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amourane · 8 months ago

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so this is love

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.7k

summary: there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

warnings: none!

a/n: i honestly love this so much and it's so so sooo cute!

Theodore Nott was many things. Quiet, judgmental, emotionless and most importantly handsome. One of the prettiest boys in Hogwarts yet the most unapproachable. No one had ever seen a smile grace his lips and if you had tried to converse with the Slytherin he would only stare at you with blank eyes waiting for you to go away. He spoke little words but it was enough for people to get the point. Unlike his rowdy group of friends, he wouldn’t merrily join in conversation, rather make snarky remarks every now and then, an uninterested look always on his face. A scowl or a smirk always tugged at his lips as he listened to what his friends had to say.

Even though Theo never voiced his thoughts out loud he always knew what to think. His mind was constantly running at a hundred miles per hour. Every little thing he wanted to say flitted through his mind. It was as if his head was a cacophonous symphony.

Yet as he looked at the girl in yellow robes his mind was oddly quiet. He watched her silently as she dropped her ingredients into her cauldron. It was a rare moment. One he had discovered a month ago when he had finished his potion early and looked around to see if anyone else was done. There you were. Eyes scanning the contents of your Potion’s book but it was quite clear you had finished brewing whatever was in your cauldron as you leaned back into your seat.

Theo’s mind was silent.

There were no thoughts, no opinions, no judgments. He stared at you and it made him uneasy. There was something about you that unnerved him. He didn’t recall you from his other classes and it was the first time he had even seen you in Potions. As he felt the comforting silence settle in his head he concluded one thing - you were interesting and he was going to keep an eye on you.

“Nott, mate, what are you doing? I’ve been asking you to pass me a quill for about a century, have you suddenly gone deaf?” Blaise nudged Theo out of his trance and the brunette blinked for a second before passing over a quill. His partner frowned before following where his eyeline previously was and he smirked. “Still obsessing over the little Hufflepuff I see. Who knew you were capable of having feelings.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

“I never said you did.” Blaise’s smirk widened. “You came up with that on your own.”

Theo felt his face heat up. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like you, not in the slightest. He was merely fascinated at how you were able to turn his manic mind into a state of tranquillity. He looked over. You were talking to your partner beside you and Theo assumed she had said something funny because a grin had overtaken your pretty features and a giggle slipped past your lips. Theo didn’t fancy you but he couldn’t deny that you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“He’s staring again.” Hannah said as she poked your side to get your attention. “It’s like he’s drilling holes into your skull. Do you think he wants to hex you?”

You looked up from your cauldron with a frown as you faced your friend. “He doesn’t stare at me, don’t be silly Hannah. I’m sure he has a reason for looking this way.”

“Y/n you’re terrible at finding excuses for anything. It’s so obvious he’s looking at you and his glare is starting to scare me a bit.”

Behind your fellow Hufflepuff was Theodore Nott. Your eyes glaze over his perfectly tousled hair and his dark coloured eyes. He really was handsome. You watch as he says something to Blaise and you see a tint of pink touch his cheeks. Cute. You smiled to yourself. Merlin, he was really cute.

Theodore Nott had been watching you for a few weeks now and you weren’t oblivious enough to not notice the Slytherin’s gaze. At first you didn’t know how to react when you first felt his eyes on you. It was weird. Every time you would turn around he would already be looking down at his piece of parchment, scribbling something down with his quill. You had never caught him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. The piercing feeling of his stare made goosebumps rise on your skin. In a way you found it endearing. Sometimes you would turn around and find him, nose deep in his textbook and you could faintly see the tips of his ears blush red. It was those times you would giggle to yourself.

It was arrogant to assume that Theo felt that way about you but for some reason you couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the thought he might. That someone like him would even think about going out with someone like you. That the cutest guy in your year would fancy you. Then reality came crashing back and you knew that a Slytherin would never be seen with a Hufflepuff much less date one.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n? You still there?” Hannah waved her hand in front of your face. “Merlin, one mention of Nott and you go all dreamy on me. When are you going to ask him out then?”

Your cheeks flared up with heat and you couldn’t help a smile that tugs at your lips. “Shush Hannah.” You try to sound serious but with your blushing face and bright grin it’s hard to do so.

“You’re actually whipped, Y/n.” Hannah let out a laugh and you let a giggle slip past your lips at her statement. You didn’t feel the need to deny it after all, maybe it held some truth.

Theodore Nott always knew what to say and when but as he stood in front of you he found himself speechless. Now as his eyes wandered over your delicate hands and beautiful face he couldn’t find the words that needed to be said. His mind was quiet again. Silence. He opened his mouth to apologise for bumping into you and nearly knocking you over but no words came out. So he did the next best thing, help you grab your books.

You were scrambling to grab scrap pieces of parchment that had escaped the grasps of your books and Theo grabbed the Herbology textbook you had dropped. He watched as you gathered your things before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled and he felt his heart stop. Suddenly it was as if he was being engulfed in a tidal wave. There was a twinkle in your eyes and it set off a spark in his chest that he didn’t know was there. Theo felt himself grow hot as you stared at him and for the first time in his life he felt self conscious.

“Thank you.” You said and he felt his ears ring as your voice echoed through his mind. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was in a rush to get to my next class. I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

A beat passed.

Theo blinked. He watched as your bright expression slowly morphed into one of concern. He watched as you reached out to touch his arm.

“Theodore?”

“It’s Theo.” Is the only thing he can think to say before he realised how it must’ve sounded rude. “But you can call me Theodore. I don't mind.”

Another beat passed.

The two of you were now standing in the middle of the hallway as other students passed by. Theo could hear their whispers as they looked. The curious eyes wondering what a Slytherin could possibly be talking to a Hufflepuff about. For a second Theo thinks he’s upset you and you’re going to storm off but he’s proven wrong. The bright smile returned to your face.

“Well Theo, I’m going to need my Herbology textbook back, I’ve already been late twice this week.”

“O-Oh yes right, sorry I forgot.”

Theodore Nott has never once stumbled over his words. Yet as he stood in front of you he found himself wrapped in a world he had never known before. He felt himself grow even warmer and he reached a hand to loosen the emerald tie around his neck. This was unlike him. He never went speechless, he never struggled to find a smart quip or retort and he most definitely never stuttered. You brought out a side to him that was new and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.

“Thank you for helping me Theo, I’ll see you in Potions.” You waved goodbye as you hurried off down the hallway.

Theo’s eyes remained glued onto your frame as you ran. A rising bubbly feeling began in his chest and he felt his heart quicken. He gulped. You had long disappeared from his view but he still felt a burning sensation on his cheeks and he tried to cool himself down with his hands but it served no use. Giving up, he turned away and marched down the hall determined to figure out whatever he was feeling.

“You know staring at her won’t make her your girlfriend Nott.” Mattheo smirked as he watched his best friend. The others at the Slytherin table tittered with laughter and Theo rolled his eyes. He was now used to his friend’s teasing and even though it was relentless he didn’t pay any attention to it. Why would he? It wasn’t true anyway.

“Very funny Riddle.”

“You know me Theo, always the jokester.” He winked as he sipped the pumpkin juice in his cup.

“But seriously Theo you should ask her out if you like the girl. Salazar, it's better than drilling holes in the back of her head.”

“Pansy’s right Nott, we’re all tired of you mooning over the girl just go ask her out already and then the two of you can go snog in the broom cupboard.” Draco snickered and the other Slytherins erupted into another round of laughter.

“Well you’ve got it all wrong I don’t fancy her.” Theo looked at his friends with a scowl present on his face. “She makes me feel all these things and I hate it. I hate how different it is. I hate how quiet everything gets when I look at her. I hate how she makes me feel and it’s all horrible and downright disgusting. It’s like I’ve got a fever whenever I’m around her and I’ve somehow contracted some life-threatening heart disease. My mouth dries up and I stumble over what I say and it’s not like me at all. So no, you’ve all got it wrong because I don't fancy her.”

With that Theo leaves the table, dinner untouched, with red cheeks and a rapidly beating heart. His friends watched dumbfounded as their friend trudged away. They all exchange knowing glances before shaking their heads at his obliviousness to his own feelings.

“That guy seriously needs to realise that sometimes not being an emotionless prick isn’t going to kill him.” Pansy dug into her beef as she scoffed at her friend’s stupidity.

Unbeknownst to the Slytherins a certain Hufflepuff was watching as their friend stormed off, her eyes never once leaving his ruby red face and the angry glare that accompanied it. She excused herself from her table before slipping away to follow a certain brunette.

Annoyance was the main thing that Theodore Nott felt at the moment. Anger at the persistence that he had a crush on you when he didn’t, he knew he didn’t. You had cast some sort of spell on him. Some sort of hex that made him notice every little bit about you. The way your smile lit up the room, the way your laughter echoed in his mind like the happy tinkering of a bell. Every second he saw you it was as if you overtook his senses. Clouding his sight with your beauty, suffocating him with your sweet scent, muffling his ravenous thoughts until everything was calm.

When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt an overwhelming emotion, one that he couldn’t explain, but it made his hectic thoughts still and as cheesy as it sounded it made time itself stand still. When Theodore Nott looked at you he noticed every fine small detail like the way you like to smile at yourself whenever you get a question right or the way you tap your fingers on the desk when you’re concentrating. When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt his heart soar and he isn’t used to feeling this unnatural emotion that had been brewing inside of him.

He didn’t even notice you were behind him until he heard your voice. Soft and gentle and kind. He spun around. You had a look of concern etched upon your face and you stepped closer towards him and he backed away feeling his heart quicked once again. He glared at you hoping that his stare would force you to go away and would force whatever he was feeling to disappear.

“Are you okay Theo? I saw you leave and you didn’t touch your food, did something happen?”

You were so caring, so nice, so calm. You were so many things and Theo couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take looking at you when he could hear his heart pumping. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, backing away further.

You frowned. “I haven’t done anything Theo. Are you sure you’re okay you look quite red and-”

“You’re lying.” He seethed. “You’re lying because why are you making me feel these things? Why does my mind go quiet, my thoughts stop, the words fail? There’s no explanation to this. I don’t understand why my heart races and everything suddenly feels hotter around me. I don’t understand this feeling I have inside me, some magnetic force that keeps pulling me to you. You’re everywhere Y/n.”

His glare intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. “I look at you and I feel things I’ve never felt before, this bubbly warm feeling. Whenever I’m around you I can’t think of what to say. I close my eyes and I see your smile, your eyes. I can hear your laughter even if we’re in the noisiest classroom. You’re everywhere Y/n. So tell me, what have you done to me?”

A beat of silence.

The both of you stare at each other. Your frown had long gone and now you simply looked at the Slytherin in front of you trying to decipher his anger.

“It’s love Theo.” You take a step closer. “All the things you’ve just said - it’s love.”

Theo froze. His expression remained stony yet his eyes betrayed his thoughts as he looked away for a second. He blinked before looking at you once again. Your eyes, the eyes he couldn’t help but notice everywhere he went, looked back at him. His mind was no longer quiet. An outbreak of noise erupted inside his head and he struggled to grasp what was going on. He couldn’t focus. All he could hear was his own voice in his mind, overlapping, shouting, screaming, crying. It all came crashing down and Theo didn’t know what to do.

Then your lips collided with his and he stilled. The noise died down. Chaos ceased. Theo let his eyes flutter shut as he kissed you back with fervour. Your lips were soft and you tasted sweet like strawberries. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you were warm as you leaned into his touch. He felt your arms tangle in his hair and he smiled at the feeling. This felt right. This didn’t feel weird or disgusting. It was something he never thought he would feel.

The both of you broke apart and you blinked looking at Theo with your beautiful eyes. His heart continued to race. You beamed up at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. You were so pretty, so gorgeous and you had just kissed him. His mind was finally quiet again. The strange feeling that filled his body now didn’t feel so foreign at all in fact it felt natural as he gazed at you.

“It’s love Theodore Nott. That’s what you feel.” You give him another kiss. “And it’s what I feel too.”

Theodore Nott was many things but as he closed his eyes to kiss you once again there is only one thing that he wants to be - in love with you.

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #slytherin boys #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

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lqveharrington · 4 months ago

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The Alchemy | D.M.

summary: Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: FLUFF, established relationship (and a last name of Evergreen for the reader)

a/n: inspired by the olympics recently ❤️

When Draco asked you out in fourth year, you thought it was a joke. Sure, you were both acquainted due to your pure wizardry bloodline, but you were in Hufflepuff. The only time the other houses thought you were useful was when they wanted to sneak into the kitchen. So when he came up and sat down beside you when you were studying potions, you were disheartened.

“Malfoy, please don’t do this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just starting to understand what ingredients made a truth serum.

“Do what? I’m asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” He spun the Malfoy signet ring adorning his hand.

You look up at him with tired eyes, “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No no, I—“ He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at how you were able to fluster him with even a small glance. “I’m really asking you to go on a date with me.”

You search his face for any indication of a lie, before biting your lip softly and looking down at your parchment. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Draco dropped his hand onto yours to stop your fidgeting with the quill.

You felt your own face heat up at the notion. He thumbed your palm softly as you stayed quiet, not minding his closeness. Finally, you looked up at him, “You have yourself a date, Malfoy.” He sent you a soft smile but before he could say anything else, you interrupted. “Please don’t let me down.”

Draco never let you down. Despite your earlier doubts, you saw how kind and thoughtful the Malfoy heir was underneath his hardened shell his father had built around him. In private, he was always attentive, loving, clingy — there wasn’t a moment where he was separated from you. In public, he had to rein in those feelings just for you.

Even when you started your seventh year at Hogwarts, you were still terrified what others at school would say about a Hufflepuff dating the Slytherin Prince. Sure, his parents and your parents knew, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. You had asked Draco to keep your relationship private until you were ready to face the reality of your relationship to the rest of the world. He begrudgingly agreed, respecting your wishes; but the need to kiss you in front of the entire student body to rightly claim that you were his was wavering.

Especially when it had been three years since you first started dating. And right now, you were currently hiding below the stands together as you greeted him with good luck kisses for his final quidditch match as a student in Hogwarts.

“I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. You say softly as he holds you close by your hips — smiling into all your kisses. “Good.” Kiss. “Luck.” Kiss.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Draco murmurs against your lips. He pulls away gently to look at your ever so loving gaze. He draws small hearts on you hip, “You done?”

“Never.” You kiss him again, hands cupping his jaw. “I want you to be stuck with me forever.”

He hums into the kiss as you thumb his cheeks softly, “I will after I win this game, my love.”

You separate again, grinning like a lovesick puppy. “Good luck, Dray. I’ll see you later.” You press one last kiss to his lips before leaving his arms and running up the Hufflepuff stands to cheer. You couldn’t deny that even after all these years he still made you giddy and red.

Draco shook his head with a soft smile only you could coax out of him. He walked out from the stands and hopped on his broom, ready in the air for his final match as Slytherin’s seeker. Cheers filled the stadium as the players took their place, captains shaking hands.

The final match for Slytherin and Gryffindor was probably the most anticipated all year round. Since it was also Harry Potter’s last game as seeker, and the two seekers were known as rivals, it was hyped up to be one of the best end matches of the season.

As the game progressed, Slytherin and Gryffindor were constantly tied. It was really up to the seekers to find the golden snitch to determine the winner. There were bets taking place in the house stands, mind fixated on earning a few galleons for the last time. For the Hufflepuff stands, they were a house divided. Many cheered for scarlet and gold while the other half cheered for green and silver.

You didn’t mind the division between your house. After all, you only watched the games for Draco. Your friends were cheering for the Gryffindors whilst you carried the small Slytherin flag in your hands — eyes trained on the blonde high above the game itself. The second you blinked from the blazing sun, Draco was soaring after the golden snitch, Harry close behind and eventually flying right next to him.

The shouts from the stands only fueled the seekers’ attention to the flying gold. Draco and Harry were chasing in circles after the snitch, attention focused on nothing else even as the bludger zoomed past them.

You held your breath as they both reach out for the snitch. Your friend held your shoulder in anticipation, watching the two closely. Before you could register what happened, she gasped and shook your shoulders in frustration.

“I lost ten galleons to that!” She sighed heavily as Draco flashed the golden snitch in the air.

The rush of the win made you scream happily with the other Hufflepuffs and houses cheering for the Slytherin team. You wear clapping your hands as the team began flying around in victory. You watched as Draco flew around the stands more as the rest of the Slytherin team settled on the grounds. His eyes scanned the stadium until they lit up when they saw you at the very front of the Hufflepuff stands — waving your Slytherin flag with pride.

“Seems like Malfoy is off showing the last snitch he’ll catch for the Slytherin quidditch team! But we all want to know where the trophy is!” The third year announcer spoke, voice casted across the stadium.

You smiled at Draco softly when you finally met his eyes. And before you knew it, he flew right over to you and cupped your face, kissing you senselessly. You grinned into the kiss as you held his cheeks, the shouts and screams from your housemates blending in your ears.

“Aw, quite a beautiful way to celebrate the win. Don’t you think so, McGonagall? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting Malfoy and Evergreen�� Ow, sorry.” The third year announcer spoke once more, rubbing the spot the professor lightly hit them with a newspaper.

You part from Draco with a blinding smile, “I think I agree, this is a beautiful way to celebrate.” You say quietly only for him to hear, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Draco nudges your nose with his to gently stop your kisses for a second — even though he did want more.

“Me? You just won the quidditch cup for your house!” You laugh while wrapping your arms behind his neck, careful in trying not to pull him off his broom.

He rubbed the apples of your cheeks, “You just let me kiss you in front of the entire student body… I think that’s more important.” He pulled you in for another mind searing kiss, making you smile helplessly.

“AGAIN?” The third year announcer shouted into the microphone once more. “Is there—“

“Alright, we’re done announcing, boys and girls.” Professor McGonagall spoke and shut the speakers off; although she was quite happy for the couple.

You giggled as he pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

Draco pressed kisses to your cheek repeatedly, “I love you more.”

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swordgrace · 4 months ago

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& 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈’𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ gwayne hightower x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: you and your husband decide to take advantage of the quiet gardens near the red keep.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: drabble — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 4.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), porn with little plot, risk of getting caught, semi-public sex, gwayne is a switch, cunt-drunk gwayne, sex in the red keep gardens, teasing, hair-pulling kink, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, groping, making out, dirty talk, mild praise kink, p in v sex (unprotected), mild scratching, soft ending.

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am on the Gwayne train right now, I just adore writing for him. This is a smaller story, and I think writing some drabbles might do me a bit of good! I hope that you all enjoy! ❤️ Thanks so much for the love & support!

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐩, 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚.

The smell was akin to a perfumed dowager, the air thick with roses and honey, petals drifting along in the evening breeze. It was a stark contrast to the pungent scent of the rest of the city — perhaps that is why you favored the gardens.

Orange tendrils of a waning sun spread across the leaves, verdant and bright, turning the gardens all sorts of colors — shades of emerald and gold, intermingling with the many flowers there.

Most souls that had occupied the gardens had made themselves scarce, turning it into a paradise that only you shared with another. You often admired the general splendor even when it was crowded, but now, it gave you a rather unobstructed view.

The various palette of the gardens, particularly any deeper shades of forest-green, matched that of your husband’s doublet, embroidered with golden thread. It was strange to see Gwayne removed from his armor, his silvery vassal that kept him well-protected.

In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, there were days spent in respite, much to your delight. Though, war would steal him away from you again — you intended on making the most out of each moment, beseeching him to remain by your side. He obliged you, fortunately, and you never objected to it.

A golden hour, brightest before dusk, painted you in shades that Gwayne had committed to memory, your features bathed in dying light. You were swathed in gowns of cerulean, a deeper shade of azure that had brought him to heel when you emerged with it on.

Merrily, he often touted that he had the most beautiful wife in all of the realm, and such a sentiment didn’t change nor waver. It was resolute, done with a fondness that made its way to you.

“Perhaps, once this conflict comes to a close, you and I shall return to Oldtown,” Gwayne’s gallant resonance cut through the contented silence, his timbre often filled with regality, the elegant poise of a well-learned Knight. “I’ve grown surfeited by this grisly place.”

If Gwayne had not been so proficient with a blade, you suspected that a quill and his sharp tongue would’ve done him a world of good in another lifetime. His flowery speech had charmed you time and time again, and you were left captivated.

Oldtown had become your home, a sanctuary of which you and Gwayne had built a peaceful life together. With Prince Daeron in your care, it was something of a family — one that you suspected would grow in the near future.

“As have I,” With a gentle sigh, your fingers danced along his velvet-clad forearm, your arm interlaced with his as he led you through the teeming labyrinth. At twilight, it had become wonderfully quiet, a place of solace away from the bustling hum of the Red Keep. “It is a dour place.”

Dour was a mere understatement — Gwayne knew what harm this city could do, crushed beneath the oppressive weight of the Red Keep. Even in its architectural splendor, it remained a shadow, haunting your every step as it loomed above the both of you.

Even in the sanctuary of the Gardens, one could not escape it. He did not envy his sister for being sequestered here for most of her lifetime — he imagined that it likely led to a path of misfortune and frustration. Being in Oldtown, he could afford many liberties, freedoms that weren’t permitted in King’s Landing.

As you continued on your path, a stone terrace opened before you, a comely overlook with a sizable gazebo, marked by dimly-lit torches. Save for the picturesque view of Blackwater Bay, it was surrounded by foliage and flora on all sides.

Gwayne felt your concern in waves, an unspoken sentiment, knowing that he would be called to leave again. Cole’s armies were rallying to march to Harrenhal, and he was summoned to ride alongside him, the second-in-command. You had made your disdain for this known, and Gwayne couldn’t fault you for it.

“I would sorely dislike it if our time together was to be spent in silence,” He watched you through cerulean hues as you rounded the gazebo, moving toward the overlook. Waves gently lapped at the outcropping of rock, breaking upon it, saltwater kisses peppering your cheeks. “I have a duty, dearest.”

A begrudging sigh tore past your lips, and you staved off the sudden onslaught of turmoil. You had come to-terms with the inevitability of his departure — you had dealt with it once before, but the sting never lessened. “I understand. I loathe you and love you for it.” You murmured, your smile threadbare.

Your answer retained a twinge of lightheartedness to it, in the face of a bleak future. Gwayne couldn’t help but scoff, visage dancing with amusement as he stepped toward one of the massive walls of gardenias. Plucking a pale blossom from its stem, he crossed the stone to you, a gesture of affection.

“Loathe me, is that it?” Gwayne wouldn’t have your last moments together spent in melancholy — and you seemed to be in agreement. He placed the blossom behind your ear, carefully tucking it into place. “Have I vexed you so easily?”

Planting a palm against his chest, you allowed your fingertips to trace across plated velvet, dancing toward the Hightower sigil, embroidered into the collar. He was resplendent in noblemen’s garb, painfully handsome and fresh-faced, save for the healing cut upon his lip and bruised brow.

A taut, muscled arm moved to snake around your waist, effortlessly caging you in against him. Your saccharine scent invaded his senses, swarming around his head like a thick haze, one that he delighted in. Beneath the evening sky, he made his ardor for you known, a real and living thing.

“You are swift to credit yourself, husband. I may resort to knocking you from your pedestal.” You teased, tender voice growing softer, a mere purr to his ears. Gods, you were wonderfully divine — Gwayne brazenly squeezed your hip through your gowns, auburn brows lifting in amusement.

Instead of puffing his chest with a playful retort, Gwayne could no longer resist the tempting curve of your lips, craning down to kiss you. It was a sweet mingling of mouths, slow and exploratory, happy to take their time with one another.

The first inklings of an amorous heat crackled between the both of you, a rapturous hunger that hadn’t been sated since he returned from Rook’s Rest. You simply could not get enough of your beloved husband, hands clamoring from his plush doublet to his mane of copper tresses, gripping them tightly.

Even with the thicker material of your dress, Gwayne greedily grasped at your curves, able to feel the pliant swell of your physique beneath. You had already seduced him with your steep necklace and ample bosom — sometimes, you were more of a salacious minx than you were a maiden. He enjoyed you both ways.

Your chambers in the Red Keep seemed so far away, and neediness began to take root, desire flourishing where propriety could not. As you insistently tugged upon his auburn locks, Gwayne felt his cock stir to life within his trousers, twitching as if to remind him of his carnal need for you.

“Incomparable, I must confess,” Gwayne exhaled, hot breath fluttering across your visage. Hints of wine retained their presence upon his tongue, skin smelling of woodland musk and fine soaps. “Not a single wandering eye to find us here.” His timbre dropped into a delectable purr, lips pressing themselves to the curve of your jaw.

Exhilaration struck at the pit of your stomach, coupled with the familiar wave of arousal, its inklings slick and warm between your legs. “What are you implying, husband?” You asked, breathy and wanton, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

A low, teasing hum slipped betwixt his lips, mouth molding to your flesh, gliding across the slender column of your throat. One hand dropped to cup your derrière through the thicker material of your dress, longing to see it around your feet, instead.

A sheepish moan tore past your mouth, unabashedly stoking the fire that simmered between the both of you. Gwayne greedily lapped at your sweet skin, like a thick honey upon his tongue. “It is just you and I, sweetling. Might you indulge me?” He hummed, desperate to have you now that desire had taken hold.

Gods, you wanted him terribly.

It was a fascinating twist, with Gwayne wanting to have you here, given the publicity of the locale. He was often a man to take you to your chambers in the name of chivalry, but this daring, yearning side to him — you quite enjoyed it, his change of heart.

“Gods, I love you.” You sighed, feeling him relocate the both of you towards one of the thick, stone columns that held the gazebo aloft. It was rough against your back, but you cared little for it, hastily unlacing the bodice of your dress. The silken smallclothes you wore beneath would suffice.

A low, stifled groan escaped Gwayne’s mouth, cerulean hues sharp and amatory, roving over you with a thinly-veiled desire. “Seven Hells, you drive me to the brink of madness, wife.” He murmured, swiftly relieving you of that mound of azure velvet.

The simple slip you wore beneath clung to your curves, accentuating your physique in pale shades of ivory, nipples peeking through the thin material. His hand slithered beneath, seeking to find the slick heat of your cunt, pushing your legs apart with his thigh.

Gathering your slip within your hands, you tugged the material up, until it pooled around the swell of your hips, giving him unhindered access. Gwayne careened forward, mouth colliding with yours, lips desperately craving every fiber of your being.

His other hand moved to cup your breast through your gown, thumb languidly swiping over your pebbled nipple, teasing the bud as he rolled it between his fingers. A sharp, noisy gasp escaped you, followed by the unrestrained sound of a moan.

Your hands clamored to perch atop his shoulders, sinking down into the velvet, longing to see him naked. If you closed your eyes, it was easy to imagine, but you desired the real thing. With haste, your digits slipped toward the line of golden clasps along the front, aiming to get it unbuttoned.

“You minx.” Gwayne panted into your mouth, digits beginning to stroke along your slit. Much to his delight, you were already warmed, wet and honey-thick upon his fingers. Lips twined in hot clashes, and he never allowed it to devolve into something sloppy. Each kiss possessed meaning, a fervent love for you.

As you unclasped his doublet, he moved his arms enough to relinquish the stuffy weight of the fabric, musculature lean and taut, his skin pale and glittering in the gentle twilight. It let you squeeze his shoulders, tracing over the freckles there, reveling in his bare flesh.

Gwayne released a few breathy ‘I love you’s’ into your lips, before he relocated to the sensitive column of your throat. He spoke with reverence, as if he had come to worship his goddess, lay himself down at your feet. Your fingers wove themselves against the nape of his neck, tugging on his copper locks.

Practiced, dexterous digits continued to caress along your cunt, before pushing past your folds. He grazed your clit, sending a rush of goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. “Gwayne,” You moaned, the sweetest melody to his ears as you rocked forward, desperate for any shred of friction. “Please!”

His cock twitched again within his breeches, aching with something powerful, needing to be inside of you. Patience was his virtue and his agony — he still wanted to taste your first. He continued to knead into your breast, evoking another blissful whine from you.

Despite wearing his honor and chivalry like a coat of armor, he cared little for the consequences of potentially being caught. He would ravish his beloved wife here in these gardens — there was no sin in such an act. Kissing along your jugular, he felt you grip and pull on his hair, filling him with an excitable fire.

“Gods, I must taste you,” Gwayne groaned, voice tinged with an alluring husk, palm continuing to caress the plush swell of your breast. The thin, silken strap of your slip began to sag, and he did not fix it, exposed to the unblemished plane of your collarbone. “If you will permit me to do so.”

“You needn’t ask, husband,” A wanton whimper left you when Gwayne’s digits abandoned your cunt, though it would soon be replaced with the fine heat of his greedy tongue. Through a lovesick gaze, you observed in rapturous silence as Gwayne sank to his knees, as if he were preparing to pray. “I belong to you.”

Watching his auburn crown move towards the apex of your thighs was a most tantalizing sight, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. Molten heat surged within your belly, churning with a violent anticipation as you braced one hand atop his shoulder.

A sight to die for, to kill for — Gwayne would’ve fought a thousand battles if it meant that you were the reward at the very end, a resplendent maiden in all of your glory. He would’ve endured torture unimaginable for you, razed down armies, destroyed cities all for you.

The first lap of his tongue caused your knees to buckle, raking hot embers across your cunt. He wedged his way in between your legs, shoulders keeping you apart just enough. Gwayne was quite candid about his enjoyment of tasting you — thoroughly cunt-struck.

A groan stirred within his chest as your fingers grazed through his copper tresses, finding their purchase near the base of his skull. He did not relent, tongue carefully splitting past your folds, greeted by the saccharine onslaught of your arousal.

“Gwayne.” A breathy sigh tore past your parted lips, lulled into subservience from the steady, exploratory laps of his tongue. He was sluggish, allowing the anticipation to mount, nose brushing along your mound.

Your taste was ambrosial, thick and heady, like a haze that he had no desire to escape from. There were many moments where he’d dreamed of this, on the march to Rook’s Rest, sprawled across his cot, fantasizing of you again and again.

He quite enjoyed the way in which you sighed his name, passion bubbling forth from your chest, head rolled back against the stone column. Careworn palms reached for your haunches, delighted to take their fill of you, caressing along the backs of your thighs.

“Exquisite,” Gwayne exhaled, catching his breath to press a string of kisses all along the inside of your thighs. “By the Seven, you taste divine.” He groaned, drunk and dizzy from your cunt. A soft moan escaped you as you coaxed him back, and he willingly obliged.

With another hot, eager lap of his tongue over your core, your knees rattled like leaves in the breeze, feeling his shoulders bully their way between your legs. A brusque, warm breeze fluttered throughout the gazebo, bathed in the waning light of the sunset. Stars began to glisten overhead, unhindered by the clouds.

Gwayne’s eagerness was palpable, able to be felt as he buried his face into your cunt, cerulean eyes fluttering shut in an expression of bliss. A groan stirred within his throat, fluttering throughout his chest as you fisted his auburn tresses, soft beneath your palms.

You could not get enough of him, keeping your hands on him in whatever way you could, chest heaving with wanton sighs. Carnality and desire permeated the air, the atmosphere thick with desperation. You always treated each moment as if it would be your last.

His mouth fervently worked against your slick cunt, sending pleasant shockwaves into the pit of your stomach. Goosebumps danced along your spine, followed by a shiver that made you moan. Your hips rolled forward, shamelessly grinding yourself into your husband’s waiting lips.

With a flick of his tongue, Gwayne sought the pearl of your cunt, lips eagerly kissing their way to your clit. He planted feather-light kisses around that sensitive clutch of nerves, causing you to tremble, digits tightening within his hair. Your grip was ironclad, but it was pleasurable for him, knowing you were enjoying yourself.

“Gods, Gwayne,” You whined, listening to the lewd noises of your chivalrous paramour suckling on your clit. Another onslaught of molten heat swirled within your stomach, seeping into your bones, manifesting as arousal between your thighs. “Do — Do not stop!” The urgency in your voice had increased exponentially.

If there were any evening stragglers in the Royal Gardens, you prayed to the Seven that they would not stumble upon the both of you.

The sight itself was inherently sinful, with you haplessly pressed against the stone column, gallant dress strewn across the ground, slip sagging along your physique. Gwayne’s emerald doublet had joined your garments below. You reveled in the sight of his head between your thighs, causing you to whimper.

Gwayne could detect when you were accelerating towards your release, able to feel the twitches and tremors in your thighs. He soothingly stroked along your silky flesh, interchanging between the greedy suckling of your clit, to long, broad strokes of his tongue.

His lips glistened with a sticky sheen of your nectar, of a finer stout than many, more delectable than any wine that had befallen his mouth. Gwayne worshiped you, kissed the ground you walked upon, and he did not feel an ounce of shame in it.

His cock throbbed with a desperate ache, precum slick around the head as it strained against his trousers. Your own satisfaction spurred him on, and your delightful noises only sent him spiraling into the depths of depravity. You hadn’t a clue of the things you did to him.

In a brazen maneuver, his tongue prodded against your entrance, gingerly thrusting inside of you. You gasped, biting at the inside of your cheek, digits raking through his auburn locks. You let your grip loosen, hips careening forward into his mouth again.

Gwayne ravished you, with the ravenous appetite of a starving dog. He moved back just enough to lap at your cunt, making a blazing trail from your entrance to your clit. “I’m close,” You huffed, issuing some warning to him before the dam had burst altogether. “Gwayne!”

It was the only word you knew in the present, his name — it rolled from your tongue in a delighted cry, laced with ardor and reverence. You reached your peak, shamelessly spilling yourself upon his tongue, and he was enamored with you.

With careful, sluggish strokes of his tongue, he delicately cleaned the mess he made of you, allowing you to bring yourself down from your peak. Even if the intensity had made you burn at a fever pitch, you were far from finished, tugging on Gwayne’s tresses to get his attention.

“Take me, husband,” It wasn’t a request — it was a demand, a command made upon a yearning wife. Desire glistened like a thick sheen within his cerulean eyes, which happened to widen at the sight of you. “Please.” You didn’t have to beg — Gwayne wanted you just as terribly.

He swiftly rose from between your legs, pupils dilated with lust as he steered you toward the stone bannister of the overlook, wide enough to support you. You sat down, hastily fumbling with the leather ties of his trousers. Gwayne parted your legs again, bending over you as he sought your mouth.

The taste of arousal — yours — fell heavy upon your tongue, lips clashing together as you desperately sought to free his cock from its confines. “I need you,” Gwayne husked against your mouth, pearlescent teeth briefly snagging on your lower lip. “Gods, how I’ve missed this, missed you.”

“Gwayne,” A moan escaped you, intermingling with his husky pants and sonorous groans. His forehead nudged against yours, lips hot and needy, and you were more than happy to reciprocate. “I need you, I …” Your voice tapered off when his cock slid against your folds.

He kept you steady, hands caging you against the bannister, the stone biting into your back as he kept you at an angle. Silk gathered around your hips, friction wafting between the both of you as he thrust forward, cock sinking into you.

Hitching a leg around his waist as best as you could, your hands roamed to his chest, nails digging into his collarbone as he began to find an erratic pace. He was loving and passionate, even still, but there was something inherently quick about his rhythm.

Perspiration glittered along his brow from the warm evening, yet it did not stop him from pounding away at you. His cock filled you perfectly, providing a delectable stretch that made your toes curl. It wasn’t an intimidating thing, but it was pretty, just like the rest of him.

Through his clenched teeth, Gwayne sang your praises, savoring the way in which your cunt constricted around him, as if drawing him in. “Seven Hells, your cunt is perfection,” Such lewd, crass words sounded so eloquent coming from his lips, as debonair as a Prince. “I cannot get enough of you, sweet wife.” He groaned.

Despite his crudely-spoken compliment, you were lost within the throes of your own pleasure, body rocked into submission by each snap of his hips. His cock bottomed out within you, movements swift yet punctuated, as if every thrust possessed meaning.

You loved Gwayne unconditionally — perhaps too much, if such a thing were possible. Your chest heaved with sweet, passionate sighs and gentle moans, forehead occasionally brushing against his. His hands kept themselves firm along your waist, curling into the silk of your slip.

His cock battered away at your slick cunt, aided by your mounting arousal. Everything felt so feverishly warm, as if you had been set ablaze, nerves feeling like they were steeped in fire. “More,” You moaned, and it effectively caught Gwayne’s attention. “Gwayne, please.” He was weak to your soft pleas.

Your beloved husband lacked harshness when it came to intimacy, something you adored about him. Even when his thrusts became desperate and erratic, chasing after his release, he never resorted to using you. His lips sought the column of your throat, nose brushing along your jugular.

A string of kisses peppered themselves against your sweet flesh, with the occasional suckling of his lips to your neck. A myriad of throaty whines and whimpers continued to leave you in droves, cunt pathetically clenching around him.

Buckling forward, Gwayne planted one palm against the stone bannister, the other caging in around you as he continued to pound away into your needy cunt. He kissed you wherever he could, dwindling into desperation and the innate desire to taste your sweet flesh.

His lips parted slightly, a strained grunt escaping him as he thrust forward again, until there was nowhere left for him to go. Gwayne pulled back just enough, the head of his cock still inside of you before he moved forward again. The friction made you shiver, fingers grasping at the nape of his neck.

His name continued to slip from your mouth, over and over again, like a whispered prayer. Your nails left behind red crescents upon his skin, sharp brands of your lovemaking. Gwayne groaned against your throat, desiring to kiss you once more, lips laying claim to yours with a fervor.

With another snap of his hips, Gwayne shuddered, nearly collapsing into you as he reached his peak. Hot ropes of seed brazenly spilled inside of you, warming your insides as he attempted to catch his breath. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing with him, allowing your hands to slack.

Gwayne politely removed himself from you, mindful of your garments as he fixed your gown back into place. The slip itself was disheveled, but he ensured its tidiness before you got dressed again.

“How divine you are,” Gwayne hummed, planting gentle kisses along the side of your face before it ended at the curve of your jaw. “Beautiful beyond comprehension.” He murmured, using two digits to delicately place the strap of your slip back upon your shoulder.

“You flatter me, husband,” Your smile was warm and amiable, the brightness of springtime, bringing a rosy flush to his features. “I quite enjoyed your brazen streak.” Through a smitten confession, Gwayne kissed your brow, lips twitching into a debonair smirk.

“I am not ashamed of ravishing my wife, be it in our chambers or in the garden,” He replied, reaching for his velveteen doublet and your azure dress. It was easy for him to slip back into the stuffy material, and he was more than happy to assist you. “I cannot get enough of you.”

His words were tantalizing, as if intended to bring about another string of salacious thoughts. Gwayne stood behind you as you stepped back into your dress, helping to lace your bodice up again. He planted a kiss along your exposed shoulder, and then to the crook of your neck.

You reached for his hand, letting it drape across your shoulder as you pressed a delicate kiss against his bruised knuckles. “You shall have me, Gwayne — for as long as you desire me.” You sighed, feeling his nose brush along your cheek, the warmth of his body pressing in behind you.

With a kiss to your temple, one oozing with such fondness and ardor that you feared you might melt, Gwayne’s lips hovered near the shell of your ear. In the twinkling dusk, he held you close. “Forever, then.”

#house of the dragon #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower x y/n #hotd x reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #game of thrones x reader

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fandomlit · 4 months ago

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gif cred belongs to @larryluvz

requested by anon "SOMETHING WITH YOUNG!REMUS LUPIN CRUSHING ON FEM!READER PLEASEEE"

imagine catching remus lupin staring at you

"don't look now," your friend whispered in your ear. you jumped slightly, turning to her with a warning look. she paid no mind to your glare, "but remus lupin is staring at you like you're his last meal."

your face erupted into flames. "you're a wicked woman," you muttered, turning back to the notes you were jotting down.

"i'm not kidding!" she whispered harshly. "he seriously can't takes his eyes off of you!"

you looked up at her again with a huff. "he's probably just zoning out-" but when you turned your gaze toward the brunette it was clear he wasn't just staring into space--no, his gaze was laser focused on you. your eyes connected for the briefest of shocking moments before remus cleared his throat lightly and hunched back over his parchment, quill scratching away like he had never paused. your mouth hung open slightly, but you were snapped back to reality when your friend started snickering in your ear.

"don't look now," james whispered in remus's ear, but the boy was determinedly keeping his gaze and burning face down, "but i think y/n caught you staring."

#harry potter #marauders era #maruaders era fanfic #marauders x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfic #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #remus lupin imagine #harry potter fanfic #james potter #hp x reader #hp imagine #hp fanfic #harry potter world x reader

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quill-and-again · 15 days ago

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A Moment - Oleander Folderol

[Moments are interactions between Quill and other One Piece characters/OCs that may not ever make it into the more canonical long-form stories. They can be angsty, spicy, smutty, or feature "bad ends". It's a way for me to play with Quill without the weighty commitment of "canon".]

Summary: Quill runs afoul of Vice-Admiral Oleander - "The Hoarder" - speaking a language that doesn't exist in the One Piece catches the observant man's attention. The more he gets to know of Quill, the more attention they get from him.

Warning: While Quill is an OC, I write them in the "reader" perspective, because they're a reincarnator and their first life was this Earth/Reality. As a fan of One Piece, they are almost more "reader" than OC. This can be jarring for folks, hence the warning. (this may change the more I develop Quill)

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission.

CW: kidnapping, Oleander's obsession makes him a bit Yandere, kinky AF

Thanks to spit-balling about OCs with Blue, this is going to be a small series of increasingly debauched moments.

Part 1 (you are here) -:- Part 2

“Age?” The man questioning you right now was oddly intriguing. Considering you’d woken up with him looming over you.

The curly locks of hair framed his face handsomely, once you could actually see it. For a moment the large glasses had you worried there was an eight foot bug looming over you. Anyone would look handsome after that shock.

“Twenty something.” You promised to answer his questions truthfully when he explained to you that he was a Marine and you were in his custody. This wasn’t the world you wanted to deal with the government in, but you didn’t have much choice currently. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know. This body doesn’t remember.”

It was true. As a reincarnator you were used to waking up in a new body and on a new world. But all the worlds before this one weren’t known to you. You knew this world was the One Piece world. But you couldn’t remember being born in this world.

Something must’ve happened to cause you to forget, but grumbling to yourself about your frustrations, in a language no one spoke, had been a terrible idea. By his own admission this was precisely why this Vice Admiral Bug-Glasses had snatched you off the streets.

“This body?” Credit where it’s due, when he quirks a brow like that he looks even hotter.

“Clarification wasn’t part of the agreement.” You say with a smile.

Oleander snorts. This entire interaction has been the most interesting twenty minutes of his 35 years of life. He had you snatched off the streets because you were speaking in a fully foreign language, and it intrigued him.

But when you woke up in his lab you were calm. Calmer than anyone had been. You told him your name, and even spoke more in the language he’d heard before. Afterward you’d translated your own words - not that he had any way of verifying it, but that was the best part.

What kept his interest was how there wasn’t a trace of duplicity in your answers or your body language. Either you were exceptionally skilled at lying, or you were being honest. Given how you’d just declined to answer him, he was more inclined to honesty.

“Quill, age unknown, island of origin unknown, 152 centimeters-.”

“152 point four.” Oleander gives you a look and your return it. “I ain’t working with much here, doc, every point matters.”

“… 152 point four centimeters,” the annoyance in his voice isn’t from the correction, it’s that he acquiesced. “Parentage unknown. There’s no bounty in our systems for you, so if you are a criminal you haven’t been caught.”

“I can leave then.” It’s not a question.

“No. You’re here until I decide otherwise.” Oleander corrects, pushing his glasses up and straightening up.

He’s really tall when he’s not crouched over. Probably solid as a wall too. His movements are efficient, if not languid. He probably can’t be bothered to spend more energy than required on something that isn’t his magic.

Idly you wondered if anyone else in this world could see the aura of manna that swirls around him.

“Kidnapping, marine? Sounds like pirate behavior.” You’re smiling as you say it, body relaxed. Now’s not the time to try and escape anyway.

Oleander’s smile is anything but reassuring. “You were speaking an unknown language when I found you. Shortly after going unconscious your body changed from masculine in appearance, to feminine in appearance, and your perfectly normal teeth have a pronounced, dare I say, vampiric look to them now.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. The whole body thing was something you hadn’t sorted out and it made it really hard to stay under the radar. Maybe he was doing you a favor - for now you didn’t have to worry about being snagged by slavers or pirates. Tall, dark and bug-eyed might be a useful source of information himself.

He sets a jar on the desk. There’s a miniature set up inside of it that looks comfortable enough - you’re even fairly certain the little opaque section is a bathroom of sorts. You’re already putting two and two together, given the other jars with miniaturized creatures in them.

“Taking the whole ship in a bottle idea to a bit of an extreme, eh doc?”

“You keep calling me that.” He says it so flatly you aren’t sure how he’s taking it.

“Not all doctors heal people,” you answer evenly. “You’re gonna tell me you’re not a mad scientist?”

“I’m perfectly sane.” The toothy grin on his face assured you he doesn’t believe that for a moment. Or he does so much so it proves your point anyway.

“No one is perfectly sane, doc.”

Oleander finds himself almost discomforted by how desperately he wants to know more the more you say. You keep looking at the aura around him so he knows you can see it. Your eyes slipped over the shelves more than once, and you’re still so calm.

It’s refreshing, intriguing, and uncomfortable.

You smile even as you feel your body shrink. The sensation isn’t unpleasant, but the change in perspective is unsettling. Magic in this world didn’t wholly surprise you - the great wide world of One Piece was nothing if not wide and varied.

Once you’re small enough you’re in the jar, it’s pleasant. A good temperature, and the little bed is surprisingly comfy.

“Until I sort out everything about you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Oleander explains, setting your jar on his desk.

Oh you’re going to drive this man to drink, you think, sitting down on the bed. Or rile him up enough you get some entertainment out of this all your own. Maybe you can strike a deal with him.

He looks pent up.

#side blog #quill oc #one piece oc #x reader #reader insert #A Moment - Oleander #quill and again moments #oleander folderol #If you had told me 6 months ago I'd be writing oc x oc #even as drabbles #I would've thought you blithering mad #AND YET

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ellecdc · 4 months ago

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The Hazards of Hiccoughs

poly!darksun x fem!reader who falls for one of James' pranks by accident

prompts: "anything with dark sun" & "reader gets caught in the crossfire of one of their pranks", scenario by @unstablereader

CW: Barty threatening murder (the usual), descriptions of asthma and asthma attack, reader panics because she can't breathe, hurt/comfort but mostly fluff and humour

One word to describe James Potter would be, without a doubt, brave.

If you asked his friends to find words to describe him, he may get the odd “clever”, “mischievous”, “troublesome”, “annoying git” etcetera; but at the end of the day, no one could deny that James Potter was, in fact, brave.

He was a Gryffindor, afterall.

He spent his spare time flying on an enchanted piece of bark as high as the tallest towers in Hogwarts (and oftentimes then some), and finding many new and creative ways to give his mother a few more grey hairs by performing tricks and stunts at said heights.

He spent an evening every month with the likes of a werewolf, and didn’t even quiver at the prospect of being sent to Azkaban when he became an unregistered animagus.

He’s battled racist gits on the school grounds, found himself facing grounds for detention, suspension, and expulsion all in the name of mischief, and he has made both enemies and the greatest of friendships with the likes of Slytherin’s.

In fact, one of James’ bravest ventures was getting the likes of one Barty Crouch Junior into his bed.

So, yeah….James Potter was brave.

So brave.

Except, maybe not right now.

Except maybe, right now, he was very much decidedly not brave and actually very much afraid.

What was James so afraid of, one might wonder?

Oh, well, you remember that very brave venture James made once upon a brave moment where he won over the affections of one such Barty Crouch Junior?

Yeah, that.

James was afraid of that.

Or, more specifically, James was very much afraid of what Barty was going to do when he found out what James had done (inadvertently!!!) to you.

You see, one of those things James was so well known for? You know? His mischief. Well, he’d had a brilliant pranking idea.

He and Sirius knew that Regulus bought caramel sugar quills every Hogsmeade trip for the Slytherin common room, as it was a crowd favourite.

During one of James and Sirius’ (many) recent detentions, they had the (quite brilliant, if you asked either of them) idea of using the same charm used in hiccough lollies sold at Zonko's on the sugar quills, thus sending the Slytherin gits (affectionate, since one of them was James’ adopted little brother and the other was his boyfriend, and, you know, all of their closest friends) into a hiccoughing fit!

It was hilarious, and James wasn’t ashamed to admit that he and Sirius laughed so hard at the vision of them hiccoughing their way through the castle that they were given another detention for their behaviour during detention.

And it had gone oh so smoothly.

James was often in the Slytherin common room either with or without you on account of both of your relationship with Barty, and was able to place them in their usual spot on a dark stained wooden cabinet beside the fireplace without rousing much suspicion.

It had gone perfectly.

So perfectly, that is, until his poor sweet angel came running to him choking and coughing and wheezing with tear tracks down your pretty face because you had fallen for his (now very obviously) stupid and idiodic prank.

James had been present for a few of your asthma attacks before, but none of them seemed quite as bad as this one. He always had one of your inhalers in his room for emergencies, and you had convinced yourself that the one you had on your person was either faulty or expired, but no sooner would the medication begin to soothe your air-thirsty lungs would you begin hiccoughing again and the cycle would continue.

It didn’t help that you were clearly panicked, and James didn’t think that was completely unreasonable seeing as you couldn’t breathe, so James had worked hard to remain as calm as he possibly could for the both of you.

He’d nicked one of Moony’s calming draught’s for you and brought you and your inhalers up to the top of the astronomy tower for some quiet and fresh air; rubbing circles along your back, taking deep, methodical breaths with you, helping you take another puff when the hiccoughing began to take over, and washed, rinsed, and repeated until the hiccoughing had finally subsided.

You were undoubtedly exhausted after the emotional ordeal, and James opted to bring you down to his dorm so you could sleep it off (and so that he could keep an eye on you).

He watched your form almost obsessively where you were curled up in his bed in one of his quidditch jumpers from his desk chair; watching your chest rise and fall evenly, without restriction as he fought to bring his own panic down.

“Merlin that could have been bad.” Sirius let out with a breath from his own bed, joining James in watching you breathe as if he too needed convincing that you still were.

“Don’t.” James bit out sharply. “Don’t even go there.”

“How’d she even get to them before anyone else did?” He continued, agreeing with James that wondering what might have happened if you hadn’t found James was too scary.

“Because we had the brilliant idea of going during Slytherin's quidditch practice.” James sneered, still never removing his gaze from your chest.

“What are you going to tell Junior?” He asked then, causing James’ stomach to lurch not at all pleasantly.

One of the things James loved so much about Barty was how much he loved. Barty loved everything with all the intensity of a fiendfyre explosion; he dedicated himself mind, body, and soul 110% to those he cherished.

And one thing Barty cherished perhaps most in the whole wide world was you.

“Do I have to tell him?” James groaned then, finally moving his gaze from you to the face of his thoroughly bemused best friend.

“Will she not tell him?”

James responded with a noncommittal sound as Peter walked in the door.

“Tell who what?” He asked as he let his book bag fall to the ground with a thud, earning him a hasty “shhhh” from James and “Tell Barty we almost killed his Treasure” from Sirius.

“Oh, well I just let him into the common room.” Peter offered simply as he laid back casually on his four poster bed.

“You what!?” James beseeched, earning him a hasty “sshhh” from Sirius.

“He said he was coming to find you. Stopped to ask Remus about a book they were talking about last week first.” Peter responded with a shrug.

“No! No. Nonononono.” James began chanting as he took off in a sprint towards the common room.

James nearly ricocheted off of Barty from how fast he’d been going down the stairs that both of them winced as they took the other in.

“Salazar, Jamie. I’m happy to see you too but you didn’t have to tackle me like some muggle American footballer.” He groaned as he massaged his ribs.

“Sorry! Sorry. Hi! Hi, bubs. How are you? How was practice!?” James rapid-fired with faux cheer.

So along with being brave, mischievous, and perhaps more than a little bit afraid of his boyfriend, James was also a terrible liar.

“What’s going on?” Barty asked suspiciously after scanning James’ face for only 0.7 seconds.

“Nothing! What? What do you mean!? Nothing, of course!”

“What did you do?” He deadpanned; his question poised more like a demand of honesty than it was an inquiry.

James forced out his most disbelieving scoff. “Wha- what do you mean? Nothing, of course! Why, why would I have done anything?”

“You’re literally always up to no good which is usually why I like you so much, but this-” Barty paused to wave a hand over James rather generally, “is freaking me out. Spill.”

“Okay, listen, she’s alright, but-”

“Where is she?” Barty demanded - any levity quickly seeping from his face and tone as he stood up straighter.

“I just said she was okay, Barty-”

“Which means she wasn’t okay at some point.”

“There….may have been an incident.” James offered slowly.

“For fucks sa- get out of my way.” Barty grumbled as he shoved his way past James and took the stairs two at a time to get to James’ dorm room.

“How’d he know she was up there?” James wondered aloud, surprised when Remus answered him.

“I told him the two of you were upstairs.” He said as he fell into step with James.

“You told him!?”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard James was actually certain that this would be the time they finally got stuck like that. “Of course I didn’t, you prat. Why would I waste the chance to watch the theatrics.”

James groaned as they rounded the corner to their shared dorm, emotionally (and physically) bracing himself for said theatrics, only to find Barty kneeling on the floor beside James’ bed as he brushed your hair away from your face.

“That must’ve been really scary.” Barty murmured quietly; a divot between his eyebrows as he scanned your face as if looking to see any lingering signs of distress.

“M’okay; Jamie took care of me.” You responded quietly; words stretched out by the exhaustion still clearly weighing you down.

Barty hummed noncommittally and continued scanning your face. “Do you still want me to kill him for you though? You know I will, yeah?” He offered, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your (what James was sure was still overheated) face.

You chuckled and turned your face to him so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“No, I like him too much.” You offered softly as you nuzzled back into James’ pillow. “So do you.”

“Do not.” Barty argued petulantly, causing you to swing your arm out at him.

He caught it quickly and brought your knuckles to his lips. “Don’t exert yourself.”

“Don’t tell lies.” You countered.

Barty groaned dramatically and threw his head back. “Fine; I’m crazy about him. But I’d still kill him, you know?”

“You’re all bark.”

“He doesn’t need to know that.” Barty hissed back in faux chiding as he locked his now narrowed eyes onto James, and even though James had been privy to the conversation that just took place, he couldn’t help the nervous gulp he took.

“Seems like we might’ve gone scot-free for this one.” Sirius stage whispered at James, causing Barty’s somewhat dark glare at James to turn into something downright murderous when it moved to Sirius.

“You might want to run.” Remus stage whispered at Sirius who then took his own nervous gulp.

“It was nice knowing you, Moons.” Sirius offered solemnly with a head nod. “Pete, take care of our boy, yeah?”

Peter, for his part, offered Sirius nothing more than a thumbs up from his bed as he and James began backing slowly out of the dorm room.

“Barty - my love - I just want you to remember how much you love and care for me, yeah? And also that sweet angel over there, who would definitely not like to have me dead or for you to spend time in prison for murdering my best friend- NOW, PADS!”

And like two characters on a muggle cartoon show, the two Gryffindors went scrambling from the doorway.

And if James had perhaps stuck around even a single moment longer, he would have heard Barty ask you if he could “at least scare them a little?” to which you simply replied “be my guest.”

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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

Text

Sensory Overload (Housewardens)

Intro: It's him, it's him, it's all so him. Like the perfect happy ending to your fairytale, there's always a confession and a kiss.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, loser Idia but that's normal right, kinda suggestive but nothing nuts

A/N: Never making the mistake of asking what people want for a follower milestone celebration again :( So this is my happy 200 followers to you, and to myself.

Too many weeks of yearning, and pining, and unbirthday invitations; too many hours of sleep lost when you haunt him even in his dreams. Riddle finally cracks when he sees you one too many times with the ADeuce combo (he wants you to smile with him, laugh with him like that too). He pulls you to an empty classroom, and he’s bright red as he stammers out his feelings for you.

“Y/N, I really like you.”

What can you do but respond in kind when he’s so cute and shy like this?

“Riddle,” you say with a smile, “I like you too.”

He takes one of your hands into his own, pressing a small kiss on the back of your knuckles. His pretty gray eyes, like storm clouds above the sea, a raging tempest making its way to your heart and tearing down all the walls you’d built for yourself. Most of all, you see love swirling within them. Enough to ignore the school bell that had just rung. Enough to get ‘indecently’ close to you. Enough to drown you. He smells like roses and lemon tea, sweet and citrusy and floral, and his lips, you barely feel the moment they’re on yours.

He’s looking away in embarrassment.

You tug him back to you. “I think we need a redo.”

The moment Leona realizes he likes you (no way he’s saying love this early, try again), he’s knocking on the door of your dorm. You wake up to find a handsome lion beastman, emerald green eyes staring right at you and it’s, admittedly, a very rude wake up call. Sure he’s hot, but getting kabedon’d to the front door at 5 in the morning was definitely not in your plans for a casual Saturday.

You can’t complain.

Mostly because he’s already kissing you before you’re even awake enough to register that Leona Kingscholar is kissing you while keeping you pinned against the door, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck to keep you from escaping. He smells like cedarwood and the slightest hint of smoke, his lips are slightly chapped but so soft, and his tongue sweeps over your lip. You deny his silent ask for entry and pull away.

“Good…morning…?” You say in a daze.

“Herbivore,” Leona drawls slowly, leaning back in again, “I like you. Be mine.”

You’re kidnapped right after your Magic History exam, and really, you’re just thankful that Floyd and Jade decided to wait until after your exam before taking you against your will. You feel like a tourist attraction, slung over Floyd’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You’re dropped off in front of the Mostro Lounge VIP room. Azul is waiting for you with a contract, and you read it with a laugh. “Party A is to be in a formal relationship with Party B, of romantic nature which indicates—Azul, this is stupid.”

You watch the man, almost uncharacteristically, curl in on himself at your words.

Even though you did just kind of mock it, you still pick up the fishbone quill and sign your name on the dotted line. You toss the contract to the side and stand up, bending over his fancy wood table to pull him by the collar and look him in his pretty eyes you can never understand the color of. Maybe you just need some more time to stare at them.

“Azul,” you whisper softly, “I like you too.”

He smells like expensive cologne, sea salt and vanilla and something else. His lips are so soft and sweet when you tug him in to meet yours, he’s awkward and inexperienced and everything about this mafioso wannabe is adorable to you right now.

Better hope the door is locked.

Every Scarabia party is usually punctuated with you passing out in your bed. This one is different. Just as the music is dying down and the number of people are dwindling, a nervous Kalim asks you to go on a carpet ride with him. So. You’re alone, up in the skies, with the guy you like. Yay. You hold onto the tassels for dear life.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

You look at Kalim. His eyes look like rubies crystallized from blood, but his gaze is innocent, sweet, and it reminds you more of strawberry flavored lollipops than it does a crime scene. He moves closer to you, and you can’t back off or you’ll fall off the carpet.

So you fall for Kalim instead.

He smells woody, and like a mix of different spices that probably shouldn’t smell as good in combination as they do on him. “I like you,” he says softly, cupping your cheek. You don’t stop him when he leans in for a slow kiss, tender and gentle as if any rough and sudden movement could cause you to break. His lips are chapped, but he tastes faintly of the fruit juice you’d seen him drink earlier.

“I like you too.”

Valentines’. Lovely. The best holiday ever. The perfect day to spill all your romantic feelings to someone who could so very easily crush it under his five inch stilettos.

You hold onto your flowers and try to smell your breath. You’re not optimistic enough to think your confession will end in a kiss, but it’s okay to dream, right? You knock on the door. It opens to reveal the person you’ve been hopelessly in love with for a while, and you meet lilac irises reminiscent of lavender fields in the Shaftlands. Vil glances down at your bouquet with a knowing smile.

You offer it to him. He takes it.

“Happy Valentines’ day.”

“Thank you, spudling.”

Awkward silence. This is the part where you confess. “Vil, I like you. A lot.”

This is the part you get rejected. Luckily for you, you don’t. Soft, sweet lips meet yours in a haphazard kiss as you’re pulled into his room, with the slightest taste of grapes, probably from his lip gloss. He smells like the bouquet of flowers you’d brought him, and like the patch of herbs you pass by everyday by the greenhouse.

“Darling, I’ve waited for far too long to hear you say that.”

You wake up in Idia’s bed after a day-long gaming session, meeting a pair of eyes that look like liquid gold. He's staring at your face like a cat. “Hi, Idia,” you murmur sleepily, “what time is it?”

“Uh,” he looks at his phone, “like, 6 p.m.?”

“Have you been staring at me while I slept?”

He blinks. “No?”

You roll around on the bed and take him down with you, your hands on either side of him as you hovered above him. You lean down closer and closer and closer, until he’s squealing and whimpering. He smells musty, to be honest, and it’s probably the sweatshirt he’s wearing that he hasn’t changed out of in two days, with the slightest whiff of cheese puffs. “What are you doing?!”

“Idia,” you say with a yawn, before grinning mischievously, “I like you.”

“Are you for real…?”

You close the distance, and he doesn’t fight you off, so you call that a success. His lips are dry as hell, so you do him a favor and lick them for him.

Tastes like cheese puffs too.

Malleus saw you as a friend. That’s it. He saw you as someone to trust and spend time with, a mortal who held no fear towards him or his powers that could easily send the entire island underwater. You don’t think there’s anything special enough about you that could make the Malleus Draconia fall in love with you the way you’ve fallen hopelessly, irredeemably, in love with him. So no, you don’t have the highest hopes when you look into his stunning green eyes, so vibrant and lovely that no forest could ever compare. Not when you cup his cheeks with your hands.

Not when you kiss him.

He tastes like the milk candy you’d just given him minutes before, and smells vaguely of smoke and vetiver. You take his passivity as a sign to go further (in any case, you don’t think this’ll ever happen again). Your kiss is more desperate, chasing after his lips and your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.

You pull away to see the Prince of Briar Valley blushing.

“What…is the meaning of this…?”

“I’m sorry Malleus, I just—” you messed up, now you can’t even be friends anymore, “—I like you, Malleus. I’m sorry, I understand if you never want to see me again.”

He doesn’t reply. He only smiles and pulls you back in for another.

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puffleyia · 7 months ago

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After Hours || Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott x fem!reader || 2.3k words

Warnings: Unprotected & clothed sex, p-in-v, Theo speaking some Italian (hope the translations are accurate..) yeah, i'm a sucker for that.

Summary: Exams are two weeks time from now. You've made a deliberate effort to steer clear of your boyfriend, Theo. One unfortunate night, he ends up dragging you into an empty classroom and teaches you a lesson worth remembering.

Author's notes: Hellooo, requests are open ! It's a blast writing ab Theo !! I've only gotten back into writing recently after not writing fics for a good while. sorry if i'm slow at churning out fics. I'm busy!

It was roughly two weeks before examinations, and professors have even stopped giving out homework as to focus students’ time on reviewing for their respective subjects. You’ve been studying your ass off in the library day and night, sometimes offering your friends to join in as well. Though, they quickly get bored as they soon offer to do much more interesting things than studying such as having a go at wizard chess, or exploding snap.

It took a lot of self control not to join them, and it took even more not to just put down your book and see Theo. You had been purposely avoiding him because he would always end up distracting you, one way or another. You always catch him stealing a glance at you, and you would almost squirm at the way he looked at you; severely in discomfort as the tension between you two only continued to rise due to the lack of interaction.

It felt suffocating to say the least, so you even began trying not to even breathe in his direction. Needless to say, the bastard still had his ways. He would sometimes sneak up behind you in the library, as you pore over the shelves, inviting himself in as he grabbed your waist and buried his face in your neck. Another is when he would attempt to ensnare you right after your classes.

In the end, you always found yourself ending up hiding away in your common room. You would get past him just by the skin of your teeth each time, as he used his cunning words and a dangerous tone that was like poisoned honey.

You thought, or, more like hoped it would be a quiet night tonight, staying up past curfew hours at the library and praying none of the professors nor prefects would catch you. Though perhaps you were too engrossed in Advanced Potion Making to notice the echo of footsteps that slowly grew louder as it drew nearer to you. Your ears simply blanked it out as mere white noise.

It had not even registered yet in your head until you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, as someone sat beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, as you could see him faintly through your peripherals. “You’ve been so distant lately, amore,” he says, his tone unhappy and laced with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite make out underneath it.

“Sorry, Theo, I-I’m only trying to focus on the exams at the moment. I mean, not in a bad way but, if I spend time with you, I’ll only end up distracted,” you say, trying to clarify yourself to him. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to tell him sooner. He sighs, “I guess I’ll just have to–” he gets cut off as you both stiffen at the sound of someone approaching.

He hastily places a firm hand over your mouth, silencing your protests, and shoves your book, notes, and quill into your arms. Before you could object, he then relocates you two into an empty classroom, hastily and skillfully sneaking around the halls to get there. It looked unkempt, and it seemed as if it were not used regularly either. He finally released you from his grasp as you gasped for air. “Theo! What the he–” you say, as he quickly covers your mouth again. “Shh, you’re gonna get us caught, principessa.” He says in a low voice, in a near-whisper before he lets go again. “Ahem,” you clear up your throat before you speak, “I-I believe I should get going, Theo.” He furrows his brows at that, frowning slightly. You head towards the classroom’s door, before he grabs you by the waist from behind and pulls you in.

“Who said you were leaving, hm? Are you trying to avoid me again?” He says, as he moved the both of you to sit on one of the chairs. You remain in his arms, unable to get out despite your attempts to wiggle out and you end up on his lap. “Theo.” You say firmly, trying to assert yourself to let him know you really are serious about studying. “Mm, fine, since you’re so stubborn. Tell you what, how about I study with you?” He says suggestively, his voice making you feel things you were not supposed to. Not right now at least.

“Really?” You say skeptically, raising an eyebrow. You place your stuff down, with a dull thud as it is placed on the table. Sounding slightly annoyed, he says, “What's with the attitude, hm? Are you doubting me?” “F-fine, then,” you hesitantly agree, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants to be. Alone with him.

“Brava ragazza,” he says, as he rests his head on your shoulder whilst flipping open your book. You can not help but faintly squeeze your thighs together, you didn’t know most of the time what he was saying when he spoke to you in Italian, but you found it incredibly hot when he did. Your actions do not go unnoticed by him, though he was not going to do anything yet. You pick up your quill, your eyebrows knitting together as you attempt to focus on taking your notes.

“Tell you what, I’ll ask you a few questions to help you. If you get it right, I won’t do anything. If you don't…” He says, his voice trailing off as he does not continue what he was going to say, though the timbre in his voice gave enough implication. You gulp and nod, your throat bobbing as you swallow. You knew you did not really have much of a say, Theo’s done a good job of cornering you. Not to mention the fact he knew you were slightly struggling with potions, too.

“Right then, amore, can you tell me how Golpalott’s Third Law influences the effectiveness and stability of potions?” He asked amusedly, his foot tapping the floor rhythmically. “Uhm,” you say, muttering in an attempt to answer, “Uh, well, it’s... um, when you have a potion with, uh, lots of different poisons, right? So, um, the antidote... it's not just, um, the sum of... wait, no, it's more than that! Yeah, um…” You begin feeling your mouth go dry as the tension in the room fills the air. You feel your heart thump loudly against your ribcage.

“It’s when you have multiple poisons mixed together in a potion, the antidote needs to be more potent or comprehensive to counteract their combined effects.” He says, cockily smirking as he corrects you. Your breath hitches as he takes off your robes and his, tossing it aside as he hikes up your skirt and gropes you. “Theo!” You gasp at his actions. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, as he breathed in your scent before he began kissing it.

“Cazzo,” he mumbles before he spat out another question, “What are the common ingredients and methods used to counteract the effects of different poisons?” You feel the tent in his pants growing, his cock pressing against your clothed cunt. “I–” You manage to get out before biting your lip, stifling a moan. You had reviewed this, but lust simply clouded your mind for you to formulate a cohesive answer.

“Um, er.. D-dittany, for uhm, venom,” you say, as Theo continued teasing you, grinding his hips upwards so that you could feel his dick. You moan at the friction on your pussy, feeling your panties get wet. “I..” You slur, unable to say anything further. “Cockdrunk already, cara mia?” He lets out a guttural laugh, bending you over the table and grabbing your hips roughly as he continues grinding his cock on your pussy.

“Don’t forget, Bezoar, for example–” he grunts, “–is a stone found in the stomach of certain magical creatures like goats. It's known for its ability to neutralise many poisons when ingested. Then there's the Antidote to Common Poisons…” He corrects you, adding more strings of information you probably needed. Though, it was not as if you were paying attention, as you were moving your hips hungrily back onto his dick, only being separated by thin fabric.

“Merda, might as well just fuck you if you keep getting my questions wrong, principessa.” He says, his voice dangerously low as you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling and the distinct sound of his fly unzipping. You look over your shoulder, watching him intently as he pulls down his dark grey boxers and frees his cock. “Theo, please,” you whine, as he smacks your ass and pushes your panties aside. “I thought you were too busy studying? Maybe I should just leave you to that,” he teases you, tapping his dick on your cunt and rubbing it in between your folds.

“No, please,” you plead, and desperately you pressed yourself onto his cock. “Beg, cara mia,” he husked condescendingly, enjoying humiliating you as he continued teasing your wet pussy. “Please, mmhn–” you moan, “I’m sorry, Theo. I-I need it, please, need your cock,” you whimper, flushed from embarrassment as he finally slipped the tip inside you. He pressed inside, at a gruellingly slow pace.

“Cazzo, una puttana così sporca, aren’t you huh?” You could not place your finger on a single word he said in Italian, but your pussy definitely could. He groaned loudly as he grew impatient, shoving the rest of his dick into you. His groin pressed flush against your ass. You moaned loudly at that, and with a swift motion, he reached out and clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh, cara mia,” he whispers sultrily in your ear as he quickly silences you, unwilling for the both of you to get caught.

You let out a few muffled sounds against his hand as he began thrusting into you, slowly drawing out his cock as he slammed it back into you with such force that the table beneath you shook. “Such a slut aren’t you? Merda,” He rasped as he uncovers your mouth, “yes!” you say, as he’s eliciting vulgar moans from you each time he fucked his dick back in.

He slithered his hand down onto your pussy, rubbing your clit. He leans in, grunting, as he kisses your nape. He sucks on your neck, trailing down to your back, leaving red marks as he sealed each one afterwards with a kiss. “Ti senti così maledettamente bene, amore,” he groaned, only setting his pace rougher as he hit a particularly deep spot inside you, hitting your cervix.

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you whine, as you tried to remain as quiet as you could. Your hands firmly grip onto the edges of the table, your nails digging into it, as he fucks you into oblivion. Tears brim at your eyes, as close them shut. Some teardrops cling onto your pretty lashes, and some flow down your cheek, falling down, staining the pages of your book. He loved watching you cry in pleasure, observing your expressions as he drove himself into you.

He loomed over you, using a hand to cup your jaw to force your head to look up at his face. “Open your mouth, cara mia.” He said, an authoritative tone that rolled off his tongue like butter. You oblige, parting your lips, your tongue lolling out as you do. He spits in your mouth, the hand holding your chin clamping your jaw shut afterwards . “Swallow.”

You do as he says, swallowing his spit as he lets go of your jaw and your head hangs down soon after. With that, he fucks you rougher, his pace frantic. You become nothing short of a moaning mess, he returns his hand to your clit and strokes it rhythmically in time with his thrusts. You let out small whimpers and whines as you feel hazy and drunk on his cock.

Theo, in an intoxicated trance, mutters a string of curses and praises in Italian. You cry out his name in ecstasy with every jab at your sweet spot as he ploughs into you. You feel a familiar warmth pooling at your stomach, only feeling more pleasurable by the second. “Theo, m’gonna cum, T-Theo,” you babble almost incoherently. He leans in briefly, and in a gravelly tone, “Cum on my cock, cara mia.” He says, letting his breath trickle down your neck.

Spasming around him, you dissolve into pleasure as you see stars. You selfishly clench around his dick, as if you wanted to milk him dry. Cumming all over his cock, you quite literally bury your face into your book, in an attempt to muffle the loud moan you let out as you do.

His thrusts grow languid and sloppy, hips stuttering unrhythmically as his climax nears. “Want me to cum inside you, principessa?” He husked, now digging his fingers into your hips as he chased his high. “Yes, yes, mhn–” you chant, unable to think straight. “Theo, please,” you pleaded.

With one final thrust, he groans loudly and buries himself fully inside you and stuffs your pussy with his cum. You felt his cock pulsing inside you, both of you panting as he rode out his orgasm. “Fuck, atta girl,” he says breathily, praising you as he pulls out of your cunt. He watches as you softly moan as you feel white globs of cum trickle out of your folds, dripping down your thighs.

He hastily tucks his cock back into his pants, pulling your skirt back in place as he walks (more like carries) you back to your common room that night before he headed back to his. Well, it was safe to say you definitely got nothing done that night, though he makes it up to you the following afternoon by actually helping you study with potions.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #thedore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader smut #theo nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #harry potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #hp smut #theodore nott x reader

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rosesareredrosa · 3 months ago

Text

Quick Realizations

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has always known everything about everyone—except his own feelings. When a playful conversation turns into an unexpected confession, Mattheo realises he might like you more than just as a friend.

w/c: 1287

a/n: send in requests pls I have no clue what to write about

To no one's surprise, Mattheo knows almost everything.

For example, he knows that he's your best friend.

He knows that you prefer studying by the Black Lake rather than in the library, that you secretly adore Herbology even though you complain about the dirt, and that you like sneaking out after curfew just to wander the castle halls at night. He also knows that Pansy has been in a better mood since Draco complimented her new potion-brewed perfume, and that Theo's been practicing his wandwork more than usual because he's been trying to impress a certain Ravenclaw in Charms class.

Simply put, Mattheo knows everything about everyone.

"And then what did she do?" He leans back against the stone bench, casually tossing a stray pebble into the lake, watching as the water ripples outward.

"We just talked afterward," you shrug, watching as a pair of first years try to coax the Giant Squid to the surface. "It was nice catching up with her; it's been a while."

"I bet. She's a nightmare," Mattheo chuckles, popping a chocolate frog into his mouth as he speaks. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh!" Your eyes brighten as you recall something, turning to face him.

You can't help but burst into laughter when you see his face, but you quickly compose yourself, keeping your smile in check. "She also said the funniest thing—she said that she thought you had feelings for me!"

His eyes widen in surprise, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. "That's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" You snicker, adjusting your scarf as a cold breeze sweeps across the grounds. He joins you in laughter, the idea of liking you as more than a friend clearly absurd to him.

"Hahaha!"

But as your laughter dies down, his smile falters.

"Theo, what do I do?!"

His roommate sits at a desk in the Slytherin common room, poring over a detailed Quidditch strategy diagram. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he plans out moves for the upcoming match against Gryffindor.

"Just tell her."

"I’ll hex you into next week."

"If it’s between you being a miserable pain in my arse and getting hexed, I’ll take the hex, mate," Theo mutters, not bothering to look up from his plans.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so sure you’re going to get hexed?"

"Because I’m associated with you," Theo replies dryly, finally glancing up from his Quidditch strategy with a smirk. "Help me out first, and then curse me later. C'mon, don't be stingy."

"I literally already gave you advice, just tell her how you feel."

"One small problem with that."

"What now?"

"I—" Mattheo opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He eventually settles on giving Theo an innocent smile. "Well, I actually don't know if I like her like that? It was an in-the-moment realization kind of thing, but now I'm just confused—"

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing his quill aside and turning fully to face Mattheo. "Are you serious?" He glares at Mattheo, disbelief etched across his face. "She can’t even brew a simple potion without asking for your help, and you’re practically useless in class if you can’t sit next to her! You two have the most ridiculous relationship I’ve ever seen!"

Mattheo crosses his arms, frowning. Theo sighs again, rubbing his temples. "...Respectfully, of course."

"Talk rubbish about her again and I'll jinx you into a toad. I'm serious."

"That’s literally my point."

"That doesn’t mean you get to be mean! Take it back!"

Theo bites back a retort, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "For someone who’s so observant," he says slowly, "you know nothing."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Mattheo’s eyes narrow, suddenly on the defensive.

"Well," Theo shrugs nonchalantly, "I’ve noticed that Comrac McLaggen has been showing a lot of interest in her lately. He might even confess soon, who knows? Maybe even today."

Mattheo stares at Theo, completely stunned by the revelation. His mind races as he processes his friend’s words; Theo can practically see the exact moment the realization dawns on him. Like a flash, Mattheo jumps to his feet.

"Theo, I’ve got to go! Good luck with the Quidditch match!"

"Gryffindor's not going to know what hit them."

But before he can finish, Mattheo is already out the door.

The key to your dorm unlocks itself, and right on time, Mattheo bursts through the door, slightly out of breath, his hair messier than usual from the wind.

"What’s this—?" You barely get the words out before Mattheo grabs your shoulders, his eyes wide as he searches yours for a moment before blurting out, "I like you."

You blink, taken aback by his sudden confession, but he doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues.

"I was going back and forth with Theo, and honestly, he messed with my head a bit, but I’ve come to a decision, and I know I like you. So don’t even think about dating Comrac, he’s a decent bloke and all, but he’s not right for you. And besides, if you dated him, you'd have to deal with his mates, and that sounds like a nightmare."

You knew who Comrac was, but you stay silent to let him continue speaking. Mattheo was always the more talkative one between the two of you (he’s also the one with the warmer smile, which is funny because his hands feel like ice against your sweater).

His hands move from your shoulders to your arms, and he swallows nervously. "I’m usually not this anxious around you, y'know," he admits, words tumbling out in a rush, "normally I feel at ease talking to you, but right now I feel like I’m going to pass out."

"Did you run here from the common room?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Mattheo!" You soften instantly, placing your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he sighs in relief. You frown at his recklessness, "You know how much running through the castle exhausts you. Why didn’t you just use the Floo network?"

"I just really wanted to see you." He pouts, opening his eyes to look at you with a vulnerability that makes your heart melt. "Like I said, Theo really messed with my head."

"I’m going to jinx him."

"Please do."

"And Mattheo?"

"Hm?"

It’s really sweet, actually—how he’s forgotten about his whole reason for coming here. But you can’t blame him too much; he’s just dashed through half the castle after battling his own nerves, and every hero deserves a reward for their courage. Especially Mattheo, who more than deserves a happy ending, and you couldn’t be more thrilled to give one to him.

"I like you too, by the way. Theo may be a little meddlesome, but he’s got great intuition; I was actually about to head to your dorm to tell you."

He gasps. "But running exhausts you!"

You smile sheepishly. "I guess I just really wanted to see you."

His jaw drops for the tenth time that day, and he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his head into your neck, murmuring against your shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love—"

"I love you too." You smile because you do love him. He’s been your best friend since first year, your partner in crime through every adventure, the boy you admired before you even understood what admiration was. "Since you’re here, want to watch a movie? I’ve got that Muggle DVD player you’re always curious about."

"Absolutely!"

As he hums to himself, cutting up some Honeydukes sweets for your impromptu movie session.

#slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott #fluff #drabble #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo fluff

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starkeysmoon · 6 days ago

Text

ink-stained distractions

pairing: mattheo riddle x gender neutral!reader

summary: a study date with mattheo riddle proves more distracting than productive.

warnings: just pure fluff, playful banter, mutual pining, mild teasing.

words: 1,042

you never expected to find mattheo riddle, the star player of the slytherin quidditch team, skipping practice for a study date.

yet, here he was, sprawled across the table with a devil-may-care grin, pretending to study while doing everything in his power to make sure you couldn’t focus for a second.

“you’ve written that same sentence three times,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice breaking your focus.

he leaned back in his chair, spinning his quill with practiced ease. the soft lamplight caught the edges of his sharp features, his dark curls grazing his forehead, making him look entirely too distracting for someone you’d roped into a study date.

“because someone keeps talking,” you retorted, glaring at him.

“or maybe,” he countered, leaning forward, “you’re just looking for an excuse to stare at me.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, heating up under his gaze.

mattheo riddle was impossible—infuriating, smug, and entirely too handsome for his own good.

“you’re lucky you’re good at this,” you muttered, shoving your notes toward him.

“good at what?” he asked, his smirk widening.

“explaining,” you snapped, though your voice softened. “i don’t understand this part of conjuration. help me, or i’ll find someone else to study with.”

his grin faltered for a split second—just enough to make you wonder if the idea of you studying with someone else actually bothered him. then, as if to prove you wrong, he tilted his head, his expression smug as ever.

“you wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice low and playful.

“try me.”

with a dramatic sigh, he grabbed your textbook, flipping to the section you’d pointed out. “you’re lucky i’m feeling generous today.”

“you mean, lucky you skipped quidditch for this,” you said, raising a brow.

“i am sick, remember?” he said, miming a weak cough. “tragically bedridden.”

you snorted. “right. because spending the afternoon in the library with me is such a hardship.”

he didn’t respond immediately, his focus shifting to the textbook in front of him. as he began explaining the theory behind conjuration, his tone shifted—calmer, steadier, his words precise and clear.

for someone who constantly got into trouble, mattheo riddle had an uncanny ability to simplify even the most complex topics.

and it was infuriating.

how was he so smart? how was his handwriting so neat, his diagrams so perfect, when half the time he wasn’t even in class?

you stared at him, trying to reconcile the boy who pulled pranks and skipped detention was the one in front of you now, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled notes for you.

“you’re staring again,” he said, not looking up from the parchment.

“am not,” you lied, snapping your attention back to your own notes.

he looked up then, a playful gleam in his dark eyes. “it’s okay,” he said softly. “i stare at you, too.”

the air between you shifted, your heart stumbling over itself as his words hung in the space. for once, mattheo didn’t grin or smirk; he just looked at you, his gaze steady, almost vulnerable.

“don’t say stuff like that,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

“why not?” he asked, leaning closer.

“because—” you started, but your words faltered when he reached across the table, brushing a stray ink smudge from your cheek with his thumb.

his touch lingered for just a moment before he pulled back, his smirk returning, softer this time. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“i hate you,” you muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

“no, you don’t,” he said, his confidence infuriatingly unshaken.

the next hour passed in a blur of explanations and stolen glances, the tension between you growing with every accidental brush of hands, every lingering look.

and then, just as you were starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, you could focus, mattheo leaned back in his chair and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach.

“really?” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“you’re doing it on purpose,” you accused.

“doing what?” he said, leaning forward again, his curls falling into his eyes.

“that!” you said, gesturing vaguely at him. “existing like... like that.”

he blinked, and then he laughed—a real, genuine laugh that made your chest ache in the best way.

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, his voice warm and soft.

“look who’s talking,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the library was quiet except for the faint rustle of pages and the distant hum of students talking. and in that stillness, mattheo’s gaze found yours again, softer this time, his smirk fading into something more sincere.

“you know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t mind skipping quidditch for this.”

“yeah?” you asked, your own voice quiet.

“yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “it’s worth it... if it’s with you.”

and just like that, you knew you were done for.

mattheo riddle masterlist

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle x y/n #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #theodore nott #harry potter smut #slytherin boys smut #harry potter fluff #draco malfoy smut #slytherin boys x reader

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 11 months ago

Text

(18+) horny brainrot & hcs about the men I write for..

includes: bucky barnes, logan howlett, matt murdock, miguel o’hara, moon boys, peter quill, pietro maximoff, spencer reid, tangerine

fem!reader, mdni

cw. mentions of edging, blow jobs, dry humping, cock warming, oral (f receiving) fingering/ clit play, pinv sex

bucky barnes: likes to eat you out after you've had a bad day. he likes to listen to you try to formulate words describing the details of your day while his tongue flicks over your clit - the feel making your mind blank and hazy. he loves listening to you restart your sentences over and over and over because you keep cutting yourself off with noises - with moans

logan howlett: likes to play with your clit while he’s fucking you. palm resting on your public bone, thumb extended down to your clit — the motion slow and unrushed. each little circle and swirl matches the pace of his strokes, his cock fucking into you. the sensation of his dual touch earning him all your beautiful sounds and noises. every little one acting as fuel, as his momentum to keep going for you.

matt murdock: he knows the moment just as you're about to let go. he listens to your body, to your heart - listens to it pick up in rhythm, to it pump wildly just before that moment. he listens to your breathing stagger and heighten, listens to the change in your body, to your muscles seize and tense. though that's all he lets you feel. he snatches himself away just as you're about to cum - pulling away his cock or tongue or fingers, not allowing you that sweet moment of release. he plays with you, endlessly working you up until you're just shy of your orgasm, then yanks himself away - listening to you whine and protest, panting wildly. he tells you he'll be nice on you and let you cum, but it'll be the same story again. working you up impossibly more, leaving you on the cusp of your high

miguel o'hara: he won't always fuck you with the full length of his dick. sometimes, he's just too much for you to take, so you have to satiate your need with just the tip of his cock. he'd keep his fat head wedged snuggly inside you, not moving or giving you any friction you desperately need. only placing his thumb over your clit, circling it slowly as he essentially uses his tip as a plug. he'd look down at you almost pitifully, cooing at you when you'd pout and whine, trying to take more of him. but he won't allow it - placing a large hand on your hip, stilling you as he continues to toy with your clit

moon boys: they make you wear a blindfold while they take turns fucking you. you have to figure out who is fronting solely by their touch - no talking, no communicating, no nothing. you have to differentiate them by their strokes and rhythm, by the way they fuck you, by how they touch and caress you. they don't like being mistaken for one another, so you best not guess wrong - they won't be so lenient with you

peter quill: a lazy, heated makeout in bed under the covers. both wearing comfy, cozy underwear, quill hovering atop, your legs wrapped around his hips - keeping him snug to you. kissing each other carnally, all slow and sloppy, breathy muffled moans into one another's mouths as he nudges his clothed chub-on on your pussy. leisurely winding his rock-hard cock against the pit of heat between your thighs. one hand on your throat deepening the kiss, the other holding your hand beside your head

pietro maximoff: before you both get down and dirty one night, he'd pull out a deep, dark red lipstick from his nightstand, asking you to put some on before you suck him off. he loves to see the red kisses scattered along his chest and stomach - your lipstick marks littered over his pale skin as you work down to settle between his thighs. he'd smear the red over your mouth, his thumb dragging over your slightly bruised lips - smudging the lipstick around. he keeps his eyes glued on you the whole time, watching the way your mouth wraps around his cock, leaving a messy red ring at the base - streaks running up his shaft

spencer reid: enjoys the intimacy of touch during sex. loves the feeling of your fingers in his messy curls, your hand soft and gentle on his face as his cock rocks into you. it would all be slow and sweet - the encounter so leisured and unrushed. the steady wind of his hips into yours and the warmth of each of your hands on one another faces, creating a beautifully tender moment

tangerine: loves to play with your cunt while he's sat behind. you'd lean into him against the headboard, your back resting against his chest, one of his arms tightly wrapped around your middle, the other between your thighs. he'd extend his neck, reaching around to kiss up the side of your throat, peppering your skin in soft, light kisses as he lazily rubs over your clit. middle and ring finger leisurely circling over the swollen nub. just him mindlessly toying with you as he kisses your cheek, whispering sweet words into your skin as he palms your tits with his spare hand

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

had some of these ideas floating around for ages, but never done anything with them—so finally finally wrote about the brainrot that’s been eating me up

added bucky and reid mar 5th

added logan oct 11th

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

Note

Hey darling, how are you? Hope your having an amazing day ❤️

So I saw your prompt list and I was thinking about b6 and b15 with Regulus Black and kinda Sunshine x Grumpy, like he really tries to keep the facade of being cold and unbothered but reader is just so kind and understanding with him that he just melts whenever it comes to her, the tipical "I hate everybody but you"

hi my love, have been a bit sick and stressed lately, but finding relief in writing, so thank you for your enrichment hihi<3 wishing u the best!

Prompts: B.6 "Are you falling asleep on me?" "..." "Alright then" & B.15 "How are you so cute right now?"

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, use of y/n, regulus black is traumatised and mentally unwell, reader is surprisingly stable and supportive (congrats), trying to make reggie have a dynamic and complex personality, not yet established relationship but Clearly Something, falling in love and fluff, implied fear of (unrequited) love on reggie's part

Note: y'all realllllly love the sunshine x grumpy dynamic with reggie, huh? me too dw

The library was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional scratch of quill on parchment. A low fire burned in the corner, its light barely enough to keep the chill at bay, but the two of you had stayed long past the warmth’s welcome. The vast shelves of books loomed around you like silent sentinels, their presence familiar and comforting in the way only a quiet, deserted library could be.

Regulus sat across from you, perfectly composed, as usual. His quill hovered over a parchment filled with notes – meticulously neat, with that sense of perfection you had come to associate with him, exactly as he intended. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes as he read, but he didn’t brush it away, too focused on whatever passage had captured his attention.

You admired him, hoping your tired gaze was not too obvious – though maybe it would be good for him to see it. The late hour was getting to you, but you didn’t want to leave, not yet. Nights like this, studying alongside Regulus, had become a routine your body craved. Though he rarely gave any indication that they meant something to him, you had come to peak far enough behind the cracks of his exterior to know he did. Should he wish to not be near you, he would have left, he never had any reservations for doing so when Barty got too many of his nerves or Sirius was too loud.

Yet here you were, both of you drowning in books, the silence broken only by the sound of your quills and the faint crackling of the fire. He seemed... content.

You shifted slightly in your seat, hoping to stifle a yawn as you stretched your stiff legs under the table. The movement caught Regulus’ attention, and he glanced up from his book, dark eyes scanning your face.

“You’re tired,” he stated, his voice low and matter-of-fact. It wasn’t a question.

“Not really,” you lied, offering him a small smile as you looked back down at your notes, dried quill hovering over the page. You could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he returned to his book, but his silence spoke louder than any rebuttal. You weren’t fooling him, not for a second.

Regulus knew you as well by now, and he could easily see through your casual deflections. He was also sweet enough on you to not call you out on it yet.

Charms had never been so dreadful as it was tonight, all theory as you copied information from the textbook over onto your parchment. You felt yourself beginning to drift again, blinking only made you sleepier, and the words on the page blurring together in front of your eyes. You pressed your lips together, determined to stay focused, but the exhaustion clung to you like a heavy cloak.

You rearranged yourself to be more comfortable, bringing your legs up underneath you and leaning your head on your arm, taking up perhaps a bit more desk space than what is considered gracious.

Regulus’ quill still scratched against his parchment and you looked up at him through your lashes. He hadn’t glanced at you in a while, his brow furrowed as he scribbled something in the margin of the book he was reading. Upon your movements, though, you saw a small, soft smile tug on his lips, the kind that you weren't sure anyone but you would recognise.

It had become a familiar sight, both the smile and the way he hunched slightly over his work, his focus intense. It was like he was shutting out the world around him – around us, he had once absentmindedly corrected when you told him as much. His face blank then, not paying any mind to the giant grin growing on your own face.

“How do you do it?” you asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the question. Your voice was soft, but in the quiet library, it felt like a disruption. Regulus looked up, his quill pausing mid-scratch, abandoning his sentence.

“Do what?” he asked, his voice even, though there was a hint of wariness in his eyes.

“Stay so… focused,” you clarified, gesturing vaguely to the piles of books around you. “I feel like I’m drowning in information, but you’re always so… collected.”

There was a brief pause. Regulus stared at you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he lowered his quill, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“It’s easier that way,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft for the stillness of the room. His eyes flicked to the side, avoiding yours as he added, “When you don’t let anything else in, it’s easier to focus.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders seemed to carry more weight than they should. There was always something simmering beneath the surface with Regulus – something unspoken, something guarded. He never let it out, never gave anyone the chance to see what was really going on inside his mind.

And yet, here you were, sitting across from him in a quiet library, long after everyone else had left, simply because you wanted to. So far, he had been brave enough to let you.

“And is that what you want?” you asked, keeping your tone light, non-confrontational. “To keep everything locked out?”

Regulus didn’t respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the table for a long moment before he finally met your gaze again, his expression carefully controlled. “It’s necessary,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned back in your chair, letting his words settle between you. Necessary. The way he said it felt heavy, like there was so much more beneath that single word. You didn’t push. You never did. Regulus wasn’t someone who opened up easily, and the last thing you wanted was to make him feel like he had to.

You wished more than anything that he could see himself the way you did. That he could let go, just a little, and realise that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you said softly, almost to yourself, as you turned your gaze back to your parchment.

Regulus heard you, though. He always did.

A small silence fell between you again, this one thicker with unspoken thoughts. You turned a book on its side to read it from your position lying on your arm, trying to ignore the heaviness of the atmosphere. Regulus hadn’t moved, his hands still folded in front of him, his brow slightly furrowed as though deep in thought.

“I don’t–” Regulus’ voice cuts through the quiet suddenly, making you look up. His jaw tensed slightly before he continued, “I don’t let people in because it is… easier. Safer.”

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, as though he wasn’t used to sharing even that much. It wasn’t a full confession, not by any means, but it was more than he usually offered, and you understood how much it cost him to say even that.

“You've let me in, though, have you not?” you tried softly, offering him a small, understanding smile. “And so far it's been safe.”

Regulus blinked at that, surprise flickering in his dark eyes. He was not sure what he had expected you to say, but clearly not that.

It looked like he was at a slight loss of words, so you continued, smile still plastered on your face. "I understand what you mean, though. It's not easy to trust in general, and you have had it harder than most. Take everything in your own time, Reggie."

Regulus remained quiet, his gaze dropping back to his notes. You could feel him retreating, slipping back behind his mask, and you let him. You weren’t here to break down his defences, only to be there when he was ready to let someone in. His hand skirted closer to where yours was fidgeting with your quill – not quite touching, but close enough. Close enough.

You turned back to your book, allowing him his silence, trying to make sense of the words that felt increasingly foreign. The night was catching up with you, pulling you deeper into the edges of sleep.

“Y/N.”

Regulus’ voice brought you back to the present. You blinked, realising you had almost drifted off again, your head tilted dangerously close to the open pages of your book. There was a certain mirth in his gaze when it met yours, quickly subdued by what looked like a weary worry.

“I’m fine,” you said assuredly, straightening up in your chair with a slight wince. You could feel the stiffness settling into your back and elbow from sitting too long.

Regulus didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with that same quiet intensity he always had, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You should go,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than you expected. “It’s late.”

You gave him a sleepy smile, placing your head in your hand as you leaned on the desk. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”

Regulus exhaled through his nose, odd mixture of a sigh and a laugh. “I don’t mind being alone,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice that made you think he didn’t believe it as much as he wanted to.

“I know," you said, tone gentle, "but I do.”

"You mind being alone?"

"I mind you being alone."

That seemed to catch him off guard. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he looked down at his lap, his quill tapping against the edge of the table in an absent rhythm.

"I don't really know what to say to that." His face was still partially shielded from you, but you could see there was no menace in his words – just confusion, maybe even... amusement?

"Admitting you don't know something is a good start."

He gave you the first genuine laugh of the night, albeit small. "Okay then." He looked up at you finally, slight smile still playing over his features.

You watched him for a moment longer, noting the contrast of his tense shoulders with his humoured face. He was trying so hard to hold it together, even now.

"I'll stay here for as long as you do, Reg, and I know you still have a few pages left in you."

You leaned back in your chair again, stretching and letting out a small yawn. Regulus eyed you carefully, as if considering something.

"I do," he started. "But if you're staying any longer, you should get more comfortable."

He nodded his head towards the place beside him. While you were sitting in a wooden chair, he sat in a comfy, cushioned love-seat with just enough space for you to join him in. Had you not been intent on studying, you might have sat there from the start, but the harsher chair usually helps you study.

Now, though, you did not hesitate to slip around the table and sink into Regulus's seat with a sigh.

He looked at you over his shoulder, body still angled towards his notes, smiling fondly at you. "Better?"

"Much better, though I hope you know you're playing a risky game right now."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I might fall asleep here and you will have to stay overnight. It would be rude to leave me."

Regulus just laughed, not dignifying you with further banter, as he turned back to his books. You had one in your lap as well, but the words were mostly jumbled by now.

The next hour trickled by with sparse conversation between the two of you, mostly just the comfortable silence you had grown between you over the months. You asked Regulus a question every now and again, about coursework or life, and he gave you his usual, short answers, though with a much kinder tone than he reserved for others who pestered him with interrogations.

He was halfway through an explanation of why the professor thought it necessary to make you write an essay that is essentially just restating the textbook when he felt something soft thud against him. He looked down and saw the top of your head, hair slightly messy from the hours in the library, lodged between his uniformed arm and back.

"Amour? Are you falling asleep on me?"

"..."

"Alright, then." Regulus couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips, filled with more emotion than he would have let slide with anyone around. "You did warn me."

Careful not to startle you, he manoeuvred himself around so you were resting against his chest instead, and then slowly lowered you backwards to lean against the back of the chair. One hand cradled your head as he moved you, so you wouldn't get whiplash – there was no other reason, of course.

You were surprisingly soundly asleep for someone who asked him a question mere minutes ago, but then again, he suspected you had been fighting sleep for around two hours. To stay here with him. Regulus's heart clenched at that, and it did not go unnoticed by him that before he would have felt immense guilt for this moment occurring, and now he just felt... oddly soft. Warm.

He tried to place you in a comfortable enough position, still keeping some of your weight up with the left side of his body. With a tentative, slightly shaking thumb, he brushed away some hair that had fallen in your face

Part of Regulus ached to stay like this. To have an excuse to be this close to you, to feel so vulnerable without the overwhelming panic that often threatened to take over his body and mind. He basked in the sense of safety you were somehow able to provide him, but it would take hard work to be able to accept and embrace it. In the creeping darkness of the library, secluded just the two of you, it felt much easier.

Yet, despite your jokes about rudely waking you up, he did not want to risk detention for the both of you by being caught staying out past curfew.

"Y/N?" With a hand on your cheek, he tried to gently move your face to get your attention and draw you out from sleep. "Hey, amour, you need to wake up."

You let out an impudent groan, eyes squeezing as you turned your head a little – into Regulus's hand, he noted with hitched breath. "W'is it?" You slurred your words and he had to stifle his laughter.

"You need to wake up, darling. You fell asleep in the library, but we're done now. Time to get back to your dorm."

You just huffed at that, clearly trying to stay asleep by burying your face – still clutching Regulus's hand to the other cheek – into the cushion behind you. He tried to use his hand on your face again to lightly shake you, but you just grabbed his elbow and held it still in response. Eyes still decidedly shut.

This time, Regulus couldn't hold back his laugh, which in turn made you squint open an eye.

"What are you on about, Reggie?" Your voice was not only rough from sleep, but a bit annoyed, which in turn made Regulus all the more humoured. He never would have taken you, with all your painfully kind words and looks and understanding, to be grumpy in the morning.

"I don't even know," he said through a rather large grin. "How are you so cute right now?"

"Don't know, just am. Come sleep."

"No, no, darling. Time to get up so you can go sleep."

It seemed as if his words somehow seeped through your mind and you finally processed the situation. You opened your eyes and all-but-jerked into an up-right position – face now rather close to Regulus's, enough to see the whiteness of his teeth as he laughed at you. He was laughing at you. The bastard.

"Good morning," he teased, forgetting himself.

"Did you call me cute?"

The humour was almost washed from his face as he seemed to wake up himself, but an endearing smile still clung to his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't." Your smile now matched his. "How much do you have left?" You gestured to his books with your free hand – only now noticing that your other was still clutching his elbow. His hand dropped from your face the second your properly woke up, but you never let go of him. Maybe the sleep made you delirious or his comment made you brave, because you kept your hand on him.

"Oh, I'm finished." He gave you a look that you couldn't tell if was teasing because you clearly didn't or if he was lying about being done so you could go sleep. Either way, you accepted it.

"Great, let's get us to bed then, shall we?"

When Regulus got out of his seat, he held out a hand to you, to help you up. When you accepted it and ended up standing almost impossibly close to him, he didn't step back, and he didn't look away. He just smiled.

"Yeah, let's."

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