#love letters

[illbegottenfaith]

hehehhe thank youu im so glad you liked it!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still taken aback, Theo accepted the seat beside you 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fucking tiny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just - just let me, alright?”

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

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

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

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

Wasn’t that love?

[p-assionateheart]

[eyfay]

I wrote you a love letter I never sent you.

[colmeh]

I am a fool... I love you through and through despite the fact that it's almost impossible between us two.

I am a fool... I love you through and through despite the fact that every time I think of you, I have to let go.

[half-a-corpse-half-a-poet]

—Jonathan Carroll

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

I am waiting for your presence and I only wish for the simplest thing, to touch you, kiss you, chat with you, wake up next to you. Oh my beauty, my love, today the day of the month has two digits - In eleven days, it will be the legal spring, in fifteen or twenty days the real spring. Are you waiting for me, do you love me, do you desire me? That time passes and that you are finally mine, that's all I have the strength and the spirit to wish for. I love you.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, March 10, 1950 [#243]

[kzlatkova]

I have no riches to adourn you in jewels, nor any means to bathe you in flowers. The only blossoms I can offer, are the layers of my human heart.

Do not reach fot its centre, expecting the scent of sweet fuits, and do not abandon your quest, when met only with the rotting pomace of hurts past.

If you peel back its petals, slightly burnt, jagged, and devoured by plagues, do so only with fingers cast in iron and silver. There in the depths, you will find runes of your name.

Hold it gently, plant it in the earth, and water it with your laughter. Let it grow into a willow, so I may envelop you with my limbs and engulf you in my foliage.

So I may protect you from the wind, and caress you gently with kisses from my branches. Blanket you in shadows, safe and hidden from the sun's scorching hands.

Lay your head upon my trunk, and use my body as a shelter. Let me feel the touch of your hold, against the winding roots at your feet.

Stay with me beyond eternity, even if you are to fell me one day and hew me open in the middle of the forest floor. Then still from my core would tumble out no other treasure, but endless shreds, littered only with letters of your name.

[star-girlfriend]

Did u get my vibes man?

[mrgrim]

Hot heavy obsessive possessive romantic passionate lustful love. If not, what’s the point.

[ticklingtimetickstotest]

[14thcupid]

made of love & made to love

[colmeh]

If you only know how unbearable it is for me to write romantic lines, perhaps you would understand the depth of my longing for you.

[dumblr]

“Oh, to be loved by a writer.”

[half-a-corpse-half-a-poet]

(via-achingchest)

[metamorphesque]

from Vahan Teryan's letter to Nvard Toumanyan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)