itβs september which means βcanonicallyβ sweetheart reader and mattheo have been dating for a monthβ¦ hereβs their hard launch!!
masterlist
liked by mattheoriddle, theodorenott and 216 others
sweetheart111 one month with my pretty boy !!! ily ughh how are you real??? i wish i could skinny dip inside your mind @ mattheoriddle
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pansyparkinson leave him for me xx
mattheoriddle i love you
mattheoriddle so fuckingcute
mattheoriddle youβre so sprettyre
pansyparkinson you would think heβs drunk but nooo this is just how is around MY best friend
cedricdiggory PLEASE tell me this is a joke
mattheoriddle youβre a fucking joke.
hermoinegranger aw!! you guys are so cute
lunalovegood i think that the universe crafted you two to find each other
liked by sweetheart111, theodore nott and 232 others
mattheoriddle i love you pretty girl
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sweetheart111 β€οΈβ€οΈβ€οΈ
liked by mattheoriddle
sweetheart111 I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU
liked by mattheoriddle
pansyparkinson okay king trying to be nonchalant i see you
pansyparkinson fym the caption is FIVE words heβd write twenty seven plays about her
pansyparkinson this bitch is so whippedβ¦
pansyparkinson what a fucking loser
theodorenott woah pansy let him live
blaisezabini happy for you man
astoriagreengrass wtf matty youβre not single anymore?
pansyparkinson lol who r u this is so embarrassing
theodorenott since when are your posts so colourful
enzoberkshire since when does he post??
blaisezabini i think we all know when
pansy being both mattheoβs no1 hater & no1 defenderβ¦
summary - dash&lily!au, mattheo and reader communicate through a book, and perhaps its comforting to rant to someone without knowing them?
word count - above 2k
a/n - okay omg, this is literally my first fic ever so don't judge? and I really wanted something like an anonymous romance because I think it fits mattheo. enjoyy
ch2
The Hogwarts library was insanely hugeβeveryone knew that. Its sections seemed to stretch endlessly, shelf after shelf, book after book. And it wasnβt just academic texts; there were novels too, tucked away in those maze-like aisles.
So here he was, Mattheo Riddle, probably the last person youβd expect in front of the literature shelves, fumbling through titles in a half-hearted attempt to find A Farewell to Arms for his Muggle Studies class.
Professor Charity Burbage wouldnβt shut up about the so-called "sappy Muggle romance." For the sake of his grades, he had to find it. After scanning what felt like every spine in the row, he finally spotted it.
βFinally!β
He grabbed the book without hesitation. Staying in the library wasnβt on his agendaβit never was. The place didnβt exactly hold the sweetest memories for him. The silence, so absolute, seemed to lure the worst thoughts to the surface. It was the perfect breeding ground for overthinking, and Mattheo had no patience for that. He much preferred the controlled chaos of the dorms or the common room. Maybe heβd been alone too long. People could be annoying, sure, but they kept the silenceβand his thoughtsβat bay.
Just as he was about to leave, something caught his eye: a bright red book on the same shelf. It wasnβt a novel, not with that unmarked spine and leather cover. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled it out. The journal smelled faintly of Chanelβa stark contrast to the old-book musk around it. Stickers covered the spine, obscuring what mightβve been the ownerβs initials. Lana Del Rey. The Smiths. A tiny βAβ tucked in the corner.
He opened it.
The first page was written in delicate cursive, the kind that practically screamed βperfected over years of writing essays on parchment.β
βDo you dare?β
His first instinct was to chuck the thing out the nearest window and let it flop onto the frozen lake below. This felt eerily close to one of his fatherβs tricks. But then again, when had Voldemort ever cared for indie aesthetics or Muggle music?
Curiosity won. He flipped the page.
βAh, so you do dare. And no, Iβm not trying to lure you into the Chamber to kill you. I just figured if youβre in this aisle, maybe we have something in common.β
βIβve left some clues for you. If you want them, turn the page. If you donβt, put the book back on the shelf, pleaseβthis is kind of my one shot at finding a literary soulmate.β
The handwriting, undeniably feminine, had that neat, practiced vibe. Someone who probably spent way too much time perfecting it in their first year. Definitely not him.
βALSO, if youβre not a teenage boy, Iβd suggest putting it back. And if youβre Madam Pince, Iβm definitely a Gryffindor. ;)β
Mattheo let out a low chuckle. She was funny. Slytherin vibes, or so he thought.
The next page revealed a string of numbers:
β1111111β
Some sort of code?
βSolve it, decipher it, and it might just leadβ¦β
He sighed, already feeling the time heβd need to spend on this. But he was hooked. What better way to pass the time than chasing cryptic clues from a journal that promised not to kill him, right?
Tucking the book under his arm, he headed for the exit, but of course, Madam Pinceβs sharp voice cut through the air like a spell.
βMr. Riddle, you must check that out before stuffing it in your bag and leaving.β
βUh, yeah, of course.β He handed over A Farewell to Arms.
βAnd the other?β
βThatβs mine. Just a journal,β he lied smoothly.
βRight.β
He nodded quickly and slipped out before she could've said more.
As he walked away, a soft voice called out behind him. βYou took the journal?β
He turned, spotting a fifth-yearβa library volunteer, maybe.
βI did. Why?β
The kid shrugged, barely pausing. βSolve the riddles and put it where you get. Sheβll answer.β
βWaitββ
But the kid was already gone.
βWaitββ
But the kid was already gone.
So, it was a girl. Cursive handwriting, fancy perfume, and riddles designed to intrigue. Maybe this wouldnβt be such a waste of time after all.
He made his way back to the dungeons, the familiar stone hallways feeling like they were meant for him, even if he wasnβt sure what βhomeβ really meant anymore.
He reached the dorm, the one that was always a bit of a mess, the one he shared with Theodore and Lorenzo. The air had that funny, almost burnt toast scent to it that Mattheo had gotten used to. It wasnβt perfect, but it was his.
But his mind wasnβt on the dorm or the mess. It was on the journal. It had been... interesting. Why would Mattheo Riddle, of all people, take the time to talk to someone who had no idea who he was? Maybe thatβs exactly whyβsomeone who wouldnβt judge him for the name or the bloodline.
βOi, Enzo, give me a hand with something?β
βGod, Matt, do you ever think maybe I have my own stuff to do? Maybe Enzo has plans, yβknow?β
βShut up and help. I totally covered for you with Greengrass about your stupid book, remember?β
βFuck you.β
βYeah, yeah, come on.β
Lorenzo flopped down next to him on the couch, eyeing the journal in Mattheoβs hand.
βSo, let me get this straight. Youβre talking to a girlβwho could very well not be a girlβand you want me to solve the riddles and help you, because youβre actually interested? AND, you're intrigued by one line? the one line she wrote-?β
Mattheo rolled his eyes. βYeah, but itβs a good line.β
Lorenzo gave him a skeptical look. βA good line? She could be some weird third-year with a collection of creepy journals. Iβm just saying, donβt get too attached.β
βRelax, Iβm not getting attached,β Mattheo said, but the words felt hollow even to him.
Lorenzo snatched the journal from his hand, flipping through the pages. βYouβre telling me youβre not intrigued by this?β He raised an eyebrow. βI mean, βDo you dare?β Thatβs some serious mysterious girl energy.β
Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo scanned the riddles, his lips curving into a smirk. βJust help me solve it, alright?β
Lorenzo paused, glancing over at Mattheo. βFine. But donβt blame me when this turns into some weird obsession.β
βAlright, mystery guy, string the letters together and letβs see where we end up.β
Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo eyed the list of riddles. He was already beginning to look like he was about to fall asleep.
βOkay, Enzo, do them for me,β Mattheo said, tapping the page impatiently.
Lorenzo groaned but took the journal from him, reading the first riddle aloud.
βThereβs a light that never fades,
Shining bright even through melancholy haze.
Name the song that calls out for comfort and trust,
Itβs about heaven, but grounded in the just.β
Lorenzo paused, scratching his chin. βOkay, thatβs definitely an old one, maybe like Lana? Considering the stickers?β
Something seemed to have clicked for mattheo, βNo, no, no The smiths! SHE LIKES THE SMITHS, ENZO- oh my god, thereβs a light that never goes out, thats it!β
Lorenzo kept going, flipping to the next one, sighing at Mattheo. "Once again, same music taste does not equal soulmate- god, do you ever learn?"
Mattheo rolled his eyes, "Alright, shut up, go on"
βIf sweets are your craving, step through my door,
From Chocolate Frogs to Fizzing Whizbees galore.
In Hogsmeadeβs heart, where sugar dreams thrive,
Name the shop where treats come alive.β
βHonestly, thatβs a no-brainer. Itβs Honeydukes,β Lorenzo said without hesitation.
βRight, right. Youβre on fire,β Mattheo teased, as Lorenzo moved on to the next.
"Iβm often served up cold or hot,
A liquid refreshment, I hit the spot.
I come in flavours, both sweet and bold,
What am I? Guess me, Iβm quite old."
Lorenzo grinned. βCoffee? Like, uh, lets say expresso? β
Mattheo rolled his eyes. βOf course youβd get that one first try.β
Lorenzo continued to read, now with a slight smirk.
βAn ode to a woman with a celestial name,
Her vibe is electric, not one you can tame.
From the album that rocked the world wide,
Name the track.β
Lorenzo stared at the riddle for a moment, clearly deep in thought. His lips curled slightly, as if trying to put the pieces together.
Mattheo watched, his mind already racing through possibilities. "Come on, Enzo. Itβs not that hard."
Lorenzo looked up, clearly struggling to connect the dots. "I dunno, man. Celestial name... electric vibe... Itβs throwing me off."
Mattheoβs eyes widened. βWait... Arabella,β he said suddenly, catching the reference. βItβs got to be βArabellaβ by Arctic Monkeys.β
Lorenzo blinked, then nodded slowly. βOh, yeah. That makes sense. Good catch, Riddle.β
Mattheo grinned, feeling a little bit smug. βI know my stuff.β
Lorenzo looked at the riddle like Mattheo was crazy.
βIβm a serpent, sleek and sly,
With emerald scales and cunning eye.
In the house where ambition reigns,
Whatβs my symbol? Speak my name.β
βMatt, come on. The locket, duh.β
βOh, right,β Mattheo muttered, tapping his fingers on the journal.
Lorenzo barely hesitated before moving on to the next riddle.
βIβm the one who guards the goalposts tight,
Stopping the quaffle with all my might.
I block and deflect, keeping the score lowβ
Whatβs my position? Now, let me know!β
βKeeper,β Lorenzo answered with a smirk, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
βShouldβve known,β Mattheo grumbled, half to himself.
Lorenzo moved on, flipping to the final riddle.
βIβm a potion that makes truth come clear,
In Hogsmeade, Iβm sold with no fear.
A drop or two, and secrets unfold,
Whatβs my name? Itβs liquid gold.β
Lorenzo grinned. βVeritaserum. Honestly, these riddles are too easy.β
Mattheo rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. βYou really think youβve got this figured out, huh?β
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. βWell, if Iβm solving all the riddles, maybe I should be the one old-timey flirting with her through a book. What do you think?β
Mattheoβs eyes widened in mock horror. βWhat? Absolutely not. I found the book. Plus, you think she could be a possible psychopathβwhat about that, huh?β
Lorenzo shrugged, unfazed. βEh, itβs a possibility. But if sheβs that crazy, at least itβll be entertaining.β
Mattheo shook his head, but couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips. "Not happening."
βAnyway, let me put it together. It says βstring the first together,ββ Lorenzo said, already scribbling down the letters.
Mattheo watched, tapping his foot in rhythm. βUh, T, H, E, A, L, K, Vβ¦β
Lorenzo stared at the letters for a moment before glancing up. βAlright, soβ¦ βTHE ALCOVE.ββ He shrugged. βSounds like the one by the lake.β
Mattheo raised an eyebrow. βOh, like our Alcove, Alcove?β
Lorenzo gave another shrug. βCould be. Or maybe something else. Who knows? Itβs just a game, Matt.β
βYeah, yeah,β Mattheo said, leaning back with a grin. βIβll go check it out.β
Lorenzo chuckled, tossing the journal back at Mattheo. βRight, because youβre definitely not getting invested. Go ahead, find the weirdo.β
Mattheo smirked, flipping through the journal and eyeing the letters. βIβll figure it out. But, uh, if sheβs leaving clues like this, sheβs got a decent sense of humor.β
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. βYeah, sure. Just donβt get too carried away with it, alright? Since itβs just a game.β
Mattheo sighed and plopped down onto the stone steps, resting the journal beside him. He leaned back, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the alcove, still trying to make sense of the place. The stillness of the moment almost felt like an invitation to relax, but he couldnβt shake the feeling that there was more to this. There had to be.
He scanned the surrounding area, eyes tracing the worn edges of the stone, the lake shimmering faintly through the trees. And thenβthere it was.
That familiar "a".
On one of the tiles, nearly hidden beneath the edge of the stone step, was a small sticker of the letter βaββit wasnβt much, but Mattheo immediately recognized it. The same letter from the journal. The same one that had popped up in the corner of the pages, taunting him with its mystery.
Mattheoβs heart picked up pace, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Now we're getting somewhere. He bent down, carefully peeling the sticker off the tile, wondering what kind of clue this could lead to.
Whatever it was, he was definitely invested now.
Mattheo stared at the sticker for a second, waiting for something to happen, but when nothing did, he was about to brush it off. Then, in a blink, the sticker seemed to melt away, its glossy edges rippling like the surface of the lake on a windy day. Before he could process it, the sticker was gone, replaced by a folded note.
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Hogwarts magic, never a dull moment.
He unfolded the note, the handwriting neat and familiar:
"Leave the journal, I'll answer."
The next day, Mattheo found himself walking past the alcove again. The events from the night before still lingered in his mind, but he'd almost convinced himself it had all been some weird fluke, or maybe just a one-off game.
He hadn't returned to the alcove since heβd left the journal there, figuring heβd check back in a day or so. But as he passed by, he couldnβt resist stopping. The place seemed quieter now, the magic of the night before no longer lingering in the air.
But when he got to the spot, he was surprised to see that the journal was still there. Nothing else had changed. Mattheo stared at it for a moment, debating whether to just walk away, but somethingβcuriosity, maybeβkept him rooted to the spot.
He bent down, picking up the journal and flipping through it.Β
"Aha, u so could be kinda smart huh? I canβt believe someoneβs actually answered, that journal was probably there for a year? And good job with the riddles, I guess? Iβm surprised you got the Smiths and Arctic Monkeys one, maybe u have a similar taste Mystery Boy. Your chance now, you give me the dare and Iβll follow through."
- A,
xx
Mattheo leaned back against the wall, grinning to himself. So, she was serious about this. A dare, huh? This could get interesting.
He quickly scribbled in his response, his hand steady as he wrote. "Alright, mystery girl, you asked for it."
omggg, I actually wrote this? I'm very happy about it, and i'd love if people interact w it, also ty @sunkissedscribbles for helping since my first draft looked like a seven year old wrote it π
also yes, this will be a series and I'm very open to suggestions and any improvements.
(I should probably make a taglist?)
- rey
β€οΈsummary: elite auror, criminal psychologist and genius witch, you are assigned to the joker's case to get up close and personal with him, to understand him and how he operates. but as boundary lines begin to blur so does your perception of reality as you forget exactly what made him so dangerous to begin with.
β£οΈwarnings: mattheo is extremely toxic and highly manipulative. violence, guns, etc.
β¦οΈword count: 3.9k
β οΈsoundtrack: gangsta - kehlani
a/n: inspired by batman's the joker and his baddie queen harley quinn's origin story. parts of dialogue towards the end are taken directly from the movie suicide squad and are not my own. many thanks to @acourtofchaos for the festival of aus inspiration! this was soooo much fun!
the joker!mattheo who rose to power once his father died, gripping the wizarding world and muggle world alike with a fear unlike any voldemort had inspired. with a sick sense of humor and a warped understanding of right and wrong, he created chaos just to watch the world burn. until he pushed too far. and landed himself in azkaban's asylum. where he met you. elite auror, and criminal psychologist, assigned to the joker to get close, to get personal, to get in his psyche and to understand how he operated.
the joker!mattheo who, despite the pictures you'd already seen in his case file, looked very different than you'd expected; everyone in the asylum looked like skin and bones, but while he was thin in his face, he was fit and muscular everywhere else. he was covered in tattoos that peered out from his cuffed sleeves, down his wrist, on his fingers and from the unbuttoned top of his prison uniform where you could see a laughing skull and the words HA HA HA scribbled in jagged script up his neck.
the joker!mattheo who leaned forward slowly when you walked in the room, the chains around his wrists and ankles clanging as they dragged across the floor. he cocked his head slowly to the side and his eyes widened as they took you in, never leaving you as they tracked your every move, unblinking.
"docctoorrrr" he purred by way of greeting, an acknowledgement that he already knew who you were despite the visit being unplanned and unannounced by design.
"hi mattheo, may i call you that?" you replied curtly, professionally.
"you can call me whatever you want to, doc."
"i'd like to get to know you" you said, sticking to your script.
a pause.
"i'd like to get to know you too" he replied, smiling widely.
you smiled back, happy to have established a connection with him, a mutual understanding.
but what you didn't know is that you were already utterly and totally fucked.
because the joker!mattheo had spent the last five years in the madhouse of the asylum, feeding his own delusions and fantasies about his return to power, and when he saw how pure, how kind and how sweet you were?
he couldn't wait to destroy you.
the joker!mattheo bided his time.
he answered all of your little questions about him and his father and he painted a picture for you of an awful childhood, of a detached father and an absent mother, of his first memory being the dark mark burning on his skin as a toddler, a tattoo he'd long since inked over.
and despite all of your professional training, you couldn't help but be overcome with emotion at the idea of him as a baby, crying and crying and holding his arm with no one to help him.
your hand wobbled in your notetaking and you let out a calming breath as you swiped quickly at your eye.
"shhhh, shhhhh" he cooed. "don't cry for me, sweetheart. it's the hand i was dealt, that's all it is. we're part of a mad shuffle by a master dealer. and this was the card i.... got!!!" he said excitedly, as a lone playing card appeared between his fingers, the joker.
that had the guards in the corner of the room jumping to attention and pointing guns at him because his magic was supposed to be restrained by his handcuffs. he laughed and laughed at their reaction but you stood and threw an arm in front of him protectively.
"stand down!!" you shouted at them.
and that's when he knew he had his hooks in you.
the joker!mattheo started to take things further after that. the next session he leaned in close to you and whispered in a way that had you leaning across the table to hear him.
"i won't hurt you. you know that, right?β he asked with an air of sincerity. βi wouldn't hurt you darlin'... i can't, anyway" he joked, wiggling his cramped fingers in his chains. "so let's lose the guards, hmmm? give them a little break?"
you looked around.
most of the time you forgot the guards were even there, but you realized mattheo might be more forthcoming if it were just the two of you and you nodded.
too fucking easy he thought.
the guards left and he smiled and sat back in his chair, his legs spread, lounging comfortably as he threw his head back.
"ahhhhh!" he sighed dramatically. "i like it better just the two of us, doc"
you smiled and tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.
"we're friends, right? i feel like we're friends. am i your friend?" he asked.
you nodded, "of course, mattheo."
"could you do something for me? i've got a craving. something i haven't had in five looonnng years."
your breath hitched and you looked up to meet his gaze as he stared at you unflinchingly under lidded eyes and ran his thumb over his lips.
"i can't tell you how bad i want it, it's alllll i think about. day and night. in my dreams, in my nightmares, and especially when we're together."
you were flushed now under your jacket and could feel the heat on your cheeks as your breaths came fast and shallow.
"chocolate."
"mmm, what i wouldn't give for a taasstee" he teased as his tongue rolled over his bottom lip.
"s-sure, i'll, i'll see what i can do" you said, unable to reason with or comprehend your physical reaction and the overwhelming disappointment you felt at not being the object of his desire.
that was how the joker!mattheo started brainwashing you.
first, by stealing your sympathy, then by teasing you relentlessly day in and day out with innuendos and comments that never amounted to anything and left you feeling genuinely ... c r a z y. because surely he wasn't attracted to you and surely you weren't attracted to him... right?
it was simple and easy at first, chocolate here, candy there, but then it was a note for you to pass to a fellow prisoner, a switchblade, a knife. and your mottled mind began to justify every action without realizing just how much he was whittling away at you.
but he didn't stop there.
because it wasn't enough for you to be confused, to feel crazy. the joker!mattheo needed you to be obsessed.
one day you were late. and you seemed distracted, disorganized. but most importantly you weren't focused on him. and he didn't like that. no. he didn't like that one bit.
he cocked his head at you, analyzing you.
"you seem... upset, doc"
"it's nothing" you said, shaking your head quickly, trying to shrug it off.
"what, so i tell you all of my baggage and get nothing in return?" he replied, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "that's not what friends do. friends tell each other everything" he sneered.
and it was like the temperature in the room dropped. he was angry, you realized as you looked up at him in fear.
"i-it's my boyfriend" you admitted shakily, closing your eyes and shaking your head. "he's mad at me, angry at how much time i've spent working, how often i'm here."
"that's not very nice of him, is it?" mattheo's expression warmed, and dropped into a sympathetic frown as he leaned in. "a smart girl like you...he should be so lucky! that's not the way to treat a lady. tsk tsk tsk. how long have you been with this guy?"
"a couple of years..."
"not nice. not nice at all. you tell him to be nice to you. you tell him i said so. you know what a nice boy would do? he would take you out to dinner, he would buy you nice things, nice jewelry, yeah? he'd buy you flowers, lots and lots of flowers, doc. that way you'd know he was always always thinking about you."
"that would be nice" you admitted, laughing humorlessly before changing the subject.
the next morning as you were getting ready you heard a knock on your door. you opened it to find a large bouquet of red roses on your doorstep. you stooped down to pick it up and searched for a note only to realize there was a card on the ground.
the joker from a deck of playing cards.
your heart skipped a beat as you looked up and down the empty hallway.
later that day, you thanked him, hoping he would reveal more about his feelings towards you.
"thank you for the flowers, mattheo" you hinted.
he stared at his fingernails, ignoring you.
"like i said, it's what any self-respecting gentleman would do."
so the joker!mattheo toyed with your mind. and then he toyed with your heart, praising you, showering you with affection and then ignoring you, dismissing you, all the while continually making you feel insecure about yourself, about your boyfriend.
βare you getting enough sleep, doc? you donβt look so good today.β
"your boyfriend didn't call you yesterday? are you sure he's not seeing someone else? you've been gone a long time, you know, because you're always here with me."
βi know guys like him. they seem nice at firstβ¦ but eventually they get bored and start looking for something better.β
until it reached it's breaking point.
"hey, how's bobby, brian, what's-his-name?" he asked you one day.
you were quiet as you shuffled your papers around and swallowed, trying to hold back your tears.
"we broke up" you whispered hoarsely without looking at him, trying to prepare yourself for whatever version of him you'd get in response, cold and indifferent? aloof and passive?
"oh. i'm so sorry" he said, his face crestfallen.
he moved his chained hand forward to reach for you before he was restrained. and that was the first time he'd ever tried to touch you. he uncurled his tattooed fist and extended it to you.
your eyes shot to his, completely unprepared for his genuine, caring response. and gods you wanted to take his hand, desperate for an ounce of comfort, for his touch, to know what it felt like.
you moved slowly and placed your hand in his. you were shocked to find it warm and inviting as he squeezed your hand gently, and then all too quickly let it go.
"i'd give you a hug but," he started to laugh loudly, "that's not going to happen is it?!" he said, shaking his chained hands. "no, it's not."
your heart was still rushing from his touch and now it dipped with disappointment.
"but, i would, you know?" he whispered conspiratorially to you. "if i got out of these chains, i would hug you, baby. i'd make it all better... maybe...maybe you could talk to them about that? i bet they'd give you a key."
the affectionate nickname and the lingering feeling of his fingers on yours had you in a complete trance as you smiled woozily at him. "yeah... maybe i could."
and you did.
if someone had asked you, you would have vehemently denied it, but he saw it written all over you, the way you fluttered your pretty eyes at him, the way you always said yes to everything he asked of you, the way you bit your perfect lip subtly when you watched him talk, you stank of it: you were falling for him.
the joker!mattheo was so close to getting everything he wanted.
sometimes when he fantasized about breaking out of the bottomless pit of this hell heβd think briefly that he'd miss toying with you.
once, he'd even had a dream about you, on the outside, beside him in his club, in a barely-there emerald dress that left nothing to the imagination, the desire of every man in the city, as you hung on his arm and whispered in his ear, his name tattooed in black ink on your collarbone.
he woke up to the prisoner in the next cell screaming.
and he never had that dream again.
the next day you were in a focused line of questioning with him, pressing him on previously unknown details of the battle of hogwarts when mid-sentence he interrupted you, something he'd never done before.
"βyou ever let that hair down, doc?"
"w-what?"
"you're real pretty, you know. you should let that hair down, i bet it's long, i bet it's nice."
you swallowed, basking in his compliment after weeks of feeling isolated, sad and alone from your break-up and his mind games.
"i appreciate that.β
"just stating facts" he said dismissively. "now what were you saying?"
as you got ready the next morning, you went to pull your hair out of your face and stopped, staring at yourself in the mirror without really recognizing the girl staring back at you.
you let your hair down, teased it out, and added a swipe of mascara and a touch of lipstick.
when he saw you mattheo smiled slowly, then widely, like the grin would take up the entire lower half of his face.
"wowza, doc! you have a date tonight that i don't know about?"
"n-no, iβ" your eyes flitted to his nervously. i did this for you you thought, knowing full well that saying that out loud was a sin you could never come back from. "i just thought i'd try something different."
"ahhh" he said in acknowledgement as he nodded, like he didn't know exactly what was going on.
the joker!mattheo had you right where he wanted you, and he knew it was time for his final play, the one that would seal the deal and make you irrevocably his to do with what he pleased.
"i need a wand" he said at the end of your next session as you were gathering your notes.
your movements halted and you looked up at him.
"what for, mattheo?"
he pursed his lips and looked around with a pout.
"let's put it this way, darlin', it's not to conjure daisies."
you smiled despite yourself at his dark humor.
"i-i don't know if that's such a good idea" you admitted hesitantly.
he leaned forward as far as he could. little by little you had relaxed his restraints and now he was comfortably in your airspace before he was held back.
"we can't stay here forever, baby" he said quietly. "but we can go, if you help me. if you help me, i'll take you with me."
go?
you didn't want him to go. you wanted him here, with you, just for you. he had become the center of your universe, your obsession. but going with him... being with him? that sounded... amazing.
"youβll take me... with you?" you confirmed, your mind hazy with adoration.
"would you like that?" he asked.
your lips parted but all you could do was stare at him, searching for any sign of a joke.
he strained further.
"c'mere" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes boring into yours.
you leaned across the table, meeting him halfway and he brushed his lips against yours, teasing and tender, dipping deeply for just a breath, his tongue barely brushing yours and then he pulled away, just out of reach and you sighed in protest.
he'd given you just enough to leave you wanting so, so, so much more.
you fumbled for the key in your pocket, reaching over to unlock his hands and he tugged you roughly around the table to sit on his lap.
the you that you always were, had always been was gone.
you didn't know who you were anymore, only that you were his, that you would do anything you needed to to stay right here, in his strong lap with his hands running up your sides until they came to cup your face.
you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, desperate for his touch, desperate for his taste, like cherries and cigarettes.
"stop" he demanded, grasping you roughly.
and you did, startled at his tone and the way he was squeezing you hard enough to leave a bruise.
"question" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, "would you die for me?"
"yes" you said, sincerely, without hesitation.
"that's too easy" he replied, looking away, brow furrowed in thought. "would you live for me?"
"yesβ" you said just as quickly.
"βcareful" he cut you off, holding a finger over your lips to silence you before lowering his voice, pulling you close enough to feel his warm breath on your mouth. "do not say this oath thoughtlessly. desire becomes surrender, and surrender becomes power" he whispered before running a finger teasingly over your bottom lip.
"you want this?" he asked finally.
"i do" you pleaded earnestly, begging for him to kiss you.
"say it" he said sharply. "say it, say it, say it, pretty pretty pretty pretty..?"
"please" you whimpered.
"goodddds, you're so.... good" he said, the sentiment something between an insult and a compliment.
and then he kissed you.
he kissed you until you forgot everything that wasn't him, him, him. he tangled his tongue with yours and moaned into your mouth. he kissed you deeply, affectionately, roughly, overtaking you, possessing you as he ran his fingers into your hair and murmured against your lips.
"beautiful, so beautiful baby."
"mine, mine, mine!"
a week later you arrived to the asylum in a tight fitted outfit, your hair loose over your shoulders, your lips crimson red with an extra wand tucked into your boot.
and when you opened his cell he smiled at you with that grin that took up his entire face.
"doctooorrr" he cooed.
you smiled back.
a moment later the wall behind him blew open and you moved quickly to unlock his restraints, setting him completely free for the first time in years.
he stood in front of you and you moved to step into his arms but he simply held out his hand, asking for the wand.
you untucked it from your boot and he took it wordlessly before turning his back on you and walking away.
"w-wait, i'm coming with you! t-together, right?" you scurried after him over the rubble in the room.
"it's been nice knowin' ya, darlin', but you're staying here" he said without even a glance back at you.
"n-no! you're not leaving me!β you shouted, your voice oozing with desperation as it rose in panic. βi have done everything you said, every test, every trial, every initiation i've proved that i love you, just accept it!"
his footsteps slowed at that and he turned around, looking at you like you were crazy, delusional, which you felt in every fiber of your being, in every bone.
he narrowed his eyes.
"we spent every day together for six months, and you still can't get it into that pretty little head" he said, pointing his fingers like a gun at his own temple.
"i'm not someone who is loved. i'm an idea, a state of mind. i execute my will according to my plan. and you, doctor? are not part of my plan."
then he stepped into the night and disappeared.
and just like that the joker!mattheo got everything he'd wanted.
he got his power, his money, his freedom and fortune, his guns and his chaos.
more booze than he could drink.
more girls than he could ever want.
and it was delightful, it was delicious.
for a time.
but something was bothering him. annoying him. an itch. a prickle that drove him mad.
and as for you?
the joker!mattheo had destroyed you.
shattered you.
mentally, physically, emotionally.
you didn't talk, you didn't sleep, you didn't eat. you isolated yourself and you tortured yourself with dreams and fantasies of the two of you together.
for a while you thought you'd imagined the whole thing, imagined the intimacies you shared, imagined his lips, his taste, imagined the way his hands had squeezed you as you looked into his eyes and begged for his affection.
eventually you joined the task force assigned to catch him. and you pursued him, relentlessly, desperately, to no avail.
ironically, you were awarded for your efforts to attempt to capture the very man you released. and now you climbed the steps of city hall for the minister's ball in heels and an emerald dress to be acknowledged for your service.
city hall was filled with every major politician and diplomat in the wizarding world and muggle world alike and you sat amongst your colleagues, a shell of yourself on the inside despite how beautiful you looked on the outside as someone clinked a glass and the minister stepped up to the podium to a round of applause.
"thank you, thank you!" he acknowledged, smiling and waving. "good eveningβ"
the room went dark.
several people gasped and hushed whispers broke out.
and through the murmurs, the sound of maniacal laughter echoed in the large space, shrill and pitched. "HA! HA! HA!" and someone unloaded a machine gun into the ceiling, shattering the chandelier and raining glass on attendees as they screamed and ducked for cover.
you were frozen to your seat, your heart slamming in your chest.
a spotlight lit the stage. and there stood the joker!mattheo, dressed in a tuxedo, a machine gun in his hands.
"GOOD EVENING gentlemen" he said, commanding everyone's attention as he stepped off the stage and into the crowd. "and laddddieeesss" he cooed, leaning into at a woman nearby who pulled away and screamed.
more people began to run, to try to flee and he let off another round of machine gun fire into the ceiling.
"STOP!" he shouted angrily, making you jump.
and they did.
the power in his voice didn't leave room for debate, nor did his henchmen that had now lined the walls in various masks, of clowns, of jokers, holding automatic weapons of their own.
"this will only take a moment of your time!" he reassured the crowd as he smiled and leapt onto the nearest table and began kicking drinks and food in every direction while he laughed in glee and enjoyment.
"you see, you have something. something i want. something i... neeeeed" he purred.
he stopped and looked around the room, chest heaving with exertion, eyes sweeping the grand hall.
until they landed on you.
and he smirked.
he leapt off the table playfully and marched in your direction as people cowered away from him.
you were shaking hard, your breaths coming in raggedly as you stood to face him. you realized that he was probably here to kill you; you knew more about him than perhaps anyone else and you were the last loose thread in his escape plan.
he marched right up to you, his eyes cold and calculating and he gripped your chin roughly with his hand, nearly knocking you over with his force as he yanked you towards him. you grasped at his arm for purchase.
he squeezed, hard, and you whimpered as his rings pressed into your skin uncomfortably.
but you didn't break your eye contact even as your eyes rimmed with tears.
he snarled at you. you could tell he was angry, but another emotion ran beneath his anger. frustration? no. something else that you hadn't seen before.
his eyes narrowed and then flitted to your lips.
oh.
and then he kissed you, hard, sloppily, biting at your bottom lip in a way that was painful and yet so satisfying.
people around you gasped loudly.
you grasped for him, clawing to be in his arms and he relented, letting you go only to pull you into his chest as his lips possessed you and he kissed you languidly.
and then he pulled away, holding you to his chest as his other hand pointed the machine gun at your friends, at your coworkers and he began backpeddaling, pulling you along with him as he swung the gun towards anyone that dared make a move as he muttered into your ear, under his breath.
a boy born from engine smoke and abandonment, with storm-grey eyes that have seen too much and still stayed soft. he walks like the world disappointed him young, and heβs been quietly punishing it ever since. he doesnβt speak unless he has toβbut when he does, itβs with the weight of a thousand unsaid things. heβs the kind of boy who fixes broken things and never believes he deserves to be whole. a ghost in a leather jacket, raised on silence and gasoline. he smells like rebellion and feels like a warning. he doesnβt believe in happy endings, but he still slows down when you laughβjust to hear it again. heβs not your hero. he never was. but god, youβll remember him like a scar you earned.
a new oc with emotional depth and a heart-wrenching background that left him scarred for lifeβdivorced parents, an emotionally checked-out mother and a father not present in his life anymore. his name is ironic; dante, that speaks of a once-sophisticated pair of parents and solace, that he never got. not until he met the rebellious daughter of the policeman who'd caught eosβdante's street artist nameβseveral times for speeding and graffiti before.
hi lovies !
so, this is a dash&lily!au kinda series, mattheo and reader meet and communicate anonymously, and it obviously gets to a little more than just dares, feelings perhaps.
here's all the ch's that i've posted so far linked together , ty !
summary - dash&lily!au, mattheo and reader communicate through a book. this chapter is they get just a little bit closer.
word count - above 2k
a/n - a bit more than just dares this ch, sorryyyy for the wait omg
The library was quieter than usual, with the soft scratch of quills and the distant rustle of pages filling the air. You glanced over your shoulder, making sure Madame Pince wasnβt lurking around a corner. The journal was tucked under your arm, the edges slightly bent from how often it had been passed between you and βMystery Guyβ.
You slid into the Literature section, your feet making no sound on the old wooden floor, and crouched down to the spot where βA Farewell to Armsβ used to sit. Your fingers brushed the spine of the journal as you placed it in its hiding place.
βInteresting book youβve got there,β a voice drawled behind you, startling you so badly you nearly knocked over an entire row of books.
You turned sharply, clutching the journal to your chest, and came face to face with Lorenzo Berkshire.
βOh, donβt stop on my account,β he grinned, leaning lazily against the bookshelf. His curly brown hair was as messy as ever, and there was a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. βGo on. Tuck it back into its little hiding spot.β
Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no words came out.
βDonβt look so guilty,β another voice chimed in, and now Theodore Nott rounded the corner, his hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face. βWeβre not going to snitch. Just curious.β
You straightened up, narrowing your eyes. βCurious about what?β
Enzo gestured toward the journal still clutched in your hands. βAbout the fact that youβre Mattheoβs penpal.β
Your heart nearly stopped. βIβm what?β
βOh, come on.β Theo smirked. βWeβve seen that thing before. Mattheo thinks heβs sneaky, but heβs not that sneaky.β
βAnd youβre here, putting it in the exact spot heβs been disappearing to for weeks,β Enzo added, tilting his head. βNot a hard puzzle to put together.β
Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You werenβt sure what was worseβthe fact that youβd been caught, or the fact that theyβd just casually told you who Mystery Guy was like it wasnβt a massive bombshell.
βIβuhββ
Enzo cut you off with a wicked grin. βRelax, itβs cute. The way youβve got him running around doing all your dares? Hilarious. Youβve got no idea how grumpy he gets when you out-dare him. Itβs practically a sport now.β
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. βHeβs not that grumpy,β you muttered defensively.
βOh, trust me, he is,β Theo said dryly. βBut he loves it. Never seen him so invested in anything that didnβt involve pissing off Snape or sneaking Firewhiskey into the dorms.β
You swallowed hard, trying to process. They were just standing there, talking about him like it was normal, while you were spiraling at the revelation. Mattheo Riddle. Mystery Guy was Mattheo Riddle. Mattheo Riddle. Mattheo Riddle.
And now you knew.
Β βIβve got to go,β you said quickly, shoving the journal back into its spot and brushing past them before they could say anything else.
By the time you got back to your dorm, your heart was still racing. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the blank page of your notebook. What were you supposed to say to him now?
After what felt like an eternity, you finally picked up your quill.
To Mystery Guy (or should i say Mattheo?),
So, funny thing happened. I mightβve run into a couple of your friends. They were nice enough to tell me who you are. (Donβt freak outβyour secretβs safe with me. For now.)
Let me just say, youβreβ¦ not what I expected. But maybe thatβs a good thing. Youβre kind of an enigma, and I think I like it that way.
Yours,
The Penpal Who Knows Too Much
Satisfied, you tucked the letter into the journal the next morning, placing it in its usual spot. And as you walked away, you couldnβt help but smile.
Mattheo leaned back in his chair, one boot propped on the edge of the Slytherin common room table. His wand twirled lazily between his fingers, but his sharp gaze flicked toward Lorenzo and Theo as they strolled in, their expressions a little too smug for his liking.
βWhatβs with the looks?β he asked, raising a brow.
βOh, nothing,β Enzo said, plopping down on the couch across from him with a theatrical sigh.
βDefinitely nothing,β Theo added, his lips twitching as he sat beside Enzo.
Mattheoβs eyes narrowed. βYouβre lying. You both look like youβve got something to say, so just spit it out.β
Enzo exchanged a glance with Theo, his grin widening. βWell, since youβre so curiousβ¦ we saw her.β
Mattheoβs wand stilled mid-spin. βHer who?β
Theo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. βYou know who.β
βI really donβt,β Mattheo said flatly, though his stomach flipped. He kept his expression neutral, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.
βYour penpal,β Enzo said, dragging out the word like it was some kind of joke.
Mattheo sat up straighter, his casual demeanor slipping. βWhat are you talking about?β
βOh, come on,β Enzo said, waving a hand. βDonβt act like youβre not dying to know who she is. We saw her in the library yesterday.β
Mattheoβs heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to scoff. βYeah, sure. And Iβm supposed to believe you just happened to run into her?β
βWe didnβt just run into her,β Theo said, smirking. βWe watched her put your precious little journal back in its spot.β
Mattheoβs jaw tightened. βYou watched her?β
βRelax, mate,β Enzo said, holding up his hands. βIt wasnβt creepy. We were justβ¦ observing.β
Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping. βWhat does she look like?β
Enzo grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. βWhy? Getting jealous already?β
Mattheo glared at him. βAnswer the question.β
βSheβsβ¦ cute,β Theo said with a shrug, his tone deliberately nonchalant.
βMore than cute,β Enzo added with a wicked grin. βYouβve got good taste, Riddle.β
Mattheoβs grip on his wand tightened. He tried to ignore the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest. βThatβs not what I asked.β
βOh, come on,β Enzo said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. βWeβre just saying. She lookedβ¦ surprised, though. Probably didnβt expect us to figure it out.β
Mattheoβs mind raced. If theyβd seen her, that meant she now knew theyβd made the connection. Did she know that he didnβt know who she was?
βDid you talk to her?β he asked, his voice quieter now.
Enzoβs grin turned devious. βA little. Not much. But enough to see why youβre so into this whole letter thing.β
Mattheo clenched his jaw. βIβm not βintoβ it.β
βOh, really?β Theo drawled, raising a brow. βThen why do you get all moody whenever she takes too long to write back?β
βShut up,β Mattheo snapped, but his tone lacked heat.
βAdmit it,β Enzo said, leaning forward. βYou like her. And now that weβve seen her, we get it.β
Mattheo didnβt respond, his thoughts too tangled. All he could think about was the fact that theyβd seen herβthat they knew who she was, and he didnβt.
For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle hated being in the dark.
Later that evening, Mattheo sat alone in his dorm, staring at the journal in his hands. The last note sheβd written replayed in his mind, her teasing tone now carrying a weight he hadnβt noticed before.
βFunny thing happened. I mightβve run into a couple of your friends. They were nice enough to tell me who you are.β
She knew. And she wasnβt going to tell him.
Mattheoβs lips twitched, half a grin and half a grimace. βAlright, mystery girl,β he muttered. βYou win this round.β
The next day, Mattheo couldnβt focus on anything. Potions class, which usually held his attention (mainly because he could annoy Snape just enough to avoid detention), passed in a blur. His mind was stuck on herβon who she was.
And on the fact that Enzo and Theo were being maddeningly smug about it.
βMate, youβre going to chop your own finger off if you keep cutting like that,β Theo muttered under his breath as he passed Mattheoβs table, dropping a few flobberworms into his cauldron.
Mattheo blinked down at the violently uneven roots heβd been dicing. βItβs fine.β
βItβs not fine,β Enzo chimed in from his station, grinning like the absolute menace he was. βBut hey, if youβre distracted, we all know why.β
βEnzo,β Mattheo said in a low warning tone.
βWhat? I didnβt say anything!β Enzo raised his hands in mock innocence, but his smirk stayed firmly in place.
Snapeβs voice sliced through the air. βRiddle, Berkshireβperhaps youβd like to share whatβs so amusing with the rest of the class?β
βNo, sir,β Mattheo and Enzo said in unison, though Enzoβs grin widened, and Mattheo felt the urge to smack him.
Snapeβs glare lingered on them for a beat longer before he turned back to his lecture. Mattheo shot Enzo a warning glance, but Enzo only winked at him.
By the time the class ended, Mattheo was wound tight with irritation and curiosity. As the students began packing up their things, he grabbed Enzo by the sleeve, dragging him into a quieter corner of the dungeon hallway. Theo followed, clearly eager to see how this would unfold.
βAlright, you two,β Mattheo said, his voice low and sharp. βIβm done playing games. Who is she?β
βWhoβs who?β Enzo asked, though his grin gave him away.
βYou know who,β Mattheo snapped. βDonβt make me hex you.β
Theo leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. βYou know, this is really entertaining for us. You, all worked up over a girl? Never thought Iβd see the day.β
Mattheo glared at him. βIβm serious.β
Enzo sighed dramatically, like he was being forced to give up some great secret. βLook, Riddle, I could tell you who she is, butβ¦ whereβs the fun in that?β
βEnzo,β Mattheo growled.
βRelax,β Enzo said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. βYouβll figure it out. Or, who knows? Maybe sheβll tell you herselfβif you donβt scare her off first with all this brooding.β
βIβm not brooding,β Mattheo muttered, shoving Enzoβs hand off his shoulder.
βSure youβre not,β Theo said with a smirk.
Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. βI hate both of you.β
βNo, you donβt,β Enzo said cheerfully, slinging an arm around Theo as they started walking down the corridor. βBesides, you should be thanking us. If it werenβt for us, youβd still be writing to your mystery girl without a clue sheβs real.β
Mattheo stayed rooted in place, watching them go, his jaw clenched. He hated how smug they were. Hated how much they seemed to know.
But more than anything, he hated the fact that they were right.
She was real. And now he couldnβt stop thinking about her.
That evening, back in the Slytherin common room, Mattheo sat by the fireplace with the journal in his lap. His pen hovered over the page as he debated what to write.
Finally, he scrawled a message, keeping his tone light even though his heart wasnβt.
βSo, I hear youβve met some of my friends. I can only imagine what they told you. Care to share?β
He hesitated for a moment, then added:
βAlso, youβre cruel for knowing who I am while Iβm still in the dark. Just so you know.β
He leaned back, tapping the pen against his knee as he reread the words. Then he smirked to himself.
βBut if youβre planning to keep me guessing, at least tell me thisβwas I what you expected?β
Satisfied, he closed the journal and set it aside, his thoughts buzzing with anticipation.
Because no matter how this game played out, Mattheo knew one thing for certain.
He had to know her.
The journal was back in Mattheoβs hands the next morning, its weight heavier than usual as he tucked it under his arm and made his way to the Slytherin common room. He flopped down onto one of the worn leather couches, ignoring the chatter of his housemates, and cracked it open to her reply.
He scanned her words quickly, his brows furrowing and a smirk tugging at his lips all at once.
"That was actually the point, to not being able to judge who's writing, to kind of be able to connect, you know? So, no, I didnβt have an expectation, but fucking hell, I definitely didnβt think itβd be, like, you.
But, I donβt think it changes anything, honestly, just a little bit hard to believe the guy that punched a bloke last ball actually has a personality more than 'bad boy.'
Anddd, I mean, yeah, kind of wrong you donβt know me yet? Well, I think weβre in most classes together, maybe guess? No asking your little spies, btw."
Mattheo let out a groan that was half amusement, half frustration as he snapped the journal shut. "In most classes together," she said. Merlinβs bloody beard, that didnβt narrow it down at all.
Across the common room, Theo and Enzo lounged near the fireplace, their eyes on him like a pair of smug cats.
"You look stressed, mate," Theo drawled, flipping a page of his Potions textbook.
"Aw, heβs just lovesick," Enzo said with a grin.
Mattheo shot them both a glare. "This is your fault."
"Our fault?" Enzo repeated, mock-offended. "We gave you a perfectly good clue. Youβre the one failing to connect the dots."
"You know who she is," Mattheo accused, pointing a finger at them. "You could just tell me."
Theo smirked. "Whereβs the fun in that?"
Mattheo scowled, but Enzo cut him off before he could argue.
"Look, mate, why donβt you do what normal people do? You know, talk to the girls in your classes. Get to know them. Maybe youβll figure it out."
Mattheo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. The last thing he wanted was to parade around Hogwarts like some kind of lost puppy. But the alternative was sitting here, waiting for her to reveal herself, and his pride wouldnβt let that happen.
By lunchtime, the planβor lack thereofβwas in motion. And by motion, it meant that Mattheo was, for the first time in his life, initiating small talk.
*
βHey, do you happen to sit near me in Herbology?β he asked a Ravenclaw girl as they left the greenhouses.
She blinked, surprised. βUh, yeah? Why?β
βNo reason,β he said, flashing a grin before walking away.
Later, in Charms, he turned to a Gryffindor girl who sat a row behind him. βDo you take Ancient Runes?β
βI... do?β she replied, her confusion evident.
βCool,β Mattheo said, leaning back in his seat like it was a perfectly normal question.
By the end of the day, word had spread that Mattheo Riddleβthe brooding, sharp-tongued Slytherinβhad been seen chatting up half the girls in their year.
And, of course, it wasnβt long before Theo and Enzo caught wind of it.
βSmall talk, Riddle?β Enzo teased that evening, flopping down onto the couch beside him. βWho knew you had it in you?β
Theo joined in, smirking as he leaned against the armrest. βYou know, I heard from a Gryffindor girl that you asked her about Ancient Runes. Ancient Runes, Mattheo. Really?β
Mattheo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. βIβm going to hex both of you.β
βCome on,β Enzo said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. βAdmit itβyouβre enjoying this just a little. Chasing her, figuring her out. Itβs all very romantic.β
βItβs fucking annoying,β Mattheo muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
βYouβre so whipped,β Theo said with a grin.
βShut up,β Mattheo shot back, but his tone lacked bite.
As much as he hated to admit it, there was something about herβabout the way she kept him guessing, kept him intriguedβthat he couldnβt get enough of.
And if he had to endure a little humiliation to figure out who she was?
Well, maybe it was worth it. Because, since he got to hogwarts, someone didnβt give a fuck that he was Mattheo, just was Mattheo. That felt good, more than good.
The journal was back in her hands later that evening, and when she opened it, his reply was waiting for her:
*βFirst of all, punching a bloke was entirely necessary at the time. I donβt make the rules.
Second of all, βmost classes togetherβ isnβt helpful, and you know it. Youβre cruel, and Iβm starting to think youβre enjoying this way too much.
Third, Iβm working on it. But Iβm warning youβwhen I figure out who you are, youβre going to regret keeping me in the dark. Just wait.β*
And beneath it, in smaller, messier handwriting:
βP.S. I donβt think it changes anything either.β
hiiii omg, okay so yep, ch3 took a while because school killed me, but i'm back !!
i moved past the dares lol, and the tag list is open so lemme know !!
mwahh,
- reyy
π π’πππππ¦ : you impulsively decide to get a tattoo to get over your cheating ex. the thing is, you didnβt expect the tattoo artist to be this handsomeβ¦
βββ ββ ββ β βββ
the first thing you noticed about him was his hands.
it wasnβt on purpose. it justβ¦ happened. the way his fingers drummed against the counter while he flipped through the appointment book, the silver rings catching the dim light of the tattoo shop. his knuckles were inked, veins prominent, like they were meant to do thingsβ¦ dangerous things.
you swallowed.
"you here for a tattoo, sweetheart, or just to stare?"
your eyes snapped up to meet his, and fuck. his gaze was heavy. dark brown, a little amused, a little challenging, like he knew exactly what he was doing. like heβd caught you in a trap and was just waiting to see how youβd squirm.
you squared your shoulders, pushing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. "i want to get βangelβ tattooed. lower back."
tatted guyβs lips curled at the edges, something slow and knowing. "angel, huh?" he let the word roll off his tongue like he was tasting it. "interesting choice. you don't really give off the angel vibe, love."
you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the pet name. "i donβt think itβs your job to decide what vibe i give off."
he exhaled a quiet laugh through his nose, head tilting slightly, assessing you. "fair enough," he murmured, and then jerked his chin towards the back of the shop. "come on then. letβs get started."
βββ ββ ββ β βββ
you didnβt think itβd feel this intimate.
mattheo - thatβs what you found out his name was - had told you to lay on your stomach, and now, with your shirt pushed up and the waistband of your jeans tugged slightly down, you were hyper-aware of everything. the cool air on your skin. the way your heart pounded against the leather chair. the fact that his hands.. merlin , his hands, were currently resting on your waist as he positioned you properly.
"you good?" his voice was lower now, quieter.
you hummed, pretending to be unaffected, even though you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin.
he chuckled, the sound rough and teasing. "yeah. you say youβre fine, but youβre stiff as hell. you need to relax for me, angel."
you inhaled sharply. βmaybe if you stopped talking, i could relax."
that only seemed to amuse him more. he was enjoying this. the tension. the way you were fidgeting under his touch.
"feisty," he mused. "i like it."
before you could snap back, the buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the silence.
the first sting made you gasp. sharp, shocking. but the pain faded into something else. something warm. something grounding. the needle dragged against your skin in slow, precise strokes, and you could feel mattheoβs focus, the steady pressure of his palm against your hip as he worked.
you bit your lip, trying not to squirm.
"youβre doing good," he murmured after a few minutes.
your fingers clenched into fists at your sides. "donβt.β
"donβt what?"
"talk to me like that."
mattheo smirked, and even though you couldnβt see him, you knew.
"like what, angel?" his voice was dripping with amusement. βlike I know exactly what youβre thinking right now?"
your pulse roared in your ears.
"youβre insufferable," you muttered, face burning.
"and youβre fucking adorable when youβre trying not to lose your mind."
you turned your head to glare at him, but the moment your eyes met, your breath hitched. He was already looking at you. like really looking at you, his dark eyes hooded, lips slightly parted.
it was unfair. the way he sat there, tattoo gun in one hand, the other resting so casually on your hip like it wasnβt driving you insane. like he wasnβt completely aware of what he was doing to you.
"youβre staring again," he murmured.
you forced yourself to scoff, even as heat pooled low in your stomach. "shut up."
mattheo just smirked.
βββ ββ ββ β βββ
by the time he finished, your legs felt like jelly.
"all done," he said, wiping the tattoo gently before leaning back to admire his work. "you wanna take a look?"
you exhaled a breath you didnβt realize you were holding and sat up, moving carefully toward the mirror. when you turned slightly, twisting to get a glimpse, your heart did a weird little flip.
it was⦠beautiful.
the word angel curved perfectly along the dip of your lower back, delicate and elegant, but still bold enough to make a statement.
mattheo came up behind you, standing close enough that you could feel his warmth against your back. his voice was quiet, just for you.
"looks good on you," he murmured.
you swallowed, pulse hammering. "thanks."
his gaze lingered on yours in the mirror, something unreadable in his expression.
then, slowly, his lips quirked into a smirk.
"hope your ex sees it and loses his fucking mind."
you shook your head, turning away, reaching for your bag. βhow do you know?β
mattheo leaned against the counter, giving you a smirk that suggested he already knew.
you sighed, running a hand through your hair. βhe cheated. with some girl he met at a club. and iβ¦ stayed. for a while. tried to convince myself I could forgive him.β you let out a short, humorless laugh. βspoiler alert: i couldnβt.β
his expression shifted, just slightly. something darker, something dangerous flickering behind his gaze.
βsome people donβt deserve second chances,β he said, voice smooth, measured.
you huffed. βyeah, well. i figured that out eventually.β
mattheo studied you for a second longer, then, just as easily as he always did, he smirked again. βdonβt worry about paying.β
your brows furrowed. βwhat?β
he shrugged. βconsider it a gift.β
you scoffed, shaking your head. βabsolutely not. you did the work, iβll pay for it.β
mattheo leaned in, just slightly. βor,β he murmured, βyou could let me buy you a drink instead.β
βiβm not looking for anything,β you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.
his smirk didnβt falter. if anything, it deepened, something wicked glinting in his eyes. βwho said anything about something? no strings, angel. just a drink.β
your breath caught.
you should say no. you should. all the recent events had left you feeling empty, betrayed, and like youβd never find anyone else again.
but the way he was looking at you, the way he had looked at you all night, like he already knew youβd say yes, made your stomach flip. and maybe for once, you didnβt want to overthink it.
your lips parted, heartbeat hammering in your throat. βfine,β you murmured.
child of liberty and spontaneity with eyes of olive trees, an old soul and a will to prove herself to anybody in her way. she won't do what people expect her to, but always wins in the end. she's an artist. the kinda girl that makes you question your own sanity, who curses you out in five languages in one sentence only. she was born with a leather jacket on and a walkman attached to her hip, caffeine and rhymes running through her veins, and a burning passion for love.
β SINGER β’ SONGWRITER β’ MUSIC PRODUCER
alice williams grew up in a musically inclined household, developing a passion for singing and playing instruments from an early age. she began formal music and piano lessons at four, continuing until fourteen, while also dedicating ten years to dance and excelling in sports as the captain of oakwood secondary schoolβs volleyball team. a natural writer, she started composing poetry and lyrics as a child, penning her first song at ten for her younger sister, rory. her love for music led to the release of her debut single,Β brutal, in 2004 at seventeen. after graduating from oakwood, she moved to london to study music production at university, taking additional courses in journalism, french, and creative writing. during this time, she co-founded the bandΒ Panic Kills PradaΒ with friends maitreyi desmond, jessie rosewood, and kiara grayson, serving as the lead singer and rhythm guitarist.
source: wikipedia.org/alice_williams
β PANIC KILLS PRADA β’ BRITISH ROCK BAND
FOUNDATION βΎ
in 2006, panic kills prada was born out of a spontaneous jam session between alice williams and maitreyi desmond. the two had met through their university studies and quickly realized they shared a deep passion for music. both were inspired by alternative rock, grunge, and indie influences, and they decided to sit down and experiment with sounds, letting their creativity flow freely. their jam sessions quickly revealed a unique chemistry, and it was clear they had the potential to create something special.
soon after, alice met jessica vivienne rosewood, an aspiring bassist with a strong songwriting background. alice and maitreyi, impressed by jessicaβs talent and vision, invited her to join their musical collaboration. with jessica on bass, the core of panic kills prada was formed, and the trio began writing and rehearsing together, shaping their distinctive sound.
in 2007, the band was complete when kiara grayson, a talented drummer with a great sense of rhythm and a poetic touch to her lyrics, joined the group. kiara, who had known alice from their childhood, was an ideal fit, bringing a driving energy to the bandβs rhythm section. with kiaraβs arrival, panic kills prada solidified its lineup and began performing at local venues, quickly earning a reputation for their electrifying live shows and heartfelt, emotionally charged music.
DISCOGRAPHY βΎ
ALBUMS βΎ
iris' letters β’ debut album β’ 2007
tits in the garage β’ 2008
source: wikipedia.org/alice_williams/panic_kills_prada
β PHOTOS FEATURING ALICE
performing with panic kills prada
with sister, aurora williams
alice with supposedly 'the most infuriating eejit i've ever happened to run into' (her words)
