caterinà

There was no reply, but you assumed they’d heard you anyway. You had unpacked this morning, but you thought Theo had done that the night before, which is why he and Mattheo were gone before you woke.

They’d brought you back breakfast and coffee, which had been much appreciated. “Huh,” you raised an eyebrow at the black towel that hung from the only brass wallhook near the shower. It must have been Mattheos, not only because of the color–neither of your parents used a black towel and Theo’s was the same green one as yours–but also because your family had a habit of taking your towels back to your room, just so there was no mix-up.

The only reason there were even hooks in the shower to begin with, was to hold the towel of whoever was taking a shower, hence there only being one hook.

You snatched the towel off the hook and replaced it with your own, then you started the shower, and while waiting for it to heat up, slipped the towel back into Mattheo's room–the guest bedroom.

Minutes later, hot water beat down your bare back, the bright bathroom light leaving nothing to the imagination. A knock sounded on the bathroom door and you stilled, “what?” You shouted, though you couldn’t be sure if they’d heard you or not.

“I’m going to bed and Mattheo’s in his room.”

“Okay!” You shouted back, arching your head backward in order to rinse out the conditioner.

A beat or two later, Theo added, “Mom and Dad are on their way home.”

You sighed, “okay!”

Finally when you were sure he’d left the hall, you reached for your body scrub.

It must’ve been around seven when you finished up your shower. You wrung your hair out and did you best to dry it with the emerald cloth before wrapping it around your body. The garb hangs off you like a gown, like a very short night dress.

The steam from the shower had ghosted all around the bathroom, so you had to use your arm to wipe off the mirror. Your toothbrush sat in the black holder near the tap, the toothpaste enclosed secretly behind the mirror.

When you finished, you ran a hand through your hair before finally opening the door and stepping out only to come face to face with crossed arms.

You raised a brow up at him, expression turning sour, “what do you want?”

Matheo's gaze immediately snags on your exposed legs. He rakes over your appearance unabashedly before landing back on your face with a cruel smirk.

You freeze mid-step, cheeks burning with irritation and embarrassment. “What? Why are you just standing out here?” Hadn’t Theo said he was in his room?

Mattheo slowly straightens his posture and lets his arms fall to his side. His height made him seem even more imposing in the narrow doorway. “Waiting for you.” His tone was casual, but his eyes flick down to where your towel hands loosely before snapping back up to your flushed face. “You were taking forever.”

Your lips twitched in annoyance and your eyes narrowed just as you jabbed a finger into his chest, “Get out of my way.”

Mattheo catches your finger easily, his large hand wrapping around it. His eyes seemed to widen and his smile seemed to grow, if that was even possible. He held your hands against his chest, where you could feel his heart beating steadily. “Make me.”

It was a challenge, you could tell by the low and playful tone in his voice, and by the fierce look in his eyes. He refused to move an inch, planting his feet in front of him and blocking your path.

Your other hand came up to push against him again, but this time he didn’t reach to stop you. Rather, his eyes dropped to the movement of the towel that had been under your grasp. You had forgotten that it was your hand holding it mostly together. His eyes snagged on the glimpse of bare skin where the towel shifted slightly. His smirk had faded into a rather intense expression–one you could not read.

His grip on your finger tightened briefly before he suddenly grabbed both your wrists, forcing your gaze onto his. “Stop.”

You halted, then grinned, “What? Afraid I could actually do some damage?” Your smirk was the one now evergrowing.

He tilted his head upward and one corner of his lips lifted, but his gaze remained on yours, “you’re not pushing me with enough force to even budge me.”

Your left eye twitched.

You watched the way his eyes flicked downward, to where your towel was dangerously low on your hips, “If you keep moving so much, that towel is going to fall off soon.”

Your eyes widened and Mattheo relished in the slight panic that settled over your features. You yanked your hands free from his and grabbed the towel, pulling it up and tighter around your body, securing it under your arm for good measure.

Mattheo watched with a raised brow as you scrambled to grab hold of the towel, his gaze lingering on your bare shoulders and collarbone tersely before snapping back up to your face. He stepped closer, invading your personal space again on purpose, “See? I told you to stop moving.” The mocking in his tone had you thinking of ways to kick him where it would matter most.

“See?” You mimicked in a childlike voice, “I told you to stop moving.” You muster up all your strength and push against him with your shoulders, trying to shoulder past him.

He was quick, but not quick enough. But he got to you before you got to your room. One arm shooting out to press against the wall, effectively cadging you. He leaned down, his face inches from yours as he spoke in a steady and low tone, “You’re being difficult,” his warm breath ghosted over your lips like the steam from the shower did in the bathroom. “Just stand still for once.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, darkening them in the already very dimly lit hall, “What do you want?” 

Mattheo’s gaze dropped to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again, “I want you to listen,” he said with all the authority of Professor Snape, “We’re sharing a bathroom, so you’re going to have to get used to seeing me around. And that means no more prancing around half-naked.” He paused, his eyes flicking down to your towel again.

A lump formed in your throat, which you swallowed almost instantly. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice, and if he had, you had hoped he wouldn’t think it was because of his closeness. But it was Mattheo and if there was anything he was good at, it was going against your every wish.

A slow smirk returned, drawing the corners of his mouth upward in a way that seemed unnatural. You had noticed the slight crinkle of his eyes the moment he saw your throat work.  He leaned forward, closing the distance between his mouth and your ear, and letting his voice drop lower, said, “You know, for someone who’s so bothered by my presence, you’re swallowing awfully hard right now.”

“Shut up,” was your immediate response. You forced yourself to meet his stupid smug gaze. He wouldn’t win. You wouldn’t let him.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, watching you try and maintain your composure. Then, as if acting on the thought right when it popped into his head, he suddenly reached out and grabbed your wrist again, pulling you toward him before pressing a hand against your towel covered stomach to keep you still–though it did little to settle you, it did even more than you would have thought possible.

When he pressed you sucked in a breath, feeling your stomach twist in ways it never had before. Heat coiled between your thighs and you could only hope he didn’t notice that too.

“Let’s test something.”

“What–let go!” You quietly shouted.

“Shh,” he hushed, moving his hand lower, testing the edge of your towel. His eyes searched yours, as if he was waiting for you to understand something, and without looking back down–even as his hand fondled the end of the cloth–said, “See how easy it would be?”

A shiver ran down your spine and a tingle shot through your core. Your bottom lip quivered and your eyes widened as air caught in your throat, “Wha–”

“Shh,” he repeated softly, his thumb brushing against your lower lip lightly. And suddenly, you were taken back to the day before, on the ride here. When he’d all but jumped onto you, his hand snaking around your throat, thumb brushing up and down your pulse. Would he do that again? Did you want him to? A part of you immediately said no. But another part of you…the one now…

Mattheo’s hand kept dipping lower and lower, slowly teasing. His gaze remained on you, wanting to see every reaction he was able to elicit–wanting to know every expression you made just for him. His pupils dilated as took in your widened eyes and trembling lips, “So easy,” he murmured.

You sucked in a sharp breath, one eye closing as you braced yourself against his touch. Fire seemed to follow everywhere his fingers treaded against you, leaving massacres in their wake. You leaned your head slightly away from his hand that was dangerously close to your open throat. 

He grinned what he saw, and with swift movement, his hand went from your lips to your throat. His finger wrapped gingerly around it, not squeezing, but just the mere touch made your eyes snap open again, “See?”

You angled your eyes down at him as best you could, “but you wouldn’t.”

His thumb brushed slightly against your windpipe, not applying pressure, but the mere suggestion of it sends a shiver down your spine. “Wouldn’t what?” his voice sounded almost casual, but there was an edginess to it that spoke the truth, “Wouldn’t choke you?” 

“Wouldn’t…” you breathed, hearing how weak you sounded, sending a little rage to your head. “You wouldn’t touch me.”

“Why not?” Keeping his hands steady and in control as the hand on your stomach pressed lower, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just above your hop bone. His thumb on your throat gently pressed, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel vulnerable. “I’m touching you now.”

“But…but you’re Theo’s best friend.” You tried to deny it. You tried to remember all the times Mattheo had teased you or annoyed you or pissed you off. All the times he’d snuck into your room with Theodore just to draw mishatches in sharp on your face. But that wasn’t the one who stood before you–this must have been what those other girls had seen.

That wasn’t the only thing that angered you, though. Not the fact that he was a player. Not the fact that even now, he played with your emotions and touched you without permission. A part of you wasn’t even angry at him.

Half of you hated his guts right now, but the other half…the other half hated yourself. Because of what you were feeling when he touched you. Because of the fact that it was feeling what it was when he–Mattheo–tocuhed you.

It could have been anyone else, but it had to be him? But then again. You shook your head–trying not to think of your stupid school girl crush right now–it was so long ago anyway, and what he was doing was basically illegal. Wasn’t it?

But you couldn’t lie to yourself. You couldn’t deny the way you had pictured him doing exactly this to you countless of times before you went to bed and countless of times when you woke. It was as if he could see that in your expression, and because of that, wanted to exploit it.

“That’s interesting,” he purred against your throat.

You locked your jaw and stared at him down, “What? That you’re being an absolute jackass?”

“That you’re into this.” Heat spreads over your body in more ways than one. 

Your cheeks heated and you began blinking rapidly, unable to control your lips as they trembled. His dark laughter sent your hands shaking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I, though?” 

If he were any cockier, he might have a shot at being the United States president.

He palmed your chin, forcing you to look up at him, tightening his grip when you tried jerking away. Your breathing quickened as he dropped his head closer and closer, letting his fingers rove across your delicate, towel covered hip.

His lips hovered over your own, you thought he might kiss you–Merlin–did you want that to happen? What would people say? The girls in your year? In your House? But that was neither here nor there right now. Your eyes fell shut and you tipped your head up. Fuck. You were into it.

The slightest flutter of skin slid across your mouth as the same time the front door opened and your parents walked in. Mattheo sighed and dropped his head against your shoulder. He didn’t seem nervous or afraid that they would stumble upon what had just happened between him and their daughter. Rather, his expression was that of perplexity. Or..resignition? It could have even been irritation…at the disruption?

He held your gaze as he stood to his full height, making a scene of letting you go, “until then, Princess.”

You took the opportunity to slip into your room, locking the door behind you and leaning against it. Was he just about to kiss you? Were you just about to let him? Red darkened your cheeks as you crouched onto the floor, still in nothing but your make-shift dress towel. You thought of all the ways that could have ended had your parents not barged through the door. Would he have taken you? Right there against the wall? 

And again, you questioned your morals and sense of logic. Electricity coiled around your stomach and you reached down to hold it, touching just where he had above the towel. You pressed slightly and hissed at the ache that pulsed between your thighs.

“Fucking Merlin.”

a/n: lol i want to get this out and quickly as possible, so the next part is the last, please enjoy this!

tags: @iamaconfusedpan  @starrysky1212 @eneywey  @phoenix666stuff @hereticdance@luannastylinsonlupin @iamaconfusedpan  @starrysky1212 @idgaf10-blog @nottriddlethis 

December was upon you, as was Winter Holiday. You couldn’t wait, staying in bed, only getting up to shower, brush your teeth, use the toilet and eat! It sounded like such a time. You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that right now.

Now, you had to focus on the piece of paper in front of you and the questions on the screen. This would be your final grade. How well you did would determine what you remembered from lectures. But it was no sweat, you had done this hundred of times before. You would be fine.

The problems began the second you left the hall. Heading back up the steps, a single person stood leaning against the wall–the biggest smirk on his face.

Your expression flattened when you noticed him. Rather than stopping, you sped right past him. He hurried to catch up, “what’s going on baby sis?”

“I’m not your sister, do not call me that.” You huffed.

“Right, you’re not my sister, just a baby.” You halted in order to glare at him, hoping he’d get the message. “You really should stop running off, Theo would hate it if I lost you.”

“Yes, where is my brother on this chilly afternoon?”

Mattheo tilted his head as he followed you up the steps. “He’s sort of…busy.”

You scoffed, “busy?–thank you, see you in three weeks,” you spoke to the girl behind the glass as you slid the key over to the other side, “doing what exactly?” you directed at the idiot standing beside you.

Mattheo’s grin faltered a little and he scratched the back of his neck, “driving home.”

Your eyebrows drew closer and your eyes narrowed, “what do you mean ‘driving home’?”

“Well, he said there was something he had to do and I was already going to stay with your family this holiday, so he drove…home.”

Another scoff fell from your lips as you threw your hands up, “of course he did!”

“Don’t be angry, Princess, your parents don’t live that far from campus.”

“Theres no way I’m getting in your car.”

“Oh come on,” he rolled his eyes, sounding annoyed now, “you’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, when Theo was also there–when it was a 5 minute drive to my dorm, and oh yeah–when there was no other choice!”

“Hate to break it to you, Princess, but you don’t really have a choice here either.”

You growled, “Don’t call me that.”

“Why ever not?” He grinned, but it was frustratingly on purpose.

You shouldered past him, heading down the steps again. The concrete beneath your feet felt real, more real than the situation you were now in felt. Merlin–you thought–save me. 

But Merlin was long dead and Mattheo, unfortunately, was very much alive.

“Where are you going?” He yelled after you, “the parking lot is the other way!”

“I’m not going with you!” You shouted back.

“Seriously? You’re being childish!”

You grit your teeth and spin back around, nearly headbutting the idiot. You swallowed and took a step back, trying to ignore the other students milling around you, “I’ll just take the train.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, “You are so difficult sometimes.”

You paused, was he being truthful? You didn’t like him for a multitude of reasons. He was a player, an asshole–why your brother was friends with him you couldn’t figure. You had never liked him because of the stories you’d heard other girls tell about him, how he’d leave in the middle of the night and pretend not to know them the next day. Only the scum of the earth did things like that. You would not be stuck in a car with such scum.

“I’d rather be stuck on a train with strangers than in a car with you.”

“Why?” His exasperation was palpable.

“Oh, like you don’t know.” You huffed.

“Know what? You’ve never liked me for why, I don’t know. I don’t really care right now because I’m tired and hungry, and I’d really like to be on the road before it hits midnight.”

“It’s not even four!”

“Yeah, well you know what I mean.”

You went quiet for a moment, watching the grade-A asshole. He stared at you, a challenge in his eyes. You released a breath, and again, pushed past him, “Fine. But if you try anything I will punch you in that smug ass face of yours.”

Mattheo whistled and spun around, his "tiredness" seemingly forgotten.

“And when I see Theo, I’m going to punch him too.” You murmured under your breath, but of course, he somehow still heard you.

“I’d love to be present for that–

“Of course you would be,” your retort was quick, like they always were when it came to him. He brought out the worst in you, the part of you that couldn’t stand being humble and nice.

You heard him unlock the car in front of you, but before you could pop the passenger door open, he locked it again.You tugged but the door wouldn’t budge. You glared, he smirked. Once again he unlocked the car and you went to open it, but the lock clicked again.

“Stop being an ass,” you yelled.

Mattheo held up his hands in mock innocence, his brown eyes crinkling with mischief, going against the very thing he tried to convey, “keys must be busted.”

“I’m going to bust you if you don’t–

“Chill, Princess,” he clicked the keys and the car unlocked. Finally, you yanked the door and it moved. A small sigh of relief fell from your lips. 

“You’re extremely angry today…didn’t do so well on your final?” He asked after you were both in the car with seatbelts on.

“Shut up.” You pulled down the mirror and tried to relax your furrowed brows. It was only two hours. Only two hours with the jerk. You could do two hours…but would your sanity still be intact by the time you reached your destination?

One could hope…one could simply hope.

Five minutes on the road, you yawned. Mattheo was sure you had spent cramming for the final you’d had today the night before, so it wasn’t all too surprising.

You stretched, sinking down into the seat. He snuck a few glances at you, watching how your shorts kept riding up your legs and how you seemed to not care. He wondered if this was how you were with guys in your year. He sure hoped not–they’d take advantage immediately. Anger boiled in his chest at the mere thought of anyone looking at you.

“Do you mind if I roll the window down?” You didn’t wait for his response, which had one of his eyebrows twitching and an irked smirk falling to his lips. And if the smug expression you’d looked at him right after with was anything to go off of, he’d estimate that you’d done it just to piss him off. 

But Mattheo’s eyes snagged on the white lace tanktop that was lower than it had been before. He swallowed, averted his gaze and cleared his throat as he reached to turn on the radio. You were oblivious to his stares, at least, that’s what it seemed like to him. 

He sighed heavier than he needed to, even though he knew he could use some of the cold air to erase the steamy thoughts–Merlin that was insane. His head hadn’t been screwed on right this monring–though it’s not like he hadn’t thought of it before.

The way she’d look if–OKAY, he needed a cold beverage–now.

“What–dude what are you doing?”

“I’m thirsty.” He glared at your snort.

“What?” Your eyes popped out, he wondered how many poor fools had fallen for that false innocence.

“I hate you,” he spat, signalling right.

“The feeling’s mutual.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he wondered if he was fast enough, that maybe he could yank it out of your mouth. A smug grin spread across his face at the thought. That would definitely take care of the talking.

“Stop smiling like that, you look creepy.”

He threw another dirty look at your farce, huddled as far away as you could get in the car. “You’re such a baby.”

“I am not!” 

But he was already parking and sliding out of the car.

“Asshole!”

Mattheo smirked, he’d been called worse by you, but that was definitely his favorite.

A few minutes later, Mattheo had come out of the convenience store, threw a black bag at you, and then slammed the door shut again, wanting to fill up the tank before getting back on the free way.

You were in the middle of setting yet another hateful paragraph to your brother when you heard the gas handle click. The car was full. A little light bulb exploded at the top of your head.

You waited for Mattheo to empty the can, waited for him to set it back on the hook,and when he finally turned around, reaching for the handle of the car like you had about thirty minutes ago, you locked the car.

He glared at you through his tinted windows. It was getting darker now, not because of the time–it was around four, four: thirty at the latest–but because of the season. It was winter and you were in the heart of London, heading toward a gated neighborhood.

He was annoyed, but he wasn’t angry…not yet anyway. You wanted to make sure he came out of this hating the car ride with you more than you hated the car ride with him.

“Open the door, Princess.” His tone was warning, but it only fueled your amusement.

“I’m afraid I can’t, faulty locks and all.”

He called your name–not a nickname, but your full first name, and he’d drawn it out, another warning tone–but something else as well. Perhaps he was royally irritated now?

You unlocked the car, but locked it right when he reached for the handle again, smirking when his eyes blazed through the window between you two. If he wasn’t pissed off before, he surely was now.

“When I get into this car–

“You’ll what?” You lifted your eyebrows, the fake innocent face from before falling into place again.

He grinned, but there was nothing amusing about the way his lips quirked up and his eyes burned through the glass, “you don’t want to know.”

Your insides did backflips. What did he mean by that? Would he kick you out of the car? Make you walk all the way home? No, Theodore would kill him if he did that. Then what? Your mind began rising at the possibilities. An unexpected ache rose between your thighs as you watched him.

You shook your head, “fine, come on loser.”

You unlocked the car again and Mattheo snatched the door open–nerly ripping it off it’s hinges. He slid through the car with the fluidity of a wildcat, his right hand clamped around your throat and his face met yours, mere inches away.

The cold of the outside hit you, but the heat of his body warmed you right back up. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. You couldn’t speak–too shocked to utter any coherent sentences.

His grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough to keep you still. He moved his face nearer until you thought he might kiss you–but he didn’t. His mouth moved just above your ear and you wallowed–knowing he could feel not only your quickening pulse, but the way you reacted to his touch, the way you sucked in a breath when the heat of his words coated over your ear and part of your neck.

“You are so lucky your brother is my best friend." His mouth was so close that when you spoke, his teeth grazed the tip of your ear.

Embarrassment darkened your cheeks. You regained consciousness and shoved him away, but he didn’t move instantly. “Get off you idiot.” Your words trembled and that was probably more embarrassing than whatever he’d just done that made you feel whatever you had just felt.

You didn’t even know what he’d meant by that. What would he have done if you weren’t Theo’s sister? Would he really have left you? Well, if you weren’t Theodore's sister, you likely wouldn’t even be in this predicament.

Your entire body physically shivered at the memory of his teeth against your skin, your lips trembled at the way he stared at you…the way is eyes looked more golden than brown right now…and the way he looked at you like you were–no… no he coudln’t…

He turned away, settling back down, he adjusted the seat and pulled his seatbelt over him. But rather than starting the car, he shut the door and reached for the bag that lay on the middle console. He pulled out an energy drink, swallowing almost half of it in one gulp after forcing it open. 

You must have just imagined it, there was no way he’d looked at you in that way. One, because you were you, two because he was him, and three, because he hated you. And you hated him.

You hated each other.

And that was that…

Slowly, you lifted your gaze to his, shivering when his eyes caught yours without having turned his head. “What?” His voice was hoarse and you wondered if it was from the drink.

“Shut up,” you shifted your body away from his, turning your back on him to stare out the window once more.

He chuckled, but didn’t respond. You were in some way grateful for that.

“Drive, we still have a long way to go and I want to be as far away from you as fast as possible.”

“I’m sure,” he said in a way that sounded as if he didn’t think that was true at all.

“Shut up!” You said again, wanting to get the last word in, and you did…for the time being.

“Thank Merlin!” You took a giant whiff of fresh air as you took your first step out of the car since getting in. “Home sweet home.”

“Mattheo!” You turned and saw your brother clambering down the steps. You glared as he called your name, holding his hands out as you approached.

You shoved past him, completely ignoring him, “You think she’s mad?” You heard him ask that idiot before slamming the front door shut.

You found your luggage in your room. The last time you had seen it, it was in your brother's car, that no doubt sat in the garage.

You wondered when your parents would get home. Mattheo’s would be out of town, which is why he was staying with your family this holiday. You just hoped he wouldn’t ruin the plans you had.

You decided to unpack later, first you wanted to eat and then you would take the best shower of your life. The dorm showers were nothing to scoff at, but nothing–absloutley nothing compared to the water pressure at your house.

There were three bathrooms in your house, one in the master bedroom, where your parents stayed. One upstairs, which you shared with Theo, and one smaller one that didn’t have a tub. That one was on the first floor behind the stairs, typically used for guests.

Along with the three bathrooms, there were five bedrooms. The master–with a gorgeous terrace overlooking the garden–yours, Theos, and two guest bedrooms, one which sat on the first floor along with the smaller bathroom.

The master bedroom was heavily separated from the other rooms, it lay on the other side of the second floor. When you walked up the stairs, you came to the middle, where a giant family portrait hung above an old, but taller table. If you took the left side, you’d round the hall and be led to the master bedroom. If you took the right side, you’d be led down a longer, more curved railing that would transform into a hallway. 

A giant wooden arch marked the entrance of the hallway where four rooms sat on opposite sides of the hall. Theo’s room sat across from yours, in the middle of your room and the guest room. The guest room was the furthest from the archway, yours was the closest.

You jerked, hearing Theo call your name from downstairs. You left your things where they were, only taking the time to plug in your phone charger before heading back down.

“Mom and Dad are running late, I had to come home and make dinner before you got here.” Your eyes narrowed in on him. “Oh, come on, you know how cranky you get.”

Something told you that hadn’t been the only reason for his disappearance, but you left it alone for now because you were really hungry.

“Foods already on the table,” he said as you sped past him. “Thank you, Theo.” He mumbled to himself. 

Mattheo was already at the table, chomping down on a piece of chicken. Your mouth watered. You slipped into the seat diagonal to him and reached for a buttered biscuit. It was gone in seconds. You scooped spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, macaroni, and corn onto your plate.

“Slow down, Princess, you’re going to vacuum everything up.” You kicked mattheo under the table right as he laughed.

Your brother came into the kitchen seconds later, his hazel, but more green eyes glistened in the yellow oven light. “Sve some for me,” he huffed a laugh too as you tried to kick him as well, but failing. 

“Violent, isn’t she?” Your eyes narrowed in on his, turning to Mattheo after he agreed.

“So incredibly violent.”

“You two better sleep with one eye open.”

“Oh, I’ll be locking my door.” Your brother grinned.

“I don’t know,” Mattheo tilted his head upward only to look down at you even when sitting, “I like a challenge.”

Heat fluctuated all over your body. You turned your head downward, trying to focus on the food in front of you rather than the warmth pooling in your stomach.

He was so utterly confusing. What did he even mean by that? Or by what he’d said in the car? Did he want you to sneak into his room at night? If so, why?

The image of him at the gas station appeared before you, the feeling of his thumb pressing just above your pulse, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to show you what he could do if he wanted to. And then the way his breath–his mouth–his teeth.

Merlin–you could not think of that right now. You swallowed the images, hoping they’d stay down. “I’m getting in the shower,” you stood, carrying your plate to the sink.

“Fine, but you’re washing dishes.”

You rolled your eyes, “why can’t Mattheo wash them?”

“He’s a guest.” Your brother replied.

“Guest my ass,” you peeked at the boy in question, wondering why he wasn’t butting in like he usually did. “Fine whatever."

“Love you, Sis!”

“Kill yourself.”

Mattheo choked on something as laughter tried to escape his throat. You hoped it was enough to kill him…maybe you were violent…

Ten minutes later your pajama set lay across your bed and you were in the main bathroom upstairs, where it sat a few feet down from your bedroom, right after the entrance of the archway.

You pulled the curtain back and leaned over the tub to turn the knob of the shower, you adjusted your towel on your shoulder before it fell. Right when the water rushed down from the head, the door to the bathroom opened and someone glided in like they owned the bathroom.

You turned narrowed eyes on to Mattheo, his arms and legs crossed as he leaned against the closed door.

“Get out.” You started toward him, crossing your own arms briefly before breaking one away to push at his chest.

“Calm down, Princess,” his hand snaked around your wrist, pushing it away from him, “I’m just messing with you, your parents are running a bit late, Theo wanted me to tell you.”

“He couldn’t tell me himself?” You huffed.

Mattheo shrugged and a bitch ass grin engulfed his face, “he wanted to take an early night.”

“I’m sure.”

“Belive whatever you want,” he turned his back to you, but paused mid-reach to the doorknob.

“Was there something else?” Your tone was sickly sweet, but you did not mean it in that way at all.

“No,” he shifted slightly and glanced at you, “just that green is so not your color.” 

You wrenched the towel from your shoulder and whipped it at him just as he yanked the door open and made his escape in a fit of giggles.

Ughrh.

a/n: let me know what you think should happen, i'm open to ideas and requests are open!

tags: @iamaconfusedpan  @starrysky1212 @eneywey  @phoenix666stuff

between breath and skin

Deep in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what a certain slytherin was getting up to right about now. Embarrassed, you shoved the thought away just as it settled in. But you couldn’t forget the way he’d been so close to you under that tree last rest day.

When he had snuck off and pulled you away from the detention that the two of you had unfairly been given. You’d learned that the same day. But even still…

It hadn’t been all that long ago, but it had been a good amount of importance, clearly, since you had imagined it over and over again, typically in the evening, right before you closed your eyes and drifted off. As well as in the morning, before the birds belted their songs and prepared to leave the nest to catch breakfast.

Riddle's golden eyes, like brown lava appeared every time. His whole aesthetic was so cinematic, like he was born to be in front of a camera. He was handsome, but so what? There were plenty of Hogwarts boys that were handsome. None quite like him though.

You wanted to whine every time you unconsciously whispered that to yourself. It irked you. Why did it have to be him? Why him? Of everyone, even Cormac might have been–okay no, he wouldn’t, but still.

It messed with your mind, the logical part of you saying it didn’t matter what your heart felt, he was dangerous, even if you didn’t want to blame him for his fathers deeds. The apple never falls too far from the tree, just take a look at you and your father.

Unfortunately, his tree was rotten, therefore his apple would also be–Alright what the hell were you even saying now?

“It’s almost time,” one of your friends murmured. While you weren’t the last to leave the darkened, fire-lit heavy common room, you almost were, and Filch would no doubt be doing house sweeps, trying to get anyone he could in trouble. You shuddered at the thought of being the target of his mangy gaze again.

But then your heart leapt at the prospect of being in close proximity to him, which should have been a red flag, and yet…

“Have a goodnight,” you waved toward your friends, heading further down the hall.

“Goodnight,” they replied back.

You should’ve been tired, but when you settled your books, pens and parchment on your desk and turned to look out the window, showcasing the quidditch field, you felt the sense of exhaustion leave you.

Maybe you could take a walk around the dorms, maybe that would tire you out enough. But your mind was racing, daydreams had become a rather common occurrence with you. And they typically consisted of…him…unfortunatley.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you wrapped yourself in a throw blanket. You slid on a pair of slippers and swiftly made your escape.

The longer you roamed the dorms–still warm, from the fire that had been put out right before the last of the students had left–the more restless you grew. 

It bothered you, you realized. It bothered you that he had somehow got the better of you. That he had somehow won you over. Perhaps he had used a spell to make you feel this way? To make your heart flutter?

Slytherins were known for their…activites, you wouldn’t put it past them to spell someone in order to get what they wanted…but if that were true, then what did he want?

And nevermind that, weren’t you just telling him you’d regretted misjudging him simply because of who he was? Why were you backtracking now?

Because you wanted an excuse. You wanted something to blame for the way you were beginning to feel toward him–which was a great deal less than a classmate should feel. 

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t at all fair. You bit the inside of your cheek. If people found out, your friends and family…how would they react? What would they say? A Ravenclaw and a Slyterhin. Or better yet, a Ravenclaw and the Dark Lord's son?

But you knew you were falling faster than you could stop to care about such things. You just couldn’t admit that to yourself…not yet. Now now, when midterms were just around the corner and all eyes would be on you and your classmates.

You already had too much on your plate, between leading a study group for those who needed to catch up, working on your own studies, and making sure no fights broke out amongst the other students as Head Girl, it was just too much.

But again, a part of you didn’t care, a part of you had already fallen headfast into whatever this was. And a part of you knew you were only saying all these things to yourself because you were afraid…afraid of rejection. It crawled up your skin like spiders, the feeling making you sick to your stomach, the thought of being rejected.

It had never seemed like something you had to care terribly about because you had never felt this way–ever.

Which brought you back to the feeling of exasperation and annoyance. Why did it have to be him? Why him?

You closed your eyes and stopped pacing. Rather, heading for the exit. You came face to face with a sleeping painting, thankfully they did not wake up. You slipped down the staircase and into a hall lit by wall sconces. The blanket wrapped around you and your night dress like a warm hug. 

You knew exactly where you were going, it was a place that allowed you to think when it got too loud inside your head. You could breathe up there, and pretend the world away.

You made little noise as you twisted and turned around the corners of Hogwarts, careful to listen for Filch and maybe even Snape–Merlin knew if the man slept or not, he didn’t seem like the type to snore off into dreamland.

You climbed the stairs of the astronomy tower, resting against the top for a second before pushing off and stepping into the roofless tower. Hues of every kind of blue danced across the tables and tools in the room. They hit your face, outlining your features in the blue darkness.

Slowly, you made your way to the balcony, your hands falling onto the railing that overlooked all of Hogwarts.

It was a gorgeous sight. The most beautiful one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. It pained you to know that most students had not a single clue as to what the tower looked like at night, but you also took a bit of pride knowing that you shared this spectacle with very few.

A bang sounded from the classroom clad in midnight grace, like someone had banged something on one of the desks.

“Who’s there?” Your eyes narrowed and you reached for your wand, only to realize it was on your nightstand in your dorm. You cursed under your breath and dropped the blanket, letting it pool around your feet.

You readied your stand, hands flexing as your eyes fixated on the figure in the dark. Tall, but not lanky–built but not all muscle.

“Show yourself.” You glowered at the laugh that came from the dark. How annoying.

You prowled forward, teeth bared as you came face to face with…

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Riddle smiled one of those half-smiles that never quite reached his eyes. “You look cute,” he nodded, stalking past you, no longer in his robes, but in black sweats and a blue sweatshirt. “Who did you plan to fight in that moomoo? Filch’s cat?” He barked out a laugh, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It was genuine. That laugh. That smile

Snap out of it! 

A scoff fell out of you just as a grin spread across your face. You hated how your heart leapt. “It’s not a moomoo, it’s a nightdress.”

He spared a second glance behind him, looking you up and down. One of his eyebrows raised and his expression went from amusement to concern, "there's a difference?”

You worked your jaw, “you’re no spectacle yourself,” your arms braced your upper body against the railing, "I didn't know Slytherin's wore anything other than snake green.”

“You’d be surprised at how we take the color black.” He tilted his head downward.

“Black isn’t a color,” you corrected.

“Ah, yes, there she is. That Ravenclaw know-it-all”

“I’m not a know-it-all!”

“Righ, and black isn’t a color.”

Your eyes twitched just then, “I was just stating a face. That doesn’t make me a know-it-all”

“You know, I’m surprised you care at all what I think.”

“I don’t.”

“Actually,” he spun around, leaning his back against the metal, his hands gripping the sides of the pole, “I think you do.”

“Of course you do,” you rolled your eyes.

“Ouch,” he brought a hand to his heart, “it pains me to hear you say that.”

“Is it life threatening?” You queried, batting your eyelashes up at him.

A bet passed and then a breath fell from him, “No?”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head, turning away from him to overlook the snowfall below, “shame.”

You could feel his stare burning the back of your head, you could also feel the way your heart kicked up at the thought of how nice he looked in casual clothing. He looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, and if his wet hair hadn’t been due to some freak accident, you were likely right.

“So, what are you doing out here so late?” You hummed and glanced back at him.

He shrugged, “just, thinking.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, “deep.”

Riddle scoffed, and waved with his hand, “Well, then what are you doing up here?”

You everted your gaze, unable to hold it without spilling your secret. Because you couldn’t say that you were up here looking for answers about what to do with how you were beginning to feel toward him. Why was he even up here? Why now? Why did Merlin hate you!?

“Know-it-all?” You heard him step closer. A shudder ran through you. You could smell him. He smelled like shower gel and freshly picked cherries. It reminded you of that day under the willow. It was intoxicating. The atmosphere did not help at all.

“You’ve been eating cherries.” The comment left your lips before you could even realize what you were saying. Cheeks flaming, you're turned away, trying to get rid of his presence by sheer will.

“Is it that obvious?” He sniffed himself, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s…” you stopped yourself. It was on his breath, in every word he spoke.

A long silence passed and in that time, he had collected himself again, shifting his body closer to yours so that your shoulders touched. You ignored it. You would ignore it.

“To be honest,” he broke the tension you’d drafted on your own, “I came up here to confess something.”

You went rigid, your mind spinning a thousand thoughts per second. “What do you mean?”

“The stars,” a dry chuckle rumbled from his throat, but it sounded more pained than joyous. “It’s stupid when I say it out loud, but I like to tell them my secrets, it helps bearing them a little easier.”

“Because you can’t tell anyone else, right?” You tried to ignore the way his boiling brown eyes swept over you, wringing your hands out in front you. “Even though you’re always surrounded, the only times you feel like you can speak your mind are when you’re alone.” His stare intensified, like he was really seeing you for the first time.

When he finally looked away, you exhaled. “It’s interesting.”

“What do you mean…” perhaps he thought you were weird? Was that really the vibe you gave off?

The corner of his lip lifted in an almost half smile. It sent your stomach to your feet. “You. You’re interesting.”

Your lips pressed together and you swallowed. “I guess…. I mean I get it. I came up here with a question.  Maybe I hoped that they would answer me…or something–I don’t know…” You shrugged, “...it’s complicated.”

“If I understand anything, it’s complicated confessions.”

You snorted, “how poetic.”

“It’s true though.”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for a lot longer than necessary. “You know you are such a nerd.”

“Thanks,” a toothy smile gave way, and in turn, had you mimicking it.

You shook your head, “what did you want to confess?”

“Well, you see, that’s only for them to know.” He pointed to the sky.

“I could be your star,” you mumbled, “if only for tonight.”

Riddle's grin made you want to crawl under your sheets and never resurface. “That might have been that corniest line I’ve ever heard, Ravenclaw.”

“What, I’m not Know-It-All anymore?”

“Do you want to be?” His quick-paced response pissed you off.

“You’re annoying.”

“Ah ah,” you clicked his tongue and shook his finger in your face, “Stars don’t talk, they only listen. That’s their job.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sure you do.” He sighed, lifting his arms over his head, stretching.

You felt the need to punch the smugness off his stupidly handsome face. Stupid, stupid.

Silence encompassed the space between you and him, which wasn’t much of anything. You felt your heart beat speed up as he shifted and cleared his throat. “So, what was your question?”

You tried to keep calm, “it’s private.”

He raised an unconvinced brow, “you can’t seriously expect me to spill all my secrets and receive nothing in return.”

“I don't expect you to reveal any secrets!” Your face warmed and you turned away.

“Any louder and Filch might catch us again.”

“Shut up,” you murmured.

“But maybe,” he nudged you with his shoulder, “maybe that’s what you want…”

Wide eyes met his, the color of molten lava. You couldn't tell what he saw when he looked at you, you just hoped it wasn’t something as pathetic as embarrassment.

That same half grin crept onto his face again, you wanted to punch it away. It would give you some relief, if only for a few minutes. But it might be worth it…

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s just as interesting as you.” He turned his eye back on the snowfall in front of him.

You stood there in the quiet cold for what felt like years. And it was nice. It was calming. Something you never would have expected from Mattheo Riddle, and yet here you were. Enjoying his presence more than you’d ever enjoyed being alone. That was interesting. 

You snuck a glance over at him, flushing when his eyes flickered to your immediately after.

Almost as interesting as him. 

a/n: thank you for the wait darlings xx