RIDDLE'S GOT ME KICKING MY FEET LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL - Tumblr Posts

Unoriginal but a goody; Riddle finding rough drafts of your love letter to him. Or catching you chanting his name while touching yourself and his feelings on someone actually wanting him closer instead of wanting to run away from him.

♡ R.R | LOVE | FLUFF

He could literally turn into a pile of ash.

Face aflame as his hands shakily hold the crumbled papers, his name in ruined ink and your handwriting, you were confessing your love. He feels dizzy and the longer he stared at the multitude of papers, the closer he felt to falling unconscious on your hardwood floors.

It's not like he purposely ment to spy nor invade your privacy, but he needed your opinion on something rather important. But your weren't answering your phone and he isn't the biggest fan of texting important issues to face to face was the best option. Yet it didn't occur to him your wouldn't be home, he merely assumed you were over sleeping, like always.

So he of course let himself inside, which wasn't uncommon, only to tsk at the pile of crumbled papers across your floor from your desk. It was against the Queens rules to have a messy room Tuesday nights, so he decided to help you. Only to find that these papers weren't in fact notes, but letters and curiosity got the better of him.

The door opens with a soft click, and he feels the ends of his hair stand as he spins around clutching the paper behind his back. You stand, head slightly tilted, as he says hello. But his voice cracks at the end and he coughs nervously.

"Good Evening. I was—well. I am here to speak to you. Apologies for simply walking in—but um, I assumed—"

You wave him off with a small, telling him it's alright. Slipping your bag off your shoulders with an exasperated sigh. The House warden visibly relaxes, crumbling the papers behind he back and dropping them to the floor when you weren't looking. He pulls at his collar and clears his throat. "So—How was your day, dear Perfect."

"Long," you laugh and sigh at the same time, plopping down on your plush bed, "but good. How was yours?"

His eyes flicker to the pile as he sits on your bed, back straight and hands in his lap, "uh, productive... Yes... One could say, I learned quite a lot..."

"Like?" You inquire, undoing the buttons of your vest, having slipped off your blazer and tossed to the side, which Riddle would usually scold you for.

"I—That assertiveness is a admirable quality—" There's a certain firmness and you look at him, brows furrowing, yet he seems deep within his thoughts, clenching his together.

"I also learned... I'm not assertive enough...." He looks at you, before his gaze flickers to your lips. As if releasing his actions, he explodes into another fit of red, snapping his head away.

"Riddle?" The call of his name, sends a hot shiver down his spine and he can't help but scrunch his nose. It isn't a bad feeling, but its—

"Riddle." He looks at you, hands nearly shaking as he lunges for yours. Watching your emotions flicker visibly, before resting on confused, yet intrigued. There's no words exchange, none to be spoken as the gap that once seemed so wide, slowly closes.

Eyes slowly closing, hearts slowly syncing, as passion, inexperience, love danced between pressed lips. His lips tremble and his body is stiff, following only instinct to kiss you. Yet his mind wants to retreat, to pull away, yet his hands finds your waist, fingers sinking into covered flesh, a muffled gasp resounding in your throat, burst whatever magical hold you placed over him. He nearly jumps away, his gloves hands slapping over his arms, eyes wide.

You fall into awkward silence.

"So... Um.... Uh.... I forgot what I was suppose to speak to you about....." He struggles to gather his thoughts, mind spinning. His tongue subconsciously running over his lips, he stills a peek at you and you're staring away.

"... At.. at a better time.... I would like—If you would like also—" He can't finish his words as your agree, and he clears his throat, standing up from your bed, and letting out a cough.

"Your room. It's a mess. And quite against the Queen's Rules. So, you should clean it. Yes." He attempts to save face, slowly backing out of your room, dusting off the imaginary dirt, before giving a short nervous bow or sorts and darting out your room. He fingers graze over his lips, a small smile forming.

He'd like to kiss you again.