Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Late-Night Library Rendezvous

Warnings: FLUFF

Summary: It's late, and you're both in the library studying for upcoming exams. Mattheo, who rarely studies, tries to distract you with small, subtle touches — brushing your fingers as he passes you a book you needed.

Words: 1110

The library was nearly empty, the only sound the occasional rustle of pages and the soft crackle of the candles flickering in the corners of the room. You sat at one of the long wooden tables, your textbooks spread out in front of you, attempting to focus on the charms notes in front of you. With the exams fast approaching, every minute felt crucial, but the growing tiredness in your eyes made it hard to concentrate.

You heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps before you felt a presence beside you.

Mattheo Riddle, of course.

He slid into the seat across from you, his usual nonchalant expression in place. Despite his reputation for rarely studying, you knew he'd somehow gotten the same idea as you: stay late in the library and cram as much knowledge into your head as possible. Or, at least, that was your goal. Mattheo, however, had other plans.

He picked up one of your textbooks, glancing at it with exaggerated boredom before leaning forward, his shoulder brushing against yours. "Is this all you're doing? This is the most boring thing I've ever seen."

You looked up from your notes, arching an eyebrow. "I'm trying to study, Mattheo. You know, like a responsible student."

"Mm, responsible," he muttered, tossing your book aside as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Sounds boring."

He seemed perfectly comfortable with his head just inches away from yours, and despite yourself, you could feel your heart flutter slightly. You couldn't help but notice the teasing glint in his dark eyes, but you also saw the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren't looking.

Mattheo nudged your arm with his elbow. "Need help with something?" he asked in a low voice, feigning innocence.

You chuckled and shook your head. "I'm good, thanks."

He grinned, and in that moment, the mischievousness in his expression reminded you of the small, playful side he often hid behind that cool façade. Before you could dive back into your notes, he gently brushed his fingers against yours as he slid one of your books over to you.

Your skin tingled from the brief contact, and you looked up in surprise, your pulse quickening as his gaze met yours with that knowing smirk. "I was just passing the book," he said innocently, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth couldn't help but lift. "I'm trying to focus, Mattheo," you sighed, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face.

"I know," he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice gone. He leaned in even closer, and this time, his presence felt different—more intimate, like he was fully aware of the distance between the two of you. "But you're not really concentrating, are you? You're distracted."

You tried to brush it off. "I'm fine," you muttered, focusing on the page in front of you, but your thoughts were elsewhere now. The quiet proximity of him was too much, too distracting.

Mattheo was never one to shy away from a challenge. He gave a low chuckle and rested his chin on the edge of your desk, looking up at you as if he could read your every thought. "You're thinking about me, aren't you?"

You tried to resist, but the truth slipped out before you could stop it. "Maybe."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with your admission. He shifted even closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours again, this time staying there for a moment longer. "See? I told you."

You looked at him, a little breathless. "I'm not supposed to be distracted, Mattheo."

His smirk softened, and his eyes softened too, just slightly, in a way that caught you off guard. "Okay," he said, his voice lower, more sincere. "I'll stop. For now."

You bit your lip, trying to focus, but the conversation had shifted. There was a warmth to the moment now, a quiet tension that had nothing to do with studying. You couldn't resist the pull of curiosity, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, "So, what was your childhood like?"

Mattheo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, surprisingly, he spoke. "It was... complicated," he said quietly, his voice laced with a quiet sadness you hadn't expected. "I didn't have the easiest time growing up. My family—well, let's just say they weren't exactly the most nurturing."

You nodded sympathetically, noticing how his usual guarded demeanor slipped just a little as he shared this with you. "I'm sorry," you said softly, reaching for his hand without thinking. "That must have been really hard."

He met your gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something—vulnerability. Something you rarely saw from him. "Yeah, it was. But it made me who I am now." He gave a small, wry smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And maybe I'm not the best at this whole 'feelings' thing, but... I've learned to manage."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I think you're doing better than you think."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The library, once filled with the hum of quiet study, felt like a distant memory. The world outside of that little corner seemed to disappear. You and Mattheo sat there, talking about your childhoods, laughing softly at silly memories you'd buried away. His usual teasing nature was gone, replaced by something gentler, something you never expected to find with him.

And as the hours ticked by, you found yourself forgetting about your books completely. The only thing that mattered was the warmth of Mattheo's hand in yours, the quiet intimacy that had built between the two of you.

Finally, Mattheo broke the silence, his voice light and teasing once again. "Okay, I think you've distracted me enough for one night."

You glanced at the time and sighed. "We should probably get back to studying, huh?"

He looked at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Nah. I think we've earned a break."

And with that, he leaned in again, this time for a gentle kiss on your cheek, as if to seal the moment. His lips lingered, and for the first time that night, you realized that sometimes, it wasn't the studying that mattered—it was the quiet moments like this, with him, that you would remember most.