hello! my name is halle, (pronounced like halle bailey or berry), my pronouns are she/her, i’m in college studying political science, and i’m from the united states! writing is my home away from home 🏠💟
the characters i currently write for include:
mattheo riddle
tom riddle
percy jackson
spiderman/peter parker
superman/clark kent
my requests are always open unless i specify otherwise! if you just wanna talk about random stuff, that’s okay too babes🤍 i’m always down for making new friends
i will not write:
suicide
non-consensual acts
male reader (just because i’m not a man and don’t want to represent anything inaccurately!)
rlly weird stuff👎🏼 just keep it normal my lovelies
if you skip past the warnings on any posts, i am not responsible for how you react. lets just keep a positive vibe going on and have fun! xoxo🪶
what's your house?? and your cabin?? im a hufflepuff lol
btw i fucking love your theme a lot its really comforting to stare at (dont mind me)
what r ur top 3 fav reptiles??
love you lotss
omg hi bby!!! i literally already thought i followed you and when i realized i didnt i was like WHAT.
i’m a hufflepuff too and im cabin 7 (apollo)!! and YAYYYY i’m so glad you love my theme i literally raged trying to create it so i’m glad it was worth it😭💟 my top three reptiles are probably alligators, sea turtles, and chameleons!!
Hey, anon here😁!! I BEGGG FOR SOME DISGUSTING TOM RIDDLE FLUFF OR SMUT.. anyways that all thanks ily💋💋
THE ONLY EXCEPTION
PAIRING: Tom Riddle x Fem!Shy!Reader
WARNINGS: Slightly suggestive, our girl Pans is a troublemaker, Tom lowkey threatens Pansy, disgusting fluff, and yeah! 💌
SUMMARY: You get your nails done with your friends for the first time. Tom’s never been one to like things lacking purpose, but as usual, you’re the exception.
WORD COUNT: 1,207
A/N: hello anon honey!! i chose a fluffy little piece, but i have some ideas for smut in the works for next time (and maybe you can send in some more😼)! as always i hope you all enjoy, i tried out proper capitalization rather than lowercase so let me know what you think! do we like it better with or without 🤔🤔
The first thing that Tom noticed upon your arrival back to the common room was your smile. Or rather, the way it stretched ear to ear in a display that made the edges or your eyes crinkle, radiant and carefree and so different from your usual sink-into-the-shadows entrance that Tom felt himself still. The second thing he noticed was the way Parkinson and Greengrass had you pancaked tightly between them, arms curled around yours with their done-up, gaudy nails standing out against your skin.
They were extremely lucky that you appeared so… joyful with them, Merlin knows why, or else he would’ve removed their hands from you at once. Instead, he settled for glaring at the places they rested on your forearms. And of course, the final thing he noticed were your nails, placed cautiously on your friends as they whispered conspiratorially and steered you over to him.
Tom’s eyes tracked you as you reluctantly followed them, cheeks red and gaze trained on your shoes before they came to a stop before him, Astoria and Pansy looking all too pleased with themselves. You looked like you wished for the floor to swallow you whole.
“Riddle.” Parkinson’s voice greeted, sly and husky in a tone that made him immediately irritated.
You watched his eyes narrow, dark and laced with a dangerous undercurrent that had Astoria’s confidence wavering, though Pansy seemed unaffected— per usual. After a moment of wondering whether this was worth his time whatsoever, Tom’s head dipped into a slight nod of greeting, closing the book that had sat unattended on his lap.
“Ladies.”
His voice was like the smoothest of silk, soft in the most deceptive of ways so you wouldn’t notice the satin knot being tied around your throat. You looked up then, your eyes immediately meeting his. The way he was staring at you, so intense and as if nothing surrounding you mattered, made your heart stop.
Then, without warning, Pansy grabbed your hand, ignoring your startled squeak and practically dragging you behind her as she thrust it into Tom’s view. His slow, unamused blink was the only thing that displayed his surprise.
“She got her nails done with us. Aren’t they pretty, Riddle?”
You vaguely wondered if Pansy had a death wish as you and Astoria shared a wary look. Tom was alarmingly unmoving, his stare sharp and cold where it rested on her fingers wrapped around your wrist.
“I suggest removing your hand, Parkinson. I would hate to have to do it for you.”
And for once in her life, Pansy listened, although it was done with a show of exaggeration, her palms coming up in surrender. Now that Tom could sufficiently focus, he leaned forward an indiscernible amount, focused intently on the new addition to the digits he had committed to memory.
Your nails were longer, but not so much so that it made them inconvenient or tacky. They were shaped gracefully into a rounded look, one resembling that of an almond, and were a shade of green so dark that one might think them black. More than that, they were so different from your friends’ nails that he couldn’t quite comprehend how you hung out with people with such bad taste (their nails were actually quite pretty, Tom is just allergic to color).
For someone who typically detested things that held no purpose, Tom found himself wanting to trace his fingers over yours and memorize every new angle and crevice. He found himself wanting to find how they would look interlinked with his, and how they’d feel scraping down his back. His face showed none of these curiosities, rather a blankness that left you shifting.
The longer his silence extended, the more impatient Pansy grew, foot tapping restlessly against the marble flooring as she squinted at Tom, ready to defend. You pulled your hands back then, feeling embarrassed and beginning to nervously pick at the skin around your cuticles until Tom shot his hand out, grabbing yours in a firm but soft grip.
The corner of Pansy’s lip curled up, her eyes glinting with satisfaction at the way Tom’s thumb smoothed over your skin before dropping you like you were on fire.
“Well?”
Tom glared at her.
“Well, what?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Well, what do you think?”
You held your breath as Tom looked away from Pansy and towards you with a scrutiny like molten lava— burning as it seeped under your skin and into your veins, lighting you from the inside out. He looked away into the respite cool of stone wall, jaw clenched.
“They’re… tolerable.”
It was frustrated sounding, like it pained him to admit even the most basic of compliments. Perhaps because from him, it held more words than a thousand empty letters could say, more honesty than hundreds of adjectives could provide.
Pansy gasped theatrically as your ears turned red.
“You heard that, right Astoria? He practically said he wants to put a ring on her finger.”
Astoria laughed before she could stop it, her eyes turning wide and her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Tom turned to Pansy with a scowl.
“I said no such thing. I merely stated that the nails aren’t the most hideous articles I’ve ever seen.”
“A love declaration coming from you.”
“Watch your tongue, Parkinson.”
You watched the interaction with despair, wide gaze bouncing back and forth between them like an intense tennis match. Pansy opened her mouth, ready to hurl another taunt, but you gripped her sleeve, frowning.
“Guys.”
It was soft, but it didn’t need volume. Pansy looked at you, your face pleading and pretty, before nodding with a sigh. Tom felt his muscles relax, well— as much as they were capable of, at your voice, his hand unclenching where it was laid on his knee, tight against his black slacks.
Pansy squeezed your hand, a silent apology as she began to lead Astoria away with her, up into the girls dorms where you would inevitably meet with them later. You hesitated, then sat down next to Tom with a considerable amount of room between the two of you.
Silence. And then.
“Your friends are insufferable.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, looking over at Tom with a sweet smile. When you spoke, your voice was quiet. “Pansy isn’t usually like that. She means well.”
“Perhaps.”
Tom settled back into his book then, and you conjured some crafty sort of project you had been working on (rubber band bracelets?), and it was peaceful for a long while. Domestic, some would describe it, had not all witnesses been terrified of Tom. It might’ve even been hours before his hand crept closer to yours, which had briefly given up on your project in favor of exhaustion, and locked his fingers with yours, finally finding out what they looked like together.
He said nothing. He didn’t have to, not as your head moved to his shoulder in a sleepy display and he didn’t push you away. Not as his thumb rolled small circles over your knuckles, nor as he clumsily flipped the page one handedly.
Turns out, he liked your nails interlinked with his quite a bit. Maybe he’d find out what they’d look like down his back later.
TAG LIST🏷️: @itsravenclaw379 @booksstarryskies @stwrlghts @crazysweettooth-01 @hearts2vivi
summary: tom finds out it’s your birthday. you don’t want anything. tough luck!🫠
word count: 1,230
a/n: hi guys!! i decided to write this in honor of my bday just passing, i hope you enjoy!!😊😊💌
tom riddle had never quite understood the point of birthdays. he never understood why people put so much emotional value on a singular date, as if it was a big milestone they had accomplished rather than a day that represented another turn around the sun. more than that, he didn’t understand the social obligations that came with them. the awkward gift opening of things you’ll never use and have to pretend to like, the tedious replying to repetitive celebratory messages, and the embarrassed, forced smile everyone wears as people sing happy birthday off key.
to him, it seemed more of a punishment than a celebration for everybody involved, which is why he had managed to make it his entire life with only attending small gatherings thrown by people who actually matter, such as his brother’s and closest confidants. he had never allowed anybody to throw him a party of his own, and he had never given anybody a gift other than a couple of galleons. why go to the effort of getting someone something they like when they can simply purchase it for themselves?
all of these reasons compiled together should’ve been enough for him to be pleased by the fact you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday. and yet.
“my apologies, what did you say?”
“i said, i don’t want a party. they… make me uncomfortable.”
tom didn’t understand the why he was frowning, nor why his chest constricted unpleasantly at the thought of you, alone tomorrow, acting as if it was any other day. it was any other day. in fact, he wouldn’t have even known that tomorrow was your birthday is parkinson hadn’t let it slip, and by the glare you threw her way at the comment, you clearly hadn’t wanted tom to know. the thought made him shift in his seat. why hadn’t you wanted him to know? selfishly, he wished that he had remained ignorant, if only so he could ignore the odd feeling making his stomach sink.
“why?”
you looked at him, confused, and tom registered that it had been long moments since your statement passed, leaving you to believe the conversation was over.
“why what?”
“why do parties make you uncomfortable?”
your brows drew together in a thoughtful display, your lip finding purchase between your teeth as you considered. tom watched, fascinated by the way his hand twitched in restraint so as not to lean forward and remove it himself. it was just because it was a foolish, distracting habit, he told himself.
“i suppose it’s because i don’t enjoy all the attention on me. it makes me feel nervous rather than appreciated, which is the intended purpose. it’s just easier this way.” you explained at last, quiet and unhurried. tom had always appreciated that about you, that you took the time to collect your thoughts so that your words were sincere and meaningful— different than many other of the blundering fools roaming the castle.
“easier for no one to know, you mean?”
your cheeks flushed as you turned to busy yourself in the shelves of the barren library with an unintelligible mumble, dim and dusty at the late hour. tom, too, turned back to the task at hand, re-sorting the books alphabetically by author rather than by title (the way it should have been in the beginning). it was silent for some long minutes, the kind of silence that leaves no inclination to fill words in its void. when it was inevitably broken, it was by tom’s cold voice, sounding as if it had been dragged from his throat rather than spoken willingly.
“you could have told me. i would have… understood.”
you felt your heart pause its repetitive drumming against your sternum, skipping a beat before resuming twice as fast. you chanced a glance at tom, eyes wide, who was pointedly looking elsewhere. your hands turned clammy against a worn out tome. if you didn’t know any better, you might’ve guessed that tom was— insulted? though that made no sense.
you swallowed. cleared your throat softly. “i didn’t know you would want to know.”
tom looked at you then, expression inscrutable except for the minuscule line between his brows, eyes reserved and enigmatic.
“i want to know everything about you.”
it was several moments before you were able to breath properly again, and even more before you could speak.
tom wasn’t wholly sure how he ended up at hogsmead the following day before the sun had even fully risen. his morning had began just like any other of his weekend mornings. he got up at 6:00 rather than 5:30, a comfort he only allowed himself on saturdays and sundays, dressed, and made his way to the great hall for breakfast and coffee while it was still empty.
after that, he returned to his dorm as usual for some light reading to fully awaken his brain for his upcoming studying. today, though, it seems that he found his mind frequently wandering during his reading of secrets of the darkest art to something in particular. or rather, someone— that someone being you, of course.
after rereading the same nonsensical sentence five times, tom had had enough. he needed a distraction, a better one, and so he found himself immersed in a game of solo chess, where he earned his first ever loss by the moronic pieces taunting him. immediately following the loss, tom stood up quickly, jaw clenched in frustration, and grabbed his coat. he was going to hogsmead to get you a gift and rid himself of this… suffocating weight pressing against his ribs. after that, he could return to his normal activities.
he had it all planned out in his head, how he would just pick up a quick card and throw some galleons in it like he did for everybody else. he walked, scowling at the morning dew wetting his loafers and this ridiculous situation in general before stopping suddenly in front of a display case in tomes and scrolls.
it was a beautifully bound leather journal, a shade of blue so dark it almost appeared black. it had deep silver etchings engraved along the spine in flowy lines, and on the front, a detailed portrait of ursa major, a constellation he knew to be your favorite. his feet carried him closer without prompting.
he could see you sitting there with it, clear as day with ink stained fingers, huddled over the book as you confided in it. could see the way you’d tuck back a strand of hair that fell in your face, and the way you white-knuckled the quill, as if it would run and tell everyone what you’d written. he hated that he could see it, see you, so clearly. hated that the dumb object practically screamed your name, and hated that he knew you enough to hear it.
he hated it every step of the way, but he still entered the shop, welcome bell ringing mockingly, and purchased it because you reduced him to weakness in a way he loathed.
when you woke up, hours later as tom knew you would because you hated the early mornings, the journal laid on your nightstand as if it had been there the whole time. it was the prettiest little thing you’d ever seen— you didn’t even want to imagine what the opulent leather and fine parchment had cost.
there was no note. it didn’t need one. you knew who it was from. after all, there was only one person who knew you that well.
tag list: @itsravenclaw379 @booksstarryskies @stwrlghts @crazysweettooth-01
hi guys!! i just saw that i have some anon requests YAYYY☺️☺️ just wanted to let you know i will be getting to them shortly💟 i’ve been a bit slammed lately and i’m currently working on a small little blurb in honor of my bday today🫶 love you all!
random texts with tom, mattheo, theo, draco, blaise, and enzo!
a/n: hi guys!! this is something a little different i wanted to try out🤔🤔 lmk what you think and if you want a bit more of this type of content!! i will of course continue writing but yeah😊
tom
mattheo
draco
theo
blaise
enzo
tag list: @itsravenclaw379 @stwrlghts @booksstarryskies
warnings: literally nothing this is just disgusting fluff and softness😞
summary: you bring tom riddle, the dark lord, cookies at midnight.
word count: 1,336
a/n: hello my lovelies! i’m so happy i’m finally able to get out a tom and shy!reader work, they’ve been on my mind for a while and i hope you guys enjoy them!!💗💗 tom & jerry? nah. tom & cookies.
the sound of your shoes against the marble was a soft padding, rhythmic and steady along the darkened halls. it was nearing midnight, the time when even the portraits along the walls had tired of their gossip and fallen into slumber, and yet here you were, out past curfew with a tupperware of warm snickerdoodle cookies in hand.
you walked away from the point where you had left a small handful of treats for mrs. norris, a trick you had learnt long ago, and towards the dungeons, the air growing cooler and increasingly intimidating with each step. at this hour, it felt like eyes were on you from all angles, and you fastened your pace despite feeling silly.
you rounded a corner and there stood that familar stone door with faded, cryptic markings of snakes and other sorts. the whispered password left your lips, sounding entirely too loud in the echoed silence of the halls, and you watched as a stone snake slithered up from floor and around the door, opening with a hiss.
you pushed the door open further with a soft nudge, creeping inside before shutting it behind you as softly as possible. the common room was barren except for one or two bleary-eyed stragglers, but you hadn’t expected tom to be there anyways. no, you knew he’d be in his dorm, lost in his studies as he so frequently was, unaware to anything else— even to his own thirst or hunger, at times.
nobody paid you any mind as you steered through the common room and up to the prefect dormitories, settling at the top of the stairs with clammy hands. you paused for a beat, persuading yourself to knock on the door. it’s not that you thought tom would greet you with disdain, never. but tom was… well, tom. intimidating and powerful and seemingly so far out of your reach at times, especially when you got into your own head.
you were being foolish, you knew you were, so you steeled yourself, raised your fist to the aged walnut, and rapped softly against the wood in succession, breath caught in your lungs. nothing. nothing for a moment long enough to convince yourself that this was a terrible idea and that you should turn around and leave at once, but just as you were about to, a voice spoke from the other side.
“come.”
the command was deep and muffled from the hardwood separating you, but compelling nonetheless. your fingers met the cool grain of the handle, and before you could even twist, the door was opening. you stepped in and heard the soft click of the door shutting behind you, locking on its own. there tom was, sat at his desk, posture perfectly straight, quill in hand writing a variety of things you probably couldn’t comprehend, especially this late at night.
“i wondered how long you’d stand there before announcing yourself.” tom stated, not looking up, and you flushed at the realization he knew you were there the whole time, arguing with yourself inanely. you tightened your grip on the plastic container and took a step forwards, heart racing. only then did tom look at you, eyes cold and calculating but softening nearly indecipherably at the image of you, stood there anxiously in a sweater much too big for your frame.
“i, uhm.. i brought you something.” you winced at the way your voice came out, pitchy and teetering on the verge of shakiness. his eyes traced your face and followed your movements as you delicately held out the sweets to him. his brows furrowed together, and in this lighting, you could make out the veiled exhaustion hiding in the planes of his face, shown in the almost unnoticeable discolored circles under his eyes and in the way his cheekbones had slightly sunken.
you could see the confusion lining his features as his hand reached out, slowly— as if the tupperware would bite him— and grasped around the container, taking it gently from your grip. he looked down at the item, and then up at you, and then down again, before finally unclasping the top and placing it to the side with focused precision. the aroma of baked sugar, butter, and cinnamon immediately jumped around the room, almost startling in its haste of seeping into your senses. tom, too, look startled, finally seeming to realize that you had brought him, tom marvolo riddle, cookies at 12:00 in the morning.
“you made these.” it wasn’t a question so much as an asserted recognition, laced with perplexity and practiced aloofness. you answered anyways, a ‘yes’ so quiet it could be swept away by an oncoming breeze. tom hesitated briefly before picking up one of the snickerdoodles, examining it with care as if it was a ancient relic to be studied rather than a sweet you baked with flour coated fingers.
after a thorough inspection, he finally brought it to his lips and took a small, careful bite, his eyes on yours— or rather, on the way your fist tightened on the hem of your sleeve in a restraint to not pick at your nails, a jittery habit you knew tom despised. it was true, he did despise the way speckles of blood appeared in your nails wake, staining your skin in the most unpleasant shade. it looked wrong there, and it stood out much too loudly, so much so that it distracted tom. why, he couldn’t quite comprehend, but he loathed it, and so you made an effort to stop.
your white-knuckled grip on that striped sweater led tom to the fascinating epiphany that you were worried. worried that he wouldn’t like the baked good that you had clearly put effort into, and to his great surprise, you were wrong. tom was never much of a fan of sugar, but the mix of flavors settling on his tongue was actually… good. perhaps it was the subtle tanginess that snickerdoodle was known for combatting the sweetness, or perhaps it was because it was you who had made it, but tom found himself taking another bite unprompted.
at his carefully detached visage, you made a move to explain yourself. “i knew that you’d still be up because of that essay you mentioned yesterday, and you weren’t at dinner, so i thought that maybe you were.. hungry? you don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, though!” you maundered quickly, jumbled and concerned.
his throat worked as he swallowed, only now recognizing the faint pangs of hunger reverberating through his abdomen. his eyes locked onto yours, dark and captivating, practically holding you hostage in his gaze.
“thank you.”
the sincerity in the syllables startled even tom, who frowned as he reached for another cookie, as if his hand itself was betraying him. you blinked, eyes wide, before you felt your shoulders begin to drop and your limbs begin to relax. a smile crept across your face, slow and soft, and you found your cheeks heating.
“you’re welcome, tom.”
he paused for a moment, as if his name on your lips had rendered him wordless, and then…
“stay.”
it wasn’t a request, but he made it sound like one, gentling his tone in an attempt to assuage you. your mouth opened. closed. opened again.
“i don’t…” you started aimlessly.
“please.” it was a word tom disliked very much, but for you? it had came out almost naturally. he hated that. he hated the thought of you leaving even more.
your lip found its way in between your teeth, getting gnawed on unpleasantly as your eyes darted around, surveying. you looked at tom, wholly focused on you, and sighed, releasing your trapped lip. you nodded.
“okay.”
it was a quiet agreement, whispered like a soft defeat in the quiet of the night. tom nodded as well, satisfied.
“okay.”
yet as he made room for you to curl up in his arms as he worked, he felt better than okay. he felt a word he dare not name.
tag list: @itsravenclaw379 @booksstarryskies @stwrlghts
hello my lovelies!! i’ve noticed some people have been asking about a tag list for my works, which i don’t currently have so i’m making right now! if you would like to be added, please comment or dm me and lmk💗💗
warnings: baby fever (obviously), suggestive ending, tom riddle being nonchalant, and fluff fluff fluff!
summary: puff comes across cute baby videos. when does that ever go well?
word count: 876
a/n: hi guys!! sorry this is so short, i wanted to get a little something out but this is all i have because i’ve been so busy with dumb life😒 that being said, i hope you guys enjoy and that i can get some longer stuff out soon! 🤍
the slytherin common room was silent, the calm kind of silence that made your eyes begin to droop and your mouth open in a yawn. the group was sprawled upon the couches in various positions and tasks, and the slytherins you didn’t know well were accustomed to your regular appearance at mattheo’s side by now.
that might’ve been why it was even more shocking when you suddenly blurted out from your lazy scrolling, “i want a baby.”
it was almost comical the way everybody’s heads snapped to look at you in a mixture of disbelief and horror. well, everybody’s but mattheo’s, who’s hand had gone deathly still from where it was rubbing languid circles along your bare calf. even tom had turned to look at you slowly with a barely decipherable eyebrow raise, his face carefully blank. “explain.”
you let out an indignant huff, tightening your grip on your phone where a cute baby video was playing on repeat. “not right now, obviously. i’m not stupid.” the room let out a collective breath of relief, and you rolled your eyes, just barely noticing the way tom immediately went back to his book, unbothered. you sat up straighter and turned up the volume on the device before practically shoving it in blaise’s face, who leaned back, startled and squinting and the muggle technology.
you watched as he observed the video, the way the furrow between his brows smoothed ever so slightly and his lips quirked up in an almost unnoticeable movement as the little girl’s laughter rang from the screen. the video ended, and you pulled the phone back, waiting anxiously for his reaction. he looked at you, at your wide and eager eyes with a certain glint to them, and sighed. “it’s… cute.” he admitted begrudgingly.
you squealed excitedly, pointedly ignoring the wince he let out at the sudden high-pitched noise, practically bouncing in your seat. “i know right. did you see that onsie?” you gushed, distractedly handing the phone to theo, draco, and enzo who were hovering impatiently above you.
you turned your attention to them after blaise’s nod, monitoring the way they practically melted as the toddler waddled onto the screen in her yellow duck romper, following after her father in the park on unsteady new feet covered in tiny shoes. a moment later, the clip changed to her nestled in a swingset seat, curly pigtails blowing lightly as she giggled with flushed cheeks and a gap-toothed smile, her mother pushing behind her.
theo mumbled something in italian, lilt surprisingly soft, and it seemed draco for once didn’t have a sarcastic comment to share. “she kinda looks like you, puff.” enzo pointed out, voice light. draco frowned.
“um, no. she doesn’t.”
“um, yes. she does. with the yellow and the hair.”
theo’s eyebrows shot up, unbelieving. “just because they both like yellow and have hair doesn’t mean they look alike, moron.”enzo scoffed. “i know that-” he was cut off by mattheo’s impatient hand, which grabbed the phone with more force than necessary.
at any other time, a petty argument would break out over the simple movement, but now? everybody was focused on mattheo’s face as the video played, watching in silent wait for his response. he gave nothing away even as the video ended, just slowly handed the phone back to you, tension radiating off his body.
you felt your pulse thumping loudly throughout your body, heart banging against your ribcage as your nerves grew. the boys looked between each other and then back at mattheo, then briefly at tom who’s gaze had focused on his brother, and then back at each other, playing a game of anticipation with their eyes.
theo let out a pitchy whistle, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “soooo-” mattheo stood abruptly, his fingers latching snuggly around your wrist as he quickly led you up towards his dorm, ignoring the knowing jeers ringing out from behind him. you stumbled slightly as you clumsily followed him, surprised, and he slowed his pace to match yours, still not meeting your worried gaze.
“matty?” you questioned, sounding more anxious than you’d meant. his jaw tightened as he closed the door behind you and began to pace, hand coming up to mess with his curls, eyes trained on his feet while his lips moved— no sound came out, as if he was having an argument with himself only he could hear. you took a step closer from where you stood by the door, hesitant, and began to speak.
“i didn’t mean to scare you, matt. i didn’t mean like… now, of course. far into the future— and only if you want them too, you know! i’d never want you to think i was-” it was jumbled rambles spoken through rosy cheeks, hands gesturing as you spoke, and mattheo let out a tortured groan as he seemingly lost whatever battle was raging in his mind, closing the space between you with two wide steps and backing you against the door, not commenting on your startled gasp.
“you’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, puff.” the words were deep and strangled, and that was all the warning you got, because suddenly his lips were on yours and you definitely weren’t thinking about cute babies.
stay: you bring tom riddle, the dark lord, cookies at midnight.
worth celebrating: tom finds out it’s your birthday. you don’t want anything. tough luck!🫠
the only exception: you get your nails done with your friends for the first time. tom doesn’t typically like things lacking purpose, but as usual, you’re the exception.
warnings: the slytherins suck at quidditch for a sec there☹️, actually nauseating amounts of fluff, & slight pda!
summary: the boys lost a quidditch game. puff is apparently their emotional support human?
word count: 892
a/n: hi guys! this is lowkey so ass i’m sorry💔 i moved apartments this week and had a midterm only in college do you have to pay $1.05 for a dumb scantron bro😒 anyways, i hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💌
the game had been a complete disaster, even you could begrudgingly admit that. not that the boys hadn’t fought their hardest, they always did, but gryffindor’s recently appointed captain ginny weasley had come out with new tricks— tricks that you weren’t sure were totally ethical, but genius nonetheless. the new strategy, mixed with the heavy rain and goyle getting removed for a nasty foul, had led to an almost embarrassing loss.
the drenched mud squelched noisily beneath your feet as you made your way to the changing rooms. you knew that mattheo would still have the boys on the field even after the crowds departed, reflecting and overanalyzing every minuscule thing that went wrong. even though you weren’t the biggest fan of goyle, your heart went out to him right about now.
leaning against the splintered wood of the locker room, you waited patiently under the cover, watching as the last light drops of rain drizzled out until all that was left was an earthy smell and a dampness to the air. the last of the lingering students made their way back to the castle, their chatter and laughs echoing behind them until all that was left was a still silence.
only then did the boys emerge from the field in long, angry strides, drenched with clenched jaws and a hardness to their eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. you stood straighter, noticing how mattheo, theo, enzo, draco, and blaise were grouped together at the front, the rest of the team and their reserves sulking behind them. mattheo turned slightly to say something to goyle, his fist flexing at his side, and you saw the first few letters of the word CAPTAIN displayed across his green back.
they made their way closer, still lost in tense conversation until enzo and you met gazes. he stilled for a brief moment as you gave him a sheepish smile and small wave, and then softened and nudged mattheo’s shoulder with his own, head tilting in your direction. mattheo paused whatever he was saying, following enzo’s line of vision until his eyes met yours.
and then, for the first time since he’d left you early in the morning, he felt his shoulders begin to loosen and his fists begin to relax, muscles losing their tension at the mere sight of you. his throat worked as he muttered something to theo, who nodded and repeated it louder. the rest of the team dispersed then, walking past you like beaten dogs into the locker room with their eyes on their feet.
the boys made their way over to you, appearing calmer than they had a moment ago. “hi guys.” you greeted, gentle, and mattheo’s arms came to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him with a deep sigh and resting his head on your shoulder, not caring of the audience watching. the boys rolled their eyes, used to his mindless pda, and offered you a mixture of hellos.
“bad game?”
a series of groans and comments rang out. you smiled, straining your ears to listen to their individual comments.
“fucking weasley.” draco, obviously.
“i almost killed goyle, puff, i swear.” theo.
“complete waste of time.” blaise.
“hooch acted like we were invisible.” enzo.
and of course, mattheo, who tightened his grip on you and mumbled bitterly into your skin, “‘t was a shit show.”
“okay then.” it came out as a light laugh, and you watched as the boys got amped up again and chatted vehemently, save for theo who just began cursing in italian. your hand came up absentmindedly to tangle in mattheo’s soaked curls as you listened. he melted into you like his body was made out of jello, and you giggled.
it continued on like that for a couple of minutes, you chiming in with the occasional comment when one of them would look to you for your take, making your heart warm inside of your chest. you entertained them until you finally couldn’t watch another one of them pretend not to shiver at the cold seeping into their bones. only then did you pull away from mattheo, who looked at you in betrayal, and order them to go shower and warm up.
despite the couple of complaints on how they weren’t children, they listened because it was you and you were in mom mode and they all were pretty cold. they all made their way into the changing rooms, drenched and looking slightly pitiable, all but mattheo.
“you’re freezing, matty.” you frowned, rubbing your palm up and down where it rested on his icy arm. “just a minute more, okay?” he asked, somehow entangled with you again, his dark eyes trained on yours. you sighed, and a small okay parted from your lips despite yourself, your body turning pliant against his.
your hand came up unconsciously to brush away a stray curl that had fallen into his face, your lip twitching at the way mattheo closed his eyes and rested his face into your palm, exhaling and planting a kiss on the inside of it.
“needed this.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.” it was a whispered brush against your skin, like a branding that you’d feel for hours after the moment had passed.
“i’m not going anywhere.”
with that promise warm in his soul and your body wrapped around his, the cold couldn’t reach mattheo if it tried.
