#how mattheo riddle would react

[sp7-mr]

[deadghosy]

How the Slytherin boys would pick you up

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Tom Riddle

He picked you up definitely bridal style.

Not a romantic type of guy, but he knows how to pick a person up. Mostly a lady.

Mattheo Riddle

He’s in between bridal style and just putting you over his shoulder

He can’t chose which one himself 🤷🏾

Theodore Nott

This tall ass bastard picks you up over his shoulder 💗😭

Definitely does it to humiliate you a little

Lorenzo Berkshire

Bridal style, just like tom but it’s am more romantic💗

Definitely does it when you two are celebrating something and he just lifts you up and does it

[skyrigel]

Break-up

Characters : Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini. Pancy Parkinson ( background )

How Slytherin boys will react when you ask them for break up.

Warning : might be toxic, alcoholism, possesive and obsessive behaviour, Reader feels they are too much ( in Blaise Zabini hc, you can skip that )

@skyrigel note: I love them <33

Mattheo Riddle

He's not going to listen a word so don't even bother.

He will shut you up real quick in more than one way, speaking too loud, cutting you mid, changing topics and rushing to classes that don't even exist and his most favourite, kissing you.

He would kiss you so hard that every thought inside your head would evaporate in fuzzy vapour, the bubbles in your head popping with each moan that would escape your throat.

“You were saying something?” He would ask so wickedly, amused with the dumb look you have plastered on your face and relishing while your fumble within words.

“ I don't think it's important." He would take your hand, kissing the inside of your palm, his sweet words vibrating through your skin.

“ yeah, not important.”

Draco Malfoy

Ofcourse he would be a nonchalant bastard about it, despite the brimming tears at the inside of his eyes.

“ oh, fancy potter now, don't you ? ” he would snarl, accusingly, his voice harsh and contempt choking him.

Draco would do everything wrong, say the wrong things, do even more.

He would start by parading Pancy around, so desperate that he would also accept Miss Greengrass's date invite.

But he would also cry, as soon as the facade will crumble, he would grip the sink till his knuckles went white, face wet and red with tears that wouldn't stop.

Then a word with his mother would do the miracle and the next thing you know would be a very drunk Draco howling and sobbing his undying love for you, refusing to leave and would make everyone listen how much he loves you, and how you belong with him.

“ Draco.” you winced at the grimness left behind after dries tears, softening.

“ Go back to your dorm.”

“ kiss me night and i'll go.” Draco slurred, you were pretty sure you smiled as soon as he said 'fight' instead of night.

“No.”

“ Yes!” He would lean down at you, pouting, and how much you loved this boy, all his tantrums, all his shenanigans. Your pretty, smart and silly boyfriend.

“Okay.” you breathed, pecking his cheek, tasting his tears and how much you hated it.

“ I'll be good...good for you.” he will be, you thought.

Tom Riddle

“ You decided that yourself ? ” Tom would whisper ever so dangerously, pressing closer, you could hear the pitch silence outside the tapestry.

“ It's not... It's not working Tom.” you knew he loved you but he was gone half the time, half the time with books that were too bold and dark, of magic that was malicious beyond your wits.

“ yeah ? ” He would smear his thumb across your face, kneading your cheek and you tried your best to stay quiet but the arousal that lurched inside you, just by his mere touch, sometimes just the way he looked at you, like he was part of your soul.

Tom would smirk, delighted when you moaned for him like that, he wasn't accepting at first how you drived his crazy just by existing. He wouldn't let you go, never ever.

“ I want to bury my soul into you.” His nose mapping your neck, taking your scent.

“ oh.” you trembled when his hands worked their way inside your shirt, cold rings blazing in your warm flesh.

“ But it will take time my darling.” his disappointment flushed when he looked up at you, breathless and hot under him.

“ so for now...” his mouth twitched, Head boy Tom Riddle, sinking to his knees, eyes glinting so bright. Oh how much he wishes to mingle your souls together, how much.

Theodore Nott

He's going to sensible, furrowing hard but listen when you tell him all the reasons how it could'nt work , he's considerate enough to pat your back, soothing you, when you break down in between.

“ If you need time baby, then I'll be patient.” he would say, kissing your forehead.

He wouldn't sit next to you in classes despite his soul wanting to crawl out of his body and embrace you.

Theo only sometimes snuggled next to you in armchair, you couldn't even blame him for it was too cold

He was on his best behaviour ignoring the totally 'accidental' beat ups of guys who were going to ask you or almost did, but in either way they never showed up.

“ I see you aren't dating anyone.” He would make no attempt to get up from your lap, discarding your homework with a swish of his wand.

“ shut up, or i will pour this ink pot on you.” you would bristle like a cat, it was inevitable not to card your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp, he relaxed into your touch, chuckling.

“ It wasn't me.”

You sighed, looking at the bruised knuckles because your baby wasn't even trying to be subtle. He could have used his wand, phew.

“ c'mon, now can we please date again ? ” He would look up with puppy eyes, sticking out his lower lip to look extra cute. Shit, you shouldn't have told him that.

“ You guys stopped dating ? ” Draco asked, brow raised in question.

“ hey.” His fingers reached to trace your jaw, arching a little as you gaped a soft, ‘Theo’

“ Please, please, please.” He pleaded, his chin raised, as if he could claim your lips just like that.

“ Get yourself a room ! ” Pancy snapped, Theo only sneered while you looked away flushed pink.

“ Theo, stop.” you whined, when he got up, hawling you up in his arms as you wacked him repeatedly.

“ I've been a good boy.” he would mouth, smiling when you would hide your blush in the crook of his neck.

“ The only thing I am interested in breaking with you,” a pause, “ is my bed.”

Blaise Zabini

“ What did I do wrong ? ” that's his first question and you're already guilty.

“ It's just everything is so messy Zab, it's too much for me.”

He couldn't say anything more, the lump in his throat strangling each sound that passed between his cartilage.

“ Blaise...” you whispered when his whole face, that shined brighter than the whole sky withered away.

“ Hey...” you cooed and nudged him lightly and it was enough to break free the sob that grasped his chest, his whole heart. He hiccuped before large tears streamed down his coppery skin, gleaming in the basking glow of midnight.

“ Don't... please..d.. don't ” he sobbed harder, his whole body shaking.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer till your heart were crossed.

“ I am too much Blaise... Like a black hole.” you could never take away his glisten, never.

“ I love you.” he said, wrapping himself around you, closing his eyes as tear escaped and brushed against your clothes, love lorned and love sick.

“ I love you too.” because how could you not say it back ? When he loved you like you were the most precious one to him.

You will try, try your best and let him shine, protect him from your drakness, you have to try your best.

New Mattheo fic - Don't blame me

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[lov3notts]

okay be ready for some spamming, mora 😈so many many congrats on 1k !!! you deserve this and soooooo many more ahh.

now starting with cupid's arrow so i'm gonna go with mattheo riddle + "you stayed up…all night…for them. oh dude you're in love." from prompt 9 (12th prompt)

tysm i love youu ‹𝟹

1k celebration!!!; navigation

IM SO HAPPY WITH THIS ONEEE!!

The common room was quiet, the fireplace glowing low and golden. Most of the castle was asleep—should be asleep—but Mattheo hadn’t moved from the same worn armchair in nearly six hours.

His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flicked toward the door again.

Still no sign of you.

Mattheo sat alone on the worn green sofa, elbow propped on the armrest, bouncing his knee. The fire cracked softly. His eyes, however, were locked on the door.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.

It was late. You’d gone out — a date, of all things. Some Ravenclaw boy with too-perfect posture and too-nice manners who definitely didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, in Mattheo’s very humble opinion.

Still, he didn’t ask questions when you told him you were going. Just shrugged and said, “Have fun.”

Like it didn’t twist something awful in his gut.

He hadn’t moved from the common room since.

He muttered something under his breath, fingers raking through his curls in frustration. He told himself he wasn’t worried, just… annoyed. Annoyed that you hadn’t sent an owl or a note or anything.

He wasn’t checking the time. That was stupid. He wasn’t keeping track of how late it had gotten.

He was just waiting. That was all. Waiting in the dark. For you.

The sound of steps broke his trance.

He looked up—fast, hopeful, like his spine reacted before his brain could pretend not to care. But to his disappointment it wasn’t you- it was theodore

“You’re joking,” Theo mumbled, stepping off the last stair. “You’re still here?”

Mattheo looked away. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Theo squinted. “Didn’t you say you were gonna crash right after dinner?”

Mattheo shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

“Right.” Theo crossed the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the low table, and flopped into the armchair across from him. He cracked the bottle open, took a sip, then narrowed his eyes.

Theo raised an eyebrow, following his gaze to the door. A beat. Then he grinned.

“Oh, no way.”

Mattheo blinked slowly. “Shut up.”

“You’re waiting for her.”

“I’m not.”

Theo leaned forward, elbow on his knee, watching him. “You do realise it’s two in the morning and you’ve been sitting there doing nothing except watch the door like a sad little puppy.”

Mattheo finally turned his head, but only to glare. “Piss off.”

Theo smirked. “Nah, see, I would — if this weren’t absolutely pathetic.”

Mattheo shot him a look. “You done?”

Theo took another slow sip of water, grin widened like a cat with cream. “You stayed up… all night… for her.”

Mattheo glared, but didn’t argue.

Theo laughed. “Oh dude, you’re in love.”

“I am not in love” Mattheo snapped, just a bit too fast.

“You’re scowling at a door, Mattheo.”

Mattheo looked away.

“It’s because of that date, isn’t it?”

“Drop it.”

“No, no, this is good. Jealousy suits you. Makes your hair extra floofy.” Theo leaned forward, eyes glinting. “You’re picturing her smiling at someone else. Laughing at someone else’s dumb jokes. Maybe even kissing—”

“Shut up, Theo.”

Theo raised his hands in surrender, but the smugness on his face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying… for someone who’s always so damn cool, you sure look like a kicked puppy right now.”

Mattheo didn’t respond. Just rubbed a hand over his face.

Theo sat back in his chair, a little quieter now. “You’re not just into her,” he said. “You care about her. Enough to sit here until your spine turns to dust waiting for them to come back. That’s not some random crush. That’s... it.”

Mattheo swallowed, something flickering in his expression. “She don’t feel the same.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Says who?”

“I don’t know. She’s never said anything.”

“Neither have you.”

Mattheo didn’t answer.

Theo leaned forward again, more serious this time. “Look, I’m not one for romantic declarations or any of that Gryffindor-level nonsense. But you should probably stop lying to yourself before it eats you alive.”

Mattheo stayed still. Quiet. But his eyes had softened — not scared, not stubborn — just… exposed.

“She make me feel normal,” he said quietly, surprising even himself. “Like… not a Riddle. Just me.”

Theo blinked. That was more honesty than he was used to from his best friend.

“Then maybe you should tell her.”

Mattheo shook his head. “It’s easier like this.”

Theo smirked. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

Mattheo didn’t reply.

Then—

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold, scarf loose around your neck, and a dreamy, faraway look in your eyes. You didn’t see them at first, too busy unwinding your scarf and brushing snowflakes from your shoulders.

Mattheo straightened instantly, trying and failing to look casual. Theo noticed and nearly burst into laughter.

You finally looked up and paused. “Oh hey, i didn’t know anyone would still be awake.”

Theo smirked. “Some of us couldn’t sleep.”

Mattheo shot him a warning glare.

You smiled, a little shy. “I didn’t think I’d be that long…”

Mattheo stood slowly. “Was it good?” he asked, and it came out rougher than he intended.

You blinked. “What?”

“The date.”

Your eyes widened, just slightly. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I guess.”

Theo chimed in, “Guess?”

You gave him a look. “He was nice. Polite. Smart.”

Mattheo’s jaw twitched.

Theo shot Mattheo a look, full of fake admiration. “What a guy. Truly. You hearing this, Matty? Wow Someone get that boy a medal. Don’t you want to congratulate him personally?”

Mattheo ignored him. “Are you seeing him again?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

Something in Mattheo’s eyes flickered. “Right.”

There was an awkward pause.

You shifted on your feet. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Gonna head to bed—” You hesitated. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

Mattheo looked at you then, really looked, and quietly said, “I know.”

You gave a small smile. “Night, boys.”

As you walked past, Theo gave a long, dramatic sigh. Then under his breath—but just loud enough—he muttered:

“You’re so in love.”

Mattheo didn’t deny it.

But when he sat back down, still staring at the spot you’d stood, he felt it settle in his chest like thunder in a bottle.

Because he was.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[malfoysanctuary]

as much as I love writing...sometimes I get an itch for a good read myself. here are the stories I ALWAYS reach for, please check them out and give the authors some love ❤️‍🔥

*updated as I find good reads*

───────────────────────────────

✧.* fluff ⋆ | ˚꩜｡ series | ⚠︎ angst | 🔞 smut | ✪ g's star reads

Draco Malfoy

✧.* The Alchemy by (@lqveharrington) ✪ ⤷ Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup. ✧.* Someday by (@lqveharrington) ⤷ you and draco are from opposing houses, and you were terrified how your friends were going to react when they found out. ⚠︎ sweet disaster by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ you and draco are inseparable friends, but deeper feelings come to light when you're asked on a date with someone who is determined to take advantage of you. ✧.* Deck the Halls by (@writingsbychlo) ⤷ Narcissa has big plans for her son's girlfriend this time of year, and you're determined to live up to her expectations. 🔞 Flutterby Baby by (@agreeewrites) ✪ ⤷ Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project. 🔞 Bad Santa by (@agreeewrites) ⤷ Your boyfriend Draco has thrown the Christmas party of the year, and wears a Santa hat to make you smile. But jealousy quickly throws a wrench into your festive evening.

Theodore Nott

✧.* Words Unspoken by (@girllblogging777) ⤷ in a moment of loneliness and feeling misunderstood, theo finds out you also speak Italian. ✧.* careful, cara by (@iris-qt) ⤷ an oblivious Y/n misinterprets Theodore's flirtatious Italian nicknames and suave demeanor as mere politeness, while Theo grows increasingly perplexed by her indifference to his romantic overtures. 🔞 spoiled by (@dracosprettygirl) ⤷ Theo was convinced you'd never look his way—until a Hogsmeade date leaves your heart bruised and angry. Now, Theo's done hiding his feelings... And ready to ruin every man who ever made you feel unworthy. THE BEST LOVE STORIES by (@@writingsbychlo) ⤷ theo is in love and doesn’t want to have to hide it. ✧.* My Husband by (@bunny-1111) ⤷ The one thing that drives Theo literally crazy is when you call him "my husband"

Mattheo Riddle

✧.* veritaserum by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ when mattheo drinks veritaserum on a bet, he's confident he doesn't have anything to hide… until you show up. ✧.* cold comfort by (@redeemingvillains) ✪ ⤷ mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place. ⚠︎ the black lake by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way. ✧.* the playlist by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ enzo overhears something about you he shouldn't have and when he tells his friends, all hell breaks loose. ⚠︎ riddle's girl by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ mattheo has...feelings about you wearing his quidditch jersey. ˚꩜｡ the new girl by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ despite their best and most ardent efforts, each of the slytherin boys gets rejected by you, and can't figure out why, not knowing that one of them holds a secret that explains it all. ⚠︎ Dove by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ 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. ✧.* His Soft Spot by (@ravenclaw-for-all-seasons) ⤷ Mattheo Riddle's icy demeanor melts away in the presence of you, revealing a side of him that even his closest friends didn't expect. charmed, i'm sure by (@iris-qt) ⤷ feat. accidental truth serum, public chaos, and one very flustered reader)

Remus Lupin

🔞 Waiting by (@dismalflo) ✪ ⤷ you and Remus have been dancing around your feelings for each other for a while. Both too stubborn for your own good, but what happens when that stubbornness helps you both out?

Sirius Black

˚꩜｡ Hardass by (@ellecdc) ⤷ Sirius Black is all sharp edges and heat in the kitchen, until a quick-witted bartender strolls in, and leaves him completely undone.

Fred Weasley

✧.* through the seasons by (@kyber-crystal ) ⤷ he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too. 🔞 Another Man's Treasure by (@spencersmopbucket) ⤷ You're Cormac McLaggen's girlfriend — but Cormac pays more attention to Quidditch than you. Shame, shame.. Fred just can't let you go to waste. 🔞 Wicked by (@andy-15-07) ⤷ A lazy afternoon turns into something much more when Fred Weasley can't keep his eyes—or hands—off you

Lorenzo Berkshire

⚠︎ closed and locked by (@redeemingvillains) ⤷ you are overwhelming smitten with lorenzo berkshire. fact: you think he’s smitten with you too. but when you and pansy hear something you shouldn’t have, it has you questioning everything you thought you knew about hogwarts’ biggest flirt.

Why choose? (Poly)

✧.* emergency contact by (@cosmal) ⤷ james gets called when you faint at work. and then sirius. then remus. you feel awful. ✧.* The Boy is Mine by (@colouredbyd) ⤷ you’re quiet by nature, content in the background—until someone pushes too far. When a girl flirts with Remus, something shifts. With one kiss and a quiet claim, you remind everyone exactly who he ( and Sirius) belong to.

[lushleona]

bfb!mattheo who hears/sees tom fucking u and makes up a whole scenario where he can one up his brother while he staring from the crack in the door?

── .✦ boyfriend’s brother!mattheo watching you and tom through the door

warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v, voyeurism, swearing

he shouldn’t be here. 

he knows that. knows it in the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides, in the way his chest tightens with something worse than anger, something uglier than hate. knows it in the way his breath is fucking shallow, standing there like a goddamn ghost outside tom’s bedroom door, the sliver of space between the wood and the frame just big enough to see you.

and fuck—he wishes he couldn’t. wishes he could turn around, pretend he never heard the first telltale sounds, never saw the way your body moved beneath his brother, never had to watch you like this, spread out, panting, moaning his fucking name. tom. like you meant it.

his jaw clenches as he watches, eyes narrowing, assessing, criticizing. tom's movements are too stiff, too controlled, too fucking careful, like he’s handling glass instead of a girl who needs to be ruined.

his fingers twitch at his sides. tom’s grip on your waist is all wrong. it’s tight, but not tight enough—like he doesn’t even fucking realize what he has in his hands. your hips don’t lift high enough, your legs aren’t spread the way they should be. you need to be tilted forward just a little more—just enough to hit that one spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers claw at the sheets. tom won’t do it. tom doesn’t know. mattheo wants to fucking kill him for it.

pathetic.

he drags his tongue across his teeth, biting down on his cheek so hard he swears he tastes blood. he could do it better. he would do it better. he’d ruin you. have you trembling, crying his fucking name instead. make you feel it in your bones, make you crave him like sin.

his nails dig into his palms. tom’s voice is steady, collected, not even a goddamn growl in his throat. not desperate. mattheo hates him for it. he hates him for touching you without the kind of obsession that would drive a man mad.

he exhales sharply, his hand dragging down his face, trying to fight off the sick, burning jealousy twisting in his gut. it’s embarrassing, really, standing here, watching, but he can’t help himself. because the thought won’t leave his head—how much better he could make you feel.  

he wonders what you’d sound like if it was him instead. if you’d gasp the same way, if you’d arch the same way. if you’d look back at him with that dazed, hazy expression, lips parted, cheeks flushed, body trembling. he bets you would. he bets you’d look even prettier falling apart for him. bets he could make you shake, make you cry, make you forget every single fucking thing about his brother.

his cock throbs at the thought, and he lets out a sharp exhale, pressing his forehead against the wall, trying to will the heat away. he should leave. he should fucking leave.

but then he hears you whimper, soft and broken, and he sees the way tom barely reacts, the way he doesn’t even acknowledge what a fucking gift he’s been given, and something inside him snaps.

fucking tom. doesn’t deserve you.  

he licks his lips, dragging his teeth over the lower one, and exhales slowly. 

one day, he tells himself, he’s going to ruin you. one day, he’s going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing. and when that day comes, you’ll forget tom riddle ever fucking existed.

m.list

[multific]

The Cat and the Snake

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: Every night, Mattheo finds comfort in a black cat by the common room fire. He is completely unaware that the cat is you in animagus form.

Inspired by @rilakeila​'s work

The first time Mattheo spoke to you, you were curled up by the Slytherin common room fire in your Animagus form, a sleek black cat with piercing eyes.

You hadn’t meant to be caught.

You’d only shifted for a moment, seeking the warmth of the hearth and the comfort of solitude.

But Mattheo had entered the room in the dead of night, sighed heavily, and dropped onto the couch beside you, unaware of your true identity.

He ran a hand through his brown hair and muttered, “You’re lucky, you know. No one expects anything from a cat.”

You twitched your ears, listening, you looked at him.

“I bet you don’t get asked to be the heir of some psychopath,” he continued, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His voice was quiet but edged with bitterness. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, or live up to ridiculous expectations.”

You stared at him, tilting your head.

Mattheo Riddle, the supposed villain, the dark prince of Slytherin, was venting to a cat.

Then, to your shock, he reached out and scratched behind your ears. A pleased purr escaped your throat before you could stop it. How did he manage to find the perfect spot immediately?!

“See? You get it.” he smiled.

And that was how it began.

It became a habit.

You’d slip into your Animagus form late at night and find him in the common room, lost in thought. And every night, he would talk.

About how people only saw his last name, never him.

About the expectations, the pressure, and the whispers that followed him everywhere he went.

And in return, you would rub against his legs, curl up in his lap, or bump your head against his arm. You tried your best to silently reassure him.

He never knew it was you.

Until the night he almost kissed you.

It happened at a party in the Slytherin common room.

The air was filled with the scent of fire, whiskey and laughter, the green-tinged light flickering across the walls.

You stood by the bookshelf, watching Mattheo from across the room.

He was leaning against the desk, swirling his drink in one hand, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned.

And smirked.

Before you could react, he pushed off the counter and made his way toward you, moving through the crowd with ease.

“Didn’t think you were the party type,” he said, stopping just inches from you.

You swallowed. “I couldn't say the same for you.”

His smirk deepened. His gaze flickered over you as if studying something he couldn’t quite place. “You remind me of someone.”

Your heart pounded. “Oh?”

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “A cat, actually. One I’ve been talking to a lot lately.”

Ice ran through your veins.

Did he realise?

You forced a small laugh. “You talk to a lot of cats?”

“Just one,” he murmured. “And she reminds me of you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

“I don’t know why, but I feel… comfortable with you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Like I can say things I wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his cologne, dark, warm and intoxicating. He was so close. If you tilted your head just slightly, his lips would brush against yours.

And that terrified you.

Because if he kissed you now, it would be a lie.

He thought he had only opened up to a cat, not you.

So before he could move, before you could lose yourself in the moment, you stepped back. “I should go.”

His brows furrowed, hurt flickering across his face. “Did I-?”

“No,” you cut in. “It’s just...” You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “I’m not what you think I am.”

And then you fled.

You ran back to your room.

You avoided him after that.

For days, you refused to shift into your animagus form, afraid that if you did, he’d say something that would break you completely.

You couldn’t keep pretending.

You decided that you would tell him the truth.

So one night, you waited for him in the common room, your real self this time, not the cat.

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

He entered as he always did, running a hand through his messy curls. But when he saw you instead of the feline form he was expecting, he froze.

“You’re up late,” he said carefully.

You took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He studied you for a long moment, then sat down. “Alright.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears now. Slowly, you stepped back and shifted.

A swirl of magic, a shimmer in the air, then you were on four paws, staring up at him with wide eyes.

His breath caught.

You shifted back.

Silence stretched between you.

Then he let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “You’re kidding.”

You swallowed hard, but you couldn't say a word.

He stood abruptly, pacing. “All this time…” He dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck, I told you everything.”

You flinched. “I never meant to deceive you.”

“Did you think it was funny?” His voice was filled with frustration, but beneath it, there was something raw. “Watching me spill my damn soul to a cat?”

“No!” You stepped closer. “I listened because I cared, Mattheo. Because I-” You hesitated, then whispered, “Because I love you.” You reached for him hesitantly. “Everything I felt as a cat, I still feel as me.”

His jaw clenched.

He looked at you for a long, agonising moment then, to your utter surprise, he exhaled and muttered, “Bloody hell.”

Before you could realise what was happening, he was kissing you.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you close, his lips pressing against yours with a desperate kind of longing. You melted into him, every fear, every doubt vanishing in the warmth of his hold.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” he murmured.

You laughed softly. “And you talk to cats.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Only one.”

His fingers trailed down your arm before he intertwined them with yours.

“Stay with me?” he asked quietly.

You squeezed his hand.

“Always.”

~Masterlist~

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[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (5) - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: If there are any specific scenarios you want me to explore, please let me know 🥰

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the fire casting flickering shadows as you slumped over a pile of parchment, feeling like your brain was going to melt. Your Ancient Runes essay looked like gibberish, your Potions notes were a disaster, and Transfiguration theory? Forget it.

And, of course, Mattheo was in detention, meaning your usual study distraction was nowhere to be found.

"You're gonna combust if you keep staring at that essay like that," Theo remarked, lazily watching you from across the room.

Enzo, stretched out on the couch, hummed in agreement. "Yeah, seriously. You need to relax."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "I can't. If I don’t finish this, McGonagall will murder me."

Theo twirled something between his fingers, smirking. "You need to chill."

You shot him a glare. "Brilliant advice, Theo. Got any actual suggestions?"

Instead of answering, he pulled out a cigarette. "Here. Always helps me."

You blinked. "Are you serious?"

Theo smirked. "Dead serious."

Before you could answer, Enzo snorted, shaking his head. "Mate, I give you ten seconds before Mattheo walks in and loses his absolute shit."

Theo chuckled. "Oh, come on. It's one cigarette. What’s the worst that could happen?"

You hesitated, glancing at Enzo, who just grinned like he already knew how this would end.

"...Fine," you muttered, taking it. Theo flicked his lighter, holding it up.

The first inhale was awful—your throat burned, and you immediately coughed.

"Merlin’s beard," you choked, waving the smoke away. "How do you do this?"

Theo just laughed. "You'll get used to it."

Before you could bring it back to your lips to try again, the common room door creaked open.

A wave of tense silence spread as Mattheo walked in, his uniform slightly rumpled from detention, tie hanging loose, sleeves rolled up.

His dark eyes landed on you immediately—and more specifically, on the cigarette between your fingers.

The room might as well have dropped ten degrees.

"The fuck is this?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Theo and Enzo froze, exchanging looks.

You slowly lowered the cigarette, feeling caught. "...Hi, Mattheo."

"Don't hi, Mattheo me princess,” he challenged, stalking over. His gaze flickered between you and Theo. "Since when does you smoke?"

Theo opened his mouth, but Enzo elbowed him. "Told you, mate," Enzo muttered. "Ten seconds."

Mattheo completely ignored them, eyes fixed on you. Before you could even react, he plucked the cigarette from your fingers—but instead of tossing it away like you expected, he brought it to his own lips and took a slow, deep drag.

You stared. Hard.

So did Theo and Enzo.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered.

Mattheo exhaled a stream of smoke, smirking. "What?"

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Double standards much?"

His smirk only grew as he tilted his head. "Angel, there’s no hope for my soul," he murmured, flicking some ash away. "But you?" He leaned in, his voice dropping lower, just for you. "I won’t let anyone corrupt you." His lips brushed your ear as he added, "Except me… when you ask really nicely."

Then he winked.

Your stomach flipped.

Theo gagged dramatically. "Merlin, I regret everything. Take the cigarette back, this is unbearable."

Enzo howled with laughter. "I told you, Theo!"

Mattheo shot them both an unimpressed look before turning back to you. He exhaled another puff of smoke, his free hand slipping around your waist. "Promise me, princess—next time you're stressed, you come to me. Not these two idiots."

You huffed. "You were in detention."

"Then you wait for me," he murmured, tapping the cigarette ash away before leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll always take care of you."

Theo groaned. "I'm actually going to be sick."

Mattheo ignored him, his eyes locked on yours, waiting for your answer.

You sighed, giving in—because, really, how could you say no when he looked at you like that? "...Fine. I promise."

His smirk softened into something dangerously sweet. "Good girl."

Then, just to be an ass, he took another drag from the cigarette and kissed you slow enough that you could still taste the smoke on his lips.

Enzo whistled. "Oh, that's just evil."

Mattheo just grinned against your lips, clearly having the time of his life.

[enha-doodles]

slytherin boys reacting to their darling being from Ravenclaw?👀

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING IN RAVENCLAW | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore, Lorenzo , Draco) x reader

Note : tysm for requesting i hope you like it , Hufflepuff is next 🕺🏻🕺🏻

Warning : not proofread, my jokes lmao

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Being with Mattheo is like living in a perpetual comedy sketch. Every time you dazzle him with your Ravenclaw wit, he can't help but playfully roll his eyes and joke about feeling like a first-year struggling with a broomstick. "Seriously, babe, how do you do it?" he'd exclaim, his amusement clear in his eyes. "You've got more brainpower than a room full of Hogwarts professors, and here I am, struggling to remember which potion turns a mouse into a snuffbox."

Despite his self-deprecating humor, you can see the genuine admiration in his eyes, knowing that he's completely smitten with your cleverness. And hey, if being the smart one in the relationship means you get to see that adorable look of amazement on his face, then maybe being a Ravenclaw isn't so bad after all.

TOM RIDDLE

Tom, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. With his competitive nature and Slytherin pride, he can't stand the thought of being outsmarted by anyone, especially his own girlfriend. Every time you happen to know something he doesn't, he's quick to brush it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, so you think you're the expert now, do you?" he'll say, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Just remember who's supposed to be the genius in this relationship."

Despite his competitive edge, you can't help but find it amusing how seriously he takes it all. After all, who knew that trivia night with your boyfriend would turn into a high-stakes battle for intellectual supremacy?

THEODORE NOTT

Theodore, on the other hand, couldn't be more different. He absolutely adores your cleverness, finding your sassy remarks and witty banter completely irresistible. "My darling beauty with brains," he'll say, flashing you a charming smile. "You keep me on my toes, love, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

With Theodore, every conversation feels like a game of verbal chess, with each witty comeback and clever remark only adding to the sparks flying between you. And hey, if being a smartass means getting to see that adorable grin on his face, then sign you up for Ravenclaw house forever.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo, with his laid-back demeanor and sharp sense of humor, finds your intellect both amusing and slightly irritating at times. "Do you ever turn that brain off, or is it just permanently stuck in overdrive?" he'll tease, though there's a fondness in his eyes that tells you he wouldn't have it any other way.

Despite his occasional annoyance, you know that he secretly loves your quick wit and sharp mind, even if it means enduring the occasional eye roll or sarcastic remark.

DRACO MALFOY

And then there's Draco, the epitome of Slytherin arrogance and charm. While he may grumble about your Ravenclaw intelligence, secretly, you know he's secretly impressed by your cleverness. "Bloody hell, can't you dumb it down a bit ?" he'll joke, though there's a hint of genuine awe in his tone. "But hey, I guess it's better than having a girlfriend who thinks Quidditch is a type of biscuit."

With Draco, every conversation feels like a battle of wits, with each snarky remark and witty comeback only adding to the undeniable chemistry between you. And while he may be a bit of a brat at times, you wouldn't have him any other way. After all, what's a little friendly rivalry between Slytherin sweethearts?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

[sp7-mr]

𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆

❥he smokes very often, but it helps him stay calm when he is angry or stressed

❥he loves drawing and writing little poems but will never admit it

❥even if he doesn't seem like it, he would be very insecure because of his family and his father, and the judgment of others would ultimately count

❥loves hugs

❥ he wouldn't want you to know Tom or his father to protect you from that world

❥if someone else talked to you or looked at you, he would hug you from behind and kiss your neck

❥to make sure you always say yes to him, he would make puppy eyes

❥he would hate to see you cry, he just wants you to feel safe

❥he would hate his brother Tom with all his heart, because he flirts with you

❥he would spend the evening with you just looking at the stars on the astronomy tower

❥he would love it when you play with his hair

❥he wouldn't want to appear weak or lost in front of you, as he wants you to always feel safe with him

❥to protect you he would do anything, for example if his father blackmailed him by threatening you, he would even pretend to cheat on you to break up and keep you safe, it doesn't matter if you hate him, he would feel terrible about it, but it's to protect you

❥you ask and he gives

❥he would consider you a little princess, to be protected from the darkness, from his father and if necessary from himself. He would do anything

❥physical touch

Is he or isn't he the perfect boyfriend??!!

if he would be real....

(I used the translator to write so if it's not perfect sorry)

[deadghosy]

Hi! I saw that you wanted 'Sly. Boys react to' ideas so I thought I'd give it a go.

How about, Slytherin boys react to a animagus!reader? Maybe they're a small common animal like a cat or maybe a fantastic/magical one like a Niffler or Thestral

-🎃

A/N: Hello 🎃 anon!! Thanks for this request💕

Slytherin boys react to an animagus!reader

Ft. The riddles, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, && Lorenzo Berkshire

Tom Riddle

When you turned into a cat in front of him…he immediately just looked up from his book with a raised brow like “wtf”

But his reaction is to just pick you up and sit you on his lap. Getting back to his book

He’s like a villain, petting you with you on his lap with an evil smile.

Oddly he will stuff you in his robe so he can go to class. Not worrying about you messing up his dorm.

You could be chilling in the room, reading a book in your human state. And out of nowhere…

“Transform into a cat. You’re coming with me.” Tom says busting into your wand with a glint of mischief in his eyes

Mattheo Riddle

Picks you up and puts you in his lap

He’s never letting you go unless you change back to Normal

But neither the less he is still holding you down and kissing your face

He’s never letting you 😭

Draco Malfoy

Kinda like Tom, he’s stuffing you in his damn robe 😭

“Sssh be quiet!” Is something he says so you won’t meow when he’s in class

Would have a bedazzled cat bed for you ☺️ soiling your human form and cat one.

He loves your both form equally

Blaise Zabini

Pets you a lot!

But he prefer you were back to human so he can physically kiss you.

As much as he loves your animal form, he loves your human form more! 🫶🏾

Theodore Nott

Meows at you 😭PLEASE HE THINKS YOU UNDERSTAND HIM BUT YOU CANT

Would lay on the ground with you and just play with you. Babying you with soft words in Italian

He feels like he loves your animal form more so he can just pet you more. He loves you! It’s just you’re so cute as a cat.

Probably buys a collar only for you to run.

Then he pulls a wand spell and makes you stay still…you scratched his hands so bad

Lorenzo Berkshire

Petting you with every chance!

As much he loves your human form, he loves your cat one because of how small, fuzzy, and adorable you. But it’s not like you arent adorable your own self.

Is cautious to let another student pet you. Specifically mattheo-

Buying a lot of cat stuff for you.

He made sure your cat bed, if you ever turn accidentally. Would be by him. 🫶🏾💕

Definitely “pspsps” at you 😭😭

He loves to give you nose boops. He finds it cute.

[heavenlybodies333]

Dirty Fucking Mind - M.R.

Speak of the Devil…and the Devil shall appear

Your luck was fucking awful.

You had come to the Restricted Section with a singular purpose: find the book on alchemy you’d been dying to get your hands on and get out. Simple. In and out. No one would know. But, as usual, your unfortunate timing had yet again fucked you over.

Because you weren’t alone.

You stilled, fingers hovering over the spine of an aged, leather-bound tome, as you caught sight of him. Mattheo Riddle.

He moved between the towering bookshelves like a shadow, deliberate and silent, his sharp gaze scanning the rows as if searching for something just out of reach. But what caught your attention—what made you pause, breath hitching—was the way his lips moved. Barely audible, murmuring a language you had heard before but couldn’t immediately place.

And then it clicked. Parseltongue.

Your brows lifted in mild surprise. You recognized it as clear as day, though your understanding of it was... lacking. A fault of your own negligence, really. Your grandfather—one of the few remaining Blacks to still wield the gift—had tried to teach you, but you’d been too stubborn to care. Maybe if you’d listened, you would have known exactly what Riddle was searching for now.

As he stretched, reaching for a book just out of reach, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut over his forearms, the flex of his muscles making the veins in his hands stand out, and fuck—had he always been this strong? The thought hit you suddenly, unwanted, unwarranted. You imagined those hands on you, wrapped around your throat, pinning you down as his body pressed between your legs. How deep would his cock—

You about done, princess?

Your stomach plummeted as the voice echoed inside your mind. You recognized it instantly, it was Mattheo’s. shit. shit. shit.

Panic flickered in your chest, but you kept your expression composed as you straightened, snapping your head up to meet his gaze. Except…

He wasn’t there.

The space where he’d stood just moments ago was empty, the soft glow of candlelight flickering across abandoned bookshelves.

What the—

His laughter curled around your mind like smoke, seeping into every crevice, dragging icy fingers down your spine.

Legilimency.

You should have known.

Riddle was a fucking menace, a master of slipping into minds undetected, and clearly, you weren’t as skilled at Occlumency as you’d thought. Which meant—

Heat burned across your cheeks.

He’d heard everything. The filthy, unfiltered thoughts you’d had about him.

A slow clap broke the silence, sharp and mocking. "Well, well," came his voice, smooth as silk and twice as deadly. "I must say, I’m flattered."

You didn’t turn immediately. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, you exhaled through your nose, slow and even, before sliding the book back into place. Only then did you pivot, deliberately, meeting his gaze with a lazy tilt of your head.

Mattheo stood mere feet away, leaning against a bookshelf like he had all the time in the world, his arms folded, one brow arched in amusement. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, accentuating the cruel smirk tugging at his lips.

"You must be mistaken," you said, voice laced with boredom. "Not everything is about you, Riddle."

His smirk widened. "Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong." He pushed off the shelf, closing the distance between you in two measured steps. "See, I find it quite hard to believe that you weren’t just picturing my hands around your throat."

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Instead, you smiled—slow, saccharine, dangerous. "I suppose if you already know my thoughts, there’s no point in lying," you said, voice dipping just slightly. You let your gaze flicker over him, deliberate and slow, before meeting his eyes again. "It’s a shame, really. Fantasy is always better than reality." Taking a step back as he took one towards you. Your back hit the bookshelf as you inhaled sharply, refusing to react, refusing to let the way his body crowded yours make you do something stupid—like, say, pressing your thighs together.

"Is that so?" Mattheo mused, his eyes locked onto yours. He reached out lazily, running his fingers along the edge of the shelf beside your head. You felt the air shift, his presence pressing in closer. then—before you could register the movement—his thigh was slotted between yours, firm and unforgiving.

Your breath stilled in your throat. The heat of him was immediate, seeping through the fabric of your skirt, and—Merlin help you—you were already too fucking warm.

Mattheo noticed. Of course he did.

"Interesting," he drawled, his voice almost thoughtful as his hands came to rest on your waist—not gripping, not pinning, just there. Just waiting. "You act as though I don’t affect you, yet here you are…" His lips curved into something wicked, something knowing, as he shifted just slightly, the movement pressing the firm plane of his thigh against your already aching cunt.

It took every ounce of restraint you had not to react. Not to suck in a sharp breath or—God forbid—moan. Your nails dug into the wood of the bookshelf behind you, grounding yourself, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with unwavering defiance.

"You think too highly of yourself, Riddle," you murmured, voice impressively steady.

His hands tightened just slightly, the ghost of a squeeze, and then his knee bucked up—just a fraction, just enough to force a spark of pleasure up your spine.

Oh, fuck.

Heat licked at your cheeks, but still, you refused to break. Refused to let him have this. You set your jaw, inhaling through your nose, refusing to give him a reaction.

You glared at him. "If you think this little game is going to—"

Another slow, deliberate movement of his thigh.

Your words cut off.

His dark eyes gleamed. "Go on," he encouraged. "Finish your sentence."

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but the friction was unbearable. The ache between your thighs only intensified, and you were certain—certain—he could feel the evidence of it. The growing damp spot against his trousers, the way your body reacted against your will.

And the worst part? He wasn’t even holding you there. He wasn’t forcing you to grind down, wasn’t pinning you in place.

You were doing that all on your own.

"You’re quiet all of a sudden," Mattheo murmured, tilting his head. His thumb brushed over your jaw, deceptively gentle as his leg shifted, dragging slow, agonizing friction against you. "I expected more fight from you. Aren’t you going to tell me how much you don’t want this?"

Your nails bit into his wrist. "I hate you," you breathed.

He chuckled. "Oh, I know."

His thigh flexed, and stars burst behind your eyes. You bit your lip, hard, swallowing the whimper that threatened to spill out.

Mattheo’s free hand traced the line of your waist, slow, testing. "You’re soaking me," he murmured, almost thoughtful. "All from just this?" His knee shifted higher, pressing right against the throbbing ache between your thighs.

Your head tipped back, thudding against the shelf. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

You barely noticed the way your fingers worked at his belt, the way you shoved his trousers just far enough down to feel the thick, heavy weight of him against your palm.

Mattheo hissed between his teeth, his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, but his hand was already guiding yours, wrapping your fingers around his cock like he needed it.

The door creaked open. You froze. Mattheo didn’t. You barely had time to react before he shoved you down, your knees hitting the stone floor, his cock in your hand before you could even register what was happening.

“Mr. Riddle?” came Professor Flitwick’s tiny voice. “Still here, are we?”

Your eyes flicked up to Mattheo’s face. He had to step further into the shelves to hide you, but you stayed exactly where you were, blinking up at him with mock innocence, tongue trailing the underside of his cock just to fuck with him.

He stiffened. You swore you saw panic, actual panic, flicker across his features before he schooled it into composure.

“Yes, professor,” Mattheo rasped, voice strained.

You started again, licking his cock slow, deliberate, watching the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his nostrils flared as he fought for control. Letting your lips part, taking the thick, leaking head of his cock into your mouth just.

Mattheo shot you a warning look, but you ignored it, taking him deeper into your mouth, swallowing around him.

His thigh tensed, his jaw locking, and for the first time in your life, you heard him stutter.

Flitwick’s voice remained curious, oblivious. "What is it you’re still doing in the library?"

Mattheo cleared his throat, his grip in your hair tightening as he struggled to maintain control. "J-Just—research, Professor." His voice was even, but you could hear the strain beneath it.

God, this was fun.

You hummed around him, flicking your tongue over the sensitive tip, and his entire body shuddered.

You watched, delighted, as he fought to remain composed, as he struggled against the pleasure you were so generously giving him.

You sucked harder, forcing Mattheo’s cock deeper down your throat.

Mattheo stiffened. His grip on your hair turned punishing. "Shit."

"Professor," he choked out, voice strained. "I… I was just finishing up in the Restricted Section."

Flitwick’s tiny feet pattered closer.

You flattened your tongue, swirled it around the head of his cock, hard, until he trembled above you.

Finishing up. You could hardly help the quiet giggle that slipped from you as you took him deeper into your mouth, pressing until you felt him hit the back of your throat.

Mattheo’s hand tightened in your hair, pulling, silently begging you to stop, but you just stared up at him tauntingly, sucking harder.

“Very well,” Flitwick replied. “Do lock up when you’re done, won’t you?”

Mattheo grunted in response, sharp and clipped, visibly struggling. He could barely manage a nod. His knuckles turned white where they gripped the shelf behind him, while the other hand held a death grip in your hair, pleading you not to move, you did the exact opposite.

The moment the library door clicked shut, Mattheo snapped.

His hand fisted in your hair, yanking you off him with a wet, obscene pop, your saliva still glistening along the length of him as he dragged his thumb across your slick, swollen lips. His eyes, black as sin, drank in the sight of you—breathless, wrecked, your mouth shining with evidence of your depravity.

“You little fucking—”

“What?” You taunted feigning innocence as you pouted at him.

"You," he growled, hauling you to your feet, crashing your bodies together, "are going to pay for that."

His thumb pressed against your tongue, and you—defiant, taunting—wrapped your lips around it, sucking, never breaking eye contact as his restraint shattered.

His hands were everywhere—pushing, pulling, grasping at your robes, yanking at your clothes with a ruthless impatience. He had no time for undressing, your skirt was shoved up over your hips, your blouse hanging open, the cool air ghosting over your exposed breasts.

Your moan was swallowed by his mouth as he pressed against you, his fingers slipping beneath your panties, dragging through your slick folds, spreading you open. "So fucking wet for me," Your nails carved red crescents into his back as you moaned against his lips, and he drank in every sound like a man starved. He lined up his cock, teasing you as he slid through your wet folds pushing his tip against your sensitive clit. His eyes never leaving yours as he thrusted into you, one arm wrapped strongly around your waist and the other gripping your throat leaving bruises you knew weren’t going to heal for days.

"Fuck," you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling,"Is that all you've got, Riddle?"

His pace faltered, just for a second, before his grip on you tightened like a vice. "You're infuriating." His hips snapped against you in punishment, pulling a cry from your throat.

Your nails clawed at his back, your legs tightening around his waist as he fucked you deeper, harder, driving you into the wood. Your head thumped against the bookshelf, but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it over the sharp, consuming pleasure, over the way he was taking you. “You almost fuck me better than my ex,” you moaned.

Then, in a blur of motion, he pinned your wrists above your head, his other hand wrapping around your throat as he rolled his hips against you with devastating precision, dragging himself out excruciatingly slow before slamming back into you so hard you nearly screamed.

"You forget yourself," he growled, lips grazing your ear, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper. "Do you want to repeat that, princess?" Another thrust, sharp and cruel, making your legs tremble around him. "I thought you were going to stop me, eyes up, look at me, where the fuck is my cock right now." His grip on your wrists tightened, his pace relentless now, your back arched, your lips parted in a silent scream as your body clenched, trembled, broke around him.

Mattheo groaned, as he drove into you once, twice more before he spilled inside you, his head falling against your shoulder, breath ragged, bodies slick and trembling as you came together.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your breathing—a soft shuffle. The unmistakable creak of an old wooden floorboard.

You stilled.

Mattheo’s head snapped up, his gaze narrowing as he peered into the darkened rows of the Restricted Section.

Your unfortunate timing had fucked you over yet again.

And this time… someone had seen.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: this was supposed to be slow burn but then I blacked out and now there’s thigh riding in the restricted section. oopsies.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[phas3d]

Hi there! I’m not sure if your still taking requests, but I would love to know your thoughts on how Lorenzo, Theo, Draco, Mattheo, and Tom would react to their s/o wearing their hoodie/sweater. I was thinking headcanons or a Drabble but anything would be great! I really love writing and hope you feel inspired to write even more soon!

Wearing Their Clothes | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: calling theo a man whore, calling enzo a twink,

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: inspired by uhh, nothing really - this prompt has been in my draft for ages and i finallyyyy finished it - THANK YOU to everyone who sends requests, I'm finally getting to them

DRACO MALFOY

When you complained about being cold, he instantly started lecturing you

"I told you it would get cold but your little pea brain didn't process that"

But while he's lecturing you, he's taking off his jumper and handing it to you

It smells like him and it's super soft

He only buys the best material for his clothes, because duhhh

He lets you wear it until you're somewhere warm

Although he loves you, he loves his jumper more

But he does sacrifice some of his jumpers by letting you wear them because, he hates to admit it, but you look super cute in his clothes

TOM RIDDLE

He watches you shiver for a few minutes until he decides to offer his jacket

You could literally be turning blue but he won't offer his jacket until he feels like it

He sighs, as if you asked for his jacket, and drapes his jacket around your shoulders

And guess what,,, he even ZIPS IT UP FOR YOU

AHHHH

Even though he's a dickhead at times, he's still a gentleman

When you put on his jacket, he slightly smirks at how big it is on you

Not cause you're cute, but because it makes him feel powerful to know he's bigger

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Is so so happy when he sees you out in the cold during his quidditch match

He's beaming and passes by you in the bleachers for a quick second as he throws his spare jersey in your arms

When you put it on, you smell his sweat and musk

Which would smell disgusting to some but to you, that's your boy :)

During his game, he glances over at you and smiles when he sees you wearing it

It helps push him to win even more

THEODORE NOTT

Sadly, Theo is a man-whore

Meaning he is always serving cunt,,, meaning he rarely wears jackets or sweaters

So if you're cold,,, so is he

Buttt on the lucky chance he is actually wearing a jacket and hiding his muscles, he doesn't hesitate to give you his jacket

And his jackets are 10 times better because not only is it always great material, clean, but it's also stylish

He always takes pictures of you when you wear his jacket, it makes him feel so happy and giddy

It kinda inspires him to try and style outfits for you to wear

Possibly plans matching outfits, that way if you get cold and he needs to give you his jacket - it will match both of you :)

This man is a THINKER!!! mwah

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

This man is a twig, twink, pocket sized

He will fly away in the wind like a napkin

BUT luckily, he loves getting massively oversized hoodies

It smells like the woods, a hint of lavender, but mostly fresh grass and sunlight is his scent

He loves to cool and comfy looks it gives - always gets a cool ass design on it as well

When you borrow his hoodies, he gets so giddy

He loves it so much since it's like he's claiming you in a way

Similar to how you leave hair ties, claw clips, and extra lip glosses all over his room

Definitely stacks up on big hoodies, that way you have a bunch of options to choose from

Even gets you guys matching designs in different colors

[princesevsnape]

Slytherin Boys React - Dating

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Tom Riddle, Blaise Zabini

Draco Malfoy:

At first he’s guarded about his feelings for you.

Too proud to even admit that he likes you

His lingering glances and slight over protectiveness gives him away

Behind closed doors he is secretly affectionate

He’s not too big on public displays of affection

In private he holds your hand, brushes your hair out of your eyes. Places gentle kisses on your forehead.

He’s a big cuddler. He’d love to cuddle up with you at night when you’re all alone.

He’ll spoil you with gifts that make you smile. He will even send you flowers

He’s possessive and if anyone flirts with you he makes it known that you are his.

He is scared of losing you

He’d take you on romantic dates which he obviously pays for

He shows you his more vulnerable side and he feels like he can open up to you about everything

Theodore Nott:

He’s secretive about his feelings at first but when he trusts you he makes it known he likes you a lot

He isn’t big on PDA at first

But he will do things like brushing his fingers against yours, holding your hand underneath the table in class. Little gestures that lets you know he’s there and that he cares

The longer you are together the more public he becomes with his affections letting people know you are his

He’s fiercely loyal

He will stand up for you against people who try to bring you down

He takes you on meaningful dates like going for a picnic by the Black Lake to watch the stars at night

Mattheo Riddle:

Your relationship starts with some not so subtle flirting

He’s fiercely protective of you

He’ll hex anyone that looks at you the wrong way

He is big on PDA, everyone needs to know you’re his and to back off

He has a softer side which he only lets you see

He’ll sneak you out past curfew for Midnight dates

Hickeys everywhere

He gets jealous if another boy gets too close to you whilst talking to them

He needs to be near you at all times

Maybe not necessarily right next to you but close enough that he knows your safe

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He won you over with compliments

He’ll leave you little notes to remind you how much he loves you

He’s not shy when it comes to PDA

He’ll sling an arm around you whilst walking to classes or hold your hand

He give you a quick kiss not caring who sees

He will surprise you with impromptu dates

He is fiercely loyal and only has eyes for you

Even if another girl flirts with him he makes it known he only has eyes for you

He’ll make sure you sleep in his bed every night, he wants you to be near him at all times plus he loves to cuddle with you

Tom Riddle:

At first he finds it difficult to trust you, but when he does you’re the only one he trusts

He is extremely possessive

Nobody can even look at you without getting hexed let alone talk to you

He sneaks you off to the restricted section of the library after curfew

His affection is very subtle despite him being possessive of you

His gaze would linger on you wherever you are if you’re in class but aren’t sat next to you he is watching you like a hawk

When kissing you he isn’t gentle, he is rough and possessive

He demands your attention

Blaise Zabini:

He is very charming towards you before you start dating

He’s always complimenting you

He would slip you notes in class just to see you smile

He takes you on dates that he spent time making sure was perfect for you

He is subtly protective of you

He gets jealous easily and will glare at anyone who dares to try and take you from him

[cherrixpie]

TO DIE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT

PART TWO -> part one

-> after the eventful night at the party you hesitate to tell your brother about your relationship with his best mate, fearing his reaction- but theo doesn't seem to know what's good for him.

-> brother's bsf!theodore nott x riddle!reader; wc: 8.8k; cw: violence, smoking, alcohol, blood, suggestive; sfw; sadly there was some error with the tags and I couldn't tag some people, but I still hope you all found your way here!

( masterlist )

Taboos were a funny thing. Unspoken, implied, and yet, it seemed impossible to break them- making it all the more thrilling to throw them into the wind. Once broken, they settled in the depths of your heart as secrets, blossoming uncontrollable until your whole stomach was a resting whirlwind of pink rose petals, ready to be triggered at any minute. The memories of last night were like hidden-away treasures, replaying in your mind as you walked up the dungeon steps on your way to breakfast. It was as if you could still feel his hands on your skin, his velvety voice in your ears and see the look of hunger and adoration in his cerulean eyes.

Almost subconsciously, you ran your index finger along your thigh below the school skirt you were wearing and felt your stomach flutter at the reemerging memories of last night. Half an hour ago, you'd woken up, feeling more gleeful than ever and only after a few seconds realizing why. But now, it clouded your mind and projected a silly little smile onto your face. Theo was your boyfriend.

You could barely believe it, which didn't make it easier to sort out the conflicting feelings fistfighting each other in the back of your mind. The risk of going out with Theo, the betrayal Mattheo would feel, and the overpowering delight ignited by the mere thought of him, the image of his face, the whisper of his name. God could not have crafted a more perfect man- or a more unreachable one. Because you didn't dare picture what Mattheo might do to the both of you if he found out.

The corridor was quiet, the distant chattering from the Great Hall above growing ever more clear as you approached it. No one crossed your way, you were quite late. The cool stone beneath your fingertips as you trailed your hand along the wall was grounding, steady, until suddenly, it wasn’t. A firm grip caught your wrist, gentle yet insistent, and before you could react, you were being pulled- not harshly, but with a certainty that sent a spark of electricity through your veins.

You barely had time to gasp before your back met the cool stone, and when you looked up, Theo was there, his body caging you in with effortless ease. His breath was warm against your cheek, his hands meeting the wall on either side of your head. An easy smirk danced around your lips and the glinting in his eyes stirred other, more sinful memories in you. Though it was a much different setting than back then, the hunger in them was the same he'd stared at you with when he'd eaten out as if you were his last meal. “Caught you,” he said, under his breath, looking so damn irresistible with the teasing look in his eyes. He seemed much more casual than usual, as well as in a much better mood, and you could understand why.

“I wasn't running,” you replied in an unconvincing effort to keep your voice steady. You swallowed when he leaned in even further and tilted his head, eyes boring into yours as if he knew exactly what was going on in your mind- how you longed for him, for every bit of him, from his blue eyes to the sharp edge of his voice.

His fingers traced up your arm lazily, leaving you struggling to suppress a shudder, and if the flicker of his eyes was any indication, he was perfectly aware of how he made you feel. “No?” he asked with a knowing smile. “Then why do you look so nervous?” Your breath hitched in your throat when his lips hovered over yours, stilling in silent anticipation. You knew he was making you squirm, was getting you all hot and bothered for him so he would have the upper hand. And you were ashamed to admit that it worked.

In an attempt to divert him and avoid suffocating on the heavy tension lingering in the minimal space between you, you said, “I was just on the way to breakfast,” but it came out like a question and you bit down on your tongue when he raised an amused brow.

The intensity of his gaze made you swallow and blink, but you refused to avert your eyes from his pools of blue, refused to give him the satisfaction. “Oh, were you know?” he asked, voice low and laced with sarcastic humour.

Sarcasm. His defining feature. Sometimes you felt like he walked through life, disregarding all worry and bother with a sarcastic smile on his face. But you knew he could be genuine. His gaze would always be understanding when you sought out consolation with him, his smile gentle when you would tell him about your day. Last night, when Campbell had cornered you at the party, there had not been a trace of humor in his cold demeanor. When he’d eaten you out on that desk, he had looked up at you with such sincerity.

You instinctively leaned into the touch of his hand when it came up to rest against your neck, thumb running over your throat with featherlight precision. “You keep walking the halls in that skirt of yours and someone’s going to snatch you up.”

Unconvincingly, you rolled your eyes at him and his protectiveness. Your skirt was perfectly fine. Maybe it was the one from last year. Maybe it rode just a little higher on your thigh. Maybe you’d wanted him to notice and strain himself all day to not let Mattheo catch him looking at you. Maybe all you’d dreamed about that night was the feeling of his hands working on your cunt, producing the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever felt.

“And let me guess,” you said, challengily, and ignored the pounding of your heart against your ribs, “you’re just the right person to keep that from happening?”

Theo dipped down even more, making your eyes flutter shut in the expectancy of a kiss. It came, but it was a mere gentle peck to the corner of your mouth. “No,” he disagreed smoothly, “I’m the only person who is allowed to.”

You had enough. Enough of the tingling teasing of his fleeting touches, enough of the light touch of his lips. Taking initiative, you stood on your tiptoes to meet his lips, but he pulled away, smirking down at your frown. Just a shame you’d discovered how to make him snap last night. Theo smiled as your hand came up to his neck, pulling him down with pleading eyes, and made not the slightest attempt to assist your struggles. So, you had to get out the full arsenals. “Theo,” you whispered, gaze firmly locked on his cerulean eyes. “Theo, baciami.” (Kiss me)

“Maledizione,” cursed Theo through gritted teeth and you knew you’d won. In one fluid motion, both his hands came up to cup your face and his lips clashed onto yours with unknown ferocity. They moved vehemently against yours, eliciting a high-pitched little gasp from you. It made him chuckle into your mouth as his tongue slipped between your lips, taking charge of the kiss.

Though passionate, the kiss was still controlled, no matter how wildly, he still consumed you with meticulous mastery. Every movement of his soft lips, every brush of his fingers, every wandering of his hands was expertly staged to get you riled up. Kisses with Theo were not satisfaction, they were carefully controlled build up. And once you gave into his push, he guided you more and more to a point where you almost moaned against his lips.

One of his hands had wandered down to your hip, then your thigh. Unexpectedly, he gripped the underside of your upper thigh and lifted it, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. Departing from yours, his lips latched onto your neck, and you pushed wildy against his chest. He broke away, brows furrowed with a hint of irritation, still pressing you against the wall with his whole body and massaging the flesh of your thigh as he held it, lifted up to his waist. “Wh-”

“Mattheo will kill you!” you whispered, voice shaking slightly. Instinctively, you looked up and down the hall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Anyone could walk by. Even if they were another student, they would spread the news around the whole castle and you wouldn’t be spared Mattheo's wrath. You weren’t sure whether he’d be angrier at his best friend for stealing his sister, or at his sister for stealing his best friend, but you did know you weren’t eager to find out.

Theo only laughed lightly at your grim prediction, and the sound was so entrancing that you forgot to be angry at him. Though they spared your neck, his lips traced your jaw with featherlight kisses. “Worth it.”

You felt your breath grow unsteady, not just because of his wandering hands. Hastily, you looked in both directions, up and down the corridor, listening for footsteps, however distant they may be. “It’s not,” you disagreed, biting down on your lip as his fingers slipped beneath your shirt and the calloused tips ran along your bare skin. “Theo, seriously. What if he hurts you? Remember what he did to Dylan Walker?”

Walker had taken you out on a date once, and for that alone, Mattheo had landed him in the hospital wing with second degree burns and a lung full of lake water. When you’d confronted him about it, he had refused to tell you why and Walker had never exchanged another word with you. “Vividly,” said Theo in a dry voice, not even bothering to glance up at you. “I was there.”

“Wha-,” you gasped in indignation, but a sharp pinch of your stomach between his fingers got the words stuck in your throat.

“He talked trash about you,” he explained in an indifferent voice, as if it didn’t matter at all.

You let out a frustrated huff of breath and dug your fingers harshly into his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. Just because you beat up people and chop at your life expectancy together doesn't mean he won't do the same to you.” There was now actual panic in your voice as you nervously anticipated the steps, the people. Eyes widening, nudging friends, running off to tell the whole school, maybe even Mattheo himself.

But Theo seemed completely unfazed as he trailed kisses up your jaw. “Aren’t you just irresistible, all worried about your boyfriend, carina.”

The use of the word ‘boyfriend’ almost made your thoughts stutter and a tender bloom blossomed in the pit of your stomach. Right. He was your boyfriend. You couldn't suppress the small smile forming on your lips, and by the look he gave you, he knew exactly what he was doing. Theodore Nott was your boyfriend. Not anyone else’s.

All the girls you’d secretly envied when you saw them walk off with him to his dorm in the midst of a rowdy Slytherin party, his arm around their waists, knowing from the stories they told they had to be in for a good time. The following day, you’d visit him at his dorm to do coursework together and try to shut out the fact that on the very bed you sat on, he’d kissed and fucked a girl that wasn’t you. Your gaze would linger on the crumpled up sheets, picturing it, how he would be towards them. Would he be rough, or gentle? Would he be mean, or sweet? Where would his hands wander, where would his lips caress, what would they whisper into the space between the heated bodies?

And then, his voice would pull you out of your sinful thoughts, as he leaned against the headboard and studied your expression, teasing you for your lack of concentration. You wondered whether he had known how it would seize your heart, the way he smiled at you, the way he looked at you. The mere act of regarding you. It was embarrassing, pathetic even, but you felt no greater love and adoration for anyone.

Theo’s thoughts seemed to have wandered off to similar pölaces. As he guided your lips back onto his, he whispered words in between the kisses that made your cheeks burn. “I want everyone to know,” he whispered, and despite your reluctance, you sighed contently against his lips. “I want everyone to know you belong to me,” he said in a murmur, his front pressing against yours.

You nearly choked on your own spit when his thigh slotted neatly into the space between yours, and you were glad your embarrassing little mewl was swallowed up by his hungry lips. “I want them to know,” he repeated, as if it was a mantra, as he devoured your lips over and over again. “I want them to know who they will have to answer to if they ever mess with you again.”

“But who do you answer to?” you asked, voice barely audible in between the hungry ministrations of his lips.

But he understood, you knew he did, somehow he always did. Because he scoffed lightly and tilted your head to give himself better access to your lips. “Not your brother.”

It was hard to concentrate on his words when his hand squeezed your thigh so deliciously and his hips moved teasingly against yours, driving all thoughts about getting caught right out of the forefront of your mind, leaving only thoughts of him, him, him. “He may be my best mate, but he has no damn say in this,” Theo said firmly, voice barely above a whisper but rich with his baritone. “And he’ll have to accept that you are your own person, and you can make decisions for yourself that are right. Not because he approves of them but because you made them.”

All this was whispered hurriedly against your lips and you barely registered half of it, but still, a certain warmth spread in your chest- and not only in your chest. Theo’s lips departed from yours and he looked down at you, noticing your still worried expression as you returned his heavy gaze. Gentle fingers brushed over your face, over the frown, smoothing it out with a smile. Letting out a long sigh, you contemplated his words.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, suddenly with such disarming tenderness that you swallowed.

“Alright,” you breathed out, voice still full of doubt. You weren’t at all convinced that Mattheo would accept the fact that you were your own person, and even less convinced that he would resolve the issue without violence. The last thing you wanted was for Theo to get hurt. But then again, they were best mates. Maybe Theo would finally be the one he would accept, he would deem worthy of you. How ridiculous that notion was. The more Mattheo kept you away from boys, the more desperate you got- hence Terry Campbell. But maybe he would see how misguided his previous overprotectiveness was if Theo talked him out of it. After all, Theo was a master of words.

“If you want to risk it,” you finally said, meeting Theo’s gaze steadily, “I won’t stop you. But not now. Not at breakfast. I’m actually hungry and I want to enjoy it without you getting your head torn off.”

“Qualsiasi cosa per la mia principessa,” he said, smiling. (Anything for my princess)

Because it would look suspicious if Theo and you just so happened to arrive at the same time, you let him go first and waited for a few minutes before making your way to the Great Hall as well. It was relatively late when you arrived, many students were already on their way back up to their common room as it was a Saturday and they had no classes to attend.

When you walked into the hall, you spotted your friends as one of the last groups at the Slytherin table. Walking over to them, you were first spotted by Pansy, who lifted her head from Blaise’s shoulder to wave you over with an eager grin. Suspicion curled in your stomach when you saw the excitement in her expression, the eager smile could mean nothing good.

As you approached them, you avoided looking at Theo, who had perched himself on the bench in between Pansy and Draco. You went for the seat opposite him, Enzo and Mattheo making room for you in between them. Theo lounged far more casual than usual, smirking slightly as you sat down next to your brother, his eyes flickering over you shortly. “Took your time getting here, tesoro.”

Your eyes flickered over to Mattheo in alarm- in his presence, Theo usually made use of less romantic nicknames. But Mattheo didn’t seem to have picked up on it, seeing as he didn’t pause in his scribbling on a torn piece of parchment. Somewhat calmer, you picked a piece of toast from a plate, avoiding his piercing eyes to not give anything away. “Shut up, Theo. I need my rest,” you said as casually as possible. “Not all of us survive on caffeine, nicotine and no sleep at all.”

On the opposite side of the table, Theo rested his chin on his palm, propped up on the polished wood. His eyes were dark with amusement as he watched you spread butter on your toast. “Hm,” he made vaguely, voice dripping with insinuation, “Thought maybe you got held up.”

Stiffening mid marmalade application, you looked up from your toast to glared at him. But he had already averted his eyes, as if they had been resting on you by mere chance. Instead, you met Pansy’s gaze, who narrowed her eyes slightly, a suspicious look on her face. Pansy had known of your feelings for Theo for even longer as you yourself had, she had a certain instinct for romantic intricacies. One that now came to your inconvenience, as her attentive eyes, eager to pick up on any further signs, flickered between you and Theo. Then, she turned to you, a misleading smile spread across her features. “How was the party yesterday, darling?” she asked, wiggling her brows, “How was your date?”

Mattheo, who had barely been paying attention up until now, froze next to you, eyes snapping up from the parchment and to you with scrutinizing estimation. Trying your best to look indifferent at the memory of Campbell, one that you had already half suppressed, you shrugged, not meeting Theo’s eye. “It was pretty uneventful. He was a bit of a bore.”

Mattheo seemed agitated. He leaned back on the bench, fingers tapping on the wood restlessly, knee rocking under the table. “You missed the briefing,” he said to you, in a not so subtle attempt to change the topic of conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy’s face fall. No doubt would she have asked about the details of the evening, but you weren’t that good at lying- especially not to her.

“The what?” you asked, before she could bring Campbell up again, and raised your brows at your brother. Mattheo grinned at your scepticism and draped an arm over your backrest. Years and years living with him had taught you when his smiles could mean no good, and your brows drew together in a frown as he leaned towards you with a smirk.

“The party briefing. We’re throwing one tonight. No, you don’t get a say. Yes, you’re going. No, you’re not bringing some random guy.”

Deadpanning, you took a bite out of your toast. “Didn’t ask for your permission, actually,” you said sharply when you’d swallowed.

With a mock gasp, your brother clutched his hand over his chest. “You wound my pride as your older brother.” You sighed a long sigh. It was pointless reminding Mattheo that he wasn’t even the oldest and him acting like he was most likely stemmed from some deep-rooted control issues- he would never hear it. You exchanged a short look with Theo, who seemed amused at your frustration and quirked his lips at you. It was hard not to smile back.

“Do we really need another party?” asked Draco, frowning, as he cut his toast into neat pieces for consumption. “Didn’t we just have one?”

Pansy, leaning against Blaise, took her eyes off you to roll them at him. “You say that every time.”

“And you always show up,” Mattheo grinned triumphantly, seemingly very content with himself ever since you’d shown so little enthusiasm regarding your date of last night. If only he knew…

“You've got scratches on your neck, Nott,” Pansy said suddenly, making your meandering thoughts snap back to the present. A present in which Theo had frozen mid-stretch. His shirt seemed to have ridden up when he’d strained his arms over his head and indeed, with horror, you noticed the marks your nails must’ve left on him. You felt heat rush up into your cheeks at the memory, but Theo seemed completely unfazed and smirked at her. “Do I?”

Enzo chuckled into his tea next to you, turning a page in his newspaper and glancing up at Theo shortly, a knowing smile on his face. “Rough morning, mate?” A lazy, unbothered smile spread across his face, and you were momentarily awestruck by the glinting in his blue eyes as they reflected the morning sun, forgetting all about Pansy’s watchful gaze. Looking from you to Theo, she narrowed her eyes once more as Theo idly spun his spoon between his fingers.

“You’ve been in a suspiciously good mood all morning.” Blaise grinned at Theo, who didn’t seem unsettled by the attention at all- other than you. “Must’ve been a real good fuck,” Blaise laughed, making the corners of Theo’s lip twitch. Quickly, you looked away from him. If he looked at you with those damn eyes of his now, your reaction would for sure give you away.

But Theo merely raised an eyebrow at Blaise, readjusting his collar. “Why do you care so much about my sex life, Zabini? It’s disturbing.”

Even Draco now joined into the conversation, and you could only pray your silence would be interpreted as tiredness, rather than nerves and utter embarrassment. He leaned back and frowned slightly at Theo, who was pouring himself another cup of coffee. “It’s just weird when you smile, Nott.”

That seemed to finally take Mattheo’s mind off the party- though you’d rather have them all occupied with something else. He pointed his fork at Theo, suddenly interested. “Actually, yeah. What’s with you?”

Theo deadpanned, sipping his coffee and scanning them all over the rim. “Maybe I’m just happy.”

Next to you, Mattheo snorted disbelievingly. “You’re never happy.” The sarcastic look on Theo’s face made everyone, including you, laugh. Even Theo’s lips twitched humorously and once again, his eyes found yours for the split of a second, brow raising.

“Alright,” groaned Mattheo, matter of factly, once the laughter had subsided, and rose from his seat. “I have some orphans to cannibalize before noon.” his gaze landed on you, voice casual but suddenly firm. “No bullshit tonight, yeah? I don’t want to have to drag some idiot off of you.”

“How about you don’t do that?” you suggested dryly, knowing he would never even consider the possibility. He considered your business his business and justified it by spewing stuff about protecting you, shielding you from the world. But he had to know he would not be able to forever. And you, for your part, were perfectly content with pushing more boundaries, especially when it had felt so damn good yesterday.

As you had suspected, all you got from Mattheo was an unbothered grin. “Not up to you,” he said, simply.

Even Pansy rolled her eyes now. She had always been your advocate, the one who got you talking to boys at parties and smuggled you drinks, lended you her unholy book collection and gave you makeup tips. Now, she gave Mattheo a pointed glare. “You act like she’s a kid, but she’s an adult just like you, you big idiot,” she snapped.

Indignant, Mattheo crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I act like she has terrible taste in men.”

“He does have a point, darling,” Enzo chimed in from your other side, and you gave him a look, conveying just how unhelpful he was being.

“She’s going to end up with someone eventually,” Pansy pressed on, making Mattheo’s expression shift into one of irritation. “And you’ll have to face it.”

Mattheo scoffed, returning her glare. “Not if I have a say in it.”

“You don’t!” you reminded him, voice more heated than before. The stress of keeping a secret from him paired with the worry this conversation sparked off inside you.

The smile on Mattheo’s face was forced, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard and unyielding. “It’'ll be a cold day in hell before I let some idiot get near you." And unfortunately, you believed him.

The Slytherin common room was buzzing with restless, pent up energy of countless students of all houses. The air thick with cigarette smoke and the sickly-sweet smell of smuggled firewhiskey. The emerald glow of the fires cast wildly dancing shadows against the walls, where the portraits had left their frames to spent the night somewhere less in risk of being splashed with alcoholic substance. A large mass of people was swaying to the deafeningly loud music in the center of the room, and in the corners, intertwined bodies engaged in far riskier affairs.

Theo stood against the far wall, posture deceptively relaxed, grip tight round the bottle of some alcohol he was holding. When Blaise had pushed it into his hands an hour prior with a promising smirk, guaranteeing him it was “good stuff”, he had been too distracted to question it, but he didn’t recognize the taste. Normally, that would have been enough of a reason to discard the bottle- Slytherin parties were notorious for the impending risk of being poisoned- but tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to care, needed the deliciously burning trickle down his throat and distract him from this. From you.

His jaw clenched every time he caught sight of you- twirling absentmindedly to the music, smile shining beneath the lights as you let Pansy drag you all over the dance floor in search of Blaise. Unaware of the way his gaze followed you like a magnet, like a tether he couldn’t sever. Every now and again, his eyes flickered over to the opposite end of the room and he took another sip of the unknown drink. Your brother was as loud and reckless as ever, downing shots and laughing with Enzo about something while Draco stood stiffly beside him, eying the dancers critically.

He had been working them out all afternoon. The words, that now sat heavy on his tongue, burning hotter than the liquor. Theo exhaled slowly, set his bottle down with a muted clink, and pushed himself off the wall. The crowd of dancers shifted around him, bodies moving in a drunken haze, some girls clinging to him, but he barely registered it. He slipped through the chaos like a shadow until he came to a stop behind Mattheo and Enzo, still caught up in their conversation.

When they took notice of his presence, Mattheo turned to him with a crude grin. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Plenty,” said Theo dryly, hiding his twitching fingers in the pockets of his trousers. Mattheo seemed to take notice of his restlessness, an impressive feat, taking into account how many shots he’d already downed. His brows lifted in vague confusion. “Need something?” he asked, voice rough from smoke, head tilting as he noticed the tension in his best mate’s stance.

Theo swallowed, throat tight, pulse a heavy drum in his ears- or was it the music? “Yeah,” he finally said, voice low and steady, masking the way his heart rattled against his chest like it wanted to break from its cage. He tipped his chin toward the stairs, toward the shadows of the quieter corner. “Need a word.”

Though he looked surprised, Mattheo gave a small nod and placed his drink on a couch table. He followed his best mate along the cold stone walls that seemed to swallow the loud thumping of the music. When they reached the stairs and immersed themselves in the shadows, the music seemed to grow slightly fainter, though still a prominent beat mirroring the one of Theo’s pulse. “I’ve got to talk to you about something,” he said, seriously, leaning against the wall and scanning Mattheo, gauging his mood, how quick he would be to snap.

Mattheo had had a great evening so far. He’d dunked one guy's head in the punch bowl, made out with both of the Patil twins and the firewhiskey from their new supplier was way better than the one they usually got from the hogshead. He sniggered at Theo’s grave expression. “What are you so serious for, Nott?” he drawled easily, already tipsy from the few rounds of firewhiskey. “Could we have one night where you don’t look like your nonna was just run over?”

Theo made no effort to conceal his scoff. Usually, he had his fun at these parties. Even if he didn’t present the most cheerful face, his needs would remain somewhat satisfied by the end of the night. He highly doubted that tonight would be the same. “It’s about your sister,” he said steadily, watching Mattheo’s grin change into a frown.

“Ah,” he said, sounding somewhat sobered up. “Heard you sorted out Campbell pretty bad this morning. What did he do?”

Vivid images of your wide, teary eyes flashed in Theo’s eyes, of the way that tramp Campbell had grabbed you, how pathetic he had looked this morning as a bloody, crumpled mess at his feet, begging for mercy. “No matter,” he said, remembering his promise to you. “It’s something else.”

“Merlin, Nott, you ‘re acting like she caught a deadly disease,” groaned Mattheo in exasperation, but Theo could see how his vague wording unnerved him. If there was one person Mattheo would burn down the world for, it was his sister. Theo understood the sentiment, but he didn’t like his practices. “Spit it out,” growled Mattheo, pushing himself off the wall to come closer. “Can’t be too bad, can it?”

“It can,” Theo said with pursed lips, knowing that the news he was about to share would bother Mattheo more than a natural disaster could- after all, he was one himself. Mattheo's face fell with the words, and his frown only deepend. “Why do I feel like I’m about to hate whatever comes next?”

It was the way Theo stood so still that caught your attention- a statue carved from tension, jaw locked, shoulders taught beneath his shirt. You almost missed it, lost in the relentless pull of the music and Pansy's hand tugging yours as you spun, but something inside you twisted, as if instinct was dragging your gaze to the far side of the room. and there they were. Theo and Mattheo, cornered in the shadows, their heads inclined towards each other. It was hard to read their body language through the sea of dancing people and flashing light, but you could make out the way Theo’s lips moved, wrapped around words that seemed to struggle their way past his lips.

In reaction to them, Mattheo leaned in, gaze dark and sharp, while Theo's fingers curled into fists at his sides, the muscles in his forearm twitching like live wire. The room around you seemed to blur at the edges, the pulse of the music fading into a distant hum. You couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but you didn’t need to to know that something was very, very wrong.

With a tug at her arm, you caught Pansy’s attention and inclined your head toward their tense figures. Pansy, who had lived through her fair share of dragging Mattheo away from fights, like all of his close friends, frowned, nudging you away from the thick knot of bodies that was the center of the room. Suddenly, your eyes caught the way Theo said something to Mattheo that made his jaw fall slack. Dread pooled in your stomach, your legs uncoordinated with the conflicting wishes to run or to get in between them. You decided upon the latter, slowly walking towards their corner as Mattheo’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

Mattheo laughed in Theo’s face, but it was devoid of any humour, no more than the promise of something darker, of impending doom. “You're joking,” he said, almost commanded.

Theo’s voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not.”

But Mattheo seemed unwilling to accept the truth of his words. Shaking his head with a wild smile, he paced around the very limited space, knuckles turning white around the bottle he was holding. “No, no, no. You’re not.” But the hard look on Theo’s face made his face fall. The color seemed to vanish from his cheeks. Without a warning, his hands reached out and suddenly got a hold of the taller boy’s collar, the bottle meeting the ground with a soft thud that was drowned out by the music. Theo looked unfalteringly into Mattheo’s eyes that flickered between, desperately in search of a lie, a bad joke. But it didn’t come, and his group tightened on Theo’s shirt.

“Tell me you’ll end it,” he said, voice low and furious. “Right now.”

Theo didn’t flinch, though his eyes flickered to the side, where some partygoers had taken notice of the unfolding scene. Somewhere in the crowd, he made out your face, eyes widened in worry, as you approached them. “I won’t,” he said harshly to the other.

Mattheo’s face twisted into something sinister, a storm of fury darkening his features, cackling tension ready to break and unleash its fury. His knuckles whitened around Theo’s collar as he dragged him down until their foreheads almost touched. The dancing light of the common room danced around the sharp, clenched line of his jaw, the cold fury brimming in his eyes, and something else- betrayal. “What did you just say?” he breathed, voice dripping with quiet, lethal rage.

But Theo didn’t flinch, his jaw set, eyes steady. “I won’t,” he repeated, voice like iron. Mattheo’s fingers flexed, and it was all it took for his restraint to snap.

The first punch landed like a gunshot. Theo’s head snapped to the side, a sharp crack echoing through the corner of the room as Mattheo’s fist connected with his cheekbone. The force of it staggered him, but he didn’t fall- just wiped the blood from his split lip and squared his shoulders like he’d been waiting for this. Mattheo lunged, grabbing him by the shirt again and shoving him into the storm wall with enough force to rattle the torches. “You absolute piece of shit!” he spat, words laced with venom. “You fucking knew she was off limits!” His voice had risen to a loud snarl, sharp enough to cut through the party noises.

Theo shoved back, and the people broke apart when Mattheo and he faced each other, panting. Slipping from their haze, many of the party-goers turned in search of the origin of the shouting, and a crowd formed around them. And still, Theo didn’t back down. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, blood smeared across his jaw, staring back at Mattheo like he’d let him tear him apart before he even thought of walking away from you.

But before Mattheo could deliver another punch, a familiar voice made the both of them whip around. “Mattheo, stop!” you shouted, out of breath, and stumbled in between them, into the no man’s land between their heaving bodies. When you looked at Mattheo, you saw the betrayal deeply etched into his features. They were twisted with hate and anger, every nerve tense, like a predator ready to pounce. When you turned to Theo, his heart clenched with a sharp pain far surpassing the one pulsing in his busted lip. Your eyes were full of worry and fear, clinging to the smear of blood on his chin.

But you turned to Mattheo sharply, likely sensing that he was just about ready to do everything- anything. His dark eyes were locked on Theo, he barely acknowledged you, his voice laced with disgust. “You had every girl in the castle, and you chose her?”

“I didn't choose,” replied Theo, suppressing the urge to pull your shaky figure into him, wrap his arms around you. “It just happened.”

“Yeah?” asked Mattheo, chest heaving with barely contained fury. “Well, it’s about to un-happen.”

“This isn’t just some fling, Mattheo,” you tried, taking a hesitant step towards your brother. But not even your pleading eyes could calm the storm raging inside him.

A bitter laugh left his throat, mocking you. “Right. Because you’re so special, huh? Always desperate to be wanted by someone.”

You knew he didn't mean it. That fury and shock twisted his words into something ugly and hurtful, meant to attack your weak points, meant to hurt. To disarm. And it was disarming. His words were like poison, seeping into your flesh, curling up in your stomach and echoing in your mind. Defensively, you squared your shoulders, but tears stung in your eyes.

For a moment, Mattheo almost seemed to falter, until Theo brushed past you in one fluid motion, gripped the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked sharply, shaking him by his shirt. Instead of an answer, Mattheo shook him off and threw a punch that Theo dodged. The next, however, met him square across the face as Mattheo lunged at him, absolutely livid.

The crowd gasped and screamed as they fell to the ground in a huddle of arms and legs, spitting insults at each other. When Theo rolled him over and got the upper hand for a second, he brought his fist down upon mattheo’s face and the following crack resounded against the stone walls. Spitting out blood, Mattheo shoved him off and tackled him with new fury.

Suddenly, you felt a strong tug at your arm, and before you knew it, Pansy had pulled you a few feet distance from the fight.

Meanwhile, both Mattheo and Theo got onto their feet again and Mattheo, face and shirt bloody, stumbled back a step, steadying himself against the wall. Theo stood upright, but his lip was dripping with blood and his shirt was ripped slightly. Mattheo’s eyes wandered from you to Theo, still ablaze with rage. but instead of attacking him again, he spat at Theo’s feet, turned on his heel and approached the exit, the crowd bursting apart where he walked.

When the entrance sealed itself behind him, stunned silence filled the room, thick as the previous heavy beat of the music. But someone had stopped the record player. The room seemed weirdly small without the thundering bass. Still rooted to the spot, Theo ran a bloody hand over his busted lip. Then, he slowly turned. When you looked into his eyes, you released a shaky breath. Slowly putting the pieces together, a round of whispers overtook the bystanders. And in one singular motion, all heads turned to your heaving figure.

The sad remains of some of the stargazing instruments lay scattered across the floor, unfortunate witnesses to Mattheo's wrath. Ripped parchment fluttered like the wings of trapped birds in the wind and the black board exhibited a large gash where he’d punched it in a fit of overflowing rage. They all were signs of the destrcutive storm that had rushed through, left nothing untouched. Now, it leaned against the stone railing, the remains of several cigarettes at his feet. But no smoke curled in the air above. Mattheo had smoked his lungs out until the pack was empty, and now, his leg rocked unsteadily, his fingers twitched and he glowered into the dark of the night.

He didn’t bother looking up when he heard Theo’s footsteps scuff against the stone floor, the creak of the door. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon like the stars might calm the fury blistering under his skin. But as the other neared the railing with slow but sure steps, he tracked every movement: the stiff set of Theo’s shoulders, the way he flexed his fingers like he was still shaking off the urge to hit something. His jaw was tight, a faint bruise blooming along his cheekbone, but he stood tall, steady, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry for what he’d done. It pissed him off, almost as much as the fact that he was in the wrong.

His eyes wandered down to his best mates hands once more, gaze flickering over the knuckles Theo hadn’t bothered to heal. “You look like shit,” Mattheo muttered, voice low and sharp, though the words carried less venom than they should have.

Theo rested his forearms against the railing next to him, though keeping a certain distance. His hands wrung, more blood seeping from his bashed in knuckles. Then, with a long sigh, one of them disappeared into his pocket and he glanced over at Mattheo, sizing him up. “Smoke?”

Mattheo gritted his teeth in frustration, hands curling into fists as he stared onto the lake. “Fuck yeah. I’ve run out.”

A rustling of clothing, a crackle of carton and then, Theo handed Mattheo a cigarette. The latter took it without comment, lighting it with a flick of his fingers and taking a slow drag. Smoke billowed out of his mouth as Theo next to him balanced another smoke between his bleeding lips and clicked a lighter to ignite it. He, too, took a languid drag of it, watching the smoke curl up into curious shapes before dissipating into the cool night air. As the calming effect made him able to stop the bouncing of his leg, Mattheo let out a scoff and blew smoke from his nose. “You really are a fucking bastard.”

For a few seconds, only the faint whisper of the wind around the castle walls filled the air. Then- “I can only promise you that I’ll be whatever she needs me to be,” Theo replied, carefully choosing his words.

A disbelieving, ironic chuckle stumbled past Mattheo’s lip, hanging in the tense air between them like the puff of smoke that accompanied it. “Well, aren’t you all righteous all of the sudden?”

Theo didn’t answer, but the lack of a response sounded as loud as a yell could have. Agitated, Mattheo tightened his grip on the cigarette, making sparks of embers gush from it and shine brightly until they were swallowed up by the dark. A frustrated growl left his lips. “Why did you have to fuck this up for me?”

“Fuck what up?” asked Theo, a sudden and unmistakable sharpness in his voice that made Mattheo turn his head to him. His brow was raised as he breathed out a string of smoke and eyed the other critically. “Your carefully crafted plan to validate yourself by keeping her close? Whether she's protected or not doesn't change who you are. But I don't think you really care about protection, do you? You only want to be her highest priority, because you’re no one else’s.”

Theo’s voice had grown more heated and he had inched closer. With a frustrated frown, Mattheo averted his eyes from him, angrier than ever at the fact that he knew there was truth to his words. But theo didn’t let up as he leaned in, forced Mattheo to hear the words. “You cling to her like it's her job to soothe your self-loathing. But she's not your mother, she's not your therapist, she's not your tool. I know you love her, so do I, but that means separating your protectiveness from your self-protection.”

There was another short silence, a silence thick with tension, brimming with their heated tempers. Finally, Mattheo scowled frustratedly and took another, long drag of his cigarette. His leg had started bouncing again. “You really are an asshole, Nott.” He waited for an answer, but Theo seemed to have said all he intended.

Agitated, Mattheo ran a hand through his dark curls, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Fuck, maybe you’re right. You know… in my whole damn life, the only people who ever accepted me- ever really accepted me- were you and her. You two saw the whole, stinking pile of shit that I am and you chose to stay. And now, you’re going behind my back.” He refused to meet Theo’s measuring stare, knowing he was too disconcerted to put up any sort of facade- especially around him. He’d never really fooled Theo, and it showed when he raised his voice.

“You’re scared,” he said calmly, throwing him a firm look when he scoffed, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t deny it. Just listen to yourself, mate. But being with me doesn’t mean she’ll leave you.”

A frustrated groan left Mattheo’s throat, his eyes fixed to the glint of moonlight, reflected on the steady waves of the lake. They rippled softly with each breeze. “Feels like you’re both turning your backs on me, just like the whole fucking world did,” he said, voice raw, fingers tightening around the railing until his knuckles stood out white.

“They turned on her too,” Theo argued sensibly, voice calmer and somehow softer as the topic turned to you. Mattheo noticed it with great dissatisfaction. “You only see your pain, Mattheo, but you didn’t soothe hers when you made her unapproachable to everyone but us.” Everything inside Mattheo denied the truth his words carried. After all he’d sworn himself he’d do for you, it hit him like another punch. But he was forced to admit that there was some sense in his words.

He’d always thought he alone could protect you properly- and Merlin, it stung that he might be wrong. Who was he kidding, he was wrong. “Shut the fuck up,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

Theo simply stomped out his cigarette, tone turning matter-of-fact. “I have nothing more to say. And you don't, either.”

Mattheo released a frustrated breath of air, scowling at the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. “How did it happen anyway?” he finally asked.

Theo dragged a hand through his curls. He leaned against the cold stone railing, jaw tight, voice low but steady. “It only started last night. At Slughorn's stupid party,” he admitted, glancing at Mattheo through the haze of smoke.

“I thought she went with Campbell?” asked Mattheo, quickly, and Theo narrowed his eyes at him. “I was getting there.” Averting his eyes to his hands, his expression darkened at the memory of the night. “Campbell cornered her. He had his filthy hands on her, saying things I won’t repeat. I got there just in time.” His voice sharpened, every word laced with venom. “Ripped him off her. This morning I made sure he wouldn’t forget why he shouldn’t try again.” Theo rubbed his thumb over his knuckles that were becoming scabby against the cool air. “She was shaken, mate. And you weren’t there. But I was. And I couldn’t- couldn’t leave her after that.”

Mattheo didn’t speak. The only sound was the distant crackle of the dying embers in his cigarette, the quiet rustle of wind tugging at their robes. He stood rigid, fingers curled into fists at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked beneath his skin. Theo stayed still, letting the weight of his words linger, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch under Mattheo’s glare- just waited. And when Mattheo finally exhaled, the sound was sharp, almost guttural, like he was trying to breathe out the ache that had settled in his bones. “What did you do to Campbell?” he finally asked in a business-like manner, though his glare was withering.

“Broke his nose. His jaw. Split his brow. Might've kicked a couple ribs in,” Theo said, deadpanning.

Mattheo paused, nodding slowly. “Good.”

“I don’t just care about her,” Theo pressed, seizing the moment as Mattheo looked somewhat appeased. “I protect her. I have and I will.”

Mattheo scoffed, but when he glanced back at Theo, his glare had turned into a frown, fury replaced by irritation. “You broke my nose, by the way,” he said gruffly, pointing to his blood-smeared face.

“You split my lip first,” countered Theo with a smirk, rubbing over his knuckles.

The reply earned a dark chuckle from Mattheo. “Fair trade for wrecking Campbell’s face, I guess.” With a sigh, he turned to lean against the railing with his side, his front turned towards Theo. With a flick of his wrists, he flicked ash into the night and studied Theo’s expression. “I get it, you know. Why she… why you.”

Theo glanced over, catching Mattheo looking almost pained at the admission. “Do you?”

Another groan left Mattheo’s lips as he flicked the burnt-out smoke off into the dark grounds of the castle, following the glowing embers with his eyes until they had merged with the dark. “I hate it,” he said lowly, “But yeah. i get it.” His eyes seemed to darken. “If she’s gonna be with someone, I’d rather it be the guy who fought me for her without flinching.”

The agitation was visible with the way his knee bounced, his fingers twitched and he averted his face from Theo’s piercing gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Take care of her, man. Please.”

When Theo opened his mouth to speak and reassure him, however, he cut him off quickly, voice wavering slightly with the struggle to hide how affected he was. “You won’t have sex of course.” His face twisted with disgust at the idea. “Not until she’s at least twenty-five. Thirty. Never, actually,” he clarified, nodding to himself and giving Theo a very firm glare, pointing at him. “Don’t you lay hands on my little sister!”

“She’s not your little sister, mate,” said Theo, completely unfazed. “And it may already be too late for that.”

“You fucker!”

Theo descended the stone steps from the Owlery, hands stuffed into his pockets, the early morning chill clinging to his skin. A few students he passed nudged their friends and broke out into whispers, but he ignored them. It had only been a few hours, but the news of his and Mattheo’s showdown at the Slytherin party had already made its rounds. Not that he would have minded. The more people knew you were his, the better. It was as if his whole terrifying reputation had been crafted only to protect you now.

As Theo stepped into the nearly empty Great Hall, he spotted you sitting alone with Mattheo at the Slytherin table. The sight seemed to unravel something inside him. You were curled into the bench, hands wrapped around a mug, face lit with cautious disbelief. Mattheo sat back, arms slung over the back of the chair, looking exhausted but...relaxed. Like the weight of the world had shifted off his shoulders, even if he wasn’t quite sure where to put it yet.

Theo hesitated only for a second, then he walked over, passing all other house tables and walking up the Slytherin one. When you noticed him, your eyes widened, your lips parting as if you couldn’t quite believe he was still breathing, still standing. “So Mattheo wasn’t lying,” you said, breathlessly, looking up at him. “You actually survived.”

Theo’s lips twitched into a crooked grin as he dropped onto the bench beside you, thigh brushing against yours like it belonged there. "Told you I could be convincing," he muttered, voice low enough that Mattheo rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Glancing shortly at Mattheo, you leaned over to place a quick peck on his lips- unaware how hungry it made him for more. With a sheepish smile, you parted from him, and he had to seriously restrain himself in order to not grab your face and clash his lips onto yours, making your breath hitch so deliciously in your throat.

Mattheo tossed a piece of toast onto his plate glaring at Theo like he still might throttle him for sport, but his voice lacked venom. “I told her if you break her heart, I'll break your legs,” he said, like he was commenting on the weather.

Theo just smirked, stretching his arm across the back of the bench, fingers ghosting over your shoulder. “Fair trade,” he murmured, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?”

And the way you smiled back- hesitant, relieved, a little in awe- made every bruise worth it.

a/n: the writing process of this was kind of cursed (deleted documents, unsaved changes etc) so I'm just so glad I managed to get it out. I hope you like it!

taglist: @lady-peiskos @hazeldunst @juliet-017 @furioussharkcat @onlytenkos @jannie-belaerys @blueflowerpots @whosyourgnomie @revesephemeres @longpondlibrary @aespaslut @hopeless--romamtic @s00ty-feet @iamheretoread1234 @devilsadvcte @jolly4holly

[thatdammchickennugget]

It's Me

pairing - mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary - mattheo likes you but it's obvious you and enzo are meant to be together. or are you?

warnings - fluff, soft matty, alcohol

a/n - finally wrote something again yayy. very inspired by some drama going on in my irl friend group

wordcount - 1.9k

The Slytherin common room was already buzzing with energy by the time Mattheo came down from his dorm. The green-tinged light flickered off the stone walls, casting shadows over groups of students lounging on leather couches, laughter spilling through the space as firewhiskey bottles clinked together.

Though his focus was quickly pulled from the throng of people already there, travelling over to you.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, leaning toward Blaise as you laughed at something he said, your eyes glinting in the dim light. The sight of you like that—completely at ease, lost in the moment—did something strange to him, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew he should be used to it by now, the way you filled every room with your energy, the way you were always just a little out of his reach.

It didn’t help that you were best friends with Enzo, one of his closest mates. He tried not to look at you too much as he took his seat on Blaise’s other side.

Mattheo had spent far too much time watching the two of you, waiting for the inevitable moment when you and Enzo would finally admit you were meant to be together. He hated it—hated how easy it was to picture, how much sense it made. You, with your quick wit and that infectious laugh, and Enzo, with his natural charm and ridiculous smirk. It was obvious. Everyone saw it.

So, Mattheo never said anything. Never did anything.

And maybe that’s why, when Enzo finally arrived, a little out of breath from running across the castle, Mattheo’s stomach twisted.

“Sorry, sorry—bloody Peeves wouldn’t stop chucking ink at us—” Enzo announced as he stepped up to the group, running a hand through his messy hair. Then, with a grin, he gestured behind him with a goofy grin. “Anyway, this is Callie. Finally managed to convince her to be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, it seemed to Mattheo as if the room stilled.

He had barely registered the pretty brunette at Enzo’s side, still too focused on you.

You blinked once, then twice, and for a split second, he braced himself for—he wasn’t even sure what. Shock? Sadness? Some sort of realization that the person you were supposedly meant to be with had just introduced his girlfriend?

Instead—

“Oh my Merlin!” you shrieked, practically launching off the couch.

Mattheo’s brows shot up as you dashed toward the girl, throwing your arms around her in an embrace so enthusiastic Callie barely had time to react before hugging you back with a startled laugh.

“About bloody time!” you announced, grinning as you pulled away, hands still on Callie’s arms. “Enzo, how did you not tell me sooner?”

Enzo snorted. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished!” you beamed.

Mattheo frowned.

He thought there was something off about the way you were smiling, the way your voice pitched just a little too high. He knew you—knew how you talked when you were excited, when you were happy. And something about this—about you—felt forced.

Like you were covering something up.

Like you were trying too hard to seem fine.

His jaw tightened.

Of course, you wouldn’t want to break in front of everyone. Not here. Not now. But Mattheo had seen the way you and Enzo had always been together, the way you leaned into him when you were tired, the way he always saved you a seat. Maybe you had never admitted anything, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t felt something.

And now Enzo had moved on. And you—

You were pretending it didn’t hurt.

Mattheo’s stomach churned as you turned to him then, your eyes meeting his across the room. “Mattheo, come meet Callie!”

.・。.・゜✭・.

People were singing loudly and dancing around him, but Mattheo had long since stopped paying attention to the drunken revelry. Instead, his gaze had been subtly tracking you for the past hour—watching as you flitted between groups, laughing and chatting as if nothing in the world could possibly be bothering you.

But then, at some point, you had drifted off toward the corner, settling into a shadowy alcove with a drink in hand. Alone.

And that was what finally made him move.

He found you nursing a half-finished drink, fingers tracing the rim of the cup as you stared off into the flickering green light. He leaned against the wall beside you, arms crossed, the scent of smoke and cinnamon lingering between you.

“Alright,” Mattheo said, voice low, barely audible over the music. “You can drop the act now.”

You blinked up at him. “What act?”

“The whole I’m totally fine thing.” He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You know, about Callie and Enzo.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Then, to his absolute confusion, you burst into laughter.

His brows furrowed. “What the hell is so funny?”

You set your drink down on the stone beside you, shaking your head as you tried to catch your breath. “You think I’m upset about Enzo?”

Mattheo stiffened, caught off guard. “Aren’t you?”

You let out another laugh, softer this time, and he could see the amusement written all over your face. “Mattheo,” you sighed, still grinning. “I love Enzo, but not like that. He’s practically my brother.”

His frown deepened as his brain scrambled to catch up. “But—”

“The reason I was a little down has nothing to do with him,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “It’s actually really stupid.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Try me.”

You hesitated, shifting in your seat, clearly debating whether or not to actually tell him. Mattheo let the silence stretch between you, giving you space to decide.

Eventually, you sighed. “It’s just… it feels like everyone is moving forward, you know? Coupling up, confessing their feelings, being brave enough to actually do something about it.” You looked down at your hands. “And I can’t manage to do the same.”

Something sharp twisted in Mattheo’s chest.

“Who?” His voice was steadier than he expected.

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“Who is it?” he pressed, shifting closer, his full attention on you now. “Who’s the guy you’re too scared to confess to?”

You immediately went rigid, the shift so obvious it almost made him smirk.

Almost.

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered, suddenly very interested in your drink again.

“Oh, but it does.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make you squirm. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “It’s no one.”

Mattheo hummed, unconvinced. He let his mind start working through the options. If it wasn’t Enzo, then who—

And then he saw it.

The way your fingers gripped the hem of your sleeve. The way you refused to look at him. The way your breath hitched when he shifted even closer.

It hit him all at once.

“Holy shit.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the realization burned through him like fire.

Your face went red instantly. “Mattheo—”

“It’s me.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

But he was grinning now, the weight in his chest replaced by something warmer, something far more dangerous. “No, you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face. “You should’ve told me.”

You finally met his gaze, cheeks still flushed. “And what, ruin everything?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he studied you. You, who had been right in front of him this entire time. You, who had made him feel things he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

“I should’ve told you, too,” he murmured.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening just a fraction. “What?”

He smirked. “Guess we were both cowards then, huh?”

You stared at him for a long moment before laughing again, softer this time. He wasn’t sure if it was the firewhiskey or the way you were looking at him, but something in his chest ached in the best way possible.

“Yeah,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I guess we were.”

Mattheo didn’t think this time. He just moved.

His hand lifted to your face, fingers grazing your jaw as he tipped your chin up ever so slightly. He wanted to give you time to pull away, to stop him, but you didn’t.

You just looked at him with wide, expectant eyes—like you had been waiting for this.

That was all it took.

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, testing, like he still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. But the second you exhaled against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt, he lost any hope of restraint.

Mattheo deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist as he tugged you closer, swallowing the soft sound you made as your body pressed flush against his. His head spun, the alcohol and the way you felt under his hands combining into something intoxicating, something entirely addictive.

You kissed him back with just as much desperation, as if trying to make up for all the time wasted, for all the moments you had both been too blind, too stubborn, to see what was right in front of you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your lips slightly swollen, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt like you had no intention of letting go.

He smirked, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Well,” he murmured. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “I do hate you.”

He only grinned. “You keep saying that.”

Before you could think of a retort, the music shifted—something fast, something intoxicatingly reckless—and Mattheo’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on.” He tugged at your hand, a rare kind of excitement lighting up his face. “Before I change my mind.”

You hesitated. “I don’t—”

But he was already pulling you toward the throng of students swaying and spinning near the center of the room.

The air was thick with heat and laughter, bodies pressed close as the song pulsed through the space. Mattheo spun you once before settling his hands on your waist again, his fingers splaying over the curve of your hips as he pulled you against him.

Your pulse hammered, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. “Mattheo—”

“Relax,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Just let go.”

And you did.

Because how could you not? When his hands held you like this, like he needed you close? When his dark eyes never strayed from yours, like you were the only thing in the room that mattered?

So you moved with him, your bodies falling into an effortless rhythm, his touch burning into your skin as he guided you, his smirk never fading as he watched you unravel.

“See?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “Told you this wasn’t so hard.”

You laughed, breathless, the sound lost in the music.

And as Mattheo’s fingers tightened around you, his grip firm and sure, you realized—

You never wanted to let go.

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