#amongemeraldclouds fluff

He shook his head as he opened the door, eager to get it over with. He took in pots and plants of various shades of green, color sprouting sporadically where flowers and fruits blossomed. Then there was you.

You saw the curly haired boy approach, Mattheo Riddle, you recalled. Everything about him spelled trouble from the frown fixed on his face, to his askew tie, and the way he strut as if the entire world bent to his will.

You smiled and introduced yourself politely. Your mum after all had raised you to give others a chance. To look beyond first impressions.

Still, it didn’t surprise you when his frown stayed glued to his face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he just stated by way of introduction. “Here’s how this will work. I’m going to stay here,” he said, grabbing a chair at the side of the greenhouse and taking a seat. “I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. When the time is over, I’ll walk away. Nice and simple.”

“So you’ll just let me do all the work?” You huffed, your fists clenched by your side.

“Glad you’re catching on, darling. Go on. Some would say it’s a privilege to be around me but it’s okay if you don’t see that yet.” He flashed you a shit eating grin and propped his legs up the table across him. Such a shame. He’d probably be handsome if his personality weren’t so rotten.

You caught yourself and your expression turned livid. “No, being around you is punishment. I don’t know what I did to Snape to deserve this,” you mumbled to yourself.

Your mum may have raised you to be polite, but she also taught you to stand up against bullies. You strode over to the arrogant boy, plucking a bearded iris on your way. You crushed it beneath your fingers, muttering an incantation.

When you were close enough, you hurled the crushed petals at his feet. Upon impact, sparks burst. Bright searing sprays of light was accompanied by a loud bang.

Mattheo dodged it, losing his balance. His chair tipped backwards. He crashed to the floor.

The bearded iris was otherwise called the firebreather iris. He should have known better than to challenge you.

You towered over him. “You will help me as Snape intended. It’s bad enough I have to spend time with you. You will make yourself useful or that,” you pointed at the ashes of the firebreather iris, “is just the beginning of what I can do. There are poisonous plants around here like nightshade. I will not hesitate to use them and make it look like an accident.”

He looked at you as if he saw you for the first time. The fire was brighter in your eyes than the spark you had thrown. He was silent for a beat as he recalled what Theo warned him about nice girls. You never wanted to see them mad. They were always more clever and therefore more dangerous.

As much as he loved danger, he very much preferred to stay alive. Besides, things just got more interesting. He schooled his face to a bored expression. “Fine,” he said standing back up and dusting the dirt from his clothes and hair. “If you teach me that cool trick, I’ll help out.”

“Stick around and I’ll teach you a few things,” you nodded, satisfied. You tossed him a pair of gloves. “We’ll start here, plant boy.” He suppressed the smile that threatened to break across his features. It was fascinating how you snapped quickly back to your good natured self, as if you weren’t just threatening him moments earlier. If there was anything Mattheo loved, it was a challenge.

As he put on the gloves, he felt detention wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Threatened by the poison and lured in by the idea of learning plant magic, Mattheo had surprisingly been a helpful herbology partner.

Yes, he was stubborn and annoying. But at the end of the day, he was quick to pick up the steps, memorizing which fertilizer to use for what plant, and how much water each plant needed.

The weeks quickly passed and you found a comfortable rhythm. You just had to put up with those terrible lines.

“Are you a flower bed?” Mattheo asked, his face streaked with dirt as he hauled another bag of soil.

“What is it this time?” You rolled your eyes. You found it impossibly adorable and ridiculous how he managed to get dirt all over his face despite wearing gloves and other gardening gear.

“Let’s pretend you asked me why. ‘Cause I want to lay you down and get dirty,” Mattheo said with his signature smirk.

You tried not to laugh, but you couldn’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Mattheo considered it a win. “That seriously works for you?” You pointed in his general direction. “I’d rather choke on a cactus,” you beamed.

Mattheo chuckled, “then I want to be a cactus.”

“Oh why, because you’re a prick?” You retorted, shoveling more soil to the new pot.

“No, you can’t use these lines against me,” he said, narrowing his eyes, grabbing a handful of soil.

“Don’t be such a weeping willow about it,” you quipped. “And I swear if you throw that lump of soil, you’ll have to clean it up.”

“Why don’t we go straight to the cleaning part?” He teased instead, returning the soil. He grabbed the water hose nearby and turned it on, aiming it directly at you.

Before you could react, you felt a steady stream of water hit you, the cold shocking your entire system. “You really did it,” you muttered uselessly, releasing a string of curses as you gathered your wits about you.

You ran after him, but he was quick to deflect, running off the opposite direction, taking the hose with him. Five steps in, you slipped on the mud and landed on your back. The wind rushed out your lungs and you laid there recovering your breath.

“Salazar! Are you ok?” He asked, running towards you.

“Come here,” you spoke softly and he leaned in to hear you.

“My name is not Salazar,” you declared when he was close enough. “It’s an expressio—“ he tried to explain but in one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. The surprise was enough to send him down the floor. He slipped in the mud and joined you. You grabbed the hose from him and sprayed him with water.

He flailed for a few seconds before he caught purchase and rolled over you, yanking the hose away and then switching it off. You both found yourselves in hysterics, bodies shaking from the cold and laughter.

“I can’t believe it. You really laid me down and got me dirty,” you managed to say in between laughter.

“This is not what I meant. But if you want to know what I mean,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. But he was rendered speechless, the words and laughter faded in his throat.

He didn’t think it was possible. But up close, you were even more beautiful with your captivating eyes and kissable lips.

His intense gaze stole the laughter and breath from your lungs. You felt his heartbeat drum against yours, your breaths mingled with one another.

It sunk in then that he was on top of you, gazing at you like he wanted to do a hundred and one sinful things to you. He had a forest full of desires and you wanted to explore every corner of it. To go on an adventure with him. So you did.

You weren’t sure who started it, but the next second you found yourselves kissing each other. It was better than any euphoria plants could induce. His lips felt surprisingly soft and he started off tentative, seeing if you were okay with it. You just needed more and he quickly matched your pace, taking in as much of you as he could.

He was no longer gentle and he ran his hand through your mud streaked hair, holding you just where he needed you, deepening the kiss. You tugged on his hair in return and he rewarded you with a groan, his chest rumbling against you. He licked your lower lip, prompting you to open your mouth as his tongue darted in, exploring until you both needed to come up for air. Panting against each other.

“Why are you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You’re just a boy trying to get through detention,” you stated.

“Darling, my detention was only a week long,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “But this is your third week helping me.”

“You still haven’t taught me how to make fire with flowers yet,” he said, kissing you on the nose.

“You’re not afraid I’d poison you?” You narrowed your eyes, recalling your threat.

“I looked it up. The nightshade you mentioned that first week isn’t even poisonous. You never meant to poison me, dear.”

“But you fell for it, that’s what mattered,” you insisted.

“Maybe it’s you I’ve pollen for,” he quipped.

“You’re never gonna stop with the plant puns, aren’t you?”

“No, because you’re ivy and you’ve fully crept in my thoughts. Next, you can creep in my—” you kissed him then to shut him up. He didn’t seem to mind at all. You really had had enough of his silly plant puns, even though you couldn’t get enough of him.

You settled yourself in the seat beside him, ignoring his sarcasm. Opening your book, you took out your pen to write down the project steps when Theo gave you a page he prepared that contained a detailed breakdown of what the project entailed and different steps you could take.

You reached in your bag to fish out your pair of reading glasses. Theo tried to ignore how adorable it made you look. He was already hyper aware of everything about you and the way you made him feel, he did not need to add more fuel to that flame.

You read the document and you hated to admit it, but it was excellent. It was another point he had won against you. Embarrassment crept up your cheeks as he managed to be a step ahead of you. "Well, this is certainly helpful," you said, trying to keep the neutral tone in your voice. You tried to hide how it ruffled you, except your blush revealed it all.

Theo reacted with a cocky grin, "stick with me y/n and you may learn a thing or two."

"I do just fine on my own," you narrowed your eyes.

"Except we do have to work on this project together. See that," he said, pointing to the third step he outlined in his document. You leaned in to read the section he indicated, your shoulders pressed together. The scent of his woodsy cologne invaded your senses and it took you by surprise.

You shifted your gaze from the page to his face. You blinked in surprise, he was so near. For the first time, you noticed his long lashes. The way his wavy hair fell near his eyes and you were tempted to brush it back. Suddenly curious how soft it would feel between your fingers.

Then he turned his gaze to you, piercing blue eyes stared intently into yours. It took your breath away. He often had a bored expression that you had no idea he could be this focused.

Your lips parted a few centimeters as your mind tried to snap you out of it. You were keenly aware this stare was longer than what was polite, but you couldn't find your way out of this maze.

It achieved the opposite effect as Theo's eyes shifted to your lips. From this close, he noticed how full they were. They looked so soft, he wanted to reach out with his lips just to confirm he was right. Heat bloomed within you as your heart pounded faster in your chest.

Seeming to catch himself, he looked back up, a secret desire swirling into ocean blue of his eyes. He cleared his throat, the spell of the moment over. Your eyes snapped back to the page as he took a second to remember his words.

"We need at least two pairs of hands to complete this step," he finished his sentence from earlier.

You sighed, deflated. There was truly no other way. "You might be right."

"What's that?" Theo leaned in, "you think I'm right?"

You scoffed, "don't get used to it.

He lowered his voice as he whispered in your ear, "but you know, if you're going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first."

Your eyes widened as you opened your mouth to speak then closed it a few times, the words lost in the recesses of your mind. You stopped when you realized it made you look like a fish out of water. "You can't tell me what to do," you countered.

Theo continued, "pretty girl like you, I wouldn't say no."

You blinked, "you think I'm pretty?"

"I have eyes, y/n. I know you think you're better than me but come on. I'm not blind," he replied, waving his hand to dismiss the topic.

He brought the conversation back to the project, dejected by your horror at the thought of going out with him. But with the way you looked at him earlier, he could have sworn you felt the same way he did.

Theo was uncertain and he hated not knowing. Part of his academic prowess lent itself to his innate curiosity about things. He shifted slightly in his seat so his leg brushed briefly against yours and he enjoyed the electric rush from the contact.

It was another attempt that ended in flames. Mattheo breathed hard as the final spray of extinguisher coated the kitchen in white, until all that was left was the charred remains of his pride.

Colourful curses spilled from his downturned mouth that had long lost its usual smirk. With his other hand, he gripped his wand as tightly as he held on to this unbeatable challenge.

“You know, I wouldn’t be mad if you used your magic to make me a cake,” you told him, not for the first time. “You get a free pass.”

“But you can’t have a muggle birthday with a cake made from magic,” he argued, not for the first time either. “I want to prove that I’m more than just some wizard.” He admits, his voice drifting quietly towards the end of his sentence. His vision blurred as images from the past haunted him.

It was never easy being the son of the dark lord, and it was even worse when the war broke out. It was devastating to hear the cries of someone you had once laughed with. You can prepare for war all you want and still never know what you’re getting into until you’ve lived through it - bruised and bloodied. He swears his heart is still beating, but something in him died during that time.

Save for minor conveniences, like locating his misplaced sketchbook or reheating coffee that had gone cold, Mattheo Riddle had sworn off magic and exiled himself to the muggle world after the war.

He simply wanted to see the world, to find things that were more magical than what wands could conjure. And travel he did. He visited ancient sites, growing an unexpected fascination for muggle history in ways he never would have just by looking at old books in Hogwarts.

It was him and his sketchbook against the world. Pages stitched together to remind him of his adventures.

If he looked back, he’d laugh at how funny life could be. He had grown up in a manor, attended balls in great halls, and yet his life had changed at a simple, ordinary cafe.

It was there that he met you, his barista. There was a warmth in your smile and a twinkle in your eyes that saw him as someone whole, someone worthy. No one had looked at him like that in ages. He nearly forgotten how it felt.

Of course, he quickly recovered from his gaped mouth and stunned silence with a flirty remark. You were nothing at all like the girls who kept his bed warm through his travels, fun yet forgettable. They often asked him to stay, but he was always insistent on the next location to cross off his map. The next scenery to fill his sketchbook.

Looking at you, however, he wanted to stay. Even if you didn’t ask him. It was strange, he thought. For the first time, the idea of staying didn’t scare him. If anything, he felt he was getting into a whole new adventure.

And Salazar, you had exceeded his expectations. Five minute conversations at the cafe soon turned into lunches together. Dinners turned to nights stayed over, secrets spilled in tearful confessions, laughter shared over inside jokes, and all the peaceful days in between.

He told you about his past, shared his darkness, while looking into your eyes each time with the wild hope that you would still look at him like you did the first time. Like he belonged. Like he mattered. Like he was someone you could love. And you did.

You still do. So damn it, the least he could do was bake you a cake for your birthday.

“You are already more than a wizard,” you approach him, standing up your toes to toussle his curls and bring his attention back to the present. “And you’re already sweeter than the cake,” you replied, grinning, “so why don’t I just have you for dessert?”

His signature smirk is back as he turns around so that your back is to the kitchen counter and he places his arms on either side of you, locking you in. He leans closer and you smell a hint of his soap and cologne tinged with the scent of burnt bread.

“Oh, I am most definitely your dessert. I’m your after party,” he says in a low voice, making your heart race and your toes curl. “But we’ve got to have something else to show our friends, huh?”

He is places a soft kiss on your neck and you melt into him. He brings you closer to him for a hug, his hands tracing the small of your back.

“Matt, I swear just one more of that teasing and I will rip your clothes off,” you threaten him, and he damn well knew you could make good on that threat.

He chuckles, “maybe that’s what I want.” He raises an eyebrow as he leans back to look at your face again and you exhale, both disappointed and relieved at the distance.

“But what I want more,” he continues, “is to make you a cake.”

“Okay, if you won’t use magic then, would you let me help you?” you offer as a compromise.

“That wouldn’t be fair then,” he replies.

Your brows furrow, “why not?”

“Because you are the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me,” he confesses, his eyes sincere despite his usual smirk.

You slap his shoulder playfully, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. “We’ll be here in the kitchen until my next birthday if we don’t get a move on things.”

He relents, grabbing your apron by the fridge and helping you put it on. “Aye aye captain.”

“I’ll get diabetes from your words alone, you know?” You say, gathering the ingredients.

“And I know just the cure,” he remarks, “if you don’t want sweet then we’ll have a dose of spice.”

Later at the party, in between pizza and wine, you exchange smirks. Somewhere within your fridge sits a birthday cake made without magic.

After an hour of flour-covered sex, you both figured that the non-magical cake didn’t have to made by your hands specifically. And so his promise had been fulfilled with cake from your favourite place, and it was the best thing Mattheo had bought that month.

Alt summary: Mattheo Riddle tries and fails to be horny lol.

Mattheo Riddle always minded his own damn business. So why did his gaze keep returning to you? To call you gorgeous would have been a waste of syllables. No, there was something enchanting about you that went far beyond what any word could describe.

Not that he was ever good with words anyway. He'd be much better at showing you. Hands pinned on your sides, your back pressed against a wall, while his kisses told you everything he thought about you. And - no, he shook his head. He had no business having his blood rush to his jeans in public.

He cleared his throat and picked up his rum and coke, the cool condensation running down his fingers, as he turned his eyes away from you. It was a test of wills he was already sure he'd fail. He was not one for acing tests. He had dropped out of university for fuck's sake, he scoffed before he brought the drink to his lips, letting the bittersweet taste wash away his spicy desires. He was supposed to be blowing off steam here at the bar, it was not a night for sharing his bed.

But Mattheo Riddle was nothing more than an opportunist. Giving up false pretenses, he looked at you again, the gears in his head spinning. And what do you know? Someone else had sidled up beside you, offering a drink, which you outright refused with a shake of your head, a look of discomfort overcoming your features.

He couldn't help but smirk when the other bloke couldn't take the hint, his stubborn arse still sat firmly on the seat beside you. Now there was the perfect opportunity to blow off steam. He downed his drink with one final gulp and strode over to you, fist clenching in anticipation as he prepared to be your knight in shining armour.

Yet he was only halfway through when he saw your fist fly, punching the guy on the nose. Curious patrons looked toward the scene. For a moment, conversation hushed while upbeat music continued thumping through the speaker. His head flew back with the impact and he covered his nose on instinct, wincing when he touched it, his hand soaking wet with blood. With a final look of pain and embarrassment, he stormed off and left the bar. A sadistic grin lit up Mattheo's features.

Everyone had gone back to their drinks and partying by the time he reached you.

"Want to be the next one?" You asked him playfully, flexing your fist in warning.

He laughed in surprise, you were a lot more delightful than he thought. "I can take a rejection," he replied, clutching his chest dramatically as if he had been shot. "I'm a lot cuter than that guy though," he said, pointing in the direction he had exited from.

"Can't be rejected if you don't ask," you shrugged your shoulders and picked up your drink, a rum and coke, just like his, nd sipped it.

"Okay, what's 278 x 45?"

"Smart ass," you exclaimed, shaking your head, intrigued by this stranger.

He motions to the waiter, "another rum and coke," he orders and waits.

"Not going to buy me a drink, aren't you?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he smiled mischieviously. "Just drinking here, it's a pretty comfy seat," he said patting down the hard wooden chair. "Besides, I think we've established. I'm not going to end up like that guy."

"So it won't matter to you if I sat over there instead?" You motioned to the other end of the bar where a few seats were vacant.

"You know, I heard the chair over there is quite comfortable too. I might just try it for myself," he replied.

Just then, the bartender handed him his order and you took this opportunity to study him. He has curly hair that fell in waves near his eyes, just messy enough to be sexy without being unkempt. His sharp jaw gave him a serious look while his eyes looked bright and alert.

He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt and jeans, that looked casual yet stylish, and he sat with the relaxed confidence of a man who belonged everywhere he went.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the conversation. "And how would you know that chair was also comfortable?" You looked back at the corner you had pointed to earlier.

"Because it would be the chair right beside you," he stated.

You shook your head, smiling. "I'm Y/n."

"Mattheo Riddle," he said, matching your smile.

Movement in the corner of your eye brought you back to the present. You had been spotted. Your breathing grows ragged as your muscles stiffened. Tears pricked your eyes, but you paused when he raised his hands, signaling he was not a threat.

"Hey hey, it's okay," he said, his voice so gentle you forgot for a moment you were at a haunted house. Slowly, he removed his mask, tousled hair spilling down his forehead. You looked over his face, eyes bright and jaw sharp. He's cute.

He approached you cautiously as he lowered himself to meet you at eye level. "I'm Mattheo," he said, offering you a small smile. You introduced yourself, trying to find your voice.

“Let’s get out of here, okay?” He asked, his voice soft, as he extended his hand towards you.

You eyed it suspiciously, face burning with shame, “you probably think I’m a coward.”

“I may be wearing a mask, but those dolls,” he said, pointing to the shelf across you, “also freak me out. This whole thing is designed to frighten you, so of course you’re scared.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

A small smile broke across your features, “but you work here for fun.”

His eyebrow quirked at your remark, “and how can you tell?”

You leaned in closer to the space between his neck and shoulder. You sniffed to confirm your first impression, “expensive cologne,” you said pointedly. “You’re not in it for the money, you’re here because it’s fun.”

He tilts his head so you’re looking at him again. As your eyes met, you realized how much closer he was. You could feel his warm breath on your face as he smiled at you to confirm you were right. His heat radiated towards you, melting the chill down your spine. You felt yourself relax in the presence of this stranger and it sparked your curiosity. “Why do you enjoy it?”

“Okay, Sherlock,” he said, moving back. His sudden distance echoed in the space between you and you already missed how close he was, how safe you felt with him. You nearly reached your hand out. Instead your vision went dark, “I’ll show you why.”

You felt his arms around your head and delicious jolts of electricity moved through you as he adjusted the straps to your face, fitting it to you. “Be my parter in crime?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye, hand outstretched once again. 

“However could I refuse?” You asked, gesturing to the mask that was already on your face. Your heart sped up, in excitement this time as you took his hand and rose up off the ground. He brought you towards him, bodies flushed together as he leaned in to whisper. “You’re a monster out to hunt your prey. You’re in control here, now go show them just what you’re made of!” he said, by way of a pep talk.

You were made of jelly legs and rosy cheeks. That was probably not what he meant. You were grateful this time when he stepped away. You took a moment to gather yourself, channeling your inner fire.

He brought you to another corner of the room where you could hide together and scare unsuspecting visitors. The first time you both leapt out from your hiding space, you screamed at the same time the guests screamed, equally frightened by their terror. Mattheo wrapped an arm around your waist instinctively, to remind you that you were perfectly safe.

When they ran off, still screaming, you found yourself laughing off the adrenaline and how silly it all was. “Fine, I get it,” you said after a while, when you lost count of just how many you had managed to scare. “This is fun,” you grinned beneath your mask. While he couldn’t see you, Mattheo grinned back. 

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand once again as he led you through the haunted house. You were fearless this time, managing to scare other actors in masks. The hallways were filled with yours and Mattheo’s laughter, adding a layer of mischief to all the screams around you.

Before you knew it, you reached the end of the haunted house and you were not yet ready to say goodbye to this stranger. This could be the start of something. You led the way this time, shoving his shoulders back into the wall. He laughed in surprise, his eyes searching yours.

It felt good to conquer your fears, but you couldn’t have done it without Mattheo’s help. You took the mask off in one swift motion as you strode towards him. You needed to conquer your fears all by yourself and there was one thing that only the fearless version of yourself could do. You clutched the mask as you steeled yourself, smirking. As you closed the distance, your lips came crashing down on his.

You felt him freeze for a second before he smiled against your lips. His hands found its way to the back of your head and neck as he pulled you closer towards him. Your hand snaked through his curls, they were even softer than you imagined and you tugged at them. He moaned in response, of course he was a masochist. Your lips moved in sync as if you had been practicing for years. And of all the things that took your breath away today, this was your favorite.

When you both came up for air, you admired your handiwork - his messy hair and crumpled shirt. “That was to say thank you, for helping me,” you explained.

“Well, then I’ll give you more reasons to thank me,” he declared, his hand still playing with your hair. “Have dinner with me?”  

Your brow furrowed, “don’t you have to finish the rest of your shift?”

He grinned, “I don’t actually work here, I was just a knobhead who wanted to scare the actors.”

“So you don’t just conquer your fears, you fight fire with fire,” you nodded. “A knobhead, in short.” 

He raised his hands with a scoff, “hey, at least I’m self aware.”

“Can’t hold that against you,” you agreed.

“I know other things you could hold against me,” he quipped.

“Hey,” you smacked his shoulder, “at least buy me dinner first.”

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

Never mind that it was also Valentine's week. It had always been one of your favorite celebrations, not just because of the romance, but because of the way love could also be celebrated with family and friends. You always planned something memorable, except for this year. Not even when you had your boyfriend, Jess Mariano, to celebrate with.

All you could do was roll your eyes at roses and heart shaped decorations you saw outdoors. This year, it seemed, your Valentine were textbooks and cheap coffee in your living room. In your darkest moments, you joked you'd rather be struck by an arrow to end this misery. Cupid be damned.

You sighed, re-reading another sentence, trying to make sense of letters and words that started dancing before you, mocking you, when a voice startled you.

"Baby, dinner's ready," Jess announced as he walked into the living room of your shared apartment. His eyebrows creased in concern at the sight of your unkempt hair, faded pyjamas, and deep frown. His beautiful mess, he thought, as he moved closer, throwing the kitchen towel over his shoulder.

"Come on," he said gently as if speaking to a child, taking the book out from your hand and onto the desk. "Your book will still be there for you after we eat."

You protest stubbornly, "my grades won't be if I-" you argued, but Jess knew better than to let you continue.

"Y/n l/n, if you say one more word," he warned, voice lowered in a tone he only reserved for you, "I will not hesitate to-"

You opened your mouth and he smirked. "Don't try me pretty girl, I warned you," he said just as he lowered himself to pick you up and throw you over his shoulders, one arm wrapped securely around your legs. Just like you were the kitchen towel.

You yelped in surprise as gravity shifted and you felt the blood rush to your brain. You hate to admit it, but it was better than all the cups of coffee that fried your nerves earlier. Not that you'd admit it, your boyfriend's ego was already inflated enough. If it gets any bigger, you'll have to start charging it rent.

"Jess Mariano," you grit through your teeth, "you better put me down right now or I swear I -" your words froze in your throat when you felt him smack your bottom with his free hand.

"Whatever you say babe," he said unfazed, voice laced with arrogance. He knew the effect he had on you, the way your heart raced and the heat that spread through your core.

You started pounding your fists on his back when he finally brought you back down, one arm wrapped around your back to steady you. "Surprise!" He exclaimed, using his free hand to gesture at the spread he prepared on the table.

You were speechless as your eyes took in the details. You had been so wrapped up in your studies that you didn't realize just how busy Jess had been at the kitchen. He had your favorite food spread out with little heart confetti adorning the table.

Candles were lit, flowers stood tall in a vase, and there was wine to top off the delectable meal set out in front of you. You looked between Jess and the dinner setup, stunned.

"What happened to all those words you wanted to say earlier? No more threats for me?" He raised an eyebrow, teasing.

"I -" you started, "you -"

His smirk grew to a wide grin, the kind that made his eyes sparkle, and you couldn't help but grin back. And just like that, the weight of the world was off your chest.

You were just a twentysomething about to have dinner with the love of your life. The man who made you dinner and lit candles for you, just because it's romantic.

"Happy Valentine's baby," Jess said, all the sarcasm and attitude melted from his voice. It always caught you off guard how sweet and sensitive he could be beneath all the snark and sarcasm. You were exactly like the candle then, melting into the sweetness of the moment. It was going to be a Valentine's as magical as the others, perhaps even more.

"You've been working so hard, you deserve a special treat,' he said, brushing your hair back, caressing your face as he leaned in to kiss you gently on your lips.

"It's me, of course, I'm the treat," he said as he looked back at you, his signature smirk back in place. "All this," he said, gesturing to the table, "is just secondary."

"Well I'm glad we've established that," you replied laughing. Pride bloomed in Jess' chest having made you laugh after witnessing the stressful week you had.

"Jess, I don't know how to thank you," tears suddenly welled up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the stress and sweetness. "Sorry I couldn't plan-"

"Hey hey," Jess pulled you in for a hug and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "You deserve to be taken care of. I wanted to do this for you, there's nothing to apologize for," he said as he rubbed comforting circles on your back, letting you cry as much as you needed to, because he knew how cathartic it was for you.

"You must think I'm crazy," you sniffled when your tears ran dry. "One second I was laughing and the next I'm crying."

Jess released you, running his thumb along your cheeks to catch the last few tears. "Oh I know you're crazy, and that's exactly why I love you."

You laughed then, playfully hitting his shoulder. "And they say like attracts like," you remarked before leaning in closer for a quick kiss. "I love you too," you said as you looked into his eyes.

"Now let's get into this treat," you said, sliding into the dining chair.

Jess nodded, settling into his seat. "And afterwards, you can have this other treat," he gestured to himself.

"Oh get over yourself, Mariano," you rolled your eyes.

"I could, but you'd never get over me," he shot back.

"What makes you so sure?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Not after tonight's treat, you won't," he said, his voice low and mischievous, a vow he was sure to fulfill before the day ended.