oneshots & reacts; slytherin boys

M.R. | Control in the Ink

a little scene of what would've become if mattheo survived, because according to @mirotiloooo tatted matty is just that good?????

You slam the door to the house as you come back in, locking it with the snap of your fingers as you fling your cloak off and throw it to the rack. You're not at all happy, and yet you know just the way to fix your bad mood.

So you stomp through the corridors, swinging into the kitchen through the open archway.

He's sat at the marble island, his spine curled as he bends over a sketchbook. His wide back plains with the lack of a shirt, and the muscles there are well built, straining and moving with every stroke of his hand, and the wings made of bone painted black on his shoulder blades seem to move and flap too. The ink is dark, a standing contrast against his tanned skin, and the patterns are intricate, story-telling.

You let out a soft sigh, and walk up behind him, gently letting your fingers walk up his lower traps.

Mattheo lets out a shivering gasp, back straightening out for a split second, and then he's turning his head around to give you a smile over his shoulder, lips split wide.

"Hola, bombón." He murmurs, and you lean forwards, letting him kiss you on the cheek. "How was work?"

"Good." You murmur, your fingers continuing their travels over his skin. He doesn't shiver this time, and hums, giving you one more kiss.

"That's great, love." He says, before turning back to his sketchbook. "Today was a quiet day in the shop, so I closed early."

"Do you have any exciting appointments?" You ask, and trace your fingers over the riddle scribed across his back. The lettering is elegant, loopy, and you already know the words off by heart from the nights you've spent tracing them.

"Not really." He says, and continues his sketch, wrists making soft movements. "I got so bored I let Jenny do her first tattoo."

"That shouldn't really be prompted by boredom, should it?" You ask, giggling softly. "Maybe you should've waited until she was ready?"

"She definitely was." Mattheo says, and quickly brushes his pencil behind his ear, lodging in his curly hair. He pulls his bottom lip down, and you let out a gasp at the word inscribed into the inside of it.

Death.

It has the same, scrawling font as the rhyme on his back, and you quickly run over the rhyme in your head.

"When I come, you cannot hide,

Yet I'm not a foe, just life's tide.

Neither early nor late, always on time,

What am I, ending every rhyme"

"Did it hurt?" You ask, eyes running across what was undoubtedly the answer of the riddle. All Mattheo does is raise his eyebrows at you, letting his lip go.

"Did it hurt? Bombón, have you looked at me?" He makes a sweeping gesture down his body, where you already know ink will curl around it thick. "To ease your worries, yes, it did hurt. But nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for a damn good tattoo."

You simply hum, and reach up, fixing the snake bite piercing he'd managed to skew during his exposure of his newest ink, "Does it ache now? Or have you healed it already?"