[rafesslxt]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐗𝐓

𝑺𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑯. early 20‘s. german. aquarius. sarcasm. rafey <3. big dogs. mangos. e guitar. reading.222. slytherin. hufflepuff. mattheo’s girl. star wars. buldak noodles. zoro. luffy. ace. ghibli movies. dreaming. reading. writing…

📎 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

xoxo sarah <3

[anawritez-posts]

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞

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

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - During an execution, Tom stops mid-killing curse to answer Y/N’s phone call. The Death Eaters witness that even fear and death come second to his wife.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - yee as per request..

The man was already on his knees. Shaking and begging. Pathetic.

A circle of Death Eaters stood around them, silent, watching waiting. The air was thick with anticipation, with fear, with the quiet understanding that this was a lesson.

At the center stood Tom Riddle, wand raised, expression calm to the point of indifference. “Avada—”

A sharp sound cut through the moment. Not a spell but a ringtone.

Tom stopped.

The entire room seemed to freeze with him. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his wand and reached into his coat.

Across from him, Marvolo Riddle stared. “…You’re joking.”

Tom glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “Dearest?.”

A ripple of confusion passed through the gathered Death Eaters.

Marvolo blinked once. “Really?” he said flatly. “You’re answering that? Now?”

Tom didn’t even look at him. “It's your mother.”

Marvolo paused then nodded once, like that explained everything. “Right. Of course.”

Tom’s voice shifted smoother, softer, entirely at odds with the scene around him. “Yes,” he said into the phone, as if he hadn’t just been about to kill someone. “I’m finishing up now.”

The man on the floor let out a broken sob while no one acknowledged it.

“I’ll stop and get it on the way,” Tom continued, completely composed. His eyes flicked briefly to Marvolo. “And our son is here.”

Several Death Eaters exchanged glances.

Marvolo folded his arms, unimpressed.

“And yes,” Tom added calmly, “I’ll be home shortly.”

The man was still alive, still breathing, still waiting for his life to end.

Marvolo looked down at him then back at his father. And without warning “Avada Kedavra.”

Green light flooded the room and the man collapsed instantly.

Silence followed. And just like that, every eye in the room shifted not to the body but to Marvolo.

A message, clear as anything: The younger Dark Lord is impatient.

Tom slowly lowered the phone from his ear. Turned his head looking at his son. “…I was handling it.”

Marvolo raised a brow. “You were on the phone.”

“That,” Tom said coolly, “was your mother. The Dark Lady. My wife.”

Marvolo gestured lightly to the corpse. “And that was taking too long.”

A few Death Eaters shifted slightly, watching the exchange like it mattered more than the kill itself.

Tom’s gaze flicked briefly to the body. Unbothered then back to Marvolo. “…If my wife calls,” he said evenly, “I answer.”

Marvolo tilted his head. “Even mid-spell?”

Tom finally gave him a look which was sharp and certain. “That is your mother.” A beat. “My wife.”

Marvolo held his gaze for a second then exhaled. “…Right.”

Tom turned away slightly, lifting the phone back to his ear as if nothing had happened. “Yes,” he said smoothly. “It’s done.” A pause. “…Yes, I’m still getting the cream.”

Another pause.

His expression shifted just barely. “…He’s here.”

Marvolo frowned. “Don’t—”

“You’re coming for dinner,” Tom added.

A collective, almost imperceptible shift went through the room Death Eaters watching their second Dark Lord get summoned like that.

Marvolo groaned. “Of course I am.”

Tom ended the call. Then he adjusted his sleeve calm, precise, like this had all gone exactly as expected and stepped forward. “Come along.”

Marvolo didn’t move immediately, glancing once more at the body, then at the watching Death Eaters.

At the way they were looking at him now. Then back at his father. “You really needed to answer her mid-curse?”

Tom didn’t even slow. “Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

Tom paused just slightly, glancing back over his shoulder unimpressed. “Your mother needed something.”

That was it. That was the explanation.

Marvolo held his gaze for a moment—then huffed quietly, shaking his head as he fell into step beside him. “…Right. I forget how dedicated you are.”

And Tom continued walking, already done with the room, with the body, with all of it. Because none of it had mattered the second she called.

Behind them, the Death Eaters didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Left standing in the silence, understanding something far more important than fear, or power, or death.

Their Dark Lord was unstoppable. Feared and absolute yet for his wife he would stop everything.

taglist:

@goldenharrysworld

@academicloser69420

@midnightalbatross

@cherimimi

@draculesti-tepes

@queen-aria-things

@emberswither

@helloamalien 

@jo1818

@seriousaliysa

@marvel-potter-1d-korea

@wordsgodeep

@littlepippilongstocking

@melanin90sbaby

@joyfulyouthlover

@garfi3ldrulz

@lyssa08-19

@football1921

@sarcastic-wit

@lightbluestar6713

@wdwxherronxlover

@coryoslut

@amayahstyles 

@superlegend216

@peanutbutterslothsstuff

@amayahstyles 

@keithrys

@princessak

[rafesslxt]

A MAN

[dinaluv]

The age I had when I was reading the most outrageous disgustingly perverted graphic fanfics known to humankind.

[rafesslxt]

OMG WAIT

YOU'RE A ONE PIECE FAN TOO

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IM SO HAPPY 😭

OH I SHOULD HAVE REALIZED FROM YOUR BIO

anyway this is awesome 😌

omg another one hiiii!!!

yes i am! i watched it as a kid on tv after school and now i‘ve watched the live version 👀☺️

i also thought about writing a bit about a few characters but i‘m having problems with related words since english isn‘t my first language 😪

and don‘t worry it‘s not in my bio since that long i just added it a week ago maybe <3

[inseobts]

Fire in Our Hearts

portgas d. ace x fem!reader

after a painful breakup ace and you are forced to face everything unsaid — in a night of anger, longing, and love that neither of you can walk away from.

a/n: second attempt at writing smut, and second failure lmao sorry

words count: 2.3k

tags: no graphic body part descriptions, breakup, jealousy, argument, mild smut (it's just spicy), angst to fluff

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun burns high over the Moby Dick, but the air between you and Ace is heavier than a storm.

“You never listen to me” you snap, arms tight around yourself.

Ace stands there, frowning “I don’t need you telling me how to live my life.”

You feel your heart break a little “I’m not trying to control you! I just want you to be careful!”

Ace scoffs, turning his head like he can’t even look at you and that hurts more than anything.

You take a shaky breath, then say the words you can’t take back “Then you’re better off without me. So you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Ace freezes. You wait for him to say something. Anything.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, silent.

Your chest tightens painfully. You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fine,” you say, voice cracking “Have it your way.”

You turn and walk away and Ace doesn’t follow.

And just like that, it’s over.

A week later…

The ship docks at a lively island. Whitebeard gives everyone a day off to party. You wish you could stay in your room, but Marco pulls you out by the arm.

“Come on, you’ll feel better after a few drinks” he says.

You don’t argue. You’re too tired to argue.

The tavern is packed, music loud and messy. The crew drinks and laughs, filling the place with noise. You sit at a corner table, nursing a drink, trying not to look at Ace. Trying and failing.

He’s across the room, leaning back in his chair, relaxed. Too relaxed.

That’s when you see two girls, pretty and smiling, slide into the seats beside him. They giggle, touching his arm, whispering in his ear.

And Ace... let them do it.

He smiles a little, says something you can’t hear. One of the girls leans closer, brushing her chest against him.

Your stomach twists.

You slam your drink down harder than you mean to. Some beer splashes over the edge.

Thatch whistles low beside you “Ouch. Looks like he’s moving on fast.”

You glare at him. Thatch raises his hands like he’s innocent.

You can’t stay here. Not another second.

You get up fast, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Without a word, you push through the crowd and stumble out the door.

The cold night air hits you hard. You breathe in deep, trying to stop the burning in your chest.

“Stupid,” you whisper “I’m so stupid.”

You wipe your eyes quickly. You’re halfway back to the ship when you hear footsteps behind you.

You spin around.

Ace.

He’s jogging after you, face serious.

“What do you want?” you snap, voice sharp.

Ace stops a few feet away, breathing hard “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms “Oh, now you want to talk?”

He frowns “You just ran out! What was I supposed to do?”

You laugh bitterly “Maybe not flirt with the first girl who smiled at you!”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

“Oh yeah? Looked like you were having fun!”

Ace steps closer, eyes burning “You were the one who said we’re better off apart! You’re the one who walked away!”

You feel your whole body shaking.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt!” you shout “It killed me, Ace! And you just—you just sat there! Like you didn’t care!”

Ace opens his mouth, then closes it. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says, voice low “I didn’t want to lose you. I just… froze.”

You glare at him, breathing hard “Well. You lost me anyway.”

The space between you is full of all the things you didn’t say. All the things you should have said.

Ace takes another step closer. You don’t move away.

“You think I don’t miss you?” he says, voice rough “Every damn day?”

You feel the tears threaten to spill again. But you don’t look away.

“And you think I don’t miss you?” you whisper.

For a long second, neither of you speak. The night is too quiet. Your heart pounds loud in your ears.

Ace’s hand twitches at his side.

You know if he touches you now, you’ll break... but you really want him to.

You stand there, fists clenched at your sides, heart hammering in your chest.

“You don’t get it, Ace!” you yell, voice cracking “You don’t get how much it hurt! You acted like I meant nothing! Like you didn’t even care if I left!”

Ace’s jaw tightens “That’s not true—”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?!” you shout, louder this time “Why didn’t you chase after me, Ace?!”

Your voice shakes, broken “You’re supposed to fight for the people you love!”

Ace looks like you just punched him in the gut.

For a second, he doesn’t move. Then he crosses the space between you in two fast steps.

You’re about to yell again, to push him away, to scream everything you’ve been holding in but Ace grabs your face in his hands and crashes his mouth onto yours.

You gasp, stiff for a moment, shocked.

Then you melt against him.

The kiss is rough, desperate, full of all the anger and love you couldn’t say in words. His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, closer, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

You clutch at his shirt, fists twisting in the fabric, holding onto him like you’re drowning.

Ace groans low in his throat, deepening the kiss. His lips are hot and wild against yours, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into you at once.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, faces inches apart.

Ace leans his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice wrecked “I’m so damn sorry.”

Tears blur your eyes, but you smile a little, shaky “You’re such an idiot.”

He chuckles, broken and soft “Yeah. But I’m your idiot. If you’ll still have me.”

You don’t answer, you just kiss him again, harder this time.

He lifts you up without warning, making you yelp against his mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him like you’ll never let go again.

Ace carries you, half-stumbling, back toward the ship. Neither of you cares who sees. The crew’s probably still too drunk to notice anyway.

He doesn’t even make it to your room. He pushes you up against the first wall he finds, kissing you like he’s starving.

Your hands fumble at his open shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. His skin is burning hot under your touch, like he’s made of fire.

Ace groans again, mouth trailing down your neck, teeth scraping lightly at your skin.

“God, I missed you” he breathes against your throat.

You grip his hair, pulling his head up to look at you “Then show me.”

His eyes darken, full of heat and something deeper, something that feels a lot like love.

Ace kisses you again, slower this time, but just as hungry. His hands roam your body, careful and rough all at once.

You lose yourself in him.

In his touch.

In his heat.

In him.

“Fuck” Ace breathes against your mouth. His hands move lower, squeezing your ass, lifting you up without warning.

You gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, locking yourself to him. You can feel him, hard against you, even through your clothes.

Your hands fumble at the few buttons left of his shirt, pushing it fully off his shoulders. His skin is hot, burning under your fingers.

You run your hands over his chest, nails scraping lightly. Ace shivers under your touch, eyes dark and wild.

He grabs the hem of your shirt and tugs “Off. Now.”

You lift your arms and let him yank it over your head. The cool night air kisses your skin, but Ace’s hands are warmer. His palms slide up your sides, thumbs brushing over your breasts through your bra, making you shudder.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful” he whispers, voice rough like gravel.

You kiss him again, messy and hungry. Ace’s mouth trails down your neck, licking and biting, leaving marks he knows you’ll see later.

“Need you,” he groans against your skin “Need you so bad.”

You clutch his hair, dragging his head back up to kiss you again.

“Then take me” you whisper.

That’s all he needs.

Ace pins you harder against the wall, one hand slipping down between your bodies, his fingers brush over your panties, pressing just enough to make your hips jerk forward.

You whimper into his mouth.

Ace chuckles darkly “So needy.”

Now you shove his pants down too, hands greedy. His skin is hot everywhere. When you finally touch him properly, Ace groans so deep it vibrates against your chest.

He kisses you again, desperate, messy, almost too much.

Almost.

Ace pauses, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“Tell me you want this” he says, voice shaking.

You look him straight in the eyes “I want you, Ace. Always.”

With a low growl, he pushes into you, filling you all at once. You both moan at the feeling.

It’s messy, rushed, raw... years of love and pain and need crashing together.

Ace moves fast, hips snapping against yours, hands holding you like you’re his whole world. You bury your face in his neck, biting down to muffle your cries.

When you finally fall apart in his arms, crying out his name, Ace follows right after, holding you so tight it almost hurts.

But you don’t care. You never want him to let go again.

You don’t know how long you stay wrapped around each other against the wall.

Time blurs. Your body is weak, trembling, but you don’t care. You only feel his skin against yours, his arms around you, his breath warm on your neck.

He sets you down gently, like you’re something precious.

You cling to his shoulders a second longer, legs shaky. Ace kisses your forehead, soft and slow, so different from the way he kissed you before.

“Come here” he murmurs.

He scoops you up again, carrying you bridal. You bury your face against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat pounding fast under your ear.

Ace carries you up to your shared room on the ship.

He kicks the door open with his foot, laughing softly when you squeak in surprise.

“Relax” he says, voice teasing but full of love.

He lays you down on the bed carefully, following you down, covering your body with his.

You shiver, even though you’re not cold.

Ace notices. He grabs a blanket, pulling it over both of you before wrapping his arms tight around you again.

For a while, neither of you says anything. You just breathe together in the dark, feeling each other’s warmth.

Then, quietly, Ace speaks “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.

He looks wrecked, like he’s scared you’ll leave again.

You touch his face gently “I’m sorry too.”

Ace leans into your hand, kissing your palm. Then he says it... so soft you almost don’t hear.

“I love you.”

Your heart stutters.

You blink up at him. His cheeks are pink, his eyes shining like he’s terrified and hopeful all at once.

You smile, a real one this time.

“I love you too, Ace.”

He lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been holding it forever. Then he kisses you again, slow and deep, hands sliding up and down your back under the blanket.

“Never leaving you again,” he mumbles against your lips “Even if you try to kick me out.”

You giggle, nuzzling closer “Good. ’Cause I’m not letting you go either.”

Ace grins, that wide, stupid smile you fell in love with.

He tucks your head under his chin and hugs you tighter. You feel his whole body relax against yours, like he’s finally home.

You drift off to sleep in his arms, warm, safe, and loved.

For the first time in what feels like forever, everything is right again.

The sun slips through the curtains, warm and soft.

You groan, trying to roll over but you can’t move.

Ace has you trapped, one heavy arm around your waist, one leg thrown over yours, face buried in your neck. He’s snoring softly, breath tickling your skin.

You squirm a little “Ace… let me go, it’s hot.”

“No,” he mumbles, voice hoarse with sleep “Mine.”

You laugh under your breath, heart full. You poke his cheek “We need to get up. The crew’s gonna notice.”

Ace groans dramatically “Let them.”

He tightens his arms around you like a giant, overgrown koala.

You sigh, smiling. You’re not really trying to escape anyway.

There’s a loud bang against the door.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Thatch shouts from outside “You alive in there, or did you die from all the action last night?”

You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Ace groans louder and buries his face deeper against you.

“Go away!” he yells toward the door, voice muffled against your neck.

Another bang.

“We’re takin’ bets if you both can even walk after what you did!” Marco’s voice adds, laughing.

Your face burns hot. You shove your head under the blanket, groaning.

Ace chuckles low against you, his hand sneaking under your shirt again, teasing circles into your hip.

“They’re just jealous” he murmurs.

You peek out from the blanket, raising an eyebrow “Jealous of what?”

Ace smirks lazily, looking like the smug bastard he is.

“Because I’ve got the most beautiful girl in the world… and she’s all mine.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to melt, but you can’t stop smiling.

Another loud bang.

“Seriously! Breakfast’s getting cold! Unless you two are planning to eat each other instead—”

“WE’RE COMING!” you yell back, red-faced.

Ace snickers, clearly very pleased with himself.

You grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it. But even then, he just grins wider, grabbing you around the waist again, dragging you down into the bed with him.

“Five more minutes,” he begs, voice soft against your ear “Please.”

You sigh dramatically, but you don’t move.

Maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe forever wouldn’t either.

[rafesslxt]

uhh i ate this up

[rafesslxt]

Heyyy, I was wondering if I could request a mattheo riddle, Theodore nott or rafe Cameron smut where they do it while being high together 🤭😝

i wrote a story like that about mattheo a while ago! <3

You can read it here!

[yuunarii-arii]

INTRODUCING THE SLYTHERIN BOYS WITH THEIR GODLY PARENT

yuna's voicemail - HI YES I AM NOT DEAD! Huzzah! Here is my headcanons of the Slytherin Boys' cabins and godly parents! I will later create individual headcanons for each of them! Thank you to @govnder and @nottsnymph for helping me break down the characteristcs of the boys, so I can choose their godly parents! Thanks to duda, y'all are gonna get Poseidon's son!Theo!

Draco Malfoy - Son of Zeus

Draco Malfoy made sure that every living breathing thing on the earth’s soil knew he was a son of Zeus. Young Draco was the pride of the Malfoy lineage, being the only child to have coursing godly blood through his veins and be born an heir to the family. And without a doubt, gain the title as Voldemort’s servant, which was expected and demanded by Lucius Malfoy.

Draco was raised to look down upon others, no one was to mess with him, or challenge their rights against him. However, that didn’t stop the young blond from thinking otherwise, he had a wish to converse and make friends just as any other child did. However, Draco only knew how to demand attention, because the son of the Malfoy estate and of the ruler of Olympus should only receive—that is exactly how he was raised, taught to take and never give back.

Malfoy felt inferior to other children of Zeus, afraid that he would come out as second, end up labeled as the useless child if he didn’t do better. You would never find Draco and his half brother, Cedric, in the same room chatting it up; he hated that golden boy fool more than anything, couldn’t stand how that achiever made everyone proud.

Little did Draco know that he would soon be faced with someone he hated even more as his next half-brother.

Draco’s Detailed Individual Headcanons (coming soon…)

Blaise Zabini - Son of Demeter

Blaise Zabini, he was a quiet man, intelligent, and perceptively watchful. He was the son of Demeter—the goddess of fertility and agriculture—Blaise was known to be calm and acted as a safe space for his friends, even getting them out of trouble when they snooped in the wrong places.

Blaise never communicated nor had a proper relationship with his father or godly parent. His birth mother being Demeter and his father a human consort, and not long after he was born did his father send him to his ex wife, Francesca Zabini, the notorious husband killer.

Not much was known about Blaise’s father after that, some say he found a place to hide away, others say that he was missing and quite possibly murdered. However, no substantial evidence to prove any of these claims, all we knew was that the man was generous enough to leave mounds of gold to Mrs. Zabini.

Blaise’s Detailed Headcanons (coming soon…)

Tom Riddle - Son of Hades

He was a spitting of Voldemort during his prime despite being a son of Hades. Tom Riddle, the older half-brother of Mattheo Riddle, son of a god, and raised by a human monster.

The first heir of Slytherin to be born by the ruler of the underworld, the king of the dead; Hades himself saw potential in Voldemort's plan, intersecting the world of death and purebloods together would bring about true power, the offer was nothing but tempting.

That was where young Tom entered the scene, striding through the hallways of Hogwarts, a sense of governing and authority was absorbed in his eyes. He knew who he was, why he was here, and the power he held. No mere mortal could stand by him in comparison.

Tom and his younger brother were sent to the Malfoy’s at the age of ten, left to the cold embrace of the castle while his father had disappeared. Untraceable. Though, Tom knew better than to believe the soft hearted public and their desire for peace, Lord Voldemort was bound to be unleashed once more, whether they were prepared for his havoc or not.

Tom’s Detailed Individual Headcanons (coming soon…)

Theodore Nott - Son of Poseidon

Theodore Nott, a young man with a strained past. He was like oil in water, unable to mix with the rest of the young students his age, not until he scooped himself out and found a silent background to become a part of. Theodore buried his emotions underneath layers of anguish and self-loathing that accumulated from the years following his mother’s tragic death.

He was an offspring of Poseidon, and a weapon that his step–father had planned to use for his heinous crimes. Many pure-bloods desired to have a child bearing a Greek god’s blood, and so Thadeus Nott presented his wife, Alessandra, as a gift to the ruler of the seas; not long after did she return with an infant boy in her arms, the striking sea coloured orbs faint but evident in his newborn eyes.

Despite Theo’s inability to express his feelings like other children of the sea god, his emotions raged like a storming tidal wave, and had one decided to foolishly mess with the young man or any of his loved ones, they would bear witness to what truly means to be a son of Poseidon.

Theodore’s Detailed Headcanons (coming soon…)

Mattheo Riddle - Son of Ares

Mattheo Riddle, unlike his brother, was filled with raw saturated emotion. His soul was controlled by anger and a fear of losing everything he has or could have had.

Mattheo was the son of Ares, born from his mentally insane mother, and branded as the branch to aid the death eaters in the coming war. Just as Thadeus Nott followed his Lord, Voldemort was the first to bear a child of divine worth, starting with his eldest Tom while Mattheo was born not long after.

Carrying the darkness of his ‘father’ and blood of the god of war granted him a title that drenched in power. His name alone struck fear in the souls of wizards, witches, and governours alike. Yet despite his name and regardless of his blood and power—Mattheo was the one who feared—he feared to become the one thing he was expected to be, and he hides behind walls of anger and violence, hoping that no one saw a scared boy underneath.

Mattheo’s Detailed Headcanons (coming soon…)

Lorenzo Berkshire - Son of Dionysus

From Lorenzo Berkshire’s personality alone, one would assume him to be a son of Aphrodite, or quite possibly a child of Hermes. All assumptions are very accurate to the young man’s provocative persona and golden smile; Aphrodite especially matched his attractive features and sugar-coated tongue. However, there was another place for him, one that suited his all-rounded nature, his desire to party like the night was young, and his enjoyment playing with the hearts of many like a jester and his pawns.

Lorenzo was a son of Dionysus. The god of wine, festivity, and of the intense spiritual ecstasy that is blessed upon mortals, an euphoric sensation for the mortals whom desired and yearned for the connection to the divine above.

Before Enzo grew to be the person he was today, many weren’t sure how they felt with Dionysus claiming the boy. He was still a bundle of curiosity and a mischief maker, but little did they know that he would grow to be quite like his father, if not more cunning and manipulative. Similarly to Theodore, Enzo’s mother was given as an offering to Dionysus, an act to higher the status of wizarding aristocracy, another way to bring honour to a family of purebloods; and with a godly newborn, Charles Berkshire could boast and guffaw all he wished as his son was of divine descent.

Lorenzo’s Detailed Headcanons (coming soon…)

©yuunari-arii 2026. All works & moodboards posted under my name belong to me. Please do not copy, claim, republish, or translate my work anywhere else.

[rafesslxt]

they fit so so goood and such a cool idea too!

[rafesslxt]

i think i wanna write some hp again? but just some short stuff with a few hundred words so send request if you‘d like!

i write for; mattheo riddle, theodore nott, tom riddle &‘ enzo berkshire

smut, fluff and angst are welcome! or something funny if u have an idea

xoxo sarah <3

[rafesslxt]

THIS REMINDS ME OF WINX CLUB AND IM DIGGING IT

🥇Flora ✨💓

[rafesslxt]

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

x mechanic!JJ ꩜ gf!kook!reader

·˚ ༘ words:

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: JJ is working part-time as a mechanic in his backyard, completley forgetting the needs of his wonderful and so patient girlfriend

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: smut, dirty hands, sweat, p in v, reader takes the pill, raw, breeding kink, dry humping, riding, nicknames like "sweetheart" and "peach"

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: did i just finish and upload a new post after 6 months? wow. [I like it but I‘m not that happy with the spicy part. Hm.]

𝓙ay J could hear your bare feet getting closer and closer, seeing them when he turned his head to the side. Toes always painted in that pretty white, matching your french acrylic nails.

He currently laid under a car some kook boy broke a day ago, his daddy going mad if he would find out so that‘s why he let JJ look over it. It kind of was his new reputation now. All thanks to you.

When a friend of yours shattered her door window, you told JJ about it and he of course wanted to help a friend of yours like the nice boyfriend he is. When your friend gave JJ some good money for it too, you got the idea.

So now all the kook kids came to him after stupid races or drunken drives. Usually he wouldn‘t care about their problems but hey.. the money was good and he had no interest in snitching on them.

You walked over to him, only seeing him from his hips down, his dirty jeans covered in oil and something black you didn‘t have a clue what it was. He was shirtless, you were able to see his v-line thanks to him wearing no belt today.

"When are you taking a break?" Your soft voice sounds sweet but not like usual. It sounded more.. pushy and needy. It was already the third time you came outside to ask him that same question. JJ always answered "I’m almost done, sweetheart.", but he could hear it in your voice how impatient you got, demanding his full attention now.

"I‘m really almost done, I swear. Just need to secure something." "Ugh, I wish I never told them about my handsome boyfriend fixing cars." You pout, sitting down on his lap. "Well - no fancy dates without that money." Even tho he couldn‘t see, he knew you rolled your eyes at that. "Your girlfriend is a kook who can pay, you know.. like I did before."

"Hmm and your broke pogue boyfriend is very thankful for that." When he felt you scooting up a bit on his lap, now sitting directly on his crotch, he looked down on himself.

You couldn‘t see it but he bit down on his bottom lip, noticing your pretty tights on his dirty jeans. You wore one of his way too big shirts he loved so much on you, together with some white lace panties.

He looked back up, continuing with his work. The faster he was ready, the sooner he could spend his time with you. But it was easier said than done when he felt your pretty manicured hands on his tights now, running them slowly up and down. "What are you doing, peach?"

A nickname he had for you when he got nervous. The first time he felt like that was when Sarah introduced you to the group on a sunny beach day where you bought some peaches in a little basket as a gift for them.

He later watched you like the perv he his, shameless licking his lips at how your plump lips wrapped themselves around the fuzzy peach, before taking a bite, sweet juice dripping down your chin and onto your decoltee.

"Nothing, just taking a seat since you‘re taking so long.", you say in that way too innocent voice. "Uh - huh, don‘t start distracting me peach or it will take even longer." He said it in a warning voice but you chose to not listen to him like usual. Why would you, after he wouldn‘t give you what you needed the most right now by himself?

Your hands wandered up a little higher, slowly, your long nails scraping against his dirty jeans and sending little jolts through him. JJ didn‘t say anything. He didn‘t want you to continue, but he also did not want you to stop.

He faltered under the car when your hands found his semi hard dick under his jeans, slowly massaging him through the rough material. God, you drove him crazy with a snap of your fingers, always.

He took a shaky breath when your fingers found his zipper, slowly pulling it down, opening his pants. "I want you to keep working JJ, while I ride you." "While you what?"

He automatically raised his hips when you tugged on his jeans to pull them down together with his boxershorts. "Yeah, you heard right. I‘m gonna take what I need, since my so busy boyfriend can‘t give it to me by himself."

Your hand wraps itself around his hard shaft, precum glistening on his tip. "Shit." You gently moved your hand up and down in the same rhythm you started to grind your covered pussy on his leg.

JJ tried to concentrate, taking another deep breath before he kept working on the car, trying as hard as he could not to moan.

You let go of his hard cock, letting it snap back against his abdomen. "C‘mon baby, don‘t be a tease.", your boyfriends murmured from under the car, his arms starting to tremble too. "Me teasing? You were the one who was letting me wait, tz."

You lifted your hips and pushed the fabric seperatimg you two away, grinding flesh on flesh.

"Oh fuck, put it in baby, please." JJ‘s chest started to rise faster, his bottom lip almost bleeding from the constant biting. He looked down at himself, not able to keep working at the sight of your sweet pussy grinding on his aching cock.

God did he regret not fucking you earlier. He let go of his tools and grabbed your hips, smearing oil and grease from the car on his shirt. With one swing he rolled from under the car on the creeper he laid on, his upper body now visible for you too.

A grin spread across your face as you finally saw his handsome face. You put your hands on his sweaty chest, letting them glide down the lenght of his body while your nails scratched his tanned skin.

JJ grinded up against you, groaning at the friction. "Don‘t you want it too?" You chuckled, lifting your hips again and grabbing the trunk of the car to hold yourself up. JJ took his dick in his hand, positioning his tip against your entrance.

You slowly sank down, biting down on your bottom lip. Your head fell backwards, mouth falling open. "Hmm Jay J. You feel so good." He bends his legs, stabilizing himself on the creeper with his boots against the ground. He grabbed your hips but now under his shirt, lifting you up and down on him.

"Oh yes, yes!", you moaned loudly, jumping up and down on his now wet cock, moving your hips in circles. The creeper moved beneath you two, adding to the wild movement of your hips.

He suddenly grabs your neck, pulling you flat down against his body. "Fuck me baby, let it all out." His lips crash against yours in a hurry, moving passionate against yours before they wander further down to your jaw, nipping on the skin there. His voice is rough, his hands moving up towards your breasts, massaging them clumsily.

One of your hands found your clit, rubbing it in desperate circles. "I‘m close, JJ, I‘m close.", you whimpered into the crook of his neck. "Already?" A dark chuckle left his mouth and one of his hands wrapped around your troath, slightly pressing the sides with the perfect pressure to make your head dizzy.

"Fuck", he rasps, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly. "Hmm fuck me baby, please I wanna come. I need this so bad." Your needy voice filled the air, pure sin to your boyfriends ears.

He pressed his lips against yours again, groaning against them. "Come for me, sweetheart." He grabbed your hips and suddenly started to thrust up into you in a rapid and hard rhythm, holding your upper body down against him.

The sound of skin against skin echoed through the air, unmistakable the sound of sins for everyone coming near by to hear loud and clearly.

"Oh-s-shit JJ, fuck I‘m coming." Your voice sounded high, your eyes squeezed shut when a sudden warmth explodes inside of your tummy, your mouth going dry and your head dizzy.

When JJ felt your wet walls squeeze him in tight, he groaned loudly, moving even faster than before, eager to come himself. "Shit, where do you want me? Where do you want me to come baby?" His voice sounded urgent, trying to hold back.

You lazily smiled against his chest before you lifted your lips to his ear. "Come inside me. Fill me up." "Urghh.." He threw his head back and arched his back, his eyes rolling back towards his brain. "You want me to come inside you baby? Want me to fill you up, put a baby in you?" God, he was so close.

A whisper made him finally snap. "Breed me, Jay J. Want that hot sticky cum inside me." His jaw fell down to the ground at your dirty words, his hips snapping up one final time, his abs clenching when he finally shoots his warm cum inside of your pulsing cunt.

"OH - fuck!" He holds you still against him, pumping rope after rope inside of you, not letting a single drop going to waste. "Fucking hell.." Jay J‘s out of breath, his eyes still closed. "I‘m so fucking done.." A giggle leaves your lips, kissing up and down his troath.

Tag: @hotvampdragongurl @urmomluvsmemore

xoxo sarah <3

[rafesslxt]

Ya‘ll ready for mechanic!JJ x kook!reader ? 👀

READ HERE

should I post? I‘m thinking about what time ?

[rafesslxt]

new blog- theme hehe <3 💓🫧🪞✨

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ homemade

➤ summary: after Rafe invited you to stay at Tannyhill, he wasn't expecting to find you in the kitchen wearing one of his shirts, barefoot and cooking dinner just for him ➤ w/c: 1.7k ➤ warnings: just fluff, softie rafe, a bit suggestive at the end

masterlist taglist

Rafe’s body sagged against the front door as soon as he closed it and was finally separated from the outside world. The day was shit. He couldn’t wait to get back home, now especially that you were staying over at Tannyhill for some time. 

Sarah had gone away to live with the Pogues, Wheezie went to a summer camp she’d been bugging everyone about for ages, and Ward and Rose had gone on a work trip slash vacation for an unannounced period of time. So the moment Rafe found out about it, he called you, basically begging you to stay with him and keep him company. Partly because he hated that place and didn’t want to hear that weird quietness, and partly because recently you were the only consistent thing on his mind and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be all over you. 

You didn’t protest too much, because who would’ve? Living with your boyfriend, who was overly excited about your presence, in his gigantic house and using all of Kook’s privileges—basically, it was a dream come true. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open after a moment. The usual eerie silence of the place and weird emptiness were nonexistent now, with you enveloping it in your comfort, and something deep and warm pooled in his chest at that realization. The soft music was coming in from somewhere, the low lights were on, and… God, the smell made him salivate. 

He slowly moved towards the kitchen, eyes catching on your stuff scattered here and there like you had already claimed the place. Rafe was more surprised than anything when he walked in and saw it all—a few cutting boards with herbs, pans sizzling with something that smelled and looked like heaven, and the dining table already prepared with candles, fresh flowers, and plates for two people. And in the middle of it all, you—hair up, a random t-shirt of his, and shorts that barely peeked from under the hem. You were barefoot, moving around the large room like it was your usual routine. Like you had done it a hundred times.

Your head snapped up when you felt Rafe’s presence, a bit startled and nervous under his gaze, because he was looking as if you had grown two heads, standing there with an unreadable look in his eyes. You debated cooking him a dinner since the moment he invited you, as a small “thank you” gesture, yet you were still a bit shy to boss around. But when he left that morning, kissing you goodbye with the sappiest and warmest smile on his face, told you that it was your place as well as his, you thought it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hi.” You came forward and quickly pecked Rafe’s lips, then moved back towards the stove. “Um, I hope you don’t mind that I cooked… a little bit?” You threw a guilty look around the whole kitchen, which now looked a bit messy, and then back at Rafe. “You’re having me here, and I thought you would probably be hungry after the whole day, and I wanted to make something good for you.” 

Make something good for him. Those words echoed in his head a few times, sounding a bit weird, as he tried to understand how he was supposed to react. 

“You cooked for me?” Rafe finally asked, setting his phone and keys down on a stuff-free counter, moving further into the room with eyes wide and mouth watering from the smell.

“Yes?” You smiled awkwardly, briefly turning back to stir something in the pan. He looked over, seeing that the liquid bubbled softly there, making the whole room smell like tomatoes with something that seemed like onions and garlic. Rafe swallowed just from the thought. 

“I don’t remember the last time I ate homemade food.” He admitted softly. Your shoulders relaxed at that, finally understanding the reason for his weird and frozen facial expression. You came closer to Rafe again, standing on your tiptoes and bumping your nose against his playfully, making him smirk. “Fuck, it smells amazing.” His hands settled on your waist briefly, squeezing it until you moved back again, slicing something on the board.

“I wanted to spoil you a bit.” You laughed, as his soft and shy smile matched yours. “Go wash your hands and change. Everything’s gonna be ready in ten minutes.” 

Exactly ten minutes later he came back downstairs, changed into the sweats and simple black t-shirt. The table was already served. The steaming plates with fresh pasta, beef, because you knew that Rafe couldn’t eat without meat, tomato sauce you made from scratch, and still crunchy garlic bread were sitting perfectly on your plates. You stood near the table with an anticipating and nervous smile. 

Rafe pulled out the chair for you, then sat across from you at the table, with the biggest grin on his face as he looked down at the steaming food. All while you just observed him—the way candlelight danced across his face, the soft look in his eyes—when all you could feel were nerves curling in your belly.

“It looks so good.” He said, looking up at you and making you wonder whether he meant food or you. 

“It’s just some pasta…” You shrugged, feeling way too flushed because of his reaction. 

“You did it all for me. And you didn’t have to. But—fuck, it’s so much better than any catering bullshit Rose orders here, or whatever the hell I'm trying to cook for myself.” 

“You don’t…cook?” You asked carefully, head softly tilted to the side with that curious look. 

Rafe shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I can…sort of? But it’s usually just throwing whatever I have in the oven or half burning it on the stove.” 

Your eyes softened, and you didn’t answer anything to his words. You nodded towards his plate invitingly, and Rafe didn’t have to be told twice. He dug in, getting a forkful of spaghetti and moaning at the taste the moment it hit his taste buds. The fork clinked against the plate as he threw it down, sinking back on the chair and chewing with his eyes closed. 

Your own fork froze in the air while you looked at him, stunned. “Good?” You laughed, observing his reaction and unable to hide your smile. 

“Good?” He repeated, eyes now narrowed at you. “That’s the best fucking food I’ve ever tasted.” Rafe pulled himself back up, taking more of the pasta and not caring that it was steaming and partly burning his mouth. Then he took a crunchy, heavenly-smelling and looking garlic bread and bit one-third of it in one go. 

You giggled, finally tasting the food yourself, nodding in approval at your own skills, because yeah, you were good. You twirled the pasta slowly around your fork, still smiling at how dramatically he was reacting, while Rafe ate silently—hungry, grateful, and satisfied. 

“You’re gonna make me blush if you keep groaning like that every time you eat my food.”

He looked up at you sheepishly, chewing and wiping the remains of the sauce that got on his lips. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the way his shoulders relaxed as he silently reached for your hand over the table. 

“This—Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby. I just can’t help it.” You smiled shyly, squeezing his hand in yours. “You didn’t have to do all that, really. But I’m grateful.”

Your nose prickled slightly at the sincerity in his voice. “I just wanted you to have something good when you come home.”

This easy you made his heart swell with something so foreign for him, it almost hurt. Rafe’s throat bobbled nervously when he nodded once, twice, eyes darting between your face and his plate. He didn’t have any words, so he just pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a soft and delicate kiss against your knuckles. And for you it was enough. 

The rest of the meal was like that—easy, quiet with only faint music in the background and slight teasing from you when Rafe asked for more. Then, he was slumped on the chair, legs spread wide and hands resting on his stomach like he had more than his body was able to handle. But that smile, that satisfied and happy grin on his face, made your own heart flutter with joy. 

By the time you stood up to clean up the mess, his eyes followed you, not wanting for you to go further away from him than was necessary and having that look that made you think he was now craving dessert of a very different kind. And then when you came closer to take his plate, his hand shot up to stop you. 

“Leave it.” He stood up, hovering over you. Rafe’s hands wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer despite your protesting groan. 

“I have to clean it up, Rafe.” You smiled when he shook his head no, eyes all soft and pleased. 

“You did so good, baby. That was perfect. Everything is perfect about you.” 

“Yeah? I wanted to bake something tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I gotta say thank you for having me here.” Rafe groaned again, his head going down to bury his face in your neck. 

“I don’t fucking mind. Whatever you want. The pastry is good. I’ll eat everything my amazing girlfriend cooks for me.” You hummed to his words. “Leave the dishes,” he mumbled again into your hair. “I’ll deal with them later. Right now I just wanna be with you.”

You tilted your head up, smiling. “Romantic. And here I thought you only got sappy after sex.”

Rafe huffed a laugh, but his hands slid lower, gripping your hips and bringing your body flush against his. “Keep talking like that and we’re not making it upstairs.”

You looped your arms around his neck, rising on your toes to kiss him—slow at first, then deeper when he groaned against your mouth. Rafe’s hands sneaked under your shirt to slide the palms of his hands over your silky skin, making you drag him closer and closer until there was barely any space left. 

“Maybe the dishes can wait a little longer.”

tags: @buzzingbey @liyahhhh620 @rafeismyking @rafessbaby @bebebambs @obxfx @hazzarules @rafesslut @lotuslovers @rafespeach @simp4norris @disaster-rose @kc2sstuff @ivy-34 @chloe156 @snh650 @r0vena @shytypeaq @broadwayking728 @thatgurlthatlivesinkansas777 @magicalyoura1 @kaysedanae @solaceluna @dabaddestfatty @isabellatb1234 @leisocool @sexyperfhothumble @bonesofall @rafeeekam @ssugartalkin @lozthevicky @skankhvnt42 @brat0arc @superlegend216 @drewstrkygf @iheartduster @drewstarkeyswife-7 @paankhaleyaaar @simp4f1 @anilovessadbooks @fdl305 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @heathandrewstarkey @loveislikeathunder

[rafesslxt]

i love me some softy rafe 😪

[govnder]

𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓.

theodore nott—mentioned a few times canonically in the harry potter books as a friend of draco malfoy, popularly known at hogwarts simply as “nott.”

full name: theodore nott.

hogwarts house: slytherin.

origin: born in rome, raised in england. he speaks english fluently, but considers italian his first language.

mother: phoena nott, formerly phoena vitale. ravenclaw. raised in rome, phoena carried her origins with her wherever her feet touched. she married christian nott, a close friend of lucius malfoy, and conceived theodore in sicily.

⤷ status: deceased; killed by an unforgivable curse cast by her husband.

father: christian nott, or nott sr. slytherin. raised in london, he is a major businessman in the wizarding world and a blood supremacist. a close friend of the malfoy family—just as his father had been—and a loyal follower and helper of lord voldemort. he is part of the sacred 28 and the head of one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world.

⤷ status: alive.

• no siblings; theodore is an only child. phoena faced difficulties becoming pregnant and almost died during theodore’s birth. from the day she heard her son’s tiny cry, she decided she would not risk another child, fearing it might take her away from the little bundle of light she had given her life for. christian, on the other hand, also had no interest in having another kid, since his heir’s heart was already beating healthily and the risk of a girl being born was far too great for his liking. thus, theodore was the couple’s first and last child.

• other relatives: he has an aunt, phoena’s sister, and a paternal grandmother, but he has no contact with either of them. in the case of his aunt, distance kept them apart; in the case of his grandmother, the old woman gave him chills. he had other distant relatives, but lost all rare contact with them after his mother passed.

— 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

— theodore’s hair is a light shade of brown that fall in soft, restless waves. his build is lean, though there is a reticent strength beneath it. theo's eyes are striking above all else: predominantly grey, an inheritance from his father, yet scattered with small flecks of the exact sky-blue that once belonged to phoena. their shape tilts slightly upward at the corners, giving them a naturally sharp look, though they are half-lidded, heavy with the air of someone perpetually sleep-deprived; some describe them as hunter eyes. dark circles rest beneath them, evidence of too many thoughtful & sleepless nights, though they only deepen the charm he carries.

— his facial features are sharp and defined, with an aristocratic nose and a cutting jawline, the architecture of a face that mirrors his christian’s almost perfectly, only softened by youth. there is a mole on his left cheek, just beside his eye, identical to the one his mother had at the corner of her mouth. unfortunately for him, but fortunately for everyone around him who could not possibly deny his beauty, theodore was the spitting image of his father. the same nose, the same eyes, the same keen jawline, the same strands of hair, as if someone had simply pressed the elder nott’s features into a younger mold.

— nott stands at around six feet and one inch tall (1.85m); his body is slender, making him an easy target for bullying in kindergarten. as the springs passed, quidditch practices and quiet hours spent training gave him muscles in the right places, shaping him into a lithe and undeniably strong figure. his legs are well-toned—theodore is not the type to skip leg day —and his arms are perfectly defined. a faint six-pack lies across his abdomen, though unlike mattheo, he rarely makes a spectacle of it. his skin is stubbornly pale and he rarely tans, even after long summers spent beneath the italian sun. theodore is a creature of the night and not particularly fond of sunny days, holding a steady preference for rainy, cloudy, or foggy weather. once, a girl remarked that he and draco looked like two corpses because of how pale they were; theodore had only allowed the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth in response.

— 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 (tw: drugs, grief, daddy issues.)

friendships.

— his inner circle is composed of blaise zabini, mattheo riddle, draco malfoy, and lorenzo berkshire.

blaise zabini: theodore’s earliest friendship belonged to blaise, before they ever stepped feet in hogwarts. ariadne zabini, blaise's mother, often stayed at nott manor, as mrs. zabini was phoena’s closest friend. the two women spent endless afternoons together, wandering to hogsmeade, sharing endless cups of tea, and even joined a book club side by side; this naturally resulted in a strong bond between the boys. theo and blaise grew up in the comfortable chaos of childhood companionship: shared toys (that would always end up scattered across the marble floors—poor house elves, who always had to clean up their mess), watched horror movies they definitely shouldn’t have been watching—sometimes films that were far from appropriate for their age, more than aware of the trouble that would wait for them in case ariadne or phoena barged in; took turns sleeping over at each other’s houses, and orchestrated countless childish pranks that left their mothers utterly exasperated, in the brink of despair.

even though time reshaped the dynamic of their friendships and theo is now closer to mattheo and blaise gravitated towards draco and lorenzo, the bond between them remains incredibly strong—they still share secrets and vulnerabilities, still find interest in the same things, and occasionally theodore can be found at ariadne’s manor, updating her on the events of his life while she listens with the same fondness she once reserved for the small boy who ran laughing through her halls.

mattheo riddle: theodore met mattheo on their first day at hogwarts, and whatever invisible thread connects kindred spirits seemed to tighten instantly between them. being the son of the man his father idolized, mattheo could have drawn theodore in for that reason alone—but that could not be more far from the reason why he did. instead, theo saw a boy who carried wounds that mirrored his own, someone who had learned, just as he had, to wear a mask before the world could notice the cracks beneath it. they were drawn toward each other the way moths are drawn to flame, and from that moment forward, they became inseparable.

they tried marijuana together for the first time. attended to their first party together. stumbled through their first drunken nights side by side. shared girls together… the list of their experiences was endless. it was often said, half in jest, that they were partners in crime: where there was fire—mattheo—there was smoke—theodore. yet, beneath the recklessness lived something far deeper. mattheo came from an extremely difficult family, and the emptiness inside him often threatened to swallow him whole—until theodore pulled him back to reality, to the solid ground. the same was true for theo; when the claws of grief tore too deeply, mattheo arrived with cotton and bandages. the two were brothers, elysian mates, and no amount of sorrow, hatred, or divine force could ever loosen the bond that tied them together. both were only teenagers, yet when they stood side by side, it felt as though they were bound by blood.

draco malfoy & lorenzo berkshire: theodore loved them, but merlin help him, they could be insufferable. draco and lorenzo were the most similar within the group, both prone to throwing fits when things didn’t go as planned, both extremely materialistic and emotionally irresponsible. theodore and draco grew up together thanks to the strong bond between christian and lucius, but truthfully, they were never as close as theo and blaise; honestly, theodore had this silent demur towards malfoy because, in his mind, becoming close to him would also make him close to becoming like the man he despised, who shared an older malfoy as a friend. they were good friends, but simply didn't have much in common.

don’t get me wrong—lorenzo was an incredibly entertaining company, and draco could give surprisingly good advice when he wanted to. it was simply that their strong and distinct personalities occasionally clashed in a too small of a space. that didn’t mean theodore wouldn’t step in front of a wand to save them, and vice versa. it was just that, like in any group of friends, some bonds run deeper than others.

family.

christian nott: nott sr.’s relationship with his son is the most troubled, fractured bond you will ever encounter. christian was raised under the harsh and conservative authority of a man who believed cruelty was discipline and tenderness a flaw, and that philosophy shaped the way he approached fatherhood. his own father had always been rude and severe, insisting that men must never cry, that weakness must be burned away and that survival belonged only to the hard. theodore hated the way his father treated both him and phoena, and it was this hatred that pushed the boy closer to his mother, clinging to the warmth she offered as though his life depended on it. the older theodore harbors a pure, genuine hatred for his father; disgust would be the mildest, gentlest word for it. after all, it had been christian’s wand that took the most precious person in theodore’s life. a cruel cruciatus, cast under the grotesque justification of strengthening his son, of ensuring he would not grow into a weak man. theo would forever remember the disturbing image of his mother collapsed upon the persian carpet in one of the grand rooms of the nott manor. now older, now painfully aware of the world’s cruelties, he understands what he hadn’t fully grasped as a child: his father was rotten to the core.

phoena nott: the ultimate mama’s boy. theodore idolized his mother in life, and now idolizes her spirit in death. she is, always was, and always will be everything to him. theodore will never forget the many afternoons spent learning italian with her—her patient voice, tinged with a gentle accent, teaching him everything from numbers and colors then later entire phrases and curious neologisms that made him laugh. the memory of her introducing him to the kitchen—now one of theo’s favorite hobbies—still accompanies him before he falls asleep. he recalls how she would guide his small hands through recipes and flavors that would one day become one of his greatest comforts. merlin, how he missed her. when phoena passed away, it was as if a piece of him died with her. depression consumed the eight-year-old boy, swallowed by a grief too large for a child to carry. years have passed since that moment. the wound has never fully closed. the only solace theodore allows himself is the hope that somewhere, she is still watching over him.

because he had borne witness to the terrible and cruel passing of his mother, theodore discovered at the age of fourteen that he possessed the rare ability to see thestrals, after wandering into the forbidden forest in the late hours. he would always remember the shock that washed him when the gaunt, phantasmagoric creature emerged before his eyes, its skeletal frame and dark, leathery wings unlike anything he had ever seen, though he quickly recalled hagrid’s lesson about such beings. and still, a foolish, almost soft thought lingered in the back of his mind: had his mother sent it to him as a silent way of saying hello from the other side?

— 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 (tw: grief, mention of age gap, mommy & daddy issues, alcohol, drugs, anger issues, depression, mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts.)

✴︎ theodore has a more closed-off and inward-turned nature, preferring his own solitude to the presence of others. having lost his mother far too early and been left in the care of a father who was, at best, abhorrent, theodore learned to appreciate his own company, perhaps sooner than any child should. after all, blaise was not always there to keep him company, nor was ariadne to bake the most delicious english biscuits he had ever tasted.

he possesses an introspective and introverted personality, and even though his treacherous mind often harms him, crowding his thoughts with self-destructive whispers, theodore still prefers that to spending long hours socializing. it is almost as if he has found a strange sort of comfort within his own melancholy, and whenever he spends too long in someone’s presence, he can feel his social battery draining away like water from a cracked vessel; even mattheo—his best friend and one of the few people theodore genuinely enjoys having around—is enough to make him feel the need to disappear and hide for two entire days afterward, as though he must recover from the mere act of existing beside another person.

that does not mean theodore lives removed from the world, however. he does socialize. he attends the clandestine parties his classmates organize in the common rooms, goes out for late nights in hogsmeade with his infamous circle, or simply keeps them company during the long nights hogwarts provides. the truth is that he had to learn to loosen the chains of his own mind that pushed him toward isolation, because he was mature enough to understand that, whether he wanted to or not, a man could not live forever as a lone wolf.

✴︎ to most people, theodore may appear cold, and his sharp tongue and quick, calculating mind do little to contradict the impression. everyone sees him as the most lethal edge between the boys—the one who can and will dismantle you with cruel words rather than clenched fists, as mattheo tends to do. they're not entirely wrong. theodore learned early that one must know how to defend oneself. still, he is not particularly fond of physical fights, though he would never hesitate to fight if someone he loved required defending. he simply prefers the sentences as his weapons—something prepared, precise, and merciless for anyone who dares push his patience, a virtue theodore is far from mastering.

even so, behind closed doors, it is a mistake to think theodore nott is an iceberg. he can be very warm with those who deserve his warmth. he thinks too much and is not nearly as nonchalant as he seems. the blunt truth is that theodore uses coldness, rudeness, and discourtesy as armor, because in theo's eyes, no one is truly pure. everyone wants something; everyone carries ulterior motives. perhaps he is not entirely wrong in thinking so. the nott family is—and always has been—influential, and he has grown accustomed to the presence of sycophants of every sort whom he has never acknowledged. the safest thing to do is to shield himself and keep any potential threat away from his already fragile feelings.

✴︎ he does not live to impress anyone, but he does pursue excellence. since childhood, nothing less was ever accepted by his father, and that expectation carved itself deeply into theo’s bones. as a result, he has become fiercely competitive. in quidditch? exceptional—he has already received invitations from leagues all over the world, though he has no interest in pursuing a professional career. in school, he and draco are hermione granger’s greatest academic irritation, a persistent thorn on her side. though theodore privately despises the pettiness of such rivalries, he secretly finds himself competing with draco when it comes to intellect. he does not raise his hand in class—he simply states the correct answer aloud, constantly being reprimanded by professors for his lack of manners in speaking without permission. he does not care. he simply does it.

not for draco, not for hermione, not for the professors, and certainly not for the girls who seem eager to devour him whenever he displays his intelligence. he does it for himself, to silently (and stubbornly) prove to his father that he is not the foolish boy he once believed him to be, even if christian nott is now thousands of miles away. he does it for his mother, hoping she might be watching from above, seeing that she did not give birth to a dense kid.

curiously, he secretly admires stricter professors. professors who inspire dread in most students earn his respect instead. severus snape and minerva mcgonagall are his clear favorites, and he detests hearing his classmates complain about them. he understands them—teaching people he considers stupid would be stressful and exhausting for any human being. quietly, he gives himself a small, invisible pat on the back whenever mcgonagall says “very well observed, mr. nott,” or when snape simply nods at him in the corridors, a gesture the old man grants almost no one. both of them, knowing theodore’s father and the circumstances of his mother’s tragedy, feel a certain measure of compassion (in minerva’s case) and sympathy (in snape’s) for the italian boy.

✴︎ he has no interest in blood purity, finding it meaningless. in fact, he despises that prejudice so intensely that he has argued more than once with supremacists from his own house. to him, what defines a wizard’s strength is nothing more than their skill with a wand. his father despises this belief and fears, silently and bitterly, that the nott legacy will not be properly upheld by a son so indifferent to bloodlines. to theo, everyone bleeds red at the end of the day—and that is all that matters.

✴︎ he is shy and quiet, and he does not trust easily. but when he does find someone he considers worthy of his carefully chosen words—and eventually his trust—you can be certain you have gained a loyal ally for life. he is fiercely loyal to those who win him over, but do not be mistaken: once theodore’s trust is broken, it cannot be repaired. the worst side of theodore nott emerges then. cruel remarks flung carelessly across classrooms, rumors whispered with calculated malice... these are not beneath him. even while trying to remain cold, he is still like a pressure cooker ready to explode; if ruining your reputation brings him even a fragment of peace of mind, even a hint of that sweet revenge he wishes he could direct toward his father, he will not hesitate to reduce you to little less than dirt beneath his polished shoes.

✴︎ theo is brutally honest. he is not the kind of person who walks around spilling his opinions everywhere, but the moment someone asks for it, they should not expect words coated in honey. actually, honeyed words are not part of his vocabulary at all. if anything, his honesty borders on cruelty. small lies—“that haircut suits you,” or “that tie looks nice”—are things he despises. no. something closer to “it looks like you styled your hair with pigeon droppings instead of gel” or “that tie looks like it was vomited up by a bloody unicorn” would be more like him. but again, he only says such things when asked.

✴︎ despite his constant efforts to suppress the uglier parts of himself, there are days when the battle feels unwinnable. on such days, theodore lashes out without meaning to, delivering cruel remarks before realizing the damage they cause—whether because the knives of grief cut deeper on that particular day, because he received a call from his father, or simply cause he woke up in a foul mood. crying, however, is something he has forbidden himself entirely. his father had mocked him for it too many times when he was younger calling him “little girl,” “sissy,” and “weakling”, whenever he scraped his knee or was caught crying quietly because he missed his mommy. this detail is deeply damaging, because theodore bottles up his emotions until he explodes, injuring everyone unfortunate enough to stand nearby.

✴︎ when it comes to his lust life, theo prefers discretion; it exists in the shadows. he does not parade around with random girls the way mattheo does, nor does he have someone new under his wing every weekend like blaise. that does not mean he has few casual encounters—quite the opposite. at many of the parties he attends, he ends up spending the night with someone different. for him, intimacy is a fleeting, physical escape from his problems. yet the next day he treats those encounters casually, usually leaving once the other person falls asleep—and if someone asks him to stay, he will likely say something sharp while getting dressed before slipping out of the room. he gives pleasure and receives it, but to him, that is all it is. pleasure is exchanged. the thought of a relationship—especially with just anyone—makes him recoil.

however, there is a pattern he would never openly acknowledge. theo secretly has a preference for flings with older women. on more than one occasion he has even been involved with teachers who were far too intrigued by those icy blue eyes of his. the reason for this inclination is painfully obvious, though he would never admit it aloud: the maternal presence stolen from him far too soon. he enjoys their experience, but deep down he imagines someone his own age—or perhaps a little younger—when it comes to something lasting. someone who could grow alongside him, someone he could protect without feeling immature. the older ones are merely for fleeting amusement.

✴︎ he is deeply rational and never gives himself the luxury of false hopes. theo knows his strengths and weaknesses intimately, and he knows precisely how to conceal or reveal them. this makes him a good adviser if you want words that actually lead somewhere—but a terrible one if you are looking for validation. on the other hand, he is an excellent listener, and if you simply need to vent, he will be there as a shoulder to lean on. theodore listens better than most.

✴︎ melancholy sits at the center of him like an old companion. his temperament leans naturally toward sadness, sharpened by anger and a grief that time has never managed to dull. that explains much of how he behaves. one of the ways he has found to control some of his demons is by becoming, essentially, a walking chimney. oh, how disappointed his mother would be to see her son impressing girls by blowing smoke into different shapes.

his favorites are ordinary cigarettes—muggle, wizarding, alien, whatever—but he also has a certain fondness for marijuana. he likes how it calms him, how it takes him to a softer place where a supremacist father does not exist, where his mother is there telling him everything will be alright, where he is truly loved by someone without needing to hide his many faces. theo has tried other drugs before, like cocaine, but decided it did not suit him—besides, he fears becoming addicted beyond repair. so he sticks to cigarettes and weed, and that is enough to keep the thoughts of hurting himself or stopping his own heartbeat at bay. mattheo was the one who introduced him to the habit, but with the chaos in his mind, it reached a point where the roles were reversed and nott was the one supplying the cigarettes to riddle instead.

he also likes to drink—firewhisky, especially—but he does not enjoy how alcohol turns people into strangers. it is destructive, but damn, the feeling of his lungs burning is strangely satisfying: a pain he can feel physically rather than mentally. as if he were finally fighting something tangible.

✴︎ beneath all of this lies the part of himself theodore considers the most private: his depression. jn his mind, it is not something he has but something he is. trauma, self-destruction, melancholy... they feel inseparable from his identity. theodore has tried numerous psychologists and psychiatrists throughout his life, but nothing ever seemed to reach him. when christian gifted him with the “wise” words that real men do not reveal their deepest vulnerabilities to an untrustworthy professional—and that until he became a real man he would never succeed in life—theodore combined convenience with resentment and never returned to another therapist again.

as mentioned, he is quiet and closed-off, and he hated how therapists seemed determined to rummage through his insides until they found some tidy explanation for the way he was. one thing they always said was that theodore was not like this, that he was merely feeling this way, and theodore could not disagree more. that corrosive feeling was all he had ever known. being as rational as he was, he would never dare to hope for a version of himself without that cursed illness. for him, it was fine. he had found comfort in melancholy, comfort in the thought of throwing himself from the astronomy tower. and even on good days, when the sun did not seem quite so unbearably bright, theo would never allow himself to believe there was another fate waiting for him besides the one religions describe as the vilest of sins.

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

✴︎ he is an avid reader, and one of the items that never fails to be in his bag (besides cigarettes, chewing gum, and his perfume) is whatever volume he happens to be reading at the moment. it is a habit his mother placed gently into his hands when he was young, one he has never once considered abandoning. he holds a particular fondness for italian literature and uses it as a way of keeping his first language alive in his memory.

✴︎ he is an enthusiastic admirer of muggle video games, especially the violent ones. he spends hours in the dormitory with mattheo playing until his hands ache from gripping the controller too tightly, cursing whenever he loses and laughing whenever mattheo dies.

✴︎ theo is not the greatest fan of parties, though he attends them nonetheless. he prefers spending time alone in his own company, silence swallowing the blaring music that makes his ears ring unpleasantly. more often than not, he goes only for the sake of his friends.

✴︎ theodore loves cooking. in the kitchen, there is little he cannot accomplish, and if he lacks the knowledge, he simply learns. armed with his mother’s recipe book, theodore is unstoppable. sweets and savory dishes alike would always be at your disposal whenever even the slightest craving appeared. he delights particularly in sharing the depth and beauty of italian cuisine, from generous plates of pasta to carefully layered lasagnas, from warm cakes to delicate pastries, there is nothing theodore cannot make. still, it is a private hobby—one fewer than five people know about. honestly, theodore does not wish to open that part of his life to anyone who does not truly intend to be part of it.

✴︎ although he excels in transfiguration and is skilled in turning objects into others, as well as quite talented in charms, theo’s favorite subject is astronomy. beneath the night sky and among constellations, he feels closer to his mother. he reads book after book about astronomy, fighting back the irritating tears whenever he comes across the same stories phoena once told him, though in less whimsical ways and certainly not in the soft manner meant for a seven-year-old child.

✴︎ his wardrobe reflects the quiet precision with which he moves through the world. turtlenecks and long-sleeved shirts, tailored trousers and worn jeans, hoodies for quieter moments, and flannel pajama pants he favors with particular affection. he loves flannel. he gravitates towards cool tones, and most of his clothing falls within shades of black, gray, navy blue, and shades of green (mint, forest, emerald, and teal green mostly). his shoes are usually elegant sneakers or expensive loafers. theodore adores wool and the winter, and he hates the summer and the mosquitoes that bite his arms and legs. he rarely wears shorts—he considers them dreadful—but he does like compression shirts. and absolutely, without question, he is a great enthusiast of scarves, long blazers that reach down his tall legs, and well-worn leather jackets. on his fingers you will find only silver rings—never gold.

✴︎ music occupies a vast and tender space in his life. classical music, rock, bossa nova, folk... his taste wanders freely across genres. although he enjoys instruments, he values their compositions more. the delicate interplay of words fascinates theodore, and he even keeps an ultra-secret notebook where he writes his own compositions and lines that have struck something deep within him. he learned to play the piano with his mom and knows how to play a bit of guitar and acoustic guitar as well, though no one knows about the latter two. it is something he keeps strictly to himself.

some of his favorite muggle songs:

wicked games — chris isaak

i still haven't found what i'm looking for — u2

yeah right — joji

why'd you only call me when you're high — arctic monkeys

not you too — drake, chris brown

softcore & daddy issues — the neighborhood

wash — bon iver

mystery of love, fourth of july & futile devices — sufjan stevens

november rain — guns n' roses

the night we met — lord huron

like him — tyler, the creator

— 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (tw: addiction, brief nsfw.)

✴︎ to love theodore would never begin with love. i believe the two of you would first have to become close friends, and only after time had softened the distance between you could something deeper begin to take shape. as mentioned before, theodore is not someone who opens easily. his guarded nature ensures that only a rare few ever glimpse what lies beneath the surface. his complex personality tends to drive the unprepared away, and before diving headfirst into the vast and uncertain ocean that you are, theodore needs to feel safe. his trust is like a building made of stacking blocks: you place them carefully, one atop the other, and if they fall, you return to the very beginning. once theodore’s trust is broken, all that remains is the hollow shell he shows to the world. but if you manage to stack every block with enough patience for the tower to reach its highest point, you are rewarded with a view of the entire city—because when theodore’s trust is truly earned, you hold the world in your hands.

✴︎ theo would do absolutely anything for you, and i mean anything. that devotion would reveal itself in small moments as much as in grand ones: from arriving late because he walked you across the castle to your classroom on the other side, ignoring his own schedule simply to make sure you arrived safely, to stepping in front of you if a curse were ever aimed at your chest. in his mind, there would be nothing he would not sacrifice for you.

✴︎ he is extremely possessive and protective of you, almost instinctively so. losing his mother so early exposed a darker side of theodore, and the fear of losing you would haunt him every single day when he opened his eyes in the morning. one could easily imagine theodore placing a tracker on your wand—not to monitor your every step, but to make sure he would know exactly where to run if something ever went wrong. if danger ever found you, he would want to reach you first. he would become your own personal guardian angel, always there to pull you out of trouble, only to give you a lecture that seemed to stretch endlessly afterwards. beneath those sharp words, however, would hide the trembling truth of how frightened he had been. he would pull you tightly against his chest, long fingers heavy with silver rings threading through your hair while the other hand steadied your back, murmuring things like “you scared the hell out of me” or “never do that again” once you were safe in his arms—the safest place you could possibly be.

✴︎ following that same line, theo would also be very jealous—but not in the sense of forbidding you from wearing certain clothes or speaking to certain people. he is jealous, not controlling. theodore is confident enough to know that, if necessary, he is more than capable of disfiguring the face of the fucker who dared try something with what is his. he would certainly make his displeasure known if he saw you talking to another boy, raising one of his thick eyebrows and curling his hands into fists, remarking with a calm, yet edged with something sharper voice that he did not like that guy. but you would only truly understand how angry he was once night fell, when the tension between you turned into something far more intense.

✴︎ sex with him would feel like the most intense kind of journey, something consuming. he enjoys the raw physicality of closeness and the trust that comes with it, sometimes pushing the boundaries of control and surrender if you trusted him enough. theo can shift between rough intensity and deep attentiveness, savoring both the moments where he can hold you tightly and the ones where he watches your expressions change under his touch. he enjoys positions that let him hold you by the hair or see your face clearly, and he takes his time building the tension between you before finally closing the distance. he loves speaking during those moments too—often letting italian words slip from his lips when emotion overtakes him, something he eventually realizes affects you more than he expected. when the haze of pleasure fades, theo becomes impossibly gentle, he would take care of you in the way many girls imagine perfect care to be: guiding you into a warm bath, washing your hair, kissing the warmth of your skin slowly, always asking if you are alright, if he hurt you, if you need anything. care, for him, is not an afterthought.

is this a safe space to say that theo would be really into spitting in your mouth? for some reason that act made him feel an extra intense level of closeness, and truthfully, it got him insanely turned on. just a random little thought.

theodore enjoys certain gestures of intimacy that make the moment feel even more private and deeply shared—small acts that, to him, symbolize a level of trust and closeness that exists only between the two of you.

✴︎ his love language is primarily acts of service. cooking for you would be one of his quiet joys, bringing his mother’s old recipe book to life again. with him, you could travel across italy without ever leaving hogwarts—through plates of pasta, rich sauces, warm bread, and desserts prepared with quiet devotion. when you were exhausted, sick, or on your period, he would do your homework for you. he would plan thoughtful, almost impossibly romantic dates: picnics in rome reached through complex apparition spells, quiet trips to hogsmeade for butterbeer, or afternoons spent in bookshops where he would sit with you on his lap, your back pressed against his chest while he held the book for the both of you—always waiting patiently for you to finish each page before turning it. the list of different encounters would never truly end.

✴︎ theo is not someone who enjoys excessive pda, but he is certainly not the type to treat you differently in public either, never pretending you're anything less than his. he simply prefers subtlety—holding your hand, with your fingers idly spinning the silver rings he wears, draping an arm around your shoulders, or resting a hand on your knee where your uniform skirt leaves it bare. if surrounded by friends while relaxing in the slytherin common room, he might let you sit on his lap or between his legs. you would lean your head against his shoulder while he absentmindedly massages your scalp. occasionally, he would press quiet kisses to your forehead when he thought no one was looking—though that never stopped mattheo from teasing him, claiming theo had gone soft. theodore would only roll his eyes. your relationship would be private, yes, but never secret. those simple, enduring touches were his way of showing affection, and he would trust that you understood. those quiet touches were simply the way he loved you.

✴︎ because he is deeply avoidant, theo sometimes ends up saying hurtful things that push you away, leaving him hating himself even more afterward. he loves you more than he has ever loved breathing, but sometimes, he can be an idiot. during arguments he can be explosive, and once things calm down he nearly has to force himself to ask for your forgiveness. yet when everything settles, pride becomes something he forces himself to swallow. he would swallow glass if it meant making you happy; what were a few sincere apologies if they brought the two of you back to normal?

✴︎ theo hates crying, especially in front of you. he wants to be your anchor. every time tears betray him, tracing hot paths down his narrow cheeks, he feels as though he has failed to be the man you deserve. yet sometimes the weight of the world—and of his own actions—is too much to bear alone. in those moments, he shows vulnerability in the most raw, human way possible, and you always surprise him by not fearing the complicated parts of him. theo would forever be astonished that you choose him every single time, rather than the impulsive and sometimes cruel side that also lives within him.

✴︎ if the two of you were ever to break up, he would avoid you as much as humanly possible, vanishing in thin air. not because he hated you, but because seeing you would hurt too much. he would skip classes you shared, eat far from the great hall—or avoid it entirely—and stay away from the places he knew you liked. to him, you would become something like the plague: impossible to approach without reopening the wound. his vices would worsen considerably. he would drink and smoke as if the world were ending, losing himself in every compulsion he once promised he would control. anything to drown the hollow space you left behind.

✴︎ on the other hand, if you married and built a family together, theodore would abandon every bad habit he had ever carried—even if that meant checking himself into some miserable rehabilitation clinic to do it. he would become the most loving father imaginable, absolutely refusing to resemble the man who had merely donated his sperm to bring him into the world. he would never miss one of his children’s school presentations and would likely cry the day they left for hogwarts. for you, he would strive to be the best husband possible, making sure you never lacked anything. household tasks would be shared. your burdens would become his. above all, theodore would dedicate himself to making you happier with each passing day—as a kind of quiet repayment one he would always believe insufficient for seeing him as something more than his traumas and addictions. together, no obstacle would ever seem impossible to overcome.

footnotes.

i got carried away while describing theodore, and it ended up being too long if you got here, thank you for reading. ♡ also, if you’re new here, this is recommended as a first read before diving into my masterlist—it will help you understand why theo acts the way he does in my other works.

author's note: for this post, i took some inspirations from lo (brandolover21 on tiktok). also, thank you so much, @artytaeh, for letting me use the names phoena, christian & ariadne. <3

supporting works: some posts that can complement what you just read.

— skin: a one shot that'll explain, with more details, how would theodore feel after his breakup with you.

— theo's music taste: more about the songs and artists he would enjoy.

— theodore navigating through reader's pregnancy & theo's first baby fever: both are about theodore as a father/in fatherhood. how he would deal with it, his thoughts, insecurities and more.

— cigarettes out the window: explore his turbulent relationship with cigarettes.

find more here.

© govnder, 2026.

[rafesslxt]

this deserves soooooooo much more attention!

[rafesslxt]

i‘m currently writing something again and I for the first time have fun again doing so! eeeek

rafe story coming soon (If I finish ups)

[rafesslxt]

heyyy. i was just wondering are you still writing for hp?? if not thats totally ok. love your writing btw <333

yeah i do i just don‘t have time anymore to really sit down and write much so short requests or requests for slmething short i mean would be perfect <3 thank you!! <333

[rafesslxt]

OFF LIMITS - r.c.

warnings: bbf!rafe x barry‘s sister!reader, none

note: lol guys i just found this in my gallery from september 25 and thought it‘s kinda funny, maybe part 2? excuse the typos in this like i said it‘s an old one :)

let me know what ya‘ll think!

taglist 💌🧸🧋

@supernaturaldawning @juliet-017 @mattyskies

xoxo sarah <3