thewizardray

[thewizardray]

SHOOTING CIVILLIANS POINT BLANK. SHE WAS TRYING TO GET HOME AND THEY SHOT HER FOR NO REASON. GET THIS FOOTAGE OUT!

[thewizardray]

happens way too much

[thewizardray]

A good rule of thumb for AI is "would you trust a trained pigeon to do this?"

"We trained a pigeon to recognise cancerous cell clusters and somehow they're really good at it" okay great, that's something that could plausibly be a thing.

"We trained a pigeon to recognise good CV:s and left it in charge of sorting through all our job applications" uh perhaps consider not doing that.

[thewizardray]

youre too sweet 😭💗 I KNOW ITLL BE MORE THAN WORTH IT LOVE, YOUR WORK IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING, COMPLETELY PERFECT!!!!!! (im more than hooked, this is part of me now, i cannot exist without knight mattheo. this isnt a drill.

the knight's favor - knight!mattheo riddle (pt. 1)

summary: “I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about this, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

word count: 2k

a/n: yes knight!mattheo is now a series. yes, i am completely obsessed with it. i hope you come to love these two as much as i do!

 »-♡→ prologue

You squirmed in the stifling heat of the spectator’s box.

The prince was suffocatingly close to you, pawing at you in the cloying heat in a way that made your skin crawl just as much from his touch, his proximity, as from the way the fabric of your dress stuck to your skin.

He grasped your hand tightly, uncomfortably, as he smiled and waved to patrons, members of the court and the knights that rode by for the joust, a practiced smile plastered to his face despite the crude comments and criticisms he muttered under his breath.

You had been watching the festivities for hours at this point, but despite your own manufactured smile, your eyes never left the group of knights as you scanned and searched them with increasing persistence for Mattheo.

Each round that had passed had left you feeling more and more anxious; whether it was the heat of the day or the rowdiness of the crowd, the competition had become bloody and brutal, with one of the last knights being dragged unconscious from the ring, his arm twisting grotesquely in a way that had you averting your eyes as the prince stood and cheered. He had called for the joust, demanding that all enlisted knights participate or suffer punishment, ‘a celebration of our pending marriage’ he’d said, though you had no idea how any of this honored you.

Finally your eye caught the glint of black armor, obsidian against the late afternoon sun and you sat a little straighter in your seat, craning ever so slightly to see him better as his horse rode around the arena to deafening cheers, clearly already a crowd favorite.

You rarely saw Mattheo in his full gear anymore and your pulse quickened in appreciation for the way the leather and metal hugged his large frame, the way he rode effortlessly with his helmet tucked under one arm, a cocky smirk on his face as he drank in the attention and affection from the crowd.

He slowed as he approached the grandstand that held members of the court and your stomach roiled as nearly every maiden launched themselves out of their seats and waved their favors eagerly at him, shouting his name. His smile was beguiling as he nodded and waved to each of them and ran a hand through his dark brown curls, which garnered another wave of high-pitched screams.

Your knuckles were white as they squeezed the arms of the ornate chair beneath you and your leg jostled anxiously beneath the folds of your dress. And like he could sense your discomfort, always so attuned to your every emotion his eyes drifted over the crowd to your box and found yours. He smiled softly and never broke your gaze as he turned and rode slowly in your direction to the great dissatisfaction of the many women who shouted after him.

He stopped in front of the box, and looked quickly to the prince, inclining his head.

“Your majesties” he said respectfully.

You stood, dropping the prince’s hand carelessly as you walked towards him and began to untie an emerald ribbon, the same color as his shield, from the lace of your dress, near your collarbone.

Not a person in the arena noticed but you that Mattheo’s eyes widened as they followed the path of your fingers, that the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

“Your highness—” he tried to say, to stop you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do or what not to do, but then you were leaning forward precariously over the balustrade and he had no choice but to lean into you too, to remain perfectly still even as he was clouded with your perfume, as your hair tumbled over your shoulders brushing his armor, the ends tickling his cheek, as your chest fell perfectly level with his eyes in a way that had him averting his gaze, though not nearly quick enough. And then your fingers brushed his neck, his collar as you affixed your ribbon there, taking your time as you looped and threaded it into his armor.

His eye caught yours and you held his gaze for two heartbeats longer than you should of before you spoke, softly, closely, to be heard over the crowd.

“I place my trust in your valor and skill. Take this token of my favor, may this small gift bring you luck and guide your hand.”

The words were spoken and yet you didn't move, stilling in front of the court, the gods, the prince and everyone close enough to kiss him...

...And fuck if he wasn’t thinking about it, the way your eyes held his like they could say more to him than you ever could: I’m worried about you, be careful, and something else that ran deeper, in the way your own cheeks were flushed, in the way your chest was rising and falling, in the way he swore your eyes flitted to his lips before you smiled, your real smile, not the one he watched you wear every day in court, but the one he told himself was reserved just for him. And then you leaned back, letting him go.

The crowd cheered as Mattheo took off at speed, pulling his helmet on. You were faintly aware of an undercurrent of whispers and as you turned to face the prince you saw a sneer on his face that betrayed exactly what he was thinking for the first time that day.

You sat next to him and he grabbed your hand, intentionally crushing your fingers with his grasp and holding tighter when you tried to pull away.

His plastered smile was back but he growled at you under his breath.

“Was. That. Really. Necessary?” squeezing your hand tighter with each word.

Your blood chilled with concern. The prince was demanding, he was a dick, he was petulant and he pushed things too far but you'd never seen him properly angry, at least, not at you.

What had come over you? What were you thinking?

You swallowed.

“It’s common practice for the lady of the house to offer a favor to the strongest competitor. And he’s our strongest, no?”

A pause. But you could see the curl of his lip. He wouldn’t admit it, even if you both knew it was true.

“If you were a knight, if you were competing, my favor would go only to you" you lied.

He didn’t even look at you.

That didn’t help.

Much to your satisfaction Mattheo crushed his competitor, and for the first time that day you were the one out of your seat cheering alongside everyone else as he tore his helmet off and roared in celebration, pumped full of adrenaline as he tossed it and took a victory lap around the arena.

Your heart soared to see him competing, fighting, doing what he was born to be so good at, and you felt guilty for only a moment that he had been resigned to tedious days following you around the castle.

The crowd continued to clap and cheer and a smaller section had broken into song but as you looked back at the prince you realized he was the only person in the entire arena who was still seated. Silent. Staring at Mattheo.

It wasn’t until much later, after the banquet and several rounds of celebratory drinks that Mattheo was able to find a way to be alone with you, a skill he was as practiced at as he was with his sword, as he swiftly convinced your guard that he would walk you back to your chambers, even though he was technically off duty.

Though off duty at this point was only a matter of pay, as he doubted he could ever share a space with you and not be keenly aware of your every movement.

Even though he’d thoroughly enjoyed the night and the simmering adrenaline from being back in the arena, he was aware that the prince was in a mood, which wasn't altogether unusual, but it seemed to be directed at you in a way he didn't like.

And he didn't like the way you averted your eyes from all conversation, the way you pushed your food around your plate, and didn't eat anything, not even your favorite dessert.

And when he noted that the more the prince drank, the handsier he got with you to the point you were nearly squirming out of your seat he thanked the gods that you excused yourself, which saved him the effort of shearing the prince's head from his body.

You were walking quickly, marching really but when Mattheo fell into step beside you your feet slowed and he was sure he saw your body relax, the tension lowering your shoulders as a slow smile spread across your face despite the fact that you didn’t turn to look at him.

You continued in amiable silence, appreciating the stolen moment alone, and he waited until you were nearly at your room and out of earshot before saying anything.

“You shouldn’t have done that" he murmured.

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, smirking.

“Today, your favor.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes even as your posture tightened.

“I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about it, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

He shook his head, as he carded his hand through his hair.

You weren’t wrong, but he’d heard the whispers, had seen the way people looked at him tonight, had seen the way the prince looked at him tonight. It had become abundantly clear that he’d gotten too comfortable, complacent with what it meant to be close to you.

Then again… maybe he was reading too far into it all? To think that what you had done was anything more than acknowledge that he was a strong competitor? In fact... had he been too forward just now in telling you what he thought? His head spun and it ached and he realized he was more drunk than he'd thought, and he was grateful to be at your door as he leaned against the doorframe for reprieve as you moved to open it.

But your hand paused on the iron handle, and you glanced up at him, and for the second time that day every inch of his body was at attention in your proximity as you looked at him with that same damn look in your eye and his heart melted as his lips smirked at you.

“For what it’s worth, Sir Riddle—” you said, addressing him teasingly as you let go of the handle and reached to gather the silhouette of your dress. You pulled it up and his eyes darted there and he swiftly forgot how to breath as you revealed your ankle, your calf, your knee and then your thigh and he swayed a little bit and was about to tell you that you should stop before he caught sight of an emerald ribbon knotted in a bow around your thigh, the same color as the one you’d tied to his armor that now sat in his pocket, the same color as the crest he wore on his shield, only this one sat against your skin, your perfect soft skin, your leg, your thigh, your inner thigh...

“—I always carry you with me" you whispered, and he pulled his eyes from beneath your dress to meet yours, "so it seemed only fair that you carry a bit of me with you.”

He could feel his body shaking with adrenaline, with fear, with the realization that what had transpired between you had gone far beyond playful banter, stolen glances, and a wish he’d held in his heart but never thought could come true.

And despite years of careful restraint, his hands betrayed him as he reached for you, moving to cup your face, to pull you towards him, his rough callouses brushing against your cheeks as your own hands came to cover his and you leaned into him, easily, without hesitation.

Your eyes fixed on his lips, and you were right there, a breath away, your eyes begging, pleading for him to kiss you...

"Dolcezza" he whispered, sliding into his native language as he grappled to find a proper way to express himself.

...And then laughter reverberated down the hall that broke both of you out of the moment as you jumped and stepped back, slipping out of his grasp looking at him reluctantly as your hand covered your mouth, tracing your lips, before you shook your head.

“G-goodnight, Mattheo” you said quickly, darting into your room and gently closing the door behind you.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as slumped to the floor and let his head fall against your door where he sat the rest of the night.

 »-♡→ part two - coming soon!

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @voidofsunlight @diorandcigaddict

[thewizardray]

MY ANXIETY IS KILLING MEEEEE

the knight's favor - knight!mattheo riddle (pt. 1)

summary: “I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about this, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

word count: 2k

a/n: yes knight!mattheo is now a series. yes, i am completely obsessed with it. i hope you come to love these two as much as i do!

 »-♡→ prologue

You squirmed in the stifling heat of the spectator’s box.

The prince was suffocatingly close to you, pawing at you in the cloying heat in a way that made your skin crawl just as much from his touch, his proximity, as from the way the fabric of your dress stuck to your skin.

He grasped your hand tightly, uncomfortably, as he smiled and waved to patrons, members of the court and the knights that rode by for the joust, a practiced smile plastered to his face despite the crude comments and criticisms he muttered under his breath.

You had been watching the festivities for hours at this point, but despite your own manufactured smile, your eyes never left the group of knights as you scanned and searched them with increasing persistence for Mattheo.

Each round that had passed had left you feeling more and more anxious; whether it was the heat of the day or the rowdiness of the crowd, the competition had become bloody and brutal, with one of the last knights being dragged unconscious from the ring, his arm twisting grotesquely in a way that had you averting your eyes as the prince stood and cheered. He had called for the joust, demanding that all enlisted knights participate or suffer punishment, ‘a celebration of our pending marriage’ he’d said, though you had no idea how any of this honored you.

Finally your eye caught the glint of black armor, obsidian against the late afternoon sun and you sat a little straighter in your seat, craning ever so slightly to see him better as his horse rode around the arena to deafening cheers, clearly already a crowd favorite.

You rarely saw Mattheo in his full gear anymore and your pulse quickened in appreciation for the way the leather and metal hugged his large frame, the way he rode effortlessly with his helmet tucked under one arm, a cocky smirk on his face as he drank in the attention and affection from the crowd.

He slowed as he approached the grandstand that held members of the court and your stomach roiled as nearly every maiden launched themselves out of their seats and waved their favors eagerly at him, shouting his name. His smile was beguiling as he nodded and waved to each of them and ran a hand through his dark brown curls, which garnered another wave of high-pitched screams.

Your knuckles were white as they squeezed the arms of the ornate chair beneath you and your leg jostled anxiously beneath the folds of your dress. And like he could sense your discomfort, always so attuned to your every emotion his eyes drifted over the crowd to your box and found yours. He smiled softly and never broke your gaze as he turned and rode slowly in your direction to the great dissatisfaction of the many women who shouted after him.

He stopped in front of the box, and looked quickly to the prince, inclining his head.

“Your majesties” he said respectfully.

You stood, dropping the prince’s hand carelessly as you walked towards him and began to untie an emerald ribbon, the same color as his shield, from the lace of your dress, near your collarbone.

Not a person in the arena noticed but you that Mattheo’s eyes widened as they followed the path of your fingers, that the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

“Your highness—” he tried to say, to stop you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do or what not to do, but then you were leaning forward precariously over the balustrade and he had no choice but to lean into you too, to remain perfectly still even as he was clouded with your perfume, as your hair tumbled over your shoulders brushing his armor, the ends tickling his cheek, as your chest fell perfectly level with his eyes in a way that had him averting his gaze, though not nearly quick enough. And then your fingers brushed his neck, his collar as you affixed your ribbon there, taking your time as you looped and threaded it into his armor.

His eye caught yours and you held his gaze for two heartbeats longer than you should of before you spoke, softly, closely, to be heard over the crowd.

“I place my trust in your valor and skill. Take this token of my favor, may this small gift bring you luck and guide your hand.”

The words were spoken and yet you didn't move, stilling in front of the court, the gods, the prince and everyone close enough to kiss him...

...And fuck if he wasn’t thinking about it, the way your eyes held his like they could say more to him than you ever could: I’m worried about you, be careful, and something else that ran deeper, in the way your own cheeks were flushed, in the way your chest was rising and falling, in the way he swore your eyes flitted to his lips before you smiled, your real smile, not the one he watched you wear every day in court, but the one he told himself was reserved just for him. And then you leaned back, letting him go.

The crowd cheered as Mattheo took off at speed, pulling his helmet on. You were faintly aware of an undercurrent of whispers and as you turned to face the prince you saw a sneer on his face that betrayed exactly what he was thinking for the first time that day.

You sat next to him and he grabbed your hand, intentionally crushing your fingers with his grasp and holding tighter when you tried to pull away.

His plastered smile was back but he growled at you under his breath.

“Was. That. Really. Necessary?” squeezing your hand tighter with each word.

Your blood chilled with concern. The prince was demanding, he was a dick, he was petulant and he pushed things too far but you'd never seen him properly angry, at least, not at you.

What had come over you? What were you thinking?

You swallowed.

“It’s common practice for the lady of the house to offer a favor to the strongest competitor. And he’s our strongest, no?”

A pause. But you could see the curl of his lip. He wouldn’t admit it, even if you both knew it was true.

“If you were a knight, if you were competing, my favor would go only to you" you lied.

He didn’t even look at you.

That didn’t help.

Much to your satisfaction Mattheo crushed his competitor, and for the first time that day you were the one out of your seat cheering alongside everyone else as he tore his helmet off and roared in celebration, pumped full of adrenaline as he tossed it and took a victory lap around the arena.

Your heart soared to see him competing, fighting, doing what he was born to be so good at, and you felt guilty for only a moment that he had been resigned to tedious days following you around the castle.

The crowd continued to clap and cheer and a smaller section had broken into song but as you looked back at the prince you realized he was the only person in the entire arena who was still seated. Silent. Staring at Mattheo.

It wasn’t until much later, after the banquet and several rounds of celebratory drinks that Mattheo was able to find a way to be alone with you, a skill he was as practiced at as he was with his sword, as he swiftly convinced your guard that he would walk you back to your chambers, even though he was technically off duty.

Though off duty at this point was only a matter of pay, as he doubted he could ever share a space with you and not be keenly aware of your every movement.

Even though he’d thoroughly enjoyed the night and the simmering adrenaline from being back in the arena, he was aware that the prince was in a mood, which wasn't altogether unusual, but it seemed to be directed at you in a way he didn't like.

And he didn't like the way you averted your eyes from all conversation, the way you pushed your food around your plate, and didn't eat anything, not even your favorite dessert.

And when he noted that the more the prince drank, the handsier he got with you to the point you were nearly squirming out of your seat he thanked the gods that you excused yourself, which saved him the effort of shearing the prince's head from his body.

You were walking quickly, marching really but when Mattheo fell into step beside you your feet slowed and he was sure he saw your body relax, the tension lowering your shoulders as a slow smile spread across your face despite the fact that you didn’t turn to look at him.

You continued in amiable silence, appreciating the stolen moment alone, and he waited until you were nearly at your room and out of earshot before saying anything.

“You shouldn’t have done that" he murmured.

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, smirking.

“Today, your favor.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes even as your posture tightened.

“I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about it, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

He shook his head, as he carded his hand through his hair.

You weren’t wrong, but he’d heard the whispers, had seen the way people looked at him tonight, had seen the way the prince looked at him tonight. It had become abundantly clear that he’d gotten too comfortable, complacent with what it meant to be close to you.

Then again… maybe he was reading too far into it all? To think that what you had done was anything more than acknowledge that he was a strong competitor? In fact... had he been too forward just now in telling you what he thought? His head spun and it ached and he realized he was more drunk than he'd thought, and he was grateful to be at your door as he leaned against the doorframe for reprieve as you moved to open it.

But your hand paused on the iron handle, and you glanced up at him, and for the second time that day every inch of his body was at attention in your proximity as you looked at him with that same damn look in your eye and his heart melted as his lips smirked at you.

“For what it’s worth, Sir Riddle—” you said, addressing him teasingly as you let go of the handle and reached to gather the silhouette of your dress. You pulled it up and his eyes darted there and he swiftly forgot how to breath as you revealed your ankle, your calf, your knee and then your thigh and he swayed a little bit and was about to tell you that you should stop before he caught sight of an emerald ribbon knotted in a bow around your thigh, the same color as the one you’d tied to his armor that now sat in his pocket, the same color as the crest he wore on his shield, only this one sat against your skin, your perfect soft skin, your leg, your thigh, your inner thigh...

“—I always carry you with me" you whispered, and he pulled his eyes from beneath your dress to meet yours, "so it seemed only fair that you carry a bit of me with you.”

He could feel his body shaking with adrenaline, with fear, with the realization that what had transpired between you had gone far beyond playful banter, stolen glances, and a wish he’d held in his heart but never thought could come true.

And despite years of careful restraint, his hands betrayed him as he reached for you, moving to cup your face, to pull you towards him, his rough callouses brushing against your cheeks as your own hands came to cover his and you leaned into him, easily, without hesitation.

Your eyes fixed on his lips, and you were right there, a breath away, your eyes begging, pleading for him to kiss you...

"Dolcezza" he whispered, sliding into his native language as he grappled to find a proper way to express himself.

...And then laughter reverberated down the hall that broke both of you out of the moment as you jumped and stepped back, slipping out of his grasp looking at him reluctantly as your hand covered your mouth, tracing your lips, before you shook your head.

“G-goodnight, Mattheo” you said quickly, darting into your room and gently closing the door behind you.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as slumped to the floor and let his head fall against your door where he sat the rest of the night.

 »-♡→ part two - coming soon!

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @voidofsunlight @diorandcigaddict

[thewizardray]

this hit me like a truck

[thewizardray]

yum

i did both versions hehhe

[thewizardray]

my baby is hurt 😭😭😭

owch.

[thewizardray]

he makes me wanna confess all of my sins while on my knees...

Priest Jason is so 😍

[thewizardray]

THATS MEEEEEEE

welder!Mattheo + 4 NSFW

pretty please💗

4. what’s a foolproof way to turn you on?

“you don’t even have to try, darlin’,” mattheo answers easily, sending a cheeky wink in your direction. his gaze on you is playful, though it bears a certain darkness to it that speaks of his attraction more than words ever could.

“though if you really wanna drive a man crazy…” mattheo’s tongue rolls inside his cheek as he pretends to think. “you gotta cook for me, baby. gonna be honest – if i see you in a pretty little apron, i might just eat you up.”

get to know my aus.

[thewizardray]

tea leaves on christmas eve - mattheo riddle

summary: you and mattheo agree to have your tea leaves read as a joke, not expecting the surprising message they'd reveal.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: merry christmas, my loves! this is the fluffiest, softest thing i have ever written, and that's saying something ♡

The frosty air nipped your cheeks, carrying with it the scents of the holiday that surrounded you: peppermint, pine, and woodfire as you strode through Hogsmeade at eventide. The sky was turning a deep shade of midnight blue and rich violet which made the myriads of strung white lights hanging from the rooftops and doorways appear like stars twinkling around you.

Your boots crunched and crinkled in the packed snow alongside the eager footsteps of your friends who were laughing and joking with one another as you ambled along the annual Christmas market, enjoying the streets lined with vendors selling food, ornaments, and every twinkling bauble and treat you could imagine.

Your eyes dazzled as you took it all in, so idyllic and festive, but despite the enticing sights and sounds you felt your gaze continually drawn to the boy at your side, because it was simply impossible not to stare at him...

...The way his chestnut curls peeked out from underneath his hood, the way his long, dark lashes batted against his cheeks which were rosy from the cold, the way he was smiling, widely, genuinely, in a way that reached his amber eyes.

He was so handsome you felt a tug in your heart, a gravitational pull towards him that trying to defy felt like swimming against a fierce current, but as usual, you stuffed the feeling down, deep within you and tried to appear normal, happy and friendly. Mattheo was one of your closest friends, and even if you did have a raging crush on him, you'd never act on it. You could only imagine what Blaise or Pansy would say if they found out, let alone Theo and the others, you shook your head imperceptibly in an attempt to empty the thought from your mind.

You and Pansy dragged the boys from booth to booth, and despite their mumbles and groaning, you could tell they were enjoying it as they indulged in the endless amount of treats from peppermint sticks to chimney cakes and roasted chestnuts and they passed a flask between themselves to keep warm.

Theo had just taken a long sip from the small metallic container when his face broke into a wide smile and he nodded his head to a booth just ahead of you.

"Oi, look, they dragged the poor old bat out here" he laughed as your gaze followed his to see Professor Trelawney in a booth all her own.

Faded tapestries and multicolored shawls were draped around the booth and tasseled rugs covered the floor, creating a mini replica of the Divination classroom, but the only light coming from within shone from a host of low-burning candles that were dripping wax dramatically onto every available surface.

The sign above the booth announced that she was reading tea leaves, though it was starkly empty unlike the other booths that were crowded with patrons, and she was deeply focused on a crochet that looked an awful lot like an outfit for a cat.

"Gods she's a lunatic" Draco muttered.

"Truly mental" Theo agreed.

"You won't go over there and ask her to read your future" Draco dared, shoving Theo's arm.

Theo got a wicked smile on his face.

"I've got a better idea" he said. "Let's send Riddle instead, she's obsessed with him, always telling him about the dark and miserable ways he's going to die."

"Absolutely not" Mattheo said quickly with a non-humurous laugh.

But the idea was out and running on its own now.

"Ahaha yes mate! Please I need to see this" Blaise chimed in as the guys began to push Mattheo towards the booth, egging him on.

"Fucking not today" Mattheo groaned even as he laughed and swiped the flask from Theo's grasp, chugging it heartily before Theo snagged it back.

Mattheo wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his lips gleaming with the remnants of firewhiskey, you noted, when he caught your eye and grinned mischievously at you.

"Do it with me?" he asked, nearly pleading. "I can't face her alone."

"Fine, fine" you said, smiling at his pout, pushing him along in front of you as your friends followed closely behind.

Your group crowded into the small booth, nearly shoulder to shoulder. The smell of incense and old books overtook you as Trelawney glanced up, surprised to see anyone, let alone seven of you in front of her until her eyes landed on Mattheo and she jumped in excitement, the crochet falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Oh! Come in my dears, yes, yes, let me–" she said, flustered, knocking things over in her haste to situate herself as Draco snickered and Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.

Mattheo moved to sit on one of two large poufs that lined the low table in front of the professor and he yanked you down beside him. You sent him a look of mock defiance, but truthfully you were glad to feel his warmth next to you and your breath caught in your lungs as he pulled his hood down, his playful smile dancing in the candlelight in a way that brought a deep flush to your cheeks that you hoped he couldn't see.

"Here you go" Professor Trelawney said, bringing you back to the present moment as she placed two fragile tea cups in front of you while a matching teapot hovered over the table, pouring warm liquid into both.

"Thank you, Professor" Mattheo said charmingly and she smiled broadly at him, whether completely enamored by his good looks or dark fortune, you couldn't say.

"Drink, drink!" she said encouragingly, gesturing to the tea.

You glanced sidelong at each other and you caught him rolling his eyes subtly as you both leaned forward and you took a long sip of the tea. It was herbal and a little bitter with a lingering taste of peppermint.

"That's quite good, thank you, Professor" you said kindly, as Mattheo nodded in agreement.

You placed your cups down and she cleared the table before pulling them closer to her. She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled vigorously, dramatically several times. You could feel one of the boys behind you shaking with stilted laughter before her eyes flew open, magnified by her glasses, giving her the appearance of a crazed owl as she grasped Mattheo's cup with both hands, staring deeply at the remains of his tea leaves.

"Mmm, yes, yes, just as I feared" she murmured. "Dark and mysterious, Mr. Riddle, very, very dark indeed. You are in grave danger."

Mattheo cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his laughter.

"Oh, wow, of what Professor?" he asked, egging her on.

She turned the cup in her hands, eyes flickering to him and back to the cup again with a nervous smile.

"Well...the leaves...don't say, my dear, just know it's very dark and very grave. There will be misfortunes and hardships–" she carried on and on and you caught Mattheo's eye as he mouthed subtly, silently to you, "So many misfortunes and hardships" and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as he smiled.

"What about Ms. YLN here, Professor?" he interrupted finally, pulling Trelawney out of her stupor.

She smiled awkwardly, placing Mattheo's cup down reluctantly, before she cleared her throat and picked yours up, adjusting her glasses and blinking several times.

"Right, let's see" she said.

She peered into your teacup and her face scrunched almost immediately. "Well, I..." she started, before turning the cup this way and that before setting it gently down on the table, glancing back at Mattheo's cup and then up at the two of you.

Her expression was rather serious, and an unusual quiet settled on the group in a way that sent a small shiver through you, raising the hairs on your arm.

"Professor?" Mattheo asked, nearly a whisper, prompting her.

She reached for his cup, pulling it next to yours, and looked at them closely side by side.

"It's the faithful heart" she said finally, looking up from the cups to the two of you and for once her eyes expression wasn't manic, but calm, reassured.

"Sorry?" you asked, like any of you were supposed to know what that meant.

She slid the cups back to you and you both leaned forward. Immediately, you could see what she had seen: the remnants of the leaves in each cup held half a heart, that when placed side by side formed one.

"The meaning may seem obvious" she said, leaning forward, letting her fingers trace the patterns "but it represents two halves of a whole soul, one not fully complete without the other, two spirits destined for one another, destined to understand each other in a way no one else can or ever will, two hearts destined to beat as one."

You realized suddenly that you had been holding your breath because fuck if that wasn't exactly how you felt about him. You realized, too, that your friends were quiet, stone silent, like you could actually hear the snow that had begun to fall outside.

"It's rare" Professor Trelawney said, sitting back in her chair, smiling as she glanced between the two of you, "extraordinary."

Your cheeks were warm and though you'd remembered how to breath, the air felt heavy, a stifling mix of incense and Mattheo's cologne that when combined with the tea in your veins made you feel like your head was swimming. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering.

"Well, th-thank you, Professor" you said, flushing even deeper at the shake in your voice as you stood to leave and could feel the others come back to life besides you. "I hope you have a happy Christmas" you muttered quickly as you stepped out of the booth and back into the chilly air, grateful for the gust of cool wind to clear your mind.

Pansy came to stand beside you as the boys bustled ahead of you, joking and laughing once again.

Theo waited until they were out of earshot of the girls before he slung an arm around Mattheo's neck, pulling him into his side.

"Mate, I don't know you how did it, but you are a fucking artist at work, let me tell you!"

Mattheo stumbled in Theo's firm grasp, the motion jolting him out of the reverie of the snug booth, of the mint on his lips, the warm tea pulsing through him, and the look on your face in the flickering candlelight as you listened to the professor tell you you were meant for him. He felt excited, nauseous and anxious in equal measures.

"W-what?" he asked Theo.

"I know you've fancied YN for just about as long as you've known her" he said, glancing behind them cautiously before continuing, "but paying Trelawney to tell her you're soulmates? I mean that shit is romantic bro, you almost had me there."

"I didn't—" Mattheo started to say, but was interrupted as Blaise threw his arm around Mattheo from the other side, sandwiching him between them.

"I need a fucking drink after that. Broomsticks?"

"Yes!" Theo chanted in reply and they hauled Mattheo along as his mind continued to swirl, and he desperately tried to catch your eye.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with a loud and jolly crowd seeking solace from the biting cold as night settled over the town.

You miraculously found a curved wooden booth big enough for all of you, and as you slid in you found yourself directly across from Mattheo, though you managed expertly to avoid his gaze.

You could tell he was trying to catch your eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge him, because if you didn't look at him, you could pretend for just one moment longer that everything Professor Trelawney had said was true, that he could look at you like your souls were tethered together and not like you were one of his best mates.

You made every effort to focus on the conversation around you as your friends talked about holiday plans and new years parties, but it was proving impossible not to dissect everything the professor had said, to re-evaluate everything you knew about Mattheo, to start to see things in a different light.

You thought about how protective he was of you, even moreso than the other boys which was a feat in itself. He sat next to you at every meal, in every class. It wasn't unusual for him to reach for you if the corridor between classes was crowded or if you were in a public place, like he needed to make sure you were safe and by his side. He wouldn't ever let you walk in the castle alone at night, even if that meant falling asleep in the library besides you. But he always quick with excuses and explanations... "There was a fucking basilisk in here five years ago. Nice try, YLN, I will walk you to your dormitory thank you very much."

You thought about your first Christmas at Hogwarts, how you went home and he stayed here and how awfully you'd missed him, about how when you came back, he'd scooped you into his arms, grasping you tightly, not letting go, about how you resolved to spend every Christmas after that together. It didn't seem weird, it was the way you and Mattheo worked, it was just easier to be together than it was to be apart. But was it easier to be together or simply impossible for you to be separated?

Finally, you thought about how over the last 6 years neither one of you had dated anyone, and not for lack of ample opportunity on both sides, how your friends constantly nagged you about it. You blew it off, you were too busy with your studies, clearly. And Mattheo was too busy with quidditch.... Right?

"—YN, YN!" you focused back on the present as Pansy nudged you urgently at your side. "We're getting another round, do you want one?" she asked.

"Sure" you said blearily, dreamily, but as you slid to follow your friends out of the booth and stand in the crowd, you found yourself face to face with Mattheo who had stayed behind to find you, and suddenly there was no escape from his wide, brown eyes or the small smile on his lips as his gaze traced your face, eagerly drinking in the attention he'd been seeking from you for the last hour.

He said something you couldn't hear, and you stepped closer to him, fingers brushing his chest.

"What?" you asked.

"Do you wanna—?" he asked, tilting his head towards a quiet alcove near a large window at the back of the bar.

You nodded and he pulled you towards him, his large, warm hands resting on your hips in a comforting and protective gesture as he navigated you between the bar's rowdy patrons.

When you broke through the crowd and into the quiet corner, you glanced out the window in a last effort to distract yourself as you watched snow falling earnestly in large flurries.

"Hey" Mattheo said quietly, calmly, garnering your attention as you turned to face him and a smile spreading automatically on your lips at his rich voice, at his proximity.

His eyes were bright and twinkling, searching your face intently, perhaps picking up on your hesitancy, which wouldn't surprise you given that he often knew how you were feeling before you did.

"What I had started to say was... that was... something back there with Trelawney, huh?" he let out a breath, just shy of a laugh as he shook his head and carded his hand through his curls in an effort to hide the fact that his hands were shaking, had been since Trelawney had word for word described exactly how you made him feel. His heart would not stop racing; something about what Trelawney had said struck a chord so deep inside him, it was like his body was still humming with the note.

"Yeah... I don't really know what to think of it, I guess..." you replied nervously, not willing to say anything more, not wanting to make a fool of yourself.

He swallowed, eyes shifting to the snow outside, trying to gather the courage he may never have again.

"It's mad, really, to think about something like soulmates, especially from a pile of tea leaves, but... I don't know, at the same time, it kinda made sense to me" he said.

Your eyes blinked up at him and you could feel your pulse hammering in your neck.

"Did it?" you said quietly, breathlessly.

"With you it did, yeah" he said, meeting your eyes fully. "It made a lot more sense than anything else has between us in a long time. I hadn't had a word for it, for the way I feel when you're with me, calm, assured, happy. I always know where I stand with you, what you're thinking, how you're feeling, you're like an open book to me, like my favorite book that I want to read over and over and over again. And at the same time, it makes sense that when we're apart, I lose my mind YN. I don't think you have any idea what it does to me. I can't focus for shit, I'm worried about you, constantly, I feel unsettled, unmoored, it's why I follow you around the castle at night like a dog for Merlin's sake" he said, shaking his head, embarrassed. "That's not normal" he said before gesturing between the two of you "this isn't normal—"

"—I felt it too" you interrupted, "feel it too, I know exactly what you mean, Mattheo, every single word" you said, stepping closer to him.

"Are we crazy?" you whispered, laughing. This should feel weird, should feel incredibly strange and for the briefest moment you wondered if she'd put something in your tea, but then his fingertips brushed your waist again, pulling you closer to him and it felt like the last piece of a puzzle, a missing part of you sliding into place.

Mattheo was shaking his head and smiling, completely enamored with you, unable to look away.

"Nah, not crazy at all" he whispered back.

The air between you was crackling, electrified like the moment before lightning struck when suddenly small snowflakes began to fall around you. For a moment you thought there was a hole in the ceiling, but then you realized you were standing under an enchanted mistletoe that was jingling quietly and showering you both with snow that sparkled and then faded away.

You both looked up, laughing, before you met his gaze again, realizing he was close enough to brush his nose against yours. His warm hand cupped the side of your face and you leaned it as a feeling like melted honey rushed over your entire body and he brushed the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now" he whispered.

"Please—" you started to say before he stole the word out from behind your lips, capturing it with his own, consuming it with his perfect mouth as he pulled you firmly against him.

Every fiber of your being was a live wire, and you were certain that if anyone had touched the two of you, you'd have let off a spark. But being snug against his chest wasn't enough as you moved to wind your arms around his neck and his hands continued to grab onto you for purchase, carding into your hair, grasping at your sweater, the two of you nearly losing your footing in your attempt to close any remaining distance between you as you giggled, bubbling over with joy.

Pansy tucked her wand back into her boot as she looked on from the crowded bar at the two of you.

"The mistletoe was a nice touch" Draco nodded.

"It would have happened eventually" she defended.

"Inevitable" Enzo agreed as he popped by her side, eyeing the two of you as he sipped his butterbeer.

"Fucking finally!" Theo said heartily as he stepped to Draco's other side.

"Aww, would you look at that!" Blaise acknowledged, joining them as they watched the two of you. "Happy Christmas, guys!" he said, raising his glass.

"Happy Christmas!" they all agreed, raising their glasses together, thrilled to see their friends full of the love they both so deserved.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites

[thewizardray]

tea leaves on christmas eve - mattheo riddle

summary: you and mattheo agree to have your tea leaves read as a joke, not expecting the surprising message they'd reveal.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: merry christmas, my loves! this is the fluffiest, softest thing i have ever written, and that's saying something ♡

The frosty air nipped your cheeks, carrying with it the scents of the holiday that surrounded you: peppermint, pine, and woodfire as you strode through Hogsmeade at eventide. The sky was turning a deep shade of midnight blue and rich violet which made the myriads of strung white lights hanging from the rooftops and doorways appear like stars twinkling around you.

Your boots crunched and crinkled in the packed snow alongside the eager footsteps of your friends who were laughing and joking with one another as you ambled along the annual Christmas market, enjoying the streets lined with vendors selling food, ornaments, and every twinkling bauble and treat you could imagine.

Your eyes dazzled as you took it all in, so idyllic and festive, but despite the enticing sights and sounds you felt your gaze continually drawn to the boy at your side, because it was simply impossible not to stare at him...

...The way his chestnut curls peeked out from underneath his hood, the way his long, dark lashes batted against his cheeks which were rosy from the cold, the way he was smiling, widely, genuinely, in a way that reached his amber eyes.

He was so handsome you felt a tug in your heart, a gravitational pull towards him that trying to defy felt like swimming against a fierce current, but as usual, you stuffed the feeling down, deep within you and tried to appear normal, happy and friendly. Mattheo was one of your closest friends, and even if you did have a raging crush on him, you'd never act on it. You could only imagine what Blaise or Pansy would say if they found out, let alone Theo and the others, you shook your head imperceptibly in an attempt to empty the thought from your mind.

You and Pansy dragged the boys from booth to booth, and despite their mumbles and groaning, you could tell they were enjoying it as they indulged in the endless amount of treats from peppermint sticks to chimney cakes and roasted chestnuts and they passed a flask between themselves to keep warm.

Theo had just taken a long sip from the small metallic container when his face broke into a wide smile and he nodded his head to a booth just ahead of you.

"Oi, look, they dragged the poor old bat out here" he laughed as your gaze followed his to see Professor Trelawney in a booth all her own.

Faded tapestries and multicolored shawls were draped around the booth and tasseled rugs covered the floor, creating a mini replica of the Divination classroom, but the only light coming from within shone from a host of low-burning candles that were dripping wax dramatically onto every available surface.

The sign above the booth announced that she was reading tea leaves, though it was starkly empty unlike the other booths that were crowded with patrons, and she was deeply focused on a crochet that looked an awful lot like an outfit for a cat.

"Gods she's a lunatic" Draco muttered.

"Truly mental" Theo agreed.

"You won't go over there and ask her to read your future" Draco dared, shoving Theo's arm.

Theo got a wicked smile on his face.

"I've got a better idea" he said. "Let's send Riddle instead, she's obsessed with him, always telling him about the dark and miserable ways he's going to die."

"Absolutely not" Mattheo said quickly with a non-humurous laugh.

But the idea was out and running on its own now.

"Ahaha yes mate! Please I need to see this" Blaise chimed in as the guys began to push Mattheo towards the booth, egging him on.

"Fucking not today" Mattheo groaned even as he laughed and swiped the flask from Theo's grasp, chugging it heartily before Theo snagged it back.

Mattheo wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his lips gleaming with the remnants of firewhiskey, you noted, when he caught your eye and grinned mischievously at you.

"Do it with me?" he asked, nearly pleading. "I can't face her alone."

"Fine, fine" you said, smiling at his pout, pushing him along in front of you as your friends followed closely behind.

Your group crowded into the small booth, nearly shoulder to shoulder. The smell of incense and old books overtook you as Trelawney glanced up, surprised to see anyone, let alone seven of you in front of her until her eyes landed on Mattheo and she jumped in excitement, the crochet falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Oh! Come in my dears, yes, yes, let me–" she said, flustered, knocking things over in her haste to situate herself as Draco snickered and Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.

Mattheo moved to sit on one of two large poufs that lined the low table in front of the professor and he yanked you down beside him. You sent him a look of mock defiance, but truthfully you were glad to feel his warmth next to you and your breath caught in your lungs as he pulled his hood down, his playful smile dancing in the candlelight in a way that brought a deep flush to your cheeks that you hoped he couldn't see.

"Here you go" Professor Trelawney said, bringing you back to the present moment as she placed two fragile tea cups in front of you while a matching teapot hovered over the table, pouring warm liquid into both.

"Thank you, Professor" Mattheo said charmingly and she smiled broadly at him, whether completely enamored by his good looks or dark fortune, you couldn't say.

"Drink, drink!" she said encouragingly, gesturing to the tea.

You glanced sidelong at each other and you caught him rolling his eyes subtly as you both leaned forward and you took a long sip of the tea. It was herbal and a little bitter with a lingering taste of peppermint.

"That's quite good, thank you, Professor" you said kindly, as Mattheo nodded in agreement.

You placed your cups down and she cleared the table before pulling them closer to her. She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled vigorously, dramatically several times. You could feel one of the boys behind you shaking with stilted laughter before her eyes flew open, magnified by her glasses, giving her the appearance of a crazed owl as she grasped Mattheo's cup with both hands, staring deeply at the remains of his tea leaves.

"Mmm, yes, yes, just as I feared" she murmured. "Dark and mysterious, Mr. Riddle, very, very dark indeed. You are in grave danger."

Mattheo cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his laughter.

"Oh, wow, of what Professor?" he asked, egging her on.

She turned the cup in her hands, eyes flickering to him and back to the cup again with a nervous smile.

"Well...the leaves...don't say, my dear, just know it's very dark and very grave. There will be misfortunes and hardships–" she carried on and on and you caught Mattheo's eye as he mouthed subtly, silently to you, "So many misfortunes and hardships" and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as he smiled.

"What about Ms. YLN here, Professor?" he interrupted finally, pulling Trelawney out of her stupor.

She smiled awkwardly, placing Mattheo's cup down reluctantly, before she cleared her throat and picked yours up, adjusting her glasses and blinking several times.

"Right, let's see" she said.

She peered into your teacup and her face scrunched almost immediately. "Well, I..." she started, before turning the cup this way and that before setting it gently down on the table, glancing back at Mattheo's cup and then up at the two of you.

Her expression was rather serious, and an unusual quiet settled on the group in a way that sent a small shiver through you, raising the hairs on your arm.

"Professor?" Mattheo asked, nearly a whisper, prompting her.

She reached for his cup, pulling it next to yours, and looked at them closely side by side.

"It's the faithful heart" she said finally, looking up from the cups to the two of you and for once her eyes expression wasn't manic, but calm, reassured.

"Sorry?" you asked, like any of you were supposed to know what that meant.

She slid the cups back to you and you both leaned forward. Immediately, you could see what she had seen: the remnants of the leaves in each cup held half a heart, that when placed side by side formed one.

"The meaning may seem obvious" she said, leaning forward, letting her fingers trace the patterns "but it represents two halves of a whole soul, one not fully complete without the other, two spirits destined for one another, destined to understand each other in a way no one else can or ever will, two hearts destined to beat as one."

You realized suddenly that you had been holding your breath because fuck if that wasn't exactly how you felt about him. You realized, too, that your friends were quiet, stone silent, like you could actually hear the snow that had begun to fall outside.

"It's rare" Professor Trelawney said, sitting back in her chair, smiling as she glanced between the two of you, "extraordinary."

Your cheeks were warm and though you'd remembered how to breath, the air felt heavy, a stifling mix of incense and Mattheo's cologne that when combined with the tea in your veins made you feel like your head was swimming. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering.

"Well, th-thank you, Professor" you said, flushing even deeper at the shake in your voice as you stood to leave and could feel the others come back to life besides you. "I hope you have a happy Christmas" you muttered quickly as you stepped out of the booth and back into the chilly air, grateful for the gust of cool wind to clear your mind.

Pansy came to stand beside you as the boys bustled ahead of you, joking and laughing once again.

Theo waited until they were out of earshot of the girls before he slung an arm around Mattheo's neck, pulling him into his side.

"Mate, I don't know you how did it, but you are a fucking artist at work, let me tell you!"

Mattheo stumbled in Theo's firm grasp, the motion jolting him out of the reverie of the snug booth, of the mint on his lips, the warm tea pulsing through him, and the look on your face in the flickering candlelight as you listened to the professor tell you you were meant for him. He felt excited, nauseous and anxious in equal measures.

"W-what?" he asked Theo.

"I know you've fancied YN for just about as long as you've known her" he said, glancing behind them cautiously before continuing, "but paying Trelawney to tell her you're soulmates? I mean that shit is romantic bro, you almost had me there."

"I didn't—" Mattheo started to say, but was interrupted as Blaise threw his arm around Mattheo from the other side, sandwiching him between them.

"I need a fucking drink after that. Broomsticks?"

"Yes!" Theo chanted in reply and they hauled Mattheo along as his mind continued to swirl, and he desperately tried to catch your eye.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with a loud and jolly crowd seeking solace from the biting cold as night settled over the town.

You miraculously found a curved wooden booth big enough for all of you, and as you slid in you found yourself directly across from Mattheo, though you managed expertly to avoid his gaze.

You could tell he was trying to catch your eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge him, because if you didn't look at him, you could pretend for just one moment longer that everything Professor Trelawney had said was true, that he could look at you like your souls were tethered together and not like you were one of his best mates.

You made every effort to focus on the conversation around you as your friends talked about holiday plans and new years parties, but it was proving impossible not to dissect everything the professor had said, to re-evaluate everything you knew about Mattheo, to start to see things in a different light.

You thought about how protective he was of you, even moreso than the other boys which was a feat in itself. He sat next to you at every meal, in every class. It wasn't unusual for him to reach for you if the corridor between classes was crowded or if you were in a public place, like he needed to make sure you were safe and by his side. He wouldn't ever let you walk in the castle alone at night, even if that meant falling asleep in the library besides you. But he always quick with excuses and explanations... "There was a fucking basilisk in here five years ago. Nice try, YLN, I will walk you to your dormitory thank you very much."

You thought about your first Christmas at Hogwarts, how you went home and he stayed here and how awfully you'd missed him, about how when you came back, he'd scooped you into his arms, grasping you tightly, not letting go, about how you resolved to spend every Christmas after that together. It didn't seem weird, it was the way you and Mattheo worked, it was just easier to be together than it was to be apart. But was it easier to be together or simply impossible for you to be separated?

Finally, you thought about how over the last 6 years neither one of you had dated anyone, and not for lack of ample opportunity on both sides, how your friends constantly nagged you about it. You blew it off, you were too busy with your studies, clearly. And Mattheo was too busy with quidditch.... Right?

"—YN, YN!" you focused back on the present as Pansy nudged you urgently at your side. "We're getting another round, do you want one?" she asked.

"Sure" you said blearily, dreamily, but as you slid to follow your friends out of the booth and stand in the crowd, you found yourself face to face with Mattheo who had stayed behind to find you, and suddenly there was no escape from his wide, brown eyes or the small smile on his lips as his gaze traced your face, eagerly drinking in the attention he'd been seeking from you for the last hour.

He said something you couldn't hear, and you stepped closer to him, fingers brushing his chest.

"What?" you asked.

"Do you wanna—?" he asked, tilting his head towards a quiet alcove near a large window at the back of the bar.

You nodded and he pulled you towards him, his large, warm hands resting on your hips in a comforting and protective gesture as he navigated you between the bar's rowdy patrons.

When you broke through the crowd and into the quiet corner, you glanced out the window in a last effort to distract yourself as you watched snow falling earnestly in large flurries.

"Hey" Mattheo said quietly, calmly, garnering your attention as you turned to face him and a smile spreading automatically on your lips at his rich voice, at his proximity.

His eyes were bright and twinkling, searching your face intently, perhaps picking up on your hesitancy, which wouldn't surprise you given that he often knew how you were feeling before you did.

"What I had started to say was... that was... something back there with Trelawney, huh?" he let out a breath, just shy of a laugh as he shook his head and carded his hand through his curls in an effort to hide the fact that his hands were shaking, had been since Trelawney had word for word described exactly how you made him feel. His heart would not stop racing; something about what Trelawney had said struck a chord so deep inside him, it was like his body was still humming with the note.

"Yeah... I don't really know what to think of it, I guess..." you replied nervously, not willing to say anything more, not wanting to make a fool of yourself.

He swallowed, eyes shifting to the snow outside, trying to gather the courage he may never have again.

"It's mad, really, to think about something like soulmates, especially from a pile of tea leaves, but... I don't know, at the same time, it kinda made sense to me" he said.

Your eyes blinked up at him and you could feel your pulse hammering in your neck.

"Did it?" you said quietly, breathlessly.

"With you it did, yeah" he said, meeting your eyes fully. "It made a lot more sense than anything else has between us in a long time. I hadn't had a word for it, for the way I feel when you're with me, calm, assured, happy. I always know where I stand with you, what you're thinking, how you're feeling, you're like an open book to me, like my favorite book that I want to read over and over and over again. And at the same time, it makes sense that when we're apart, I lose my mind YN. I don't think you have any idea what it does to me. I can't focus for shit, I'm worried about you, constantly, I feel unsettled, unmoored, it's why I follow you around the castle at night like a dog for Merlin's sake" he said, shaking his head, embarrassed. "That's not normal" he said before gesturing between the two of you "this isn't normal—"

"—I felt it too" you interrupted, "feel it too, I know exactly what you mean, Mattheo, every single word" you said, stepping closer to him.

"Are we crazy?" you whispered, laughing. This should feel weird, should feel incredibly strange and for the briefest moment you wondered if she'd put something in your tea, but then his fingertips brushed your waist again, pulling you closer to him and it felt like the last piece of a puzzle, a missing part of you sliding into place.

Mattheo was shaking his head and smiling, completely enamored with you, unable to look away.

"Nah, not crazy at all" he whispered back.

The air between you was crackling, electrified like the moment before lightning struck when suddenly small snowflakes began to fall around you. For a moment you thought there was a hole in the ceiling, but then you realized you were standing under an enchanted mistletoe that was jingling quietly and showering you both with snow that sparkled and then faded away.

You both looked up, laughing, before you met his gaze again, realizing he was close enough to brush his nose against yours. His warm hand cupped the side of your face and you leaned it as a feeling like melted honey rushed over your entire body and he brushed the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now" he whispered.

"Please—" you started to say before he stole the word out from behind your lips, capturing it with his own, consuming it with his perfect mouth as he pulled you firmly against him.

Every fiber of your being was a live wire, and you were certain that if anyone had touched the two of you, you'd have let off a spark. But being snug against his chest wasn't enough as you moved to wind your arms around his neck and his hands continued to grab onto you for purchase, carding into your hair, grasping at your sweater, the two of you nearly losing your footing in your attempt to close any remaining distance between you as you giggled, bubbling over with joy.

Pansy tucked her wand back into her boot as she looked on from the crowded bar at the two of you.

"The mistletoe was a nice touch" Draco nodded.

"It would have happened eventually" she defended.

"Inevitable" Enzo agreed as he popped by her side, eyeing the two of you as he sipped his butterbeer.

"Fucking finally!" Theo said heartily as he stepped to Draco's other side.

"Aww, would you look at that!" Blaise acknowledged, joining them as they watched the two of you. "Happy Christmas, guys!" he said, raising his glass.

"Happy Christmas!" they all agreed, raising their glasses together, thrilled to see their friends full of the love they both so deserved.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites

[thewizardray]

the black lake - mattheo riddle

summary: 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.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was was so fun to think about! lots of references to goblet of fire! lots of swearing, matty is not a happy camper in this one. enjoy ♡

Obviously this boy would put his name in the Goblet of Fire (all of the boys did) and there would be a lot of feelings about him being chosen as the Hogwarts champion, lots of accusations about him rigging the selection (he probably did). But he'd definitely crush the competition, especially when he had the right motivation...

ˋ°•*⁀➷

It's the morning of the second task, the day crisp and frosty, creating puffs of air as Mattheo huffed in exertion, marching down to the Black Lake surrounded by his friends. Suffice to say, he was pissed. It was fucking frigid outside and he hadn't seen you all morning, the combination enough to set him dangerously on edge.

You'd told him you'd come spend the night with him, and if nothing else you always ate breakfast together, so when you didn't show up last night and you were nowhere to be found this morning he was furious that you'd blown him off. Now he was spending his entire walk from the castle to the lake ruminating over it, piling on every perceived slight over the last few days, including the way he saw you talking to a group of guys from Durmstrang in the Great Hall yesterday, causing him to involuntarily curl his hands into fists at his side.

His friends walked beside him, surrounding him in a sort of semicircle, but moving in complete silence; they knew better than to try to say anything to him when he was in a mood like this. Before long, Pansy came running to meet them, nearly out of breath as she said, exasperated, "I couldn't fucking find her. She's not anywhere in our dormitory, in the library, I don't know where she's gone." Concern and frustration laced her voice as she looked at the group and then up at Mattheo.

This wasn't like you.

You had been Mattheo's #1 supporter throughout the whole tournament, helping him prepare, cheering him on, jumping into his arms the moment he'd defeated his dragon, and generally always glued to his side. In fact, you were always glued to all of their sides, the group of you being nearly inseparable, so having you missing made all of the boys feel shifty and on edge as they looked at one another.

Fear bloomed in Mattheo's chest. And the feeling of fear when it came to you did not sit well with him. He didn't want to feel afraid, to feel vulnerable when it came to you, so he opted to shove the feeling down, keeping instead with anger which was much easier and more natural to him.

"I don't have time for this" he muttered, quickening his pace as they all scrambled to keep up with him.

The biting wind whipped through his dark curls and stung his cheeks as he stood on the platform above the lake, staring into the middle-distance of the dark and choppy waves. Students and staff alike were cheering and shouting their encouragement for their champions, but he was completely zoned out, his mind bouncing back and forth between your lingering absence and the task ahead of him. He only perked up when Dumbledore's loud voice rang out over the crowd.

"Welcome to the second task!" it radiated.

"Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts—"

Mattheo's heart plummeted so fast into his stomach that he subconsciously grasped at his chest. A treasure? There wasn't a thing he owned that he valued enough to call a treasure, not a single thing in his life that held that much weight... except you. You were undeniably his treasure. He looked back into the murky water of the Black Lake... it couldn't be... he thought ... surely they wouldn't... as Dumbledore's voice continued.

"—These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake—" Mattheo's stomach lurched with what little breakfast he'd been able to eat as his eyes shot to Pansy's in the crowd in enough time to see her clasp her hand to her mouth as she pieced the situation together.

"—In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this. They will have but one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. No magic will save them."

Mattheo's feet were moving before Dumbledore said another word, sprinting towards the water because fuck this stupid tournament, and fuck the geezer for thinking he could take you away from him, that he could put you in danger.

"You may begin at the sound of the cannon."

BOOM!

Mattheo heard the blast as his body hit the water, diving headfirst into the waves without bothering to cast a spell, without a care to what he'd find within the foreboding depths.

The cold shocked his system, but his heart was hammering for plenty of other reasons as he pulled his body through the fierce current, his strong arms and legs working against the waves.

For a minute he was surrounded in dark nothingness. He could feel rather than see that he wasn't alone in the water, occasionally sensing something moving on either side of him, but he didn't have time, you didn't have time for him to care. His lungs started to burn and he pressed his wand to his neck, casting a spell frantically so as not to waste another second.

After swimming at an impossible pace for so long he wondered if there even was a bottom to the lake, he heard an ethereal sound, like singing and changed course to swim towards it, which brought him to a large clearing where he could see merpeople swimming around. The few nearest him whipped their heads toward him, surprised at his presence as they turned to face him fully. He dared them, dared any fucking one of them to come near him, welcomed it actually, a chance to take out his rage, but they steered clear, perhaps sensing it would be a losing battle despite the tritons they carried and their razor-sharp teeth.

He swam on, his muscles straining, aching with the exertion of pulling his weight through the thick water at such an unwavering and desperate pace, but the feeling faded, drained from him, as four distinct figures came into view, four bodies, tethered and floating in the water, their hair moving eerily around their faces, their bodies stiff and still, like corpses.

He identified you immediately and he swam harder and harder until he was close enough to touch you. He brushed a hand against your cheek; your skin held a blueish tint and your face was expressionless, void of the smile that you always had for him, that reached your eyes, that lit up your face, the absence of it was enough to make his eyes sting in a way that had nothing to do with the brackish water.

He grasped your stiff form, the resistance of your body against his continuing to mess with his mind as he sent a spell to sever the rope that secured you and tried not to think about how rigid you felt in his arms.

His ability to breath underwater didn't matter for shit, because he was certain he didn't breath the entire way back, climbing harder and harder as he carried your weight with him, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to save you, thinking the entire time how fucking foolish he'd been to spend even one second mad at you today.

Finally, he could see the light of the surface, the grey clouds in the sky reflecting in the waves, and after a final series of strong kicks he broke through the current.

Immediately, he felt you come alive again in his arms, spluttering and coughing as you grasped for him.

"M-Matty!?" you said hysterically, the cold and fear in your voice setting his heart in a vice as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around in confusion at your surroundings. "What happened?! Where—?!"

"—It's okay, you're okay, you're safe" he said, pulling you against him, keeping you both afloat even as you rocked in the waves and he gasped deeply for air.

"C'mere, c'mon" he said, swimming with you in his embrace towards the platform, anxious to get you out of the freezing water.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when you'd breached the surface, and they were announcing that Mattheo was the champion by a long shot, not having been in the water for more than 20 minutes, the other champions still completely unaccounted for. But hearing talk of the competition and seeing everyone's ignorance about the whole situation as they clapped and smiled was pushing him to his limit as he hoisted you up to Pansy who greeted you with a thick towel.

Mattheo pulled himself out of the water, barely taking time to wrap a towel around his shoulders before grabbing three more and pulling them around you. You laughed under the heavy bundle, even as your shivering continued uncontrollably. "I-I'm okay, I-I'm okay" you said, trying to reassure him, even as you noticed that he wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Buncha fucking idiots" you heard him muttering as he rubbed your arms before he stooped down and swept you off your feet bridal style, one hand around your waist, the other holding on to your legs. The crowd cheered again, erupting in a sigh of "awws" at the gesture until he began barreling towards them.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned, "Where are we—?"

"—Anywhere but here" he growled as people began pushing each other to get out of his way.

"Mr. Riddle!" McGonagall chided, chasing after you both as you watched her from over his shoulder, urging him to stop as a couple of other professors followed in pursuit.

He veered towards the raised platform where the headmasters were seated, coming to a brief stop in front of Dumbledore who had stood to his feet.

"You are out of your fucking mind!" Mattheo spat at him.

Several people around you gasped, even Igor Karkaroff had the wherewithal to look surprised, impressed even, before Mattheo walked away, marching right off the platform and back towards the school as the entire crowd watched you go.

You could tell Mattheo was tired, beyond tired, physically, emotionally; you could feel his arms shaking against your weight.

"Matty, I can walk, it's okay" you said quietly, but he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't set you down, wouldn't even respond to you or meet your eyes. So you resigned yourself to resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck which seemed to relax him a bit.

He carried you all the way to his room, making his way to the bathroom where he finally set you down and immediately began running you a hot bath. Wordlessly, he found a towel and a set of his clothes for you to wear, placing them at the edge of the tub before leaving without a word, closing the door gently behind him.

You looked anxiously at the closed door, aware that something was very very wrong, but also acknowledging that he might need a minute, and that you still couldn't feel the tips of your fingers or toes, so you resigned yourself to the hot water.

It felt heavenly, as did washing the muck of the lake off your skin and out of your hair. You reveled in the smell of his soap, like cedar and evergreen, but you were too anxious to sit there any longer than necessary, quickly pulling on his sweatpants and sweatshirt that engulfed your frame as you toweled your hair dry and pushed the door open.

Mattheo was seated at the edge of his bed, still dripping wet, his body shaking noticeably as he stared at the ground. He glanced up when he heard you, visibly relaxing a bit as he took in your warm, rosy cheeks and your soft smile, his mind flashing for only a moment to your unsmiling rigid form floating in the water, trying to reconcile that version of you with the one in front of him.

You approached him slowly, moving to stand between his legs as you took his face in your warm hands, tilting it to look at you. He had a strained, puzzled expression on his face as his eyes drank you in before his hands came to rest on your waist.

"Babe—" you started.

"—I love you" he said.

Your heart somersaulted over the words you'd never heard him say before as you let out a small breath, your hand moving to cover your mouth in shock as your eyes widened.

"I'm-I'm a fucking wreck for you" he continued, laughing humorlessly as he shook his head. "Today... really fucked me up. I thought I'd lost you, I thought..." he paused, getting quiet "...The way you looked down there, alone, miles under the water, surrounded by all sorts of shit" he shook his head harder like he could unlive the memory of it all.

"I should have told you sooner, because I've known for awhile, for a long fucking time, but I've been too scared to say it, too scared that you don't remotely feel the same way, but that doesn't matter anymore, nothing fucking matters other than you hearing me say it, today, every day, I love you, YN." His eyes met yours finally, wide and sincere. "With everything I've got, I love you."

"I love you too!—" you whispered, and the words were barely out of your mouth before he pressed his cold lips to yours, pulling you into him so tightly you let out an involuntary squeak as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and he fell backwards onto his bed, continuing to mumble against your lips "Iloveyou, loveyou, I loveyou", smushing your kisses with his affectionate words until you were laughing with joy, the sound finally reassuring him that you were his, and that you were okay.

♡

@kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girlblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

[thewizardray]

riddle's girl - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo has…feelings about you wearing his quidditch jersey

word count: 2.5k

a/n: just more fluffy sweetness! in my mind this takes place shortly after cold comfort, but they're really unrelated so this can be read as a standalone! ♡

There weren't a lot of things Mattheo liked about being a prefect. He had no interest in being the Slytherin house snitch, in shutting down parties or telling kids they couldn't smoke in the bathroom. So, he didn't do any of it; he threw parties, stole their joints and dared anyone to tell him he couldn't do otherwise.

There weren't many people willing to stand up to the Dark Lord's son, and those that were were pulling the same shit right alongside him. So, he did none of the work but got all of the perks, up to and including having his own room, which, once he started dating you turned out to be just about his favorite thing in the world, and, also, a necessity if the rest of the castle didn't want to be up listening to the two of you at all hours of the night... and morning... and afternoon.

He smirked as he hurried through the halls, eager to get to you, knowing you would be in his room now waiting for him. It was a few hours before his first quidditch match of the year and you were his good luck charm, a necessary part of his pre-match routine.

As he whispered the password to the entrance of his room, he could hear your music playing as you sang along softly to it, probably Taylor Swift, which he'd tell you to turn off but now so closely associated with you that he found himself listening to her even when you weren't around (though he'd deny it to anyone that asked).

He smiled as he walked through the door and took in the sight in front of him: there were little parts of you scattered all over the room, which felt just as much yours as it was his; stacks of your books and a flickering candle took over his bookshelf, a bra and an unkempt pile of clothes on his chair, and you were seated at his desk which you had taken over completely to do your makeup, leaning into a small mirror applying mascara before you caught his eye and turned to face him excitedly.

"Hi!" you said, even more bubbly than usual as you popped up and walked over to him, nearly throwing yourself into his arms as he caught your lips with his own and pulled you into him.

"Mmpf!" you mumbled against his lips in surprise before pulling away. "Wait, wait wait, what do you think?" you said, stepping back to show him your outfit with your arms extended even as he made grabby hands trying to pull you back.

You were in one of his team-issued quidditch jerseys; it engulfed you, coming to the midpoint of your thighs which were bare, the sight an absolute vision that had every part of him twitching to toss you onto the bed.

"Fucking hot" he said with a smirk, his brown eyes wide and twinkling. "Maybe put some pants on before you go, but that sounds like a problem for later us."

"Matty!" you laughed, smacking his arm to scold him before you turned to give him the 360-degree view.

You paused with your back to him, pulling your hair to the side and looking over your shoulder at him... and he swore his heart stopped beating in his chest as he fully registered the sight in front of him: You. Wearing his last name. "Riddle" prominently spelled out on the back of the jersey.

His eyebrows drew together and he brought his hand to his chest, subconsciously resting on his heart, a look of discomfort on his face that immediately had you turning back to him.

"Oh—are you— is this okay?" you asked.

It was tradition for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends' jerseys the first match of the year, but you two had barely just started dating and you had never talked about this; he truthfully didn't seem into this kind of thing and now you were worried you'd taken things too far.

Mattheo still hadn't said anything, still had trouble catching his breath. Conceptually he understood it was just you in his jersey, but you wearing his last name like that had shifted something inside him. YN Riddle, YN Riddle was all he could think in his head, how much he liked the sound of it, and what that meant... he was a fucking goner for you. You had turned his life on its head in the short period of time you two had been dating and he had no intention of scaring you away with the idea of marriage months into a relationship - what the hell was the matter with him??

...And who says you'd even want to marry him or take his name for that matter? No one in their right mind would want to marry into his family or take a name that was spoken like a curse. He thought of the way people spit it out of their mouths, like they hated the very taste of it on their tongue. He couldn't, wouldn't do that to you, realizing finally that what he was looking at in front of him was a mirage at best, a nightmare at worst. The whole situation and the frustration of it all made him furious.

You were looking at him with a puzzled expression on your face and he realized you'd asked him something.

"It's...I don't know..." he mumbled, his head still whirling.

"You don't...know?" About us? you thought.

"I...don't know... it's...." he was trying to come up with the words to say but kept getting angrier and angrier. "Fucking hell" he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. And now you were certain you'd overdone it and put too much pressure on your relationship.

"It's fine, I'll take it off, I don't have to wear it" you said, turning to look for your discarded clothes as much to hide the tears in your eyes. You pulled your jeans on, pulled the jersey off and covered yourself with your sweater before he could register what was happening. He could sense the swift change in your mood but was still trying so hard to figure out his own feelings he was struggling to keep up.

"If you want to, you can—"

"—It's fine" you replied quickly, your voice wobbling. You were grabbing your things and walking out and Mattheo couldn't fathom what he had done wrong other than dream of a world where you could have his last name.

"Good luck" you said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as you left.

What the fuck just happened he thought.

The wind whipped wildly through Mattheo's curls and he bobbed on his broom against the gusts, his eyes never leaving your seat in the stands no matter where he flew. The game whizzed around him and he was doing the bare minimum to contribute, his mind unable to focus on anything but your earlier conversation.

He had tried to catch your eye a few times but you seemed intent on avoiding his gaze, intent on focusing on the people around you and when you turned to talk to the girl behind you and he saw Malfoy's name on your back he nearly lost his grip and slipped off his broom.

Draco was like a brother to you, and you were seated next to his girlfriend Pansy in her own matching jersey, so it wasn't jealousy that reared its ugly head, but something much deeper, something possessive that simmered inside of him. That should be my name he thought as he gripped his broom so hard his knuckles turned white. She's fucking mine.

"Get your damn head in the game will you?" a teammate shouted as they flew by. But now the chances of that happening were even slimmer. You. His girlfriend. Wearing Malfoy's fucking name.

Mattheo seemed...off.

He was missing passes, dropping the quaffle, just generally out of it, which was completely uncharacteristic for one of Slytherin's star players. You didn't know for sure, but you couldn't help but feel like you were a contributing factor, that the conversation you'd had... or didn't really have earlier was to blame. You twiddled the rings on your fingers with anxiety and you began to feel guilt welling up when Mattheo suddenly dropped out of play, beelining towards the coaches and team staff gathered on the grass of the pitch.

"What the hell is he doing now?" Pansy huffed.

Mattheo was off his broom and storming towards a group of third years that helped the team by washing jerseys and mending brooms, and he grabbed one of them by the front of the robes so hard he nearly pulled him off his feet. He was shouting at him, telling him something, and the kid looked like he wanted to cry. He was nodding violently with every sentence Mattheo said before Mattheo turned and pointed to you.

At this point the entire stadium was murmuring and it had nothing to do with the game. People loved to watch Mattheo play on a regular day and now whispers were flying faster than broomsticks at the scene unfolding in front of the entire school.

The kid gave one last violent nod before running at a full sprint up into the stands, back towards the castle and Mattheo was back on his broom to a cacophony of cheers as he flew past you.

Your cheeks were flushed cherry red at the thought that he had stopped in the middle of his game to talk about you... surely that wasn't the case. Was it? The box around you was full of excited whispers and Pansy nudged you conspiratorially with raised eyebrows.

"I have no idea what's going" you hissed back, in an effort to keep things quiet.

Not ten minutes later, the whispers around you turned to murmurs again that got louder and louder until you turned to see the third year from earlier, nearly purple in the face from exertion tripping over himself and the people around him.

"M'looking for YN, YN, Riddle's girl?"

Riddle's girl.

The jersey on your back hadn't fooled a soul, they all pointed to you. He nearly collapsed at your feet, as he held up his hand, Mattheo's jersey fisted in his fingers as he huffed and puffed.

"Ma—Mattheo—Mattheo wants you to wear this. P-Please. Please put it on. Idon'twanthimtokillme, he said he would kill me if you didn't, I-I really think he meant it" he said through gasping breaths as his eyes watered.

Your hand covered your mouth to hide your smile.

"He is not going to kill you" you said reassuringly, as you let out a small laugh, the big bad Mattheo everyone was so afraid of so different than the boy you knew so well.

"But c-can you please put it on. Please. Just to be sure?" he whimpered.

You thought about his words as you ran your finger over the fabric of Mattheo's name. 'Mattheo wants you to wear this.' He had stopped in the middle of his match to make a kid go get it, you weren't going to say no. You pulled it on over your sweater, enjoying the lingering smell of him that now engulfed you as you blushed to yourself.

Mattheo was watching out of the corner of his eye as he dodged a bludger, and when he turned to see you wearing his name, a soft smile on your lips, he felt a calm settle over him, as something warm settled in his chest. Pride he realized after a moment. Pride for his last name, and pride for you in it.

Mattheo had turned the tide of the game scoring three goals and leading Slytherin to a victory. The crowd was buzzing with excitement as you bustled your way towards the locker room to wait for him. You could hear the team chanting and singing in celebration and you were ready to wait a long time for him to finally break away from his friends, but it was only minutes before he pushed through the door.

The crowd that had gathered cheered for him but he didn't respond, his eyes scanning the horde before they landed on you. He shoved a few people out of the way before the rest cleared a path for him and when he was finally in front of you, you couldn't help but glow at him, proud of the way he played and warm and fuzzy inside at all that he'd done for you.

"Babe—!" you started as he smiled at you, and then he grasped your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your lips inciting a loud round of shouts and cheers around you. He smelled like wet leather from his gloves, grass, dirt and sweat and yet it was intoxicating to you, because it was him. He let go of you only briefly enough to flip your onlookers the middle finger before he guided you quickly away from prying eyes.

"C'mon" he said.

"Oh! Okay—bye, Pansy" you said, waving at her as she winked at you.

Mattheo held you firmly at a fast pace until you were away from the crowd.

"Hey-hey slow down!" you said, pulling him to a stop. "...Thank you for that." Your eyes were wide and warm as they looked up at him. "I know it's silly, and maybe it felt a little too fast or too serious or something" you said, your words flying out as you tried to explain it. "I just—it's—I'm yours and I want people to know that. I'm proud of it."

He cleared his throat and looked around, trying to rearrange his face so as not to show the emotion that was welling up inside of him. Proud. You were proud. Of him, to be his. He looked back at you glowing up at him like a godsdamn angel and wondered what the fuck he ever did to deserve you.

"Told you it looked good on you" is all he could manage at first, and a warm smile lit your face, but you waited patiently, knowing there was more, knowing just how much his brain tended to work in overdrive.

"Look, my name, it's not...good... it's not something to be proud of. People hate it, fuck, I hate it—" he said as he ran his hand through his hair and avoided your gaze, never having come close to saying anything like this out loud before. He swallowed before he felt your hand slip into his and looked down at you. "—But seeing you in it?... I don't know... made me think...maybe it doesn't always have to be that way..."

Now you were trying to rearrange your face, biting your bottom lip as you looked at him, tears brimming your eyes.

He searched your expression desperately, were those good tears, sad tears?

You slid your arms around him and hugged him to you, pressing your body against his and he relaxed into your arms.

"So, yeah, it's yours if you want it" he said, as he nuzzled into you, referring to the jersey, and his last name too...one day.

"Of course I do" you said adamantly.

He pulled back and captured your lips in his, kissing you deeply, passionately, sending your heart aflutter in your chest.

"Now I think you owe me my favorite part of my pre-match routine, Riddle" he whispered against your lips.

"Gladly" you whispered back against his lips.

[thewizardray]

uughh…thinking about Jason Todd definitely being the type of guy to tuck your head on a pillow so gently like a pure pinch from his blood stained hands will shatter you, cover your body with a blanket ever so softly, placing a ghostly kiss on your temple and brush your hair gently away from your resting face after saying “I’m not gentle.”

The type of guy who’ll tell you that you can leave during a fight, but he’s already locked the door and hid the key with him so you’ll have no choice but to go back to him with that annoying smirk on his face.

The type of guy to have your name carved into one of his most used guns, all of his guns have names but the one with your name is specifically special. He takes entire days dedicated to disassembling his guns and throughly clean them. Always leaves the one with your name on last, so he can enjoy and relish in seeing your carved letters on his gun shine under his hands. It’s like a spa day for him and his beloved guns.

[thewizardray]

sweetheart!reader is tipsy at a party... mattheo comes to the rescue

content warning: underage drinking, mentions of reader being drunk

thank you to the anon who gave me this idea <3 here's a look into situationship!mattheo !! also gilmore girls/jess mariano reference because i love him

You're chatting and giggling away at Theo in a secluded corner of the loud Slytherin party, you're two drinks in and much more than a little tipsy.

"It's, like, you don't even understand how sad it is," your hands are moving around wildly, matching your wide, impassioned eyes as you continued to ramble, "Jess was literally perfect for her when he got older 'cause he, like, totally matured! You know? He convinced her to go back to Yale and he read books!"

Theo nods along from his place on the couch, his eyes following your movements as you pace in front of him, he's only half following what you're slurring together, before he catches the eye of his friend.

Mattheo walks over until he's only a few inches behind you.

"Sweetheart." Mattheo calls, you turn around to see him standing behind you with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Matty!" She giggles, practically jumping into his, now open, arms.

"Your girlfriend's a lightweight." Theo muses.

"M'not his girlfriend." She pouts.

"Not yet." He corrects, making her beam. He didn't like to give false hope but he knew she most likely wouldn't remember this by tomorrow morning.

As he watched her sway, balancing in her chunky high heels, he wasn't sure she would remember most of this in five minutes.

He turns his attention to Theo. "How much has she had to drink?"

"Not too much, like I said, lightweight." Theo laughs, "I was watching her 'till you came, figured you'd be worried."

You were too enamoured by the hem of Mattheo's shirt to hear what Theo was saying.

"Thanks, man." He says, there's a beat of silence filled only by your quiet giggles at nothing, "Well, I'm here now."

"And! That's my cue to leave." He stands from the couch.

"Bye Sweetheart!" He waves goodbye to you like a kindergarten teacher would to a child, bending a little to the height of your slightly slumped over form. Mattheo nods as a sort of farewell and you wave your fingers absentmindedly, still focused on Mattheo's clothes.

Mattheo turns to you, again, and gently guides you to the couch.

"Your eyes are so sparkly." You murmur, bringing a hand up to his face clumsily.

"Sparkly?" He asks, amused.

"Yeah, it's like there's glitter in it." You say, giggling more, "I love glitter."

He laughs, you attempt to scowl.

"Don't laugh." You whine, "M'trying to flirt."

At least some things never change.

"Well, then, thank you, Sweetheart." Mattheo said, "I think your eyes are sparkly as well."

You squealed at the compliment, too drunk to keep your reactions inside where they were usually kept.

"Matty, Matty, Matty." You call suddenly, tugging on his arm.

"Yes, Sweetheart." He says patiently, putting one hand on top of yours to settle her down.

"I love y-" your words muffle when he puts a finger on top of her lips, you make a sound of protest.

"Shh, you can't say it yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I want you to remember the first time you say it." He says, "I want you to mean it."

You’re too tipsy to understand what he means by that so you simply look up at him with your wide heart eyes.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He says, squinting his eyes at you.

You smile at the compliment, it reminds him of sunshine and sugar.

Your head lolls and Mattheo reaches out, like an instinct, to stabilise it.

"Careful." He murmurs, "You're gonna have to keep that head steady there, Pretty Girl."

"Can't." You mumble, eyes fluttering close, "too heavy."

You lean closer him, at least, you try to. You lay all your body weight on him and almost fall before he catches you with one arm wrapped around you and a laugh.

You gaze up at him, doe eyes all glassy, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“You’re really nice to me.”

"Well, you're very lovable, you make it easy." He boops your nose once prompting you to giggle again.

"No, m'serious, you're always playing all tough guy around everyone else but you're very, very nice to me."

“You think so?” He asks, with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me.” You giggle, flirting shamelessly.

Oh, you have no idea.

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls if your name is crossed out, it’s cause tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

[thewizardray]

my dream is to have a man that looks at me like him

oh.. to be loved by mattheo riddle