Summary: Mattheo Riddle canāt be friends with you anymore, he wants you so bad itās all he can focus on at one of the famous Slytherin parties.
Content: Romance, yearning, friends to lovers
Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking (i think itās underage in scotland if it isnāt with an adult?), making out, some suggestive innuendos
Note: Some parts of this were inspired by āFriendsā by Chase Atlantic. Also, writing this without him coming off as crazy horny or a possessive asshole got tricky so please bear with me
w/c: 2,066
.ć»ććć»āć»ććć»ļ¼
His eyes are dark as he watches you.
Youāre across the Slytherin Common Room, your features bathed in green light. And besides you is Astoria Greengrass, her lips split into a grin as she tips more firewhisky into your mouth.
Holy fuck you look beautiful
Mattheoās own drink has grown neglected after the past few songs playing through a muggle c.d player, magically amplified to fill this whole part of the dungeons. Theo and Blaise have pretended not to notice the expression heās wearing, recognizing the polite indifference as something else.
Though what he really felt, he didnāt even know.
Anger? Jealously? Hunger? Perhaps all three of them and more. Because he wants to be the one with his hand on your waist, pulling you against his chest while you laughed and danced. It shouldnāt be that lousy Ravenclaw bloke you were chatting with earlier.
Were you thick? Could you not recognize the desire he had for you despite his obvious habits? Even Enzo, who rarely criticized Mattheoāopting to cheer on his foolish decisionsāpointed out how stupid he looked in this one sided pining. Which he couldnāt even blame Enzo for. Youāre his friendāone of the few people outside of his circle that he likes.
Youāre funny, smart, and you bicker back without letting him cross a lineāfuck itās so sexy when you tell him off if he accidentally goes too far. And he spends all of his time flirting with you.
Touching you, whispering things that border on indecent. Naturally, you only respond with laughs to thoseābut the touches you return, dragging your hand down his chest teasingly, cupping his jaw or scratching his scalp with your manicured nails.
And he couldnāt stop. How the fuck was he supposed to stop when he could be staring at you? When you look so perfect dancing with Astoria and one of your other mates. Your collarbones are sparkling underneath the floating lightsāhad you dusted glitter on your skin? His jaw feathers as he imagines smudging that glitter over your mouth and throat.
āMate,ā Theo stands, nudging Mattheoās foot with his own from where he sat manspreading on a divan. āCome get a drink youāll actually finish. Youāre not doing yourself any favors acting all pathetic.ā
Mattheo glowers at his best friend, the comment irritating him more than it would if he werenāt already half drunk. But he stands nonetheless and follows Theo through the moving bodies around them. Half of them werenāt even Slytherins, just other students who had been snuck in for the party.
He drags a hand through his curly hair, loud music and the sound of people having fun filling his ears. He and Theo find the table haphazardly laden with drinks and Theo busies himself while Mattheo continues brooding. Heās unable to stop himself from finding you in the crowd.
Youāve moved.
And now bloody Cormac McGlaggenās hands are on you, groping your waist, his head bent towards your ear. Youāve never even talked about McGlaggen, never shown a shred of interest or care.
But at the moment your head is thrown back in laughter, neck exposed.
He feels like heās moments from stomping over there and declaring his love for you when Theo shoves a cup into his hand.
āDrink,ā he says, his voice lazy and slow as ever. Mattheo gives him an unimpressed look, certain heās going to be smashed afterwards, but tips his head back, swallowing the searing concoction.
Theo obviously made no effort with taste, just trying to distract Mattheo with a high ass alcohol concentration. And he complies, downing it all before tossing the empty cup at an overflowing bin.
He begrudgingly returns to the divan with Theo, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. Loud bass is all he can focus on for a while, his eyes heavy as he glares at the crowd of people. Things blur, his few fleeting thoughts are about you, specifically pressed against him.
Heās drawn from his stupor when a person suddenly drops down on his right. Astoria, her eyes so dazed she looks like sheās on fucking drugs rather than being drunk. Blaise immediately slides a protective arm around her shoulders despite them not being close, wordlessly keeping her safe from any fuckass perverts.
And slowly, his gaze slides from Astoria to you standing in front of her. Your posture is slightly relaxed as well, too calm for a party, and he knows the firewhisky has got to you at least a bit.
His throat physically tightensāhe canāt even talk to you.
Theo fills the silence between you five though, his ankles crossed and arms stretched across the divan. āWhat the bloody hell happened to her?ā
You sigh, looking at your passed out friend. āDrank too much too fast, had to hold her hair back over the bin.ā You shake your hair off your slightly sweaty forehead, fixing your top as you look at a mirror above Mattheoās head.
His breath slows slightly, his thoughts fighting to remain respectable.
āCould you just watch her for a bit? I donāt want to leave her for too long but I might pass out myself if I donāt get cold air soon,ā you say, fanning your shiny face. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck from behind your ear and Mattheo swallows thickly, looking away, feeling like a creeper.
āāCourse, love,ā Blaise assures in his deep voice. āNeed one of us to walk you? Donāt want you falling over.ā
Mattheo tenses. Heās not even looking at you
āNo, Iāll be okay.ā Thereās a smile in your voiceāhe can hear it, imagine it on your pretty face. āBe back soon.ā
You walk away.
And bloody hell does he tryāhe really does. But after ten minutes of sitting there, resisting the urge to follow you and do Merlin knows what, he shoves up from the couch.
He has no ears for Theoās questions, shoving through couples and out of the expansive common room.
Immediately the dungeons air feels ten times better, cooling his heated body. He hadnāt even noticed how shitty he felt, the alcohol and his desire for you causing it.
He doesnāt even have a clue which way you went, and maybe itās for the better. Heād look like a bloody fool, following you, his breathing heavy, about to blurt out every feeling he has for you.
Through the stone hallways he passes a few whispering couples, some snogging, others giggling. And suddenlyāhe sees you.
Youāre leaned against a wall, eyes closed, obviously just trying to cool off. And like a prat, heās intruding on your silence.
āMatt?ā Your voice is so beautiful he feels a shock go through his drunk self, and he blinks slowly, seeing your now open eyes. āWhat are you doing?ā
But he can barely even focus past the nickname youve adopted for him. Youāve called him Matt a million times, but it felt just as intimate as the first. And it takes every ounce of will power for him to not rush over there and press you against a wall.
āSorry, pretty,ā he all but rasps, ājust checking on you.ā
āOh,ā you whisper, and heād be damned if that wasnāt a flicker of disappointment in your eyes. But you smile that pretty smile. āIām okay, Matt, donāt worry about me.ā
fuck fuck fuck
Without even processing what heās doing, heās stalked over, standing in front of you now. And his dumbass isnāt filtering shit at this point.
āWhatās going on with McGlaggen?ā
You quirk an eyebrow, still conversational and perfectly witty when youāre drunk. āDancing with him is all.ā
āHeās a twat.ā He has no idea why he says it, but makes no effort to take it back, continuing to look at you with sleepy eyes.
You smile again. āHe is.ā You tilt your head now. āBut we were only dancing.ā
He huffs like a pissy child, taking a hand through his hair as he glances away. How the hell does he tell you heās jealous? Because if he does youāll understand everythingāevery touch heās given you.
āI donāt like seeing my mates hang around arseholes.ā Itās a shitty response, but he can barely think at the moment. Through the alcohol and buzz of feelings, all he can think of is you.
You nod, smile shrinking ever so slightly. āRight, of course.ā You push off the wall. āYouāre just looking out for a friend.ā
āYeah.ā He nods as well, dazed, cursing Theo for giving him that drink.
You step further away from the wall, that same flicker flashing through your eyes. āIām going to head back then. You might want to cool off for a bitāyou look piss drunk.ā
And then you turn, footsteps carrying you a short distance before he reaches out, catching your wrist in his hand. āPrettyāwait.ā
What the hell are you doing? He thinks, but itās already too late, youāve turned around.
Fuck it.
He tugs you closer, breath held as he manages to properly focus for one second, searching your eyes. When you donāt pull away, when you donāt ask him what heās doingāwhen you press closerāhe crashes his mouth against yours.
You let out a sound, something between a gasp and a sigh, but his mouth swallows it. Hands shifting, he lets go of your wrist, wrapping an arms around you hips, the other cupping the back of your head as he backs you against the stone wall.
Your own hand slides up his arm, burying in his curls, and he groans into your mouth. His body slots against yours, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. He can taste the firewhiskey on your tongue, and it makes his head spin. His hips press against yours, lips moving to drag down your throat, tongue tasting your sweat from dancing.
āMattāā You breathe out his name, hand tightening in his hair, eyes fluttered shut. His teeth scrape a patch of skin beneath your ear, soothing it with a kiss.
Footsteps sound from down the hallway and for one terrifying moment, you fear this will end.
But Mattheo grips your hip, pulling apart only to push open a heavy wooden door. Through the faint light creeping through the crack under the door you realize itās a storage closet but that doesnāt stop him.
Heās kissing you again, hand cupping your neck, brushing the skin with his thumb. āFuck, Pretty,ā he rasps against your lips. āTell me we arenāt just friends.ā
Something tightens in your stomach and your eyes open to meet his in the dimness. Heās waiting, you realize.
You let out a breath, fingers trailing from his hair down his spine, feeling the heat of his skin through his long sleeve shirt. āWe donāt have to be anymore,ā you whisper, unable to come up with something intelligent and sexy to say.
He groans, kissing the curve of your jaw, arm tightening around your waist. āIāve wanted you for so long, Pretty. Drives me mad when you flirt or fancy anyone else.ā His admission is softer than his actions, lips bruising a spot on your neck, leaving a mark.
Your lip catches between your teeth, fingers gripping his shoulders. āYou shouldāve told me sooner, Matt. We couldāve been doing this much earlier.ā
āIām realizing that now,ā he says darkly, pulling back to watch your flushed face in the darkness. āIāll just have to make up for lost time. Find a way to sneak you into my dorm tonight.ā
You can see his swollen lips, his dilated eyes. āWhat about the others? Theodore? Lorenzo?ā
āThey can shove it,ā he says, simply, his voice ragged. āTheo will probably congratulate me for growing the balls to kiss you.ā
You let out a soft laugh, and he wants to drink in the sound. So he settles for the closest thing by kissing you again, mouth dragging against yours, his brain dazing as heās surrounded by your scent. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
And Theo does congratulate him.
When you two return to the party, lips swollen, a pair of hickeys on your neck, he smirks. And it only widens when you two ignore everyone else and sneak up the stairs to his and Mattheoās dormitory.
Mattheo spent the rest of the night kissing you, holding you close, and assuring both you that friendship was not in the question any longer.
.ć»ććć»āć»ććć»ļ¼
a/n: THANK YOU FOR READING! That last line is the cringiest shit Iāve ever written please ignore it I had no idea how to end this.
Josie Totah as Olethra
Henry Cavill as Maxwell
Koji Yakucho as Daisuke
Delroy Lindo as Monty
Rachel McAdams as Marya
Hannah Waddingham as Van
Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Wealwell
Karen Allen as Comfrey
Though King Daeron was no warrior, two of his four sons seemed all that could be wished in a knight, lord, or heir. The eldest, Prince Baelor, won the name Breakspear at the age of seventeen, following his famous victory at Princess Daenerys's wedding tourney; he defeated Daemon Blackfyre in the final tilt. And his youngest son, Prince Maekar, seemed like to show a similar prowess. [...] the king had two other sons besides (though the realm was less certain about Aerys, bookish and obsessed with arcane matters, and Rhaegel, a sweet boy touched by madness).
Very big fan of people realising that a freak like Bruce Wayne doesnāt just happen by circumstance and accident.
Martha and Thomas were weirdos, for sure, but my favourite flavor of the Waynes is this:
āIām SUCH a normal good guyā ā says man who consistently fails at being normal and duck tapes his mental illness. Operated on a guy in his living room once.
Autistic creature who LOOKS put together but makes everyone inherently uncomfortable like a walking myth of doom:
Mild Mannered butler who definitely killed someone with his bare hands and can press a shirt better than a French maid:
