synicaljah

[synicaljah]

Tom Riddle as Your Husband ♡

you’re his trophy wife, living in the golden cage

he doesn’t just want you, he owns you

in public, his charm is magnetic, his hand resting on your back, his smile perfectly in place. But behind closed doors, his gaze may turn cold and distanced

when he hurts you, he swears it’s the last time. he kneels, his lips brushing your hands with fervent, desperate kisses. but he never changes, not really

when you’re too kind to another man, his grip on your hand tightens, the metal of your wedding ring pressing painfully into your pale skin

every anniversary, he presents you with an extravagant bouquet of red roses

he can vanish from the manor for days, leaving no explanation behind. yet, he always have to know exactly where you are

what's strange is no matter how cold he’s been, when he sleeps, he pulls you close, with a need that edges on desperation

“I thought of you when I saw this.” - and then he places the finest, most elegant things in your hands

likes to hear you say his name

brushes his fingers along your cheek, his touch almost tender, but his eyes are dark

even when he’s not with you, his influence lingers—everyone knows whose wife you are

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello love, you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

support me here <3

[synicaljah]

Manchild

summary: But one day, when he forgets to show up-again-I hope you remember who did. characters: mattheo riddle. reader. cormac mclaggen. warnings: MANCHILD ALERT word count: 1.2k

You’re running late. Again.

The clock above the grand fireplace clicks past 8:05 as you rush down the stone corridor, boots untied, scarf half-on, and a forgotten mitten hanging from your teeth. The air bites, frigid from the castle’s drafty halls, and somewhere up ahead, you know Cormac is waiting-or more accurately, sulking-outside the courtyard arch where he’d said, “Be there at 8 sharp. I hate waiting.”

It was supposed to be your date night. Ice skating on the Black Lake. Something Cormac had heard Parvati mention and, in a fit of sudden performative boyfriend energy, decided to copy.

You round a corner and nearly barrel into Mattheo Riddle.

He catches you by the shoulders, steadying you with ease. He’s dressed in his usual black ensemble, cloak draped over a deep green sweater, silver rings flashing against the torchlight as his fingers linger longer than they should. His eyes, storm-dark and calculating, scan your disheveled form.

“Let me guess,” he drawls. “Sir McLaggot is too fragile to wait in the cold, so you’re the one sprinting through the castle with frostbite and zero coordination?”

You roll your eyes, trying to tie your boot. “He’s not that bad.”

“He is that bad,” Mattheo mutters, crouching beside you. He grabs the laces with deft fingers, brushing yours aside. “Your bow is a crime scene. Christ, love, what would you do without me?”

You look at him. Really look.

Hair tousled from the wind, snowflakes melting on his lashes, he smells like winter pine and dark tea. There’s always something sharp in Mattheo’s beauty-wolfish, unpolished. But tonight there’s something soft beneath it too, something vulnerable in the way he loops your laces just a little too slowly.

You smile despite yourself. “Probably fall flat on my face.”

He smirks, standing again, and offers you your missing mitten. You hadn’t even realized it had fallen.

“Go,” he says, voice low. “Before he has a tantrum and tries to fight a fourth-year again.”

You laugh, and his heart cracks.

The Black Lake is frozen over, the ice charmed by Flitwick himself. Students circle the lake in pairs, mittens clasped, cheeks pink. Cormac waits on a bench by the edge, shivering dramatically, his nose red and mouth curled in a frown.

“Finally,” he barks. “You said eight, love. Not half-past whenever-I-feel-like-it.”

You apologize, breathless, but his arms stay folded.

“I’ve been sitting here freezing. You didn’t think to bring me cocoa or something?” he adds with a theatrical shiver. “God, you’re so forgetful sometimes.”

You flush. You had been rushing. Trying to be on time. You almost say it, but swallow the words. Instead, you hold out your hand.

Cormac stares at the ice.

“You expect me to skate on that? You know how many people break their ankles doing this kind of rubbish? I thought there’d be, like... chairs or something.”

You blink. “You said this was your idea.”

He shrugs. “I thought it’d look cool. Didn’t think we’d actually have to do it.”

You deflate a little, smile faltering. “We could just try-”

“No. Let’s go back to the castle. I’m starving.”

By the time you return to the castle, your fingers are numb, but your heart’s colder.

Cormac complains about his boots, says your “dawdling” made him miss dinner, and storms off to “find something edible” in the kitchens. You stay back, alone in the common room, unwrapping your scarf with trembling hands.

And that’s when Mattheo finds you again.

Carrying two mugs of steaming cocoa.

No questions. No “I told you so.”

Just cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon, and a quiet nod toward the fireplace.

You sit beside him, sipping in silence.

“He didn’t even try,” you whisper after a while. “He just-he gave up. On the date. On me.”

Mattheo watches you. The firelight dances across your face-your lashes glistening, nose pink from the cold, the tiniest quiver in your bottom lip that makes his chest ache.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says simply.

You glance over, eyes wet. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.” He sets down his mug, voice steady but tight. “You’re loyal, kind, bright-you show up, even when people don’t deserve it. And he treats you like you’re... convenient.”

You’re silent.

Then: “Mattheo, he’s not all bad-”

“He makes you feel small,” he snaps, then swallows hard. “He leaves you out in the cold. I don’t.”

That stills you.

The room is quiet. Even the crackling fire holds its breath.

He leans forward, hands clasped, his voice dropping.

“Every time he forgets your birthday, or your favorite drink, or that you hate licorice wands-I remember. When you were sick, I brought you soup. When you were stressed, I studied with you 'til three. You never even had to ask. Because I pay attention, darling. I care.”

Your breath hitches.

He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I love you. And I’ve been loving you from the sidelines while he trips over his own ego and leaves you to clean up after him.”

Tears burn behind your eyes.

“Mattheo…”

But he’s already backing away, standing.

“I know. It’s not fair. You’re with him. And maybe you think that’s where you belong. But one day, when he forgets to show up-again-I hope you remember who did.”

And with that, he walks away.

Leaving you with cinnamon on your tongue, snow melting on your boots, and your heart cracking just wide enough to wonder if maybe-just maybe-you’ve been in the wrong arms all along.

[synicaljah]

so starved for content I might go to the real hellsite (wattpad)

[synicaljah]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝑊𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐻𝑂𝑃𝐸

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (angst, slight fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you’re forced to work with your ex boyfriend on a potions project. (“you don’t hate me ?/could never hate you”)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

if there was one thing every wizard knew about the world’s infamous mattheo riddle, it was that the brown haired boy was a professional at holding grudges. ever since the two of you had broken up against your will a couple of months ago, leaving your soul hollow and your heart shattered, he had been avoiding you like the plague. as if you hadn’t once been his other half, a fragment of his soul, your relationship was buried deep, replaced by an usual facade of sarcasm and bitterness.

breaking mattheo’s walls down had taken time and patience from you, the result of years of slowly trying to earn his trust and make your way into his heart. however when you two called it off, his demeanour completely changed. in the blink of an eye he’d become closed off and distant again, nonchalantly deciding to ignore the way the two of you could’ve had it all if he hadn’t thrown it all away.

“get over it, it’s been months already” the voice in your head echoed when you found yourself analysing the situation for the hundredth time instead of focusing in class. without noticing, your attention had completely shifted from professors snape’s monotonous potions lesson to the one and only boy that occupied your mind, and it seemed, your heart too. straightening your posture and leaning back in your chair, you brought your focus back to what your teacher was saying.

being about to raise your hand to tell the professor that he’d forgotten to pair you up for the upcoming potions project, you were interrupted by a loud sound coming from behind you. there was a boy, entering the classroom in the middle of the lesson without a care in the world. no other mattheo riddle, the one and only brunette who perpetually clouded your thoughts.

“glorious entrance as always, mr riddle. you sure know how to stand out” bitterly declared the teacher, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. you restrained yourself from turning around, the sudden shift in the atmosphere sending tingles down your spine. over the past few months, it had become a habit everytime the familiar brunette boy entered the room. “i was just about to pair up the last student for the upcoming project” pursed snape while mattheo casually sat down in the back of the class.

and there it was. the realisation. “given your delay, you won’t have a choice. you will have to work with mrs delarose.” your shoulders tensed at the sound of your last name. of course he had to pair you, the perfect and smart student, with your troublemaker ex boyfriend. “so much for getting over it” you thought, anxiously biting your bottom lip and thinking about the consequences of snape’s decision. the rest of the classroom had already moved on and began writing down some notes, leaving only you and mattheo reeling at the though of having to face eachother again.

✩✩✩✩

hours passed slowly until the sun finally set on hogwarts. the walls of the castle echoed with the sound of students heading to the great hall, but you had a different destination in mind. holding your potions textbook tightly in your arms, you made your way to the astronomy tower, a place that once held beautiful memories, but now only reminded you of what you had lost.

you hesitated at the bottom of the staircase, your heart hammering in your chest. you knew mattheo would be up there, waiting, and the thought made your breath catch. but there was no escaping this and snape had made sure of that. when you finally reached the platform, you found mattheo already there, leaning against the stone wall. he didn’t turn around, but you knew he was aware of your presence. the silence between you was thick and almost suffocating.

“we should get started,” you finally said, breaking the tension that hung in the air. your voice was steadier than you felt, not giving away how nervous you were feeling about finally talking to him again. “yeah,” mattheo replied, his tone void of emotion. he turned to face you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “let’s just get this over with.”

you nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand. without even properly greeting eachother, the two of you sat down and got to work in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft bubbling of the potion. despite the close proximity, it felt like there was a barrier of unsaid thoughts between you. as the potion simmered in the cauldron, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. his face once so familiar, seemed distant and unapproachable. you wondered if he ever thought about what you had or if he had truly managed to bury it all under his layers of indifference.

“why did it have to end like this?” the question slipped out before you registered it, your voice barely above a whisper. you weren’t sure if you wanted him to answer, or to brush it off like he usually did. mattheo froze, his hand hovering over the cauldron. for a moment, you thought he might not respond and that he would continue to pretend you didn’t exist. but then he sighed softly and spoke up.

“because i thought it was for the best,” he said quietly, not meeting your gaze. “but i was wrong.” your heart skipped a beat at his admission, causing it to beat a little faster. “then why are you still pushing me away?” you asked, “why are we still doing this?” mattheo finally looked up from the cauldron, his eyes betraying the emotions he’d tried so hard to hide. “because it’s easier to be angry than to feel the pain,” he confessed. “i thought that if i hated you, it would make it easier to forget. but i can’t.”

the raw honesty in his words ignited something inside you, and before you knew it, you spoke up again. “you don’t hate me ?” mattheo stared at you, his expression torn between surprise and guilt. for a long moment, he didn’t move, as if he was replaying your words in his head. “i never hated you. never have, never will” he confessed in a whisper.

the words hung in the air between you and you felt a tightness in your chest ease just a little, like a weight lifting. "then why did we have to go through all of this?" you asked, your voice soft, not accusing but genuinely curious. "why did we let it get this far?"

mattheo closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. when he opened them again, he looked at you with regret. "because i was scared," he admitted, "scared of how much you meant to me. of how much losing you would hurt. scared of bringing you into my dark life, or making you my father’s target.” he confessed, taking deep breaths. “so, i thought if i distanced myself and if i pushed you away, it would make it easier. but it didn’t. it just made everything worse."

“i didn’t want that. i never would’ve pushed you away because of who you are.” you declared, mattheo’s eyes searching yours as if trying to see if you were genuine. then, he muttered. "i don’t want to keep hurting you," he said, his voice low and rough with emotions. "and i didn’t want to break up with you, i just thought… i thought you deserved better and i was being selfish”

you felt a spark of hope, something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and chuckled. "you were selfish for stealing my chocolate bars and for wanting me to give you scalp massages all the time. most of all, you were selfish for breaking up with me" you said simply, offering him a small, tentative smile. "but never for thinking you didn’t deserve my love."

he let out a small smile at your familiar banter and for a moment, neither of you moved. the reality of what you were saying seemed was too fragile to touch. and could at any moment. but then mattheo reached out, his hand hesitating for just a second before gently taking yours. the touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of peace.

"really ?" he said, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. you nodded, squeezing his hand lightly as he looked at you to make sure you meant it. "really." you echoed, the silence of the night wrapping itself comfortably around the two of you.

you realized that while the past couldn’t be erased, the future was still yours to make. maybe the universe (and mattheo) would try to keep you away, but you’ll always end up coming back to eachother no matter what. that was just the simple truth, mattheo riddle was your person, and you were his.

“i’m still expecting chocolate bars and scalp massages, though…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : for the person who made a request to @tateshifts !!! please like/comment/reblog and don’t hesitate to give requests <3

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[synicaljah]

me when i see a “slytherin boys headcanons” post with everyone under the sun EXCEPT for blaise….. y’all aren’t slick

[synicaljah]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ just a little drabble about slightly jealous & possessive mattheo

Mattheo’s fingers traced warm lazy circles over your thigh, the feeling of which when combined with the stifling air in the classroom, heavy in post-lunch haze, and the drone of Professor McGonagall’s voice made you want to curl into his lap and fall asleep.

You offered him a slow smile as you leaned your cheek on your palm and he offered one back, his perfect lips curling as he looked at you in a way you knew was reserved only for you.

McGonagall said something that garnered mutters and groans but to be fair a werewolf could have walked into the classroom and you would have missed it, lost in Mattheo’s brown eyes.

His head inclined slightly towards the front of the room, and his brow furrowed as you heard the words “project” and “random partner assignment”. His fingers squeezed your thigh as she started reading out the names.

"Mr. Crabbe and Ms. Brown"

"Ms. Parkinson and Ms. Patil"

"Ms. YLN and Mr. Potter"

Mattheo sat up straight to his full height in attention, his back rigid, his eyes dark and narrowed at McGonagall as his fingers squeezed your leg tighter, teetering on the edge of discomfort as he ignored that he’d gotten paired with his own random Gryffindor.

You placed your hand over his and only that touch seemed to bring him back to earth.

“It's alright” you said quietly, just louder than a whisper. “It’s just a project.”

“You’re not spending a second in his airspace” he muttered, his voice gravelly, angry.

“Mattheo—”

“—Put aside the fact that he’s an egotistical self-impressed fuck who thinks he’s Godric’s gift to the world, he always pays you too much fucking attention.”

You tilted your head at that because when did you ever spend enough time around Potter for that to be the case, let alone for Mattheo to notice it?

Mattheo clocked the confused look on your face.

“Darling, I’m telling you, I see the way he looks at you—”

“—Mattheo” you said gently, smiling. Your heart swelled at his concern for you, even if you felt like it was misplaced.

But as the class dismissed, he stood and moved smooth and purposefully to the front of the room as you rushed to grab your books and follow him.

“Professor?” he said, his tone level and calm, suave and persuasive as he flashed a thousand-watt smile at her. “I’d like to request a change in partners. Ms. YLN and I have the same schedule, and as members of the same house it would be much more advantageous for our focus and our ability to master this material if we worked together, especially with the quidditch finals coming up, as I’m sure you’d agree?”

She stared sternly at him over the rim of her glasses, her lips in a firm line.

“If this assignment is too much for you on top of your quidditch responsibilities, I’ll be sure to let Professor Snape know so you can devote more time to your studies?”

His smile dropped to a scowl so quickly you could feel a chill in the air.

“My answer is final” she said when he didn't move.

You watched his fist curl at his side, out of her sight.

“Very well, professor” he said.

Mattheo was a bit a cloudy after that, though not with you, never with you. If anything, he was softer and even more affectionate, touchy, possessive.

He pressed soft kisses to your cheek at dinner, murmuring against your ear, “I can talk to Snape you know, get the assignments changed, I’m sure.”

“It’s fine, really, we’ll split the work, power through and move on” you said assuredly, much less concerned about the situation than he was. “You know…” you said, turning your head so your noses brushed, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I know” he said, smiling cockily, his lips lingering over yours. “My fucking girl” he nearly growled and goosebumps spread up your arm, your body alight to his response. “Just as long as everyone else remembers it. I’m not jealous, love. Jealous is when you want something that isn’t yours” he said as he brushed his knuckles against your jaw. Territorial is protecting what you already have.”

You agreed to meet Harry in the library the following week in a quick and courteous exchange with every intention of spending as little time together as possible.

As you sat across from him you fixed your focus on your textbook and notes and only lifted your head when you felt his gaze on you as he sat unmoving in his chair.

“That’s… a nice sweater, you look nice today” he said, smiling shyly.

You offered a barely-there smile in return.

“You know I wish we’d talk more, get to know each other, but Mattheo…” he let the name drift off like a spell as a blush rose on his cheeks and he fiddled nervously with his quill.

And all you could think was fuck Mattheo had been right.

“Let’s just focus on the project” you tried.

“—He’s a bit intense, no? Mattheo?” Harry blurted.

You cocked your eyebrow at him. He couldn’t be serious.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just looking out for you YN, guys like that—” but what exactly he might have wanted to say died on his lips as his eyes blew wide and wandered over your shoulder.

You knew before you turned around; you could sense him like your own shadow even if Harry’s vividly fearful look wasn’t giving it away.

“Darrrlinng” his voice purred, curling around you like wisps of smoke as he leaned over the back of your chair and placed a large coffee there, pausing just long enough to stare at Potter who looked three sizes smaller as he shrank into his seat.

You saw Mattheo reach for his pocket out of the corner of your eye and watched as Harry’s hand twitched towards his robe, but Mattheo pulled something small and shiny out, your eyes dancing over it as he reached for your wrist, which felt small and fragile in his large hands.

He gently clasped it there and you realized it was a gold and diamond tennis bracelet, with a small ‘M’ charm that dangled and danced in the low library light.

You smiled and could feel your heartbeat thrumming in your body.

“Mattheo” you whispered, turning to face him where he loomed, still leaning over the back of your chair, his head beside yours.

He turned to you granting you that perfect smile before curling a finger under your chin, then grasping it firmly in his hand as he kissed you with immediate passion, like he was leaving for war, bruising at first, and then deep, languid, unforgiving and unashamed.

You couldn’t help how hot your blood ran as you grasped at the front of his robes and then all too soon he pulled away, pressing one more firm kiss to your lips, then your nose before letting you go and pulling back with another look at Potter before he walked away wordlessly.

Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath and your cheeks were red from the adrenaline, from the grasp of his hands.

Your ran your fingers over your lips absentmindedly noting that they felt swollen from his kiss as you swiped at the errant lipgloss that he’d smeared there. And then you realized with a knowing smile that now there wasn’t a place Potter could look at you from your mussed hair, to your wet lips and the diamonds on your wrist that glittered as you grabbed your quill without a singular reminder of who you were and whose you were.

His eyes were averted for the rest of the afternoon, commenting only when needed, and very quietly at that, on the project.

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[synicaljah]

full throttle (how mattheo drives) ♡

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Here's a thought that literally no one asked for, but I cannot get out of my brain...

Mattheo genuinely cannot imagine anything worse than being a muggle, than not being able to use magic to get what he wants when he wants, to control the world around him.

Really everything about muggles seems useless and pointless to him.

But then he's on a guy's trip to London.

And he sees a muggle whip into a parking spot in front of the bar in all-black Maserati Granturismo.

It's fast and loud, flashy, dangerous and ungodly expensive and he needs to have it.

Next thing you know you're getting a text: "Sooo, I did something 😬"

And for a moment you're panicking.

Then he sends you a picture of the car.

And you're genuinely so confused, because what the hell does he need a car for??

But then you're beside him in the soft leather seats, watching him poised comfortably in the driver's seat, legs spread, one hand on the wheel, one hand on your thigh that keeps riding higher and higher as he's pushing 80, 90, 100 miles an hour.

You can feel the power of the car thrumming beneath you as he's taking turns and weaving in between other cars in a way that has your stomach in your throat.

He is reckless, driving like he's untouchable, like magic will save you if you go careening off the highway.

And he doesn't give a single fuck because he's gotten a taste of the adrenaline, and he's addicted to it.

He listens to his music as loud as it can go, the bass shaking the frame of the car, rattling the rearview mirror, sending pulses through your body.

(Probably Kendrick Lamar or some amped up house music).

He loves being immersed in the music, the hum of the car, the speed of the world as it passes by his window, the feel of your warm skin under his fingers. It's the one godsforsaken place that his mind is actually quiet.

He gets a smirk on his face every time his recklessness coaxes a gasp out of you, when he gets a little too close to the car next to you, or he pushes the accelerator even further.

(Even better if you grab his hand and squeeze).

He loves the sight of you as his passenger princess, how perfect you look by his side, in the curved plush of the seat, like it was made for you.

He loves how you'll shift in your seat to look at him unabashedly, or how you'll scoot closer to him, leaning over the center console to reach your hand into his curls or press a kiss to his cheek.

The dichotomy of the raw power beneath him and your gentle touch just does something to him.

Before long he's pulling over and tugging you into the back seat, desperate to have you on top of him, extraordinarily thankful for the extra tint on the windows.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy

[synicaljah]

─ .✦ overprotective & possessive boyfriend mattheo

Mattheo genuinely never wanted anything as badly as he wanted you, and he put in the work to make you his.

(Let's be honest, you fell for him almost immediately).

But he knew never to get complacent with you, he couldn't, not with the way that you drew the attention of nearly everyone around you; you were stunningly beautiful with a pure heart and a kind soul.

And he's the Dark Lord's son, and a willing death eater, he knows how much danger that puts you in; his devotion to his father, and his overwhelming adoration of you constantly in conflict.

But you're determined to see the good in him no matter what.

And he's determined to do everything in his power to keep you, to protect you.

He loves you fiercely, hungrily, unceasingly. And you adore him for it.

He can be scarily intense, and you're just heart eyes for him no matter what.

Frankly, if looks could kill, there would be a path of bodies in his wake.

He always has to be close enough to touch you, a hand on your thigh, on your lower back, in the back pocket of your jeans, it's his way of reminding himself that you're with him, that you're safe.

He grasps you tightly in large crowds, tugging you into him.

"Hold my hand" (It's a demand, not a request).

You're always on his lap, your arms around his broad shoulders and he loves it just as much for himself as to let everyone else around him know what's what.

King of excessive PDA™️

If he sees another guy looking at you, he'll pull you into him and kiss you full on, no matter where you are.

You love the attention and the way he kisses you, completely oblivious to the way he shoots daggers over your head, the way he's essentially marking his territory.

He loves anything that marks you as his. He buys you a 14k gold "M" necklace, and a forever bracelet with his initials, enamored with the idea that you can never take it off.

His friends adore you and love having you around because he's noticeably chiller and happier with you there

They are also extremely protective over you, sometimes it feels like you have five boyfriends.

Behind closed doors, Mattheo is a mush.

He loves to lay his head on your lap and wrap his arms around your waist, to feel your fingers card through his curls, he swears it's heaven.

He has to physically restrain himself with you, unaware sometimes of his own strength, leaving strong fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs that he'll feel awful about and will spend the night kissing.

The only exception is hickies which he'll unapologetically adorn your neck with at every opportunity.

Has a mouth on him and no filter whatsoever.

A guy comes up to you while you're sitting next to him? "Fuck off mate" without even looking at him.

You're at the Three Broomsticks and he thinks someone's getting a little too close to you? "Back the fuck off of her before I make you."

Once you're shopping and he catches a guy checking you out. You're completely unaware until you feel him leave your side, and suddenly he's grabbing the guy by the front of his shirt, pinning him to the wall. "That's my fucking wife and you don't fuckin' look at my wife like that or she'll be the last thing you ever see."

You are low-key high-key so embarrassed and confused?!? Like? You’re not married???

"I'm sorry, wife?!" you ask as he's pulling you out of the store with him.

His dark eyes shoot to you and his lip twitches, fighting the rage pulsing through him and the look on your face, your flushed cheeks.

"I don't see a ring!" you say, flashing your hand at him.

He stops. "You want a ring? I'll get you a ring." And he's dead serious.

Now you're just standing there with your mouth slightly agape, not expecting this in the slightest.

He closes the distance between you taking the same hands that were just cutting off that guy's air supply to gently cup your face. "No part of that should be a surprise, gorgeous. You're mine, and you're always going to be mine."

Without fail, he has a Riddle family signet ring made for you, the cool metal of which he'll love feeling as he twines his fingers in yours, biding time to give you the 4k diamond and emerald ring he's had since your first date.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites

[synicaljah]

the new girl (pt.2) - mattheo riddle

summary: you come to find that keeping your situationship with mattheo a secret is harder than you anticipated.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: suggestive content, 18+, please read responsibly my dears.

a/n: dedicated to the brilliant person who thought mattheo should be italian. i am kissing you.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ part one here

Mattheo’s lips glided over your neck, alternating in a pattern of kissing and sucking that had your eyes fluttering closed as his hands wandered over your body.

“How long are we going to keep this a secret, bella?” he murmured against you without ceasing.

“Mmm, why? Aren’t you having fun?” you responded coyly, your own hands moving to untuck his shirt, to run your fingers over the firmness of his abs.

His body was electric for you and his mind wiped completely at the sensation of your touch as he pulled back to take in the vision of you, pinned against the wall, the way your heavily lidded eyes met his, unwavering, and the way you subtly pouted at the loss of contact, if only for a second before he kissed you hungrily.

“F’course I’m having fun” he mumbled against you. “But I wouldn’t mind taking you to my room every once and awhile, as nice as these accommodations are” he said, referring to the broom closet you were squeezed into.

“I got here three weeks ago and I’ve spent nearly every day since like… this” you said breathlessly as his hands wound into your hair, kissing you deeper.

“So?” he said, in the briefest pause.

“So I don’t want people to draw conclusions… I don’t want to get a reputation.”

“And what reputation would that be cara mia, hmm?” he asked as his hands wound down your body.

“That you have good taste?” he prompted, his fingers dancing over the waistline of your skirt.

“That you like a bad boy?” he continued, his voice huskier as his hand slipped beneath your skirt and you could feel the cool metal of his ringed fingers against the inside of your thigh.

Your body shuddered in response. I don’t want people to think I’m…easy you thought, even though you knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone else, but there was something about Mattheo was simply irresistible, eclipsing your every waking thought and you had a sneaking suspicion he felt the same way.

“Maybe we wait—” you started as his fingers brushed against you, exactly where you wanted them and your breath hitched “—a little while longer” you whispered.”

“Whatever you say, principessa” he said before losing himself in you.

Mattheo was so fucking smitten with you he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He loved the thrill of your current… arrangement… how exhilarating it was trying to rile you up and keep you quiet at the same time as you snuck into broom closets, abandoned bathrooms and the deepest corner of the restricted section of the library to be together. You swore to him over and over again that this was totally out of character for you, that you never did anything like this before, and that drove him even crazier, knowing that he brought out a side of you that simply couldn’t get enough of him, especially because he felt the same way.

But despite the heady cloud of lust and adoration that seemed to carry him throughout his day, he couldn’t forget the words his friends had said about you that occasionally echoed in his subconscious.

 “She’s all anyone can talk about”

“I would take a bludger straight to the head for just a taste of that”

His palms curled into fists at the memory until he flexed and released them. His friends knew better than to run their mouths like that now, but he was quickly finding that only left him with the rest of the school to deal with.

In potions he could hear Cedric Diggory and Michael Corner talking about you, how hot you were, debating again if it was true that you had dated professional quidditch players, a question that kept resurfacing in a way that was beginning to bother him. He turned around to glare at them but when they caught his eye, he realized he had nothing to say and no reason to stop them, so instead he had to sit through the rest of the class nearly shaking with fury at their comments.

Then it was his teammates in the locker room before quidditch practice, placing bets on who would be the lucky guy to get with you first. He slammed his locker closed and stormed onto the field.

But it all came to a head when he passed you in the corridor, you breezed by each other, each surrounded by your group of friends and enough students that the burning gaze you exchanged with one another went completely unnoticed, even though he picked up the way you subtly bit your bottom lip at him, a tell he’d come to know as you being incredibly turned on. It took every ounce of his willpower not to throw you over his shoulder right there as you passed by but then a voice reverberated in the hall.

“YN! YN!” it shouted and he turned to see Seamus Finnegan yell at you as you passed him by.

“Want to see my wand, beautiful? It’s solid oak and 12 inches long!” His comment was met with a host of laughs and jeers from other Gryffindors and you rolled your eyes in a way that made it seem like this sort of thing happened to you all the time. Mattheo’s blood was boiling and he realized he was creating a commotion all his own by the way he was standing still and staring at you in the crowded thruway, his face grimaced and the tic on his jaw evident. Your cheeks flushed at the look of fury on his face until one of your girlfriends pulled you away.

That night in the library, you traced your fingers over the ridges of his bruised and battered knuckles before your eyes flickered to his, doe-like and innocent as you batted your eyelashes at him.

“What happened?” you whispered.

“S’nothing” he said, gently pulling his hand from your grasp and moving to cup your face, desperate to touch you, to kiss you.

“Doesn’t look like nothing” you pressed.  

He shook his head, blowing the comment off and moving closer to you until you said, “And what might Mr. Finnegan look like at the moment?”

“Like he’s taking a good, long, fucking nap in the infirmary with a pair of black eyes” Mattheo said, his voice low and rough.

And before you could comment, he added, “And I don’t want to spend another minute with you hearing another bloke’s name on those lips” as he kissed you firmly, seductively and grasped your face in his hands.

And then you were awash with him again, adrift in the sensation you’d come to crave from him, dripping with an air of possessiveness that had you coming apart faster than you had any time before.

You rode the high of Mattheo knocking someone out in your honor for days. The perfect combination of the way he lavished you and equally had such a capacity for violence excited you, thrilled you.

Your mind was drifting in and out of thoughts of him as you re-applied your lipgloss in the bathroom when you heard Pansy Parkinson and Astoria Greengrass chatting a few sinks over.

“Are Nicole and Mattheo still hooking up?” Astoria asked, catching your attention.

“She said he’s been ghosting her” Pansy replied. “Why, you want in on that?” she joked.

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it, haven’t you? You heard what she said about him.”

“Gods yes” Pansy agreed. “Maybe send him a little pic, you know he can’t resist that.”

They brushed by you and you realized your hands were shaking as you gripped the sink in front of you so tightly your knuckles were white.

That night Mattheo noticed something decidedly different about you, the way you twirled your tongue with his, the way you ran your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and sent shivers up his spine, like you were trying to tell him something without words, until finally your hands were on his belt and you pulled back from his lips for just a moment.

“Maybe this doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you said quietly.

His heart leapt in his chest, whether at the precarious position of your fingers at the present moment or the words you’d said, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not complaining, but why the sudden change of heart?” he asked.

You pouted and fidgeted and he realized there was no facial expression you could make that didn’t make him want to do absolutely sinful things to you as he kissed your pouted lips, turning them into a smile.

“Hang on. This doesn’t have anything to do with Nicole and Astoria getting expelled today, does it?" he said, a smirk blossoming on his lips in revelation. "I heard they had a bag of weed and a load of enchanted quills in their rooms.”   

Your eyes glinted as they flickered to his and you tugged him closer to you by his belt, softly biting your bottom lip as you shrugged halfheartedly, daring him to say more.

I fucking love this girl he thought clearly.

“If me spending every night on my knees for you wasn’t clear, cara mia, I am absolutely mental over you. And I’d love nothing more than for every girl in this school to know it, to know that I’m yours. Va bene?”

“Molto bene” you said, drawing the words out against his lips as you enveloped them, the sound of his native language coming from you demolishing him as he pulled you tightly against his chest.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @elsie-bells @hisparentsgallerryy @the-sylver-dragon @r-a-c-h-e-l @noodleboyluke @slutfordpr

[synicaljah]

cold comfort - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place.

word count: 4k

soundtrack: between the sheets - imogen heap

a/n: wait this is kind of a saga! it just kept flowing and flowing, but i'm obsessed with it! hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

When Mattheo heard that a first year in Charms cast a spell that backfired so badly it rendered Hogwarts unable to regulate the temperature in the castle, he'd nearly spit out his firewhiskey. The mental image of Flitwick, McGonagall and all of his other professors frantically trying to fix it to no avail gave him sick pleasure as he thought about all the times they'd looked down on him because of his last name. Fuck 'em he thought. Serves them right.

He'd enjoyed his twisted happiness for several days until an unexpected early spring snowstorm rolled off the mountains, leaving the castle a veritable chamber of cold. For two days now it had nearly been cold enough for him to see the white puff of his breath inside. As others scrambled for a place in front of the fireplaces, his mood darkened, making him even more sullen than usual as talk of canceling classes and sending everyone home began to circulate; home wasn't really a place he was looking to go back to.

So now he was sat in the Great Hall in a large sweatshirt with his hood drawn up around his face, the standard dress code long since forgotten, one hand wound tightly around his second cup of black tea in an effort to warm himself while the other rubbed his tired face as he listened to the incessant chatter of his friends.

He was quietly zoned out until he caught a glimpse of you walking through the large entryway. Everyone in the castle looked in disarray: mismatched sweaters, hats and gloves in haphazard layers to stay warm, but not you, you looked like a perfect snowbunny. You were wearing tight black leggings, fur-lined boots, a thick sweater and a headband to keep your ears warm that complimented your hair. Anyone looking closely enough would see the imperceptible tug of his lips into what could almost be called a smile as you made your way to the Slytherin table and slid onto the bench next to him.

It wasn't lost on him that his best friend was beautiful. He was well and painfully aware of the fact and had been for as long as he'd known you. But, despite the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind at the sight of you, he was determined to keep you at an arm's length. Simply put, you were too good for him, too pure. You had a smile that radiated a warmth that he could feel even now, you were caring and compassionate, smart and sweet, quick with a hug and a kind word. You were everything that he wasn't. He told himself, constantly, on repeat, that it was better to have you in his life at all than to fuck it up trying for anything more.

He subtly traced your face through the corner of his eye: your long lashes, the curve of your smile, and your warm, rosy cheeks, and just like no one but you could see his smile, no one but him noticed the tiredness in your eyes. He nudged his shoulder into yours.

"Alright?" he mumbled.

You glanced up at him, his groggy morning voice and the way his curls stuck out from his hood making you feel like you'd swallowed a pixie. You felt yourself flush, your exhaustion wearing down the mask you normally kept up around him, determined to never let him know how you really felt.

"Just tired s'all" you smiled kindly, nudging him back, coaxing what could almost be another smile out of him as you met each other's eyes. "I can't sleep for shit. No matter what I do, I can't get warm, even under a pile of blankets, in my fuzziest pajamas and a jumper" you shivered.

"Skin to skin is really the only solution" Pansy chimed in with a smirk as she sank further into Draco's arms and you rolled your eyes at the two of them. She had snuck out of your room the last few nights, leaving you not only cold, but alone too.

"Couldn't agree more" Theo said, smirking, before lifting an eyebrow at you "ready, able and at your service, babe" he said, opening his arms to you as you swatted him away, laughing at his attempt to flirt with you. He smiled widely and laughed back before glancing over your shoulder at Mattheo whose eyes were narrowed in his direction.

"What, mate, it's not like you're any help, what with your strict 'no sleepover policy'" Theo chirped at him, referring to the fact that regardless of how many girls came in and out of Mattheo's bed, (which was a sizable number) not one had ever stayed the night, always kicked out in the end, despite the fact that they hoped to be the one to break his streak.

You turned to see Mattheo shooting daggers at Theo.

"S'my bed" he muttered, "more than happy to have someone in it for awhile, but a lad's got to get his rest, yeah?" he laughed and the guys laughed back.

You faked a bitter smile, returning your attention to your breakfast in front of you. You weren't naive but that didn't mean you had to sit here and listen to this, you nibbled a piece of dry toast, the mental image of Mattheo with other girls making you nauseous.

Mattheo's smile fell from his face as he watched your reaction, and wished for the thousandth time that he could tell you that he made that rule because of you. Because if he couldn't have you, then he wasn't going to waste time getting closer than necessary with anyone else; the nights he spent alone his bed his punishment for who he was, the fact that he'd never be good enough for you.

You stood abruptly and shot him a small smile as you moved to leave. He said your name quietly and reached for your hand, but you were gone before you realized it.

That night you crawled into cold sheets that felt almost damp with a chill. Despite the pile of blankets and your thick pajamas, you couldn't get warm or comfortable, tossing and turning as small shivers ran through your body and Pansy's words echoed in your head. You were desperate for warmth at this point, desperate for a good night's sleep, but there was only one bed you wanted to crawl into, and it was with the only person who refused to share it.

Surely he would break his rule for you, for his best friend? you thought; things were different between you two. But were you willing to try, to embarrass yourself if he said no? You rolled around for another hour before climbing out of bed.

Mattheo was in a fitful sleep, which was not unusual for him; his nights were frequented by nightmares, leaving him constantly groggy and grumpy, but when he heard your voice, he was sure he was dreaming, a good dream, a great dream at that.

"Mattheo" you were whispering.

He turned to see you standing at the other side of his bed and was incredibly confused, until you moved to get in... and then he panicked. He panicked because he had thoughtfully planned every way to avoid this exact situation from the moment he met you, knowing that at this proximity he wouldn't be able to control himself. And he was right. You were close, too close. He could smell your shampoo, like warm vanilla, and his hands moved on autopilot towards you, his fingers twitching to bring you closer to him before he stopped himself, inches short.

"Whatareyoudoing?!" he whisper-mumbled in frustration, the words coming out angrier than he'd intended at the range of emotions he was feeling.

You froze, your heart shattering. He was angry. He didn't want you here, he didn't want anyone here. He was going to kick you out and you'd be mortified, your friendship would never be the same, you'd taken things too far. You felt a scratch in your throat as tears threatened to spring forward.

Even in the thick darkness, Mattheo could see that he'd upset you, able to read your expressions better than his own. He could see the wobble of your bottom lip as your wide eyes looked at him and he hated himself and the situation all the more for it.

"Please Matty, m'just so cold, I can't sleep" you whispered, using the nickname that was strictly forbidden for anyone but you that made him melt.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply, trying in his sleepy state to figure out a solution as he felt his strength waning; the figment of his every daydream was literally begging to be in his bed and he was certain he couldn't trust himself, certain that this only ended one way.

You took in his rigid form and his frustration and began to backpedal, moving to leave.

"M'sorry, it's okay, I'll go, maybe Theo—"

And you didn't even get a chance to finish your thought before you felt his large, warm hands wrap around your middle and tug you across the bed and into his chest, quickly but gently.

"C'mere" he mumbled as he settled you against him, chest to chest, your head tucked under his.

Your arms wound around him naturally, your legs intertwining, the two of you fitting together effortlessly, perfectly, like puzzle pieces. You let out a small giggle as you nuzzled into him, making yourself comfortable.

He could feel your warm breath as you let out a contented sigh, the innocent sound somehow sinful to his ears as he willed his mind to stop wandering in every direction it wanted to as he felt every dip and curve of your body against his own despite the layers of clothing between you. He kept his hands at your back, unmoving, for a moment unsure if he was even doing this right, unable to remember the last time he'd cuddled with anyone.

"Thank you" you whispered, your voice already sounding relaxed and sleepy to him as your fingers traced patterns on his back, a lavish feeling that released every ounce of tension he had been holding.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as his arms hugged you to him firmly and you felt a sensation like melted honey spreading through every inch of you, as he rubbed your back, warming you from your heart to the tips of your toes for the first time in days as you fell into a hazy sleep.

The first thought Mattheo had was that he felt heavy, his limbs felt weighted and his mind felt calm. Rested he realized after a moment. His brain was slowly turning back on, piecing together the dream he'd had, it was a dream, right? You, in his bed, in his arms, pressed against him, nuzzling into him, contented and happy. It felt so real, real enough that he could still smell you, the intoxicating scent of your shampoo, could still feel you in his arms, could still ghost his fingers down your back. You hummed in response and his eyes fluttered open only to realize it was definitely not a dream.

You were here, with him, in his bed, had been all night, your body still wound perfectly in his, neither of you having let go of one another or moved an inch; if anything, it was like you melded together even further. Fuck this is nice he thought as he looked down at you curled into his chest. This was everything, everything he'd hoped it would be. He wanted to stay like this for as long as physically possible, the looming fear of it having to come to an end already upon him.

Suddenly, a pillow came flying onto the bed, askewing the thick curtains that draped around his four-poster.

"Oi wake up, will you, Riddle? Shit, it's almost noon and we've got practice in an hour" came a shout as a cacophony of voices followed behind it into the room.

You stirred in Mattheo's arms just as a hand reached through his curtains to pull them aside.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Days" Blaise drawled, annunciating every word as the others gathered around him.

"I knew it, I fucking knew it"

"Let's gooooooo!!"

"Mattttyyyy!!!" each of them shouted as the jumped up and down in excitement at the sight of you in his bed.

"Fuck off" he said, grasping the pillow they'd thrown at him and hucking it back at them, causing them to disperse as they fell apart with laughter and more cheers.

He felt you shift next to him and looked back to see that you had pulled the covers over your head, just the tips of your fingers and the top of your head visible. He yanked his curtain closed before leaning back towards you and gently grasping the blanket near your hands to pull it back.

While not the wakeup you had hoped for nor expected, Mattheo pulling back the blankets with a soft sleep-ridden smile on his face and his rumpled curls to see you was a mental image that you were sure you would think about every day for the rest of your life. You were swimming in a sea of him, engulfed in his smell, like pine and amber, and you were delightfully warm; he was going to have to pry you out of here.

"Hi" he said quietly in his morning voice.

"Hi" you whispered back.

You looked perfect. He may have thought about waking up to you, with significantly less clothing on and significantly fewer onlookers, but he'd never considered how beautiful you would look, your eyes not all the way open yet, your hair spread like a blanket of its own and fuck if he didn't want to kiss you. His eyes drifted lazily to your lips and back again and he swore he saw a flash of something in your expression in response, curiosity, or perhaps confusion.

"I should—" he started, shaking his head clear.

"—Yeah, of course! Sorry, I didn't realize the time—"

"No problem, take your time—" he said as he rolled out of bed to more cheers and shouts as he shepherded his friends out the door to give you some privacy.

You pulled the sheets back over your heard, burying yourself further into his blankets, reveling in the warmth his body had left before squealing with excitement at the way your day had started.

You were afraid that things would be awkward, but surprisingly they weren't, you were in your easy, unbothered rhythm together. Besides the giggles and teasing from your friends, nothing had changed... including the temperature. As the day went on the warmth you had woken up in faded and you felt progressively more cold settling into your bones, already dreading the cold night ahead of you.

Spending the night with Mattheo was a nice reprieve, but not something you intended to make a habit of, certain you didn't want to live through more teasing nor get your hopes up trying to read into how intimate it had felt.

You were leaving dinner, arms wound around yourself at the chill in the air when you heard a voice calling for you. You turned to see Mattheo jogging after you.

"Hey!" he called.

"Hey" you smiled back, glancing up at him as he fell into step with you.

He smiled readily back at you; he'd seemed peppier today, letting the ceaseless taunting roll of his back with a shrug of his shoulders, the unwillingness to turn everything into an argument or fistfight very uncharacteristic of him.

"Yeah, so—" he started to say, as he looked around for a moment and carded his hand through his hair. He took in how cold you looked and all he could think was how badly he wanted to fix it. "—About last night or whatever...I know it's still fucking frigid, if you wanted to come by or sleep with, er, stay with — in my — yeah, you could do it again if you wanted?"

You couldn't hide the smile the spread widely across your face, nor the way your eyes sparkled mischievously as you stopped walking to face him.

"Mattheo Riddle, are you asking me to sleep with you?" you said flirtatiously, leaning towards him.

He stopped breathing. Your proximity and the words coming out of your mouth snatched every last breath and every last thought he'd had.

"Don't fuck around with me" he said through smirked lips, his voice low and measured, holding a hint of playfulness, but also a warning.

You laughed softly back but didn't back down.

"I'll see you tonight" you said as you continued your path back to the common room, leaving him gazing after you.

Your new outfit that night wasn't lost on him. You were wearing a form-fitting pair of soft pants and a matching top that hung slightly off your shoulder, revealing the lace of a bralette. You crawled into bed beside him, smiling contentedly and curling into his arms like you were married, like this was the most normal, easy, simple thing in the world, and yet it still took him a minute to really comprehend the situation, to relax.

He barely had a minute to catch his breath before Blaise shouted across the room, "Goodnight Theo!"

"Night, Blaise!" Theo shouted back.

"Night, Enz!" Blaise said again.

"G'night!" Enzo replied.

Mattheo rubbed a hand over his face at the antic.

"I swear they don't do this every—" he started.

"—Night, Draco!" Blaise shouted.

"And Pans!" Theo chimed in.

"Full fuckin' house in here" Enzo said.

"Goodnight!" she giggled back.

"Goodnight Mattheo..." Blaise said slowly, drawling out his name.

Mattheo didn't reply.

"GOODNIGHT YN" they each shouted.

You laughed, "Goodnight!" you said back and they cheered as Mattheo turned and buried his head into your shoulder in embarrassment, letting his body weight fall on you in exasperation.

You laughed at his reaction, instinctively bringing a hand to tangle in his curls and hold him to you before you could stop yourself. It was decidedly more intimate than anything that had happened between you before, but it had just felt right, something about pulling him into you, comforting him. You paused after a moment, catching yourself... running your hands through his hair should not make you feel this way; suddenly, you were very very warm.

As if he could sense your reaction, he lifted his head just slightly to meet your eyes, his face inches from yours.

He had to feel your heart hammering in your chest at this proximity, right? As he searched your face, it felt like a veil had come down between the two of you after a night spent together on top of years spent dancing around one another like you didn't know exactly what this could be. On cue, the room around you fell deeply silent as the others settled into sleep.

Your hand slowly dropped to trace his cheek.

"YN" he said in a low voice, cautious, guarded, his tone roughly translating to "Don't".

"What?" you whispered.

"I can't" he said.

"Can't what, Matty?"

The nickname made his heart beat double-time, an impossible feat based on the way it was already drumming loudly in his ears.

"You know what" he said sternly.

"Why?" you asked, innocently, the tips of your fingers moving to trace his jaw, nearing his lips before his hand grasped yours firmly, stopping you, making you jump slightly.

His body was rigid and taught, his expression was serious, maybe even threatening to anyone but you, but all you could see was the look in his eyes that were burning with something else, something much more passionate than anger.

His words were strained, like it was a physical effort to form them.

"I. Can't. Alright? Just let it go" he said as his eyes continued to beg otherwise.

Your next words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them, might have missed them if his entire being wasn't fine tuned to hear the exact phrase.

"Kiss me" you said, somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He caught your eye and his breath caught in his throat at the way you were looking at him: your eyes wide, soft and focused on him, your chest visibly rising and falling underneath him, your body pressing against him as you wiggled your hand out of his grasp to trace his cheek. Surely he couldn't have heard you right?

"I'm not—I can't— that's not a good idea. I can't just kiss you" he said, stumbling over his words uncharacteristically.

"Why?" you asked quietly, sadly.

"No—not—fuck—" he started and stopped, trying not to upset you again.

He paused, trying to collect himself.

"Why do you think no other girl has slept in this bed?" he said seriously.

You pulled your hand back at the mention of other girls at a moment like this, but he responded by reaching to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him.

You were shaking your head.

"Because if I couldn't have you, then I didn't want anyone else. You're fucking it for me, always have been, but girls like you don't end up with guys like me and it's best I don't waste your fucking time and ruin our friendship in the process, alright?" he said resolutely, with finality.

"Matty—" you started

"—Please stop calling me that, please" he said, slamming his eyes closed, "I'm trying to maintain a semblance of self control here."

"Stop holding back!" you whisper-yelled, which caught his attention, causing his eyes to flutter open. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want you. I've always wanted you, ask any of our thickheaded friends, they've all known for a long time."

He blinked slowly like each individual word had to register in his head. You could see him swallow, could see the sentence process in his brain as the pad of his thumb traced your cheek and you leaned into him, pressing further against him.

"Kiss me, Matty" you said.

And the last thread of his self control snapped. He leaned in, hovering close enough that you could feel the faintest touch of his lips as they ghosted against yours, teasing you.

"If I kiss you, that's it then, you're mine" he said, like it was a threat, an ultimatum, and not the best thing that's ever happened to you.

A smile spread across your lips and you nodded against his.

"All yours" you whispered back and he caught the last of your words with his mouth, his lips taking yours as both of his hands came to grasp your face firmly but gently, pulling you into him.

You could barely suppress the hum of pleasure that left you at the sensation, the relief of the feeling of his lips pillowed against yours, the tenderness and softness so opposite of everything that he was, the duality of it all had your body tingling. One of your hands grasped at his sweatshirt while the other wound around his neck, attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you as he moaned into your mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and you swore there wasn't anything in the world but this moment, this feeling with him as you tasted the lingering flavor of cigarettes and peppermint that you would come to associate with him.

It was all grabbing, desperate hands and crashed lips at first, trying in moments to catch up on years of wanting, until it was tantalizingly slow, languid, purely achingly perfect and intimate. You were certain you would kiss him like this every single day, given the chance.

It could have been minutes or hours that you were lost in each other before he pulled back, and the whine that left your lips at the loss of contact nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and marching you to the first broom closet he could find.

"I've spent just about every day for the last 5 years thinking about this, and I cannot believe I'm about to fuckin' say this, but I'm not gonna rush it. At the very least, I'm not gonna hook up with you in a room full of people" he said, before tilting his head, "Well, at least not the first time... after that, no promises."

You laughed quietly and swatted at his shoulder.

"C'mere" he said, pulling you into him.

You curled into his arms, head nuzzling into his neck, your head resting on his chest as he held you tightly, brushing soft kisses to your temple as you fell asleep.

E P I L O G U E

You had been so caught up in the events of the evening, you hadn't really stopped to consider what happens next, namely, how would you tell your friends? Just make an announcement at breakfast? Put on enough PDA that they drew their own conclusion? Take off the scarf you were wearing that was covering the innumerable hickies on your neck? Your mind was in a heady fog about it all as the group of you wandered towards the Great Hall.

You were glued to Mattheo's side, but that wasn't really unusual; his fingers brushed against your own as he shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face.

"YN!" a voice shouted behind you.

You turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging towards you and you slowed your pace, as did everyone around you. Boys had to be either brave, stupid or naive to approach you when you were with your guy friends, and you weren't sure which category to put Cedric in as his eyes met their unwelcome stares but addressed you anyway.

"Sorry— yeah, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to—" he started.

Oh no you thought.

"—Cedric, really, that's so kind—" you interrupted, trying to prevent a scene from breaking out as you felt Mattheo tense beside you.

"—You didn't even hear what I was going to say?" he said with a laugh, somewhere between offended, annoyed and amused.

"Well, think that makes the message pretty clear then, mate" Mattheo said, the anger palpable in his tone.

"Excuse me?" Cedric replied. "I was talking to—"

Oh no you thought again.

And you weren't quick enough to intervene before Mattheo had Cedric pinned against the stone wall of the hallway, his forearm at Cedric's chest, nearly lifting him off the ground as his feet dangled for purchase.

"I don't fucking care who you were talking to. From now on, you don't talk to her at all, alright?"

"What are you, her bodyguard?" Cedric sputtered as he gasped for breath.

"No" ... a pause... "I'm her boyfriend" Mattheo growled.

You tried and failed to hide the huge smile on your face behind your manicured fingers as your friends shouted behind you.

Well, that's one way to do it you thought. ♡

[synicaljah]

Fine Italian Dining

Author’s Note: Exchange student!Theo AU, inspired by the “taking my Italian husband to Olive Garden” trend because it’s so aggressively Theo coded

Warnings: None

Word Count: 415

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, confused. “You have no clue what an Olive Garden is?”

“I’ve been in America for less than 3 months,” Theo replies, flatly. “I don’t understand your surprise at my lack of American knowledge. Please share- what on earth is an Olive Garden?”

“Well,” you smile, “it’s my favorite Italian restaurant.”

You notice Theo’s eyes brighten instantly at your reply. “Ah, grazie al cielo, is this finally something edible? After taking me to McDonalds and Taco Bell, I’m having… difficulty trusting American food, if you’ll believe it.”

“Well,” you smirk, “it’s a good thing it’s Italian food! We’ll go tonight- don’t you worry.”

“Alright, dolcezza, you have me nervous… but I’ll comply. Meet you at 7.”

“See you at 7, Theo”

————————————————————————

“Dolcezza,” Theo grumbled as he stared at the fettuccini Alfredo sat in front of you, “ma che cazzo è?”

“Fettuccini! Duh. Thought you’d recognize it, Italian expert.” You smiled, knowing full well Theo was thinking a string of profanities, likely directed at you.

“No, tesoro, that is not fettuccini, and this is not Italian. Italian indicates that there’s substance to the food. This may be worse than Taco Bell.”

“Woah, slow your roll there, Nott,” you bite. “This is nowhere NEAR Taco Bell. You take that back right now.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Theo grinned, “that would be offensive to Taco Bell.” You sigh. “Amore, let me show you ACTUAL Italian cooking, and then you’ll understand. I could never live with myself letting you think this is the best Italian food out there.”

“Fine,” you disappointedly concede, although, of course, the idea of Theo oh-so-domestically making you pasta, even if just to prove a point, was admittedly appealing. “I’ll agree. If…”

Theo sighs. “If what?”

“If you wear one of those ‘kiss the cook’ grill dad aprons. That’s the only way I’ll agree.”

“Dolcezza, you may not know it, but I’m doing YOU a favor. You could not catch me dead in a kiss the cook apron.”

And so, of course, an hour later, you found yourself in your dorm, Theo wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron and you watching from the side while he narrated his steps like a show off food network, ensuring you knew just how carefully he was taking care of your ‘authentic Italian meal’ before setting a plate of (impressive looking) gnocchi in front of you.

“There you go, tesoro. Italian cooking. Now you NEVER have to take me to Olive Garden again.”

[synicaljah]

ILVERMORNY GIRL ꒰ t.n. ꒱

ㅤ────── ❝ never mentioned a boyfriend. ❞

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation. ( 10k+ words. )

AUTHOR’S NOTE: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. turning this into a series, so yes! you will be left on a little cliffhanger!

WARNINGS: contains themes of abusive relationships, sexual content, foul language, mention of character death, manipulation, cheating, and characters making poor decisions.

SUMMARY: a week long stay at ilvermorny sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? the castle is breathtaking: grand halls, towering spires, and enchanted corridors. but as it turns out, the architecture won’t be the only thing capturing theodore’s gaze with such admiration.

MCHT.

mcht. mcht. mcht: the soft, wet sound of lips meeting and parting echoed in the air with an almost hypnotic noise. the pressure of parted mouths gently pressing and then releasing in a fluid dance.

the room bathed in a deep purple light that made everything feel dreamlike and surreal, as if it were pressing against your skin, sending a subtle pulse to your temple. shadows cast against the walls swayed with each movement, the warmth of breath mingled, blending with the quiet rustle of clothing.

theodore couldn't fathom how he ended up here, nor did he care to remember when. his mind was too preoccupied with the girl straddling his lap, humping his thigh like a bitch in heat. he had never been this hard, or turned on in his life.

“you got a condom?”

theodore barely registered the speed at which the words left his mouth. they tumbled out in a rushed breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. maybe he was speaking too fast - maybe he wasn’t - maybe it didn’t fucking matter. his father had been riding his ass about this insufferable party for weeks, insisting that it was a necessary event, an opportunity that theodore simply could not afford to miss.

it was halfway across the damn world, and the only reason he’d agreed to come was to shut the old man up. but now that he was here, drowning in a sea of pretentious laughter and clinking champagne flutes, it hadn’t taken long for his attention to be stolen by something far more interesting.

a distraction. a bit of entertainment. and, hell, why not indulge himself? if nothing else, it was the perfect way to spit in his father’s face; an act of defiance wrapped up in pleasure.

and merlin help him, there was no stopping it now. the air between them was filled with something so so so electric, and when her response came, it sent a sharp jolt through him.

“no condom.” no condom? what?

the words rang in his ears, echoing louder than the music in the background. no condom? what the hell did that even mean? his brain scrambled to keep up, teetering between confusion and the overwhelming heat pooling low in his stomach. he parted his lips to ask, to clarify - but she beat him to it.

“i’ll just take the pill tomorrow.” the pill?

the sheer implication of it - of feeling her bare, nothing between them, no barriers, no interruptions - hit him so fucking hard he nearly lost himself right then and there. his fingers twitched at his sides, need clawing at him that made it almost impossible to think straight.

he should have said something. he should have asked are you sure? or maybe even considered the rationality of it. but shit — all he could do was swallow hard, pulse hammering in his throat, as his restraint threatened to snap entirely.

theodore never imagined a one night stand could sear itself into his memory so vividly. despite his initial assumption that he'd forget it all by dawn, the encounter haunted his thoughts. days turned into weeks, weeks into months. even when theodore returned to hogwarts, he wasted no time recounting the night to his friends, every detail still burning fresh in his mind.

no matter how many days passed, his thoughts never strayed far from her. he could still feel her touch, hear her soft little breathless moans, the way her body had fit so perfectly against his, as if she had been made to be in his arms. and salazar, she had been beautiful. the kind of beauty that stayed, that settled deep in his bones and refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

theodore thought about her so often that he started seeking out others just to chase her touch. but it was never the same - never her.

no matter how many hands traced his skin or how many lips pressed against his, none of them ignited that fire, that raw, breath stealing power she had. and afterward, when it was over, he would just find himself staring at the nearest wall, mind tangled in the same question: how the hell did he get so hung up on a girl he’d never see again?

he had never been the type to believe in destiny, never bought into the whole everything happens for a reason bullshit. that wasn’t how life worked - at least, not for him. yet, for the first time, he found himself wondering if maybe - just maybe - he had been wrong.

ILVERMORNY SCHOOL OF witchcraft and wizardry stood proudly atop mount greylock, its grand stone structure blending seamlessly with the wilderness surrounding it. unlike the towering, medieval spires of hogwarts, ilvermorny had a sort of elegance - all smooth gray stone walls with enchanted ivy that shifted colors with the seasons. wide terraces and arched windows overlooking the garden, forests stretching far beyond the mountain’s edge, rivers carved through valleys and mist clung to the treetops.

golden sun painted streaks of amber across the sky as the hogwarts seventh years disembarked from the enchanted portkey onto ilvermorny’s grounds. the air smelled different here: crisp laced with pine. a huge difference from the damp, mossy aroma of the scottish highlands. the week long exchange program was meant to give students the chance to experience life at other wizarding schools, possibly transferring for their eighth and final year if they felt a stronger connection elsewhere.

at the main entrance, massive carved doors bore the symbols of the four houses: thunderbird, wampus, horned serpent, and pukwudgie - each shimmering faintly as if alive with magic.

the castle’s peaked rooflines and grand columns gave it the appearance of an old, enchanted manor, standing timeless. encircled by pines and hidden paths leading to who knows where, ilvermorny felt less like a fortress and more like a secret - one kept by the mountain itself.

the kind of beauty you’d want to keep to yourself, too precious to share with anyone else. theodore was no stranger to that kind of beauty - it almost rivaled with the girl from that one night at the ball halfway across the world. almost.

dumbledore stood before them, robes billowing slightly in the cool wind, moon glasses perched at the end of his nose. “now,” the old man began, voice smooth like butter. “before we officially begin our week long stay at ilvermorny, i would like to establish a few rules.”

a collective groan — mostly from the slytherins. “as guests, you will be expected to conduct yourselves with the utmost decorum,” he continued. “this includes respecting ilvermorny’s customs, following their curfew, and refraining from any behavior that may cause unnecessary…” he paused, as if carefully selecting his next words. “… incidents.”

dumbledore exhaled slowly through his thin nose. “which is precisely why i feel the need to emphasize these rules before the headmaster arrives -“

“ - there will be no sneaking out past curfew,” he continued, eyes flicking directly to mattheo, who looked entirely unbothered. “no unauthorized use of magic outside of class,” - a glance at blaise, who merely arched a brow - “and absolutely no unsanctioned broom races across the ilvermorny grounds.”

draco cleared his throat loudly, pointedly averting his gaze. “i’d like to assume you’re all mature enough to use protection when necessary - pun very much intended.” a stunned silence followed.

several students exchanged side glances, brows raised, as if silently questioning whether they had actually just heard that. “furthermore,” dumbledore went on, shifting his gaze, “i trust there will be no incidents involving the local wildlife.”

as if choreographed, the entire group turned in perfect unison toward berkshire. enzo, refusing to meet their stares, suddenly found the rock at his feet to be the most fascinating thing in the world.

“albus dumbledore!” agilbert fontaine, a man with a full beard streaked with silver, strode toward the group of hogwarts seventh years. his presence alone was enough to demand respect, but his tone carried a warmth that made it clear he was pleased to see them. “how excited and utterly honored we are to have you join us.”

beside him walked a girl who looked to be around their age. she had large brown eyes that darted between them, her expression caught somewhere between curiosity and discomfort. a tight lipped, awkward smile tugged at her lips, her thin, straight brows slightly furrowed as if unsure how to carry herself in the moment.

to fontaine’s left was you, also appearing to be in their year. a pair of small metallic balls gleamed on your eyebrow. your smile was small, barely there - just the faintest curve at the corner of your lips, almost forced, as if it had been placed there out of habit rather than genuine feeling. beside you, a boy with dark, spiky hair had an arm draped lazily around your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of your hair.

you, however, barely seemed to notice - gaze fixed straight ahead, unfocused, as though you were somewhere else entirely.

rather than being in house colors, the ilvermorny uniform features blue robes fastened at the front with a gold gordian knot clasp, beneath the robes, a tailored cranberry colored blazer, paired with a white shirt and a tie.

“i appreciate you for having us,” dumbledore said. fontaine clasped the hogwarts headmaster in a firm embrace, their chuckles rich. the two wizards stood momentarily lost in their shared history, the students behind them shifted awkwardly, exchanging uncertain glances as they waited for further instruction.

“i’d assume albus has already gone over the rules,” fontaine mused, pulling away to meet dumbledore’s knowing gaze. with a simple nod of confirmation from dumbledore, fontaine turned his attention to the three students before him, eyes sweeping over them with pride.

“these are my best,” he declared, gesturing to the ilvermorny studnets standing nearby. “we’ll be splitting you all into groups since managing every single one of you at once would be impossible.”

he wasn’t exaggerating. the number of seventh years was startling - nearly two hundred, maybe more, their figures casting long shadows. some stood tall with curiosity, others with thinly veiled exhaustion from the journey, while a few barely concealed their irritation.

“this is novalie,” fontaine continued, resting a firm hand on the shoulder of a dark haired girl who shifted slightly under the weight of so many eyes. “ravenclaw and hufflepuff, follow her.” novalie gave a small, almost hesitant wave as students began peeling away from the group, forming an orderly line in front of her.

blaise caught draco’s eye, smirking as he tilted his head toward novalie in silent amusement. mattheo and pansy exchanged a knowing glance; they had seen that look before. blaise zabini had already marked his next target. the way his dark eyes flicked over novalie, considering, was enough to confirm it.

enzo rolled his eyes, already prepared to make a joke about blaise and his horrible flirting skills, but the words died in his throat when he turned and realized theodore wasn’t paying attention. at all.

instead, theodore’s gaze was locked on someone. his posture had stiffened, lips parted ever so slightly, brows knit together as if his mind was struggling to catch up with what his eyes were telling him.

“mate?” lorenzo gave him two rough pats on the back, snapping him out of his trance.

theodore blinked rapidly, swallowing hard before muttering, “do you remember the girl i fucked in a purp-“ “- the only thing you ever talk about?” pansy cut in, arms crossed, letting out a dramatic huff. “yeah, everyone fucking knows.” theodore barely registered her interruption. his pulse pounded in his ears, and his stomach twisted as he tried to process the impossibility standing before him.

“yeah, well, she’s right th -“

before he could finish, fontaine’s voice cut through the air. “gryffindor, go with -” when fontaine said your name; theodore barely breathed as he watched you step forward, a familiar face in an entirely unfamiliar place. it was you. he fucking knew it. the girl from across the world. the one who had occupied his thoughts for longer than he cared to admit.

“ - slytherin, go with archer cassius.” but then, the final blow - the bloke beside you slipped an arm around your waist effortlessly, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, casually, like it was something he’d done a thousand times before.

archer cassius. even his name sounded so fucking stupid. theodore had to physically stop himself from reacting, from demanding to know who the fuck that was and what gave him the right.

he didn’t know - nor did he care - how he looked staring at the two of you, his eyes blinking rapidly as if that would somehow change what he was seeing. maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. maybe this wasn’t real. but it was. and though you had never promised him anything, though he never once let himself believe he’d see you again, that didn’t stop the sharp sting in his chest.

slytherins began moving toward archer, but theodore’s feet felt rooted to the ground, his attention locked on you as you began walking away, gryffindors trailing behind you.

if the blue robes weren’t covering your arms, he knew the tattoos beneath would be there - etched into your skin like a masterpiece. he had traced them with his tongue, memorizing every curve and line, convinced they looked nothing short of divine on you.

“coming?” pansy asked as the slytherins had already begun moving out of sight.

theodore exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes before reluctantly falling in step behind archer - though he made a point to linger at the very back of the line, ensuring that that motherfucker stayed well out of arm’s reach.

archer was leading them to their sleeping quarters first, then giving a tour of the key areas before they’d all be free to roam as they pleased. but theodore already knew exactly where he’d be going the moment they were dismissed.

—

you could feel a pair of eyes on you, a gaze that made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it wasn’t until the group paused near one of the towering stained glass windows that you caught sight of him.

he stood off to the side, hands buried deep in the pockets of his robes, nonchalance - except for his eyes, locked onto you. you had assumed he was just another gryffindor tagging along, but something about the way he moved, separate from the others, made you second guess.

“can i help you?” you asked, turning toward him. he took a slow step closer, tilting his head slightly. “i was wondering about something.”

here we go.

you raised a brow. “and what’s that?”

“archer cassius,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something else. “the boyfriend? assuming of course…” you stiffened slightly at the name, then exhaled through your nose. “yeah. he is.”

theodore let out a breath of laughter, though there was no humor in it. “huh.” he rocked back on his heels. “interesting.”

if there was one thing you hated most, it was when someone clearly had something on their mind, and instead of addressing it right away, they danced around it - almost like teasing, daring you to get them to spill. it infuriated the fuck out of you. “why do you care?”

he met your gaze. you hated how ridiculously handsome he looked, too. it’s seven in the morning why does he have to look so irresistible? “just trying to make sense of something.”

you sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “and what exactly are you trying to make sense of, theodore?”

his lips quirked, he’d be lying to himself if hearing his name on your lips didn’t bring back a memory of you screaming it just a few months ago. “back in that purple room, when we -“ he gestured between the two of you, “ - you weren’t together?”

you swallowed nervously, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. “we were on a break.”

we were on a break. the words hung between you both.

theodore’s jaw ticked. “right. a break.” he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “and i suppose that meant it was meaningless, yeah?”

you opened your mouth, hesitating. “it shouldn’t have meant anything.” it shouldn’t have meant anything. it really shouldn’t have. but can’t you see how hard he tried to convince himself of that? yet, the way you felt against him, the way you didn’t just care about your own pleasure but his too - he was doomed from the moment he craved a second round. then a third. then taking you against a random shower wall for a fourth.

a humorless smirk pulled at his lips. “right. shouldn’t have.” he took another step forward, closer now. “and still, you look like you don’t believe that any more than i do.”

you clenched your jaw. “what do you want me to say, theo?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe the truth?”

you exhaled sharply, frustrated. “the truth is; it happened. months ago. a mistake. lets move on.”

“a mistake,” he repeated, voice low. he let the words settle before chuckling, shaking his head. “funny. it didn’t feel like one at the time.” you almost wanted to punch him for making you remember - the embarrassingly high pitched breathless moans that had even caught you off guard.

you remembered that day vividly: something had happened between you and archer a few nights beforehand, and you were still feeling so messed up from it, desperate for a distraction. that’s why you went to the party with your brother and his girlfriend. but when you couldn’t find them, you wandered, keeping your distance from the old, creepy men lingering around.

that’s when you saw theodore. everyone knew he was handsome - it was undeniable. your cousins had warned you about him, saying he was one of the biggest players at hogwarts, right alongside his group of friends. maybe that’s what made the decision easier. it would happen once, something quick, and you’d leave.

but then, the conversation started flowing. he kept inching closer, his breath smelled nice, and before you knew it, a few minutes of small talk had turned into sneaking off together. the two of you slipped into a random room, the glow of purple light casting soft shadows over scattered confetti on the floor.

there was something about the way he spoke, his accent pulling you in, making you lean just a little closer each time he said something. you had asked him about hogwarts, but the moment he started to answer, you remember cutting him off - “shut up,” you had said, before pressing your lips to his.

you glanced away, heart hammering against your ribs. this was not a conversation you wanted to have - not here, not at all. but before you could find the words to end it:

“everything okay here?”

you turned sharply to find archer standing a few feet away, brows drawn together as he looked between you and theodore.

you forced a smile. “yeah, we’re fine.”

theodore, however, had a different response. he slid his hands back into his pockets, tilting his head slightly as he regarded archer. “yeah, mate,” he said, voice knife sharp. “we’re just clearing up some... old misunderstandings.”

just to fuck around, theodore poked the side of your cheek, hoping to get a reaction. he was successful as you quickly swatted his hand away, stepping back a few steps.

archer’s gaze darkened slightly. “yeah?”

theodore smirked. “mm.”

you could feel both of their stares on you, but you refused to let it alarm you. you straightened your shoulders and turned to archer. “i was just about to finish showing them around.” the two of you had argued less than twenty four hours ago - the last thing you wanted was for archer to be angry again. or worse…

archer studied you for a second longer before nodding. “right. let me know if you need anything.” he shot theodore one last glance before stepping back to join the others.

theodore watched him go, then turned his gaze back to you. “must be nice,” he murmured, voice just low enough for you to hear. “having something so... steady.”

“bye, theo.” you reply, refusing to rise to the bait.

since theodore loved nothing more than getting under your skin, he smirked and said, “bye, babe.” you let out an annoyed sound, turning back just long enough to make sure he caught the roll of your eyes before walking away. even with your back to him, his gaze lingered on you, burning into your skin until you finally disappeared around the corner.

he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. it was clear you’d started avoiding him after your little boyfriend had come over.

he had told his friends everything that had happened, recounting the events from months ago between you two, going over the details once more. his friends made disapproving noises, having heard the story countless times before. then he told them about your earlier encounter, how he hadn’t known you had a boyfriend, or that you were supposedly ‘on a break,’ while the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. and, of course, how your boy toy came running in, thinking he was your knight in shining armor.

that night, theodore went to bed, thoughts of you swirling in his mind so much that you even appeared in his dream. for a second, there you were, and just as he was about to speak to you, he woke up with a sigh, frustrated that he couldn’t even talk to you in the damn dream.

ON ONE SIDE, the seventh year hogwarts students stood in their school robes, glancing around curiously as they prepared for their first ever game of ‘capture the flag.’ opposite them, the ilvermorny seventh years stood tall and confident. at the center of it all stood fontaine, his dark blue robes shifting like waves with each movement. a knowing smile played on his lips as he addressed the assembled students.

“alright, listen up, everyone!” he called out. “we’re here to play a game that requires strategy, agility, and a bit of cunning - capture the flag. but, of course, you’ll be playing it a bit differently than you’re used to, so pay close attention.”

the hogwarts students exchanged curious glances, while the ilvermorny students smirked. across the wide stretch of grass, theodore’s gaze lingered on you. your boyfriend stood at your side, and the moment your eyes met theodore’s, he quickly looked away - as if he hadn’t been watching the two of you this whole time. ever since dumbledore and fontaine had gathered the seventh years outside for what they called a ‘small activity,’ his attention had been anything but subtle.

“here’s how it works,” fontaine continued, pacing in front of the eager crowd. “you all have a color tied to your waist - two colors, to be specific. each team will have two colors. your goal is to snatch the colors from the opposing team’s waist and hold onto them. if both colors are taken from your waist, you’re out. that means no more running around or playing - just sit out and cheer your team on.”

“sounds easy enough, yeah?” mattheo muttered to his friends, a smirk tugging at his lips. “should i take out your girl first, nott? maybe play a little dirty?” blaise chuckled, theodore simply rolled his eyes.

“if she doesn’t get you first,” he shot back before glancing in your direction. “fucking sneaky.”

“you’ll need to be quick on your feet,” fontaine continued, “because the team with the most colors at the end of the match wins. and don’t get too cocky - defense is just as important as offense. keep your eyes on your own colors, and don’t let the other team outsmart you.”

the students shifted in excitement as fontaine clapped his hands once, signaling for everyone to line up.

“any questions?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

one brave seventh year from hogwarts raised her hand. “what if someone grabs our color but doesn’t get both of them? do we still get a chance to defend?”

fontaine smiled widely, clearly pleased with the question. “very good. if someone grabs one of your colors, you’ve got a chance to tag them before they make it back to their side. you’ll need to make sure your teammates are there to back you up.”

some of the ilvermorny students chuckled, clearly ready to defend their colors. they all tied their colors securely around their waists, and the hogwarts team did the same.

“alright then,” fontaine said with a grin, stepping aside to allow dumbledore to say a few words.

dumbledore’s voice was stern. “remember, the point is not to fight, but to work together. winning isn’t as important as how you play the game. have fun, respect each other, and be safe. magic is not allowed in this game, so you’ll be relying on your legs.”

with a final nod, dumbledore stepped back, and fontaine clapped his hands again. “alright, teams! get into position, and may the best team win.”

“three… two… one -”

the moment the game started, it was absolute chaos. students lunged at each other, dodging, intertwining, and snatching at the strips of cloth fluttering from their opponents’ waists. shouts and shrieks echoed through the field, feet thundering against the ground.

you were fast, effortlessly ducking past grasping hands and slipping through gaps in the swarm of bodies. a smile tugged at your lips as you evaded yet another hogwarts student, their frustrated groan only fueling your determination.

you parted ways with archer, swiftly snatching a red cloth from a hogwarts boy as you twisted through the chaos. keeping a firm grip on your own blue cloth, you stayed alert, sidestepping anytime someone got too close or looked ready to make a move.

“gotcha - !” mattheo riddle’s voice shouted out behind you, and before you could react, he lunged. but just as his fingers nearly closed around the blue cloth at your waist, he was shoved aside - hard. he was nearly there, so fucking close, fingers barley grazing the fabric. “the fuck, nott?” mattheo staggered, catching himself just in time before face planting into the grass.

theodore stood between you and him, expression substandard as he barely spared mattheo a glance. “try someone else.”

before you could snap at theodore for interfering, lorenzo attempted to take advantage of the distraction and reached for your cloth. you were too focused on proving to theo that you could handle yourself, completely unaware of enzo creeping up behind you - but theo wasn’t, without hesitation, theodore pushed him away too.

“ -hmph. for fuck’s sake, nott -“ lorenzo huffed, glaring up at him, rolling onto his back, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun - too damn bright for anyone’s liking.

“i don’t need protecting.” and to prove your point, your hand shot out in a blur, snatching a red strip from theodore’s waist before he could react.

his blue eyes widened slightly as you took off, sprinting through the chaos with his color in your grasp. “oh, you fucking -“

you knew the rules. since you had taken his color, theodore was now allowed to chase you down to retrieve it. and of course, he would take full advantage of that. his long strides closed the distance between you with ease - he could catch up in seconds, take you down, pin you beneath him, and snatch your colors, securing your loss. but this little game between you two? whether he’d admit it or not, he loved it.

you threw a smug glance over your shoulder. “what’s wrong, nott? losing?”

theodore scowled. “annoying you are.”

before you could retort, a hogwarts student purposely stuck out their foot, sending you stumbling forward. you barely caught yourself, but the distraction was enough - the hogwarts student started to smile as you began to get up, but before they could react any further, theodore swiftly grabbed the red cloth from the student who had tripped you.

with a proud smile, he made sure to take the other cloth as well. “you’re out,” he said, his voice leaking with satisfaction.

“you do know we’re on the same team, right?” the student replied, arms crossing in annoyance.

theo ignored the protest, stepping toward you instead. he extended his hand, holding the red cloths out toward you. from where you lay on the ground, the sun blinding you, all you could make out was his shape and the outstretched hand, the cloths dangling from his fingers. “take them.”

you frowned. “what are you doing?” he was handing you his team colors as a way to initiate a conversation.

“we need to talk.”

“now’s really not the -“

a sudden force slammed into theodore from the side. he lurched, nearly losing his footing, but quickly recovered. it was archer. he was really starting to piss theodore off. he couldn’t even talk to you without your damn boyfriend causing a scene.

theodore’s jaw clenched as he steadied himself, his hand instinctively curling into a fist. “are you serious?” archer scoffed. “stay the fuck away from her.”

theodore shoved him back without hesitation, his patience snapping. “how about you stay the fuck out of things that don’t concern you?”

“she does concern me! everything she does concerns me - involves me!” archer snapped.

oh, theodore was about to sink to an all time low. he barely held back a chuckle as he replied. "yeah? when i was pushing my dick inside her four times, you weren't around to worry about it, were you?" and just like that, the two lunged at each other, hands grasping at the colored strips while simultaneously trying to take the other down. the shouts around them grew louder as students scrambled out of the way, watching the scene unfold with horror.

novalie rushed forward, proudly displaying blaise’s and several other hogwarts students’ colors tied around her waist. you and novalie exchanged glances before, with a swift movement, you each grabbed the cloths from theodore and archer’s waists.

“they’re out,” novalie announced, holding up her prize. but neither boy stopped. they continued grappling, fists tightening in each other’s shirts, completely ignoring the fact that they had technically lost.

a wave of magic swept through the field, and an unseen force yanked them apart. dumbledore’s magic.

theodore and archer stumbled but quickly regained their footing, now standing nose to nose, their breathing heavy as they glared daggers at each other.“enough!” fontaine voice rang out, silencing the entire field. “both of you, my office. now.”

archer and theodore were still practically chest to chest, fists clenched, but neither argued with the headmaster. they simply turned on their heels and trudged toward the castle, following fontaine.

—

two days.

two days had passed since the chaos of capture the flag, and theodore hadn’t heard a damn thing from you. not a word. not a glance. nothing. not that he was looking for you either.

and yet, the thought of you - your voice, your fucking smirk, the way you had snatched his colors right off his waist - still rattled in his mind, completely uninvited. it pissed him off. you pissed him off. archer pissed him off. everything about this situation was so goddamn frustrating, and what was fucking worse? you still had him wrapped around your fucking finger, whether you realized it or not.

he had tried to shove it aside, distract himself, even as his friends spent the past two days talking about the upcoming ilvermorny party.

everyone was going. hogwarts and ilvermorny students alike had been raving about it - how wild it was supposed to be, how it was the place to be tonight.

theodore didn’t go.

he remained in bed while his friends hurried around, getting dressed and ready for the night. they pleaded with him over and over, insisting that a party wasn’t complete without nott, but he couldn’t bring himself to go. the thought of being surrounded by so many people was exhausting - especially when, thanks to the shared dorms, he barely had any time to himself. so, when his friends finally left, he embraced the quiet.

or at least, he tried to.

the silence left too much room for his thoughts to wander — to you. what you were doing right now. whether you’d gone to the party. whether you were in archer’s room, making his night unforgettable. the second that thought crossed his mind, he groaned and shoved his face into his pillow, thumping his head against it in frustration.

clearly, lying in bed and overthinking wasn’t working.

instead, he wandered the castle alone, his footsteps echoing softly through the corridors. the distant sound of laughter and music from the party filtered in through the open windows, but he ignored it. he wasn’t in the mood for noise, for drinking, for pretending he gave a shit about anything other than the storm inside his own head.

but then, he saw you. it was strange - he had just been thinking about you, and suddenly, there you were.

he hadn’t seen you in two days, but he could always recognize you, even from behind. the little tattoos scattered across your arms - the ones he adored on you. your hair fell to the middle of your back, and you usually carried yourself with perfect posture. but now, you were hunched over, your head in your hands. as theodore stepped closer, he noticed the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders, the faint sound of sniffles reaching his ears.

you were alone, standing near the entrance to an empty hallway, body slightly hunched as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. something felt… off. even through the half lit corridors, he could see the way your hands trembled, the way your posture screamed hesitation.

“you’re missing your big party,” he said, his voice calm. you flinched at the sound of his voice, but you didn’t turn to face him.

he took a step forward, trying to move into your line of sight so he could see your face. but the moment he moved, so did you, turning away just enough to keep yourself hidden from him.

he frowned. “what, too drunk to look at me?”

silence.

you stayed silent, and so did he. he watched you closely, searching for any sign that you were okay. when he stepped forward again, trying once more to see your face, you flinched and pulled away, still refusing to let him see you.

his stomach twisted. he stepped closer. “let me see your face.”

you shook your head instantly, stepping back. “no.” your voice was so thick - like you’d been holding back tears for a while now. “just leave me alone, theo.”

your voice carried the poundage of a forming lump, the kind that comes just before you completely break down. you never sounded like that - your tone was always sharp, laced with sarcasm, never… shaky. your words were slurred - theodore could smell the alcohol on your breath from a mile away. he clenched his jaw. “not happening. let me see.”

“no.”

his patience snapped.

before you could retreat further, he reached out, his hands catching your wrists. you struggled weakly, but you were too drunk, too sluggish, and in one swift motion, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

and that’s when he saw it. a deep, ugly purple bruise spread across your cheekbone, darkened by the light but unmistakable. his fingers twitched against your skin as his breath hitched.

his grip tightened. “who the fuck did this?” it looked awful - probably even worse than it felt. the deep purple stood out harshly against your skin, made even more noticeable by the tears rolling down your face. but more than anything, it made you feel ugly. it made you feel marked.

you jerked away from him, your balance wavering as you wiped at your eyes with shaking hands. “just drop it, theodore.” you tried to make it sound like a demand, but it came out more like a plea. “this is your fucking fault for telling him… telling him -“ your voice broke, the words tangled in hiccups, sobs, and drunken slurs. you couldn’t even get them out. “just drop it. please.”

he wasn’t dropping shit. his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, his mind already putting the pieces together. drunk, voice slurring, didn’t want to go back to archer.

you hadn’t spoken to theodore in two days - hadn’t even let him get a word in. but that didn’t stop the rage simmering just beneath his skin.“the fuck do you mean drop it?” his voice was so fucking dangerous. “he did this? huh?”

you squeezed your eyes shut, letting more tears slip down your cheeks and into theodore’s palm, which was still gently cradling your face.

that was all the confirmation he needed.

he exhaled harshly through his nose, hands clenching into fists before he forced himself to relax. right now, you were drunk. you were barely standing. he had to deal with you first - he could deal with archer later.

“you can’t go back there,” he said finally.

you scoffed, wobbling slightly. “oh, and what? stay with you?”

“yeah. that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

you glared at him, but it was sloppy, unfocused. “you’re so fucking bossy.”

“and you’re fucking drunk,” he shot back, moving to steady you as you swayed. he’s sure as hell wasn’t going to press for more details - he’ll settle for getting the truth out of you in the morning.

“i can walk -“ as if on cue, you pushed away from him, acting like you could walk just fine. but you overestimated yourself, immediately stumbling forward. theodore was right behind you, catching your forearm to steady you.

“no, you can’t.”

you huffed in frustration, but before you could argue, theodore crouched slightly and hooked an arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground effortlessly.

“- hmph.” you let out a startled noise, your hands gripping onto his shoulders. “theo - put me down!”

“shut up,” he muttered, adjusting you as you squirmed. “stop moving before i drop your ass.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

he smirked, but there was no amusement behind it. “try me.” you scowled at him but settled down, letting your head lull against his shoulder as he carried you through the halls. you reeked of alcohol, body warm from drinking, but despite the mess you were in, he still held you with ease.

as you stared up at him, your eyes glossy and clouded, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was helping you now. you felt like an ugly mess, with a bruise marring half your face. you’d done everything in your power to push him away, refusing to have the ‘conversation’ he’d been begging for. for what? you had no idea. and though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol speaking or a quick moment of clarity, you found yourself wanting to hear him out.

when he finally reached his assigned dorm, he kicked the door open with his foot and carefully set you down onto the bed.

you groaned, shifting as you buried your face into the pillow. “m’gonna throw up.”

he sighed, walking over to the bathroom connected to the dorm and grabbing the small trashcan before placing it beside the bed. “if you’re going to throw up, do it here.” you made a sound of protest, shaking your head, your face still buried deep in the pillow. “gonna throw up on your bed.”

“you better not. i’m not cleaning up your shit.”

you peeked up at him, eyes bleary. “such a gentleman.”

“sleep.”

he grabbed an extra blanket from enzo’s bed and draped it over you. you immediately snuggled into its warmth. “sleep. we’ll talk in the morning,” he murmured, then grabbed another blanket and pillow from draco’s bed, tossing them onto the floor before settling down.

the room was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of your unsteady breathing filling the space.

then, your voice came out, soft and almost hesitant. “it’s…it’s too cold. just get in the bed, theo.”

he went still.

he hadn’t planned on sleeping. was going to stay awake until his friends got back from the party, so he could tell them to leave and crash in pansy’s dorm instead. but the moment you asked to get in bed, theodore felt a sudden warmth spread up to his ears.

he exhaled, long and slow, before grumbling, “you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” still, he got up. slipping under the covers beside you, he kept his distance, body stiff.

but then, you shifted closer, and before he could react, your head rested lightly against his shoulder.

he felt your hair brush against his skin, your warmth seeping into him almost instantly. he didn’t stop you when your hand slipped over his waist, nor when you draped a leg over his. you lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, right below his beauty mark. “thank you,” you whispered.

he swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. “…get some sleep,” he muttered, voice quieter this time.

you didn’t protest either, your lashes brushing against your eyebrow piercing as you gazed up at his face before finally letting your eyes flutter shut. the alcohol left you feeling everything at once - sleepy, hungry, mad, annoyed, on the verge of tears - and it had drained you completely.

theodore didn’t fall asleep right away. instead, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head, your head resting on his bicep. you looked so at peace without those sharp, beautiful eyes glaring at him - lips slightly parted, soft breaths spilling from them.

your hair was everywhere, strands tickling his neck, but he didn’t mind.

twenty minutes passed before he heard his friends drunkenly fumbling with the dorm door, trying to get inside. theodore had locked it and placed a spell on it, wanting to avoid any questions about why you were fast asleep in his bed.

after three failed attempts, they finally gave up. he heard pansy mumble something about just crashing at her assigned dorm for the night before their footsteps faded away.

THE MORNING LIGHT filtered through the dormitory windows, casting a strip of golden glow over theodore’s chest as he stirred, stretching slightly before reaching toward the space beside him - only to find it empty. his fingers brushed against the cool sheets, the warmth that had been there just hours ago completely gone.

his beautiful eyes snapped open, scanning the room: everything was perfectly in place. the extra blanket he had thrown over you was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, the trash can he had set beside you was gone - assuming to be back in the bathroom, and even his pillow where your head had rested was fluffed, as if untouched.

it was as if last night had never happened.

the soft creak of a door caught his attention. he turned just as you stepped out of the bathroom, your face freshly washed, your expression carefully guarded. relief settled over him, but it didn’t last long, because the first thing he noticed was the deep purple bruise still marring your skin.

“you were just going to leave without saying anything?” his voice was quiet, still recovering from his sleep.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you walked over to the dresser, grabbing your things with slow movements.

“at least tell me where the bruise came from,” theodore pressed, standing up now, his sharp eyes never leaving you. “it doesn’t matter,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“it does to me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “why? so you can play hero? so you can tell me what i already know?”

theodore took a step closer, his patience thinning. “just tell me, what happened?” you swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser. “you already know,” you whispered.

he did. but hearing you admit it made his blood run cold. “archer,” he said.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. “he told me what you said to him during capture the flag and…” your voice faltered, and you turned away slightly. “he said he didn’t care whether it was true or not - just the fact that you even thought that about me must’ve meant something.”

it had. but archer didn’t know that.

theodore’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “he beat the shit out of you for what i said?” his voice was dangerously low now.

you hesitated before nodding again. “it’s not the first time,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. you took a shaky breath. “after archer’s mother died, i was the only one there for him, comforting her and everything. and the first time he… the first time he actually hit me was over something so stupid.” your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. “i got paired up with a boy for a school project, and archer thought i was laughing and smiling too much. which is insane because i just wanted to get the damn thing over with.” you swallowed hard. “but he punched me. and i swear to you, theo, i wanted to leave. i was going to leave. but then he broke down. said his head was a mess after losing his mother, that he was losing everything -“ your voice cracked. “i couldn’t just leave him.”

theodore was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grind. “so he manipulated you.”

you said nothing.

his eyes darkened. “how many times after that?”

again, silence.

theodore stood abruptly from the bed, his entire body taut with barely contained rage. “i asked you a question.” maybe it was wrong to push you like this, but if someone was hurting you, he needed to know. he needed to do something.

you exhaled shakily, staring down at your hands. “every time he gets mad,” you admitted softly. “or… when he’s stressed.”

it was strange - wrong, even - how small your voice had become. you were always sharp tongued with theodore, always snappy and confident, never one to back down from a fight. and yet, sitting here now, you were so quiet. it was so fucking weird.

just like the first time he had seen you walk out of those doors with archer’s arm around you - your body there but your mind somewhere far, far away.

“if i leave him, it’ll be worse.”

you sounded so certain, so resigned, like you had already convinced yourself this was just the way things had to be. “you don’t know that,” he argued, stepping closer. “you don’t have to stay with him.”

“you don’t understand, theo,” you said, finally looking at him. “he will hurt me. worse than this. he’s not just going to let me go.”

god, you had tried to leave. so many times. so many times. even sleeping with theo — letting him mark you up with hickeys you made sure archer would see - that didn’t work. if anything, it only made things worse. he made sure you knew exactly who owned you after that, and it was the worst fucking day of your life.

you were so tired of people telling you to ‘just leave’ like it was that simple. if it were, you would’ve been gone a long time ago. “even novalie tried to help,” you muttered, voice hollow.

“novalie?”

“my best friend.”

“she told the headmaster.” a humorless, bitter laugh escaped you. “but for fuck’s sake, what can you really do when the headmaster is your grandfather?”

fontaine had scoffed at the accusation, his expression cold and dismissive. archer wouldn’t do such a thing. his perfect grandson would never do something like that. and oh, how archer had smirked at you when you reported it - when fontaine barely spared you a glance before saying, ‘report false information again, and you will be expelled. both of you.”

you and novalie had left without a word. because what was there to say? the message was clear — archer was untouchable.

theodore stared at you, heart pounding. he wanted to tell you he wouldn’t let archer hurt you again, that you didn’t have to be afraid - but he could see it in your eyes. the fear. the exhaustion.

the belief that there was no way out.

his jaw tightened. his mind raced. and then, suddenly, his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “fine,” he said, voice calm. “i’ll transfer to ilvermorny and spend every single day fucking his life up.”

“theo -“

“i mean it.” his gaze darkened, his fists still clenched at his sides. “if he thinks he can do this to you and get away with it, he’s dead fucking wrong.”

for a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, your heart pounding as hard as his.

he wasn’t just saying this. he meant it.

you stayed silent, and theodore waited, expecting you to say something, anything. but you didn’t. you simply stared at him for a moment before turning away, opening the door, and slamming it shut behind you.

—

the ilvermorny campus was alive with color and sound, with students hopping from booth to booth at the annual fundraiser event. laughter rang in the air, mixed with the occasional cheer from someone winning a prize or the playful groans of a lost game. banners waved in the waft, enchanted lights twinkled despite it being midday, and the scent of caramel popcorn and cotton candy lingered around every corner.

at the far end of the courtyard stood the cupid booth, easily one of the most talked about attractions. the booth was an oversized, ridiculous pink monstrosity, covered in paper hearts, glittering fairy lights, and a glowing neon sign that read; FIND YOUR PERFECT MATCH! the magic of the booth was its biggest draw - once inside, the space expanded into a cozy, candle lit room, perfect for a blind date experience.

novalie was handling the sign-ups when theodore strolled up, hands in his pockets, looking as if he wasn’t taking the event remotely seriously.

novalie barely spared him a glance. “not a chance, nott. move along.”

theodore was about to ask how she knew his name but quickly remembered - she was your best friend. of course, you’d talked about him. and judging by the way she was silently glaring at him, it hadn’t been in the most flattering light.

with that in mind, theodore smirked. “i haven’t even said anything yet.”

“you want me to set you up with her.”

he shrugged. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple desires.”

novalie rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “yeah? and i desire not to deal with your nonsense.”

theodore leaned on the booth, dropping his voice. “come on, just slot me in.”

when novalie simply shook her head, theodore’s mind worked fast. then it clicked - blaise had mentioned that she’d been giving him ‘the eyes’ all night. or whatever the hell that meant. but despite that, she hadn’t made a move, and blaise, being the prideful idiot he was, refused to make one himself.

a complete pussy, if you asked theodore.

“okay, how about this,” theo said smoothly. “you set me up with her, and in return…” he leaned in conspiratorially. “i’ll put in a good word for you with blaise.”

novalie’s eyes narrowed, but there was interest in them now. “you’re lying.”

“why would i lie about my best friend? us guys aren’t like you girls.” novalie’s head snapped up from the sign up sheet. “watch your mouth.”

theodore tilted his head, unfazed. “come on, nov. blaise likes you, you know. he just needs a little… push t-“ “- don’t call me nov,” she scoffed, but the way she chewed her bottom lip gave her away. considering.

“a good word?”

“the best.”

novalie let out a dramatic sigh. “you are the most annoying person in existence.”

“thank you.”

she glared at him for a few more seconds before snatching a quill and scribbling something on the sign up sheet. “fine. but if you don’t follow through with blaise, i will hex you.” he couldn’t wait to tell blaise about this. about how much novalie actually cared enough to ask for a good word on her behalf.

theodore grinned. “noted.”

novalie found you near the ring toss booth, talking with some classmates and holding a bag of pink cotton candy. archer was nowhere to be seen, which was perfect - no chance of his annoying self barging in. novalie walked up to the group, ignoring the comment from one of the boys you were talking to, who started to say, “looking sexy, nov -“ she grabbed your wrist and yanked you away without a word.

“uh - what the hell?” you protested, stumbling after her. you licked your lips slightly, the sweet blend of cotton candy and your lip gloss lingering on your tongue.

“you, my queen, are going on a blind date.”

you blinked repeatedly. “excuse me?”

novalie gave you an innocent smile. “the cupid booth! it’s for charity! for love! and also, i signed you up.” you knew about the booth your best friend was running - you’d even helped her set up a few things. but that was as far as your involvement went; you’d help her, sure, but actually participating? that was out of the question.

you frowned. “since when?”

“five minutes ago.”

you tried to dig your heels in. “nope.” especially with archer lurking around — he could pop up anywhere at any time. and if he so much as caught you slipping into a blind date booth, you might as well start digging your own grave.

“oh, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“if archer sees -“

“- i’ll distract him -“

“ - and i hate blind dates.”

“but this one is special.”

“why?”

novalie hesitated. “um. because magic? and, uh, fate?” you’d known this girl for most of your life - you could spot her lies a mile away. she’d avoid your eyes, stare at the ground, and blink a little too much, all while keeping that small, devilish smile. you narrowed your eyes at her. “you’re hiding something.”

“no, i’m persuading.” she looped her arm through yours, practically dragging you toward the booth. “besides, it’s already set up, and it would be so rude to cancel last minute.”

“this is so sketchy,” you muttered.

novalie just beamed. “i know.”

you let her drag you along, occasionally glancing around to see if you could spot archer. you hadn’t, at least not since last night, which was strange. archer always woke up extra early, so he’d be the first person you’d see when leaving your dorm. he’d be right there by the horned serpent common room, waiting to walk you to class. at first, you thought it was just a cute safety thing. then you found out he did it to keep track of you at all times, in a way that felt more controlling than caring.

the inside of the cupid booth was nothing short of obnoxious. the moment you stepped through the curtain, the small wooden booth melted away into an entirely different space - one far bigger than it had any right to be.

It looked like valentine’s day and a unicorn had a baby, and then it exploded inside.

the walls were soft pink with gold trimmings, floating candles hovering above, casting a warm glow. a plush loveseat sat in the center, positioned near a tiny table with a tea set and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. delicate roses curled up the corners of the space, enchanted so they occasionally released petals that disappeared before they could touch the floor.

you groaned. “i hate this.”

“you love this,” novalie corrected, pushing you forward.

“i’m going to kill you.”

“you can try! enjoy your date!” she yanked the curtain shut behind you. you watched as the shadow behind the curtain shrank and vanished, just as you muttered the words. “this better not be with some random -“

“wow,” theodore drawled, lounging casually on the loveseat, one arm draped along the backrest. “for someone who hates blind dates, you sure walked into this one easily.”

your stomach dropped. you spun to glare at the curtain. “NOVALIE!”

a muffled giggle was your only response.

theodore smirked. “so, should we start with tea, or do you just want to skip to the part where you fall madly in love with me?”

you didn’t know why he was still trying to reach you. you didn’t understand why he kept making an effort to talk to you when you’d made it clear so many times that you wanted him to just drop it. “why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice cracking, frustration bubbling beneath your words.

theodore’s smile faltered, replaced by that same look that made you want to slap the hell out of him. how could he look so damn handsome and yet so damn sad all the time?

“it’s always ‘why i do things’ with you,” theodore said, shaking his head. “someone shows you kindness, and suddenly you don’t know how to function properly.” theodore had you all figured out: you can whisper the melody, but you can’t make someone listen to the song.

you weren’t listening. your eyes were locked on his hands - more specifically, the bruises all over his knuckles. they looked like they’d been hitting something over and over, a thousand times. “…what happened to your hand?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

theodore hesitated, his jaw tightening. “what? thought i was just going to let that bloke roam free?” the words hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel your heart race as your thoughts spun. “what? why?”

“if his little grandfather asks,” theodore continued, his tone low, “he promised to tell him his dumbass tripped and fell somewhere.”

you stared at him, speechless.

he was still holding your gaze, and then he shrugged. “when your father’s a nott, and your best friend’s a malfoy, anything’s possible.”

your mind was reeling, processing it all; the violence, the anger. archer being hurt. theodore beating the shit out of him. theodore was waiting for you to be angry, but you couldn’t even speak. you just stood there, trying to make sense of the mess between you.

then, without warning, you started walking toward him. 10 INCHES: theodore tensed. the look on your face - he didn’t recognize it. and for that reason alone, he was fully convinced you were about to slap him. 5 INCHES: he braced himself, fingers twitching. maybe he should stop you. maybe he should fight back. but, honestly? he probably deserved it. 2 INCHES: you were close now. close enough to lift your hand, to hit him, to let all your anger spill out. 1 INCHES: but instead of striking him, you closed the distance — and kissed him.

for a split second, theodore froze, completely caught off guard. but then, instinct took over, and he melted into it. your bottom lip slipped between his parted lips with ease, the kiss so desperate, so messy, and filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

each kiss was a thank you. one — thank you. another — thank you. and another. thank you. thank you. thank you.

[synicaljah]

Hi!!! Wondering if you could do a part 2 to the piece you wrote about Theo trying to get you back after breaking up?

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE NEXT EVENING, YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING IN FRONT OF AN UNFAMILIAR RESTAURANT, this time with a nervous flutter in your chest. you agreed to meet up with theodore after your conversation. a decision you might regret or cherish later on. he was waiting for you, looking uncharacteristically anxious. but he moment he saw you, his expression softened, and he offered a small, almost shy smile.

"hi," theo greeted with a gentle voice. "you look beautiful."

"thanks," you replied, your voice a little shaky but genuine. "you look nice too."

the atmosphere between you two was tentative, a mix of old familiarity and new uncertainty. as you walked together to a small, cozy restaurant on the outskirts of the village, theo was respectful, maintaining a careful distance. it was clear he didn’t want to push any boundaries. you appreciated the effort, recognizing it as one of the many ways he was trying to show that he was different now.

dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair. theodore was attentive, asking you about your day, your interests, things you had done since the breakup. he seemed genuinely interested in your answers, listening intently in a way he never had before. the conversation flowed easily, without the sharp edges that used to accompany your interactions in the past if your relationship. it felt . . . nice.

throughout the evening, theo’s actions spoke volumes. he held doors open for you, pulled out your chair, and made sure you were comfortable. when the waiter brought out the dessert, a slice of your favorite cake, theo smiled at your surprised expression.

"i remembered you liked this," he said softly, watching as you took a bite.

the gesture touched you, a small but meaningful sign that he had been paying attention, even when you thought he hadn’t. it was like he was trying to show you that he had been listening all along, just unable to act on it until now.

as the night drew to a close, he walked you back to your home, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over the grounds around you and when you reached the entrance, theo hesitated, turning to face you. his eyes, deep and earnest, searched yours as if seeking permission for what he was about to say.

"i really enjoyed tonight," his voice was laced with sincerity. "thank you for giving me a chance."

you offered him a small smile, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your chest. "i did too," you admitted, surprising even yourself.

he seemed relieved, a soft breath escaping him. "i won’t push you for anything more, i promise. i just . . . i’m grateful you’re giving me the opportunity to prove that i’ve changed."

with that, he said goodnight, his hand lingering for a moment as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he pulled back. you watched him go, thinking of the way he was tonight. theo was a changed man. a better version of himself. and he did all that just for you.

the next morning, you awoke with a feeling of cautious optimism. the date had been better than you had expected, and while you weren’t ready to dive headfirst back into a relationship with him, you were open to seeing where things could go.

as you sat up in bed, your eyes caught something on the nightstand that hadn’t been there the night before. a bouquet of white tulips, their petals fresh and dewy, was arranged neatly in a small vase. a note was tucked among the flowers, and with a curious frown, you reached for it.

unfolding the paper, you recognized theo’s neat handwriting:

White tulips symbolize renewal—something I’m hoping for with us. Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise I won’t waste it.

your heart clenched at the words. the tulips were perfect — elegant, beautiful, and full of meaning. they weren’t extravagant or showy, just like the date had been; simple and sincere, a reflection of the new theo who was trying so hard to be the person you deserved.

you set the note down, your fingers brushing over the soft petals of the tulips. for the first time in a long while, you felt a genuine sense of hope. maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new — something better.

perhaps giving theo a chance wasn’t that bad of an idea, after all.

[synicaljah]

girls will look at a man and say “he’s just misunderstood” as he murders people

[synicaljah]

𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

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

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - After a late night out with Pansy, Y/N stumbles home tipsy, only to find Tom Riddle waiting up for her as always. Instead of scolding her, Tom gently looks after his affectionate (and slightly clingy) wife, carrying her upstairs and helping her to bed. In her wine-dazed affection, Y/N insists she missed him terribly and claims her favourite place is always home with him.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Requested: "tom looking after hungover yn please. no kids. love ya" - love this and thank you for this because I've been staring at my computer for the last hour with no motivation at all until you sent this.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The front door creaked open just past two in the morning.

Soft footsteps padded across the wooden floor, accompanied by the unmistakable shuffle of someone trying (and failing) to be quiet. He heard a muffled hiccup. Then a whisper:

“…Bloody traitor, Pansy… said we’d be home by midnight…”

Tom Riddle closed the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour and stood from the armchair in the corner of the sitting room, bathed in low candlelight.

Y/N froze in the doorway, blinking at the tall, shadowed figure with tousled curls and a very unimpressed expression.

“Hi,” she offered sheepishly, heels dangling from one hand, makeup slightly smudged, eyes glassy and bright from laughter and wine. “You’re still up?”

Tom arched a brow, arms folding across his chest. “No, I’m sleepwalking.”

Y/N giggled and stumbled forward only to be swiftly caught before she tripped on the edge of the rug.

Tom steadied her easily, strong hands firm around her waist. “Honestly. How much did you drink?”

“Not much,” she said, resting her head against his chest like it was the most natural place in the world. “Maybe… three glasses. Four. There was champagne. And those little sparkling ones that taste like sherbet.”

“Dangerous,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her hair.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice suddenly softer, her arms winding lazily around his middle. “Did you miss me?”

“Tragically,” he said dryly, but his arms wrapped around her in return, his hand sliding gently up her back.

“You smell nice,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You smell like cherries and bad decisions.”

“I love cherries.”

Tom chuckled under his breath and nudged her toward the staircase. “Come on, my love. Bed.”

But Y/N tightened her grip around his waist. “Mmm. Can’t. I’m comfy.”

“You’ll be comfier upstairs.”

“You’ll carry me?”

Tom paused. “You’re not serious.”

“I am. You’re strong. You did it last month when I fell asleep on the garden bench.”

He stared at her.

She batted her lashes.

He sighed. And then, of course, scooped her up bridal style like she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N gave a happy hum and nestled into his chest. “See? Told you. Strongest wizard and best husband.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but his hand curled around her thigh with practiced care, holding her securely as he climbed the stairs with effortless grace.

In their bedroom, he gently laid her on the bed and started undoing the clasps of her cloak. Y/N tugged at his sleeve before he could step away.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” she insisted, tugging harder until he sat beside her. “Lay with me.”

He sighed, defeated, and toed off his shoes before lying down fully clothed beside her. She curled into his side like a kitten, throwing a leg over his.

“I had fun,” she murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. “But I like being home better.”

Tom’s hand stroked her hair, slow and steady. “Because you missed me.”

“Obviously,” she said with a pout. “Who else lets me cling like a drunk barnacle?”

“I happen to like drunk barnacles,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Good,” she said with a sleepy smile, “’cause you married one.”

There was silence for a moment.

Then she whispered, “You waited up for me.”

“I always do.”

“Even if I’m late?”

“Especially when you’re late.”

Y/N snuggled impossibly closer, practically climbing onto him. “You love me too much.”

Tom glanced down at her, at the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, at the wine-dazed affection spilling from her like honey. His hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“Impossible,” he murmured. “There’s no such thing.”

And as she drifted off with her fingers tangled in his shirt and her nose pressed against his neck, Tom Riddle the Darkest, most feared man in Britain smiled.

Soft. Quiet.

Utterly gone for her.

[synicaljah]

I hope avatar writers come back when this movie comes out omg 😭🥲

[synicaljah]

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who loves when you wear his hoodie, especially when you’re not wearing much else underneath. "cold?" he’ll ask, eyes roaming a bit too long before pulling you into his lap

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who insists on recovery time—pulling you into his chest while you’re both sweaty and spent. his voice low against your ear: "you did so good for me"

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who buys matching water bottles or running shoes "by accident." when you point it out, he just shrugs. "it’s practical." but he’s lowkey proud when people ask if you’re a couple

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who carries you bridal style/over his shoulders when you complain your legs are sore after a workout, laughing when you tell him to put you down

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who loves to tease you mid workout. he'll crouch in front of you with a smirk, saying "come on, baby. one more set and i’ll reward you. however you want." (you end up doing 5 more sets after that)

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who often gets hit on by girls at the gym, but he does not hesitate for a moment to tell them that he has a girlfriend. sometimes he'll even walk over to you and kiss you right in front of the girl to prove his point further

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who takes candids of you—at the gym, at home, on his chest—whenever he can. he keeps it in a locked album on his phone labeled motivation

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who carries your stuff without you having to ask. whether it’s groceries, your gym duffel, or your tiny purse—he just grabs it and throws it over his shoulder like it’s nothing. says nothing, too, but if you try to take it back, he just gives you that look

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who has his shirt off every morning, wearing sweatpants as he makes breakfast for the two of you as you sit on the counter half asleep, kissing you ever so often

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who presses soft kisses to your temple as you awake on the morning, arms wrapping around your waist from behind, murmuring, "i love you"

athletic trainer bf! iwaizumi who gets up early to run with you, but ends up letting you crawl back into bed—pulling you against him, voice still raspy: "fine. five more minutes. just don’t blame me if we don’t make it to training"

♡ finally decided to finish this draft ^^ i didn't know how to end it jsjsjjsjs