmth, and a painful reminder of who you hadn’t seen yet.

Friends gather in the great hall, conversations of far gone reunions and sordid summer holidays drowning everything out. It was alot - almost too much. Theodore had just gone to greet his friends, promising to meet you in your room after.

You nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave, but as soon as he disappeared into the crowd, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over you. It wasn’t just physical, though your body certainly felt the weight of the long journey back to Hogwarts. No, it was deeper than that—a bone-deep weariness, a numbness that had taken root over the summer and never quite left.

You just wanted to be alone. Away from the noise, away from the chaos, away from the confusing mess of emotions that had plagued you all summer long.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of the Great Hall. Your feet carried you automatically toward the Ravenclaw Tower, the promise of peace and -most importantly- silence pulling you forward. You could practically feel the soft duvet of your bed calling you, a safe place to curl up and shut out the world.

But just as you turned the corner, your entire world came crashing to a halt.

Mattheo was there, standing at the bottom of the staircase. He wasn’t just waiting—he was pacing, his expression frantic, as though he had been searching for you for hours. His dishevelled appearance and the wild look in his eyes took you by surprise, and before you could even react, he rushed toward you, almost slamming into you as his hands grabbed your arms.

“[name]” he breathed, his voice raw, like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Thank Merlin. Are you okay? I’ve been going mad, I—why didn’t you answer? What happened?”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. The sight of him, so frantic, so genuine, only made your heart twist painfully inside your chest. For a second—just a second—you wanted to melt into his arms, to let the relief wash over you because finally, here he was, the Mattheo you had been waiting for. But then the summer flashed through your mind, the days of silence, waiting by the window for letters that never came.

Theo’s voice echoed in your head, reminding you of the late nights spent wondering if you ever truly mattered to Mattheo at all. He’d mentioned Mattheo being distracted, writing to someone else. It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You wrenched yourself free from his grasp, your voice colder than you’d ever intended. “What do you mean, what happened? I’ve been waiting for you, Mattheo! You’re the one who disappeared!”

His face fell, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? No—I’ve been writing to you. Every week! I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Don’t lie to me, Mattheo.” You stepped back, putting distance between you as anger bubbled up inside. “I didn’t get a single letter from you all summer. Not one. And you expect me to believe you’ve been writing?”

For a moment, he looked completely lost, his face contorting into an expression of confusion. “[name], I swear. I’ve sent you letters, I’ve been trying to—” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to make sense of it all. “I’ve been so worried. When I didn’t hear back, I thought... I thought something happened to you.”

You could see the panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he reached out for you again, but the doubts were already there. How could he be telling the truth? Theo hadn’t mentioned Mattheo writing to you at all—just someone else. And now Mattheo stood before you, claiming he had? Why wouldn’t Theo have told you?

“You’re lying,” you whispered, and the words tasted like poison. “You’ve always been so good at making me believe you cared.”

“Lying?” His voice cracked as he took a step forward, but you recoiled, the hurt too deep, too fresh.

“Don’t.” Your voice broke, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to spill. “You left me, Mattheo. You didn’t write. You didn’t care.”

“I do care!” He was desperate now, his eyes pleading as if he could pull you back with his words alone. “I’ve always cared. I’ve been going insane not hearing from you, thinking something was wrong—”

“Then why did Theo get letters from you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Why did he know what was going on while I didn’t hear a thing? You’re telling me you wrote to me, but Theo told me you’ve been busy all summer—writing to someone else.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t get my letters. I don’t—Theo told you what?” Mattheo’s face went pale, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the words

You shook your head, the ache in your chest becoming unbearable. “I waited for you, Mattheo. Every single day. I waited for you to care, but you didn’t. You weren’t there for me.”

His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of your words had physically struck him. He looked at you like you’d just shattered something inside him, but no words came. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something, but his mouth remained open, silent, as if he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The silence was deafening, and it felt like your heart was being crushed in your chest. You couldn’t bear to stand there any longer, not with him looking at you like that, not with your emotions tearing you apart. It would be better if you had just hit him - perhaps then the look of hurt on his face wouldn’t have killed you.

“I thought you were different, Mattheo,” you whispered, barely able to hold yourself together as you took a step back. “But I was wrong. You’re just like them - you’re everything they said you were.”

Your words break him, crushing his heart till he can’t speak - all he can do is stare. If he calls for you, you don’t hear it. Your ears are ringing, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from him, running up the stairs to your dorm.

The ache in your chest felt unbearable, an emptiness that consumed every part of you. You had wanted to believe Mattheo cared, that you meant something to him. But now - now it felt like all of that was a lie.

The door to your dorm creaked open, and Theo stepped inside, his face softening as soon as he saw you. He knelt besides you, pulling you into his chest without second thought. The smell of sandalwood and cigarettes consumed your senses - so similar to Mattheo yet indescribably different.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

But you couldn’t answer. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt as the sobs wracked your body. You didn’t even have the energy to question why Mattheo hadn’t fought harder, why he hadn’t explained. All you knew was that he hadn’t been there when you needed him most, and now… now it was too late.

Theo’s arms tightened around you, his hand stroking your hair. “You don’t need him,” he murmured. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

And for the first time all summer, you didn’t pull away from the comfort he offered.

As the weeks passed, Hogwarts seemed to return to its usual rhythm—students bustled between classes, the crisp autumn air rolled in, and laughter echoed in the common rooms. But for you, things were far from normal.

Mattheo had all but disappeared. He no longer showed up at meals. When you did catch a glimpse of him, it was fleeting—just the ghost of the boy you once knew. His skin looked pale, as if he hadn't slept in days, and his eyes were hollow, dark shadows etched beneath them like bruises.

Every time you saw him, your heart clenched painfully. There was a gnawing ache in your chest, an almost instinctual pull that made you want to go to him, to ask what was wrong, to demand why he had let everything fall apart between you. You thought of all the times he'd been there for you, all the whispered promises that felt so real - so fucking real.

But just as you would muster the courage to go to him, to ask what was happening, Theodore would appear.

It was always so sudden. As if he could sense your hesitation, your uncertainty. He would sidle up to you in the corridors, flash you that easy, comforting smile, and all the questions you wanted to ask Mattheo would slip away. Theo felt like a warm, familiar blanket, pulling you away from the confusion and the hurt. His arm would wrap around your shoulder casually, steering you in the opposite direction, and somehow you would find yourself walking away—again.

"Come on, " Theo would say softly, his voice gentle and soothing. "Let's grab something to eat. I could use the company."

And you'd follow him. Without protest, without a second thought. Every time.

Each time it happened, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Guilt, confusion, frustration—they tangled up inside you, twisting like a knot that was getting harder and harder to untangle. You knew you were avoiding Mattheo, and deep down, you hated yourself for it. But the hurt was still raw, and every time Theo was there to distract you, it felt easier to run away from it. You’d rather live in your ignorance, than face the closure of knowing Mattheo truly didn’t care.

And so, when you saw Mattheo the next day, looking sicker, more broken than ever, you swallowed the urge to reach out to him. You turned your head and pretended not to notice.

Theo would be there soon, anyway.

If you had told your 1st year self that you'd be here, moving in to your first apartment mere years after graduating from Hogwarts, you wouldn't have believed it. Having graduated top of the class you scored yourself an apprenticeship with one of the finest potion masters in all of the wizarding world, working tirelessly under their watch. It was strenuous - yes- but coming back home, your home, made it all worth it.

The apartment was beautiful. It felt like a perfect blend of you—bookish Ravenclaw touches scattered throughout, with shelves brimming with weathered novels, delicate blue curtains draping from the windows, and the familiar scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air. And yet, there were still signs of him everywhere—Slytherin green woven into the decor, trophies, and accolades displayed with quiet pride. It was a home, not just a place to live, but a space you had both created together.

You smiled softly to yourself as you glanced around. It had been a long journey to get here— but now everything was in its place, as it should be.

As if on cue, you heard the door click open behind you, and a smile tugged at your lips before you even turned around. The sound of his footsteps was unmistakable, steady and familiar. It had become part of your routine—this quiet comfort, this gentle rhythm of life. You hadn’t expected it, not after everything that had happened, but it had worked out. You had worked it out.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace as a soft kiss pressed against the side of your neck. You closed your eyes, leaning back into the comfort of his hold, letting the world fall away for just a moment.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, sending a familiar warmth through your chest. His breath brushed against your skin.

The faint smell of cigarettes clings to him, and the routine is as comforting as it is repetitive.

A small exasperated sigh escaped your lips, though it was betrayed by the soft smile that followed. “What did I tell you about smoking? You’re going to ruin your lungs.”

"Old habits die hard," he chuckled lightly, his voice filled with that casual ease you had come to love.

You shook your head playfully, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. “Oh, come on, Theo. I’ve been hearing that for ages.” You grinned, swatting at his chest lightly as you pulled away to busy yourself with tidying the room.

Everything was ok.

Life had settled into something comfortable, predictable even—like the rhythm of waves softly lapping against the shore.

One Sunday morning, the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You were curled up in bed with a book resting on your knees, enjoying the slow, peaceful quiet. Theo was still beside you, his arm draped lazily across your waist as he dozed off again, looking utterly relaxed.

You turned the page, the sound of the paper rustling softly, when the familiar tapping of an owl at the window caught your attention. Before you could even react, Theo was already stirring, groggily pushing himself up from the bed. "I’ll get it," he mumbled, stumbling toward the window.

The owl hooted impatiently as Theo untied the letter from its leg, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the unfamiliar seal. He tossed the envelope onto the bed beside you without much thought, his hand brushing through his dishevelled hair.

"Mail for you," he murmured, flopping back down onto the mattress.

You smiled absentmindedly, still engrossed in your book as you reached for the letter, but the moment your eyes landed on the seal, your heart sank.

It was a formal letter, the type you never want to see.

With a sense of dread curling in your chest, you tore it open, your fingers shaking slightly. The words on the parchment swam before your eyes, but as they slowly came into focus, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Mattheo Riddle….. Condolences….. Dead…… Ongoing investigation…… Suspected…..

Dead...

Dead..

Dead.

4 letters. One word, four letters. Did you know the English alphabet can produce endless combinations of words? But this—this was the only combination that mattered. Four letters that changed everything. Four letters that turned your world inside out.

Your mind went blank. The rest of the letter became a blur, the details escaping your grasp. Everything around you seemed to dissolve as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

Dead.

Your heart raced, pounding against your chest so violently it hurt. The word echoed inside your mind, repeating over and over like a broken record. You read it again, hoping—no, praying—that you had misunderstood.

But there it was, clear as day.

Mattheo Riddle was dead.

The room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing down as your world collapsed in on itself. The edges of your vision blurred, and your breath came in shallow, jagged gasps.

"Hey... what is it?" Theo’s voice felt distant, like it was coming from another world. His arms wrapped around you, his warmth pressing against you, but you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel anything but the gaping void that was swallowing you whole.

Dead.

The tears wouldn’t come. It was as if your body had shut down, refusing to process the enormity of what you’d just learned.

Theo’s hands were on your shoulders now, his voice full of concern as he pulled you into his arms. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with urgency. "Talk to me."

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe. The room spun, and the only word you could focus on was that single, damning word.

Dead.

You don't remember the next few weeks after that.

The numbness that plagued you back in your final year of Hogwarts - the one that settled and almost disappeared, hit with a force so strong you cannot remember a single thing since the day you found out.

You thought - you really thought you were over him. You thought that you were happy with Theodore now, so desperate to believe the delusion that you didn't realise you sought him out in every breath you took, every dream you followed.

It was for him - it was always him.

And now that you knew he was gone, really gone, there was no more pretending.

It was a quiet Sunday morning when you found yourself moving almost instinctively, your body on autopilot. Theodore was gone, at work as usual, and the emptiness of the apartment echoed around you, too loud in its silence. You wandered from room to room, searching, but for what? You didn’t know. Something—anything—that could pull you out of this suffocating fog, something that could make the world feel real again.

Your feet carried you to the attic. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Maybe an old photograph, a piece of parchment with his handwriting on it—something that could remind you of what once was. Something that could bring you back to him, even for just a moment.

You started going through one of the boxes, its contents an odd collection of mementos from school—quills, ink bottles, a stack of old essays, and a few scattered photographs from your Hogwarts years. Your hands moved mechanically, sorting through the mess, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Then, something caught your eye—a wooden panel in the wall, slightly crooked. It didn’t fit with the rest of the smooth, untouched surface of the attic. Your curiosity piqued, and with a frown, you crawled over to it. You tugged on the panel gently at first, then harder, until it came loose with a soft creak.

Behind it was a box, hastily stashed away, hidden so well that you never would’ve found it if you hadn’t noticed the crooked panel. The box was small, nondescript, but as you pulled it out, you felt a strange sense of foreboding settle over you.

It was heavy, heavier than you expected.

Your heart raced as you carefully set it down in front of you, fingers trembling slightly as you pried it open. Inside, the contents were a chaotic mess—parchments, crumpled and folded haphazardly, stacked one on top of another.

You cursed yourself for knowing him. For knowing him so well - you didn’t need to see the inside. The handwriting alone was enough to tell you-

Mattheo.

The world around you seemed to stop.

Dear [name],

It’s so strange not being able to talk to you every day. I know it’s only been a week since the summer holidays started, but I can’t help missing you already. The manor feels empty, as always, but it’s worse this time. I keep thinking about you—about what you’re doing right now. Are you relaxing, reading? I bet you’re buried in some book I’ve never heard of. Probably something that would go completely over my head if I tried to read it.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I know you’re probably busy settling in, but if you get the chance, write me back. It doesn’t have to be long or anything, just a quick hello would be enough. I miss our talks. I miss you.

I’ve been practising the spell we were working on before break—you know, the one that had me nearly blowing my hand off every time? Yeah, that one. Still haven’t gotten it right, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe you can show me what I’m doing wrong when we get back.

Take care of yourself, okay? Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours, Mattheo

Dear [name],

It’s been nearly two weeks, and I haven’t heard from you. I’m starting to get a little worried. Did something happen?

I keep telling myself you’re just caught up in everything, and that’s fine. I know how it gets with your parents. But... I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You know how I can get sometimes—overthinking every little thing.

Still, if you get the chance, just drop me a quick note. Let me know you’re okay. I keep checking for owls like a madman every morning, and I’ve started to get weird looks from the house elves. It’s embarrassing.

I miss you. A lot more than I expected, if I’m honest. Write soon, alright?

Mattheo

[name],

It’s been almost a month now, and I’m starting to lose it. I don’t know what’s happening, and no one’s telling me anything. Are you okay? Did something happen? If you’re in trouble—if someone hurt you—tell me. I’ll come find you, wherever you are. You know I would. You know I’d drop everything if you just said the word.

But I don’t know if you even want that. I don’t know if you hate me, or if something worse is happening that I can’t see. It’s like I’m blind, walking through this fog, and I can’t find my way out. Not without you.

I keep telling myself you’ll write back tomorrow, that this is just some horrible mistake. But tomorrow comes, and it’s the same damn silence. It’s driving me mad. Please, for the love of Merlin, just write to me.

Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you don’t hate me. Tell me anything.

Please.

I love yo-

Yours, always, Mattheo.

Please.

I can’t. I'm going fucking crazy - I can't. I need to hear from you, something. Anything, Tell me to piss off, tell me you hate me, tell me I'm terrible. I just need to know you’re ok.

I don’t care if you never want to see me again, if you hate me—I just need to know you’re okay. I can’t sleep anymore. I can’t eat. Every time I close my eyes, I see you, and then I remember that I haven’t heard from you in over a month and it makes me sick. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m losing my mind, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I don’t know if I can handle this anymore. Not without you.

You were always the one good thing in my life, the one thing that made sense in all this chaos. I need you to tell me you’re okay, [name]. Please.

I’m running out of ways to ask.

I’m running out of hope.

Grief - grief was a scary thing. Grief had no mercy, no, she was merciless. She lingered - she hid behind you and never really let go. Every time you though you were ok she'd re-emerge for a bit, just to remind you she was there.

Now? Now she was suffocating you, clawing at your throat. She was tearing you apart, her claws digging into your skin, ripping lawyer by layer till there was nothing left. She was consuming you - and The harder you fought, the deeper she sank her teeth in.

The apartments a mess. A nearby shelf—one that held neatly arranged books and trinkets from your shared life with Theodore—was what you first noticed. Shattered on the floor, like a beacon amongst shattered glass and wooden splinters.

Mattheo had died believing you hated him, that you had abandoned him, and all this time, Theo—

Theodore.

The realization hit you like a second wave, colder, sharper. Your heart lurched violently in your chest, and your rage found a new target. You grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it across the room, watching it smash against the wall as a fresh sob escaped from your lips.

You didn’t hear the front door open, or the sound of Theodore’s footsteps hurrying toward you. He was suddenly just there, eyes wide, filled with confusion and concern.

“[name]? What—what’s going on?!” he demanded, rushing forward to catch your arm, trying to stop you from doing more damage. “What are you doing? Calm down—”

But his words only fuelled your fury. You ripped your arm away from him, turning on him with sheer devastation. “You! You did this!” you screamed, your voice hoarse from crying. “You took them—you took everything from me!”

Theodore’s face paled, his mouth opening as if to argue, but no sound came out. His silence was an admission, and it broke something deep inside you. You launched yourself at him, fists pounding against his chest, though your strength wavered with each hit. “You lied! You ruined everything! Mattheo—he—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you collapsed into sobs, your knees giving way beneath you. Theodore tried to catch you, but you shoved him back, crumbling onto the floor as your body heaved with uncontrollable sobs. You buried your face in your hands, pulling at your hair, wishing you could rip the pain from your very skin.

Theo crouched beside you, his hands hovering near your trembling form, unsure if he should touch you or keep his distance. “Please—” he started, his voice low, pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I thought—”

“Don’t you dare!” You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face

“Don’t you dare try to explain this away. You stole from me. You stole him from me!” Your voice cracked, and your chest tightened painfully as another sob wracked your body. “He’s dead, Theo. And I—I never got to—”

The rest of your words were swallowed by the weight of your grief. You clutched the letters, crumpling them in your fists as if they could somehow fix everything, as if holding them tighter would bring Mattheo back.

Theodore reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched, pulling away from him like his touch burned. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice broken and trembling. “You… you did this.”

For the first time, Theo didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself.

“Please. Please - God please. Please bring him back. Please let me - Please,” You break down, clutching the letters to your chest as though you wanted to piece them together, to draw the essence of Mattheo that lingered in every word, in every drop of ink.

and maybe—just maybe—you could bring him back through the agony of your grief.

But no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how many times you begged-

he wasn’t coming back.

My Dearest [name],

I love you. I regret not saying it every second, of every day. I regret not saying it once in any one of my letters. 61 - one for each day of the summer. And I couldn’t say it.

Every heartbeat chants your name, every breath whispers your presence, for you are the pulse of my existence.

I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember - it would be impossible not to when I only really started living the second I met you.

God, you’re everything. You really are. I cant- I don’t know what I’d do without you. I haven't really done anything - not since the day you told me you hated me.

They wanted me to kill you. I’d have always known you'd do so well, securing a potionsmaster apprenticeship. It was everything we spoke about.

I couldnt be there too.

Leave it to you and your stubborn, infuriating little mind to show it to the whole world. You knew - you'd always known the risks of so openly opposing my side the wrong side. And you still did.

Giving everyone hope, as you always do. You’re truly an angel.

Trading my life for yours? It wasn't even a question.

I don’t know how to put this into words without breaking, but I need to. You’ve been the best part of me, the only part that ever felt real. I still remember the first time you looked at me—really looked at me, not the boy people whispered about, but me. The way your eyes found mine, and it was like you saw through every single layer I’d spent years building around myself. You made me feel like I was someone worth being seen. And for that, for everything you are, I’ll always be grateful.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me, [Name]. You let me have moments of you, of your warmth, and I think that’s what made me believe - just for a second- that I could be better. That I could be something with you.

If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d rewrite every moment, every mistake. I’d fight for us harder. I'd say it when you'd run your fingers through my hair, reading your books as you always do. I'd say it every morning; make it the mantra that I mutter before we'd I'd go to bed. I’d tell you I loved you every single day, so you never had to doubt it, never had to wonder if you meant the world to me.

Because you do. You always have.

Even now, when everything’s falling apart, you’re still the best part of me.

You always will be.

With all the love I never got to give you, Mattheo.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Manipulative relationships, no HEA.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fic #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 2 months ago

Text

Perfect Birthday Wish - Max Verstappen

For many years, Max's birthday was nothing special. He tended to spend it at the track, or at practice, or just with a few friends. He simply saw it as one more year of experience, and one more closer to him officially being old.

This year, however, Max was changing things up - he was branching out. He was meeting up with a friend of a friend -you- since he had been told that you were a lot like him in many regards. You were currently living in Monaco, and a bit of an introvert.

You liked keeping yourself to yourself, and Max was the same. He liked the sound of you, you seemed like his kind of person. He wasn't actually sure whether this get together was a date or whether it was just a friendly little 'getting to know each other' kind of thing.

But, he assumed that since it was just the two of you, then it could probably be classed as a date. Max had picked a nice little cafe that he had been to many times before without the press interfering.

He kept his outfit casual, making his way through the backstreets of Monaco to the location that you had been informed about. He didn't know what you looked like or anything, all he knew was that he was spending his birthday on a date with some girl that he had never even talked to.

Blind dates weren't his idea of an ideal first meeting, not by any means, but he felt like this could be an interesting way to start things with you. Now, he just had to hope and pray that you were all his friend had chalked you up to be.

Walking into the cafe, he didn't have a clue if you were there or not. "Hi, I booked a table under Verstappen for 2, I'm not sure if someone has taken the reservation yet?" he asked one of the waitresses walking by, and she went to the front of the cafe to check the system.

"No one has turned up just yet, your table is right this way," she smiled, leading Max through to his usual table that was tucked away in the corner. Something about it was cosy, homely, comfortable. He loved it, and he sometimes found himself just coming here to sit there and drink a coffee in the peace and quiet.

As he thought about it, the idea of having someone to bring here, to sit with in the solace, was a nice thought. Just to have someone, not to necessarily talk to, but just to have. To have and to hold, to enjoy.

He was always asked what he wanted as his birthday wish, and he always said 'what could I want when I already have everything I desire?'. His friends would laugh it off as just Max being Max, but every year he spent without someone beside him, he longed for it a little more. He couldn't help but wonder if today was finally going to grant him his wish.

"Erm... Max?" a voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Max looked up and his heart nearly stopped. Standing in front of the table, fiddling with their fingers was the single most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon.

You were like some model stripped right out of a magazine and planted right in front of him. "Yeah, hi, yeah, I'm Max," he stuttered, standing up and holding his hand out for you to shake. Shake her hand? Yeah, nice one, Mr 1940s Businessman he thought.

As a bid to save face, once you had placed your hand into his, he brought it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. He was relieved when he saw the small flush of pink that coated your cheeks - his efforts having clearly paid off.

"I'm Y/N," you said as he dropped your hand back down gently. You slid into the booth and Max slid in opposite you, and this was always the worst part about a first date. What did you ask? You surely knew he was an F1 driver, and he wanted to ask you about your occupation, but he couldn't get the words out.

"So, how's your day been?" you piped up, breaking the awkward tension.

"Good, yeah. It's just been me and my friends hanging out," he explained, not bypassing the fact that you seemed to be hanging onto his every word, listening as if you genuinely cared about his answers.

"Any special occasions?" you asked, and he was slightly shocked. Maybe you had really good sixth sense, or maybe you had been tipped off about what day it was today, but he couldn't help but grin nonetheless.

"Eh, well, yeah. It's my birthday today," he said, as if it wasn't a big deal. Your eyes widened as a grin grew across your face.

"Really?" you said, excitement clear in your tone. Max just nodded softly, finding the excitement endearing from you. No one around him seemed that excited for their own birthday, let alone his. Plus, it was someone he had barely even known for 5 minutes.

"No way..." you trailed off, and Max cocked an eyebrow at you. He was curious as to why you found the news of what today was so shocking, why it seemed so important to you. "Today's my birthday too," you told him, and it suddenly all made sense.

"And why isn't a pretty girl like you out with her friends on her birthday?" he asked, wanting to see that familiar blush creep up onto your cheeks. He was never the smoothest when it came to compliments, but now he felt a sudden burst of confidence.

"Ah well, they're all at work and stuff, it doesn't matter. I'm glad to be spending it with you, anyway," you countered, and now it was Max's turn to blush. You were more like him than he previously thought.

You were spending your special day, going on a date that could possibly end in disaster, with some man you had never spoken too. It was admirable, in a way. You were both coming out of your shells and stepping out of your comfort zones, for the sake of what?

A connection? Maybe a fleeting romance that would come and go like the autumn breeze? Love? What even was love in a world so cynical? Was it wanting to stay with someone, no matter how much you thought to have despised them?

Was it wanting to be by someone's side through thick and thin? Was it needing someone so desperately that you couldn't bear to have your soul ripped from theirs by the ever fateful hands of a ticking clock?

Alas, Max was getting too ahead of himself. "But surely you can find better ways to spend your special day than holed up here with me?" he joked, causing a small giggle to slip past your lips. Now that was a sound he could get used to.

"I could say the same to you," you countered, already finding the Dutchman to be your type of guy. Quiet, composed, but still with the charms of a traditional gentleman. There was something about Max, too.

Something settling, something that reminded you of home. You couldn't quite say what it was, but he seemed like the kind of guy that would be good to snuggle up with on the couch on a rainy day.

"Well when you get as old as I am, partying with your friends isn't so appealing anymore," he quipped, and you let out a playful scoff.

"Old? What are you? 25?"

"I turn 27 today, actually," he told you, and you were shocked, to say the least. He didn't look that old. Well, 27 wasn't old, but he looked like he was in his early 20s. Maybe it was the still fluffy tufts of blonde hair, the boyish face, or the sparkling blue eyes.

"OK maybe you are old," you laughed, and Max put an exaggerated hand over his heart in mock offence.

"Ouch, that hurt my ego," he exclaimed, and all you could do was laugh. Time seemed to slow down as the noise in the cafe died down, leaving the two of you as the only people in the space. God, your laugh was perfect.

The way your eyes lit up and crinkled with the smile was nearly intoxicating. It was something his brain took a picture of and captured so that he could savour the moment again and again in his mind.

The two of you ate, drank and enjoyed casual conversation for about an hour. The bill eventually came, and you both looked at eachother. "We can split?" you offered, and Max immediately shook his head.

"No way, no. I am not letting you pay for your lunch on your birthday," he said.

"But it's your birthday too," you replied, a quizzical look on your face. Yes, the logic was flawed, but you liked the intention behind it.

"Just... let me get this, please?" he softly pleaded, not knowing what other reason to give for wanting to buy you lunch. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, and what Max had always been taught to do when he was growing up.

There was always the factor of liking the idea of being able to provide nice things for people he cared about, to take care of them. Yes, he was skipping quite far ahead in your barely formed relationship, but it was still something that his mind threw at him.

"Fine, fine," you relented. Something about those blue eyes just made you weak in the knees, and there was no way you'd be able to say not to him when he asked. Especially when he used that tone of voice.

Max had a cocky grin on his face, liking how easy it was to get you to bend to what he wanted from you. He could already see it now, such an obedient little- no, Max, no. That was a thought for a different night. A completely different night.

Max swiped his card through the machine, the transaction going through without a second thought. "So... do you want me to walk you home, or we can go for a walk...?" he stuttered, his confidence suddenly wavering.

"We can go for a walk, sure," you nodded, wanting to spend more time with the Dutchman.

As you left the restaurant, you walked side by side. The weather was surprisingly warm for this time in Autumn, the sun only being obscured by a few white clouds. There was practically no wind, and you were glad that you hadn't brought out your jacket.

For a short while, you walked in silence, just enjoying having someone's company. You were both so used to spending your time alone in your own aggregation, but now it wasn't so bad being with someone else.

You didn't have to talk to feel comfortable with him, and that was how you liked it. Words weren't always necessary in clear communication between two people. It just took a small glance your way and that little smile that told you he was enjoying being with you.

"Marina?" you asked, looking out onto the slightly choppy water. Despite the boats that were teeming with people with more money than sense, it was a very peaceful atmosphere. You liked the way the water sounded, lapping at the wood of the docks.

"Sure," Max nodded, also enjoying the time. He spent a lot of time on his own yacht, but he'd probably take you there another time. He could see you, waltzing around in a pretty summer dress under the high sun with a cocktail in your hand.

He'd just get to lounge around on the deck chairs and watch you, admire you, worship you with his eyes. Yet again, Max was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he was thinking up his big birthday wish for this year.

As you walked, your hands kept on brushing together. Every time your skin made contact, Max felt spark of electricity running through his veins. Slowly, Max reached out his pinky finger, entwining it with yours.

You didn't shy away, but you also didn't make a bid to shorten the propinquity. He decided to bite the bullet, moving his hand closer so that he could intertwine his fingers fully with yours, your hands slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

His hand was surprisingly warm compared you yours, the soft palm of your hand rubbing against the calloused skin of his own. Max was able to walk closer with you, your shoulders occasionally rubbing together.

As if subconsciously, Max's thumb started rubbing up and down, swiping over the cold skin. "Your hands are cold," he chuckled, squeezing yours gently.

"Oh... Sorry," you apologised, trying to pull your hand away from yours.

"No, no, hey," he dismissed, grabbing your hand back and lacing your fingers together again. Max placed both your hand and his into his jacket pocket, and the warmth almost prickled on your skin.

"Thank you," you smiled, holding his hand a little tighter. It seemed like having his hand in yours felt so right.

You walked a little longer, both glad that you were spending your birthdays in such a way. Two introverts, brought together by fate, both of the same mind. Neither needing conversation, but both needed a close proximity.

Both of you noticed the clouds becoming thicker and greyer, blocking out the sun out and allowing the cool breeze to be felt. Then, without warning, it was like the heavens opened over Monaco.

Heavy droplets of rain poured down from the skies, and you and Max just stood there for a moment. "Erm... come on, this way," he said, pulling you along as your feet trod in puddles as the soaked through your shoes.

"Max slow down!" you shouted between fits of giggles, your legs struggling to keep up with Max's long strides.

"Shit, sorry," he laughed back, slowing down but still making haste through the pouring rain. Quickly stopping, he shrugged his coat off of his shoulders and held it over your head as you started running again. "We're nearly there," he told you, taking your hand and tugging you along with him again.

All around you, people were rushing inside to the safety of cafes and shops, but you and Max kept on running through the rain. "Where are we going?" you asked, but received no answer. You were getting more soaked the more you ran, the rain drenching you through to the bone.

It was cold, that was for sure. The only thing that was keeping you warm was the energy exerted from running. You weren't even that wet compared to Max, since he was sacrificing his jacket for the sake of trying to keep you somewhat dry. "In here!" he shouted, pulling you into an apartment building.

"I hope this is OK, I should've asked, but I figured this'd be a good place to wait out the rain and then I can take you home," he mumbled, suddenly not so confident about having brought you where he had.

"This your place?" you asked, taking in the opulent lobby. It was a pretty new building, and you and Max looked like drowned rats compared to everyone else in the room.

"Yeah, it is," he nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he held his sodden jacket in his other hand. "I hope that's OK..." he trailed off, not prepared for you to say no and leave.

"That's fine, yeah." you reassured, looking at him expectantly. He sent you a small smile, before walking off to the elevator. It was on the top floor, and you quickly learned that it was the penthouse suite of the complex.

To say it was stunning was an understatement. It looked like something straight out of a damned catalogue. Marble surfaces, floor to ceiling windows. Hell, the place even smelled expensive. "Woah..." you said as you walked in.

"Thank you," Max chuckled, taking in your stunned face as you looked around. "Do you wanna... borrow some clothes? I mean, yours are soaked through, and I don't want you getting sick, but I get-"

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you," you interrupted, and Max breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off. He ducked into his room and then into the master bathroom to leave his jacket to dry. He also quickly got changed into something comfier: just sweats and a hoodie.

Ridling through his clothes, Max found the smallest things he owned, even if he thought they'd still be too big for you. "Hey, you can borrow these for as long as you need." he smiled, handing you a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie and a shirt.

"Thanks, where should I leave my clothes?"

"You can just put them over the radiator to dry, bathroom is down the hall and first on your left." he informed you, and you took yourself off to get changed. You practically had to peel your wet clothes off you, and the fell to the floor with a soggy thump.

You put your wet hair up in a bun, before slipping the garments on. All Max could do was laugh when you walked out. The clothes literally drowned you. The heels of the sweatpants dragged down by your heels, and the shirt and hoodie ended at your mid thighs.

"Comfy?" he chuckled, trying to stifle a full blown cackle. He couldn't help but marvel at how cute you looked in his clothes, but he didn't want to make it something that he wanted to get used to before it had even began.

"Very," you smiled, knowing he was laughing enough but were too warm to care.

"Come sit," Max said, walking over to the couch and patting the spot next to him. You did as he asked, plopping down in the empty space. "Do you want cake?" he randomly asked, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Cake? But we just ate lunch," you said, and Max rolled his eyes.

"Just wait," he sighed, getting off the couch and going off to the kitchen. You heard what you thought was the striking of a match, and in walked Max. "Happy joint birthday," he smiled, and you saw him with a half-eaten chocolate cake.

The sparklers on top were '27', but he was covering up the '7' with his hand. "I know you're not 27, but I thought you'd wanna blow out some candles," he smiled, bringing the cake to you.

"Awww," you blushed, touched by how sweet the gesture was. Even if he was presenting you with a half-eaten chocolate cake.

"C'mon," he prompted, and you just smiled at him.

"You too, blow them out with me," you told him, and Max couldn't help but agree. "On three," you chuckled as he started to count down. "Make a wish," you whispered to him.

A/N - Happy birthday to Maxie! And to me! I know so many people with this birthday I swear, but happy birthday to the flying Dutchman (and me). Love y'all! 💖

|masterlist|

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x you #fluff #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mv1 #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 imagines #max verstappen imagines

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yummymitzy · 3 months ago

Text

By your side

Summary: Who knew that nightmares could lead to a night of cuddles?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

WC: 2,473

A/N: I wrote this when I was high off my ass😭

————♡————

Natasha found herself to be incredibly independent and she maintained her routine well. But she noticed that ever since the day you got settled in the compound, she grew more and more distracted. And apparently she wasn’t the only one who took notice.

She couldn’t help it, every time you passed by her, she always felt her heart rate increase as a sudden warmth encases her body. She always wondered what it was she felt about you, it was hard to distinguish.

Natasha hated that you had that effect on her, she didn’t know what was going on, she never felt this way before. She hated the fact that her heart yearned for you when you got sent on missions, and she hated she would do anything to have your smile directed towards her.

It took Natasha weeks to finally distinguish the feeling as love, but the denial built up. Love was for children, so why was this feeling so overbearing? The butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever she heard your laugh across the room, she’d always wish it was because of her.

————♡————

It was a late night in the compound, the soft moonlight shining through the windows. Natasha was perched on one of the kitchen stools, her head rested in between her hands while she was deep in thought.

She was a night owl, it wasn’t something she always liked but it brought her some peace. The nightmares she had were practically burned into her eyelids every time she closed her eyes.

That was definitely the not peaceful part of being a night owl, but other than that, she loved staring out into the night. It brought her a sense of comfort as the sounds of the city echoed in her ears, the lights of buildings far too bright but still beautiful.

But this wasn’t one of those nights, Natasha didn’t know what changed. It was another terrible experience that the red room had brought her, other than being on the table for her graduation ceremony.

The graduation ceremony was an experience that Natasha prepared herself to talk about, knowing well enough that it had to be brung up soon. And it did, with Bruce.

But this memory, it was just inexplicable. She felt like the words were just getting stuck in her throat before they even came close to being vocalized. Not that she couldn’t explain it, but she couldn’t express it.

Sighing, Natasha dropped one of her hands onto the cold countertop, her warm skin screaming in relief once it came in contact with it. Her finger tips tracing the marble lines with a soft touch.

The half glass of water beside Natasha was completely forgotten as she was practically drowning in her head. Her mind slowly drifted to you, was she ever going to confess to you?

Hell, would you even want to start something with somebody like her? She was closed off with many barriers, and yet you managed to break them all down without even realizing it. You quickly grew her trust possibly ten times faster than Clint, and he was the first one she ever opened up to!

Natasha loved how you were just so kind, you were like a puppy who just got adopted. You always blew her breath away whenever you’d be the first to greet her, or when you’d silently hand her a plate of food whenever you cooked for yourself.

She wondered if that was all casual, it was just you being friendly, right? There was no way you reciprocated those feelings, you were nice to everybody, you just didn’t to leave her out? Natasha honestly prayed for that to not be the case.

She sighed once more as her other hand fell from her cheek, her head slumping slightly as a wave of exhaustion flew through her. She desperately needed sleep, but she couldn’t bare the thought of another nightmare, especially when the images were still deeply engraved in her head.

Natasha’s throat felt dry and scratchy as it felt like she had been munching on saltine crackers. Her eyes slowly drifted towards the glass of water before she reached out to it. As she was drinking the remains of the liquid, the sound of the floorboards creaking with light footsteps echoed the hall, making her ears perk up. Who else would be up at this ungodly hour?

Her eyes narrowed, trying to make out the dark figure that was approaching the area where she sat. The darkness making it especially harder for her when the only source of light was the slight glow of moonlight shining through one of the many windows.

Natasha quietly set down the now empty glass on the counter, her mind screaming at her to stand up or do something. But her body didn’t make a move to stand up. Her eyes were trained towards the hallway as she waited for the figure to finally step into the soft glow of the night.

It was you. Every fibre of her being froze as her breath hitched, the sight of you as the moonlight kissed your face, enhancing your features.

She quickly averted her gaze and looked down at her fingers which were still tracing the streaks of grey that splayed across the counter.

Natasha came to the assumption that you hadn’t caught sight of her yet, as she listened to your footsteps trail past her to the cabinets that held all the glass cups. Soon enough, she heard the ringing of glass cups and water being poured into it.

Her verdant eyes slowly lifted from her fingers, before placing her sights on you. Slowly traveling up your figure from behind, huffing a quiet laugh at your choice of pajamas.

As she was still gazing at you, Natasha slightly shifted in her seat. The quiet noise catching your attention, as your head shot up from your full glass of water before your lips even touched the rim.

Natasha’s eyes widened a fraction before she instantly eased up. She watched as your eyes flicker around the area around you both, before they landed on her, and she swears she saw them soften at the sight of her.

“Nat?” Your voice hushed into a gentle whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder that you would alarm her. “What’re you doing awake?”

“I could say the same about you.” She dodged, her head tilting to the left as her tone held a playful manner.

“I was just honestly craving for some cold water. But what about you, Nat? You look really…” You paused as you pursed your lips in thought, afraid of offending the Russian woman sat in front of you.

“Exhausted. Especially when I clearly see that the glass in front of you is dry, water is long gone. How long have you been up?”

Your tone voices out your concern as your feet absentmindedly leads you to sit in the stool next to Natasha, your knees brushing together as you could feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Not long.” The words flying out of her mouth almost immediately. The action making you furrow your eyebrows as you turn your head to peer at her side profile.

She was gorgeous, even in the dead of night, hell it made her stand out even more. The moonlight blending in with her scarlet hair, making it into a more beautiful hue. Her cute button nose and her raised cheekbones kissed under the moon.

“Mmm.. You know you could talk to me right, Nat?”

The nickname made Natasha’s heart leap, it sounded so good when you said it, she yearned to hear more of it. Processing your words, she let out a soft sigh, her gaze floating away from her pale skin as she stared ahead of her.

“Yeah. Its just..” She drifted off, a blank look on her face as she stared into nothing. Your face contorted in concern on the other hand, your hand hovering over her shoulder before placing it, thumb rubbing tiny circles.

Natasha let out a breath, whatever it was that she was thinking about, you knew it was definitely personal. “You don’t have to talk about it right now, Nat.”

You had an idea what it could be about though, especially with the distant look you could recognize anywhere in her jade eyes. A nightmare, or at least that’s what you assume it is.

There was a few minutes of comforting silence between the two of you, all you could hear was Natasha’s slightly labored breaths and the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

“I have nightmares too,” Natashas head snapped towards your direction, her eyes still holding the blank look but a hint of curiosity. She wondered where you were going with this. “I never overcame them. There’s some days where they just packed a harder punch, and other days they just seem to quiet down. But they never left.”

Natasha stayed quiet, soaking in your words as she tries to understand the point you’re trying to make.

“I know you have them too, and I don’t want to push it with you and make you tell me what’s going on. That would just make me feel like a jerk.”

The hand on Natasha’s shoulder felt heavier, she didn’t know if it was you or because she had just realized how comforting your touch was.

“I just want to let you know that you could always come to me. Even if it would be in the dead of night or not, my room will always be open to you. I deeply care about you, Nat.”

Tears slowly welled up in Natasha’s eyes as her gaze met yours, her eyes glittering with tears making the green in her eyes pop.

You take the chance and examine her features once more, the tip of her nose starting to flush a subtle pink along with her cheeks.

The both of you bask in the silence once more, her eyes moving past yours to stare at your necklace, feeling overwhelmed by your gaze. You understood her, probably too much, it was always hard having to get over a nightmare you had moments prior.

You waited a few moments more before slowly reaching your hand away from her shoulder to her other one, pulling her into a soft embrace.

Your arms gently encasing her firmly, but not firm enough to where she feels suffocated. Feeling her shoulders slump and her breathing starting to even out, you rest your head above hers, feeling her breath hit the skin of your neck.

One of your hands reached up towards her hair, combing through her red locks, from her scalp to her ends. You stayed like this until you feel Natasha’s body slump into yours with dead weight.

Sneaking a glance at her face, you finally noticed she was asleep. She looked so graceful when she slept, as if she never had any worries to begin with. You wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to ask her out. Taking a deep breath, you reached under her, before lifting her up bridal style, taking her back to her room.

————♡————

You were exhausted, every limb of your body was screaming for you to just jump into your bed. You and Tony managed to save the mission before it failed, but tons of HYDRA agents jumped the both of you in return.

Finally stripped of your bloody suit, you limped your way to your bed. With each step you took, the drowsiness started becoming more overwhelming.

You fought to keep your eyes open as you draped the comforter over yourself, your body immediately relaxing from its tensed state as you laid sprawled out on your back.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to slowly shut and your breathing eventually evening out. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

But there was still a part of you that was conscious, even through all the exhaustion. You soon heard your door creak open and close with a small sound of the handle spinning back into place.

Quiet footsteps made their way towards your bed before it all went silent. You felt a shiver run through you as you felt eyes on you. Unbeknownst to you, those pair of eyes belonged to the specific Russian whom you gave permission to your room.

Natasha hesitated, she was stood at the foot of your bed. It had been a week since you gave her that offer. Every day since then, her nightmares had gotten progressively worse. She had thought about going to you sooner but then would back out, afraid to be a bother.

Tonights nightmare wasn’t any different from the rest, but she managed to wake herself up before the worst came. Now here she was, next to your bed as she watched the soft rise and fall of your chest while you lay sprawled out like a starfish.

Natasha clenched her jaw, still deep in thought. Should she really take up your offer? She could always go to the training room and let it all out there.

She sighed, rubbing a palm over her face as her eyes start to flutter. She was too deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed how tired she really was.

Letting out another heavy sigh, Natasha took a step forward and sat on the edge of your bed, scared you’d wake up if she’d put anymore weight.

But that thought flew out of her mind almost immediately once she felt a yawn crawling its way up her throat. Natasha gently grabbed the covers that you were buried beneath and curled up next to you.

As if sensing her presence, your arm found its way under her neck and around her back, resting on the curve of her waist and effectively pulling her closer to the warmth of your body.

Natasha’s eyes shoot open as they instantly land on you, wondering if you’d been awake the whole time. But the steady fall of your chest and the quiet snores coming from you seem to answer her question as she lays her head down on your chest.

The comforting sound of your heartbeat and breaths lulled Natasha as her eyes fluttered, but yet she still fought to stay awake, wanting to bask in the moment before she has to face you in the morning.

Natasha shifted impossibly closer to you as her arm reached over your waist and her leg intertwined with yours. She was practically bathing in the warmth that your body gave off, as her nose nuzzled into the juncture of your neck.

To her, it was honestly a dream to even be this close or intimate with you, especially with her infatuation. Soon enough, she was drifting off into a peaceful slumber, by your side.

#black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #mcu

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jayybugg · 11 months ago

Text

locker room activities

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco hates you.....or so you thought.

Warning: Language, Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Draco (?), Smut (18+), No Specific House Mentioned, Use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.6K

Note: Hi, here I am back again with another fic. It's not song-based this time, just my feral thoughts taking over for Draco. As always, thank you @pizzaapeteer for proofreading and @cafekitsune for the banner! Enjoy!

Draco Malfoy hated you.

You weren’t sure why, but you also didn't care enough to find out. In fact, you found amusement in seeing the blonde make a fool out of himself to prove his superiority. The glares he shot your way only made you giggle to yourself as you just simply ignored them majority of the time. But seeing him get riled up even more by your unbothered state always made your day.

"Another day of being an idiot, Malfoy?" you smiled lazily down at him sprawled out on the ground, his failed potion covering him.

"This is your fault! You charmed my potion to explode!" Draco shot to his two feet, glaring at you. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused at what he was even talking about. "Charmed your potion? I just got here.” you paused for dramatics. “After it exploded." You rolled your eyes at the stupidity of his accusation

"All you do is get under my skin and annoy me, Y/L/N." Draco snapped at you.

"I don't even do anything to you!" You felt your anger boil. This boy practically borderlines harasses you every day, but somehow, he was the victim? Makes sense coming from Draco.

"You do a lot of things to me!" Draco yelled at you. The chuckles from his table of friends was enough to turn him red and send him storming out of the classroom.

"Bloody hell is his problem?" You muttered to yourself, sitting down at the desk to start your potion.

You didn't see Draco for the rest of the day, figured that he probably skipped class and called his father to complain or try to get you kicked out of school. You soaked up the peace as much as you could.

"Madam Pince? Do you know where this book may be? I need it for my ancient runes class." You handed the woman a piece of paper with the title scribbled across it.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy checked it out." She returned the paper to you. You groaned softly. Of course, that imbecile had the book that you needed. "Granted, it's overdue, so he needs to return it. Why don't you go get it from him?" Madam Pince asked, looking over her glasses.

You knew this was her way of getting you to do her job. It was a known fact to everyone that Madam Prince hated to deal with Draco and the rest of his family.

You sighed, grabbing your stuff to go track down the blonde. You really needed that damn book. "Okay, I got it."

Luna was the first to see you, her smile staying wide. "Hey, Y/N!" she waved at you. Pansy turned at your approach and smiled at you. "Hey, what brings you here?"

"I was looking for you, actually." You leaned against the wall next to the girls. "I hate to interrupt the date, but I need your help, Parkinson."

"With what?" she raised her eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

"Got any idea where Malfoy is?"

Pansy's eyes widened in surprise. "Why are you looking for Draco?"

"Don't get any ideas, Pans. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince told me to get it from him because it's overdue." You poked the girl's forehead, making Luna laugh and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I was just surprised, that's all." Pansy defended herself, "He should be at quidditch practice, but by the time you get to the field, it'll probably be over and you'll have to wait till he comes out of the locker room."

"Okay, thanks! Bye, lovebirds." You waved the two girls goodbye, making your way over to the field.

Just like Pansy had said, by the time you got down to the field the practice was over. You stood by the entrance, hoping to catch Draco when he left and prayed that he had the book on him by any chance.

"Waiting for a hot date, y/n?" Mattheo asked, walking out with Theo as they exited the locker room first, surprised to see you waiting there.

"I wish." You rolled your eyes. "Waiting for Malfoy. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince has me doing her dirty work.”

"Ahhhh." Mattheo and Theo said, simultaneously grinning at you.

"What?" you raised an eyebrow at them.

"Oh nothing. This should be the highlight of his day." Theo smiled, patting your head. The two walked off, leaving you confused.

You continued to wait for Malfoy, watching the rest of the Slytherin team clear out of the locker room. After about another 20 minutes of waiting, you grew tired.

"What the fuck is he in there doing? His everything shower?" you muttered. You looked around at the empty hallway before sighing and pushing open the locker room door.

The locker area was completely empty, making you intensely bitter that Draco was probably in the shower. You walked up to his ajar locker to see all the quidditch equipment and no sign of your book.

"Of course, the asshole doesn't have it on him." You rolled your eyes. You looked around for any sign of him, but you didn't see him.

You walked closer to the showers, hearing water running. "Malfoy??" you called out, receiving a dead answer.

He had to be in here. He was the only one who didn't leave the locker room. You moved closer to the entrance of the shower seeing Draco lean against the wall of the shower with water dripping down him.

You eyed his physique slowly. Sure, the boy was annoying but Merlin, he was fine.

You couldn't pay too much attention to his physique because your eyes and mind finally registered what he was doing and saying.

"Fuck, Y/N. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." Draco cussed, throwing his head back as he jerked himself off. Your eyes widened as you heard your name spill out his mouth. Was Draco getting himself off to the thought of you?

You cleared your throat loudly. Draco's eyes shot open to see you standing at the entrance and taking in his naked form.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck are you doing in here?" Draco scrambled to turn the shower off and grab his towel.

"Well, I've been looking for you for probably the past hour or so." You said, your eyes staying trained on him.

"Looking for me? Why?" Draco asked. He glanced around the showers and out to the locker room, "Is nobody in here?"

"No, they all left 20 minutes ago. Getting ready for dinner, I assume." You walked closer to Draco, who was unconsciously backing away from you.

You had never seen Draco look scared, almost as if he wasn't sure what to do.

He looked like prey and you were the predator.

"W-why were you looking for me?" Draco asked again, as you continued to close the distance between you both.

You ignored his question, using this advantage to tease him. "How many times have you gotten off to the thought of me?"

Draco gripped his towel tighter, "Don't be foolish, Y/N. I don't get off to you. Never have and never will."

"I just saw you, Malfoy." You rolled your eyes, looking down at his dick, "And judging by how hard you are, I can guess that maybe this isn't the first time."

"Shit, you can see it through the towel?!" Draco clutched the towel closer to him to cover up the print, "Y/L/N, I'm begging you to just go and never speak about this again."

"Begging? That's new for you." A devilish smirk took over your features as you took a step closer to him. Draco felt his heart start to pound in his chest. You looked ready to devour him.

"Is this why you said I do a lot of things to you?" You dragged your finger down his bicep, pushing him against the wall.

A part of Draco was embarrassed that he got caught like this but the other part of Draco was getting so turned on that if he was given the chance to have his way, then he was going to take it.

"All this time, you've been so aggravated with me," Your hand fondled with the fabric of the towel that wrapped around his waist, "And it was all because of your dirty little fantasies."

"Y/N, please...." Draco's voice was soft and desperate. It was music to your ears.

"Please what?" You leaned in to lick softly at his neck, "Come on, use your words. Where's that big voice of yours from earlier?"

Draco didn't even know what he wanted to say. He couldn't decide if he wanted you to free him or to just have your way with him.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Malfoy." You whispered into his ear as you continued to tug at his towel.

"Fuck." He was done. Any shred of self-respect or restraint that he had was gone. Demolished. Non-existent.

"I'm waiting." you said in a sing-song voice. You were enjoying this.

"Suck me off. Please." Draco said.

You grinned, tugging his towel down and going to your knees. You licked your lips as you eyed his dick that was harder than you thought it was.

You coated your hand in spit, pumping him before you licked the length of him slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip, listening to Draco groaned deeply, his hands finding their way into your hair.

"Stop teasing." Draco muttered, looking down at you.

"But it's fun." You batted your eyes up at him.

That look alone almost made him cum. Draco gave you a grunt in response. You smiled, taking him in your mouth, and quickly got to work.

The lewd and slobbery sounds you were making with Draco's cock filling your mouth mixed with his moans and grunts caused your pussy to drench your panties. You reached around to the front of your school skirt and played with yourself as you continued to suck him off.

"Fuck, this is better than any dream. Your mouth is amazing. I just want to fuck your face," Draco said, looking down into your eyes that were already on him, "Can I?”

You nodded, pulling away to catch your breath as Draco gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his dick further down your throat. Draco wasted no time using your mouth to his pleasure, taking joy in the little gagging that you were doing. The sounds of your gags turning him on even more than he already was.

"Do you like that? Being treated like my fuck toy?" Draco groaned out, watching your eyes gleam with unknown emotion. You hummed in agreement, keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum," Draco moaned. His dick was hitting the back of your throat, repeatedly and unforgivingly. The closer Draco was getting to his climax, the sloppier his thrusts got. He let out a groan, releasing his cum deep down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, pulling away and wiping the spit that had drooled down your chin to your chest.

"I've never cummed from head before." Draco admitted, running a hand through his hair. You smiled, feeling your ego boost from his compliment.

"Well, there's a first time for everything." You stood up, gripping his dick that was still hard, "but I don't think it's fair that you get to cum and I don't."

Draco's eyes gleamed with excitement and lust. He leaned forward to nip at your ear. "Want to know what another one of my fantasies was?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, curiosity covering your face. Draco smirked as he turned you around to face the wall.

"It was to fuck you from behind against this wall."

He didn't waste time lifting your skirt up and sliding your panties to the side. He dragged his tip up and down your folds, making you whimper.

"Don't be a tease." You groaned.

"It's fun, remember?" He grinned, feeling his own cocky self return, "But I want to feel you, so I'm going to cut the fun short."

Draco slid into you, the action creating loud moans from both of you. He started thrusting fast and hard into you. The sound of your skins slapping together and the sounds of your moans filled the room. Any concern you had about someone walking in or hearing you was quickly thrown out the window.

“Fuck." You moaned.

"You feel so good. So tight and wet. Just for me, huh?" Draco whispered in your ear.

"Just for you." You whispered back. Draco continued his thrusts, slapping your ass as he went. His name spilling out of your mouth with a string of curse words.

You clenched around Draco, making him snake his hand around your neck to pull you up against him. "About to cum, baby? Cum on my dick like the good girl you are."

His words made your orgasm better than you ever thought it would be.

Draco spun you around and lifted you up, putting your legs over his shoulders and supporting you against the wall as he slid into you once again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, right there." You moaned as Draco drilled into you, leaving you no choice but to take all of him.

"You take me so well. So wet and so pretty." Draco covered your neck in kisses and marks before crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues explored each other's mouth as Draco continued to thrust into you roughly. It didn't take long for you and Draco to get close to your climax again.

“I’m going to fill you up. Have you walking out of this room full of me, and me only.” Draco grunted in your ear.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered, “Please do it.”

Draco groaned, releasing again inside of you. He pulled out of you and dropped you down to the ground softly. You gripped his arm and the wall for balance as your legs were shaking and you couldn't walk properly.

"If someone would've told me this morning that by the end of the day I would've fucked Draco Malfoy, I would've called them insane." You said, regaining your normal breathing patterns.

"I could say the same." Draco chuckled. He quickly wrapped a towel around him, looking down at you. "Your shirt is wet from the shower and the spit. Here, let me get my hoodie for you to wear."

You blushed as Draco pulled you to the locker area, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over your head.

"Thank you." You adjusted the hoodie. "So, you never answered my question."

Draco raised an eyebrow at you, pulling on his clothes quickly. "What question?"

"How long have you been having dreams about me?"

Draco paused, redness creeping up his neck, "I was hoping I would fuck you hard enough to make you forget."

"Oh, I'll never forget this."

Draco rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag, "I don't remember when they started or even when I felt an attraction to you. I just know that every night, upon recently, it's always just been you."

You nodded, gathering your stuff, "Well, hope it was better than you could've ever imagined."

"Oh, it was," Draco said, "You never answered my question either. Why were you in here in the first place?" A smile took over your face as you looked up at Draco with a mischievous expression.

"You checked out the book for the Ancient Runes homework. Madam Pince said it was overdue and since I need it, she sent me to get it from you."

"I don't have it on me," Draco said.

You smiled, walking to the door, "Oh, I know. I'll come around your dorm later and get it from you."

You pushed the door open and threw a wink his way. Draco let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his locker.

You were going to be the death of him.

#slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #draco malfoy x reader #smut #slytherin x reader #mattheo riddle #jayybugg fics

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