#you write Mattheo so effortlessly

[pizzaapeteer]

are you kiddddding me!?!? This was incredible - I’m speechless!! I loved every line, every word, everything about this fic 😭 Im obsessed with this and now you !!!! 💓

“If I kiss you, that’s it then, your mine.” PLS IM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS BOY, BFF TO LOVERS IS ONE OF MY FAV TROPES IM CRYIN

cold comfort - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place.

word count: 4k

soundtrack: between the sheets - imogen heap

a/n: wait this is kind of a saga! it just kept flowing and flowing, but i'm obsessed with it! hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

When Matteo heard that a first year in Charms cast a spell that backfired so badly it rendered Hogwarts unable to regulate the temperature in the castle, he'd nearly spit out his firewhiskey. The mental image of Flitwick, McGonagall and all of his other professors frantically trying to fix it to no avail gave him sick pleasure as he thought about all the times they'd looked down on him because of his last name. Fuck 'em he thought. Serves them right.

He'd enjoyed his twisted happiness for several days until an unexpected early spring snowstorm rolled off the mountains, leaving the castle a veritable chamber of cold. For two days now it had nearly been cold enough for him to see the white puff of his breath inside. As others scrambled for a place in front of the fireplaces, his mood darkened, making him even more sullen than usual as talk of canceling classes and sending everyone home began to circulate; home wasn't really a place he was looking to go back to.

So now he was sat in the Great Hall in a large sweatshirt with his hood drawn up around his face, the standard dress code long since forgotten, one hand wound tightly around his second cup of black tea in an effort to warm himself while the other rubbed his tired face as he listened to the incessant chatter of his friends.

He was quietly zoned out until he caught a glimpse of you walking through the large entryway. Everyone in the castle looked in disarray: mismatched sweaters, hats and gloves in haphazard layers to stay warm, but not you, you looked like a perfect snowbunny. You were wearing tight black leggings, fur-lined boots, a thick sweater and a headband to keep your ears warm that complimented your hair. Anyone looking closely enough would see the imperceptible tug of his lips into what could almost be called a smile as you made your way to the Slytherin table and slid onto the bench next to him.

It wasn't lost on him that his best friend was beautiful. He was well and painfully aware of the fact and had been for as long as he'd known you. But, despite the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind at the sight of you, he was determined to keep you at an arm's length. Simply put, you were too good for him, too pure. You had a smile that radiated a warmth that he could feel even now, you were caring and compassionate, smart and sweet, quick with a hug and a kind word. You were everything that he wasn't. He told himself, constantly, on repeat, that it was better to have you in his life at all than to fuck it up trying for anything more.

He subtly traced your face through the corner of his eye: your long lashes, the curve of your smile, and your warm, rosy cheeks, and just like no one but you could see his smile, no one but him noticed the tiredness in your eyes. He nudged his shoulder into yours.

"Alright?" he mumbled.

You glanced up at him, his groggy morning voice and the way his curls stuck out from his hood making you feel like you'd swallowed a pixie. You felt yourself flush, your exhaustion wearing down the mask you normally kept up around him, determined to never let him know how you really felt.

"Just tired s'all" you smiled kindly, nudging him back, coaxing what could almost be another smile out of him as you met each other's eyes. "I can't sleep for shit. No matter what I do, I can't get warm, even under a pile of blankets, in my fuzziest pajamas and a jumper" you shivered.

"Skin to skin is really the only solution" Pansy chimed in with a smirk as she sank further into Draco's arms and you rolled your eyes at the two of them. She had snuck out of your room the last few nights, leaving you not only cold, but alone too.

"Couldn't agree more" Theo said, smirking, before lifting an eyebrow at you "ready, able and at your service, babe" he said, opening his arms to you as you swatted him away, laughing at his attempt to flirt with you. He smiled widely and laughed back before glancing over your shoulder at Matteo whose eyes were narrowed in his direction.

"What, mate, it's not like you're any help, what with your strict 'no sleepover policy'" Theo chirped at him, referring to the fact that regardless of how many girls came in and out of Mattheo's bed, (which was a sizable number) not one had ever stayed the night, always kicked out in the end, despite the fact that they hoped to be the one to break his streak.

You turned to see Mattheo shooting daggers at Theo.

"S'my bed" he muttered, "more than happy to have someone in it for awhile, but a lad's got to get his rest, yeah?" he laughed and the guys laughed back.

You faked a bitter smile, returning your attention to your breakfast in front of you. You weren't naive but that didn't mean you had to sit here and listen to this, you nibbled a piece of dry toast, the mental image of Mattheo with other girls making you nauseous.

Matteo's smile fell from his face as he watched your reaction, and wished for the thousandth time that he could tell you that he made that rule because of you. Because if he couldn't have you, then he wasn't going to waste time getting closer than necessary with anyone else. The nights he spent alone his bed his punishment for who he was, the fact that he'd never be good enough for you.

You stood abruptly and shot him a small smile as you moved to leave. He said your name quietly and reached for your hand, but you were gone before you realized it.

That night you crawled into cold sheets that felt almost damp with a chill. Despite the pile of blankets and your thick pajamas, you couldn't get warm or comfortable, tossing and turning as small shivers ran through your body and Pansy's words echoed in your head. You were desperate for warmth at this point, desperate for a good night's sleep, but there was only one bed you wanted to crawl into, and it was with the only person who refused to share it.

Surely he would break his rule for you, for his best friend? you thought; things were different between you two. But were you willing to try, to embarrass yourself if he said no? You rolled around for another hour before climbing out of bed.

Mattheo was in a fitful sleep, which was not unusual for him; his nights were frequented by nightmares, leaving him constantly groggy and grumpy, but when he heard your voice, he was sure he was dreaming, a good dream, a great dream at that.

"Mattheo" you were whispering.

He turned to see you standing at the other side of his bed and was incredibly confused, until you moved to get in... and then he panicked. He panicked because he had thoughtfully planned every way to avoid this exact situation from the moment he met you, knowing that at this proximity he wouldn't be able to control himself. And he was right. You were close, too close. He could smell your shampoo, like warm vanilla, and his hands moved on autopilot towards you, his fingers twitching to bring you closer to him before he stopped himself, inches short.

"Whatareyoudoing?!" he whisper-mumbled in frustration, the words coming out angrier than he'd intended at the range of emotions he was feeling.

You froze, your heart shattering. He was angry. He didn't want you here, he didn't want anyone here. He was going to kick you out and you'd be mortified, your friendship would never be the same, you'd taken things too far. You felt a scratch in your throat as tears threatened to spring forward.

Even in the thick darkness, Mattheo could see that he'd upset you, able to read your expressions better than his own. He could see the wobble of your bottom lip as your wide eyes looked at him and he hated himself and the situation all the more for it.

"Please Matty, m'just so cold, I can't sleep" you whispered, using the nickname that was strictly forbidden for anyone but you that made him melt.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply, trying in his sleepy state to figure out a solution as he felt his strength waning; the figment of his every daydream was literally begging to be in his bed and he was certain he couldn't trust himself, certain that this only ended one way.

You took in his rigid form and his frustration and began to backpedal, moving to leave.

"M'sorry, it's okay, I'll go, maybe Theo—"

And you didn't even get a chance to finish your thought before you felt his large, warm hands wrap around your middle and tug you across the bed and into his chest, quickly but gently.

"C'mere" he mumbled as he settled you against him, chest to chest, your head tucked under his.

Your arms wound around him naturally, your legs intertwining, the two of you fitting together effortlessly, perfectly, like puzzle pieces. You let out a small giggle as you nuzzled into him, making yourself comfortable.

He could feel your warm breath as you let out a contented sigh, the innocent sound somehow sinful to his ears as he willed his mind to stop wandering in every direction it wanted to as he felt every dip and curve of your body against his own despite the layers of clothing between you. He kept his hands at your back, unmoving, for a moment unsure if he was even doing this right, unable to remember the last time he'd cuddled with anyone.

"Thank you" you whispered, your voice already sounding relaxed and sleepy to him as your fingers traced patterns on his back, a lavish feeling that released every ounce of tension he had been holding.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as his arms hugged you to him firmly and you felt a sensation like melted honey spreading through every inch of you, as he rubbed your back, warming you from your heart to the tips of your toes for the first time in days as you fell into a hazy sleep.

The first thought Mattheo had was that he felt heavy, his limbs felt weighted and his mind felt calm. Rested he realized after a moment. His brain was slowly turning back on, piecing together the dream he'd had, it was a dream, right? You, in his bed, in his arms, pressed against him, nuzzling into him, contented and happy. It felt so real, real enough that he could still smell you, the intoxicating scent of your shampoo, could still feel you in his arms, could still ghost his fingers down your back. You hummed in response and his eyes fluttered open only to realize it was definitely not a dream.

You were here, with him, in his bed, had been all night, your body still wound perfectly in his, neither of you having let go of one another or moved an inch; if anything, it was like you melded together even further. Fuck this is nice he thought as he looked down at you curled into his chest. This was everything, everything he'd hoped it would be. He wanted to stay like this for as long as physically possible, the looming fear of it having to come to an end already upon him.

Suddenly, a pillow came flying onto the bed, askewing the thick curtains that draped around his four-poster.

"Oi wake up, will you, Riddle? Shit, it's almost noon and we've got practice in an hour" came a shout as a cacophony of voices followed behind it into the room.

You stirred in Mattheo's arms just as a hand reached through his curtains to pull them aside.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Days" Blaise drawled, annunciating every word as the others gathered around him.

"I knew it, I fucking knew it"

"Let's gooooooo!!"

"Mattttyyyy!!!" each of them shouted as the jumped up and down in excitement at the sight of you in his bed.

"Fuck off" he said, grasping the pillow they'd thrown at him and hucking it back at them, causing them to disperse as they fell apart with laughter and more cheers.

He felt you shift next to him and looked back to see that you had pulled the covers over your head, just the tips of your fingers and the top of your head visible. He yanked his curtain closed before leaning back towards you and gently grasping the blanket near your hands to pull it back.

While not the wakeup you had hoped for nor expected, Mattheo pulling back the blankets with a soft sleep-ridden smile on his face and his rumpled curls to see you was a mental image that you were sure you would think about every day for the rest of your life. You were swimming in a sea of him, engulfed in his smell, like pine and amber, and you were delightfully warm; he was going to have to pry you out of here.

"Hi" he said quietly in his morning voice.

"Hi" you whispered back.

You looked perfect. He may have thought about waking up to you, with significantly less clothing on and significantly fewer onlookers, but he'd never considered how beautiful you would look, your eyes not all the way open yet, your hair spread like a blanket of its own and fuck if he didn't want to kiss you. His eyes drifted lazily to your lips and back again and he swore he saw a flash of something in your expression in response, curiosity, or perhaps confusion.

"I should—" he started, shaking his head clear.

"—Yeah, of course! Sorry, I didn't realize the time—"

"No problem, take your time—" he said as he rolled out of bed to more cheers and shouts as he shepherded his friends out the door to give you some privacy.

You pulled the sheets back over your heard, burying yourself further into his blankets, reveling in the warmth his body had left before squealing with excitement at the way your day had started.

You were afraid that things would be awkward, but surprisingly they weren't, you were in your easy, unbothered rhythm together. Besides the giggles and teasing from your friends, nothing had changed... including the temperature. As the day went on the warmth you had woken up in faded and you felt progressively more cold settling into your bones, already dreading the cold night ahead of you.

Spending the night with Mattheo was a nice reprieve, but not something you intended to make a habit of, certain you didn't want to live through more teasing nor get your hopes up trying to read into how intimate it had felt.

You were leaving dinner, arms wound around yourself at the chill in the air when you heard a voice calling for you. You turned to see Mattheo jogging after you.

"Hey!" he called.

"Hey" you smiled back, glancing up at him as he fell into step with you.

He smiled readily back at you; he'd seemed peppier today, letting the ceaseless taunting roll of his back with a shrug of his shoulders, the unwillingness to turn everything into an argument or fistfight very uncharacteristic of him.

"Yeah, so—" he started to say, as he looked around for a moment and carded his hand through his hair. He took in how cold you looked and all he could think was how badly he wanted to fix it. "—About last night or whatever...I know it's still fucking frigid, if you wanted to come by or sleep with, er, stay with — in my — yeah, you could do it again if you wanted?"

You couldn't hide the smile the spread widely across your face, nor the way your eyes sparkled mischievously as you stopped walking to face him.

"Mattheo Riddle, are you asking me to sleep with you?" you said flirtatiously, leaning towards him.

He stopped breathing. Your proximity and the words coming out of your mouth snatched every last breath and every last thought he'd had.

"Don't fuck around with me" he said through smirked lips, his voice low and measured, holding a hint of playfulness, but also a warning.

You laughed softly back but didn't back down.

"I'll see you tonight" you said as you continued your path back to the common room, leaving him gazing after you.

Your new outfit that night wasn't lost on him. You were wearing a form-fitting pair of soft pants and a matching top that hung slightly off your shoulder, revealing the lace of a bralette. You crawled into bed beside him, smiling contentedly and curling into his arms like you were married, like this was the most normal, easy, simple thing in the world, and yet it still took him a minute to really comprehend the situation, to relax.

He barely had a minute to catch his breath before Blaise shouted across the room, "Goodnight Theo!"

"Night, Blaise!" Theo shouted back.

"Night, Enz!" Blaise said again.

"G'night!" Enzo replied.

Mattheo rubbed a hand over his face at the antic.

"I swear they don't do this every—" he started.

"—Night, Draco!" Blaise shouted.

"And Pans!" Theo chimed in.

"Full fuckin' house in here" Enzo said.

"Goodnight!" she giggled back.

"Goodnight Mattheo..." Blaise said slowly, drawling out his name.

Mattheo didn't reply.

"GOODNIGHT YN" they each shouted.

You laughed, "Goodnight!" you said back and they cheered as Mattheo turned and buried his head into your shoulder in embarrassment, letting his body weight fall on you in exasperation.

You laughed at his reaction, instinctively bringing a hand to tangle in his curls and hold him to you before you could stop yourself. It was decidedly more intimate than anything that had happened between you before, but it had just felt right, something about pulling him into you, comforting him. You paused after a moment, catching yourself... running your hands through his hair should not make you feel this way; suddenly, you were very very warm.

As if he could sense your reaction, he lifted his head just slightly to meet your eyes, his face inches from yours.

He had to feel your heart hammering in your chest at this proximity, right? As he searched your face, it felt like a veil had come down between the two of you after a night spent together on top of years spent dancing around one another like you didn't know exactly what this could be. On cue, the room around you fell deeply silent as the others settled into sleep.

Your hand slowly dropped to trace his cheek.

"YN" he said in a low voice, cautious, guarded, his tone roughly translating to "Don't".

"What?" you whispered.

"I can't" he said.

"Can't what, Matty?"

The nickname made his heart beat double-time, an impossible feat based on the way it was already drumming loudly in his ears.

"You know what" he said sternly.

"Why?" you asked, innocently, the tips of your fingers moving to trace his jaw, nearing his lips before his hand grasped yours firmly, stopping you, making you jump slightly.

His body was rigid and taught, his expression was serious, maybe even threatening to anyone but you, but all you could see was the look in his eyes that were burning with something else, something much more passionate than anger.

His words were strained, like it was a physical effort to form them.

"I. Can't. Alright? Just let it go" he said as his eyes continued to beg otherwise.

Your next words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them, might have missed them if his entire being wasn't fine tuned to hear the exact phrase.

"Kiss me" you said, somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He caught your eye and his breath caught in his throat at the way you were looking at him: your eyes wide, soft and focused on him, your chest visibly rising and falling underneath him, your body pressing against him as you wiggled your hand out of his grasp to trace his cheek. Surely he couldn't have heard you right?

"I'm not—I can't— that's not a good idea. I can't just kiss you" he said, stumbling over his words uncharacteristically.

"Why?" you asked quietly, sadly.

"No—not—fuck—" he started and stopped, trying not to upset you again.

He paused, trying to collect himself.

"Why do you think no other girl has slept in this bed?" he said seriously.

You pulled your hand back at the mention of other girls at a moment like this, but he responded by reaching to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him.

You were shaking your head.

"Because if I couldn't have you, then I didn't want anyone else. You're fucking it for me, always have been, but girls like you don't end up with guys like me and it's best I don't waste your fucking time and ruin our friendship in the process, alright?" he said resolutely, with finality.

"Matty—" you started

"—Please stop calling me that, please" he said, slamming his eyes closed, "I'm trying to maintain a semblance of self control here."

"Stop holding back!" you whisper-yelled, which caught his attention, causing his eyes to flutter open. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want you. I've always wanted you, ask any of our thickheaded friends, they've all known for a long time."

He blinked slowly like each individual word had to register in his head. You could see him swallow, could see the sentence process in his brain as the pad of his thumb traced your cheek and you leaned into him, pressing further against him.

"Kiss me, Matty" you said.

And the last thread of his self control snapped. He leaned in, hovering close enough that you could feel the faintest touch of his lips as they ghosted against yours, teasing you.

"If I kiss you, that's it then, you're mine" he said, like it was a threat, an ultimatum, and not the best thing that's ever happened to you.

A smile spread across your lips and you nodded against his.

"All yours" you whispered back and he caught the last of your words with his mouth, his lips taking yours as both of his hands came to grasp your face firmly but gently, pulling you into him.

You could barely suppress the hum of pleasure that left you at the sensation, the relief of the feeling of his lips pillowed against yours, the tenderness and softness so opposite of everything that he was, the duality of it all had your body tingling. One of your hands grasped at his sweatshirt while the other wound around his neck, attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you as he moaned into your mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and you swore there wasn't anything in the world but this moment, this feeling with him as you tasted the lingering flavor of cigarettes and peppermint that you would come to associate with him.

It was all grabbing, desperate hands and crashed lips at first, trying in moments to catch up on years of wanting, until it was tantalizingly slow, languid, purely achingly perfect and intimate. You were certain you would kiss him like this every single day, given the chance.

It could have been minutes or hours that you were lost in each other before he pulled back, and the whine that left your lips at the loss of contact nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and marching you to the first broom closet he could find.

"I've spent just about every day for the last 5 years thinking about this, and I cannot believe I'm about to fuckin' say this, but I'm not gonna rush it. At the very least, I'm not gonna hook up with you in a room full of people" he said, before tilting his head, "Well, at least not the first time... after that, no promises."

You laughed quietly and swatted at his shoulder.

"C'mere" he said, pulling you into him.

You curled into his arms, head nuzzling into his neck, your head resting on his chest as he held you tightly, brushing soft kisses to your temple as you fell asleep.

E P I L O G U E

You had been so caught up in the events of the evening, you hadn't really stopped to consider what happens next, namely, how would you tell your friends? Just make an announcement at breakfast? Put on enough PDA that they drew their own conclusion? Take off the scarf you were wearing that was covering the innumerable hickies on your neck? Your mind was in a heady fog about it all as the group of you wandered towards the Great Hall.

You were glued to Mattheo's side, but that wasn't really unusual; his fingers brushed against your own as he shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face.

"YN!" a voice shouted behind you.

You turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging towards you and you slowed your pace, as did everyone around you. Boys had to be either brave, stupid or naive to approach you when you were with your guy friends, and you weren't sure which category to put Cedric in as his eyes met their unwelcome stares but addressed you anyway.

"Sorry— yeah, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to—" he started.

Oh no you thought.

"—Cedric, really, that's so kind—" you interrupted, trying to prevent a scene from breaking out as you felt Mattheo tense beside you.

"—You didn't even hear what I was going to say?" he said with a laugh, somewhere between offended, annoyed and amused.

"Well, think that makes the message pretty clear then, mate" Mattheo said, the anger palpable in his tone.

"Excuse me?" Cedric replied. "I was talking to—"

Oh no you thought again.

And you weren't quick enough to intervene before Mattheo had Cedric pinned against the stone wall of the hallway, his forearm at Cedric's chest, nearly lifting him off the ground as his feet dangled for purchase.

"I don't fucking care who you were talking to. From now on, you don't talk to her at all, alright?"

"What are you, her bodyguard?" Cedric sputtered as he gasped for breath.

"No" ... a pause... "I'm her boyfriend" Mattheo growled.

You tried and failed to hide the huge smile on your face behind your manicured fingers as your friends shouted behind you.

Well, that's one way to do it you thought. ♡

[distantdarlings]

STRAY FROM ROUTINE // m. riddle

RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* You wake up with an evil plan to ignore Mattheo Riddle until he cracks.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, spanking, thigh-hitting, dom!mattheo, sub!reader, mean mattheo, slight breeding kink, controlling mattheo, reader is resisting (but she's doing it on purpose), toxic relationship values, name-calling, degradation, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ride or Die, Pt. 2 - Sevdaliza (I can't get it out of my head :'))

- - -

The inspiration that struck you as soon as you woke up was one of some kind of age-old genius. The motivation that came with it seemed to cloud your mind like some kind of drug, flooding your mind and inhibiting all other thoughts that attempted to enter your brain the rest of the day.

You had always been a bit of a shit-starter when it came to Mattheo Riddle, but today, you were feeling downright sinister.

Your eyes flicked across the room to catch the dark boy’s oaken eyes. His strong hand lifted from the counter to toy with his bottom lip teasingly. Every move was calculated, down to the way his shoulders moved when he took in a breath.

He skirted through his usual routine of tracing his eyes slowly down your body, then flicking them back up to steel his eye contact. For the first few months of your relationship with him—if that’s what you wanted to call it—that whole intimidating facade had worked on you effortlessly. But now, you knew he was more bark than he was bite. That was, as far as you could tell.

You supposed that after sleeping with him so long, he’d have lived up to his whole King Mattheo act, but he'd fallen short. You were disappointed, to say the least. The majority of the entire student body, including some teachers, were terrified of this boy that currently stared you down, but you seemed to be missing something.

Was he good in bed? Hell yes. Could he get mean? Also yes, but where was the difference? As far as you could tell, he didn’t fuck any differently than any other Slytherin boy you’d been with. They were practically all the same. Mean, dominant, and rough. They usually had some kind of ego to keep up—or a tiny dick to compensate for. Whatever it was, Mattheo didn’t seem any different.

He was mean, dominant, and rough. The only thing that had surprised you about him was how gentle he was beneath it all. With every bruising thrust, his fingers cradled your hips gently where others gripped with their nails. With every mark he sucked into your skin, he darted a tongue out to soothe where others let it simmer. He was a rough lover, but he was still a lover. The others were just rough.

That was what had kept you going back to him so many times. But you were getting impatient. It was time for Mattheo to step his game up, or you were going to get bored. You wanted him to prove to you that he was different. But you didn’t want to have to ask for it. You just wanted him to know to do it.

By the time the last of the breakfast crowd had dissipated and the campus prepared for their first periods, Mattheo hadn’t broken eye contact once. Nor had you. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do—for Mattheo or any one else—it was back down from a challenge. If he wanted to tease and stare and frustrate, you’d do the same.

Finally, he stood with the rest of his group of friends. They headed toward the door but his focus remained on you.

The tip of his wand peeked out from the edge of his uniform sleeve and, with a few mumbled words, a small slip of paper had collapsed from the tip of the wooden object. It hit the floor silently, and weaved through the swarm of feet marching through the Great Hall. Once it had reached you, it stopped just before your shoes beneath the table.

At risk of being caught by your friends, you refused to glance down at it. But, just like he always did, Mattheo had thought of everything. With a shiver, you felt the piece of paper slide up your leg like a slithering snake.

It slunk over the curve of your knee and seemed to wait for you to grab it. Ignoring the thought that it seemed to be alive like some sort of bug, you slipped your hand beneath the table and pulled the slip of paper toward you. Discreetly, you opened it up and looked down at it.

How do you want me to take you today? was scrawled in heavy, broad strokes across the sliver of parchment.

You bit back a smirk. That little fucker.

But, no. With the inspiration you had today—the inspiration to push Mattheo Riddle as close to the edge as possible—you weren’t going to allow him the satisfaction.

In fact, you were going to ignore him entirely until he cracked. That was the plan and you were settled with it. While this likely wasn’t the best thing for your own health, you weren’t too concerned. Mattheo Riddle was an asshole, but he wasn’t a murderer. You were pretty sure, anyways.

Satisfied with your decisions, you smiled lightly and pushed the piece of parchment into the first pocket of your school bag. As soon as you returned to your room, it would be placed with all of the other notes he had passed to you. Even though you weren’t wildly impressed with Mattheo’s performance so far, it was still nice to have the dirty, little notes sitting around for a rainy day.

- - -

And throughout the rest of the day, you stuck to your plan like glue. Every stare, every sneaking touch, every whispered word from Mattheo was met with a brick wall. You simply weren’t interested in any aspect of his usual antics, today. He needed to earn what he refused to admit he wanted so badly, which was you.

And by third period, you could tell he was nearly ready to explode. His jaw was clenching and unclenching, his fists were wrapped so tightly together, the knuckles were almost completely white. He was fucking angry—possibly angrier than you had ever seen him. And that was exactly what you had wanted. You wanted him to know that you were a million times different than any of the other girls he’d romanced so far.

He tried once more to entice a little desire from you just toward the end of class. The two of you sat in the last two rows at the very back of the classroom.

The room was elevated with the back rows at the highest point of the room, overlooking the rest of the class. Any secret movements were noticed simply by the backs of heads and a nonchalant teacher.

Mattheo sat directly behind you with one of his unnamed friends to his left, and another to that boy’s left. You were alone on your row. The class was not that big. But this was exactly the kind of environment a sly boy like Mattheo Riddle loved. He would take any opportunity he could to slide his dirty lips against your ear and whisper any deviance that popped into his head at the moment. And that’s what he’d done.

His head had settled just beside yours. You’d heard his breathing before even noticing the heat from his skin radiating onto yours. A shiver passed through your body at his proximity. Annoyed at your body’s involuntary reaction to the dark boy, you slipped your arms beneath the table to hide the chills sprouting across your flesh.

He must have seen them, though, because a small breath of a smirk passed across his face in your peripheral.

“I don’t know what your game is, little girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you’d better straighten that attitude up, or, I swear, I’ll fix it myself.”

He didn’t say another word before he leaned back against his own seat, leaving you to wonder whether or not this was a good idea. You reminded yourself that intimidation was his shtick. That was the majority of the reason everyone was so frightened of him. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually beaten anyone up or done anything to anyone who’d wronged him. Like you’d said, he was all bark.

Still, despite his threatening words, you simply flipped your hair over your shoulder and completely ignored him. He scoffed, seemingly suppressing a laugh. He was mad. But he wasn’t going to admit that to you right now.

Besides, you were sure you’d never hear the end of it once it was all said and done.

Once the teacher had announced that class was over and recited the homework assignment to a crowd of deaf ears, you gathered all of your things quickly and made a beeline for the door. You hadn’t even given Mattheo a second to gain a bit of awareness before you were out the door and halfway down the hallway.

You didn’t have a fourth period, but Mattheo did. He had Potions for the next hour, giving you just enough time to spruce up your appearance a bit and prepare for the storm that was brewing. You knew Mattheo well enough by this point to know how this evening was going to go. He would threaten your body within an inch of its life, ask if you ‘knew who he was,’ then he’d fuck you. Just like he always did. There was too much of a pattern. Not enough spontaneity to keep you occupied—you needed more. Hopefully, today was what did it for him.

The dormitory you shared with your mates was completely barren due to their schedules. Out of the five of you, you were the only one that had chosen fourth period as your free period. It seemed odd to you that they would rather have a late start to the day, than an early end. In your opinion, you’d wake up as early as you had to, if it meant you did not have to yawn your way through the last classes of the day.

You dropped your bag onto your bed and made for the small desk that was positioned just beside the headboard. It was stocked with all of your personal hygiene products—organized impeccably—and various bits of stationery for schoolwork. It served as both a desk and a vanity for you while you were getting ready in the mornings—or getting ready to see Mattheo.

You hoped he would be desperate all through his class. You hoped his eyes would be flickering around nervously, his knee bouncing rapidly, sweat dripping down his throat. It would be a sight to behold.

Mattheo was gorgeous—there was no denying that. It was just his attitude that needed adjusting. You smirked to yourself before taking a seat at your desk, glancing at your appearance in the small mirror you’d propped up against the stone wall.

And before you were even able to apply a second layer of mascara, the large wooden door in the corner of the room rattled violently. Three aggressive knocks permeated the silence so roughly the dust motes illuminated by the sun shuddered wildly.

A chill of anticipation settled in your stomach. Surely, that couldn’t be him. Fourth period had barely even begun.

You rose from your desk and crossed the length of the room, every step echoing through your body like a cannon. Why were you so nervous? The possibilities of consequences of your own actions were really starting to rattle around in your skull.

Your fingers wrapped around the bronze door handle and pulled.

Sure enough, on the other side, stood Mattheo Riddle. A malicious smirk was printed across his lips. He glanced around a few times, seeming to scan the surroundings of your dorm.

“Hi, is there anyone else here?” he asked, his voice sickly sweet. The courteous role he was playing made you all the more nervous. He never acted this way, even when he’d come to your dorm in the past. He was usually just as brash as he always was, no matter who was in the room.

“No, there’s not,” you said, your voice annoyingly shaking just a bit. “And if you don’t mind, I’m actually pretty busy—”

Just as you started to push the door closed again, Mattheo’s foot slammed against it, completely blocking its path. You tried to push against him, but he was much too strong for you to defend against.

“I’m sure you can spare a few moments for a quick chat,” he nearly growled, never dropping the fake smile planted on his face. His strong arm pushed against the door, rendering your protection of it completely useless. He pushed through and into the room as if you’d never been holding it in the first place.

He kicked the door shut behind him as soon as he stepped through, the door clunking shut with a rough thud. You suppressed a flinch at the loud sound, refusing to show any sign of vulnerability. You couldn’t pull away from your plan now that you were feeling his anger—that was cowardly.

“Mattheo, I’ve asked for you to leave,” you warned.

“Yeah? Just answer one question for me, baby…” he said, stepping directly into your personal space and invading it in every way possible.

As if asking for permission, he raised his hand slowly and let it hover just next to your cheek. When you did nothing, he placed his fingers along your jawline. They stroked gently across a small surface area, insisting that you felt every searing second of contact.

His face came impossibly close against yours. His warm breath fanned slowly across your cheek, hints of fire and cinnamon lingering beneath your nose. The feeling of his lips skirting slightly over your skin on the way to your ear sent a myriad of chills down the length of your arms and a pool of heat between your thighs. You silenced a shudder on its way through your lips.

“Did you act that way on purpose?” he whispered. His lips caressed the curvature of your ear, his hot words curling around the room. “If not, I’ll find a new girl to open her legs when I want. But if you wanted this, I will make you regret ever having turned away from me.”

You swallowed thickly, the sound piercing the blanket of silence that fell around the room the minute Mattheo stopped speaking. It irked you to no end, that the entire world seemed to hold its breath to wait for this boy. This dark, irritatingly impossible to resist boy. It was more than you were able to handle, no matter how determined you were to prove a point.

“What I wanted…,” you trailed off coldly. “Was for you to prove to me that you’re not exactly like every other Slytherin that waltzes in here, comes in ten seconds, and then asks me if I’ve finished. I’ve been waiting for that special something to jump out at me, but it just hasn’t. I’m getting bored of you, Mattheo.” You took a deep breath, gaining enough courage to flatten your face and select your next words perfectly. “Speaking of, I was wondering if your friend, Enzo, was single.”

You struggled not to smirk at his reaction. If you didn’t know Mattheo, you’d have assumed he was going to crash out and leave the room. But you knew him and his destructive tendencies. His rage, though extremely stigmatized, was something to be in awe of, and you were ready to see it. And to be the target of it.

His eyes darkened until they were barely reflecting any of the dim light around the room. His lips parted slightly, just enough for an evil smirk to stretch across his face. He was all dark eyes and sharp canines, and it looked as if he were desperate to sink them into your flesh.

“You’re fucking done,” he whispered menacingly.

Then his hand was around your throat, firm and bruising. He walked you backwards until your back roughly hit the stone wall, the cold rock biting into your shoulder blades. His lips met yours with a fervor you’d never seen before.

His tongue cruelly parted your lips and laid claim to the entirety of your throat. You could hardly breathe with the pressure he was applying around your neck and the force of his kiss. Yet, still, you could not deny the heat building within your stomach and radiating downwards.

His free hand wrapped around your waist, the fingers slipping slyly beneath the waistband of your uniform skirt. Just as always, in the midst of the fiery storm, his fingers were able to imitate some form of softness just long enough for his hand to prepare to rip your skirt away. Despite the roughness he provided everywhere else, his fingers were gentle as they slid along your skin so as not to pinch it against the wall. It was just thoughtful enough to melt your heart down into a broiling golden puddle.

His strong hand gripped the material of your bottoms and pulled them roughly down, revealing the absence of anything beneath, save your blackened tights. When he lifted his hand once more to tear your panties away, he recognized the lack of material within his fingers and growled against your lips.

“You fucking wanted this, you dumb slut,” he spat, his pearlescent teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip. With a whimper and flash of white across your vision, he finally released you, leaving behind a thin slathering of blood across your teeth.

“You wanted me to tear you to pieces,” he whispered, his hand finally freeing your throat, but only to get to work on ripping your uniform shirt apart. The buttons clattered wildly across the floor, rolling freely each in their own directions.

You moved to protest but Mattheo shoved you back against the wall. He shook his head as if in disbelief you’d even try to get away from him at this point in time. In his mind, this was well-deserved punishment. If you were his girl, you were going to fucking listen to him. You knew what you were getting into when you first laid your lips on his.

With your shirt split down the middle, the only thing standing between his lips and your heaving body were a lacy bra and a pair of tights. The cold, gray air hit your soaked body so aggressively, you thought your teeth might start clacking together.

“All this going to waste because you couldn’t ask me for what you wanted,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to destroy this gorgeous body, when it should be worshiped.”

To your disbelief, he sank down to his knees and placed his hands gently on the back of your thighs. His scorching mouth made contact with your thighs—still covered in the thin material of your pantyhose—and he began to place wet, biting kisses along your flesh. He moved slowly from just above your knee to the top of your thigh. Each mean kiss ached as if they were done by a wild animal, but—just as he always fucking did—he soothed them with his skilled tongue afterwards. Never letting you hurt for too long.

Once he reached your core, fluttering in anticipation, he took a deep breath. The scent of your desire filled his senses as if it was his last meal. Just from how he’d loved in the past, you could tell that he was refraining from devouring you. But this was a punishment. No matter how sweet or caring he so often was, he was never going to let you have what you wanted.

“But that won’t do today…” he whispered against the surface of your tights just above your core, so close that his lips brushed across the sensitive skin. You withheld a whimper.

“Seems like it wasn’t happening any other day, either,” you chuckled breathlessly. You weren’t dropping this fucking routine. You wanted this and every inch of teasing Mattheo wanted to give you.

He laid a biting slap across your left thigh. The sound of it echoed throughout the room, only being interrupted by the cry that left your lips at the sudden abuse.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he demanded, his hand soothing the sore flesh.

He pressed one more kiss to the blossoming handprint, before sliding a short nail against the hosiery, ripping it instantly.

You gasped at the sensation, watching as he pulled on the material. It shredded down your leg, exposing your bare thighs to the pale light. Flaming red fingerprints bloodied the soft flesh and marked you as his.

Despite your annoyance at his lack of excitement during the last few times you’d fucked, the feeling of possession that he’d laid on you always made an impression. You felt like you belonged to him in every aspect of the word.

Then before you were able to let another smart-ass comment fly, he slipped his hand beneath the large shear in the tights and ripped a hole right across your aching groin, baring your searing cunt to the world.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Even though he was intending to punish, Mattheo couldn’t help but appreciate your body just a little bit. Though he wouldn’t admit it just yet, he could die happily buried within you.

Seeming to realize his “punishment” was a bit too sweet, he gripped your hips roughly and flipped your body around to face the wall. You helped aloud as the craggy stone bit into the skin of your breasts through your bra. The lace mixed with the cold wall made your nipples prick almost uncomfortably.

“Gonna fuck some manners into you, baby,” he murmured, his gravelly voice echoing against the curve of your spine. His mean fingers traced each nodule of each vertebrae until he reached the dimples imprinted in the small of your back.

His thumbs pressed deep against them, rubbing an easy massage into them for just a second.

“Feel good? You got any other dumbass things to say?”

“Why waste my breath? I’m gonna have to fake my fucking orgasm in a few seconds.”

You bit back a moan as he reached through your legs, gripped the hole he’d ripped in your tights, and widened it between your thighs. He pulled it up and over your ass.

“Yeah? You fake it every time, baby?” he growled into your ear, his heavy bulge pressing into your bare ass.

“Yeah,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your hands were settled against your desk, fingers tightened around the edges, nails scratching into the wood. Your back was arched uncomfortably against his core, begging for every slight thrust he pressed into you. You could practically feel him within you already.

“You fake it every time you cum all over my cock, huh?” he asked. Behind you, you could hear him wrestling his belt out of its loops and dropping his trousers.

“Answer me, bitch,” he demanded, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back against his chest.

“Fuck, Matty, that hurts!” you whined. It was a good, searing kind of pain but you didn’t want him to know that. Didn’t want him to know that your arousal was dripping down your legs by now.

“Yeah? That hurts?” he taunted. “That’s nothing, baby. You can take it.”

Then suddenly, his hot core was leant against the top of your ass. You were biting back a moan and running your fingers into the desk so hard they were going numb. Still, you weren’t going to give up.

“We’ll see if you can give it—fuck!”

He shut you up by slamming himself into you. The force of his intrusion hit your cervix at a sharp angle, sending stars into your eyes.

“Let me hear you fake it, yeah?” he groaned as he pulled himself out of you all the way to the tip before pushing himself back into you.

You couldn’t hide it anymore. Though you could still force some mean comments out every once and a while, you were unable to repress your moans.

“I’m basically an expert at this point!” you moaned.

“I bet,” he growled, his hips increasing in pace. “I know the way you clench around me everytime I take you from behind—” every sentence was pushed out between deep groans that echoed in your womb— “I’ve memorized every possible way you can scream my name…and I’ve learned every single thing I have to do to make that pretty pussy cum all over me.”

Following his words, his right hand snaked around your hip and pressed directly against your clit. He rubbed perfect circles into the sensitive spot, demanding a finish from you as soon as he could pull it from you.

“You’re a bit too cocky for my liking,” you breathed against his ruthless pounding. “I’d still like Enzo’s number.”

And with one final thrust, he pierced the bubble of pleasure that had bloomed rapidly in your stomach. You came impossibly hard, with the evidence of your high embarrassingly gushing around him. He pulled away from you and let your desire cover his stomach.

He laughed almost maniacally at the way your orgasm stretched out for what felt like hours.

And then, as you were finally coming down, he was pumping himself noisily into his hand and coming all of your lower back, painting the dimples he so loved to touch.

He moaned breathlessly, a slight crack in his voice, as he slowed his movements down and came down from his own high.

A tired laugh left his swollen lips as he trailed his finger through the remnants of his spend on your back and pushed his coated fingers into your sensitive entrance.

The overstimulation sent a flurry of ice up your spine. You cried at the sensation. Your legs fluttered before giving out.

On your way down to the floor, he caught you against his arms. Your knees were impossibly weak, but he was ever so strong.

“You faking this too, baby?” he clicked his tongue before settling you against your bed.

“Fuck you,” you sighed, your eyes fluttering against the ceiling. The lightheaded feeling floating through your skull was nearly too much for you to handle, but you were still high up on your pedestal and refused to come down.

Distantly, you could hear him pulling his pants up and rearranging his clothes.

Gently, he slid the remainder of your hosiery down your legs, unhooked your bra, and lifted you up off of the bed bridal-style. Somehow managing to cradle you with just one hand, he used his left to yank your comforter back, and settle you beneath it.

He leaned down beside your ear and pressed his lips to your temple. Just before he pulled all the way back, he began to whisper.

“The next time you wanna act like that—just remember that I fucked you to sleep, brat.”

- - -

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[illbegottenfaith]

for the rose and the pearl (a I'm Not That Girl inspired fic)

attending Mattheo's wedding with Theo makes you realise you're not the girl he could truly build a happy life with (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

a/n - so my plan to write shorter drabbles backfired spectacularly 😭😭 I'm suchhh a slut for multiple meanings in a theme - I'm not that girl who's just going to cheer you on from the sidelines. I'm not that girl who's pretty/glamorous to be on your arm. IM NOT THAT GIRL WHO STILL KNOWS HOW TO LOVE YOU 😭😭😭😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :)))

tropes/warnings - angst, tw alcohol

word count - 2.6k

taglist - @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @anikatcmh @starkeyszn @natbat666 @ebriton @shrekstoesblog @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @thaliashifts

True to his word, Theo let you pay for your dress. And yet, a week before the wedding, you receive a charming set of pearls, courtesy of one Mr. Theodore Nott.

"Thin ice," you say to him as a means of greeting at the wedding. He bends down to kiss your cheek in hello, and when he steps back you see him grinning. His gaze flicks down to the pearls around your neck.

"Whatever for?"

After the quick hello, he's almost immediately pulled away again into his best man duties. You drift around, saying hi to a few familiar faces. In fact, you only find him again while exploring the venue.

You spy the groomsmen gathered near the entrance of the reception hall, a loose circle of dark suits and polished shoes, some fixing their cornflower boutonnieres, others already nursing drinks.

Theo stands in the middle of them, one hand in his pocket, looking effortlessly put together with his crisp sky-blue pocket square - that is, except for the small white rose in his hand, still separate from his lapel. He rolls it between his fingers absently, half-listening to whatever joke Enzo is telling.

You know you shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t notice the way it’s just slightly crumpled from where he’s been holding it for too long, fidgeting with it restlessly, like he hasn’t thought to ask for help, like he’s waiting for someone else to step in.

“Here,” you say anyway, stepping forward before you can think better of it.

Theo barely reacts as you pluck the flower out of his slack grip. He only shifts slightly, angling himself toward you, allowing you to close the space between you as you pin it into place.

You focus on the task at hand, on the fine, expensive fabric beneath your fingers, on making sure the flower is positioned just right. You don’t look at him, and if you feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, you don't show it.

But he looks at you.

You feel it - the weight of his gaze, the way he watches you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be doing this for him, the way you've done it a hundred times before.

And that’s when it appears. That quiet, unwelcome thought.

This isn’t who I am anymore.

Because it’s not just a boutonniere. It’s the way this feels too familiar, too easy - slipping into an old version of yourself, one who smoothed Theo’s collar without thinking, who fixed his tie before he headed out the door, the one who looked after him like it was just second nature.

Years have passed. You thought you had clawed out, escaped, and yet the second he comes running back to you, you’re back here, in his orbit, making sure he looks good for a moment that isn’t even yours.

And the worst part? He anticipates it.

Not in an entitled way. Not because he thinks it’s your job. But because this is how it’s always been. Because he still sees you as that girl. The one who stands beside him, just slightly behind. The one who makes things easier for him. The one who's ready to cheer him on from the sidelines. The one who's agreeable enough to not take up any more space than he could afford.

But that's just it, wasn't it? You weren't ready to give up a life of your own for his. You tolerated it until you started resenting him for it. He hadn't understood it then. He probably didn't understand it now. Either way, it didn't matter. It was too late.

“There.” You finish pinning the boutonniere, stepping away before the moment can stretch too thin.

Theo glances down at it briefly, then back at you. His lips part, like he might say something. But then someone else claps him on the back, congratulating him on something, and just like that, the moment passes.

You slip away, back into the crowd, back into yourself.

You don’t look back.

The wedding is beautiful and the reception is a vivid, lively affair. You run into so many old friends and made so many new ones that you hardly felt the lack of Theo. You rather enjoy the swing band, but now the music is shifting into something slow, sweeping - a song made for moments like this.

Couples drift onto the dance floor, drawn in by the soft pull of violin strings bathed in candlelight. You’re content watching from your seat, half-listening to the slightly obscure conversation at your table until a hand extends into your view.

Theo.

You hadn't seen him since his toast, after which his attention had been demanded by a thousand other people for reasons that had nothing to do with his fame. Even at Hogwarts, people seemed drawn in by his aloof sincerity despite his somewhat reserved demeanour. You didn't mind watching him thrive in his element - you were more than happy in the company of the sparkling liquor at your table and friends-of-friends you'd only heard of.

Now, you blink up at him, a little dazed. Perhaps it would have been wise to stay a little more sober. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a shadow in his dark eyes. A quiet insistence.

“Dance with me.”

It’s not really a question. Your first instinct is to say no, but something in the way he looks at you makes you pause.

So you take his hand.

His palm is warm with a familiar roughness as it guides yours. He leads you onto the dance floor with a practiced ease, slotting a hand against your waist as if this is something you've done a hundred times before. As if this is something you still do.

It shouldn’t feel so effortless. It shouldn’t be this easy, falling into step with him. But it is.

The rest of the room falls away.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence between you isn’t unfamiliar—it’s lived in, worn down by time. But it doesn’t settle the way it used to. There’s something restless underneath, roaming and nervous. You wonder if he can feel it too.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, the smallest of gestures, but it makes something twist deep in your chest.

“People will talk,” you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else.

He doesn’t even glance around. “Let them.”

Easy for him to say. He more than looks the part of someone meant to be here - sharp suit, easy confidence, the kind of presence that draws attention like gravity. He belongs in ways you can only dream of.

Your dress is simple. Pretty, but not remarkable. Not the kind of thing people would take a second look at. And yet, standing beside him, in the center of the dance floor, you can feel the weight of glances which linger too long.

You know what they see.

A girl in borrowed glamour, playing pretend in someone else’s world. A fleeting guest on the arm of someone who’s only ever been untouchable. They’re probably wondering the same thing you are - why he asked you to dance in the first place.

You draw Theo closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press your cheek into the crook of his neck. Anything to hide your face from him. For the first time in years, you feel inadequate.

“Relax.” You feel Theo's voice vibrate through his chest, low, almost amused, like he can read every thought passing through your mind.

"I am," you rasp. It's an unconvincing sound even to your own ears. Y

ou begin to wish you hadn't agreed to this. It was a stupid reminder of the trophy wife you never knew how to be.Despite what he might think, you hadn't abandoned your relationship at the first sign of strife. You tried - Merlin, you tried - squeezing yourself into a box to make even more room for him. But eventually, you had to accept that you just weren't that girl - the one who was glamorous yet self-fulfilled enough to be seen on his arm.

He imperceptibly slides his hand up your back. “You look fine.”

It’s a throwaway comment, a dismissive sort of reassurance. It shouldn’t matter. And yet, you feel the familiar sting of something old, something buried, something you promised yourself to forget. A part of you missed this, missed him, so here you were, play-acting at being man and wife.

The music swells, and he turns you effortlessly in time with it. You move like muscle memory, feet gliding through the motions without thinking.

Maybe this is why you said yes - because of the way his hand fits against yours, or the way his gaze softens when he thinks you’re not looking. Because the two of you can't help but work this well together.

You exhale, carefully schooling your expression into something even as you pull back to face him. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

Theo’s mouth lifts at the corner—barely a smirk, but there’s something knowing in it. He doesn’t reply.

The song begins to fade, the final notes melting into the hum of the reception. Theo slows to a stop, fingers loosening around yours, and something flickers in his expression. Like he wants to say something. Like he’s looking at you - really looking, as if for the first time.

But then someone calls his name from across the room. His attention flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough. The moment shifts and dissolves.

Tomorrow you'll wake up in a cold, empty bed with aching feet. The both of you will go back to living your separate lives, but each night you'll wonder if tonight was a dream that never really happened.

You step back, slipping out of his hold before he can do it first. Before the silence between you turns into something else.

“Thanks for the dance,” you say lightly, already turning.

You don’t look back to see if he watches you go. And if your hands still feel warm where he held them, well - that’s nobody’s business but yours.

The reception hall is empty now, save for the two of you. The candles have burned low, wax pooling in their gilded holders, and the last of the champagne sits in your glass, its fizz whispering in the quiet. The music stopped a while ago. So did the dancing, the toasts, and the laughter of people whose love doesn’t come with fine print and hidden clauses.

But you’re still here. And so is Theo.

He’s warm beside you, your shoulder tucked into his as he leans back in his chair, one arm slung lazily across the back of yours. The night has left you both a little drunk, a little drowsy, a little too comfortable in each other’s company. Even with the buzz of the drinks, it's getting harder and harder to ignore the chill creeping up your arms. You don’t remember when you started leaning into him, but he hasn’t moved away. You hope he doesn't anytime soon.

He turns his head, eyeing what's left of the extravagantly lavish cake. "Seven tiers, half of which will go uneaten," Theo mutters, voice threaded with amusement. "It is Mattheo's wedding, after all. Why have enough when you can have far too much?"

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head against his shoulder. "Like you're one to talk about...excesses."

Theo gives a long-suffering sigh.

"Is that what you think of me? Excessive?"

"I think," you say in a tone of faux innocence, "you don't want to know what I think of you."

He groans and throws his head back, eliciting a laugh from you. It's a strangely effective balm, this good-natured ribbing, or maybe it's the alcohol. You swirl the last sip of champagne in your glass. The gold catches the light, shimmering against the crystal, and you think—not for the first time tonight—how easy this is. How easy it always was with him.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the fact that the wedding is over, and yet you’re still here, wrapped up in Theo like a memory, like you’ve forgotten that you were just supposed to be his date for the night.

"You’re warm," you murmur, shifting slightly to press closer.

He huffs a laugh. "You’re drunk."

"Just tipsy." You look up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. "Big difference."

The alcohol has made your consciousness deliciously blurry. You become aware of the cold, rigid surface of your shoes pressing against your aching feet. In your mind's eye, you see your slippers melting off your feet, clear as glass, dripping diamonds which promise to wound your feet.

But you're still curled up with Theo, perched on some delicate fence between exes or something more, and even now, years on, you know he won't let you fall - he never did and he never would.

If only things were the same with you.

You were no longer the girl who knew how to love Theo the way you once did, wholly and purely. You wished you were. Tears gather under your eyelashes like crystals, heavy with remorse. You wished you knew how. For the love of God, wouldn't someone tell you how?

He watches you for a beat longer than he should.

And then his hand comes up, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. His knuckles ghost over your jaw, then his fingers slip beneath your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You should stop him.

But the champagne is warm in your veins, his bedroom eyes are the worst kind of drug and the way he looks at you—like he still remembers exactly how you take your tea, like he still knows how to make you laugh even when you don’t want to—makes you hesitate just long enough for his lips to brush yours.

It’s not desperate. Not hurried. Just a quiet thing, lingering at the edges of something once lost.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget.

But then the thought creeps in—quiet, insidious.

I’m not that girl.

Not the girl he wants or the girl he needs.

You pull away before the thought can swallow you whole.

Theo blinks, exhaling like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. It almost sounds like disappointment. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You don’t resent him for this. Not anymore.

It’s not his fault you still feel the echoes of something that should have faded years ago.

And it’s not your fault that you know better now.

[sadnymi]

HIYA,

I js wanted to ask if you could write a short oneshot about lazy tired sex with Mattheo after a long exhausting day? Like in the bathtub or in bed?

U don’t need to, this just has been on my mind for a long time

Thx pretty woman😋

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Warnings: smut , strong language - fluff.

The day had been nothing short of chaotic. Interviews, Quidditch practice, and the whirlwind that followed Mattheo everywhere had drained every ounce of energy from your body. By the time you stumbled back into his dorm, both of you were running on fumes.

You barely managed to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the bed, limbs feeling like lead. Mattheo followed suit, dropping onto the bed beside you, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, tired smile.

"Merlin, we’re a mess," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You rolled onto your side to face him, eyelids heavy but unable to resist the pull he had over you. "Speak for yourself," you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed how worn out you truly were.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and lazy, matching the atmosphere. "You’re right, baby. I’m an absolute disaster," he replied, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. "But you—you're perfect, even when you’re dead tired."

His lips brushed against your forehead, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to ignore.

You felt his fingers trailing up and down your side, sending tingles across your skin. "Mattheo," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips, but he heard it. He always did.

"Mhm?" he hummed, his mouth now moving to your neck, pressing slow, lazy kisses that made your pulse quicken.

"I don’t think I have the energy for this," you admitted, though you didn’t make any move to stop him.

A sly smile curved his lips as he gazed at you. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Before you could respond, he was scooping you up into his arms, his strength effortlessly lifting you from the bed.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he silenced you with a quick kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Shhh, love. You’re too tired, remember? Just let me handle everything,” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. As he carried you toward the bathroom, he continued in a low, sultry tone, “Can’t have my girl doing all the work, now can we? I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath hitching as he set you down on the edge of the tub. The water was already steaming, filling the room with a soothing warmth. Mattheo’s hands were quick to undress you, his touch reverent yet teasing, as if savoring every second.

"Get in," he ordered softly, helping you slide into the water. The heat enveloped you, easing the tension in your muscles. You leaned back, watching as Mattheo undressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

When he joined you in the tub, he pulled you against his chest, his hands roaming your body with a slow, deliberate pace. "You feel so good," he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. "So soft, so perfect."

Your breath hitched as his hand slid between your legs, fingers grazing over you with a featherlight touch that made you shiver. "Mattheo… please," you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk against your neck, his fingers continuing their slow, torturous movements. "Please what, darling?" he teased, his voice dark and silky. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you breathed, your body trembling with need. "Please, Mattheo… I need you."

"You get me baby," he murmured, as he finally slipped inside you, drawing out a soft moan. "Always so sweet, always so eager for me."

His pace was slow, deliberate, matching the lazy, tired rhythm of your bodies. But there was nothing lazy about the way he touched you, every movement precise, every word dripping with heat. He kept whispering praises in your ear, his voice a constant murmur of affection and desire. "You’re heaven, baby. Watching you fall apart like this… it’s fucking heaven."

You were lost in him, your exhaustion forgotten as he took you higher and higher, every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge. And when you finally came, your body trembling in his arms, you heard him whisper against your skin, "That’s it, love. That’s my heaven."

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, you felt his arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always mine."

"Always," you whispered back, your hand resting on his chest.

Your body felt completely spent, your limbs heavy and your mind wrapped in a warm haze. Mattheo was gentle as he helped you out of the tub, his hands steadying you as you stood on shaky legs.

He reached for a towel, wrapping it around you, his touch soft and caring as he dried you off. The warmth of the bath lingered on your skin, but it was the warmth of his hands that you craved, the way he treated you like something precious. With each stroke of the towel, he was meticulous yet tender, drying you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

"Stay still for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft, the earlier edge of desire replaced with a soothing calm. You obeyed, too tired to do anything else, too content to want to.

Once you were dry, he pulled his shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling of him. It was oversized, falling past your thighs, enveloping you in his scent. You sighed in contentment, feeling safe, protected.

He smiled at the sight of you in his shirt, his eyes softening as he reached up to gently towel-dry your hair, his fingers brushing through the damp strands.

"You look good in my shirt," pressing a kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a moment.

With a gentleness that made your heart ache, he scooped you up again, carrying you effortlessly back to the bed. He laid you down carefully, arranging the pillows behind you before sliding in beside you.

You nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state. his hand found its way to your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands with a slow, soothing rhythm.

He stayed like that, playing with your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around you. "You’re safe," he whispered, his voice barely audible as sleep began to claim you. "I’ve got you."

You let out a content sigh, your body relaxing completely as you felt the last remnants of tension slip away. his fingers continued their gentle movements, his touch like a lullaby, coaxing you closer to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my love," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as your eyes fluttered shut, his presence grounding you, comforting you in a way nothing else could.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you felt was the warmth of his hand in your hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the quiet reassurance that he would be there when you woke up.

─── ⋆���☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

-I really hope that was at least close for what you wanted and you enjoyed it thank you so much for your request 💗

[mattheosdior]

K.˚୨୧⋆｡˚

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

word count : 1,1k

warnings : mentions of fighting, but mostly fluff

summary : your boyfriend takes you on a dinner date that leads up to a cozy night in with him

a/n : kinda nervous, this is my first time posting my writing on this app (and writing in second pov). so if any mistakes are made blame my inability to write this way…? also, this is a little inspired by ‘K.’ by cigarettes after sex, and a mix of my own ideas w/ minor plot. enjoy!

it wasn’t a rare occurrence that your boyfriend, who gave you the ultimate princess treatment, to take you out. him taking you on dates and spending quality time with you was basically his love language—on top of his physical touch addiction, which he likes to deny, deny, and deny.

even now, as you sit across from the dark, curly-haired boy, who is dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, with a crispy white blouse peeking underneath. his onyx eyes couldn’t peel themselves away from you throughout the wonderful dinner you’ve had together.

the conversations that came easy and switched even easier, the warmth of hearing his laughter throughout the fancy restaurant when you landed a joke had your heart soaring inside of your rib cage.

despite his hands being nowhere near you, his presence was enough to feel like he was touching you. your soul. underneath his reputation that he upheld from his father’s last name at hogwarts, and the walls he builds with everyone else, there was a precious boy.

the one he allows you to see.

as you both wait for the waitress and check to arrive, he switches the topic smoothly. “so, do you have anywhere else in mind you want to go for this date night? or are you ready to head back?” his tender eyes gradually travel over your appearance.

the makeup you had made him wait extra minutes for, your hair which was neatly done and resting around your shoulders, the silky, black dress that clung effortlessly to your figure—and had a small slit on its left side, exposing some of your thigh and leg.

you gnawed on the skin inside of your cheek, laying your options out on the table. there weren’t many shops open this late. And not only were you two dressed up—but it would be silly to go anywhere else in what you’re wearing. you two would be out of place, even if you wanted to go grab a sweet butterbeer from the three broomsticks.

you knew mattheo wouldn’t care about anyone else’s opinion, and which eyes were on the two of you if you did decide that you wanted to go to the three broomsticks. i mean he was used to being mixed into rumors that made zero sense half of the time. surely he could handle any amount of attention.

still, you settled on replying with a simple, “no…?” your tone gave away hesitation, which only caused his eyebrow to lift. “no,” you repeated, this time clearer. “it’s late and we have early classes tomorrow.”

“so?” he decided to push, keeping his mischievous eyes that had the burning candle flame in them on you.

it wasn’t news to you that trouble followed your boyfriend everywhere he went. it was attached to him no matter how far he ran. hell, he’d even go as far as chasing it himself, looking it straight into its eyes, willingly.

finding him in heated fights, and the long days of detention that followed for the consequences of his actions. sometimes he didn’t have to use his fists to land himself inside detention—he’d manage to do that by skipping and ditching periods whenever it suited him.

“so,” you dragged out the single word, attempting to get him on board with you. “i’d rather spend the rest of the night with you. in your dorm.” his brows rose slowly, and his eyes gleamed with amusement on that offer alone.

you knew you had him.

“and suddenly, that sounds like the best idea you’ve had in a very long time, sweetheart.” his tone was smooth, silky, low.

and that’s exactly what happened when you both stepped inside his dorm. with flickering candles keeping the surrounding dark at bay—the gentle flames casting shadows over his ‘artwork’ you had continued to tease him about. the sketches he spilled his thoughts, words, and his emotions into, were scattered on his walls. all telling you different stories within the parchment paper and the black chalk he used.

to the deep, glistening waters of the black lake through the two sets of windows that divided the dorm and murky waters with panels of glass. you knew you were safe. as soon as that cigarette was lit and in between his lips, and finding yourself tangled in messy sheets with him, there was nothing that could divide the two of you.

not only were you wrapped in his familiar cologne but you were wrapped in his sweet warmth. his arm had you tucked into the side of his bare torso, gently running his fingers through your hair as your head lays on his chest. your fingers always found themselves occupied on the scars etched across his olive skin, tracing them with your fingertips, mindlessly.

“i think you have a weird obsession with my scars.” his feather-light voice had your fingers pausing their soft movements on one of his scars. “i mean seriously, they’re nothing special.” he shifted a bit, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on his nightstand, and blowing out the rest of the gray smoke from his lips.

nothing special.

they were all special. you knew that. problem was he didn’t. and it drove you insane.

“you might hate them,” you said softly, moving your head upward so you could meet his eyes, which only had raw love and security in them because he knew your answer remained the same. “but I don’t,” you added, and you could’ve sworn you heard his heart skip a beat from where your ear was pressed against his chest.

his eyes softened, swirling with the flames from the candles on his nightstand. “you’re impossible,” he said quietly, his fingers going from your hair to the edges of your jawline, the pads of his fingertips tracing your skin until he got to your chin. “you’re too perfect.” his eyes darted all over your face, tracing your skin with his eyes.

“no one is perfect,” you pointed out, slowly pushing yourself up from the plush sheets that tried their hardest to not let you go, moving closer to him until your lips brushed. “everyone has scars. whether they’re hidden or shown. yours just so happen to be above reach—to touch, to see, to love,” you whispered on his now slightly parted lips.

his eyes drifted from your vulnerable pair of eyes down to your pink, perfectly sculpted lips. “then show me your scars,” he whispered as he gradually met your eyes through his dark, thick, and long eyelashes, putting his puppy dog eyes on full display for you. “because i want to touch, see, and love them too.”

© mattheosdior 2025. Please don’t copy, translate, or steal my work.

[aur0ral1ghts]

MATTHEO REQUEST

Hi! I‘m a sucker for soulmate trope’s and Mattheo soooo I wanted to ask if you could write a oneshot?

Pls could you make them strangers and not enemies and last thing can reader be in a different house please🙏🏻

Regardless if you‘ll do it or not, Thank youuuu!

sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢs; ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʜᴜғғʟᴇᴘᴜғғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ; ᴛʜɪs ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ...

When I first saw her, I knew she was made for me, I didn't even know her name. I only knew she was a Hufflepuff because of her yellow robes. I was in the forbidden forest, trying to clear my head after a stressful day at Hogwarts. I watched her from a distance behind an oak tree. She was helping an injured Acromantula, petting its head as she whispered a healing spell. The first time I ever saw an Acromantula was in the first year, I had just snuck out of the castle, trying to avoid flinch as I made my way to the forest, I knew I wasn't allowed but I went anyways, unsure of the hidden dangers that lurk within the forest. I was around 50 feet deep in the forest, just exploring, fidgetting with my wand even though I barely knew any good spells yet. That's when I heard a clicking sound, I turned around and saw a giant spider it's big giant black, lifeless eyes piercing into my soul. It's fuzzy legs making it's way closer to me. I screamed as I ran, running towards the castle with my little legs. Up until my 3rd year, I never went back to the forest until I had a huge fight with my best friend Theo, I can't even remember what caused the fight.

I coutine to watch her lips quirk up into a smile as the Acromantula waddles off. Gosh, her smile is perfect. I don't know what I'm doing, thirsting over some beautiful girl I've never even seen!?

In my life, I've never had a crush before. Sure, I've hooked up with pretty much half of the schools female population, but i didn't feel anything special with any of them. The next day, they would come back begging for me, but I would just shut the door on that. I craved real sex with something I loved and actually had feelings for, but once my father told me that love is weak and that love makes you vulnerable. So I just voluntily gave up on love, and anything to do with it.

Until I laid eyes on her.

The most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on.

I mean the way her hair effortlessly flows over her shoulder, the way her face lights up when she smiles, the way she is so caring to animals.

I coutine to watch her as I accidentally step on a twig, resulting in a loud cracking sound. She turns head, standing up, pointing her wand in front of her. I mumble a quick swear as I dash behind that tree. Thankfully, the trunk was big enough to cover my whole body. "Hello?" She speaks. Her voice is beautiful. Her voice is very light and careful. I make a bold move and step out from behind the tree, my hands dug in my pocket. "Hi." I mumble. "Hi?" She questions, still positioning her wand at me. "I'm sorry for scaring you." I say, looking up at her, her eyes looking at me, I get lost in her eyes for a quick second, almost hypnotized by them. "Uh, it's fine. What are you doing here?" She says, lowering her wand. "I come here on occasion, just to clear my mind." I say, leaning against the tree. "Oh, me too. I come here around once a month." She states, placing her wand in her robe pocket. "So, uh..what's your name?" I can't believe it. I just stuttered. In front of this mystery girl.

"It's Y/n, Y/n L/n, what about you?" She asks, tying her hair into a quick ponytail. "Mattheo, Mattheo Riddle." I say quickly. Hopefully, I don't scare her away. My last name usually has that effect on people. Her lips part. Oh shit. "Mattheo.. Riddle." She repeats, her name sounds good coming out of her mouth. I wait a few long seconds before she smiles. "Cool." She says. I'm honestly shocked. Most hufflepuffs are scared of me. Maybe she's different from the rest. "Im going to go now, it's getting late, hopefully I'll see you soon, L/n." I smile, giving her a nod before walking off. "Yeah..s-see you soon." She says, her breath hitching. "Bye." She murmurs.

And that's when I knew she was meant to be mine. And I was meant to be hers.

-

I enter the forest after completing a homework assignment, and I usually come to the forest for fun. I know i wasn't supposed to be here, but hey! You only live once. Life is meant for taking risks. I hum to myself, then I see an injured Acromantula on the ground, its leg tangled within a vine of some sort, a thorn piercing into his leg. I get out my wand as I cast a spell to destroy the vine, turning it to ash. The spider comes free as I whisper a healing spell to help with its cut. I pet the Acromantulas head as it leaves. Then I heard a twig snap, I instantly stood up, holding my wand in defense in case it was a threat. I wait for a moment, my heart practically beating out of my chest. "Hello..?" I question, my voice echoing. I wait a few fair seconds before someone comes out from behind a tree. I recognize the boy. He's in Slytherin, I believe. He's one of the popular boys, I've never actually talked to him before. But wow, he's really handsome. I'm usually not one to thirst over anyone, but wow, this boy is gorgeous. I observe his face, I see a bunch of scars on his face, and a fresh one lays on his nose bridge. Hopefully, he's not one of those boys who gets into fights often. His curls sit over his face perfectly.

"Hi." He mutters, his hands in his pocket. "Hi..?" I answer back, still pointing my wand at him. "I'm sorry for scaring you." He says, his voice is low and deep, but still warm in a way. "Uh, it's fine..what are you doing here?" I say, lowering my wand slightly, but it's still pointing at him in case he makes a sudden move. "I come here on occasion, just to clear my mind." He responds. We have a lot in common already. "Oh, me too, I come here around once a month." I exclaim, placing my wand in my robes pocket. "So, uh, what's your name?" He asks me. I introduce myself, i grab a hair tie from my wrist, and I tie my hair into a ponytail.

He clears his throat. "Mattheo, Mattheo Riddle." I want to gasp, but I don't because that's rude. Instead, I raise my eyebrows. I always knew Voldemorts' son went to Hogwarts, but I never really paid attention to that. I remember his friend group, I knew one of the boys in the popular Slytherin friend group was Mattheo Riddle, but I never figured out who. I didn't have the guts to go talk to them to figure it out. My friends talked about him a few times, constantly ranting about how hot and mysterious he is. I often found myself yawning at their conversations about him. But now, now I see the appeal about him. He's truly breathtaking. "Mattheo.. Riddle." I repeat his name. "Cool." I say, pouting my lips into a smile. There's an awkward slience for a few minutes before he clears his throat. "Im going to go now. It's getting late, hopefully I'll see you soon, L/n." He smiles before walking off. "Y-yea, see you soon." I try to smile back. Oh gosh, i stuttered in front of him, I wish I could just climb in a hole and stay in it. "Bye." I mutter but he already left.

When I got back to my dorm, I found myself unable to sleep, I was constantly tossing and turning in my bed, which is werid because I usually found myself being able to sleep with ease. Mattheo had flooded my mind. He's been the main thing I've been thinking about. I keel replaying the moment in the forest over and over again. My heart beating everytime I think of him.

I've only had one other crush in my life, that being Cedric Diggory. That crush was short-lived when I found out he liked Cho Chang. They he was later found dead at the Triwizard tournament. I held in my emotions since I hadn't told anyone about my crush on him, I waited until we were dismissed to our dorms. That's when I cried.

I let out a tired sigh as I turned to the other side in my bed, bringing my blanket close to me, snuggling up. After what feels like forever, I drift off to sleep.

-

I lay in bed, completely dumbstruck, holding a cigarette to my lip, blowing out the smoke, holding my journal against my chest. I don't write in my journal that often, only if I'm feeling either mad or stressed. I take another drag from my cigarette before putting it in my ashtray on my bedside table. I take my pen and mark the date before starting my entry.

It's me again, I'm completely dumbstruck. I was going to the forest to go on a walk, then that's when I saw her. The most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on. Like how is it even possible to look that good!? And guess what, I found myself stuttering in front of her. It's bloody insane how she has that effect on me even though we just met. It's like she melted my icy exterior. I feel like I've always known her. Like she was meant to be mine. Hopefully, I'll be able to see her again...

Usually, I don't go to the great hall at breakfast. It wasn't worth the constant stares and whispers. But tomorrow, I would push myself to go, just to see her. I close my journal and throw it somewhere on the ground before covering myself with my blanket before dosing off.

When I woke up the next morning, my heart felt heavy. The first thought on my mind was her, and how badly I wanted to see her. I decided to try my best to boost my appearance since I still have time before breakfast, I decided to take a short shower, making sure to use extra body wash and conditioner. Once I got out of the shower, I sprayed on my favorite colange.

-

I woke up with a giant yawn, stretching my arms above my head. I blink into reality, realizing I have to get ready for school. But before I go to my bathroom, I need to water my plants. I look outside my window and smile to the sunrise. I've always preferred the sunrise over the sunset. The sunrise indicated a new day; a new start from the previous day, I've always appreciated that. I walk to my bathroom, I take in my appearance in the mirror, yesh, I have bad bed head. My hair was extremely tangly. After I brush my hair and tie my hair into a half up - half down hairdo. I do my usual routine of spraying my vanilla bodymist, washing my face, brushing my teeth, putting on some light makeup. I put on some blush, dabbing it onto my cheek, and some mascara. I smile at my slightly more acceptable appearance.

My mind focuses on Mattheo. My heart begins to race as my stomach floods with butterflies flying around. I brace myself and begin to walk to the great hall. On my way I go to my friends dorm so we can walk together.

"Hi, Y/n!" She smiles warmly. "Hi!" I say back as we begin to walk to the great hall together. "Your hair looks pretty today." She compliments, tossing my hair in her hand. "Thank you." I giggle, "Your hair looks cute as well." I answer. She's wearing two braids, her usual hairstyle. "Eh, it's nothing special." She shurgs as we enter the great hall. The smell of fresh foods flooded my senses, entering my nostrils. I breathe in deeply as I see Mattheo sitting down, laughing with his friends.. What could he be laughing about? It think to myself as we sit down at our usual spots at the table, being greeted with friendly waves and smiles. "Hi guys." I mutter, sitting down, looking down at all the food on the table. I furry my eyebrows as I scan the table. That's when my eyes stopped on the French toast. I grab a slice as I plop it on my plate. I also grab an orange. I look up across from me to see Mattheo talking with his Slytherin friends. My lips part as I coutine to stare. Gosh, he was beautiful. The way the morning sunlight highlighted his face!? The way the curls fell perfectly onto his face!? The way he smi-

"Y/n!" I close my mouth as I snap my head to my friends. "What are you doing!?" She asks. "Oh, uh, nothing." I lie. "You're staring at something...or someone." She states, raising her eyebrows. "No, I'm not!" I protest, nudging her. As she's distracted with another conversation, I look back at Mattheo, who's already staring at me, drinking out of his mug slowly. I notice his fingers have rings on them. Gosh, that was hot. I looked back at my plate, so it wasn't obvious I was trying to peek at him. But my eyes disobey me as I sneak a peek at him, my eyes widen as he suddens looks at me back, The water from his mug dripping down his chin, he still maintains eye contact with me. After a second, he realizes his cheeks turn red as he looks down, wiping his chin.

-

My eyes land on Y/n as she enters the hall with her friend. Her hair looks gorgeous. It's almost like the room got brighter as she walked in. I take in a deep, shakey breath as she sits down, her hair flowing effortlessly. I don't like to stare, but I can't help it. She's perfect.

She's like a statue - a painting.

Thedore nudges me. "Why are you staring at the Hufflepuff table?" He laughs. "Shut up. No, i wasn't." I lie, scoffing, as my eyes instantly go back to her. She's laughing with her friends. What was she laughing about?

I coutine to look at him, then her eyes suddenly meet mine. Before I know what I'm doing, I feel water spilling onto my lap. I snap out of my trance and realize that I spilled water all over myself. I swear to myself as I try to wipe as much water as i can.

"Yo, mate, are you alright!?" Blaise questions. "Yeah..fine..I'm fine." I reply. "Somethings up." Theo says, as my best friend, I guess it's his job to check up on me. "I kinda.. like..have a crush.." I admit, squeezing my eyes shut. "What!? Who!?" Draco buds in. "Shutupdraco!" Theodore chuckles. "Uh, her name is Y/n. I doubt you guys know her." Dracos eyes widen. "I was paired up with her once. She's pretty nice, I suppose." Draco shurgs, taking a bite of his toast. "Wait, don't tell me you came here just to see her!" Blaise gasps. I nod slowly. "Yeah.. I woke up extra early, and I took a shower and everything." Thedore giggles. "You must be really in love then." He mumbles. "I guess.. Yeah." I say, peeking at her again. To my surprise, she's around looking at me. She's talking to her friend.

Oh gosh.

She's probably laughing at me.

"I should probably go now.." I pause. "Seeyouguyslater!" I say, standing up pretty much running out of the great hall.

-

I see Mattheo run out of the great hall, I wonder what's wrong..? After we eat, we both start walking towards our dorm to collect our books for our next classes. Luckily, our dorm is so close to the kitchen. Whenever I'm hungry, i usually sneak into the kitchen, then elves really like me. They give me free pastry's all the time.

As we're walking to our next lesson in the crowded corridors, I see Mattheo. My eyes make their way to him as he walks. He holds his books tightly. He then looks over at me. I freeze, just standing there, my friend unknowingly walking away. Mattheo.. he also..freezes? He's on the opposite side of the hallway. Kids rush to their next classes, and I stand on my tipy toes to maintain eye contact with him as the flood of kids walk by, chattering. It was like no one was watching us. It was just us in our own little world. Then, one of his friends came up to him, shaking his shoulder.

"Yo, Mattheo, what are you doing!?" He says the rest of their conversation is inaudible, as the crowd dies down, I begin to speed walk to my next class, still confused about what just happened.

-

After all my classes, I headed back to my dorm, sighing, my heart feeling quite heavy. The hallway interaction with Y/n was all i could think about, i mean, it was just us staring at each other! We have an undeniable tension between us.

At 11 p.m., I lay in bed. My mind was still thinking about her. And only her. I was completely and utterly in love with her. Even though we just met, i was obsessed with her. And i wanted her so bad - no. I needed her.

I tossed again in bed, slamming my head into my pillow. You know what, screw this. I think I got up, grabbed a pack of half used cigarettes, and my Walkman. I make my way up to the astronomy tower, like the forest, i usually come up here when I'm either bored, can't sleep, or if I'm stressed. I make my ways up the tall stairs, placing the headphones onto my head. I walk over to the railing, leaning against it, watching the night sky, the stars shining bright. My eyes make their ways down to the forest, I smile at the memory of yesterday night, the way her eyes light up when she saw the spider crawl again, healed.

My lips curl into a soft smile as I chuckle to myself at the thought. I took a deep breath as I pictured her in my mind. Her perfect face, her smile.

I imagine us in a relationship, I've never been in a relationship or never longed for one, but she makes me crave one. I want to touch her, feel her, suck in every detail of her. I want to know her interests, her life, every single thing.

I then hear footsteps making their way up the stairs, i turn around, removing my headphones, allowing them to rest behind my neck.

That's when i see her.

Y/n.

"Uh, Y/n." I smile awkwardly. She looks up, she's in her pajamas, a white tank top, and soft pink pajamas pants, her hair tied into a lazy hairdo. Her eyes widen as they land on mine. "Oh, hi, sorry I didn't expect anyone to be here." She mutters, stepping back, fidgeting. "Oh, no, it's alright, you can stay." I smile warmly, she smiles back, her smile is bright. "Thank you, Mattheo." She says, walking towards the railing. I'm also in my pajamas, a gray tight shirt, and blue pajamas pants. She looks down at the night sky, her lips parting as her eyes widen with a sparkle. "Beautiful, isn't it?" I say, placing the cigarette box deeper in my pocket, I could tell by the way her nose scrunched up at the smell of the smoke.

"What are you doing up here?" I say. "Can't sleep." She responds. "Same here." I sigh, knowing I couldn't sleep because of her.

"Hey, uh, not too offend you, but what was that at breakfast?" She giggles. "Oh, shit.. that," I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. "I was too busy staring at you to realize that the cup was missing ny mouth completely." I mutter. "At me?" She says, eyes gleaming with confusion. "Uh, yeah..I'm sorry I wa-" Her voice suddenly cuts me off. "Don't apologize!" She smiles "It was cute." She admits.

Did..did she just call me..cute!? My face turns into a deep crimson red as i laugh the awkwardness off. "Thank you, I guess." I pout. She giggles again, her laugh is so cute.

"Don't be too embarrassed, I was staring at you too." She says fast. Her cheeks also turned red. "You were?" I question, I knew she was staring, but I thought she was just staring back because I was staring at her.

"Hey, I'm hungry, wanna go to the kitchen?" She asks. "Kitchen?" I reply. "Yeah, the Kitchen." She says, shooting her hands up into a shurg. "Uh, sure! Why not." I chuckle. "Great, c'mon!" She says, grabbing my hand lightly. I feel my heart beating out of my chest. I've never been to the kitchen before, nor heard of it before.

As we arrive in the kitchen, a giant painting of a fruit lays in front of a door. She tickles the pear, and the door suddenly opens. "Shit, that's loud." She mumbles, her hand still on mine. "Let's be quick." She states as I nod, we enter the kitchen to be greeted with a bunch of elves. "Hi, you guys!" She greets. "Miss Y/n!" The elves squeal.

"The usual please, and double it." She smiles, patting an elves' head. A minute later, the elves come back with a plate of delicious smelling goods, two cream filled pastries, and two donuts. "Thank you, this looks delicious.

"Wait, Miss Y/n, can you and the guy help us with a task!" The elf says, frowning. "Uh, of course, what is it?"

"Winky wants you to carry a bag of flour from the storage room. It is too heavy for us elves." She weeps. "Up for the challenge, Mattheo?" She asks. "Definitely." I smile as we run towards the storage room, grabbing a huge heavy bag of flour. "Three, two, one." I say, picking up the flour bag. "I understand why the elves couldn't do it." She groans. Then I felt my leg tug on something, "Oh shit!" I mumble, as i feel myself trip, spilling the bag all over the ground, and most importantly, ourselves. We both hit the ground with an oof, "You're all white!" She giggles. "You are too!" I giggle back, I stand up and help her up.

"Thanks." She says, brushing herself off.

She walks up to the elf and frowns. "Sorry, Winky, we weren't able to do it. Next time a professor comes here, tell them to help you, okay? We have to go to avoid trouble." She smiles. "It's alright, Miss Y/n! Winky will miss you!" The elf says in a high pitched tone.

"Okay, let's go now!" She says as I nod, grabbing her hand. We're both covered in flour. I look down to see Flinchs cat, Ms. Norris. Which means he's coming. "Y/n, look, Ms Norris." I mutter. "We have to go! Run!" She says, as I hear Flinchs recognizable footsteps. I grab her hand and dash to the nearest closet. When I found one, I quickly opened the door and shoved us both into it, holding her mouth closed as I listened with my ear.

"Is it safe?" She says, pulling her hand off me. "I think." I say. I reach to open the door, but her hand stops me, grabbing my wrist. "Wait, stay." She mumbles. I look up at her, she looks up at up her eyes gleaming with something I can't tell.

"Kiss me, Mattheo." She says, my eyes widen. "W-what!?" I reply. "Please." She murmurs. How can I say no to her? Plus, i wanted to, like I really wanted to.

I grab her flour corved face, we both lean in, i grab her waist as we kiss. The kiss is everything I've ever craved. It's sweet, gentle, and perfect. Usually, when I kiss girls, it's rough and per lust. I wanted my first real kiss to be just like this, with someone I genuinely liked.

She pulls back and looks at my face, her puppy dogs looking up at me. She takes her finger and rubs the remaining flour off my face. I do the same for her.

"Thank you, Mattheo." She smiles widely. "You're welcome." I chuckle back.

"I guess I'll.. see you tomorrow..?" She says, going in front of me, her hand grasping onto the door handle. I kiss her again. "Sure." I say as she leaves. The second she leaves, i spin, holding my heart. What just happend!?

-

A/n; ahhh!! Fluff!! This is so so so cute, I absolutely loved writing this and I love this trope! My requests are always open :)

PART 2..? ;)

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

Lovefool - Theodore Nott (3/?)

Part 1 | Part 2

The next day, Theo had barely slept, still riding the adrenaline from the fight. His knuckles ached, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The entire school would be talking about the brawl in the corridor for weeks—and the fact that it was Cormac McLaggen who had been on the receiving end of it? That made it all the sweeter.

Mattheo and Enzo were still teasing him mercilessly at breakfast, throwing in a few exaggerated jabs about how brave he was, how protective he was, but Theo barely registered their comments. His mind was elsewhere.

He kept glancing across the hall, where you were sitting with your friends—laughing, writing something in a notebook, your hair falling in waves over your shoulders. Every time his eyes met yours, his stomach did a weird flip.

And then it happened.

You stood up, gathering your things, and as you walked past his table, your eyes flicked toward him. Just a fleeting glance. But it was enough to send his heart racing.

He was about to turn away, pretending he hadn’t noticed when you stopped.

"Hey," you said softly, voice cutting through the noise of the hall.

Theo froze. "Hey?" he replied, trying—and failing—to sound casual.

You raised an eyebrow. "I heard about the... incident yesterday."

Theo’s heart skipped a beat. Oh Merlin, here it comes, he thought, bracing for the inevitable awkwardness.

But you smiled, albeit just a little, and added, "You know, you really didn’t have to do that."

A weight lifted off his chest, though it was quickly replaced by a new kind of tension. "I... I couldn’t let him run his mouth."

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Well, thanks…I guess I owe you one.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. “Owe me one?”

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “Maybe a coffee sometime? Or... maybe I could help you with that essay for Charms?”

Theo could barely contain his grin. "I’d love that," he said before he could stop himself. So much for being cool.

You smiled again—this time, it was softer, warmer, like you actually meant it. “I’ll hold you to that, Nott.”

And then you walked away, leaving Theo standing there, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he tried to ignore the kissy noises that Mattheo and Enzo were making at him from across the table.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something else growing between the two of you…

::::::::::::::::

It was a couple of days later when Theo finally decided to take you up on your offer to help him with his essay. Of course, it wasn’t because he needed help—he was one of the top students in his class, getting Outstanding grades in every subject. No, he was going to ask for help because he had an excuse to spend time with you. And honestly, he’d take whatever excuse he could get.

The library was relatively quiet when he arrived, and he spotted you already seated at one of the long tables, a pile of books and parchment scattered in front of you. You looked up as he walked in, a soft smile curving your lips as he approached.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Theo said casually, pulling out the chair across from you. “Does that offer to help with the Charms essay still stand?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t look like someone who needs help with essays.”

Theo smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Okay you got me, I don’t, but... I figured I could use some company while I write, if you don’t mind.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Company, huh? So, this wasn’t a desperate cry for help?”

Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “No, but I’ll pretend like it was, if you insist.”

You rolled your eyes but slid a few of your books aside, making room for him. “Alright, company sounds nice.”

He watched as you began scribbling notes on a spare piece of parchment, flipping through a textbook for references. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about seeing you in your element that made his chest tighten. You were so easy to talk to, so effortlessly brilliant. And there was something about the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your work that had him captivated.

You worked in a contented silence, both focusing on your own essays. After a while, Theo heard you place your quill on the desk, and he could sense you staring. He looked up at you.

“So, you know,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m curious. Why did you step in to defend me when McLaggen was talking about me? I pegged you as the cool and brooding type, not so much the knight in shining armor.”

Theo raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe he just caught me on an off day.”

You rolled your eyes again, though you were clearly holding back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

Theo smirked, emboldened by a sudden burst of his usual confidence. “Fine,” he said, his voice lower now, almost conspiratorial. “If you must know, I don’t make a habit of playing the hero.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No?”

“No,” he smirked. “But you’re not just anyone are you?” His eyes flickered over your face, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even the ‘cool and brooding’ types can make an exception for someone special.”

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Nott,” you managed, though the way your pulse raced told a different story.

Theo chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he mused, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I think it’s getting me exactly where I want to be.”

Before you could muster up a response, Theo stood up abruptly. “I’m afraid I need to get to Quidditch practice, but I’ve enjoyed this, bella.”

You swallowed thickly. “Oh…okay, well see you around I guess.” You cleared your throat, straightening up.

Theo gave you a small wave and headed out of the door, feeling your eyes following him as he left.

As soon as he stepped out of the library, his confident façade faltered. The cool smirk vanished, replaced by a furrowed brow and the slightest clench of his jaw. His pulse was still racing, but it had nothing to do with the conversation—it was because of you. His normal quiet but confident demeanour was in tatters, he could barely continue flirting with you for longer than he had without being convinced he was about to pass out.

You were infiltrating every aspect of his being. Merlin, he was in trouble.

Taglist: @maggiecc

[kelstey]

the smiths

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings: none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

you were in hogsmeade, in a small little coffee shop tucked away from the crowded village. exam season was absolutely beating your ass and you loathed it but knew you had to revise.

you were about 2 essays deep - yet you wouldn't be able to tell anyone what was in them if they asked. all your 'revision' was going in one ear and out the other into a drain.

you threw your head back in frustration, unable to concentrate on a singular thing. all you were writing was rubbish and were sure that once you read them back would be utter gibberish.

you got up form the window seat, walking over to the counter to order your fourth coffee of the day. it was also only iam.

your day was meant to be motivational - but you were struggling to even stay awake let alone concentrated. you heard the bell from the door opening ding, not even having an ounce of energy to turn around.

you waited for your iced coffee, oblivious to mattheo riddle stood next to you. "the coffee's here must be good," your head turned to the voice.

"sorry?" you were confused.

he pointed to your lone 'study' area, three mugs of empty coffee scattered around. "how are you not bouncing off the walls?".

your eyes met back with his warm brown ones,"exams are killing me. i need any ounce of caffeine i can get."

"mind if i join your little study session? maybe a study buddy might help," a cute smile was present on his face.

"i suppose," you smiled back. you paid for yet another coffee and headed back to your seat, waiting for mattheo.

the two of you had never really spoke much - maybe a couple words had been exchanged but no where enough to call him a 'friend'. you couldn't deny though, he was absolutely dreamy.

but you were sure the countless of girls he had wrapped around his finger told him everyday. you were too far deep in your thoughts to notice he had made his way over to you.

"nice hand writing," he complimented the countless piles of parchment over the small table.

you nodded, unsure how to reply. "anything in particular you want to study?" you asked.

"could do with some help with astrology, it absolutely kills me," he chuckled.

"oh i love astrology, one of the very few subjects i actually enjoy," you started to go into depth about astrology.

mattheo wanted to listen to you - but he was truly entranced on your gorgeous looks and the way you were so passionate about astrology. the way your hair looked effortlessly done, your eyes twinkling when you got super into a particular

subject.

"mattheo? you there?" you giggled. mattheo was snapped out of his thoughts with the way his name rolled off of your tongue so perfectly.

"i'd be lying if i said i wasn't admiring you," he smiled and you could feel your stomach going flips.

"how many of your little girlfriends do you also say that to?" you teased him.

"just you," he shot you a wink.

"sure," you gave him an unsure look. "i better get going, i told luna i'd go over some potions stuff with her."

mattheo was disappointed to see you leave, truly savouring every moment he had with you. "will i be seeing you again soon?".

"hopefully, maybe next time you'll maybe be focused on the work," you joked about his clear un-amusement in studying, more so studying you instead.

"i'll wish on a shooting star," he shot you a killer smile. you waved him off, putting your earphones in as you played the smiths.

the music was blasted in your ears, mattheo's ears perking up at the familiar song. you left the cafe, makine vour way to luna's dorm.

you were too absorbed in the smith's, oblivious to the brunette boy chasing up to you. you felt a tap in your shoulder, you turned around and took an earphone out.

"back so soon?" you giggled at his flushed cheeks.

"i love the smiths," he said.

"sorry?" you were slightly disorientated.

"i said i love the smiths."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[lov3notts]

you never knew

ᥫ᭡Mattheo Riddle x F!readerᥫ᭡

summary: mattheo regrets not telling you he likes you, but its to late because you've moved on.

warning: none, just a little sad

a/n: this drabble is heavily inspired by "back to the old house"- The smiths & that scene where Matt is listening to them during a party(ifykyk) sorry for the lack of fic's, college is kicking my ass right now

Navigation; masterlist; request rules

Multicolored lights danced across the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues on the laughing faces of people. The room was buzzing with excitement, but all Mattheo felt was a heavy weight on his chest. The laughter around him felt hollow, a stark reminder of his loneliness. 

Conversation blended into a blur when his eyes set on you. His heart ached as he stood there, feeling invisible in the crowd. His face falls, and a wave of sadness washed over him as your face lights up as Theo whispers in her ear. Your soft giggles filled the air, the way he used to make you laugh.

Mattheo feels a tight knot in his chest as he watches you smile and enjoy yourself with his best friend. 

His heart ached with regret, knowing he had let too many moments slip by without telling you how he truly felt.

There’s too many memories of all the time you guys spent together, every shared glance, every lingering touch. 

Dreams of his future together with you. His eyes lingered a little longer. Seeing you and Theo so embraced in each other, as if you were the only two in the world, seeing how effortlessly you two connect.

The saddest things he’s ever seen. 

You never knew how much he really liked you

Because he never even told you

But he meant too, he really meant to tell you but the fear of ruining your friendship or losing you all together kept him silent. The painful realization that things will never go back to how things were when you were guys were close. 

He turned away, seeking a way out of this moment. He slips out of the Slytherin dungeon, the cool night air hitting his face as he walks up the stairs. He walks away from the party, each step feeling heavier than the last. The sounds of music fade behind him, replaced by the quiet of the night. Lost in his thoughts, trying to come to terms that you will never be his.

All because he never told you how he really felt.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

more a/n: AHHH, thank you for all the support on my first fic!!! I am unbelievably grateful to each & everyone of you. I also wanted to say hiiii to my new followers:)) my asks are always open if you want to request or simply talk!! xoxo

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

divider by @enchanthings

[slut4slytherinss]

These feelings

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: in which reader and Mattheo despise each other, until the moonflowers bloom.

1,767 words

Warnings: no mention of the Slytherin friend group, Tom is Mattheo’s dad in this, surprisingly I’ve managed to write no cursing so.. ooc Mattheo! Rushed and not proofread, a total cliffhanger.

2nd person pov

Gryffindor reader

Female reader

The air in the Potions classroom crackled with more than just the fumes of Bubotuber pus. Mattheo Riddle, the epitome of Slytherin arrogance, smirked across the cauldron at you, a Gryffindor simmering with righteous indignation. His obsidian eyes, a chilling reflection of his infamous father, held a challenge you couldn't resist.

"Looks like your concoction resembles swamp muck more than Veritaserum, Gryffindor," Mattheo drawled, his voice a silken threat.

You bristled, your retort sharp. "At least I haven't resorted to cheating, Riddle." You knew it was untrue, at least in this class, but the way he effortlessly manipulated his potion, his every movement oozing practiced superiority, grated on your nerves.

Professor Snape, his usual scowl deepening, swept between your cauldrons, his black robes billowing like a storm cloud. "Silence! Riddle, five points from Slytherin for your disruptive commentary. Y/n, another five from Gryffindor for accusations. Now, focus on your potions!"

The rest of the double Potions lesson crawled by, punctuated by stolen glances and silent barbs exchanged between you and Mattheo. You couldn't deny a strange pull towards him, a morbid fascination that warred with your Gryffindor loyalty. He was everything you loathed – a dark echo of the war that had ravaged the wizarding world – yet you couldn't tear your eyes away from his sharp features and the way his lips curled into a sardonic smile.

-

Days turned into weeks, the animosity between you a constant undercurrent. You'd clash in Defense Against the Dark Arts, your jinxes meeting his hexes in a flurry of sparks. In Herbology, you'd find his carefully tended Venomous Tentacula mysteriously wilting, a silent message that only you understood.

One blustery April evening, you were returning from the library, a stack of Transfiguration books threatening to topple over, when you bumped into someone. Books scattered across the wet cobblestones, a frustrated groan escaping your lips.

"Need a hand, Gryffindor?"

Looking up, you met Mattheo's gaze. The smirk was absent, replaced by a hint of amusement. You considered letting him wallow in your misfortune, but a flicker of something… kindness? in his eyes softened your resolve.

"Actually, yes," you admitted grudgingly.

Together, you gathered the books, a comfortable silence settling between you as you brushed dirt off the parchment. As you handed him a particularly heavy tome, your fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity shot through you, making you gasp.

Mattheo's eyes widened for a fleeting moment before he masked his surprise. "Seems you're not immune to all Slytherin charms, Gryffindor," he said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Heat flooded your cheeks. You snatched the book back, stammering, "It's nothing. Just… static." You turned to leave, desperate to escape the unexpected turn of events.

"Wait," Mattheo called out, his voice softer than you expected. He hesitated, then added, "The greenhouses are open tonight. The moonflowers are supposed to be blooming."

You stared at him, unsure of his motives. Was this another one of his games? Yet, the allure of the moonflowers, a rare and beautiful sight, was too strong to resist.

"Fine," you finally conceded, surprising yourself.

-

The walk to the greenhouses was filled with a tense silence. You stole glances at Mattheo, his profile sharp under the moonlight. He seemed different tonight, a vulnerability lurking beneath his usual arrogance.

Reaching the greenhouse dedicated to magical flora, you were greeted by the ethereal glow of moonflowers. Their petals, the color of moonlight itself, shimmered with an otherworldly beauty.

"They're… amazing," you whispered, mesmerized.

Mattheo stood beside you, uncharacteristically quiet. "They say they grant wishes," he said, his voice barely above a murmur.

You scoffed. "Wishes? Like childish fairy tales?"

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the moonflowers. You felt a sudden urge to know him better, to understand the darkness that clung to him like a shadow.

"Tell me about your father," you blurted out, the words catching in your throat.

Mattheo's head snapped towards you, his eyes hardening. "Don't," he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Regret washed over you. You knew it was a forbidden topic, a raw nerve he wouldn't appreciate being prodded.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, turning away.

A tense silence stretched between you and Mattheo, broken only by the soft hum of nocturnal insects. The ethereal glow of the moonflowers seemed to mock the awkwardness, their delicate beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

"It's not that simple," Mattheo finally said, his voice low and strained. "He's powerful, yes, but there's more to him than just darkness. There's a reason some still follow him, a reason I can't entirely… disavow."

His words hung heavy in the air. You understood his hesitation. Voldemort, his father, was a symbol of pure evil, a name whispered in fear. Yet, a part of you couldn't help but feel a flicker of sympathy for Mattheo, burdened by the weight of such a legacy.

"Do you… fear him?" you asked softly, surprised by your own boldness.

Mattheo turned to you, his obsidian eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions you couldn't decipher. "Fear is a luxury I can't afford," he said finally. "But there's a constant… wariness. A knowledge that even the smallest misstep could have dire consequences."

You felt a pang of empathy for him. Despite his aloofness and occasional cruelty, Mattheo was just a boy, grappling with the burden of a monstrous father.

"You're not him, Mattheo," you said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "You have a choice."

He flinched at your touch, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then, slowly, he lowered his gaze to where your hand rested on his arm. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent question hanging between you.

The heat radiating from his arm beneath your touch was unexpected, a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air. His fingers twitched, a silent battle raging within him between acknowledging the connection and maintaining his usual stoic facade.

"I know," Mattheo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that's exactly what scares me." He turned away, his back ramrod straight, but you could see the vulnerability flickering in his tightly held posture.

"What scares you?" you asked softly, stepping closer. He remained silent, his jaw clenched, until you reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. His head snapped back, his gaze meeting yours, a storm of emotions brewing within.

"That this," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "this feeling… it weakens me." He gestured vaguely around the greenhouse, the unspoken implication clear - the vulnerability you represented put him at risk.

"Weakens you how?" you pressed, your voice a gentle challenge. "Makes you a target? Or makes you… feel something you haven't allowed yourself to feel before?"

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a grudging respect. He sighed, a tremor of vulnerability in the breath that escaped his lips. "Both," he admitted, his voice raw. "The truth is… I haven't allowed myself to feel anything for anyone other than myself in a long time."

His words hung in the air, a heavy confession. You understood. Growing up in the shadow of Voldemort, fear and suspicion were likely the only emotions he knew. The vulnerability he felt towards you was a foreign territory, something he didn't know how to navigate, something that scared him.

"Maybe that's not a bad thing," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe feeling something, even fear, is better than feeling nothing at all."

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your eyes. In that moment, the air vibrated with unspoken emotions – a mixture of fear, curiosity, and a spark of something else entirely.

"Maybe," he finally conceded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The tension started to dissipate, replaced by a cautious curiosity.

Suddenly, the harsh clanging of the castle curfew bell echoed through the night. Both of you jumped, startled by the sound.

"We should get back," Mattheo said, his voice regaining its usual composure. He offered you his hand, the gesture unexpectedly formal.

You hesitated for a beat, surprised by the formality of his outstretched hand. It was a stark contrast to the raw vulnerability he'd just revealed. Was he retreating back behind his Slytherin mask, the emotional connection a fleeting aberration?

Taking a deep breath, you slipped your hand into his. The warmth from his touch sent a jolt through you, a silent confirmation that the moment hadn't been entirely imagined.

"We should," you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

-

The walk back to the castle was filled with a comfortable silence, a stark contrast to the charged tension that usually surrounded your interactions. You stole glances at Mattheo, his profile etched sharp against the moonlight. He seemed different tonight, a vulnerability lurking beneath his usual arrogance, a flicker of hope battling the ever-present wariness in his eyes.

As you approached the castle grounds, the imposing silhouette of the building a stark reminder of the rules and boundaries that separated Gryffindors and Slytherins, Mattheo stopped abruptly.

"Wait," he said, his voice low.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray curl behind your ear. His touch lingered for a moment, sending shivers down your spine.

"This…" he began, his voice husky, "this can't happen again, can it?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The danger of their connection, the weight of his family legacy, the very real possibility of getting hurt – all of it swirled in the space between you.

"I don't know," you admitted honestly. "But maybe…" you trailed off, searching his eyes. "Maybe it doesn't have to be like this. Maybe there's another way."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a slow, hesitant smile. "Another way?" he echoed, a hint of hope creeping into his voice.

You stepped even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we can find a way to be… more. Not enemies, not exactly friends, but something in between. Something real."

He stared at you for a long moment, the moonlight glinting off the unshed tears in his eyes. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand.

"Maybe," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "Maybe we can try."

The bell tolled once more, a harsh reminder of the world outside their bubble. With a final lingering look, Mattheo squeezed your hand gently before turning and disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

-

A/n: would you guys hate me if I ended it like that?

[suugarbabe]

hii penelope, how are u doing? i have a writing sugestion

slytherin boys headcanons on the yule ball season, like how they would invite reader to dance and so on

i practice dance for hobby so i thought it may be a great ideia, hopefully you'll enjoy writing this!

Yule Ball Headcannons

Mattheo Riddle:

he doesn't ask you in a grand gesture, more so like he kind of traps you against the wall in a corridor, tone dripping with honey and silk telling you he'd go mad if you don't go with him

when you agree (because of course you do) he insists on buying your outfit for you, whatever you want (as enticing and flirty as you want because he can fight so he's not worried)

his dress robes match you effortlessly

some form of him is touching some form of you all night, there's never not a hand, finger, lip not touching you

he's a surprisingly good dancer, both traditionally and relaxed when the better more current music starts playing

you and him definitely leave early for some 👀 alone time before the others make it back to the dorms

Theodore Nott:

Theo is a shy boy at heart, especially with those he fancies (like really truly fancies)

he asks you by passing a charmed note, a cute little drawing of the two of you dancing drawn in the corner

you immediately say yes, nearly knocking him over when you jump on him after class

Theo's a little awkward on the dance floor when it comes to traditional dancing, but he does his best effort to twirl you when he should twirl you

and he's fantastic at dipping you because then he gets to kiss you passionately like the men he sees in old muggle movies that you show him

Theo takes you to the astronomy tower once you're both tired of the ball activities

hes obsessed with the way you disregard your attire and just sit on the floor, legs hanging over the edge while all the fanciness of your outfit pools around you as you share a spliff back and forth to cap out the night

Lorenzo Berkshire:

when Lorenzo asks you, it's not a grand gesture but an incredibly sweet one

he would buy your favorite candies and probably some flowers and come up to you in your common room, he'd kneel down in front of you, tell you how breath taking you were and ask you to accompany him to the ball

you'd of course say yes (because who can deny this sweet faced boy)

and then you'd go shopping with Pansy so Enzo would be surprised with how well you looked the night of

and it’s she who would convince you to get the perfect combination of classy and flirty

so when you come down the common room stairs wearing it Enzo's hands are immediately in front of him because there's no way you look that good (he thinks hes about to pass out)

all throughout the dance Enzo does not take his eyes off of you

he ends the night with the sweetest, longest, most passionate make out session that your brain goes fuzzy and he leaves you chasing for more

Draco Malfoy:

Draco is money; scratch that, Draco is wealth; not just wealth but generational wealth

when he asks you it isn't necessarily in person

but one day you get home from dinner and there's a large box on your bed

and when you open it you find the most impressive and (dare I say) gorgeous formal wear that you have ever seen, in your exact measurements, with a hand written poem

of which at the end just says 'all my love xx D'

so when you see Draco the next day at breakfast you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply

and when he pulls back he's laughing lightly with a "so is that a yes darling"

at the dance he's similar to Mattheo, surprising you with how good of a dancer he is

and you're enjoying each other so much that you're some of the last students there and you didn't even notice until you hear the last call

Blaise Zabini:

when Blaise asks you it's with jewelry in your birthstone

Blaise is elegance and silent power and it drips off him with everything he does

he pays for your outfit, and your shoes, and your jewlery for the evening

at the dance he accompany's you for a few songs

but he's secure enough to let you dance with just your friends for a couple songs as well

does the gentlemanly things and asks to "cut in" before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close for a slow song

at the end of the dance is when he tells you he loves you for the first time and it makes your heart swell because you're both dressed so fancy and it makes your brain go wiley thinking about what it would be like to be married to him once you both finish school

[raverinalavara]

Unfair Love 2

hey! its been a while since i wrote, I had a really hard time jumping back in but I'm in a mood! So we are restarting just as you are pulling out of your memories, right before Theo shows up! I have the last part already written, just need to edit it! Ive been taking on line writing classes, so hopefully I can get back into writing for HP fandom again. still not super sure of the use of this thing '-' instead of so many comments but I think I used it right? google docs didn't correct me so? 🤣

<<<PREV

MASTERLIST

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, trembling. “He hasn’t spoken to me in years, Tommy,” you sobbed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “And then he just shows up here—the night before I’m supposed to get married!”

Tom said nothing, but his jaw tightened, the fury he felt for Regulus simmering just beneath the surface.

You sucked in a harsh breath, and suddenly your tears turned into panic. “Oh my god.” You pulled back slightly, wide-eyed, your hands gripping Tom’s arms. “Teddy. What’s he going to think?”

Tom frowned, his expression softening. “Y/N—”

“No!” you cut him off, pulling completely out of your mind and away from his hold. In the real world, your movements were frantic as you scrambled to your feet. “What’s he going to think when he finds out I was crying over another man? When I should be relaxing and getting ready to marry him!”

Tom rose slowly, watching you with a careful eye as you began pacing back and forth, your hands tangling in your hair.

“This is a disaster,” you muttered, your voice thick with panic. “I’m a disaster.”

“You’re not a disaster,” Tom said firmly, but his words didn’t seem to reach you.

“I don’t deserve him,” you continued, almost to yourself now. “He’s been so good to me perfect, even—and I’m crying over Regulus Black, of all people. What kind of person does that make me?”

Tom stepped in front of you, stopping your frantic pacing with a gentle but firm grip on your shoulders. His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, the storm inside you paused. “You’re stronger than this” was all he said softly. You stared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you. Tom’s words felt like a lifeline, but they didn’t erase the fear gnawing at you.

“What if I ruin everything?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“You won’t.” His tone was resolute, grounding even if there was a look of disgust on his face. “Because for Theodore loves you. And because for whatever reason you love him.” Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were different—less frantic, more cathartic. Tom pulled you into another hug, his presence steady and unshakable. “You’re going to get through this,” he murmured.

 “And Regulus? He doesn’t get to take this moment away from you.” Tom sighed, his patience running thin as he stood, ready to stop you before you spiraled further. But before he could, the door flew open with a bang, slamming against the wall. Mattheo rushed in, his eyes frantic, scanning the room for you.

“Y/N—” Mattheo started, his voice full of urgency. But before he could reach you, he was shoved aside by another figure.

Your tall, sandy-blond fiancé moved into the room like a storm. “Tesoro,” Theo whispered, his voice low and aching with concern. In an instant, he was at your side, pulling you into his arms. The moment you felt his embrace, your knees buckled again, your body giving out under the weight of everything you’d been holding in.

But Theo held you. He always held you. His strong arms supported your weight effortlessly, his hand cupping the back of your head and neck with a tenderness that made your heart crack all over again. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured against your hair, his lips brushing your temple as he tried to calm you. “I’ve got you, amore. Just breathe.” Your shoulders racked with sobs, the sound breaking Theo’s heart into pieces. His free hand rubbed slow circles on your back, but the anguish on his face was impossible to hide.

 He looked over your head at Tom and Mattheo, searching for answers, for context—for something. Tom stood stiffly, his dark eyes locked on the door like he was daring Regulus to walk back in. His jaw clenched, his fury barely contained, though he kept himself rooted in place for your sake.

Mattheo, on the other hand, was pacing near the stairs, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. When Theo’s questioning gaze landed on him, Mattheo froze, torn between loyalty and the need to help his friend. He shifted uncomfortably, his jaw working as he struggled with what to say. Theo’s eyes narrowed slightly, silently urging him to explain, but Mattheo remained silent. He didn’t want to betray you—not when he knew how much trust you placed in him.

But he didn’t have to. You could feel Mattheo’s inner turmoil as clearly as your own, the bond between the three of you humming with shared tension. Gently pulling away from Theo’s chest, you wiped at your tear-streaked face, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “Regulus was here.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Theo froze, his head snapping back to you. His face was carefully blank, but you knew him too well to miss the storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. He tried to rein them in—tried to shield you from the surge of worry, frustration, and protectiveness that threatened to spill over. But his silence said it all.

His first instinct was worry. Had Regulus tried to hurt you again, emotionally or otherwise? Theo had worked so hard to show you what it meant to be loved, truly loved. So many patient dates, gentle gestures, and moments where he let you set the pace, even when his heart ached to pull you closer. He’d spent years proving that love wasn’t supposed to hurt, that you were worthy of care and respect.

But now, the man who had caused you so much pain had the audacity to show up on the eve of your wedding, threatening to unravel everything. Theo exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on you instead of the anger boiling in his chest. He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath.

You nodded weakly, but your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “I—he just—” You struggled to find the words, your voice breaking. “He just showed up. After all these years, Theo. Like nothing ever happened.” Theo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you speak. “I don’t know what he thought he wanted,” you continued, your voice trembling. “But it—it brought everything back. All the times he—” You choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Theo’s grip on you tightened slightly, his hand on the back of your head pulling you closer again. “You don’t have to explain,” he said quietly. “I don’t care what he wanted. He doesn’t matter, tesoro. Not anymore.” His words should have comforted you, but instead, they brought a fresh wave of guilt. You pulled back again, shaking your head as panic bubbled up in your chest. “But what if—what if this ruins everything?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if I ruin everything? You’ve been so good to me, Theo. And I’m standing here crying over him. What does that make me?”

“It makes you human,” Theo said immediately, his voice firm but gentle. “You’ve been hurt, amore. Deeply. That kind of pain doesn’t just disappear overnight. It doesn’t mean you love me any less. It doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.”

His words broke through your panic, and you stared up at him, your bottom lip trembling.

“You’ve grown up carrying so much more than you should’ve had to,” Theo continued, his hand still resting on your cheek. “But you’re not alone anymore. I’m here. And we’re going to walk into that chapel tomorrow, and you’re going to marry me. Because I love you, and there’s nothing—nothing—Regulus or anyone else can do to change that.”

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in a way nothing else had. For the first time since the door had opened, you felt a small flicker of hope—a reminder that Regulus’s shadow didn’t define you anymore.

Tom and Mattheo remained silent, watching from the edges of the room. Tom’s expression was unreadable, while Mattheo’s eyes softened as he saw the way Theo held you, his protective instincts easing now that you were safe in the right arms. You swallowed hard and nodded, leaning into Theo’s touch. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words cracking slightly, but no less true.

Theo smiled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “That’s all I need to hear, amore.”

Realizing you were still caught in the throes of a panic attack, Theo quickly turned to your brothers. “Tom, Mattheo—can one of you grab her some water and a snack?” His tone was calm but laced with quiet urgency, and they both sprang into action without hesitation.

As soon as they left the room, Theo scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you close to his chest. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, tesoro.” His voice was soft, soothing, the sound grounding you even as your body remained shaky.

In your room, Theo moved with practiced care, helping you into your pajamas and ensuring you felt safe and settled. By the time the two of you were lying side by side on the bed, the tension had begun to ease. Your breathing had steadied, and Theo was doing what he did best—making you smile.

“You know,” he said, grinning as he turned onto his side to face you, “Muggle superstitions say seeing each other the night before the wedding is bad luck.”

You sniffled, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “Good thing we don’t believe in bad luck.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Because there’s nothing unlucky about this.”

For a few minutes, the two of you traded lighthearted quips about Muggle traditions, and Theo cherished the way the sound of your laughter returned little by little. This closeness, this unshakable bond, was what he treasured most in the world.

Finally, as silence settled over the room, Theo tilted his head to look at you, his expression soft and full of love. “Do you remember what tesoro means?” he asked gently.

You sniffled again and nodded, but Theo raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently for you to say it aloud. “It means treasure,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady. He nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. “That’s right.” His hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “So…my tesoro couldn’t possibly be horrible. Not ever.”

Your eyes filled with fresh tears—not of sorrow this time, but of gratitude and love. Theo took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully.

“I get it, darling. He was your first love. There’s a lot of trauma wrapped up in that, and it’s not something you can just let go of overnight. But I know you’re not crying because you miss him. You’re crying for her—for 17-year-old you, for 15-year-old you, and all the versions of you he hurt. And that’s okay, amore. Because that’s how we heal.”

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, and when you looked up at him, it was with awe. How had you gotten so lucky to find someone like him?

Theo’s expression softened even further as he cupped your cheek. “I know it’s difficult for you, my love. This—open communication, understanding—it’s not something that comes naturally to you. And that’s okay. Just give me a little grace while I keep learning how to navigate you. I promise, one day, I’ll be an expert.” He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, letting the closeness give you both a second to steady yourselves.

When he finally pulled back, the smile he loved so much was back on your face. He sighed happily, relief washing over him as he leaned in to kiss your nose, earning a small laugh from you. “There you are,” he said softly, his green eyes lighting up at the sound.

For Theo, everything felt right in his world again. You were here, safe, and the love of his life was smiling. That was all he needed.

Almost.

As you nestled against him, slowly drifting toward sleep, Theo remained awake, his mind spinning. He understood where you were coming from—completely. Regulus had been a significant part of your past, and the pain he caused was something you needed to process. Theo could respect that. He would always respect you.

But Regulus?

No.

Theo’s jaw tightened, a rare sharpness flashing across his normally gentle features. While he tended to lean toward his mother’s Hufflepuff nature, there was a reason the Sorting Hat had placed him in Slytherin. There was a reason Tom and Mattheo trusted him to care for you, and why he’d earned the respect of even the darkest circles.

He knew how to remind people of their place.

And tonight, it was Regulus Black’s turn to learn.

The soft sound of your breathing was the only thing grounding Theo as he carefully slipped out of the bed. He moved slowly, mindful of every creak in the floorboards, every shift of the blankets. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, his tesoro, peacefully asleep at last.

But peace was the last thing on Theo’s mind.

Quietly shutting the door behind him, he descended the stairs with practiced ease, his thoughts churning like a storm. By the time he reached the drawing room, his emotions were barely contained—he wasn’t sure if he was seething or simmering, only that the heat in his chest demanded an outlet.

Inside, the fire cast a warm glow across the space. Mattheo sat slouched in an armchair, a sketchpad balanced on his knee as he worked on something intricate and dark. Tom, on the other hand, was pacing. Back and forth, like a caged predator. The sharp click of his polished shoes against the floor echoed in the quiet room, cutting through the heavy silence.

The moment Theo stepped in, both brothers looked up.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his quill pausing mid-stroke. “Figured you’d be asleep by now,” he muttered, though there was no real surprise in his voice. Theo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he moved to the mantle, bracing his hands on the edge as he stared into the flames. He could feel their gazes burning into his back, but he didn’t turn.

“Where’s the bastard now?” Theo finally asked, his voice low but tight with restrained anger.

Tom stopped pacing, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Gone. I made sure of it,” he replied, his tone cold and clipped. “But if you’re asking if he’ll stay gone-”

“He won’t,” Theo finished for him, his knuckles tightening on the mantle.

Mattheo sighed and tossed his sketchpad onto the table, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, Theo. Let’s hear it. What’s the plan? Because you’ve clearly got murder on your mind, and as much as I hate Regulus, I’d really rather avoid Azkaban this week.”

“Not murder,” Theo snapped, turning to face them. “But he doesn’t get to walk away from this unscathed.” Mattheo groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Look, I get it, alright? He’s a manipulative, self-absorbed prick, and I’d love nothing more than to see him humbled. But…” He hesitated, his dark eyes flickering toward the stairs. “She’s finally calm. She doesn’t need us dragging this out and making it worse.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “He showed up here, Mattheo. Here. The night before our wedding. He’s been tormenting her for years, and now he thinks he can waltz back into her life like he owns her? Like she’s some…some prize he can just claim when it’s convenient for him?” His voice rose with each word, the fury spilling out despite his efforts to contain it.

Tom, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he crossed the room to stand beside Theo.

“You’re right,” Tom said simply, his voice low and measured.

Mattheo blinked in surprise. “Tom—”

“No,” Tom cut him off, his sharp gaze locking onto his brother. “Theo’s right. Regulus needs to learn that his actions have consequences. He’s been allowed to play these games for far too long, and I’m not going to stand by and let him hurt her again.”

Mattheo frowned, his fingers twitching with agitation. “I’m not saying I disagree, but—”

“But nothing,” Tom interrupted. “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about protecting her. Making sure he understands that he doesn’t get to show up whenever it suits him and unravel everything she’s worked so hard to rebuild.” Tom stared down his brother, opening his mind to him, showing him some of the less personal memories you had shared with him before.

Theo nodded, his resolve hardening. “Exactly.”

Mattheo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. But if this backfires…”

“It won’t,” Theo said firmly.

Tom’s lips curled into a faint, dangerous smirk. “He’ll get the message. Trust me.”

Tom tapped a finger against the table he stood next to, his sharp mind already calculating. “If we’re going to send a message, it needs to be subtle. Effective but quiet. Something that will make Regulus understand his place without giving him the satisfaction of dragging Theo—or Y/n—into any mess.”

Mattheo leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed as he considered. “Subtle isn’t exactly my style, but I’ll bite. What are you thinking?” Tom crossed the room to the small cabinet near the corner, retrieving a decanter of firewhisky. He poured himself a glass, the faint clink of crystal the only sound as the fire crackled behind him. He took a measured sip before turning back to them.

“We remind him why no one crosses this family. No threats, no theatrics. Just a clear understanding that he’s not welcome here, or in her life, ever again.”

Mattheo arched a brow. “And how exactly do we do that without, you know, getting caught?”

Tom’s smirk was razor-sharp. “By playing to his ego.”

Mattheo tilted his head, intrigued but wary. “Go on.”

Tom set his glass down with a quiet precision that mirrored the calm before a storm. “Regulus thrives on control. He likes to believe he’s untouchable, that he holds all the power in any situation. So, we take that from him. Subtly. Publicly.”

Mattheo sat up straighter, his curiosity fully piqued. “Publicly? At the wedding?”

Tom nodded. “He’s arrogant enough to show his face tomorrow. He’ll keep his distance, but he won’t be able to resist lingering on the edges, watching her, trying to remind her he’s still there.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened. “Bastard.” Theo stood quietly by the bar, nursing his drink as the Riddle brothers go back and forth.  “Exactly,” Tom said. “Which is why we make sure he knows he’s unwelcome before he even gets the chance to interfere.”

“How?” Mattheo pressed, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. 

Tom’s eyes glinted with a dangerous kind of amusement. “We leave him a message tonight. Something personal, something he can’t ignore. And we make sure it’s delivered in a way that rattles him.”

Mattheo grinned, his usual mischief returning. Mattheo, ever the chaotic force of nature, gestured animatedly as he outlined ideas that ranged from mildly mischievous to outright illegal. Tom, on the other hand, was unnervingly calm, his sharp mind dissecting each plan with clinical precision, tweaking the details until every step was flawless. Their dynamic was fascinating—a perfect blend of chaos and control, a storm and its anchor.

Tom began pacing again, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. “Regulus values appearances. His pristine image, his reputation—it’s everything to him. So we send him a reminder that his actions have consequences, and we use something he holds dear to deliver it.”

Mattheo leaned forward, his grin widening. “Like what? His reputation? His family name?”

Tom shook his head. “No. Something closer. More personal.” He paused, a calculating glint in his eye. “His prized wand.”

 Theo couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude, despite the dark undertones of their plotting. He had been on the outside looking in for so many years, watching the infamous Riddle brothers command respect and fear in equal measure. 

Mattheo whistled low, impressed. “You want to go after his wand? That’s bold, even for you.” 

They were a force to be reckoned with, and most people either wanted to stay out of their way or curry their favor. But here he was, standing alongside them—not as an outsider, not as an enemy, but as family. They trusted him, respected him, and more importantly, they had welcomed him into the sacred circle that revolved around you.

Tom smirked. “Not the wand itself. Just…alter it. Temporarily. A subtle charm, something that makes it falter at the worst possible moment. Imagine him trying to cast a simple spell tomorrow and failing spectacularly in front of everyone.”

Mattheo chuckled darkly. “Humiliating. I like it. But what if he doesn’t use his wand at all tomorrow?”

He glanced at Mattheo, who was grinning wickedly as he mimed throwing Regulus into the Black Lake, and then at Tom, who shook his head with a smirk, clearly entertained but unimpressed by the dramatics. Theo knew that being on their side wasn’t just luck—it was a privilege. To earn their loyalty, their protection, and their trust meant everything. And now, standing there as they schemed to defend you, Theo felt a deep sense of belonging and pride.

Tom shrugged, his expression calm. “Then the charm wears off after twenty-four hours, and he’s none the wiser. No harm, no foul. But if he does use it? He’ll understand the message loud and clear.”

Mattheo frowned, his excitement tempered by a hint of caution. “And what if he traces it back to us?”

Because no matter what, he was part of this family now. And for you, for the life you deserved, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the Riddle brothers against anyone who dared to threaten your happiness.

Tom’s smirk widened as he looked over to Theodore. “He won’t. The charm will be subtle, almost undetectable. By the time he realizes something’s wrong, it’ll already be over.”

Mattheo considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’m in. But how do we get to his wand?”

Tom’s expression darkened with determination. “He’s staying in a nearby inn, isn’t he? We pay him a visit. Quietly.”

Mattheo stood, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “This should be fun. Let’s get to it.”

Tom held up a hand, stopping him. “Not yet. We wait until the early hours, when the inn is quiet, and he’s likely asleep. We’ll leave the wand where we found it, untouched aside from the charm. No confrontation, no evidence.”

Mattheo nodded, his grin returning. “Subtle and ruthless. Just my kind of plan.”

Tom scoffed before turning to Theo, who had remained silent throughout their exchange. “You’re staying out of this.”Theo didn’t argue. He knew better than to risk getting involved so close to the wedding. But as he met Tom’s steely gaze, his voice was firm. “Just make sure the message is clear.”

Tom’s smirk returned, colder this time. “Oh, it will be.”

As the front door closed softly behind Tom and Mattheo, Theo paused at the base of the stairs. The fire still crackled in the hearth, the house quiet now except for the faint creaks of settling wood. His heart felt heavy, but his resolve was unshaken.

He glanced toward the stairs leading to your room, his jaw tightening briefly before he began climbing. The weight of the night—the anger, the pain, the chaos—still lingered in his mind, but knowing you were peaceful and unaware of everything happening around you, grounded him. He had made you a promise, and while Tom and Mattheo dealt with Regulus, Theo knew where his place was—by your side.

When he opened the door, the soft moonlight spilling through the curtains painted you in silver. You were curled on your side, your features relaxed for the first time that night. Theo’s heart ached at the sight. Even in sleep, he could see the faint remnants of the pain that had lingered on your face earlier.

Sliding back into bed, Theo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently against his chest. You stirred slightly, instinctively curling closer to him, your face nuzzling into his shirt. His lips quirked into a soft smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As he watched you sleep, memories began to surface—memories he wished he could forget for your sake.

He thought of the stories your brothers had told him, the ones you had only ever hinted at but never fully spoken aloud. The house you grew up in wasn’t a home; it was a battlefield. Your father, a man consumed by his own darkness, had been more monster than parent. He had wanted power above all else, and you, Mattheo, and Tom had been pawns in his warped vision of the world.

Theo had seen the scars, the ones you didn’t think anyone noticed. Not the physical ones, though he knew those were there too, hidden beneath layers of silk and lace. It was the way you flinched at sudden movements, the way you hesitated to trust even those who had proven themselves loyal. The way you carried yourself like a fortress, walls raised high, but with cracks in the foundation that only those closest to you could see.

He stroked your hair gently, his fingers threading through the soft strands as his mind wandered further.

At school, you had been a picture of perfection on the surface. The rich girl with the impeccable uniform, the perfect grades, the sharp wit that kept others at a distance. But Theo had seen through it. He’d seen the way you stayed behind after class, lingering in empty corridors just to avoid going back to the dormitory. He’d seen the way you clung to Tom and Mattheo, how they became your shield and sword against a world that seemed to be more scared of you than you were of it. 

He thought back to the nights you would crawl into bed with your brothers, your body shaking with fear from nightmares you could never outrun. The trauma, the terror, all those long, sleepless nights when they held you close because they were the only ones who understood, the only ones who could give you any sense of peace.

But now, Theo was the one holding you. Now, it was him who would be there when the darkness crept in, when the memories of your past threatened to consume you. His hand softly brushed the hair from your forehead, and his fingertips traced the delicate lines of your face—your nose, your cheekbones, the curve of your lips. He made promises to himself then, silent vows that filled him with determination.

He promised he would never leave you to face your demons alone. He promised that he would be there to help you heal, piece by piece, until you could finally see yourself the way he saw you—strong, beautiful, deserving of every ounce of love and happiness that the world had to offer.

And most of all, he promised that you would never be alone again.

“You’re my world, Tesoro,” he whispered softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “I’ll spend every day making sure you know how much you mean to me. We’ll get through this, together. I promise.”

As he lay there, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest, Theo’s heart swelled with a quiet sort of peace. For all the struggles you had faced in your life, all the pain and loss, he would be there to help you find your way back to the light.

And no matter what, no one—least of all someone like Regulus—would ever take you from him.

NEXT>>>>>>

@helendeath @fallingblackveils @drstark56

[latenightwithpizza]

ah corg you write so effortlessly!! and the picture you add always add that extra oomph to the story!!! It’s like one of my fav things that you uniquely do 🥹

You blink, remembering how much more fun reading is when you don’t struggle with every letter. The realness lmfao

“You don’t need glasses to see that they’re not real friends.” Ain’t that the truth matty 💅

“Chapter 4 and don’t forget your glasses.” Mattheo whispers, you softly chew your lip as you fumble to get your glasses. “I think you look cute with them.”

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM also slay I love glasses reader sm 😍

hi!! Could I request a fic with like Mattheo and Theo, or either of them. The reader wears glasses but only for reading stuff so her "friends" makes fun of her and Mattheo or Theo comforts her?? Love your fics xx

I got this request a century ago, but I promised myself I would only post this if I finished the second request as a way of keeping myself motivated... Did not really speed up the writing process, but here we are! The good news is: I finished the second request... bad news, I will only post it if I manage to finish the third request.

Anyways, thank you for the request and I'm sorry for my absence, I hope you've all been well. Either way you all deserve the world and lots of happiness. Sending you lots of love! AND of course: Happy Readings!

Merlin, she looks beautiful

Reader that needs glasses with Mattheo or Theo

Gently you stroll through the endless bookcases searching for something that would help you and your friends with your Transfiguration’s group project. “Found it.” You mumble to yourself, thinking that no one would hear you. However, a sneaky slytherin was adoring you from a bit further. Lounging with his friends in a corner of the library his eyes traced you until Draco snapped his fingers. “You’re gonna start drooling if you don’t stop that.” Your eyes move to the laughter but you can only guess what it’s about.

Your friends groan as you drop the books on the table. Honestly you weren’t excited about it either, but the work had to be done. Everyone grabs a book. Flipping through the pages you quickly spot an interesting chapter. You squint your eyes as you try to read, cursing yourself you grab your bag searching for your glasses. You blink, remembering how much more fun reading is when you don’t struggle with every letter. 

Merlin, she looks beautiful. 

Your one paragraph in when your vision gets misty. Confused, you take off your glasses and everyone at your table starts laughing. The person opposite of you had used a spell to fog your glasses to everyone’s amusement. 

You felt your insecurities peak. Wearing glasses was new for you and you hadn’t quite adjusted to life with them, feeling a little stupid. “What’s up with the glasses? Are you going blind?” Someone at the table quipped, making the others chuckle. Instead of explaining why you had to wear glasses you just fell silent, everyone staring at you until you finally stuttered some words out. “I’m gonna read this later. I need to meet up with someone.” You could hear the snickering as you left the library. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken and turn around a corner, pressing your back against the wall you try to calm yourself. You look down at the glasses in your hand and for a moment you stare up the staircases. If you would go up and drop your ugly glasses, you would be rid of them forever. It wasn’t going to work like that, but for a second it seemed like a good idea to just pretend like you didn’t need them.

Theo

POV: Theo watching you when you hurried out of the library, clearly upset.

You sigh and turn to continue walking without having anywhere to go, but suddenly you feel magic tug at you. You’re swirled around so that you’re now face to face with Theodore Nott. “Ey bella, you seemed upset when you left the library.” You blink staring at Theo who you had never known to show emotion leave alone concern for you. “Uhm… no it’s fine. I’m good.” You nod a few times as a way of convincing him, compensating for your shaky voice. “You forgot this.” Theo shows you the case for your glasses. You stare at the pattern, a bit concerned about whether or not he thought it was cute or not. You mentally cursed yourself for caring about what Theodore Nott thought of you simply because he was a popular guy. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Thank you.” You reach for the case but Theo immediately lifts it higher and out of reach for you.

A slytherin bully playing around was really the last thing you could use right now. Even though Theo and his friends were notorious for causing trouble, you had always been spared from it… that is until now. “Can I please have it back?” You bravely ask, stressing the please and hoping that the slytherin would be merciful. “Only if you promise to find some better friends.” You meet his eyes and he can see the clear confusion. “They make you feel unhappy with yourself. You make yourself small when you’re around them, I’ve noticed and I don’t like it. So promise me you’ll hang out with other people.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You noticed? Have you been watching me or something?” At your question Theodore's confident smile turns into a nervous chuckle. “I’m allowed to admire beautiful things, am I not?” His eyes look at you with cheeky innocence. 

You blush and bite your lip. “Admiring, huh?” Theodore smiles at you and hands you the case for your glasses. “Yes… and I hate it when others dim your light.” You look away from him as you put your glasses in their case. “My friends aren’t that bad. The glasses just make me look silly.” Theo shakes his head at your words and closes the distance between the two of you. “I disagree.” His voice is raspy and you can’t believe the slytherin heartthrob is standing so close to you. “Bella, look at me. You’re gorgeous. Glasses or no glasses, you turn heads when you walk by.” You drown in his eyes as his words soothe all your insecurities. Theo gently pushes your chin up. “Promise me that you’ll hang out with better people.” He whispers with an enchanting voice. When you nod, he smiles and takes a step back. “Good.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and winks before walking away.

There’s a silence as you stare at him with dreamy eyes. “Hey.” You suddenly say, to your surprise, out loud.” You can feel your heart thump loud when he turns to face you. “Can I hang with you?” The left corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up and his hand leaves his pocket gesturing for you to come with him. “Of course. I don’t mind. I could admire you all day.” You bite your lip to try and hide your happy smile and walk with him. 

Mattheo

POV: Mattheo anything but pleased with your snickering friends as you leave the library with teary eyes.

“There you are.” You wouldn’t have thought those words were meant for you if you weren’t the only one there. With dumb eyes you stare at none other than Mattheo Riddle. “You alright, love? You seemed upset when you left the library in a hurry.” Your eyes widen at the realisation. You thought you were hiding it well but it was probably obvious to anyone with proper eyesight that you were close to crying when you practically ran out of the library. Mattheo took your silence as an invitation to get closer to you. Significantly closer. It made you worry what people would think if they saw you so close to him. Hogwarts loves juicy gossip. 

“You look gorgeous with or without glasses so don’t worry about it.” Mattheo smirks, confidence radiating off of him. Not knowing how to take the compliment, you chuckle and look away from the handsome slytherin towering over you. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?” You replied jokingly, but as soon as you meet his eyes you realise that considering who you’re talking to that it was a really bad joke. Your eyes fill with panic as you question whether to run or apologise. Meanwhile Mattheo lips form an amused smirk and his eyes playfully watch your nervous figure. “Not really, I was thought to never get caught in a lie. But what I said about your glasses was not a lie. It was a compliment. You’re gorgeous. Don’t doubt that, love. However, when the professors ask me later if I had anything to do with turning your friends’ hair into snakes, I’ll lie without shame.” Your mouth drops when you hear his confession. You immediately forget the sweet things he just said and panic. “What! Oh Merlin, no! Why did you do that?” As you try and walk away, back to your friends Mattheo stops you. “They deserve it and you know that. You don’t need glasses to see that they’re not real friends.” He’s still holding onto your wrist when you move closer to him. You let your head hang in defeat for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But still no reason to hex them.” 

You give Mattheo a judging look, but your soft smile gives away that you don’t really mind that he hexed them. His eyes land on your smile as he chuckles. “Hexes were invented specifically for people like them.” You shake your head but at the same time you feel yourself drawn to him. His hand moves from your wrist to your hip. “You’re stunning. So don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about yourself.” 

Just when Mattheo is about to make a move Pansy’s coughs, making you jump and take a step back. Standing at the end of the hallway, a very sassy looking Pansy darts her eyes between you two. “Am I interrupting something?” She asks with obvious fake innocence. You immediately shake and say your goodbyes to Mattheo. 

“What did I ever do to you, Pansy?” Mattheo asks after he watched you leave. “I think it was something you said in first year.” Pansy bluntly answers before walking away. Mattheo nervously chews his lips wondering if you were okay and curious if you had felt the heat as much as he did.

***

You had gotten so flustered after Pansy had caught Mattheo and you so close together that you went to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes. Feeling fresh and calm you step outside again, only to realise that you were late for class. You rush in to find Mcgonagall stare at you in disappointment. “Let’s not waste anymore time standing there. Take a seat.” You nod, wanting to disappear now that the whole class is staring at you. You look to your left to see Mattheo sitting alone. Puppy eyes locked onto you.

Look at his eyes!!!!

You freeze as you feel the heat on your cheeks return. I must look like a tomato. Mcgonagall turns away from the board to see you still standing up. “Miss (l/n), is there a problem?” Her stern voice sends shivers down your spine and you feel like you’re a first year again. Within seconds you're seated next to Mattheo with your books in front of you. “Hello again.” Mattheo whispers amusement ringing in his voice. You nervously flip through the pages. “Chapter 4 and don’t forget your glasses.” Mattheo whispers, you softly chew your lip as you fumble to get your glasses. “I think you look cute with them.” At those words you turn to Mattheo with glasses, blushed cheeks and wide eyes. He gives you a cheeky wink… and that class you did not hear a thing the professor said to you.

Picture 1: I lost the source, sorry 😞

Picture 2: https://pin.it/57e7ZitKL

Picture 3: https://pin.it/5i3RGZvgQ

Picture 4: https://pin.it/37cX6axUM

[aur0ral1ghts]

ᴄʜᴇᴇʀ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ; ᴄʜᴇᴇʀʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ǫᴜᴅᴅɪᴛᴄʜ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ

ᴡᴀʀɪɴɢs; ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ʜᴏᴛ ᴀғ. ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. sᴡᴇᴀʀs.

You entered the cheerleader change rooms, and you placed your foot on a wooden bench as you pulled up your white and green socks to your knees. You changed into your green and sliver cheer uniform. You brushed out your hair as you tied it up, placing a green ribbon in it. "Exicted?" You heard your friend say who's also a cheerleader. "Yes, but a little nervous. What if i mess up?" You nervously said, bitting your lip, as you fixed your hair a little more. "Don't worry, we practiced the routine more times than I can count." She chuckled, patting your back in reassurance.

After a while, you and your team were called up, and a choruse of applause was all you could hear. You were head cheerleader, which made you even more nervous. At the end of your routine, your cheermates and you would have to do a human pymaid. Though you practiced it multiple times, you still felt a pit of anxiety filling your stomach.

You watched as the Slytherin Quidditch team began to fly out into the fields, the wind blowing their hair messily. It was the first match of the season. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. The Slytherins were determined to win, not wanting some stuck-up Gryffindors winning instead of them.

As the announcer, Lee Jordan, begins to talk, you and your team begin to do your cheer, and the crowd goes absolutely wild, as you guys wave your pom poms in the air in support for the Slytherin team. "Give it up for the Slytherin cheerteam!!" He shouts. You began your routine.

So far so good

You repeated in your head. After a minute or two, you took in a shakey breath as backed up. As your teammates stacked up, you slowly climbed on top of them, the cold air blowing your ponytail in the wind. You impressed the crowd your moves. Your gaze stuttered on Mattheo, who's frozen on his broom, gripping the handle tighter, his eyes piercing into you. His mouth crippled into a smirk. Your eyes made their way back to the screaming crowd. You couldn't let Mattheo distract you. You chuckled and sighed in relief once you landed. "Thank you to the Slytherin cheerteam again!" Yelled Lee Jordan. You took a huge sip of water as you sat down on a bench with a few of your friends. Watching the match begin.

You watched as Mattheo flew effortlessly on his broom, going almost as fast as lighting. The humid air coated his skin. You couldn't help but stare, the way his uniform looked on him, the way he squinted his eyes slightly, taking in the scenery around him. The way he gripped the broom handl-

Stop.

You thought you couldn't be thirsting over your enemy! But yet again, you couldn't help but feel attached to him. He was handsome, sure, but you couldn't help but feel your heart beat faster every time he would talk to you. He had such a way with words you didn't even know was possible. And that one time you found him writing poems and sketching in his journal watching the stars at night on the astronomy tower, you realized maybe he wasn't so bad.

Mattheo found it easy to push your buttons. He would always find a way to tease you. He found it assuming, entertaining even. The way your forehead would crickle in annoyance. The way your eyebrows would fury. He noticed everything about you. He possibly even wrote a poem about you but quickly threw it away once he realized what he was doing, he even mumbled a spell to make it simply disappear out of thin air just incase someone saw it. He denied his feelings for you, constantly trying to convince himself he wasn't attracted to you, when Indeed he was. He yearned for you sliently, watching you sit there and look so effortlessly perfect while laughing with your cheermates on the opposite end of the table in the great hall.

He found it hot that you were a cheerleader. He loved your green glitter eyeshadow with a black cat eye. He found it extremely sexy. Every chance he got, he would focus his gaze to you, effortlessly moving your body, chanting a cheer. He bit his lip, imagining you were cheering for him, and only him. Unfortunately, half of the male population of Hogwarts also found you extremely beautiful. At least three times a month, you would get asked out. You kindly rejected then all, knowing your heart deep down only had it bad for one boy, and that being Mattheo Riddle.

-

"SLYTHERIN WINS!" Lee Jordan yells out, the Slytherin side of the crowd begins to go wild. You waved your pom poms up in the air, moving your body with the noise of the crowd. You watched as the Gryffindor players frowned and groaned. The players slowly made their way to the ground, congratulating their mates.

Your eyes drifted onto Mattheos' sweaty body, his curls slightly stuck to his forehead as he wiped his head with the back of his hand.

Shit - that was hot.

You bite your lip as he begins walking closer to you. You simply froze in your spot, looking a different direction. You thought he was just heading back to the change room to shower or whatever.

"Pretty cool, the trick you did." He chuckled, leaning against a wooden pillar. "Oh, uh, thank you, I guess." You shurged, trying your best to stay cool. "You're welcome." He says cooly, taking a step closer to you. You felt his warm body heat. He began to fidget with your ponytail, tugging it slightly. You just looked up at him. "You should probably take a shower. You smell like a bloody troll." You faked a disgusted face, covering your nose. But he didn't even smell bad. He just smelt like that familiar scent you eventually grew fond of. The scent of cold air still lingered on him. "Whatever you say, princess." He shurged, walking away, once again wiping sweat from his forehead.

You furrowed your eyebrows as he walked away. Was he flirting with you?

Ha, no way..

You guys were enemies. Everyone knew that, hell, even the Profossors did! They knew better than to put your seating avengements next to each other in fear of you guys blowing up the place out of pure spite or something. Everyone in hogwarts, even the ghosts, knew you guys loathed each other. But lately, your relationship with one another has been getting a bit...odd.

You turned your head, but Mattheo was already gone. You huffed deeply, taking in some cold, crisp air as you wandered back to the change rooms. The temperature had dropped a little, so you put on a leather jacket. You decided to just shower at your dorm since the showers here were small and seemed to run out of hot water faster. You walked over to the sink, examining your reflection, before splashing some cold water onto your face.

You wrapped your arms around you. You didn't know why, but your legs seemed to take you in front of the boys' change room. You wanted to just walk away, but your legs refused. It felt like someone placed the leg locking jinx on you. You waited underneath the stands, shielding you from the wind.

You waited as you saw many players begin to leave. Then Mattheo walked out. His eyebrows rose up when he saw you, simply waiting. "Uh, Mattheo." You call out. "Mhm?" He answers back, walking closer to you.

Merlin, have mercy.

"I forgot to say, but congratulations. You did pretty good." You smiled at him. Mattheos' heart did a mini backflip. "Suriprised you didn't fall off or anything." He chuckled at your lame attempt to insult him. "I almost did when I saw you in that little cheer outfit of yours." He whispered in your ear. You felt your cheeks heating up, though it was chilly outside.

"I-" you began, but it was too late. He was causally walking off.

-

That night, you laid down in your bed, simply just thinking about Mattheo. About your interaction with him. You sliently cursed yourself for being so flustered around him. That was the complete opposite of what you were known for. You were known for your confidence and your attitude. And know, you could barely even form a simple insult at Mattheo. Did he make you that nervous?

You got up from your bed, clearly frustrated as you paced around your room.

What the bloody hell was this boy doing to you?!

You thought. He was clouding your thoughts. He were all you could think about.

You decided to get some fresh air, so you trailed up to the astronomy tower to try to relax. That's when you saw a tall dark figure, leaning against the railing. You couldn't see who it was due to their back facing you. You could smell the cigarette smoke radiating off of them. That's when it clicked. It was Mattheo. The very boy you hoped you wouldn't see.

"Riddle." You say, your voice barley audible. He turned around, his breath heavily. You secrectly admired him. The way the moons softly lit light was casting on him. He looked so damn handsome that it made your heart ache.

"L/n.." He replies back. You slowly make your way to the railing as well. Mattheo walked you, a cigarette hung low between his lips. "Uh, you want one?" He offers. "Hm, thanks." You smile as you grab the cigarette from his mouth. He looked dumbstruck for a second. He reached in his pockets and gave you the lighter to light it.

He watched as you lit the cigarette with one hand while you used your other hand to cover it so the wind didn't blow it out. He thought he would never see a sexier sight. He took a deep breath.

"So..why are you up here?" He asks, looking back to the moon. His side profile was definitely something. His jawline was very sharp.

"Just.. had a lot on my mind." You shuffled uncomfortablely. "What was on your mind?" He asked. "Uh," you paused. You felt your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. You took a deep breath to calm you.

"I was thinking about you, actually-" you muttered, your voice low. You looked down in embrassment.

Mattheo was next to feel his face turn pink.

"What!?" He says, his eyes piercing into you. "You seem.. flustered." You giggle softly. "No shit, the most gorgeous women just admit she thinks of me!" Mattheo huffed. You were now a blushing mess.

"You think im gorgeous!" You squeal, raising a hand to hit his shoulder in a playful manner. He caught your hand. You two just simply stared into eachothers eyes. He watched as you parted your lips.

"Mattheo-" you began. "What are you doing?" You took in a shakey breath. "Something I should have done a while ago.." he leans in. "Y/n..i don't want to be enemies anymore.." you heart did atleast 10 back flips.

His hand let go of your wrist as you placed with hands on his chest. "Me either." You whispered, and with that, he smashed his lips onto yours, his hands moved over to your waist.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. You nodded. "Yes."

He picked you up and placed you on top of the railing. You looked down, the drop was at least 100 feet down. "Dont worry, I've got you." He said, holding you tight.

You spread your legs open a bit, allowing him to go in between them. He placed a single hand on your thigh, caressing it, rubbing circles on your bare skin. You leaned down a bit and kissed his forehead.

"So damn beautiful." He mumbles, looking up at you.

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

I’m his what?

(I’m fast forwarding the part where Hope saves Scott, they shrink the core. Because I have to get to the juicy Parts!)

Part 3:

Janet told you to stay with Hank. Of course, you didn’t listen.

You hide behind a rock as you peek to see what was happening.

“WE HAD A DEAL!” Scott yells. The man in green and purple armor grabs the core out of his hands without even moving. “He’s like me!” You whisper. Scott and Hope start to attack him but he throws them out of the way. A sense of yearning makes you want to run and hug him. You didn't know him, but you... do?

Kang stops talking as he senses your presence. "Sweetheart?" He questions. You freeze. "You can come out sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you." He says. You stand up trembling. "Y/n, my love." He says, walking over to you. "I don't know you." You say. Kang freezes again. He didn't believe it. Even though MODOK said so, he didn't believe him.

"You have to! Sweetheart!" He shakes you and raises his voice. You whimper. "Stop you're scaring me! Please stop!" Kang stops. He rakes his gaze over you. You were still his wife; she just wasn't there. His loving, doting wife. The woman he's destined to be with, his sunlight, his star, him. She was gone.

"YOU CAN'T BE GONE!" He yells and you flinch. He sinks to his knees and for the first time in his (everlasting) existence, he cried like a baby. "You can't be gone." He sobs. You were all he wanted, all he needed. That was all. His wife, the love of his life gone? Hell, he wanted his existence to end. He wanted everything to end.

You kneel down and wipe his tears away. "It's okay." You whisper. You didn't know this man, hell, you were terrified. But you wanted to wipe his tears, you wanted to. A connection that you felt but didn't remember, but felt. Then, you feel lips press on yours.

Your eyes widen as he kisses you. You stay frozen, and memories start flooding in. Someone pulls you away from his grasp. Janet. She pulls you behind her. "Stay away from her!" She says. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" Kang shouts. "The right thing to do. You're a monster Kang." "A MONSTER?" He laughs. "THERE WOULDN'T BE A MONSTER IF YOU HAD LET HER STAY WITH ME!" He shouts. He places his mask on and Janet stiffens. This was it. She was going to die.

"Nathan?" You say. Janet's eyes widen in horror as Kang's mask disappears. "Y/n?" He says. "Nathan!" You try to run toward him but Janet pulls you back. "Mom?" You say. "Don't go to him." She growls. "Mom! It's okay!" You say.

“You cannot trust him, Y/n! He’s not who you think he is!” Janet yells. “DON’T LISTEN TO HER!” Kang yells, his eyes flaring blue. You flinch at his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you sweetling.” He holds his hand out to you. “Come here sweetheart. Come on.” You take a step forward. “Y/n no!” Janet yells. Kang closes her mouth effortlessly. You walk up to him, and he takes your hand and presses his forehead against yours. “Let’s go home, shall we sweetness?” He says. "Yes." He pulls you into a passionate kiss, glad to feel your lips against his again. "I'll see you all soon." He says. And disappears with you, Jane crying out in anguish.

"We need to get Y/n and Cassie back NOW." Scott says.

PART FOUR IS COMING SOON! I'm watching Creed 3 tomorrow, so I might start a series on that with my Kang series. And for those who were requesting a Mattheo Riddle series, I am so sorry, but you had to vote on that. My Creed series won't have a poll. But for now in the future, I will have polls to decide whether or not to write a series from whatever I am interested in at the moment. But that doesn't mean that I will not write the series for Mattheo. And for my people requesting to get tagged, that will be at the middle or end of the series, because there is a LOT of you. I hope everyone stays safe and has a good day/ night/ afternoon!