#mattheo riddle x reader

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

amortentia

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: He smells like trouble — and you’re violently allergic.

A/N: Just a cute lil drabble for us girlies with rhinitis lmfao

credits to @saradika-graphics for the divider!

Your friends and family could definitely attest to the fact that you weren’t a morning person. They knew just how much effort it took for you to drag yourself out of your comfortable bed and get ready for a day of classes.

In fact, you loved sleep so much that you often skipped breakfast just to stay in bed a little longer. But on days like today, even that luxury had to be sacrificed. You had a double Potions lesson on these unfortunate mornings, and you knew that if Snape heard your stomach growl in the middle of class, he’d turn his greasy gaze on you in an instant. You didn’t need that kind of humiliation before 8 a.m.

So, just for those insipid Thursdays that cursed you with a front-row seat to Snape’s scowl, you forced yourself to have a full breakfast.

You were halfway through your meal when someone slid in beside you, your thigh pressing up against theirs due to the crowded table—but you paid it no mind. You were still drowsily chewing your croissant and washing it down with sips of coffee, half-awake and wholly uninterested in morning socialization.

But as it turned out, you didn’t even need to look up to recognize who had sat beside you. His scent drifted over immediately, invading all your senses.

Smoke. Menthol. Grass.

The offensive combination was a direct attack on your sinuses—an allergy trigger—and you sniffled, trying your hardest to suppress the inevitable.

"Achoo—!"

You barely managed to grab a tissue in time before a sneezing fit hit you, harsh and rapid, making your head pound and clogging your ears. It was like a full-body betrayal.

Finally, you lifted your head, eyes watery, and glared at Mattheo, who was watching your misery with far too much amusement.

“It’s six o’clock in the bloody morning. Why do you already smell like an ashtray?”

He chuckled, low and raspy—his signature brand of self-destruction. The sound made your stomach flip unpleasantly, “How else am I meant to survive double Potions this early?”

“Salazar, I’m about to sneeze up my lungs. You need to get away from me.” You groaned, digging through your bag with one hand while clutching a tissue to your nose with the other. You finally found your allergy potion, added a few drops to your water, and knocked it back like a shot. The relief was still a few minutes away, but your sinuses were already starting to throb.

“Aw, don’t be like that, darling.” Mattheo teased, leaning in closer with that infuriating smirk.

You had no idea how it was physically possible to trigger another sneezing fit when you couldn’t smell a damn thing—but somehow, he managed.

He winced this time, genuinely, and passed you another tissue as your nose turned an alarming shade of red and your chest began to burn from the exertion.

"You think this is funny?" You rasped, your voice nasally and sharp as you blew your nose yet again. Your eyes were watery and puffy now, and your headache was blooming behind them like an angry sun.

He shrugged and leaned in just a little closer, the glint of mischief in his eyes glimmering brighter when you instinctively leaned away to escape his scent, “You’re cute when you’re dying.”

You gave him a deadpan stare, unimpressed, “You think this is flirting?”

“Is it not working?”

You sneezed again in response, grabbing another tissue as your shoulders sagged from the force of it, “I hate you.”

Mattheo chuckled, clearly not offended in the slightest, “I’m growing on you.”

“Like mold.” you muttered, blowing your nose again.

The dungeons were even colder than usual.

You sat stiffly at your table, arms folded and a tissue still clutched in your sleeve just in case, glaring daggers at Mattheo, who had somehow managed to plant himself at the same workstation as you—again. He was leaning back in his chair, the picture of smug satisfaction, while you were trying to remember if it was possible to drown someone in a cauldron without magic.

Snape stood at the front, his voice as dry and lifeless as ever, “Today we will be brewing Amortentia—the most powerful love potion in existence. I’m aware that most of you have heard of it.” His eyes swept the class lazily, lingering on a few particularly chatty Hufflepuffs until they fell silent, “I do not need to warn you not to drink it. If you are foolish enough to do so, I suggest you be prepared to serve detention for the rest of the year.”

That certainly wiped the grins off a few faces.

Snape gestured toward a swirling silver potion that sat in the center of the classroom, steam curling up from its surface like silk threads, “Amortentia has a distinctive smell for each individual. It reflects what attracts you—your deepest desires.”

You already knew what was coming next.

Snape gave an exhausted sigh, “Yes, I will allow you to approach and smell it. No, I will not tolerate dramatics or extended monologues. State three scents. Then return to your seat.”

Of course, the class erupted into excited whispers, and students immediately began lining up like it was a trip to Honeydukes, a buzz of excitement threading through the usual tension. You ended up somewhere near the back of the line, still sniffling lightly but feeling mostly human again.

Mattheo turned toward you with a grin, “Wanna guess what I’ll smell?”

"I couldn't care less." You muttered, rubbing your nose.

One by one, your classmates stepped up and murmured their answers:

“Fresh parchment… ink… cedarwood.”

“Rain on concrete… treacle tart… and, um, lavender?”

When it was Mattheo’s turn, he moved to the front casually, hands in his pockets, and leaned over the potion with a laziness that was either theatrical or just him being annoying. Probably both. You saw his expression shift slightly—his mouth twitching, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—and then he smirked, catching your eye.

“Cinnamon,” He murmured, almost lazily, “Smoke… and something sweet. Like a cherry lip balm.”

You blinked. Your lip balm was cherry. But before you could even begin to convince yourself there was absolutely no way he was talking about you, it was your turn.

You stepped forward cautiously and leaned over the cauldron, letting the shimmering steam curl toward your face.

The scent hit you all at once.

Warm coffee in the morning. The crackling scent of firewood. The sharp sting of winter air. And— that godawful combination of cigarette smoke, grass, warm leather, and that absolutely striking menthol that jabbed you right in the back of your head.

Your entire body rejected the information at once.

"Achoo—!!"

It was so loud it echoed. Your eyes flew open, already brimming with tears as another round of sneezing overtook you—loud, rapid, unstoppable.

You barely managed to reach for your tissue as your chest tightened painfully, the sneezing fit threatening to overwhelm you.

Snape’s expression didn’t soften, but his voice dropped just enough to be heard only by you, “You are excused. Go to the bathroom and handle this... nuisance.”

You nodded gratefully, gathering your things in a flurry and stumbling out of the dungeon. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had to stop by the hospital wing or take a stronger dose of your allergy potion.

Mattheo bloody Riddle.

Well, this was just great.

Later that afternoon, you found a quiet spot just outside the castle, where the sun filtered softly through the leaves and the cool breeze carried scents that—thankfully—didn’t assault your sinuses. You sank down onto the warm stone steps, closing your eyes and taking deep, deliberate breaths, willing your throat and chest to stop burning.

You barely had a moment to relax before you heard a familiar voice—smooth, teasing, and annoyingly persistent.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my biggest admirer.”

You opened your eyes to find Mattheo leaning casually against the wall nearby, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Riddle. I’m literally allergic to you. Now, if you could kindly leave, I just managed to get over the allergic reaction. I don’t need you triggering another one.”

But, of course, he didn’t listen as usual. Instead, he sat down beside you again. But instead of being suffocated by his usual scent, you were welcomed by the smell of fabric softener and soap. You sighed in relief, glad you weren’t about to send yourself into your third allergic fit of the day.

“I showered and put on clean clothes,” He explained, nudging your shoulder with his, “Didn’t want the girl I fancy to have a near-death experience every time I’m around her.”

You breathed in deeply and exhaled, “So, I suppose the cherry lip balm you smelled was mine.”

He nodded. “And your shampoo. And,” he laughed at this, “your allergy potion.”

Your eyes snapped open, “So you’re saying the scent you associate me with is the bloody allergy potion?”

Mattheo smirked, clearly enjoying your shocked expression, “Well, it’s... memorable. Besides, it reminds me that I’m capable of stealing your breath away.”

You raised an eyebrow, “That’s supposed to be romantic?”

Mattheo’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Maybe not traditionally romantic, but definitely effective.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile, “You’re impossible.”

Mattheo’s smirk softened into something almost sincere as he shifted closer, eyes locked on yours, “So… how about this? Let me take you out sometime. A proper date.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. Your heart did a little skip.

“Okay,” you said easily, without hesitation.

Mattheo blinked, caught off guard. “Okay? Just like that? No lecture? No conditions?”

You grinned. “Nope. I’m just going to wear the strongest, most suffocating perfume I own and cuddle up to you all day. Then you’ll know what I’ve been living through every time you light a cigarette.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm. “If you’re cuddled up to me, I think I’d die happy—no matter how sneezy and snotty I get.”

You couldn’t help but smile, cheeks warming as you looked at him. “Guess we’ll test that theory soon.”

Mattheo reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face with an unexpected tenderness, “Looking forward to it.”

The sun dipped a little lower, casting a golden glow over the two of you—and suddenly, the world felt a lot brighter.

To be added to a taglist, please send me an ask! (I might respond to you in comments but I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally miss it)

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[kaciebello]

Okay hear me out...

Niffler animegus reader...

Animagus: Niffler

Slytherin boys texts genre: crack warning: none note: I hear you with the niffler Navigation Masterlist

Taglist

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[sabxynsweet]

sweetheart!reader can't think straight with mattheo

short little one while i write all your requests <3

"I think Astoria doesn’t like me.” You murmur, though you start to lose your train of thought as Mattheo trails kisses down your jawline to your neck.

“Who?” He mutters, continuing with his open mouth kisses.

You roll your eyes before they flutter close.

“Astoria Greengrass, you know her, I’m sure.”

“Sure, what about her?”

“She said- no, Pansy heard from her friend that she, umm, she-” You can feel Mattheo smirk against your skin before his lips ghost over your ear.

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.” You murmur, titling your head back, leaning into him which makes him chuckle.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute, too.” You mumble. He snorts.

“Sure.” He pauses his ministrations, giving your poor brain time to think and giving you some space to breathe before he’s whispering in your ear again.

“I like your skirt.” He whispers, his hand playing with the hem from where it was resting on your thigh, “You should wear it more often.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Mattheo traces shapes on your thigh, you swear you feel the shape of a heart, “Please, baby.”

He coaxes you onto his lap and smiles smugly when you nod.

“Sure.”

“Good girl.”

You make a mental note to wear this skirt again, you quite liked it anyway. Besides, you’d wear bees woven together if Mattheo asked nicely enough.

He finally moves to kiss your lips, making you feel dizzy and fuzzy all over.

Your hands tangle in his hair as you melt into him.

He pulls away, leaving you in a daze.

Mattheo smirks and pats your head after checking his watch. “It’s dinner time, Sweetheart.”

You don’t respond, your mind blanking.

He laughs. “Come on.”

You snap out of your daze, finally.

“I hate you.” You whine.

He laughs. “Sure you do.”

also! i hope you know that for some of your requests i do have them in my drafts already written but i thought that they fit boyfriend!mattheo more so unfortunately we have to wait a little for those

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x @peterparkerspersonalplaything

[redeemingvillains]

the mixup - mattheo riddle

summary: one of the house elves makes a mistake with the laundry. or, the time you left four friends speechless and your best friend drooling. word count: 1.3k warnings: this is very suggestive, probably 18+ish, please read responsibly my dears. a/n: just something silly and fun that made me blush and giggle. i love these boys!!!! soundtrack: levii's jeans - beyonce & post malone

"Make it quick, Riddle, we're not going to wait for you" Draco grumbled as he pushed past him

"Alright, just give me a minute, will you?" Mattheo muttered in reply as he dragged his laundry bag into the dormitory behind him.

His hair was still wet from the shower he'd raced through after quidditch practice ran late and each of the boys was rushing to get their weekend started, their room a chaotic mess of clothes, cologne and a handle of firewhiskey that was making its way between them.

Mattheo swiped the bottle from Lorenzo, grinning and ducking out of his grasp as he took a hefty gulp before it was stolen away again, leaving his lips burning from the liquor as he wiped them with the back of his hand.

In truth he was just as eager for tonight, maybe even moreso than his friends, though for a much different reason; he didn't care about getting wasted, or snagging the best table at the Three Broomsticks to watch the quidditch finals, he was just looking forward to seeing you.

Though if anyone would have asked him, he would have vehemently denied it.

Because you were friends... just friends. Friends like he was friends with Pansy or Astoria... Except that he didn't have endless thoughts about the feeling of their skin under his fingers, didn't smell the lingering scent of their shampoo in the Amortentia he'd brewed last term, didn't study every detail about them from their favorite food, to the color they painted their nails, didn't fantasize about them like he did about you: that one day you'd want him the way he wanted you. Because even though you were inseparable, even though you orbited around each other, even though he swore sometimes he caught you looking at him, your gaze always dissolved into something sweet and friendly and he'd have to remind himself that even though he could confidently have any girl in the school, and had proven as much, you were both the only one he genuinely wanted and the only one that seemed immune to him.

The boys continued in their cacophony of shouting over one another as Mattheo lugged his laundry to his bed and overturned it unceremoniously and Enzo turned on his favorite muggle pop playlist.

"You can't be serious" Blake commented the second it started.

"Enz, turn this shit off" Mattheo agreed. "Your taste in music is worst than..." he started before fading off.

"...Than what, Riddle? I'm sorry we don't all listen to edgy alternative depressing shit" Enzo chirped to no response. He finished pulling his shirt over his head and then peered around his four-poster to see Mattheo staring silently at the pile of clothes in front of him.

“What’s?—” Enzo started to say as he wandered over until he saw what had captivated Mattheo's attention. "No fucking way" he laughed as he stepped closer and stood beside him.

The emerald comforter of the bed was covered almost entirely in lingerie, soft cottons, delicate lace, bralettes, thongs, floral sets, petal pinks and curve-hugging boy shorts. Enzo bit his fist.

"Fucking hell" he breathed as he reached reverently for a transparent pink bralette before holding it up for the others to see, each immediately stopping what they were doing and making their way over, drawn to it.

"Who's is it?" Blaise muttered, reaching for the laundry bag and turning it over in his hands. "S'got your name on it..."

"You holding out on his, amico?" Theo smirked as he nudged Mattheo's shoulder. "A little amorina on the side?"

"I wish" Mattheo said, his eyes locking on a rosy thong that had him swallowing.

He was completely transfixed, unable to tear his gaze from the pile of pink in front of him, certain that not a single classmate he knew could be wearing stuff like this because surely he'd know, surely one of them would know... right? But something about the colors, the style tickled something in the back of his mind and made him want to tell his friends to keep their hands off of it.

"Theo, you're telling me even you have no idea whose this is?" Lorenzo confirmed.

"Nooo" he drawled. "Trust. I would not forget this" he said, picking out a peach thong that was barely more than a string as Draco let out a low whistle.

And then they heard voices in the hallway, a murmur and the high-pitched squeak of a house elf.

"Penny is so very sorry, Miss. Penny must have switched the bags. Penny will make it right, Miss."

And with a soft knock you pushed the door open to see all of your guy friends standing around a pile of your lingerie, your bra in Enzo's hands, your thong between Theo's fingers, each of them looking genuinely guilty and completely shocked at the sight of you; Draco's mouth hung open and Mattheo's eyes were as wide as galleons. Enzo and Theo slowly lowered the pieces back to the bed and you swore you could hear the fabric hit the comforter for how quiet it had become.

"Awww, thanks, boys!" you said, completely unphased as you dropped the laundry bag you’d been holding and strode towards them.

Five sets of eyebrows hit the ceiling.

Draco mutely picked up the bag with Mattheo’s name mistakenly printed on it and held it out, his eyes never leaving you.

You accepted it and began grabbing handfuls of your delicates, stuffing them back in the bag. With a muffled cough and a murmur, the boys shuffled away leaving you with Mattheo who was physically incapable of moving as he watched you grab fistfuls of your underwear off his bed. It was without a doubt the hottest shit he'd ever seen and would never ever unsee, in the outline of your fitted t-shirts, in your leggings, beneath your oversized sweaters that tended to slip off your shoulder.

"Sorry for the mixup" you said, your eyes focused as you stuffed the last of it into the bag, “I brought yours back, it’s over there” you nodded towards the door.

"Y-yeah s'no problem" he muttered, tearing his gaze away for a second, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

And then the bed was clear and you were standing in front of him, the bag against your hip, smiling up at him as if your thongs hadn't just touched his sheets.

"See you in a few?" you asked.

He swallowed.

"...Yeah..." he mumbled as he watched you leave, your hips swinging as five heads turned to watched you go.

That night Mattheo tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about it, about you, about the lace and the cotton and the way they'd sit against your skin, about how the entire night he wondered what was under your dress and how he was sure your perfume lingered against his sheets even though you hadn't been here for hours.

He buried his head into his pillow and moved to hug it when his fingers brushed something beneath it. He grasped it and pulled it towards him to see a baby pink lace thong. But how could it possibly have gotten under his pillow?

Unless...

Had you...?

He didn't get a wink of sleep.

ˋ°•*⁀➷

The following morning he wandered, exhausted, into the Great Hall to see you wearing one of his hoodies, his favorite hoodie, in fact, engulfing you so perfectly that it made his heart dip and swoon so fast he bumped into the Ravenclaw in front of him.

He shook his head and pushed them out of the way as he righted himself and strode confidently to the Slytherin table and slid in beside you.

You turned to him and your eyes fluttered under your long lashes as you searched his face; you could see faint bags beneath his eyes and a darkness in their amber depths that tangled with a warmth you were well familiar with.

"Hope you don't mind...." you said as you rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and bit it gently.

His eyes tracked every movement.

"...Looked too comfy to give up" you smiled.

"Not at all" he conceded, breaking your gaze to reach for the coffee, which he poured and took a long sip from before he leaned over to you, his lips lingering against your ear in a way that had goosebumps running up your arm.

"But if you get to keep that, then I get to keep what you left me."

You flushed beneath the fabric of his sweatshirt, beneath his gaze, beneath the feeling of his breath on your cheek even as he pulled back, though not far, your noses nearly touching.

"Or" you whispered as you rested your hand on his thigh that flexed in response. "Maybe I could come by later tonight and trade you for the pair I have on?"

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried, @girllblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen, @loverliner, @smut-anarchy, @locknco, @wybieivy, @itznotsophia, @cipheress-to-k-pop, @aur0ral1ghts, @revesephemeres @midnights-with-him

[simp-for-love]

Little Things

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

It’s your birthday — a day you never expect much from — but your best friend Mattheo Riddle has other plans.

Warnings: Pure fluff, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, one perfect and caring boy

Word count: ~ 1,4k

A/N: to my sweet and absolutely beautiful angel @ur-local-wizard. I wanted to give you something warm and soft like you do every time I talk to you. Love you, be happy today and always 🩷

P.S.: Check her works. She's not only kind and sweet, but also a really talented pookie.

You had never expected much from birthdays. A few texts, maybe a cupcake from a coworker, some calls from your family. You didn't mind it, not really. You were used to being the one who planned surprises, made lists and notes, remembered everyone else's special days. All those little things made them happy. So you were glad you could bring some joy to people's lives. It just felt easier that way — safer.

But Mattheo Riddle always had other ideas.

It started with a text at 8:01 a.m.

"Happy birthday, sunshine.

Hope u got some sleep. Big day ahead."

You blinked at your screen in confusion. Big day? That sounded oddly suspicious. But you brushed it off — he was certainly just being dramatic. He always had a thing for theatrical gestures and words. Mattheo was probably going to bring you a cake with silly wish and doodle on it or sing you a ridiculously bad version of happy birthday song.

With that thought you shuffled into your kitchen to find a little white bag waiting for you on the counter with your name scribbled on it in Mattheo's awful, jagged, but heartwarming in its familiarity handwriting.

Something warm stuttered in your chest. He'd been here?

You opened the bag carefully. Inside was your favorite coffee — from the one café that managed to make it exactly right — and a note:

"I know you always say you don't care about birthdays. But I do. So drink this and don't argue. — Yours, M"

You read it twice. Then again, like the paper in your hands was just an illusion of your still sleepy mind.

You didn't know what to make of it. He was your best friend. He teased you constantly, poked fun at your bad TV taste, stole fries off your plate, send you links to the most unhinged memes with cats at 2 a.m.

But this? This was... thoughtful. Almost soft.

And it made your cheeks warm and chest tighten gently — that quiet, fluttery ache that had started happening more often around him lately. Like your heart was trying to tell you something before your mind caught up.

You didn't know when it had started. Maybe the time he shared his last bite of your favorite dessert without being asked, or when he walked you home in the rain just because.

But he kept doing things like this. Little things. Gentle things. Things that made you feel seen. And it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn't feel anything.

You drank the coffee with a silly little smile on your lips, but still, you truly expected that to be the end of it — coffee, note, maybe a sarcastic card later in the evening.

You were wrong.

At exactly 2 p.m., Mattheo showed up at your door. His arms were full of takeout boxes, a messily wrapped gift tucked under his arm.

You blinked in surprise, opening and closing your mouth a few times before managing, "Are you—?"

"Yes," he said with a proud nod, pushing past you. "Happy birthday, beautiful. Now move. I’m setting up."

You followed him into your own living room like a confused puppy. Your eyes lingered on Mattheo as he unpacked the food, casually taking over your table like this was just a normal Thursday occurrence.

"I—, you— what is happening right now, Matt?"

Mattheo didn’t look up, too busy with setting the table up. "You're having a good day. And I'm helping with it. That's what's happening," he said matter-of-factly.

"You got me four different kinds of pasta," you exclaimed, looking at the food with wide eyes.

He just shrugged. "Couldn't remember which one was your favorite. So I got them all."

Your brain and heart short-circuited once again in his presence.

You sat beside him, the scent of garlic, basil and lemon drifting in the air, making your mouth watering. He handed you a fork with triumphant gesture and a warm container of something that smelled heavenly.

"Try the gnocchi," he said. "You'll cry."

You took a bite. And, damn him, you almost did.

Halfway through the meal, your laughter bubbled out uncontrollably. He'd gotten sauce on his shirt and tried to wipe it with a paper napkin, only smearing it worse across the fabric.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, mock-scandalized. "I made a mess for you. It's festive."

"You're a menace," you replied with a smile, not being able to stop giggling.

"And you love it."

All you managed to do in response was to blush and look away.

He let it go and didn’t comment. But his eyes lingered on you a moment longer, quiet and warm.

Later, after the food and the laughter and the truly cursed attempt at karaoke to Beggin’, Mattheo grabbed the little maroon gift box from the table.

"I debated ten different things," he said, pressing it into your hands. "This one felt right."

You unwrapped it carefully, your stomach fluttering at the idea of him thinking so much about your gift. Inside was a custom vinyl record with your name etched on the label. The sleeve was personalized with a little doodle of you — stars in hair, a gentle smile on your lips — and inside was a playlist of Måneskin songs, curated "For the softest girl with the loudest heart."

You stared at it, blinking hard, trying not to cry. "Mattheo..."

"You like it?" he asked, suddenly looking genuinely nervous.

"I— I don't know what to say," you mumbled quietly as your fingers ran on the vinyl reverently.

"Say I'm a genius."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

You looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest.

He was so close. Closer than you expected. His knees brushed yours, and his eyes — usually gleaming with mischief — were unreadable but quietly genuine now.

"Mattheo," you whispered. "It's... Why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head slightly, smile shifted into something softer. "You really don't know, do you?" he asked gently, almost like talking to a child.

You shook your head, small and uncertain.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles tenderly.

"I've wanted to do something like this for you since the day we met," he said finally. "You're always doing things for everyone else. You light up every room you walk into and never even notice. You make people feel seen — and you never ask for anything back."

Your breath caught. That quiet and gentle ache in your chest intensified again.

"I guess I just wanted you to feel special. Because you are. And not just today." His voice dropped lower. "You're special to me every day."

You looked down overwhelmed, not being able to hold his gaze that was shining with warmth and softness. The record clutched in your lap, his fingers laced through yours, your heart in your throat.

"But it's too much," you trailed off quietly. "You didn’t have to do all of this. We're just—"

"Friends?" he asked softly.

You managed to barely nod.

He smiled with a hint of sadness in it. "Since it's your birthday, let me tell you a secret. I think I've been in love with my best friend for a while now."

Silence stretched. Gentle, pulsing silence.

You looked up at him slowly, feeling your cheeks burning. "Me?" The question slipped out from your lips without thinking — surprised, hesitant, maybe a little hopeful.

He laughed softly, shaking his head a bit. "Obviously you. Who else would put up with me?"

Your cheeks burned even more now.

"I— I didn't know," you whispered, still trying to process the information.

"I guess I just didn't want to pressure you," he said, free hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But it's your birthday. And I thought... if there was ever a time to tell you, it's today."

You stared at him. At the boy who remembered your favorite band, your favorite coffee, your little throwaway comments from months ago. The boy who made you laugh when you wanted to cry. Who was loud and ridiculous and impossible — and who, somehow, made you feel like you mattered more than anyone in the whole world.

You leaned in before you could second-guess yourself.

And Mattheo met you halfway.

The kiss was soft. Sweeter than you ever thought a kiss could be. A little clumsy. A little breathless. Like he'd been waiting a long time, and didn't want to rush a second of it.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

"So," he said, grinning like he'd just won in the lottery. "Best birthday ever?"

You laughed, heart full to the brim. "Yeah. It really is."

And he kissed you again, sealing your words with his lips.

[nottswitch]

introducing… ♯ puppy!mattheo

“why so sexy if so dumb?” …but in a cute way.

૮ ꒰ • ﻌ - ꒱ ა puppy!mattheo has a horrible case of oral fixation and always has to have something stuck between his pretty lips. please, make sure you have a spare lollipop in your pocket, or he might start whining and begging for something more.

૮ ꒰ • ﻌ - ꒱ ა puppy!mattheo is obsessed with head scratches. careful! if you start running your fingers through his hair and suddenly hear soft snores against your chest – you’re in for a long nap break with his weight pressing you down like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

૮ ꒰ • ﻌ - ꒱ ა puppy!mattheo might start humping random things if you neglect him for a second too long. he’s a little bit of an attention whore – just a heads up in case he starts pawing at you and grinding his hips when you as much as move your thigh between his legs.

nav. au masterlist. more.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity, REMASTERED!

chapter one *ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: it was supposed to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities and in return she would help him steer his friends from their predestined fates on the wrong side of history. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic! slytherins x fem!reader; platonic golden trio x fem!reader

— no use of Y/N, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18. and Bellatrix isn't Mattheo's mother in this fic (just fyi) —

warning(s): mention of character death, grief, brief mention of blood

Your fitful sleep was disrupted by a scream. Your scream. You jerked awake, clawing at the silky sheets of your bedding, lungs heaving with uneven breathes. The nightmare...no the memory still scraped along the edges of your subconscious, so vividly that you could still smell the air of the amphitheater; cool and still, thick with a scent that didn't belong to the living world.

You felt like you hadn't even woke up. Like you were still there in the Department of Mysteries, wandering through the hallways, where dust and age clung to the stone walls like a second skin. You could still feel the distinct, metallic tang of magic that hung stagnantly in rooms that had not been accessed for centuries before you had entered them; like old blood on iron, or the lingering trace of a spell gone wrong. You remember the Veil in the centre of the room the most vividly. It was colder than the amphitheater, and despite the very distinctive presence of old magic, it was like there was nothing there – something ancient and void.

When Sirius' body fell through its doorway, something had shifted. You felt it. Magic, raw and unsettled, left a bitter tang in the air. The chill swirled around you, sharper, more personal, as if the room itself had tasted Harry's grief; had feasted on Remus'. You watched in awestruck silence as his body fell further into the void and the distinct scent of his magic quickly overtook your senses. Something imperceptibly him – sandalwood and smoke. But as quickly as it overtook you, it faded into nothing and he was gone.

Harry's scream echoed through your mind, even as you pried your eyes open to face the day ahead.

You didn't leave your room, not when your mother shouted up the stairs to announce breakfast, and certainly not when your father was saying his goodbyes before leaving for work. The plans for the day were long forgotten. You stayed in the same position for hours, staring at your canopy of stars, eyes unfocused and unseeing.

You couldn't bring yourself to move. Why was it fair that you could live, but someone who barely got the chance to, could not.

Your summer holidays were repetitive. Each day the same: wake up screaming; rot in bed until your mother coaxed you out with a cup of tea and a plate of food that you probably wouldn't eat; mope on the setee in the lounge room until the sun set beneath the horizon; go up to your room to sleep off the exhaustion; relive that awful day once more and wake up screaming.

You know its only like this because the guilt knawed at you.

You should have done something. Should have stopped Bellatrix in her ambitions; fought her off before she had the chance to fire the death curse at her own flesh and blood. But the rational part of you knows that there is nothing you could've done to save him.

You hadn't spoken to Harry at all since you all returned from the Ministry. You had hardly spoken to Ron or Hermione either. It wasn't like last summer, when you were forbidden to send or receive any sort of mail, for Harry's safety. This was a different sort of distance.

Self-inflicted and filled with a longing that you refused to sate. Because why should you have the luxury to do so, when Sirius deserved it a thousand times more?

So when Molly Weasley personally invited you to stay at The Burrow for the last few weeks of the summer holidays, your mother took it upon herself to help you pack away your things for the upcoming year and sent you through the floo network without a second thought. She hoped that this change of scenery and being surrounded by your friends would be a well deserved reprieve for you.

The Burrow smelled like fresh bread and rosemary stew and something was bubbling on the stove. A familiar warmth curled in the air, and the walls buzzed softly with enchantments that had long since grown comfortable in their magic. A familiar feeling of nostalgia washed over you as you stepped out of the fireplace and into the bustling kitchen where Molly was stood, awaiting your arrival, alongside one of your closest friends.

You sank into Fred's arms, the overwhelming scent of him, cinnamon and a hint of gunpowder under the fresh, herbal laundry soap from his jumper, wrapped around you like a blanket. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so many weeks.

"You doing okay, darling?" he mumbled quietly in your ear as your mothers chatted away, seemingly oblivious of your private moment. Your breath hitched choppily as you left his embrace to see his face, speckled with an array of freckles and a slight sunburn.

"Not really." You replied with a huff of a laugh that both of you knew wasn't real. "Haven't slept well since I- since we got back." From the ministry. Is what you don't say out loud. But he knows, gods he knows you're suffering quietly and wants to do everything possible to make it stop. Instead, he pulls you into his arms again and squeezes you tightly before George comes and intercepts you with an abundance of energy that you wish you could tranfer to the depths of your being. Anything to make you feel like you were still breathing.

"My favourite Ravenclaw!" George exclaimed as he pulled you into a bear hug. Your laugh came out tearfully as you accepted his embrace.

"I'm the only Ravenclaw you're friends with, nitwit." You tease lightly and he squeezes you into a proper hug once he sees your tears.

"There's no need for name calling, Meadow." He said, dramatically placing his hands on his chest and flailing in response, which sent you into a fit of laughter that bordered on a sob. "You're my favourite of Ronald's friends, how about that?"

"That's acceptable." You say with a watery smile.

"I thought Finnegan was your favourite." Fred said with a smirk from where he was watching you both, leaning against the kitchen counter beside you.

"That's a load of bollocks! Just because you're jealous of our friendship, Freddie." George retorts with a glare that held no anger in it as he wrapped a muscled arm around your shoulders.

"I've got nothing to be jealous of, you git."

As you watch the twins argue, you already feel a piece if your fractured soul mending, slowly but surely. And when you finally see your three best friends after two whole months of self isolation, you crumble and fall into their awaiting arms.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You were walking to the designated Prefect's compartment, which sat in the middle of the train, with Hermione at your side, your blue and bronze tie clashing with her burgundy and gold one. Your presence at the Ministry that summer had, unfortunately and unsurprisingly, prompted the two of you to be topics of quite a few conversations that you had the displeasure of overhearing as you walked past each open compartment. You sent glares their way.

The air surrounding the students on the train differed exponentially to last year, when everyone was certain that Harry had lied about what had happened during the Third Task, two years ago. As well as whispers about your latest adventure outside of Hogwarts, every compartment you and Hermione drifted past were full of murmurs about how Harry really was telling the truth.

The Dark Lord had returned and everything as they knew it was going to change.

Along with Voldemort's return came a death toll that rose higher and higher each day, with a growing rate that was rapidly becoming too severe to keep track of. Amongst the whispers of Harry's name, were whispers of Voldemort's son. How he was involved in his father's empire of Death Eaters, doing his bidding from inside Hogwarts. How he and his friends needed to be dealt with and sent away from the school. Suffice to say, you couldn't help but agree. At least in terms of sending Riddle away, not so much his friends.

"What do you think will happen this year?" Hermione asked as you both made your way through the throngs of students in the hallway.

"Considering we almost died in June?" you say, a frown painting your face as your mind brings you back to your traumatic memories of that night. "We'll probably face certain death this year, Mione."

Hermione swatted your arm in feined annoyance at your attempt of a joke, though her face was painted with a soft concern that you brushed off with an affectionate eye roll. "Don't put that thought into existence, Meadow."

"I thought you were against all things Divernation." You say with a smirk that is met with a deadpan look of exasperation. Ron was already waiting inside, glaring at Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, who were sat diagonally across from him, when you both entered the compartment. Unlike your Gryffindor companions, you had no issues with them, in fact they were two people you would consider your closest friends, if it wasn't for the prejudice that went both ways – from your friends and some of their's. Theo had been your Patrol Partner last year and you'd formed a loose friendship that had turned into a bond you couldn't live without and Pansy became a much loved plus of Theo's friendship with you.

"Stop glaring at them, Ron." You scold quietly, so as to not draw attention to the three of you. Of course, that has almost never been the case for any of you. "They're my friends, why can't you respect that?"

He said nothing in response to that, but his outright glares had softened to the odd side eye whenever Theo or Pansy would make a suggestion to the Head Boy and Girl.

The Prefect meeting went on for over an hour and you found yourself zoning out multiple times, only picking up bits and pieces of what was being said. You're brought from your daze by the stinging feeling of someone being beyond your mental walls. You flinch in discomfort before glaring at the culprit, who has a cheeky smirk across his handsome face.

'You're going to miss out on important information if you keep daydreaming, tesoro.'

While you admired that he was as talented as he was, Theo had a habit of invading your thoughts with his mindless anecdotes and thoughts whenever it pleased him.

'Stay out of my head, Teddy.'

He turned his attention back to the Head Boy without so much as blinking in your direction, who was busy assigning roles to the new fifth year prefects.

'But it's so fun, and so easy.'

You'd taken to learning legillimency at the start of fifth year, having read about it in a book you'd taken from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. You wanted to protect your mind, especially with the knowledge that Voldemort was back after Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's dead body at the end of your fourth year. But it was an exceptionally challenging feat. One which you were admittedly struggling with a lot more than most of the other things you'd learned over the years.

"Now onto you sixth years." the Head Girl announced. "Like last year, you're going to be paired off for nightly patrols."

She began pairing you off one by one. Hermione was with Ernie Macmillan; Ron was paired with Hannah Abbot; Pansy with your Ravenclaw counterpart and Theodore was paired with you, once again. She then paired off the seventh year prefects before the Head Boy dismissed you all.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ron yawned, stretching his muscled arms out and over his head in dramatic fashion as he stepped into the corridor. You pretended not to notice how Hermione's gaze lingered on your friend's arms. But your smirking face gave you away she she not-so-subtly elbowed you in your side. Your smirk widens.

"Thank Merlin that's over. I'm starving." Ron groans as his tall frame overtakes the entirety of the small walkway.

"You're always hungry, Ronald." Hermione mutters as she moves to walk past him, her fascination with his biceps momentarily forgotten as she rolls her eyes at his usual ramblings, which made you laugh in his expense.

"He's a growing boy, Mione! As a future Quidditch star he needs fuel!" You tease.

"Piss off, Meadow." He retorts, but there's no bite to his words. In fact he's grinning alongside you. Your bubble of fun is interrupted by Theo's deep, accented voice.

"My my, it's a wonder why Dumbledore chose you to be a prefect with that attitude, Weasley."

"Fuck off, Nott." Ron snarked, all the laughter that was etched on his face was gone in a blink, turning to face your snickering Slytherin friend, about to take a step towards him when you put a hand on his chest.

"Leave it Ron. Please. He's only trying to get a rise out of you." You say, turning to face a smirking Theo with a berating glare. "I'll meet you both in the compartment in a bit."

Ron left begrudgingly, with Hermione trailing behind him, shouting a promise to save you a seat when you eventually showed up.

"Wanted to get me alone, tesoro? Finally. I've waited so long." he said with a grin, stepping towards you and ushering you back into the, now empty, Prefects compartment.

"Don't flatter yourself, Teddy." you say with an eye roll before you turned to Pansy and brought her into a hug. "I've missed you Pans. Did you have a good summer?"

"It was abysmal. But that makes three of us." she muttered, sharing a not-so-subtle look with Theo. You looked between them questioningly.

"What happened?" you ask, looking between them questioningly, ignoring how Pansy had read you like an open book despite not knowing the minute details. Theo suddenly takes out his wand and mumbles a dual silencing and locking spell on the door, and he turns to face you with a grim expression on his face.

"Seriously, what's going on. You're starting to freak me out with the need for secrecy." You look between them growing more confused by the second.

"Before we tell you anything, you've got to promise not to tell anyone." Pansy says in response, her voice quieter than you'd ever heard it.

"I don't have a choice, tesoro." Theo emphasises. "You cannot tell anyone what I'm about to say. Not even your little circle of Gryffindors. I mean it-"

"Okay Theo. I understand. Please tell me." You say, staring up at your friend with worry painting your face.

He doesn't look you in the eye. Pansy's gaze turns towards the window.

And suddenly it clicks and the nagging thought that had haunted you, alongside yur grief-stricken nightmares, all summer suddenly struck you right in the chest.

Your eyes widened.

"No. Theo please don't tell me-" you stutter and he looks away ashamed. And he tells you the one thing you wish you would have never heard.

'His son is my best friend. My father wants to get into his good graces again; I have no choice.'

Even his voice in your head sounds despondent.

"Oh Teddy." you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

"I'm to receive the mark during the Christmas holidays." he mumbles dejectively into your hair. "Hell of a Christmas present."

"How good is your legillimens ability?" Pansy asks you. "Can you block people out."

"I can lock my thoughts away if I really focus on it. But anytime people get into my head," you stare pointedly at Theo, who smiles innocently at your accusation, "it gives me the biggest migraine."

"You need to practice more, then." Pansy says, decidedly. "You won't survive if you can't do it instinctively. Mattheo can help you."

You outright laughed and shook your head out of disbelief.

"There is absolutely no way Riddle will help me. He hates my friends, hell he hates me, too."

"Well despite that," Theo intercepts, his brow furrowed with doubt. "Your one of our closest friends, tesoro."

"And we're loyal to a fault." Pansy says, gripping your hand in her's. "It's not limited to our Housemates. He'll help you because we care about you."

It's not much of a secret that Mattheo Riddle had inherited more than just his father's boyish looks and charm. He had inherited some of his powers too, including legillimancy. Rumour has it, he was miles better than the likes of Professor Snape and Dumbledore himself. But you highly doubted that. He was only a few months older than you, so he couldn't possibly be at the same levels as the most powerful wizard of your age. Surely.

Seeing the doubt written across your face, Pansy squeezed your hand again.

"You don't have to trust him. But trust us. Trust that we will make sure he doesn't take the piss and actually helps you."

"What about Harry?" You ask. "And Ron and Hermione, the Order. What am I meant to tell them. They won't be thrilled that I'm spending time with Voldemort's son, let alone taking lessons in Legillimency of all things from him."

"You can put up a tutoring farce or something of the sort." Theo says, as if he knew you were going to counter them immediately. The pinch in the back of your head was enough proof of that.

"Yes!" Pansy agrees, nodding vehemently along with Theo's ramblings. "Matt can't cast a rune to save his life."

"That's because he's absolutely terrible at drawing them. Which is funny, all things considered." Theo says, though he doesn't elaborate as to why and you don't bother to ask. You knew Riddle wasn't the best at Ancient Runes; how he was still enrolled in the class was a mystery to you.

"He's already agreed to help you, as a favour to me." Theo says. "So it's entirely up to you."

"Why are you trusting me with this?" you question, staring between your two friends.

"Like it or not, you're our one way ticket to the right side of this war, tesoro. You know as well as I do that Potter needs as much help as he can get. And you need to protect your mind so that the Dark Lord can't get into your head if you ever have the pleasure of his company." Theo says, all amusement evaporating from his face.

"So are you in?" Pansy asks as she heads towards the door. "Because there's no backing out from here, and I really don't fancy obliviating you."

"Yes, Pans may end up zapping away all your memories rather than this one." She hits Theo's arm and glares at him as he sends her a smug grin.

You know the risks. You don't know what this will mean for your current friendships. But you know that Theo is right. Harry needs all the help he can get. Having Theo and Pansy on your side could be a turning point in this brewing war.

"I'm in." you say, nodding your head in agreement. "But on one condition, keep the snarky comments to a minimum about Ron, Mione and Harry, please. And relay that message to the rest of your friends too."

"Already done, tesoro." Theo says, ruffling your hair, grinning when you swat his hand away with a glare that mirrored Pansy's previous one.

You question what he means for a moment when the back of your skull begins to burn with a dull ache. You cradle the back of your neck with your hand, wincing at the sting as Mattheo's deep, raspy voice fills every corner of your mind.

'Lessons start tomorrow night, Princess. Don't make me regret this.'

He was already in your head and you can only sigh. It was going to be a long year.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

A little while later, you reach the compartment that your other friends had been occupying at the same time that Harry and Neville seemed to be leaving it.

"Where are you two off to?" You ask as they move away from the open doorway, letting you get past them.

"To meet Professor Slughorn." Neville said, although he looked a mixure of nervous and confused.

"Who the hell is that?" you look at Hermione as you go inside, leaving Harry and Neville on their venture.

"A new Professor, apparently." she replied. "What took you so long?"

You knew that your friends, minus maybe Harry, had little to no legillimency skills. But nevertheless, you cleared your mind, as best as you could, of the conversation you'd had with Theo and Pansy.

"Pansy was catching me up on some gossip." you said flipantly as you pulled out a book from your never ending bag. "How else are we meant to know everything that goes on outside of our little circle, now that Lee, Angelina and the twins have graduated?"

Ron and Hermione laugh at that, before Ron's face drops.

"Listen, be careful around them this year, yeah." he said, his voice low, full of concern. "I know they're your friends but we went to see Fred and George's new shop, before you came to stay with us, and watched Malfoy go into Borgin and Burke's with a bunch of known Death Eaters."

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Theo would be participating in those meeting come Christmas time. That must mean that Draco was already involved.

"Well you know what sort of things they sell there." you say hesitantly. "It probably doesn't mean anything."

Hermione scoffed. "Try telling that to Harry. I think he's convinced that Malfoy and Riddle have already been inducted."

"Wouldn't bloody surprise me." Ron mutters venomously. "They're both cut from the same cloth." They all are. That's what worries you.

You fall silent shortly after that. The conversation only picking up again when Neville came back to the compartment, with Ginny following behind him.

Harry was nowhere in sight.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your bespeckled best friend was unusually absent for the remainder of the train journey. When the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade station and you all found a carriage to settle in, he was still nowhere to be seen.

"Where on Earth is he?" Mione muttered as you clambered onto a carriage.

As you did, you stared at the beautiful winged creatures that guided the vessel up the widing path. All you could see for a brief moment was Sirius' body entering The Veil and his soul physically leaving the planes of which you were stood on. It was strange to think that one day, in the past, he was travelling to school with his friends, just like you were; innocent to the throes of war and true loss.

"He's probably already in a carriage and didn't wait for us. Wouldn't be the first time." Ron assured, although his face betrayed his words as he looked as worried as you and Hermione.

You were unconvinced. Even more so when you split off towards the Ravenclaw table upon arriving to the Great Hall and saw, not to your surprise, Mattheo Riddle with bloody and bruised knuckles.

As you sat beside Luna Lovegood you felt that same painful, prickling sensation that you did on the train. He was watching you, and he continued to watch you with his cold, assessing stare through the sorting ceremony and Dumbledore's welcome speech.

Your attention was brought to the doors of the Great Hall where Harry seemed to materialise, with Snape's looming figure directly behind him. But what you noticed the most in the bright glow of floating candles that bothered you more than his lack of punctuality, was the bloody tissue he was dabbing at his poorly-fixed broken nose, which he did not have when you last saw him hours earlier.

People stared and whispered as he made his way to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. But your attention was pulled to where Crabbe and Goyle were sat snickering from their seats beside Draco.

You narrowed your eyes at Riddle, who was still looking at you.

'Got a staring problem, Princess?'

Merlin he infuriated you. You focused on him as you thought of your response.

'Says you. Did you do that to his face?'

He smirked. 'Did I do what? Potter looks as dashing as ever.'

You didn't give him a response, instead turning your attention to Theo, who was chatting to Lorenzo Berkshire.

'Did Riddle do that to Harry?' You asked and you watch as Theo startles before maintaining the same facade of conversation.

'No. It was Draco. Harry was eavesdropping on his conversation with Blaise. Matt was with me and Enzo.'

'So why the fuck is your oh-so-great friend covered in blood?'

'Some git looked at him the wrong way.'

Your question was answered, but you were still left unsatisfied. And Riddle's stare had still not faltered, which added to your growing bad mood.

'Stop fucking staring at me, Riddle. And stay out of my head.'

He smirked wickedly and finally looked away, taking the prickling sensation along with him, but a migraine remained in its place.

chapter one!! 🤭🤭🤭 its basically the same as the original but a little more developed and it delves a little into meadow's trauma at the start of the year/end of her fifth year. i hope you enjoyed it xoxoxoxo

taglist:

@supersecretsamm @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @nicoleeblossom @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @rafecameronsgf

@sunshine-lvrr @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @lushleona

@whatsupb18

[iamgonnagetyouback]

꒰🍒꒱ ! INTRODUCING CHERRY!READER

cherry!reader is a human firecracker with a cherry gloss smile and a wandering heart. she's soft in the way cotton candy melts and sharp in the way it sticks to your fingers. the kind of girl who hums taylor swift into her sleeve and holds grudges in a secret diary that no one knows exists (so yes, after reading this even you don't know it does). she’s the prettiest kind of mess—and maybe, maybe she's a little too much but she's also just like a song you want to play on repeat just to catch every lyric.

little quirks she has

loves physical touch (a hand on someone’s arm, a head on someone’s shoulder)

a people pleaser… until someone tries to control her

smiles sweetly while doing the exact opposite of what she was told

reapplies cherry chapstick like a ritual.

won’t talk about her bad days unless someone really asks. then it all spills out like jam from a cracked jar

laughs the loudest, jokes the fastest—but sometimes she wonders if she’s exhausting. if maybe people only like the idea of her

she tries to act cool, but she blushes so easily

writes love letters she never sends

hums love songs under her breath without realizing

nicknames everyone (even strangers, teachers, baristas. “thanks, jellybean!”)

draws hearts on people’s hands with pen

makes playlists for everything—her crush, a rainy tuesday, the vibe of a fruit bowl.

sends voice notes instead of texts

starts fake arguments like “be honest. would you still love me if i was a worm?” (and gets genuinely offended if the answer isn’t yes)

sings random jingles mid-sentence like “this is a betrayal~ da-na-na~”

things she says (constantly)

“i’m not being dramatic, you’re just underreacting.”

“you’re lucky i’m cute or i’d be so annoying.”

“that’s a you problem, bestie.”

“i love love. like i’m obsessed with being obsessed.”

“i can't cry! i just did my makeup..”

“do you think if i disappeared you'd still see cherries and think of me? be honest.”

🍒 best paired with: theodore nott, mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire, remus lupin, james potter, spencer reid, jess mariano, neil perry, peter parker

[look-who-s-inside-again]

LOVE a good stalking trope (I know it’s not technically the same but still)

Had to give matty the most severe shower in my head and basically burn his room down to enjoy this, because I’ve decided this is the I-can-fix-him final boss: hygiene

Your Favorite Streamer’s Favorite Simp

summary: Mattheo Riddle, incel king of the gaming underworld, had become a blushing, obsessed little simp. characters: gamer! mattheo. gamer girl! reader warnings: just matty being gross and pathetic word count: 1.1k

Mattheo Riddle existed in darkness.

Not metaphorical darkness-no, literal, suffocating, LED-lit gloom. His blackout curtains hadn’t been pulled open in at least six months, and his window had a suspicious fogginess to it, like even the glass was sick of him. He lived hunched over in a high-backed gaming chair with a shredded headrest and crumbs permanently embedded in the seat. His desk was sticky in places he refused to investigate, and his keyboard was missing the F key. He hadn’t needed it anyway.

Shirtless. Always. His hair was in a state of constant frizz and flop, pushed back by a sweat-stained headset that lived on his head like a parasite. His grey sweatpants hung off his hips, loose and threatening to fall, but somehow clinging on for dear life-like the rest of his will to exist.

He didn’t talk to people. He screamed at them. Through his mic. On Discord. In all caps.

And he was perfectly content in his swampy little goblin lair-until he clicked on her.

It was an accident. Some algorithm mistake. He’d been rage-scrolling through streams while waiting for his cursed modded Skyrim to finish patching. Most of what he saw made his eyes roll so hard they practically detached-people faking their rage, faking their laughs, faking their personalities.

And then-

Pink.

So much pink.

Her thumbnail was like getting hit in the face with a strawberry cupcake. A girl in a sweater two sizes too big, cheeks squished against a plushie, her headphones adorned with sparkly Sanrio stickers and little pastel charms. Her eyes were wide and full of that anime sparkle, and her stream title?

“soft cozy chaos | come play ✧˖° ☁︎˖°”

He clicked on it ironically. He told himself it was ironic.

And then her voice hit.

“Hiii sweet beans! I hope you’re having the softest little day ever~!!”

Mattheo froze.

She was playing some goofy game he’d mocked relentlessly before-one with bouncy colors and squeaky sound effects. And she sucked at it. She couldn’t aim for shit. She kept falling off ledges and apologizing to her character like it was a real person.

“Oh nooo, I didn’t mean to! I promise I’ll do better this time, you precious thing, I swear-”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He was slack-jawed, staring, heart slowly crawling up into his throat.

What… what was this?

She giggled. Like an actual giggle. High-pitched. Unfiltered. The kind of laugh people tried to fake but she just… did it.

Mattheo felt like he’d been physically slapped with glitter.

He stared at her chat. It was full of usernames with emojis in them. People calling her “angel” and “bunbun” and “gamer fairy queen.”

He looked down at himself.

A half-naked, sweaty, with Cheeto dust under his nails.

Pathetic.

He donated before he could stop himself. Five bucks. Anonymous. He just wanted to see what her alert looked like.

A rain of hearts and twinkles fell across the screen.

Her eyes lit up.

“Anonymous?? Thank you so soooo much! That was super kind of you!” She hugged her plushie and held it to her cheek. “I hope something really nice happens to you today. Like… maybe your favorite song plays when you need it most.”

He made the ugliest noise. Like a dying animal. It just escaped him.

Mattheo scrambled. He made an account. A new one. MattheoRiddle88. (He’d used the name before, but this time it felt like he had something to prove.)

He sent another donation. Ten bucks.

She said his username. She said it sweetly.

“MattheoRiddle88! That’s such a cool name-thank you, thank you!” She did a little hand wiggle dance. “You guys are spoiling me tonight! I’m gonna cry fr!!”

FR. She said fr.

He clutched his chest.

He watched the entire stream. All four hours. He ignored his friends’ pings, ignored the game he’d been meaning to finish. He watched her get excited over a new keychain, talk to her chat like they were her childhood friends, and sing quietly off-key while she waited in a loading screen.

When she ended stream with a sleepy, “Goodnight, my sweet beans… I hope you sleep like a marshmallow cloud,” he whispered, out loud, alone in his room:

“You too.”

And then panicked because he said it like she could hear him.

The next night, he was there again. This time with snacks and a blanket. (He told himself it wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t. He just happened to have time.) He donated every stream. Just small things. And she remembered his name. Started calling him “Matty.”

He hadn’t been called a nickname in years.

Now? She said it at least once a night.

He changed his whole schedule for her stream. Reorganized his Discord sessions. Started combing his hair before his monitor turned on. Started buying pink snacks. Once, he even watched a Sanrio lore video to understand why she kept talking about a bunny named My Melody.

Mattheo Riddle, incel king of the gaming underworld, had become a blushing, obsessed little simp.

He was deep in it.

And if anyone tried to talk shit about her? He was already typing, already defending her in chat like his life depended on it.

She didn’t know him. Not really. Not yet.

But Mattheo knew her.

And he’d die before he missed another stream.

[nottscherry]

ok ok what about dealer!mattheo has to pick up his girl from the bar because she got too drunk and he’s all mad at first but then takes care of reader ♡

it was 3 in the morning and mattheo was already irritated that you weren’t picking up his calls or answering his texts. he knew you were out with friends but when you don’t answer your phone, he always assumes the worst. and then finally, he got a call from your friend that you were wasted and he needed to come pick you up.

great. so while he was at home worried sick about you, you were off getting shitfaced without a care in the world. mattheo grabbed his keys and headed out the door. the drive to the bar, he’s tense, his hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. he was not happy with you right now but he also knew in your drunken state that you were not capable of listening to a lecture from him.

arriving at the bar, mattheo bursts through the door, a big smile on your lips as you spot your handsome boyfriend. mattheo spots you immediately, your friends holding you up as it’s clear you’re too drunk to even fully stand right now. “matty!” you cheer, never been so happy to see your boyfriend. the big, goofy, drunken smile on your face and the way you said his nickname tugged at his heartstrings. fuck, you were cute when you were drunk.

once back at home, mattheo helps you into the bedroom, gently laying you on the king size bed. you moaned softly, your head lolling side to side, more drunken noises escaping your lips. mattheo begins taking off your heels, letting them clatter to the floor. his fingers work to undo your skirt next, but your hand lazily comes up to stop him. “woah. i have a boyfriend.” you slur.

mattheo laughs softly, nodding his head in amusement. “is that so, princess?” you nod your head, a drunken smile curling at your lips. “he calls me princess just like that too.” you hum. mattheo can’t help but laugh, his fingers working to tug your skirt down. “surprise baby, i’m your boyfriend.” he whispers softly, taking your tights off too before moving onto your shirt. “ohhhh.” you grin, letting mattheo sit you up to take your shirt off. “hiii baby.” you coo.

“hi sweet girl.” he smiles, leaning in to gently kiss your cheek. he was frustrated earlier and undeniably angry, but you always had a way to melt that raging fire inside him. especially being all drunk and absolutely adorable — he was wrapped around your finger. once you’re fully naked, just how you like to sleep, mattheo covers you up with the duvet, making sure you’re comfortable. “can you tell my boyfriend i wanna cuddle?”

mattheo chuckles, nodding his head as he begins undressing himself as well. “i’ll let him know right away, princess.” he crawls into bed right behind you, his strong arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you back flush against him. recognizing his scent instantly, you smile happily, snuggling into him as you slowly drift off to sleep. “i love you.” mattheo whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple before falling asleep next to the love of his life.

dealer!mattheo m.list. nav.

[yasministration]

tie a tie - mattheo riddle

wanna bet au summary: after six years of going to beauxbatons, you have never once had to wear a tie in your life, which brings you to an unfortunate situation on your first day at hogwarts. luckily, mattheo offers his help. wc: 0.7k

The silky tie in your hands felt soft, but the article of clothing was unfamiliar to you as it glided through your fingers. The mirror presented you in a different light than ever before, now wearing a skirt and a crisp white button up shirt. The uniform felt so… waitressy and borderline unflattering — nothing like the elegant long blue dress you wore back at beauxbatons, suiting everyone's body type. You sighed; at least the ugly shirt somehow flattered your shape, cinching your waist.

The uniform didn’t bother you too much though, especially not when you had a soft jumper to cozy up in on colder days. But there was one problem, especially because Pansy had already gone down to the common room while you finished getting ready. You didn’t know how to tie a tie.

You’ve never had to do so before in your life, but still, it made you feel incompetent. Sighing, you brushed your hair over your shoulder and secured your bag on it, the tie clutched in your hand as you descended down the stairs to the common room. You were glad to know that you weren’t the last one downstairs – Draco was still nowhere in sight.

Eyes lifted up at the sound of your short heels clacking on the marble floor, and you smiled shyly at the sight of your four new friends’s eyes glued to you. You approached Mattheo, who was the only person standing up, shifting your weight from foot to foot. His eyes were immediately attracted to the collar of your shirt, noticing the absence of your tie.

“Um, I don’t know how to tie a tie.” You told him quietly, feeling your cheeks go hot. Mattheo’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he only nodded his head, offering you a comforting smile. He opened his hand, and you placed the tie in his palm, swallowing thickly.

“We’ve got to head down to breakfast in a couple of minutes,” He started, snaking his hand between your neck and strands of hair to sling the tie underneath your collar. “But I’ll teach you how to do it yourself this afternoon.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on Mattheo’s face as his nimble fingers worked at your tie. Your heartbeat raced at the close proximity to the boy, so close you could hear his quiet breathing. He lifted the knot upwards until it rested in the right position, then patted his hands down on your shoulders, smoothing your shirt down. Mattheo’s eyes finally met yours, and he noticed the shy expression on your face. “You’ll be fine. Hogwarts isn’t all that scary. Other than Professor McGonagall.”

“Okay, let’s head down?” You turned around to face Blaise, noticing how both Pansy and Theo stood up at his words. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Draco entering the common room at an unhurried pace. Pansy stepped towards you, and you smiled kindly as she scanned your appearance quickly. She nodded, bringing two hands up to straighten your collar. Dropping her hands, she offered you an arm. You grinned, hooking an arm through hers and letting her lead you out of the common room.

Mattheo watched as you walked away, clearing his throat when Theo clapped a hand on his shoulder, a teasing smirk on his face. “Alright, Riddle. No denying anything anymore.”

Mattheo huffed, tugging at the sleeves of his jumper. “Shut up.” Blaise rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips tugged upwards into a smile anyway. When Draco caught up to him, leaning into Blaise’s side and asking “Did I just witness Mattheo doing up her tie?”, the boy nodded, unable to help a teasing chuckle from escape.

Feeling the eyes of his friends on him, Mattheo turned his head back to glance at Draco and Mattheo. Draco waved at his friend enthusiastically, and Mattheo raised a finger to flip him off. It was left unsaid between the friend group that Mattheo had already shown you a softness that he never displayed around anyone but his closest friends – his family. But when they entered the Great Hall and Mattheo immediately beelined to take a seat next to you, causing Daphne to glance at him confusedly, they knew many more people than just the friend group would notice a change in Mattheo’s behaviour.

taglist:  @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @slytherin-princess-x, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes,  @dlljdhsh, @girlontheblock, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @rhettsluvr, @gr1mesgirl, @iluvhrj, @genterom903, @hisparentsgallerryy, @le000xxgrd, @salvatt1, @charli123456789, @sharkers00, @reallifemermaidprincess, @joonbread, @rhettsluvr, @iluvhrj

[kaciebello]

Ooh hi! I have an idea for slytherin boys texts! Could you do texts where the reader is babysitting? I've seen you do babysitting eith the slythering boys so I wanted a reader version maybe? Love you.

You are Babysitting

Slytherin boys texts genre: crack warning: none note: i used to write the fanfictions Navigation Masterlist

Taglist

 @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys , @wnbweasley, @africancracker , @broadwaybaby123, @stardustsymphony , @luckycharmedpuff , @romantasyreader28, @chelawrites , @catching-fire-in-the-wind , @zubblebubble , @hecate-frenchfries  , @sunnyteume , @msslytherin00 @blogfandom123 , @mandmilovehim , @ahead-fullofdreams

[sabxynsweet]

mattheo hears sweetheart!reader talk about him

based loosely on this request <3 (and a few other asks)

"What's the deal with you and Riddle?"

Mattheo can only faintly hear Pansy's voice through your phone speaker, though it's muffled significantly through the dorm room door.

But your voice? Clear as day.

He does feel guilty listening in, especially since you probably have no idea how thin the door to your room is, but he can't help himself.

He leans his head closer to the door, his curls pressing against the wood, holding CDs in his arms.

"I really like him." You pause, he can picture you biting your lower lip the way you always do when you're thinking on how to word something, "He makes me feel special - like I matter."

"You do matter." He can faintly hear Pansy say, he's sure you smile, he agrees with what Pansy says.

"Thanks." You huff out a soft laugh, "Like, he really does listen when I talk and I never feel like I'm too much when I'm around him."

"I know I'm a lot to handle, but, I don't know," You continue, the end of your sentence dwindling off, he leans in closer to hear you, "He handles me, you know?"

"That's sweet," Pansy coos, "I never expected that from him."

You laugh again, he feels the corner of his lips twitch up.

"He is still, well, you know, him, though." He feels his heart sink.

"He makes me feel so special but he also makes me feel so, so stupid."

You're not stupid, he wants to tell you and it reminds him of what he said that day he kissed you.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asks.

"I feel stupid for wanting him - for thinking he wants me for real."

He does want you for real, do you still not know?

"Babe, you're still wondering if he wants you for real?" He has never been more thankful for Pansy, "He is down so horribly bad for you, everyone can see it."

Probably not how he would have worded it. Mattheo rolls his eyes at the statement, but can't deny its truth.

"I know but," You pause, "Sometimes I'm worried he's playing me."

"Wha-" You cut her off.

"No listen, I feel like maybe he's just with me for fun or 'wanting me' is just a phase that'll pass and he knows that and that's why he's not making it official." He heels his heart thud in his chest.

"That's why he won't say he loves me." You say, voice so much smaller that he has to lean in closer to the door, "I don't want to be with someone who doesn't love me."

"It's pathetic, I know."

Pansy, please tell her how wrong she is. Pansy, please tell her that I’ve never wanted anyone for so long. Pansy, please tell her that I've never been so close to being able to love someone before her.

"I guess I can see what you mean." Fuck.

"But, this is the most I've seen him care about anyone - let alone a girl." Pansy says, "Give him time, he'll come around."

You sigh.

"I will, I'm down horribly bad for him too, unfortunately." You sigh forlornly.

"He really does like you, you know."

Mattheo looks down at the CDs in his hands, the ones that he brought with you in mind.

The ones that always remind him of you. He planned to leave them in your dorm so he had an excuse to come around more, if only to listen to the love songs that had your name wrapped around each lyric.

"I know." He hears you say, he lets a breath.

You make him feel stupid, too. Because the way you could make him dive into the deep side of the Great Lake, if you only called his name, goes against everything he has been taught.

"I have to go, Pans. Mattheo will come around any minute." You say, "Love, love, love you."

"Love you!" Pansy hums back, he envies how easy it is for you two to say those words, like it's second nature and not a promise Mattheo has never been able to make before.

He hears the faint sound of your phone hitting your desk, he quickly turns on his heel. He paces the common room twenty minutes before returning to your door.

they’re both a little stupid, i think. but like! stupid in love <3

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x @peterparkerspersonalplaything @kiessecretcove @kiesrepostarchive

[redeemingvillains]

dove - mattheo riddle

─✶⋆.˚ 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰, 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔰

summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.

warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.

word count: 6.6k 🫣

soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots

a/n: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡

If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.

Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.

On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.

By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.

It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).

He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.

Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.

Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.

There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?

You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.

You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.

Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.

"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.

"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.

"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.

Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.

He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.

What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.

His eyes narrowed.

Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.

You.

He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.

It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.

If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.

Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.

Seamus shuddered.

Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.

She's his weakness he realized.

"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.

Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.

You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.

"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.

But it was like kissing a statue.

His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.

"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.

You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.

"Are you okay?—"

"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.

His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.

Mattheo was a lot of things.

But careless with you was not one of them.

Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.

"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.

He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.

And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.

Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.

At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.

You tried to run.

He grabbed you.

"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.

Dove?

He'd never once called you that.

You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.

You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.

His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.

You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.

As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.

You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.

"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.

Shit.

You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.

"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.

You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.

"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"

He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.

"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."

He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.

"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"

You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.

By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.

"Bloody hell."

"This is fucking mental, mate."

"Matty is going to kill them."

And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.

"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.

"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.

Find him?

"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.

"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.

Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?

A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.

"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.

"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.

Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.

Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.

He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.

"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.

"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.

"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.

You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.

Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.

"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.

The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.

You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.

Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.

His face fell.

And he stopped breathing.

A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.

Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.

Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.

But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.

"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.

You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.

And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.

"You" you whispered.

His face scrunched in confusion.

"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.

"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.

"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.

Theo took a protective step closer to you.

Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.

"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."

"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.

"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."

Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.

He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.

"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."

You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.

He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.

"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"

And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.

"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"

Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.

"I love you" he whispered.

And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.

You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.

"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.

You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.

You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.

Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.

"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"

"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.

"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.

"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.

Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.

"What kind of sick fuck?—"

"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.

And it wasn't a turn of phrase.

He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.

"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.

"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.

Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.

"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.

Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.

He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.

"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."

"Matty, that's not—"

"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.

You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.

Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.

The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.

The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.

Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.

You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.

Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.

Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.

"C'mon dove, help me out?"

And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.

Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.

Five.

Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.

The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.

Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.

And then chaos erupted.

Four.

Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.

Three.

Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.

Two.

You glanced at your boyfriend.

He hadn't moved.

He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.

Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.

One.

Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.

"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.

"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.

By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.

The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.

"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.

"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"

Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.

You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.

"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"

"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.

"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."

Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.

"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.

He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.

You sighed.

"This is just... a lot" you admitted.

"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.

You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.

An hour passed.

And then four more.

You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.

You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.

It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.

You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.

"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.

"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.

You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.

His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.

But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.

"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?

"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.

"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."

You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.

He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.

Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.

Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.

His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.

But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...

You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.

Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.

"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.

Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.

Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.

"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"

Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.

You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.

"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."

Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.

You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.

And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.

"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.

But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.

You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.

On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.

On his right, RAPIST.

He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.

"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.

"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.

Blaise blew him a kiss.

And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.

But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.

Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'

And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'

And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.

"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."

His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.

You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.

“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girllblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen, @chelawrites, @loverliner, @smut-anarchy, @locknco, @pizzaapeteer

[simp-for-love]

Mattheo being a distracting boyfriend

A/N: I decided to post some of my thoughts and scenes that I picture in my head more often. Sooo, enjoy ♡

Warnings: brief swearing, suggestive thoughts/memories, make-out-ish, pet names, mild teasing, academic neglect (oops), a hot boyfriend (yay)

Word count: ~850

Your boyfriend was so distracting. If you look up 'hot mess' in the dictionary, you're sure there would be a detailed description of Mattheo.

You were trying to get your Charm's essay done in his dorm room, panting over the parchment when he wandered after the Quidditch practice. He had been really good at leaving you alone for most of the day, to give you some space to work on your important assignment — but the absence of him made you feel even more needy for his attention and presence than usual.

And now he was here. All tall, flushed, and practically glowing under the dim dorm lighting. Mattheo wasn't just handsome. Handsome didn't cover it. He was unfair, the kind of beautiful that made your chest ache because he didn't even try.

His dark curls were damp from the steam of his post-practice shower, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion. The green Slytherin jersey clung to him like a second skin, outlining every sharp angle of his shoulders, the cut of his chest, the way his lean muscle moved when he stripped off his gloves with lazy fingers. His collar was loose, exposing a teasing glimpse of his collarbone and the strong line of his throat, flushed from the wind and adrenaline. His trousers sat low on his hips, streaked with mud, and Merlin help you, you could see the veins along his forearms as he flexed his hands.

You swallowed hard, but your mind was already spiraling. It wasn't just how he looked — it was what you knew already as well. You'd felt those strong thighs before, bracketing your hips. You'd felt those big hands gripping your waist firmly and gently, pinning you down like you weighed nothing. You knew the exact heat of his skin when he pressed up against you, the way his abs tightened when he groaned your name into your mouth. Your mind wandered to the way those muscles felt under your palms last time he pulled you against him after a match, his hands gripping your thighs as if they belonged there. The way his voice dropped when he whispered your name against your neck, smug and satisfied — both with his victory and having you cheering him on. And now, sitting there pretending to care about this stupid essay, all you could think about was every single time he'd used that body to completely ruin you. The memory alone had your thighs pressing together under the desk.

He didn't even have to try. He just existed and your brain turned to useless, lovesick mush.

You didn't realize you were shamelessly staring until his voice slid into the quiet room like silk.

"Y'know," he murmured, putting his gloves in the closet slowly, "for someone who begged me not to distract her today, you're looking at me like I'm your next meal."

You felt your cheeks burn, and immediately tried to duck your head back into your essay, pretending you hadn't just been full-on eye-fucking him from across the room. "I wasn't," you mumbled, utterly unconvincing.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, crossing the room to drop onto the seat beside you. "Liar," he whispered, brushing his knuckles across your jaw before leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "You miss me, love?"

You nodded before you could stop yourself, and he grinned — lazy, wicked, and so stupidly pretty it should be illegal.

"I knew it," he said, voice low and warm, brushing his nose lightly against yours. "Could feel you missing me all the way on the pitch."

"You're so full of yourself," you whispered, but your voice lacked any real bite. Especially when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world he wanted to look at all his life.

"Mhm," he hummed, dropping his forehead gently to yours. "Only because you keep feeding my ego, sweetheart."

His fingers found the edge of your parchment, sliding it away like it was nothing more than an inconvenient barrier between him and you. "You've been working too hard," he murmured, mouth so close you could feel the heat of it against your skin. "Time for a little break."

You barely had time to protest before his lips were on yours. Soft at first. Just the press of familiarity, comfort and home.

Then deeper, slower, more intent. Like he had all the time in the world to kiss you properly and planned on using every second of it. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jersey, pulling him closer on instinct, desperate for more. He smiled against your lips when he felt it.

"There she is," he breathed out with a smile. "My sweet needy girl."

You made a sound in the back of your throat — half indignation, half want — but it dissolved the second he kissed you again, open-mouthed and warm, with just the barest scrape of teeth.

Your essay was definitely doomed.