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tomriddleslove · 2 months

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The Black Lake, a shared blunt, and realisations.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo has had enough. Everyone and everything seems to be agitating him, and he feels as though he can’t catch a break. Then you come along. Alternatively: You may just be his saving grace, hidden in plain sight.

Slight? Angst but mainly fluff

A/N: I get all my fic ideas when listening to music so bear with me when I say there’s a very certain vibe to this and you have to know the song to understand it.

Songs: Tek it - Cafuné

The clock strikes noon, and Mattheo couldn’t be more than relieved to finally leave the stuffy clasroom. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he swiftly makes his way out of the classroom, ignoring the agitated glares of the other students he had so rudely shoved past.

Now Mattheo wishes he could say he wasn’t this rude that often. He didn’t really go out of his way to fight people per se, but it just so happened to be that he was quite confrontational and rather good at resolving things with his fists. However these past few days he had been more on edge than usual, snapping at almost everyone for reasons that were far beyond him.

Everything seemed to agitate him immensely, from the way lessons seemed to drag on, to his deskmates who all seemed to have a penchant for being the most agitating, infuriating people possible.

I mean, seriously? What could compel a person to chomp down on a beef sandwich in the middle of class at 10 in the morning? The professor may not have noticed but Mattheo most certainly did, having to spend the last hour with a raging headache trying to ignore the obnoxious chewing sounds and the revolting smell of beef.

He all but almost cries as he collapses down onto the sofa in the common room, grateful for the fact that everyone else seemed to have lessons currently. He closes his eyes for a millisecond, letting out a small sigh of frustration.

He feels the sofa dip beside him and that same frustration returns. He opens his eyes, ready to snap at whatever poor person had decided to sit next to him, but his gaze immediately softens when he realises it was you.

“Oh,” He murmurs, and a lazy grin tugs at your lips as you look over at him, raising a brow.

It’s remarkable just how quickly his mood seems to lighten when he sees you.

“Oh?” You repeat, amused.

“Mhmm. Just not in the mood for it recently and thought you were Belby or some other git. I was ready to hex you.” He murmurs, and you roll your eyes in mock admonishment as you reach for your book, leaning back into the sofa as you thumb through the pages.

“Charming, Riddle. Really, I feel flattered.” You say sarcastically, and the corners of Mattheo's mouth quirk upwards.

You and Mattheo were part of the same extended friend group. You weren’t the closest with him, yet you weren’t absolute strangers. You didn’t talk that much to one another, but got along surprisingly well. Mattheo was one of the only people (bar Blaise) who could match your wit and dry humour, and you were one of the few (if not only) people who didn't seem to annoy him.

You pay him no mind as you read your book, and with any other person, Mattheo would have been largely grateful for that. But for some bizarre reason, he wants you to speak to him.

He glances over at you for a second, admiring the way the gentle glow from the fireplace illuminates your face as you read.

How oblivious could one get?

You break the silence, peering down at your book as you speak.

“Do you have a double free period?”

Mattheo hums, looking over at you. He wants you to look up at him so badly, and he can’t tell why. It seemed as though he’d need a slap in the face to make him realise why he craved so much attention from you.

He shifts on the sofa, trying to appear nonchalant as he replies, "Yeah, luckily. No classes for the rest of the day. What about you?"

You glance up from your book, meeting his gaze with a faint smile. "Same here. Wanna come walk around with me?” You ask, and Mattheo nods, albeit a bit confused as to why you’d want to wander around in such cold weather aimlessly.

You reach into your robe pocket, producing a neatly rolled joint with a cheeky wag of your eyebrows. A grin spreads across Mattheo's face as he looks at you, and he raises a brow in mock disappointment.

“Am I seeing correctly, or has the academic prodigy of Hogwarts just suggested we use our valuable study time to get high?”Mattheo taunts, and you scoff, getting up.

“Piss off, Riddle. Are you coming or not?” You retort, glancing back at him.

He looks up at you, and his gaze lingers far too long on the way your eyes light up, your mouth forming a gentle curve as you smile at him and-

Oh god, Mattheo never really stood a chance, did he?

He nods, getting up as he grabs his robe and follows you. You both meander aimlessly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, poking fun at the unfortunate students who still had lessons. As you walk past a classroom you catch a glimpse of Theodore, chin resting atop his palm as he sleepily gazes at the board. You snicker, nudging Mattheo as you both hide at the side of the doorway, peering into the class. Mattheo wraps an arm around your waist, moving you behind him and you ignore the way you reel at his touch, dazed for a second.

It doesn’t last long, however, for you're drawn out of your short-lived crisis when you spot Mattheo pulling his wand out from his pocket, discreetly pointing it in Theodore’s direction. It was rather astounding seeing how no other students in the class noticed you, but Professor Binn had a rather uncanny knack for getting people to fall into a zombie-like state of fatigue whenever they were in his class. You were convinced it had to be some sort of superpower.

With a short flick of his wand, Theodore's eyes widened as he yelped, hand shooting up to clasp over his upper arm.

As Theodore's yelp echoes through the classroom, everyone snaps out of their daze, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the disturbance. Theodore grimaces, sheepishly looking down as he tries to play it off. Unable to contain your laughter anymore, you snort, and the sound has everyone turning to look outside the classroom.

Mattheo grabs your hand, pulling you along as the two of you run down the corridor, laughter bubbling up from deep within you.

As you round a corner, out of sight from the classroom, you finally come to a stop, breathless from both the running and the laughter. Mattheo leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he looks at you with sparkling eyes.

It was amazing how he had gone from being so irate to so…. Carefree. He felt alive with you, like he could forget about the countless burdens that weighed down on him day in and day out.

“That was bloody brilliant,” You wheeze, clutching your ribs as you laugh. Mattheo grins, panting as he nods.

“Theodore’s hilarious. Can’t wait to hear him complain about that later on,” He muses and you snort, straightening up. You jerk your head to the side, motioning for him to join you as you slip out of the castle onto the school grounds. You leisurely walk down the fields, heading towards the Black Lake.

You stop at a large cluster of rocks near the surface of the water, plopping down on the slightly damp grass. Mattheo joins you, long legs stretched out in front of him as you fish around your pocket. His arm presses against yours and you’re immediately warmed by the heat coming off his body, trying to ignore the intoxicating aroma of his cologne filling your senses.

You hit Mattheo's thigh with your hand, nudging him to get the lighter as you place the blunt between your lips. He obliges, cupping his hand around the flame as you lean down to light the tip, taking a few drags. You pass it over to Mattheo, tilting your head back as you exhale with a sigh. Mattheo mimics your actions, letting out a low groan as he passes the blunt back to you.

“Shit, this is fucking good.” He murmurs, eyes flickering over to you as you take another drag.

You speak, blunt dangling between those perfect lips of yours that Mattheo can’t seem to tear his eyes off of.

“Should be,” You muse, handing it over to Matteho as he takes another long drag. “I sucked dick for it.” You comment offhandedly and Mattheo splutters, coughing as he smacks his fist against his chest, looking over at you in disbelief. You look at him with a lazy grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

“Relax, of course I didn’t. But with the price it came at I may as well have.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“So ladylike” He teases and you roll your eyes for what must be the umpteenth time, slapping his thigh as you snatch the blunt back.

You remain silent for a while, and it's oddly comforting. Just you and Mattheo, passing the blunt back and forth between one another as you overlook the black lake. The setting sun is reflected in the ripple of the water, golden rays dancing along the small waves that give the illusion of the lake being made of pure gold.

Mattheo leans back on his elbows, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. You're reclined beside him, the gentle lapping of the water providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Riddle, what's been bothering you lately?" you ask casually, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Mattheo hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he considers his response. He's never been one to open up easily, but there's something about the softness in your voice that makes him want to confide in you.

"Just...everything, I guess," he admits finally, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I feel like I'm constantly on edge, and I'm not sure why.”

Your gaze remains on the lake, a pensive expression on your face as you hum.

“I get it. I suppose for all their goodwill it's a bit hard for the boys to understand that.” You murmur and Mattheo chuckles, looking down at the long strands of grass he was fiddling with.

“Tell me about it”

You remain silent for a second longer, before turning to face Mattheo. He looks up at you and feels as though he's pinned down under your gaze. It’s as though you were dissecting his very being, staring at him with a calculating look before you speak once again, your voice low and soft.

“You don’t always have to be a hardhead. You don’t need to dismiss how you’re feeling. We aren’t meant to have this figured out yet. We’re still young, with so much to learn. What’s the point of life if we know it all now?”

Mattheo listens to your words, feeling as though you've peered straight into his soul and laid bare all his insecurities. There's a wisdom in your words that resonates deeply with him. It's as though you possess a wisdom beyond your years, a rare insight that he finds both intimidating and captivating.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

That god-forsaken smile appears on your face again, and you look over at Mattheo.

“Don’t. Someone has to tell you this, right? I love Nott to bits but I doubt he has anything but quidditch on his mind.” You joke, and Mattheo laughs.

You seamlessly lighten the mood, and Mattheo is eternally grateful for that. Really, he’s grateful for you. He can't think of the last time he's laughed so much. Or felt so free. Perhaps it was the weed, that had lowered his inhibitions and relieved him of his stresses.

But no, it was a drug far worse than that. He had just gotten a taste of it and he knew he would be hooked on it. It came in the form of you, and gods was it dangerous.

There's a heavy silence between the two of you, broken by the sound of rustling as Mattheo sits up abruptly, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, wanna go closer to the edge of the lake? I think I saw something cool over there," he suggests, his tone playful as he nudges you with his elbow.

"What, are you trying to pull some sort of prank on me, Riddle?" You ask, your tone sceptical as you raise an eyebrow.

Mattheo feigns innocence, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Who, me? Never," he replies with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Despite your reservations, you can't help but be intrigued by Mattheo's suggestion, and with a shrug, you agree to accompany him to the water's edge.

You walk a few steps to the surface of the black lake, peering down at your own reflection for a second. You turn to Mattheo, caught off guard when he gives you a playful shove.

You yelp, reaching out instinctively to grab onto Mattheo as you lose your balance. Instead of regaining your footing, you find yourself slipping on the dampened grass near the edge of the lake and falling backwards into the water with Mattheo.

The icy cold water seems to seep into your body, eradicating any hint of warmth. You resurface with a gasp, brushing your wet hair away from your face as you tread water, your robe floating around you in the water.

Mattheo resurfaces moments after you, his curly brown hair now plastered against his forehead, droplets of water glistening in the fading light. He blinks the water from his eyes and looks at you with a playful grin.

“Why did you do that!” He gasps, though his tone is lighthearted and playful.

You roll your eyes, splashing him in retaliation. “You practically threw me in there! I just needed to find my footing!” You retort, indignified.

Mattheo chuckles, the sound echoing across the stillness of the lake. “Fair point.” He concedes.

Not a second later, however, he splashes you with water, somehow drenching you even further.

“Mattheo!” You gasp, sending a wave of water back at him. The two of you playfully fight in the water, and you laugh, head tilted back. It's a scene straight out of a childhood fantasy, the cares and worries of the world melting away beneath the warm glow of the setting sun.

Mattheo pauses, and his heart pounds against his sternum as he hears your laugh. It’s loud and it's unabashed, and it's the most perfect thing ever. You smile, and he feels as though he can't breathe, you had to have stolen his breath.

The golden rays of the sun illuminate your skin, catching in the droplets of water that cling to the wet tendrils of your hair. You looked like an image out of a Renaissance painting, and Mattheo is sure the sun must hide itself in shame, for on its brightest day it couldn’t compete with your radiance.

He takes in the way the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on your features, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones and the sparkle in your eyes. He’s sure the image must be etched into his mind, permanently engraved. He knows when he closes his eyes, all he will see is the image of you, and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, he welcomes it.

In your presence, he feels alive in a way he never has before. He will wake up tomorrow and face all the trials and tribulations the universe has to throw at him. For now, however, the sun is shining. The water is cold, but you make him feel warmer. The gentle sound of water sloshing about fills the silence, the horizon is beautiful.

Everything was alright.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader comfort #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff

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kolsangel · 25 days

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TAKING SLYTHERIN BOYS SMAU(TEXTMESSAGES)/ HEADCANONS REQUESTS

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phas3d · 4 months

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Comforting You | Slytherin Boys

masterlist!

type :: angst, comfort

tw/cw :: death (draco), eating + passing out (mattheo), depression + eating (theodore), bullying + panic attack (lorenzo)

members :: draco, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

Draco (acts of service / gift giving)

Teasing you was Draco's full time job, no matter the time, day, or place. You knew this very well and got used to it over time

But during flying class, you lost your special necklace. Many people didn't understand your frantic state and ignored you as you flew to the ground to search for it

It was the necklace your best friend gave you in elementary school. It was the only remaining item you had of them after they died.

As you searched the ground, Draco made fun of you and called you dramatic, materialistic, and more insults. But your already overwhelmed mind from losing your necklace and the degrading comments led you to cry as you continued to search.

"You flew around the entire area and river, only to notice NOW that your necklace is missing? You idiot, it's probably in the river or some animal stole it." Draco said as he scoffed at you as you continued to crawl on the floor and search every crevice for the necklace.

There is no voice of reason in Draco's head, so he instinctively kicked you, making you fall onto your side. He was about to laugh and call you pathetic, but he saw the tears stream down your face. Everything was too overwhelming as you reminisced about your past best friend and the negative comments Draco kept stating.

He panicked at the sight of your tears, instantly shutting his mouth. He pulled you up so that you would stand, making strong eye contact with you which you avoided like the plague.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong??? I'll buy you a new necklace!" He says in a desperate attempt to comfort you. "It's okay! You'll get a new one-"

"I don't want a new one!" You said firmly, as you got out of his grip and searched once again. Draco wasn't dumb, he knew the necklace must have had some significance to you.

He sighed, hating how you made him do thing he never thought he'd do. With a wave of his wand and a few words, every piece of metal within the area came flying towards him.

You stood up, searching through the floating pieces of random metal until you found your necklace and smiled widely. The second you saw it, you instantly put it back on as Draco put all of the random metals back to their original spot.

He walked up to you and pinched his robe, grabbing a clean spot as he gently wiped your tears. Your smile instantly made him smile, but he was glad you couldn't see it since you were still staring at your necklace.

Mattheo (words of affirmation + praise)

You stayed up all night for almost a week straight just to study for the finals coming up

It was genuinely one of the worse weeks of your life. You skipped hanging out with friends, kept forgetting to eat, and even passed out while studying multiple times

It got to the point that even teachers reached out to you to remind you to take care of yourself first, but you didn’t listen

The exam came and you thought you did well, until you saw the C- on your exams over and over and over again

You didn’t want to be a brat, technically you passed, but you wasted a whole week just to barely pass. You felt so stupid and felt like all your efforts was wasted

All you did for a whole day was cry in your bed, skipping all of your classes. You thought no one would notice, but of course Mattheo did

“(Y/N)?!” Matt shouted through the door, “Why are you skipping class? What happened to the A+ student?”

Although he said it jokingly, that hurt you deeply. He’s right, what did happen to the straight A+ student you were? Before you could think deeper, Matt slams the door open to see you crying in your bed. He sees you try to hide under your blankets but he could hear the sobs you were trying to muffle.

“Oh shit, my bad” Matt mumbles as he gets closer to you. He plops himself onto your bed. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head and avoid eye contact. If you told him you were crying over a C, he would definitely call you a nerd. But, he could already tell due to the open texts books that scattered your floors and hidden but bright red mark.

He held up the test that you despised and gave a puzzled look at the test. "God, I don't know how you do it. This is amazing!" He says with a small smile.

"You took all advance classes this year and passed every single one! That's fucking awesome!" He says as you frown, "Well, I know YOU don't think it's awesome, but I do."

He could tell his words weren't getting to you, "Listen," he says as he grabs your face to look at him in the eyes.

"These stupid test grades?" He says holding up some papers, "They won't matter in 5 years, fuck it even 3 years! This tiny stupid letter that Snape wrote with a shit pen won't matter. You're SO smart! Think about it! There's like 1,000 kids here and I bet 50%, no 75%, wouldn't know anything on this paper!"

You turned your head smiled weakly at his comforting words, but you still felt guilty for working so hard and getting such a low score. But from the two seconds you looked away, Matt was already burning the papers with his wand, filling the room with a scent of smoke.

He smiled at you while you were in shock. "It's just a letter! Don't let the lamest letter in the alphabet ruin your weak." He says as he set the rest of your tests aflame.

Theodore (acts of services omg)

You were having a really rough few weeks, almost a month

Although Hogwarts was amazing and you made friends that are 10 times better than your family, you couldn’t help but reflect on your past

Everything you’ve regretted, every single mean comment you’ve been told, every mistake you’ve made, all of it was rushing back in your head for an unknown reason

Normally, when this happens you journal, go on a walk, or vent to someone but for some reason your brain just didn’t want to do any of those beside mellow in your awful thoughts

You skipped 80% of your classes for this week, so far no one has noticed or checked up on you which made you feel worse. Everyone except Theo

There was a light knock at your door while you stare at your ceiling. You knew that you should probably get the door, but you felt so numb throughout your whole body that you couldn’t get up, as if you were paralyzed.

“(Y/N)? I’m coming in okay?” You hear Theo’s voice and instantly recognize it. He waits about 5 seconds, to make sure you approve of this and give you time to fix anything you need. But your body was limp, as if it wasn’t in your control.

Your vision was so messed up that when Theo hovered above you, you didn’t notice him at first. Without looking at yourself, you could tell you popped a vein in your eye.

Theo was a quiet guy, he liked his actions to speak louder than his words. You heard the ruffle of a chip bag, a glass of liquid, and a bowl be set down on your bedside table. You wish you could look at the flavors of the chips, what drink he got you, and what’s in the bowl, but even moving your head felt tiring.

From your dissociated stare and limp body, he knew he needed to help you in some way. He gently slid his hands under your back and propped you up on the bed to be sitting. He opened the chip bag and scooped up some soup from the bowl.

“Ahh,” he said while opening his mouth. Automatically, you copied him and he fed you slowly, scoop by scoop.

The rest of the day was spent with Theo caring for you in some way possible to help make your situation better. He fed you dinner and medicine, picked out shows to watch, and even used magic to help you change out of your old clothes.

Although he didn’t speak much to you beside small actions and quiet reassurances, such as “it’s okay�� or “take your time”, you still so comforted and loved. He knew what you needed exactly, which was slightly scary but it worked for your benefit.

He didn’t expect you to feel better instantly, and if he had to do this for multiple days or weeks, he wouldn’t mind at all. He was patient and gentle, despite his scary demeanor. But of course, he doesn’t want people to know this in order to keep up the stoic bad-boy look he had. Only you get to know.

Lorenzo (im delusional so i he gets all of them)

You always felt anxious when it came to school due to your past history of getting bullied. But you overcame it slowly, until you saw your old bully being introduced to the whole class.

Instantly, you could feel the blood leave your brain as your legs began to shake on their own. Your bully was just here for a day in order to advertise something that their school was doing, but you didn't listen.

Luckily, you got the teacher's attention and they saw the tears in your eyes, instantly dismissing you to the bathroom.

While in the bathroom, you broke down and could feel every negative memory you've had rush back to your head. Your vision blurred and you could feel your lungs breathe at a rapid rate.

You were glad to be alone during this, so that no one would question you about it. But Lorenzo saw and instantly asked the teacher to go check up on you.

You left the bathroom after the bell rung, meaning you wouldn't have to see your bully once again. You finally felt ready to face the world once again after a pretty heavy breakdown. But, you instantly felt tears rise up once you made eye contact with Lorenzo. He was waiting patiently outside of the bathroom for however long he’s been there.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, causing the tears to instantly come back.

Although you always did your best to act tough, Lorenzo was the one thing that made you break. Everything about him was so comforting; his scent, voice, touch, all of it.

Once he sees your eyes water and the tears roll down your cheek, he instantly hugs you, gently rubbing his hand on your back to comfort. You could feel your tears get sucked into his robe, but he didn’t care at all. He didn’t move until you were ready to, he’s always been your number one comfort.

The second you move and feel your tears stop, he pats your back and stays silent for a moment to think of what to say. Despite being sarcastic and witty, he knew exactly what to say during hard times which was surprising to you.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I don't know what happened but I'm going to assume you don't like that person, and if you don't like them then I don't like them either! Fuck them!" He said, instantly showing how much support you had.

"But, if you ever want to rant or vent, I’m always here.” He says with a soft smile, “I'll do whatever you need to feel comfortable. Walk you to class, cuss them out, fuck it I'll even hide in the girls bathroom with you!”

You smile lightly at his offers but shake your head. Seeing your smile makes him happy instantly as well. He stays with you in the halls to skip class, you’re 100 times more important than any class he’s ever been in.

The next day, your bully was gone and was back in their school. Even though you were completely over the situation , he still wanted to make you happy in some way. He believes that for every sad moment you've had, you just need at least two happy moments to overtake that sad moment. So, the next day he brought you some cookies along with a small deer keychain that he got at the store.

This man will do everything in his power to make you twice as happy, no matter what it takes.

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy #draco x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #theodore nott #theodore x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo x reader #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #angst #comfort #slytherin boys #harry potter x reader

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st4rr-girrl · 11 months

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cheater pt 2 please 🥹

Cheater Pt 2

M.R x Fem! Reader

Summary; Mattheo Riddle, one of your close friends notices your sad energy. He attempts to cheer you up.

Thanks for the request, enjoy! xx

Warnings; swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of smut/implied sexual intercourse, nicknames; bunny & Mi Amor

Side note; Bunny is ur nickname that Mattheo gave you a long time ago, like when you were little. You found a bunny at the park and adopted it and he started calling you bunny. (Idk thought it was cute)

A/n: Should I make this a series? I know I never finish my other ones bc idk where the plot is going nd I lose motivation but ik what to write for this.

Now playing; never felt so alone -labrinth

Up next; see how I circle/labryrinth

Staring at your plate, filled with foods you would normally dig into, you felt an inexplainable emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Some people were already heading off to their dorms for a good nights sleep, since the school year was almost over and finals were coming up.

Although you were surrounded by people you loved, you still felt a bit lonely. You lost the one person who understood how you felt. You didn’t miss his longing gaze, that stared at your melancholy expression. He wanted nothing more than to hug you and tell Astoria to fuck off, but he understood what he did was wrong.

You’re just protecting yourself.

You glanced at your long-time friend, Mattheo, who was shooting daggers at Draco.

Just as your thoughts were about to consume you, Pansy spoke up. “Earth to Y/n?” She noticed the sad expression on your tired face, and attempted to cheer you up.

“Sorry.” You furrowed your brows and shook your head. “What were you saying?” Pansy pulled you out of your trance-like state.

“We were just debating which was better; butter-beer, or chocolate frogs.” Pansy raised a brow, awaiting your answer.

“Well chocolate frogs are good,” Pansy felt hopeful that at-least one person would agree with her about her favorite treat. “-but…” her face dropped. “Sorry Pansy, chocolate frogs get away too easily! And butter-beer is top tier.” You raised your hands in defense, while Pansy sighed and admitted defeat while Theodore teased her. A spark of happiness fluttering for a moment. You smiled contentedly, before you felt that damn stare.

You frowned and bounced your leg up and down. You felt a hand on your bouncing leg, and looked up. Mattheo was smiling reassuringly. “You ok?” He whispered, gazing at you with adoration. You two were in your own little world while the others talked. He gently grabbed both of your hands.

You smiled softly, about to answer when Astoria came in. She sat on Draco’s lap and stared right at you with a devilish grin.

Your eyes widened slightly, while tears filled your eyes. Draco could no longer face you without shame. You bit your lip and faced back to Mattheo who glared at Draco and Astoria.

“I think I need some air.” You said quickly, pulling your hands from Mattheo softly as you rushed out of the dinning room.

You headed through the halls, not noticing the tall male that followed behind you.

You debated where to go, before your mind lingered around going to the astronomy tower.

So thats where you went. You ran up the stairs and collapsed to the floor, holding yourself while sobs wracked through your body.

Someone sat beside you, and you sniffled before glancing up. It was Mattheo. A part of you was expecting Draco to be there, but it was nothing more than a silly thought. Besides, seeing Mattheo was a lot better than seeing Draco. A pleasant surprise if you will.

Mattheo pulled out a cigarette, putting it to his lips and lighting it. He handed you one.

“Mattheo, you really need to stop smoking.” You said, but still took the cigarette and let him light it.

“I’ll stop when you stop.” He smiled, making you shake your head and smile, while wiping your tears. You didn’t wanna cry in front of him. It was embarrassing, even though you’ve known him forever.

You took a puff of the cigarette as Mattheo scooted closer and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You leaned your head against him. You too were super affectionate before you started dating Draco. You’d cuddle, hug, a kiss on the cheek or head every now and then, but Draco was upset with this. Reasonably, of course, but it cause you and Mattheo to drift apart slightly. Draco was always possessive of you, so you saw less and less of your friends. Ironic, huh.

So this type of affection usually wouldn’t make you flustered, or give you butterflies; but it did. Heat crept up your neck, and you felt nauseous, as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

“Yknow…” Mattheo said, disturbing the comforting silence. You hummed, looking up and noticing he was already glancing down at you. “There’s a bright side to this.”

You raised a brow. “And that is?”

“I can tell you something I’ve always wanted to.”

“And that is?” This caught your attention.

“I really like you, Bunny.” Your eyes widened as you stared, searching for anything that would tell you that this was some type of sick joke.

Gladly, there was no trace of him playing with your feelings. Only raw, sentimental emotion.

“I-I really like you too, Mattheo.” Your mouth tripped over your words as a faint blush crept up your neck to your cheeks. He cupped your cheek with the hand that didn’t hold a cigarette. You cupped his cheek as well, but your hand did hold a cigarette.

You both leaned in slowly, meeting one another in the middle. You smiled into the kiss, and melted in his hands.

You got on his lap and grinded, the once innocent kiss turning into something less innocent.

One things led to another and….

—

You shifted in your sleep, feeling a warm pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You smiled contentedly, turning around and facing Mattheo. To your surprise, he was already awake.

“Hey, bunny.” He said, smiling at the nickname he gave you a long while back.

“Hello Mi amor.” Mattheo spoke Spanish, and you took a few classes with him, so you started calling him that.

“Are we official?” He asks.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a raised brow. “I mean we had sex, so I’d like to believe we’re official.” You laugh, as he laughs along. His laugh vibrates his chest, and it give you butterflies.

“We should probably get ready for class.” You considered, softly getting up from the bed. “We don’t want anyone catching us in the same dorm room do we?” You added, before he could protest.

“Finee.” He groaned, getting out of bed gingerly.

He kissed your cheek, before you left to your dorm with all your school clothes in your hands.

—

Time rolled by quickly, and it was now dinner.

You were late, per usual, but this time your melancholy expression was replaced with one of happiness.

Astoria was sitting on Draco’s lap, and staring at you with confusion. Why weren’t you upset?

You strolled happily to the slytherin table, and took your seat right on Mattheo’s lap. You stared at Astoria with pride, and scowled at Draco.

Kissing Mattheo on the cheek, though it was not for revenge. You just loved him.

And this time, you were not letting anything get in the way of that.

#mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #draco angst #draco malfoy angst #Mattheo riddle angst #fluff?#angst #hurt/comfort #smut #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you

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deskofninak · 2 months

Text

Unexpected Saviour // Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Summary: Reader makes the reckless decision to rescue Mattheo from the Malfoy Manor during the War.

Notes: Slight angst and fluff, sort of hurt/comfort, Mattheo is a damsel in distress and reader in the knight in invisibility cloak.

Word count: 878 words

Masterlist

Happy reading! :)

You shivered in the dark, your breath coming fast and shallow. This was a terrible idea by all accounts and yet, you had to find him. You might not be best friends with Mattheo Riddle but after all these months of a tentative friendship, you knew he wanted out. So you would get him out. Although apparating into Malfoy Manor to do it was by far one of the worst ideas you’d ever had.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were in the Manor, somewhere in the grounds, but this was what you had stolen Harry’s invisibility cloak for. Harry would be very angry, and angrier when he realised where you’d gone, they all would be, but you’d apologise and they’d eventually forgive you. But you were not going to sit by and watch Riddle get involved in a war he did not want.

Gripping the cloak tighter around yourself, you headed indoors. This was mad, beyond mad, and you felt yourself trembling at the thought of encountering one of the Malfoys or Fenrir or, Merlin, even You Know Who himself. You steeled yourself with the thought of Mattheo’s tear-stained face, the one time he’d let you through his walls, and you let it fuel you enough to go up the stairs and to the bedrooms.

The Manor was quiet. It was night and they were probably asleep or maybe they were scheming somewhere. Nevertheless, the quiet made it easier to creep around and listen for anyone heading your way. Cringing as you checked each bedroom, you stopped short when you came to the door at the end. You hoped this one was his because you had not entirely prepared for the eventuality that you might not find him.

You didn’t need to worry though, for as you eased the door open and poked your head in, there he was: curled up in bed with his mop of curls sticking out of the blanket, one hand outstretched towards the astrology book you’d given him that now perched on the nightstand. You slipped inside, closing the door behind you, and surveyed the room first before pulling the cloak off yourself.

Walking over to the bed, you knelt and tugged the blanket just the slightest to reveal his face to you. His scar stood out prominently in the moonlight, stark against the soft of his face, delicate eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He looked paler though, and leaner, too, and your worry for him quadrupled. You reached forward, pushing back the curl that had dropped over his forehead and whispered his name.

It took a minute for his eyes to flutter open, latching onto your figure. He muttered your name, brow furrowing in confusion, sleep heavy in his eyes. That lasted only a moment though before he registered where you were and that you weren’t a dream. He bolted upright, panic evident in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.

The anger came quickly as he leapt out of bed, grabbing you before you could respond and pulling you away from the door further into the darkness of the room. “What-” His fury, warring with worry, kept the right words out of his grasp.

“I came to get you,” you whispered.

“Get me? Are you insane? Do you realise where you are?”

“Mattheo, let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

He seemed to snap back into himself and let go. “He will kill you,” he said, desperation lacing his voice.

“He will kill you,” you responded. “Come with me. I’ve got an invisibility cloak, we’ll disapparate, the Order will find you a safehouse.”

“This is insanity.”

“No, it isn’t! I am not leaving you here with them. With him.” Your hand reached up, ghosting over the scar on his cheek and he shuddered.

He whispered your name like a prayer. “He will be angry. He will hurt someone.”

“He’s going to hurt people irrespective of where you are.”

“Why are you doing this?” He looked at you, eyes brimming with tears that silently pleaded with you to leave.

There was no point holding your cards to your chest anymore. “Because I love you.” Damn the consequences, you surged forward and tugged his face to yours, lips meeting in the middle. It was a quick kiss but it seemed to freeze time. Mattheo had gone completely still and a tear escaped, running down his cheek.

“I love you,” you repeated, “and I don’t care what you say, I am not leaving here without you.”

He huffed and before you could continue with your pleas, he drew you to him, mashing your lips together. His were soft against yours and it eased something in you to know that he was safe in your arms. Your hands cradled his face as his wound around your torso, leaving not an inch of space between the two of you.

When you drew apart, there were tears on his face and you gently wiped them away. “I don’t think I’m that bad at kissing.”

Mattheo laughed under his breath, drawing you back to him again and burying his face in your shoulder. “I love you, too.”

You blinked back tears and ran your fingers through his curls. “I’m getting you out of here.”

xxx

Hope you enjoyed this! If you see a typo, let me know. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina

#harry potter #mattheo riddle #x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter x reader #mattheo riddle hurt/comfort #x reader hurt/comfort #mattheo riddle x reader hurt/comfort #harry potter fanfic

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dreamcubed · 7 months

Text

lover | mattheo riddle x reader

song; lover [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x fem!baronet's daughter!reader genre; marriage of convenience, s2l, fluff, angst, hurt comfort word count; 9,1k timeline; bridgerton au (again lol) warnings; abusive parents (verbal, neglect, psychological), implied anxiety, panic attacks, near death experience (illness) summary; born into a loveless family, you had been denied the opportunity to marry for many years. that was, until, a duke noticed your situation and gave your parents an offer that they simply couldn't refuse - but would it be a love match?

suggested by @fictionisjustbetter ! (sorry this took so long)

icl mattheo is just so perfect for period aus

masterlist

"all's well that ends well to end up with you."

———————————————

Sir Vincent Malton was a baronet and nothing more. Of course, while being a low title, it was still a part of the aristocracy, which was much better than the alternative. He took his role very seriously, as his father before him had, and his father before him.

So, when the first Lady Malton of his passed during childbirth having sired not an heir, but a daughter, he had arranged for a new wife to marry ready for his first day of it being considered acceptable to be out of mourning. The second Lady Malton of his was more successful in the heir department: during her first pregnancy, she sired twins, both a boy and a girl. And then after two more girls (of separate pregnancies), she had another boy. Sir Vincent Malton then finally felt safe in the security of his baronetcy lineage.

But he never spoke to any of his six children. He left them up to the second Lady Malton, including his firstborn, who was not her blood. Where other ladies would have accepted their stepchildren as their own, Lady Daria Malton did not. As far she was concerned, Y/N was not her child and thus not her problem. But Sir Vincent was a traditional man who saw the children as the mother's business, so she kept up appearances to continue her life of comfort.

Sir Vincent didn't even bother with the marriage mart, instructing his wife to simply inform him when a suitor (with a title) proposed to any one of his daughters. And Lady Malton had - with her own eldest daughter, Samantha, when a baron asked for her hand. He was twice her age, but Lady Malton (like her husband) cared about title more than anything. Samantha was quickly married off to her new life as a baroness.

One thing Sir Vincent didn't know was that Lady Malton had never officially debuted Y/N. She brought her along to more casual soirées that other non-debutantes attended to keep up appearances, but as far as the one-and-twenty-year-old's actual debut - well, it was significantly overdue. The thing was, Y/N had received callers after such events before, but callers were received by the baronetess and not the baronet, and she quickly sent them away. Thus, the actual stage of proposal was never reached, so Lady Malton was by all technicalities following her husband's instruction.

Y/N knew that it was unfair, that her stepmother's abuse was unjust. She didn't see why she couldn't just allow someone to propose and get her out of the home: Lady Malton clearly didn't like her, so why not be rid of her?

But, she supposed, someone like Lady Malton must quite enjoy having a scapegoat around to target their frustrations at.

***

"Last year was a tremendous success by all means," Lady Malton spoke as her lady's maid attended to her corset, "To have Samantha married off in her first year as a debutante was a splendid result."

Y/N subtly rolled her eyes: Samantha was eighteen and her husband almost forty, it really shouldn't have been a permitted pairing. But, her husband was a baron, and title was all Lord & Lady Malton cared for. They couldn't choose to be fussy as the lowest titleholders of the aristocracy.

"Thus, Y/N, I do not wish you to cause any interference," she explained further, glaring at you through her reflection in the mirror, "I am bringing you along to Lady Bridgerton's birthday soirée out of necessity, as she always includes young ladies of whom have not made their debut."

You knew that: you had attended Lady Bridgerton's birthday event the year prior for the same reason.

"Rumour has it the Duke of Covenshire has returned from his travels to the Americas and will be attending tonight," she proceeded, "And it would simply be marvellous if Grace could secure him as a match in her first year as a debutante."

You glanced over at Grace, sat at the dresser as her lady's maid applied her makeup. She was putting on a remarkably brave face, but you could tell that she was nervous: she was too young to debut. After Samantha's success, Lady Malton had felt confident enough to debut Grace at only seven-and-ten. It wasn't entirely uncommon, but typically Mamas waited until their daughters were at least one year older.

Meanwhile you were one-and-twenty and still yet to have your debut. At this rate you would be a spinster before you had even entered the marriage mart.

You looked to your other side at Tia, your youngest sister at fourteen, who was more than thrilled to be allowed to attend that night. You never saw your brothers, really: Vincent (creatively named after your father) was away at Cambridge, and Henry, the youngest of the lot, was away at Eton.

"Right, is the carriage ready?" Lady Malton snapped at one of the servants, who quickly nodded.

And then with a curt bob of her head, the baronetess proceeded over to the door - a silent instruction for her daughters to follow - and they all headed to the front of Malton House, the London lodgings of the family.

***

"Lady Bridgerton! How good to see you," Lady Malton beamed at the dowager viscountess, "Such a lovely soirée."

"Why thank you, Lady Malton," the kind woman replied, "Pleased to see all your daughters could make it."

"Oh, is Samantha here already?"

"I believe Lady Halterton is over there," Lady Bridgerton vaguely pointed in a direction, "But how are all the Miss Maltons?"

"Grace is excited to make a match this year," the poor girl was pushed forward, "With any luck, she shall follow in her sister's footsteps."

"And what of the oldest Miss Malton?"

You looked up and gave Lady Bridgerton a hesitant smile.

"You know how Y/N is - still doesn't want to debut," Lady Malton sighed, "At this rate she shall be a spinster before even trying for marriage. But, we love her and support her decisions."

You scoffed internally, wanting nothing more than to blaspheme at your stepmother in that moment.

The conversation with Lady Bridgerton wrapped up and the focus then became the considering of various potential suitors. It was the first social event that you had the privilege of attending since the year prior, so you fully planned to savour the moments you were free from the house.

And then the room hushed into whispers as the door opened, it being remarkably noticeable how all the ambitious eyes of the Mamas zoned in on one particular man gracing the room with his presence.

"That's him- that's the duke!" Lady Malton whispered, mainly to Grace, but anyone close by could have heard her.

"Gosh, he's handsome," Tia mumbled to your left, "Shame I'm too young."

You kept your eyes glued on to the pale man with curly brown hair gelled somewhat neatly. His eyes were narrowed like that of a cat's, and his very presence commanded authority - yet he was polite to every hopeful Mama who approached him. Dismissive, but polite.

"Ah, Lady Bridgerton," he spoke, near enough to you for you to hear his gruff monotone voice as he bent over to kiss the dowager viscountess's hand, "Thank you for the invitation, and happy birthday."

"It is an honour you attended, your grace."

The man nodded, chatting to her for a few moments longer as the noise and bustle returned to the room, so you couldn't hear the rest of it.

"Now is our chance," your stepmother said as the duke's conversation wrapped up. She quickly sped towards him. "Your grace!"

The duke paused, and half-turned so he was fully facing your brood.

"Lady Malton, Baronetess of Catury," she curtsied, "And this is my daughter, Grace," she gestured towards the girl.

When his eyes flicked to Tia, she hurried to introduce her, but when his eyes flicked to you, she remained silent.

"And you are?" he inquired.

Your eyes widened: you were rarely spoken to, "Y/N- Miss Y/N Malton," you corrected.

"Don't pay her any mind, your grace," your stepmother quickly said, pinching you in the side as subtly as she could which made you flinch - as it always did. You didn't notice the way the duke's beady eyes followed the interaction. "She isn't a debutante."

"She looks old enough to be." He was clearly referencing the fact you obviously had a few years on Grace.

"It is her own choice."

You couldn't help the scowl that itched at your eyebrows, and the duke couldn't help but notice it.

"Would you care for a dance with Grace?"

The duke's eyes flicked over your sister again, "I have no intentions of dancing this evening- if you excuse me."

And with that, he departed, just to be ambushed by yet another Mama.

Your stepmother turned and glared at you, "You ruined Grace's chances."

"I didn't do anything," you said simply.

"You spoke. You know you're not supposed to."

"He asked me a question."

"I respond to the questions about you."

"Mama," Grace interrupted, shooting you a sympathetic look, "Is that the Earl of Kilmartin over there?"

Lady Malton's head snapped in that direction, "So it is! He has returned from India."

You couldn't be more grateful to Grace for the distraction.

***

"Saunders," the duke, Mattheo, called from his work study in Riddle Manor, his London residence. It was merely a couple hours after he had returned from Lady Bridgerton's soirée.

The secretary hurried into the office, "Yes, your grace?"

"What do you know of the Malton family?"

Saunders paused, "Sir Vincent Malton?"

Mattheo nodded.

"He is married to Dame Daria Malton and has six children. He attended Eton and Cambridge, studying history."

"And of his children?"

"Two sons and four daughters, I believe."

"And what of Miss Y/N Malton?"

The secretary immediately recognised the name, "She is the oldest, your grace. She is one-and-twenty and well-known for not having debuted yet."

Mattheo frowned, leaning back in his chair, "Is there a way in which she is different from her siblings?"

"I-" the secretary thought for a moment, "I believe she has a different mother than her younger siblings, if that's what you mean."

"Lady Malton is not her mother?"

"Well, yes and no. The current Lady Malton is not her mother, but the Lady Malton before her was. She passed in childbirth, I believe."

Mattheo hummed, "I see."

"Is that all, your grace?"

"Prepare the carriage to journey to Malton House tomorrow morning, Saunders, and locate my mother's engagement ring."

Saunders' eyes widened, but he quickly nodded, "Of course, your grace."

Nothing made Mattheo angrier than cruel parents.

***

Lady Malton and Grace were up bright and early the next day, as all debutantes and their Mamas were after a social event. They were to dress in some of their nicer but not so fancy attire ready to sit in the upstairs drawing room in await for any callers they may receive in the downstairs drawing room. You, however, stayed tucked nicely into bed until a more reasonable hour, since your stepmother certainly wouldn't want to catch sight of you until lunchtime - if then.

Still, you rose from your slumber at around eleven o'clock and called for your lady's maid, getting dressed in a simple baby blue piece that you had purchased a few years ago. You rarely got new dresses under Lady Malton's reign.

"I'll take my breakfast in here, please, Melinda," you smiled.

***

The Duke of Covenshire had been up at an exceptionally early hour, having taken a ride on his favourite stallion at sunrise, to then return to his city house and retreat to his office for a few hours accompanied by some breakfast.

He was still there at eleven o'clock.

"Your grace," Saunders began after having knocked on the door, "The carriage is ready for you."

"And the ring?" the duke inquired.

"Here," the secretary presented it, "It was still safely in the dowager duchess's bed chamber."

Mattheo had seen no point in keeping it anywhere else since that room had remained unoccupied for quite some time now.

"Excellent," he murmured, "Now, let us make haste."

***

It wasn't a long journey to Malton House, so really it was no time at all by the time that the Covenshire carriage pulled up to the smaller but still grand home. There were two or three other carriages parked outside, likely belonging to other potential suitors.

Mattheo wasn't worried: he was a duke, after all, and the Maltons were merely baronets. They would jump at the opportunity to marry a daughter off to be a duchess.

After knocking on the door, he was greeted by a short balding man with a seemingly permanently curved eyebrow.

"Here for Miss Malton?" he asked.

"Yes," Mattheo replied, although he had a feeling they weren't referring to the same one.

"Name?"

"Mattheo Riddle, Duke of Covenshire."

The butler's eyes widened, "Right this way, your grace."

Mattheo was led through the hallway into the downstairs drawing room, where Lady Malton and Grace were perched on an orange settee. On the other side of Grace sat an older gentleman, meanwhile on the settee sat across from them were two others. One of them was roughly the same age as the first, whereas the other was much younger - closer to Grace's age.

"Your grace," Lady Malton instantly said, shooting up to curtsy.

"Lady Malton," Mattheo nodded, "May I speak with Sir Vincent?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the baronetess said with widened eyes, "I'll go fetch him at once."

Typically she would have sent a servant to complete such a task, but clearly the shock had consumed her to the point she sprung into action. Once she had departed the room, Mattheo turned his eyes to Grace and the other three gentlemen who were all staring at him curiously.

"Who are you gentlemen?" he asked.

"Edward Cann, Viscount of Sancourt," one of the older gentlemen introduced.

"Gareth Warner," the other older one spoke.

Mattheo couldn't help but question the audacity of an older man to pursue the hand of such a young woman when he didn't even possess a title. Still, his eyes turned to the youngest man.

"Sir Charles Robinson, Baronet of Rackney."

"And how old are you?" his eyes were still on Charles.

"Twenty, your grace."

Mattheo hummed, that was more appropriate for Grace. Unusual for a man to seek a wife at such an age, but not unheard of.

"Lord Cann and Mr Warner," he began, and they perked up at his address, "May I ask what the devil men of your age are doing pursuing such a young woman?"

They were clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty, as were the servants littered around the room.

"I certainly will have to rethink my family's business with your estates in light of such news."

And with apologies to Grace and Mattheo, the two older gentlemen quickly vanished from the room, moments before the Lord & Lady of the house made an appearance.

"Your grace," Sir Vincent spoke, holding out his hand, which Mattheo shook, "To what do I owe the honour?"

"May we proceed to a more private location?"

"Of course, right this way."

"Your presence won't be required any longer, Sir Charles," Lady Malton said, clearly confused at the absence of the two other gentlemen.

Mattheo interrupted, "Oh, I'm sure it will, Lady Malton. I wouldn't dismiss the young gentleman."

Before she could ask what he meant, he was being led out the drawing room and to the baronet's office.

"I believe you know what I am here for," Mattheo stated simply, after declining the offer of brandy.

"I shouldn't want to get my hopes up, your grace."

"I would like your daughter's hand in marriage."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Of course, I shall dower her fairly-"

"Unnecessary. I have no use for a dowry, no matter the size."

"Oh- okay," the baronet paused, "Which daughter is this?"

Mattheo almost frowned: was Sir Vincent not aware of his daughter's status in society? Perhaps he left such matters up to his wife.

"Miss Y/N Malton."

"You're the first suitor that we have received for her."

The duke's breath hitched.

"This is such a relief - of course, we will arrange the wedding right away."

"I would like to marry her quickly," Mattheo said, "We will need to procure a special license."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Whatever you wish, your grace. It is an honour to be your father-in-law."

Mattheo turned to leave after saying his thanks, but paused and faced the baronet again, "You should definitely consider Sir Charles Robinson to marry Miss Grace Malton, he is a fine young man."

The baronet was clearly confused at such a statement, but absently nodded nonetheless.

***

You had been shocked when your father called you down to the drawing room: you couldn't remember the last time that he had requested your presence. Not that he requested your sisters' presences either, you were pretty sure your brother Vincent was the only of his children he spoke to.

"Excellent news for our family," he began, with Lady Malton looking thrilled at what she expected him to say, "Excellent news indeed."

You almost rolled your eyes, expecting that you had simply been called down to receive the announcement of Grace's engagement.

"The Duke of Covenshire has proposed."

Lady Malton stood up, "This is fabulous news! Well done, Grace."

"No," Sir Vincent silenced his wife, "Well done, Y/N."

Your head snapped up.

What?

"Whatever do you mean, Father?"

"His grace has asked for your hand in marriage," you had never seen your father so happy, "And naturally I accepted."

Lady Malton stood in absolute horror.

"I was beginning to become worried about your lack of proposals," he continued, unaware of his wife's reaction, "But clearly God was holding out in await for this massive surprise."

"But- what about Grace?" Lady Malton finally spluttered out.

"I am in the process of discussing that matter with Sir Charles Robinson, the duke recommended him himself."

You noticed the way Grace smiled to herself at that and looked abashedly to the ground. Clearly she was happy with such an arrangement - had the duke known that and so used his influence to help her?

"His grace wishes to be married quickly."

And thus, at the end of the week, you were married.

***

You had no idea what a honeymoon night was supposed to entail. Typically, a Mama would give a bride-to-be 'the talk' the night before her wedding, but Lady Malton would never do such a motherly thing for you. Thus, you were left completely clueless.

Plus, apart from the exchange of your vows, you had hardly spoken to the duke before, so you really didn't know where the evening was going to take you as you stepped out of the carriage outside Riddle Manor. You were both to spend the night in his London home before beginning the three day journey to his countryside residence the next day. It was a typical agenda for newly weds.

You were introduced to the various staff, including your new lady's maids - you now had two of them, as opposed to one - before you were both led through to the dining room. Your eyes fell on the long dining table, with the two distanced ends laid and nothing more.

You grimaced.

"Is salmon not to your tastes?" your husband asked you.

"Tis a very formal set up," you explained simply, but said nothing more as you assumed one of the seats.

"I mostly take dinner in my work study, so this will be a rare occurrence."

You ate the entire meal in silence, and then it was time to be shown your bed chambers.

"This is the duchess' chamber," he gestured to the door, "You may redecorate it however you so wish."

You hummed.

"My chamber is next door - we have an adjoining door, of course."

You said nothing.

"Are you going to enter?"

"But what of our consummation?" you asked.

Mattheo paused - he hadn't expected you to be so blunt.

"Lady Malton did not give me a talk like she was supposed to," you explained, somewhat shyly, "I do not know what is meant to happen, but I know that something must."

"Right," he said slowly, "We will consummate."

***

You lay awake in bed next to the duke the next morning, unable to get the memories of the night prior out of your head. Never would you have guessed that that was how babies were made, something that felt so heavenly, so good. But, you were also confused, many women muttered about it in fear, as if their consummation was unenjoyable.

Perhaps it differed with each man. Regardless, with Mattheo, it was completely and entirely soul-consuming, and you wished to experience it a countless number of times over.

A knock sounded on the door, "Your graces, breakfast is ready."

Mattheo was still sound asleep, "We'll take it in here," you replied.

You weren't used to having power in a household.

Also, how did the servant know you weren't in the duchess' bed chamber?

Mattheo woke up once the servants had wheeled in the breakfast selection, and once you were both loosely dressed, you began eating. It was then that he began speaking.

"Now is as good a time as any to set out the details of this marriage," he said, making you look up from your eggs, "I married you because I can't stand when parents mistreat their children."

Your heart warmed at that: he had noticed how Lady Malton treated you?

"I do not intend for love, but obviously at some point there will need to be an heir," he said, "You may have conceived last night, but it is unlikely. In the probable case that you haven't, we can wait a couple years to produce one should you so wish."

You thought over what he was saying - perhaps part of you had hoped that he had fallen in love with you at first sight, but you knew that was childish. This was a marriage of convenience.

"I only have one condition when it comes to children," you said slowly.

"Which is?"

"That you are an involved father," you said, "Like the Bridgertons are known for being."

Memories flashed through Mattheo's mind of his childhood: his father's coldness and distance all throughout the years until he returned from Cambridge a grown man. Only then did the late duke want anything to do with his son.

"I shall be involved," he said.

***

You couldn't look Mattheo in the eyes, you soon realised. He scared you, not in the way that Lady Malton had, but in a way you didn't quite understand. He made you nervous, made you unable to speak more than a few words at a time. Not that you did speak much: the entire journey to Covenshire Hall had been very much one of silence. The only sound to accompany you was the wheels and hooves against the cobbled roads.

The nights were spent in inns, in separate bed chambers.

Covenshire Hall was enormous: far bigger than the Catury estate that you had spent half your childhood on. It made sense, obviously, you were no longer a mere baronet's daughter, but a duchess.

"Your graces," the butler greeted you as you stepped out the carriage, "Welcome."

"Dantle," Mattheo replied, "Gather all the servants in the entrance hall."

"Right away, your grace."

The man disappeared inside, and you soon had entered through the same doors that he had, to be greeted by the largest entry room that you had ever seen. Symmetrical stairs curved around the walls either side of you, carpeted in plush blue velvet. The walls were decorated in a branch-design, but the once deep maroon colour had faded over time: it was evident to you that there hadn't been a lady of the house in quite a few years.

And then, quite quickly, the room filled with lines of house staff - more than you had ever seen for one household before. You were introduced to them all, including the primary housekeeper, Ms Godley. She was an older woman, with mostly grey hair that still held evidence of her brunette days, and a lightly wrinkled face that seemed more to do with the permanent pursing of her lips rather than age. Her eyebrows were ghastly thin, much like the rest of her, which could only be described as bony. She wore a pleated black dress down to her ankles, suggesting that she was in mourning.

You smiled politely at her, but she did not return it.

"I will leave you in her capable hands," your husband said to you, "She will provide a tour of the grounds."

"Where are you going?" you couldn't help but ask.

"My office."

You watched as he left, before turning back to Ms Godley.

"Where shall we begin?" you asked, attempting to be friendly.

***

You didn't like Ms Godley - not one bit. She reminded you of your stepmother, except this time you didn't even have younger siblings to provide a distraction. It was quite evident that she wasn't particularly fond of you either, although you had no idea what you could have done.

"This is the nursery," the woman said tightly, "It has been empty for some years now."

Gazing around the room of faded yellows and purples, you were cast back to when you were in your nursery, though you always got the short end of the stick when it came to beds. Nonetheless, it had been a relatively pleasant time for you, back when your sisters were too young to notice that Lady Malton treated you differently, so you would all play together as children do.

You didn't want any of your children to feel left out.

"Your grace," Ms Godley said curtly, "We don't have all day."

You sighed, exiting the room.

***

Loneliness was a familiar emotion to you, so a week of solitude in Covenshire Hall wasn't all that much of a change from your old life, other than the fact you now had servants waiting on your hand and foot. Although, you were growing quite bored: at least with the Maltons, you were always distracted by gauging your stepmother's mood.

You decided that you needed a distraction, and since the prestigious house was in desperate need of a fresh lick of paint, you landed on redecorating.

"You called for me, your grace?" Ms Godley stood before you in the duchess' office that you had taken to using regularly.

"Yes," you stood up, walking around your desk, "I have a matter to discuss with you."

It took everything in you to act courageous in front of a woman so similar to Lady Malton.

"I wish to redecorate the house," you said simply.

By some miracle, Ms Godley's lips pursed even more.

"Starting with the entrance hall - since that is the first room guests see, then-"

"No."

You paused - was she allowed to say that to you? "No?"

"No. This estate is not a part of your lineage, you have no right to tamper with it."

The amount of bravery that it had taken for you to have this conversation with her, just for her to pull a line that sounded so eerily similar to Lady Malton's.

"I am the lady of the house," you said, but it was obvious you weren't speaking as surely of yourself as moments prior.

"The dowager duchess was never permitted to redecorate either," she said, "And I imagine that the late duke would especially not want somebody as measly as a baronet's daughter interfering with his heritage."

You stood in shock for a few moments, eventually managing to splutter out, "You are excused."

Once she was gone, you finally gave in to the panic consuming you, feeling your breath beginning to dramatically labour and push against your corset. You felt trapped, suffocated, like you had your entire childhood, and you didn't like it. You had to escape.

So, you did.

You weren't running away by any means: you just needed fresh air, and the woods on the Covenshire grounds seemed perfect to hide away for a while. Just a couple days ago, you had taken a walk through them. Of course, that was on one of the paths that navigated between the trees, this time you simply started running straight ahead once you breached the tree line.

But you could only go so far when you had to hitch up your thick heavy skirts to make progress, so it wasn't long before you collapsed against a tree, your lungs pounding against your rib cage which were in turn pounding against your corset.

It was then that floods poured out of your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving a sticky, puffy trail behind.

You should have known better.

Just because you were a duchess didn't mean you suddenly had control over your own life.

You failed to notice the looming grey clouds gathering above, up until the sky thundered, and the familiar trickle of heavy rain commenced.

***

Mattheo was sat in his office, going over estate finances, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Your grace?"

He hated being interrupted during work, but still said a grumbled, "Come in."

"I am so sorry to disturb you, your grace," Dantle said, bowing his head, "But the duchess appears to be missing."

Mattheo's head shot up, "Missing, you say?"

"Ms Godley was the last one to speak to her, approximately two hours ago."

"Where has she gone?" the duke was now standing up.

Dantle appeared uncomfortable, "I do not know, your grace. Apparently she ran down into the woods."

"Ran?" Mattheo felt his blood boil, "Have you gone out to look for her?"

"No, your grace, the storm-"

"The storm?" he saw red, "The bloody storm?" He then let out a sound somewhat adjacent to a growl before pushing past Dantle out his office.

He was going to find his wife.

***

You probably had pneumonia or something at this rate, you thought to yourself. Your body was completely freezing and soaked, and your lack of cloak was becoming apparent as a massive problem in terms of your well-being. You should have gone back inside the second the rain started, but that was when you were still in the depths of your upset. It wasn't until you were too cold to move did you calm down a bit more.

To be honest, you were about ready to accept your fate.

"Y/N!" a faint cry came from nearby, and as much as you wanted to call out and alert them of your location, your voice was weak.

By some miracle, the man - your husband - managed to locate you.

"Y/N, oh, God," he blasphemed, "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

You couldn't even reply.

Mattheo scooped you up into his arms and began making haste back towards the mansion that you shared.

"Stay with me," he murmured at irregular intervals, right up until you felt the warmth of a fireplace hit you on the cheeks. You were in your bed chamber, you realised, upon noticing the faded floral pink wall decor.

Your skin was so numb you hardly felt your husband begin to peel off all items of your clothing, including your undergarments. Typically, you would have felt embarrassed, but you were completely spent.

As he picked you up again and carried you through to the bathroom, where a bath had been prepared, you couldn't help but curl into him.

"I ordered it be run before I went to find you," he said softly - the softest you had ever heard him speak.

The warmth of the water felt heavenly.

"What happened, darling?"

You shivered, this time not because of the cold, but because of the nickname.

"Godley," you forced out between your blue lips.

"Ms Godley? What did she do?" he asked as he began to wet your hair.

"I wan- wanted to redecorate the house," your teeth were chattering, "She said I couldn't change anything."

Mattheo said nothing.

"It's- it's the way she said it," you clarified, not wanting him to think you were a brat who had simply been told 'no', "She was so mean."

"How did she say it?" you didn't miss the edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"She said it would upset the- the late duke - and that- that he especially wouldn't want a measly baronet's daughter to-" you choked on re-emerging sobs, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, my love," you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, "I will handle this."

***

After you had warmed up in the bath and been wrapped up in thick clothing, Mattheo gently escorted you to one of the larger drawing rooms, where, to your horror, every single staff member of the house was gathered. Including Ms Godley.

"It has come to my attention that the duchess is not receiving the respect she deserves in this household," your husband sent an icy glare in the housekeeper's direction, "As the lady of the house, it is her right to decorate our rooms however she so pleases."

Ms Godley's lips pursed.

"The redecoration that her grace desires will commence immediately," Mattheo gave a forced smile, "Follow her every instruction. Any questions?"

"What of the late duke?" Ms Godley asked.

"What of a man of whom is dead?"

"Surely you should respect his wishes."

"How I choose to treat my father's wishes is none of your concern, Ms Godley. You are overstepping."

The old woman opened her mouth to say something, but decidedly shut it before saying, "My apologies, your grace."

"Apologise to my wife as well."

"My apologies," Ms Godley gave a stiff curtsy.

You had been glancing nervously between your husband and the housekeeper throughout the entire exchange, feeling overwhelmingly put on the spot. It was the second after Ms Godley apologised to you that your chest tightened and you erupted in a coughing fit.

"Darling?" Mattheo asked worriedly as you fell forward.

"Can't- breathe-" you choked out.

You felt a hand press to your forehead.

"She's overheating," the duke said loudly, "Help me get her to bed. And call the doctor."

Murmurs of, "Right away, your grace," came in reply.

"You're going to be okay," Mattheo said softly to you as he picked you up for the millionth time that day, "You must be."

***

The doctors concluded that you were pneumonic, which had been what everyone suspected but were too scared to say in front of you. But, you weren't an idiot, and understood what your symptoms meant.

There was a good chance that you would die.

It was dark outside: it often was when you came to from your fever dream episodes, for a few minutes of painful consciousness. You lurched up in bed, quickly producing horrific gurgling coughs and splutters, unable to stop yourself from groaning in pain in between. Tears pricked at your eyes as you placed a hand on your chest, your blurred vision just about making out the duke running in from the door between your bed chambers.

Mattheo grabbed the cloth from your bedside table and dipped it into the pot of water placed for this occasion, hurrying to press it to your burning forehead. You let out a brief sigh of relief, before you began coughing again.

He rubbed your back, "You can get through this."

You weren't sure if you could, in fact, you felt deathly, as it were. But, your husband's words gave you a sense of strength and hope, and it was all you could do but nod after the coughing subsided.

"If- if I make it," you murmured, falling back on to the pillows. Your voice was low and cracked. "Please- may we go to London?"

"Whatever for?"

"I..." you trailed off, "I would like to make friends."

And before Mattheo could question you further, you drifted back into unconsciousness and shallow breathing.

***

It was three days later, on a chilly but sunny morning, when you awoke naturally instead of being forced awake by coughs. Your breathing felt stronger, and you weren't overheating, which was the best feeling you had felt in forever.

You heard voices outside your door.

"Is she doing any better, your grace?" who you assumed to be the doctor asked.

"We were about to check," your husband's familiar voice replied.

The door opened, and you blinked a few times to clear your vision as the two men approached you.

"Mattheo," you said softly, your words still sore to speak.

"You're awake," he said simply, pressing his hand to your forehead. The physical contact comforted you.

"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Better."

He raised his eyebrows, "In what way?"

"Every way."

He performed a more thorough examination, and concluded that while you likely still had a couple more days of illness, you had pushed through the worst of it and were well on your way to recovery. You were relieved to hear that, but even more relieved to finally be able to take a bath and and cleanse yourself.

"You wanted to return to London," Mattheo said simply at dinner that night, as he was taking it in your room with you.

"I said that?" you asked. You knew that it was what you wished to do, you just couldn't recall mentioning it to your husband.

He hummed, "While you were feverish."

He had been taking care of you?

"Well, yes- I wish to finally have a social circle."

"You mentioned that also."

You said nothing.

"Once you are fully returned to health, we shall make the journey," he said simply.

You couldn't help but beam, "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you- thank you so much."

He shook his head, as if to say 'don't thank me'.

"I'm so glad you're my husband."

Mattheo chuckled, "I'll take care of you no matter what, darling."

***

Two weeks later, and the doctor had determined that you were back to being healthy and thus your convalescence was able to come to an end. It was then arranged for you and Mattheo to return to London for the remainder of the season but three days later, once you would have passed an appropriate honeymoon duration. While you were terribly excited to be able to properly socialise, you were also nervous. For one, your stepmother would be there, and for two, you weren't that experienced with the correct customs for socialising. The only comforting factor was that your husband would be there with you: a man who you held a lot of adoration for, and felt an immense amount of comfort from.

After the pneumonia episode, he hadn't distanced himself quite so much. Granted, you still hadn't engaged in your wedding night type of intimacy again yet, but you ate meals together, and frequently found yourself wandering over to his bed chamber in the night. The first time you had done it, it had been most nerve-wracking.

It had been a few days since you had snapped out of the fever dream episode, and were feeling much more energetic. Unfortunately, you had also been dealing with bouts of insomnia, which you suspected had something to do with your fear of falling asleep and re-entering the fever dream. Like usual, you found yourself up at the early hours of the morning, only the exhaustion was catching up to you and you could feel your chest tighten as hysteric panic began to set in.

Before you completely freaked out, you forced yourself up and over to the adjoining door, aiming to seek comfort from Mattheo even if the prospect of doing so petrified you. He stirred the second that you entered the room, at least it appeared like he did from what you could make out in the shadows. "Y/N?" he murmured.

You let out a sob.

"Come here," he said without hesitation and you gladly obliged, finding that you could finally drift into a slumber once in his arms.

And, thus, you went to him whenever you couldn't sleep.

But, now, you were in the carriage back to London, with your hands folded neatly in your lap and your husband sat across from you. You weren't sure why, but there was an awkward silence present.

***

Mattheo was conflicted.

He didn't know why he cared so deeply for you, why he was so willing to aid you whenever you were in need.

A strangled, screaming part of himself deep inside knew exactly why he felt how he did, but the part of him that he listened to feigned ignorance and told him it was simply expected of him to take care of his wife.

But the thing that confused him the most was the fact he felt the urge to tell you about his childhood, about his father, and about the lack of family and love he had endured. Why would he want to tell you such personal information that didn't even matter any longer, since the cause of it was dead?

Why did you make him feel this way?

"Mattheo?" he looked up at you sat opposite him. Your voice sounded small and timid.

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me?"

He could have sworn he actually felt the searing pain of his heart breaking at that moment. He wasn't sure he was capable of being mad at you. "Of course not, why ever would you think that?"

You gave a gentle shrug, "You're quieter than normal."

"I'm often quiet." It was true: he was often regarded as a grumpy and brooding individual.

"Yes," you said tightly, "But not like this."

It stunned him how easily you could read him, but, then again, maybe he had never been close enough to anyone for them to know him. Maybe his emotions were obvious to anyone who cared enough to try and figure them out.

"Do you not wish to return to London?"

Mattheo paused for a moment. He hadn't put any thought into whether or not he wanted to go back to the capital, but initially it seemed like an obvious answer since he had always despised the season. Overbearing Mamas and their brood of debutante daughters were his idea of hell, but now he felt different. He realised that he did in fact want to go to London, not just because he was now married and off the Mamas' radar, but because you wanted to go. Mattheo was faced with the overwhelming realisation that he simply wanted to do whatever you wanted to do.

"Oh, dear, you don't, do you? We can turn around," you said quickly, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"No," he rushed to say, "We shall go to London."

"But you don't want to go."

"I do."

"But-"

"We are going, and that's final."

You opened your mouth to say something more, but decided against it, and turned your gaze to out the window.

The rest of the journey was silent.

***

"We need to discuss the rules for our time here," Mattheo said once you had settled into Riddle Manor for some dinner.

"We do?"

He hummed, "I will not be attending every social event we are invited to."

"But- people will think our marriage is rocky if you're not with me. The ton will talk, they always do."

"I said not every social event," he reminded, "I will attend some."

"You have to attend the first one," you said, "That one is the most important."

Mattheo agreed, "Of course, but from then on, it will be events here and there. You are welcome to attend alone."

You deflated a bit, but nodded your head, "Maybe we can host a ball at some point."

His eyebrows raised. Riddle Manor hadn't been the location of a ball in almost thirty years - there had been no lady of the house to host it.

"Perhaps," he replied pensively.

***

The next social event, to Mattheo's great horror, was the infamous Smythe-Smith musicale. Otherwise known as a torturous cacophony of four tone-deaf girls of whom were trusted with instruments that should have undoubtably never been allowed within five feet of them. You had heard what the quartet were like, having never attended yourself, and - honestly - you were rather excited to finally be a part of an inside joke of the ton that you had been left out of. Your husband was not nearly so enthusiastic, having attended exactly twice before, but not for a good many years.

Unfortunately, as selfish a woman as Lady Malton was, she was more than willing to sacrifice her hearing in order to secure impressive marriages for all of her (biological) daughters. So, you weren't surprised to enter the Smythe-Smith ballroom and see her stood with Grace closely by her side.

"Introducing, the Duke and Duchess of Covenshire," the man stood by the door announced, making your half-sister and stepmother quickly turn their attentions in your direction.

You squeezed Mattheo's arm tightly, to which he patted your hand and nodded when your family members approached.

"Your grace," Lady Malton gave a gentle curtsy - to Mattheo, not you, "How fares your marriage?"

It was a question that bordered on the edge of improper for polite society. "Most excellent," the duke replied coolly, making you smile to yourself.

Lady Malton gave the politest smile her sour face could muster.

"What brings you here?" Mattheo asked, trying to gauge why Lady Malton would put herself through the Smythe-Smith musicale with no daughters on the marriage mart.

"Marriage prospects, of course."

"Is Miss Grace Malton not engaged to Sir Charles?" he asked.

"Well- uh- yes."

The duke raised an eyebrow at the woman, and you must say that you were thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

"They shall be married at the end of the week," she said reluctantly, "But until the vows are complete, things can change."

That was when you realised: Lady Malton was praying on securing a last-minute proposal from someone of a higher status than Sir Charles. If it meant marrying into more wealth and more powerful connections, surely your father would agree to it.

"You should come to the wedding," Grace blurted out, "We thought you would still be in the country, so we didn't send an invitation."

You knew the real reason that you hadn't received an invitation was because Lady Malton would have taken control of all the wedding arrangements, and you were most certainly not on her invite list. But, she couldn't revoke the invitation to the duke's face and in a public setting, so she forced herself to smile and agree.

"That would be lovely," you beamed, purposefully showing as much enthusiasm as possible, simply to upset your stepmother, "Now, if you excuse us, I wish to secure front row seats."

Multiple people around you stared at you like you were insane - they just wouldn't understand your motivations.

"Trust me, front row seats are never the ones that need to be fought for here," Mattheo whispered to you as you both moved over to the rows of chairs set up.

You shrugged, "You're sitting with me whether you like it or not."

"Ah, Lady Danbury," he spoke as you came face to face with the renowned old woman sat in the very central front seat.

"Your grace," she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Come to enjoy the musicale?" your husband asked, the sarcastic undertone impossible to miss - at least to you.

"But, of course," Lady Danbury smiled, "I attend every year."

You desperately wanted to enter the conversation, but you didn't know how.

"You're the eldest Miss Malton, aren't you?" she said towards you, making you freeze on the spot.

"Uh, yes - Lady Riddle now, actually."

She hummed, waving her cane around despite being sat, "Yes, Duchess of Covenshire. Quite grand, no?"

You awkwardly smiled.

The dowager countess turned her attentions back to Mattheo, "I must admit, I didn't think you would marry for quite some time, your grace."

"Nor did I," he simply replied, which for some reason, slightly hurt you. You had inconvenienced his life: you were a burden to him as a result of him being a good person.

"I fear that love does tend to have the effect of uprooting our lives," Lady Danbury said wistfully, a gentler emotion than you had ever witnessed on her from afar at the few social gatherings you had been allowed at.

Love.

"I only wish I had been so lucky as to have had it been with my husband."

You looked up in surprise. To be honest, you knew very little of the dowager countess' life: she had been a widow for as long as you had been alive, so it was hard to imagine her having a husband. All you knew was that she was widowed very young, and chose to never remarry. Part of you had assumed that it was because of how much she loved her husband, like the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton. It was clear now that you were wrong, but you knew better than to pry.

"Alas, let us enjoy this musicale," she said with a glint in her eye, "It is meant to be a joyous occasion, after all."

You knew she said it sarcastically, but, for you, this was indeed a joyous occasion. You were more than thrilled to finally be a part of London society - the ton.

Sparing a glass in Mattheo's direction, you were surprised to see that he was already looking at you.

***

The duke did not attend another social event with you for the rest of the week, but almost every night you were out. It was strange, not needing to be chaperoned as a married woman, but you quite enjoyed it.

The first two events alone you spent as a wallflower - albeit a married one - which weren't so enjoyable. But, once people realised that the Duchess of Covenshire was present at the social events, you began attracting a lot of attention from fellow ladies who aspired to be friends with someone of such a powerful status. Soon, you were mingling with the ton as if you had always done so, although your social skills were still inept. Thankfully, most were willing to overlook this due to you being a duchess.

Then, your sister's wedding came around, and it meant that you would have your second outing with your husband accompanying you. That made you more excited than you were willing to admit.

"Blue is most becoming on you," Mattheo spoke from behind you, making you jump. You hadn't heard him enter your bed chamber.

"Thank you," you replied, "I had it tailored on Tuesday."

"How much?"

You blanched - it had been quite expensive. You had felt guilty at the time, but found it difficult to say no to the Madam who had been dressing you.

"Darling, you are free to spend my money, I am simply curious," he reassured you, "My wife deserves only the best, after all."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Was it normal - for you to feel this way towards your husband when it was merely a marriage of convenience? You were snapped out of your thoughts when he moved closer to you and began kissing along your neck.

"Mattheo," you murmured.

He hummed, "Shame you're already dressed," and then he reluctantly pulled back, "But, we must depart now anyway."

That was the first hint you had received that he wanted to repeat the intimacies of your consummation. And it made your skin feel hot and prickly.

***

Your half-sister was a gorgeous bride: her elegant dress matching her eye colour and making her glistening smile seem bright. It was obvious that she was elated to be with Sir Charles, the incredibly young baronet who hung off her every word. One could only describe it as a love match.

"Thank you," you said to Mattheo, who was stood next to you as you applauded the newly weds.

"For what?"

"For recommending Sir Charles - and for marrying me."

He chuckled, "There is no need to thank me, darling. I can hardly complain about having a breath-taking wife, can I?"

Yet again, butterflies, and the overwhelming sense of desire.

Soon, it was time for the first dance of the newly married couple, celebrated back at Sir Charles' London residence. After they danced the first number alone, more couples joined the dance floor for a waltz. You couldn't help but look up at your husband hopefully.

He sighed fondly and held out his hand, "My lady?"

"My lord," you murmured, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you on to the dance floor.

As you moved into position, you found yourself avoiding looking at Mattheo's face, as for some reason it scared you. Maybe it was the proximity, or the emotions you had been consistently feeling for the last few days. Regardless, you felt timid.

"Darling?" your stomach flipped, and you were forced to meet his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I prefer it when you look at me," Mattheo muttered before he could stop the words from tumbling out. Momentarily, he froze, unable to ignore the way his heart burned in his chest.

"Okay," you said breathlessly, now not being able to tear your eyes away from him.

"You're so perfect."

A lump formed in your throat, "No one's perfect."

"Perfect for me," he said so quietly you almost didn't hear, just as the dance came to an end.

You stood in silence for a few moments, unable to process his words.

Eventually, you spoke, "Mattheo, I- I..."

The look in his eyes beckoned you on.

"Heaven knows I know nothing of love nor what it's like to be loved, but- but I think I love you."

His expression was unreadable, and you felt as if you had said the wrong thing, right up until, "I think I love you too."

God, why were tears pricking in your eyes?

No one had ever said that to you before.

And then you shoved yourself into his arms, desperately seeking warmth and affection as if it were your life line. The other people at the wedding and propriety be damned.

Mattheo moved his head to whisper in your ear.

"All's well that ends well to end up with you."

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masterlist

written; 09/08/2023 —> 04/10/2023 published;05/10/2023 edited; —/—/——

553 notes · View notes

crvptidgf · 25 days

Text

Bad Blood • pt. II

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

➸ summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, you find it difficult to let go of the past. Your trauma lies deeper than you think. When when you meet somebody who understands your pain, your journey of self-discovery and healing begins to set sail. For once, everything in your life seems to click.

➸ warnings/notes: reader is of romanian descent, afab! reader, mentions of trauma, descriptions of death and traumatic events, profanity, friends to lovers trope, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (18+), trauma bonding, eventual mutual pining, mentions of the golden trio being dicks for the sake of the story

word count: 1.9k

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THE DAY AFTER the choosing ceremony was a little anticlimactic.

It was our first day of classes, and everybody had gotten sorted into their designated houses last night. We of course already knew where we would be put - the ceremony was more of an introduction into first year than anything. It was customary to put on the sorting hat - kind of like a rite of passage, or an initiation.

We had done it in secondary school and we had done it again while moving onto our next phase in life. The next phase - which I had no idea what held in store for me.

At the beginning of summer we had chosen our preferred subjects, classes which we would be studying in detail as opposed to the general knowledge that we had learned the years prior.

My first of the day was potions; obviously.

Since the majority - or more like all - of my friends were in Gryffindor, I left the Slytherin common room alone. Walking past them in the Great Hall, I bid them a good morning before finding a seat at my appointed table.

We were never allowed to stray from our house tables at breakfast - that was only reserved for lunch. A rule which was quite silly, I admit, but it was what we had to live by.

"It's a pity that you can't sit with your friends," came Enzo's voice, his body sliding next to mine on the bench. I shrugged casually before digging into the plates before me.

"It's alright - I survived the last 3 years of school, how different can college be?"

His eyes held a certain sadness in them before he cleared his throat. I was glad to be talking to him again.

"Well you can always sit with me."

I thanked him as I shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth, muffling my gratitude. As much as I hated to admit it, I was really appreciative of him. It felt great to have someone to sit with.

"Oh yeah, such a shame that you can't sit with those gits," said Theo. I almost didn't even notice him and Mattheo arriving. They sat in front of me, ignoring Enzo's glare at Theo's words.

I had no problem dealing with assholes who thought they were better than everyone. After all, Harry and I had our fair share of arguments with Draco Malfoy. He had calmed down immensely, but before the war he was a handful.

Theo needed less of an ego. Well, what's one more prideful Slytherin to kick down a notch?

"Leave off, Nott," said Enzo.

I simply ignored him as I dug into my breakfast. That day I made the note that Hogwarts University breakfasts were a God send. I was almost completely full after not even half of the plate.

It was nice to talk to other Slytherins. It was nice to not be judged simply by the name of my house - and it was nice to not have to sit alone for once.

Although Theo was a bit judgmental of my friends, he was nice to talk to. It didn't last long, though. He began to complain about the Golden Trio - saying that they were too pretentious and up their own ass.

"Those are my friends you're talking about," I said. I tried to not let him get to me, but with each word that exited his foul mouth, my blood boiled one degree higher.

Theo just rolled his eyes as he continued eating.

Mattheo's gaze met mine over the table.

"What class do you have first?" he asked. I was glad for the change in topic, so I shook my hands out under the table to get rid of my tension. I sighed as I responded.

"Potions. Why?"

"Me too. I'll walk with you," he said as he grabbed his bag off the floor and stood up. We still had a few minutes left of breakfast, but since I was already finished eating, I agreed. And anyway, I didn't want to be around Nott any longer than I had to be.

Leaving the hall, I breathed a sigh of relief, not even realizing that I was holding it in.

"Sorry about him," said Mattheo. "He's kind of a dick sometimes."

I scoffed.

"Yeah that's one way of putting it."

Mattheo stopped walking as he stood to face me. His hands were in the pockets of his blazer, letting his bag hand loosely off his left shoulder.

"He can be like that sometimes, but he's really nice once you get to know him."

I made a noise of disbelief as I crossed my arms over my chest. How good of a friend could a house supremacist be? Did he learn nothing from the years of war that raged on in the wizarding world? Did he not understand that the only way we even won was by working together and getting rid of the notion of blood superiority altogether?

Merlin, had he not heard the story of what happened to Enzo's parents?

"Don't think he'll be happy to know I'm a half-blood, I assume."

Mattheo's eyes squeezed shut as he bowed his head down. He huffed as he ran a hand down his face.

"God, he's not a blood supremacist. He just has too much pride in himself."

I nodded.

"That much I figured," I muttered as I began to walk again. Mattheo seemed nice, I just didn't want to hear him justify his friend's actions. I didn't care if he was nice. All I cared about was that he was talking down on my friends. People who took me in when I had nobody.

Mattheo sped up a bit, jogging to catch up to me. His shoulder brushed mine as we trekked along the hallways, looking into classrooms to find the correct one.

"And for the record - I like your friends. Never really spoken to them, but Harry does seem nice," he said, breaking the silence.

"He is," I stated simply before stopping in front of the potions room.

It was down in the dungeons, the dark stone walls letting little heat enter in that particular section of the castle. It didn't help that it was underwater, either. My hands rubbed up and down my arms, my robe providing little warmth against the gusts of subtle wind.

Mattheo leaned against the wall beside the door, studying me.

My arms were still tightened across my chest, and my eyes avoided contact with his. Something about being alone with him felt different. Last night I had no issue looking directly at him, but in the silence of the dungeons, I felt more intimidated.

"I get it. You're protective of your friends, but they're not exactly saints either."

My eyes hesitantly lifted up, meeting his brown irises. What was that supposed to mean?

"How would you know?"

He sighed, looking down at his feet. "Let's just get inside. Class is about to start."

I was about to object, but as I saw more and more students marching across the hallways, I decided he was right. As if on cue, the bell rang to signify the start of lectures. I guess I'd have to pry him for answers at a later time.

I sighed as I sat down at a random desk, only to be surprised when Mattheo bumped against me. He adjusted himself on the stool as he dropped his bag down.

"You don't mind, right?"

Truthfully, I was a bit happy he sat next to me. It would be nice to have a friend as my partner. A lot of the class was full of Slytherins - and as I stated before, I didn't have many Slytherin friends.

"As long as you don't make me fail the class."

His face broke out into a smile as he sucked his teeth. He looked forward to the front of the class.

"I'm amazing at potions."

I felt doubt rise in my chest. I gave him a skeptical 'mhm', telling him that I'll believe it when I see it. He clearly took it as a challenge. The emotion behind his eyes changed as he stared me down, smirking.

My nerves grew as he continued to look at me even when Professor Snape entered the classroom, only breaking the eye contact when he began the roll call.

My heart thrummed against my ribcage. In the small amount of space that we had at our desk, our knees were brushing against each other. I would move away, but every few seconds I'd forget and my knee would bump against his again.

All I got in response was a bump back. We were practically playing footsie under the table, but with our knees.

Snape began to do theory and we opened our books to the first chapter. It was revision of the most common potion ingredients, including the basics - Wolfsbane, African Sea Salt, Bat Wings, and Asphodel. This was what I was good at. Amazing even. What I didn't expect was for Mattheo to be just as good.

"What can act as an antidote for most poisons, with the exception of Basilisk venom," came Snape's monotonous voice.

My hand sprung up in the air, but Mattheo beat me to it.

"Yes, Mr.Riddle?"

"Bezoar."

'Suck up,' I thought. It was slightly hypocritical of me to think that, but my pride got the best of me. Especially when people were just as good at something as I was.

"Correct. 10 points to Slytherin."

I huffed in annoyance as my hand went back down, continuing to take down notes. I felt a nudge next to me only to see a piece of paper slide towards me.

'What's the problem? Mad that I'm better than you?'

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the page back to him. I muttered under my breath at him.

"As if."

I could hear him chuckle from beside me as he crumpled the parchment up. His quill flickered around as he wrote notes down, a small smile still etched onto his face.

"What is a common ingredient used in a Wiggenweld Potion?"

I had heard the question, but upon seeing Mattheo's hand raise up yet again, my eyes drifted to him. My eyes narrowed and I sent him a nasty look as I waited for Snape to call on him.

However, Snape called my name instead upon seeing me glare at Mattheo. My faze flickered away from him to look at the Professor. Ignoring the smug look on my potion partner's face, I responded.

"Billywing Sting Slime."

"...Correct. But next time, I'd appreciate you paying attention."

Mattheo snickered from beside me and I kicked his leg under the table, shutting him up immediately.

This was going to be a long year.

After finishing the double Potions lesson, Mattheo and I left Snape's classroom. He would not shut up about the fact that his potions knowledge was as good as mine. He bragged and bragged until I finally had enough. Pulling out my potions book, I hit his shoulder with it.

"Mattheo will you shut up!" I exclaimed. While my voice was angry, I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

His hand came to pinch at my cheeks.

"So cute when you're mad," he said. It's as if he knew it would annoy me more. My cheeks tinted pink as I looked away quickly.

"Why did I even let you sit next to me?" I asked rhetorically, huffing as I sped my pace up.

Mattheo's feet quickened to catch up to me. His arm came to rest around my shoulders, his other hand coming up to mess with my hair. Through my ruffled strands I could make out Hermione and Ron, walking hand in hand.

They stopped in front of me, watching the scene unfold.

Shit. This could not end well.

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diorgirl444 · 1 year

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would people be angry if i wrote a mattheo x reader but i made him like hate the deatheaters and stuff? he’d still be a slytherin and an angsty teenage boy but more like “i hate my life” then “i hate a marginalised community of the wizarding world” it’s really hard because there is no canon surrounding him, so does it matter if his character is written how i like to imagine him instead?

#idk i just don’t feel comfortable with him being a evil character #is that really bad?#because ik for loads of people that’s the appeal but it isn’t for me?#idk you tell me #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #fancast #harry potter universe

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lou-lj · 1 year

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always there for you

theodor nott x fem reader

(fluff/ hurt comfort)

summary: Theo invites you to a slithering party but it doesn’t go as planned (also y’all not a couple but the crush is incredibly visible) (maybe i should write more about how this crush develops?)

warnings: anxiety attack

“Hey Y/n, i’ve searched the whole castle for you! How long have you been in here?” The tall brown haired boy stood before you with his green tie hanging loose around his neck. “Theo maybe you forgot, but we have to write our transfiguration essay to next week, which makes half of our grade.“ A small smile flys over his features as he closes the books lying in front of you. “That answered my question, let’s go eat dinner, pansy is saving your favorite pie.” You stretched while a yawn escaped your mouth “Oh that does sound nice.” Theo collected your pullover, books and bag as you shoved your writing utensils in said bag. Which he draped over his shoulder lightly shoving you out the library.

Together you arrived at the great hall where some people were already eating, while others just arrived or left. You went over to his friend group sitting down next to Blaise, “Hey you look as if you just woke up, here.” He handed you something that looked like juice but when you tried it the strong alcohol was definitely noticeable. “Y’all partying tonight or what’s that for?” you asked as you gave the cup back to the grinning boy. “Yeah, well actually the Stytherins are throwing a party for our quidditch team tonight. I wanted to ask if you maybe would come, just if you want to i know partys aren’t your thing, but i thought maybe youd be down to celebrate my win… I mean not my win just you know i part of the team and-" Pansy came to his rescue as he began to loose the topic in his ramble. “I’ll be there too, we’ll all be and we’d like you to come!“ You gave it a thought but decided to agree, if you didn’t like it you could just leave. It wouldn’t be a big deal “Sure i come to celebrate you Theo.“ you said while shooting him a wink. “Here you are y/n! We need you, Mandy cut her own hair and is now having a mental breakdown.“ Sue Li one of your roommates stood behind you, smiling apologetic. “Oh man ok sure, see y’all later!“ With that you vanished out the hall.“She forgot to eat, i’ll save her some for later right? Yes she should eat before drinking.“ Pansy laughed at Theo, while Draco shook his head “God you’re so crushing on this girl!“ “What? No way.”

After helping your friends and changing out of your uniform your watch was already on 8:45pm so you just quickly fixed up your hair and then sprinted to the slytherin common room. As you walked in Pansy who was clearly drunk hugged you. “Guys she made it!” The others cheered, as she dragged you onto some sort of dance area. The room was incredibly crowded and a heavy smell of sweat and alcohol mixed in your nose. “Here have a drink.” Matheo shoved a beer in your hand which came very handy for you as your mouth grew dryer every second. You took a sip while trying to relax. Theo who stood next to you leaned down to talk to you “I’m glad you still made it, everything fine with Mandy?” “Yeah we made it work, sorry that i’m late.” “No worry’s.”

The party grew even more crowded and louder every minute and you didn’t feel comfortable but the others were having fun so you weren’t gonna say anything. But Theo’s eyes were constantly on you and he didn’t need you to say anything in order of sensing your anxiousness. “Hey let’s get out of here yeah?”

He took your hand and lead you to his room. “You ok?” He turned to you after closing the door. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and your hands were trembling out of no where. “I- I don’t know Theo-“ He rushed to your side patting your cheeks dry with his sleeve. “Hey y/n look at me, you’re ok, alright? Breathe with me, come on let’s sit down.” he sat down on a bed placing you on his lap. You buried your head in his chest as he soothingly caressed your back.

“Ah shit i’m sorry for all this.” you half laugh after calming down. Theo shook his head while smiling at you “Nah stop being sorry for this kinda stuff i’m glad you’re ok.” “I’ll wash my face, be right back.” He nodded while opening a window. As you came back a slight breeze was coming from the window where Theo sat. “Come here, I took some food from diner cause you left with out eating and-“ You smiled while walking towards him, “Thanks,” you sat down next to him unpacking the food while leaning onto his chest “not just for the food but for helping me and being there for me.” “I didn’t mind. I’ll always be there for you, ya know that?”

A/N: Hey guys, I’m not really happy with how this fic turned out, but I wanted to post something cause I feel like it’s been some time. I don’t even know what’s going on I just hadn’t had the time or motivation to write much lately. I hope y’all still happy with what i put on here cause i’m just confused with myself hahah….. idk what this note is, live with it or don’t i’m a mess it happens sorry, love y’all :)

#fanfic #harry potter #slytherin #theo nott #theo x reader #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #hurt #comfort #anxitey #fluff #school crush #crush #theodor nott

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sophal22 · 2 years

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Heyyy! So i have been reading fan fictions on here for almost 2 years now and i finally decided i will start writing some myself. So if you have any wishes what i should write about tell me :) also english isn’t my first language so sorry if i make any mistakes.

I will write fluff, angst, comfort and hurt for these characters:

(I don’t strictly only write about those characters you can also ask about others but i can’t promise that i know them :))

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank

Harry Potter:

Golden era

Theo Nott

Mattheo Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Marauder era

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James Potter

Regulus Black

Stranger Things:

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Hunger Games:

Finnik Odair

ALSO I’M TOTALLY COOL WITH LGTBQ+ RELATED STUFF AND I WOULD ALSO WRITE ABOUT POLY RELATIONSHIPS AS LONG AS THERE IS NO INCEST!

#fanfic #fluff #angst #comfort #eddie munson #steve harrington #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #robin buckley #regulus black #jj maybank #rafe cameron #theo nott #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #x reader #poly!marauders x reader

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itsaperiwinkleworldv2 · 2 years

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Hello! 🥰

Further details about the comfort letters!

It's 20.06.22 and they are still open! Don't be shy! 💗

See my pinned post and message me!

Guess who's a dumbass and posted this on the wrong blog?

Find me at @hogwartscomfortletters for all the details ☺️

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tomriddleslove · 3 months

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What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader comfort

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maraudersmyloves · 3 months

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a really fluffy Mattheo Riddle always cuddling and touching you (especially late nights in the slytherin common room), I love all your posts, especially the Mattheo riddle content

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: touchy!Mattheo riddle x reader

Warnings: Mattheo whining about you not being glued to him, a mention of Y/N

Word count: 853

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Disclaimer 2: Made this by listening to the smiths

"2:35 AM". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You love quiet moments like this. The whole group was just sitting around, everyone doing their own thing in each other's company. Pansy is coloring her nails while sitting on the floor, Theo is reading Dead poets society in the big armchair across from you, Enzo is laying on the floor in front of the couch you're sitting on, twirling his wand and staring at the ceiling, Blaise is making a mixtape next to the fireplace, Draco is studying for potions at the small table your feet are laid on, Tom is scheming about how to ruin some poor souls life and Mattheo is turning a feather into all sorts of things (currently a pigeon) whilst annoying draco. You are just watching your friends and humming along to the earworm in your head, while trying not to fall asleep.

Your heavy eyes fixate on Mattheo and the way he pokes his tongue into his cheek in focus. A singular curl falls into his face and you have the urge to stand up, walk over and move it away as if he couldn't do it himself. He doesn't seem to notice you're staring at him. Pansy does.

"God, Y/N this is disgusting. We get it you have a boyfriend," she says while fake gagging. You startle out of your staring and instead fumble with an answer that won't get more annoyed groans from the boys around you. "I wasn't even doing anything!"

Draco perks up from the corner to give his just lovely input "Just making love eyes at our local idiot over there." You roll your eyes. "Shut up and study"

And if this wasn't already uncomfortable of course Mattheo has something to say too "Why so embarrassed, love? I don't mind" He smirks and swiftly gets hit in the head with Theo's book causing you to snort out a laugh and the others to join in while Mattheo's staring daggers at a smirking Theo. "You know what, for that i'm going to flirt even harder."

Pansy laughs at theo's misery when suddenly she realizes she's going to have to witness you two being all lovey dovey, "What have we gotten ourselfs into"

You watch Mattheo stand up, step over Enzo on the ground and settle down next to you. You smile and let out a small giggle as he kisses you. As your lips connect a warm and fuzzy feeling washes over your body. It's comfortable and familiar. You can hear enzo gag and for some reason that is the funniest thing you've heard all day. You break the kiss by breaking into a fit of giggles that only get stronger when you see Mattheo's amused look.

Chuckling, he pulls you into his lap while you keep laughing. "Love, are you high?" You look up in shock, "No!"

"Then what is happening right now?"

You shrug and hide your face in his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body. Your limps start to relax and you let yourself melt into him. Humming in comfort when he gives you a little kiss on the crown of your head you let yourself fall asleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

When you open your eyes again, they're a bit tacky and you have to blink a few times to realize where you are. Mattheo has apparently carried you up to his dorm and is now cuddling you in his bed. Your whole body feels mushy as you stretch and turn in Mattheo's arms making him grumble in his sleep. You look at the cherry red, heart-shaped clock on his bedside table. You bought it for him at a little market in your hometown, seeing as red's his favorite color and the clock was just too cute not to buy. You were kinda scared to give it to him, thinking it was too 'girly' but he was so happy that you even thought of him over the holidays that he (in his words) was forced to kiss the living shit out of you. It's currently reading at 2:35 AM.

You try to wiggle out of his arms to get your wand to charm yourself some water into the empty glass next to the clock. But Mattheo's strong arms only grip your waist tighter when he realizes you're trying to get out. He kisses your neck and whispers "Stay, love," into your skin. "Téo, darling, I need some water." He whines and pulls you impossibly closer. "You can get water in the morning." He keeps leaving light kisses all over your neck and shoulder to try and coax you into staying and any other day it would've worked but your mouth is feeling more disgusting by the second. "Where's my wand?"

"Left it downstairs," he mumbles, his breath tickling your neck and making you giggle lightly. "Watcha laughing 'bout?" You squirm in his hold as his hands start traveling up your sides, knowing how ticklish you are. "Téo! Téo, stop it, you're tickling me." You breathe out between laughs. He kisses your neck, "That's kinda the point."

You end up forgetting about the water.

#fluff #headcanon #writing #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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priniya · 7 months

Note

Can you please write a comfort fic about jealous theo x reader? Maybe he gets jealous and then over thinks the situation so the reader comforts him?

If not that’s totally fine no stress! Thank you!

🧸 BEAUTIFUL BOY

synopsis. thedore nott gets jealous over his girlfriend’s friendship with mattheo.

notes. theodore nott x girlfriend!reader. established relationship, jealous theodore.

theo hated jealousy.

as a child, he used to be very possessive of his things, which always resulted in silly arguments with his cousins, when he threw a tantrum over a tantrum if someone touched some of his toys. as he grow up, he began to realize how much he saw his father in himself, so nott promised himself to never show that side of him again.

and he didn’t. theodore would always bottle up his feelings and then lash it all out at someone, who accidentally got into his path, and made one mistake, receiving a rough punch in the face afterwards.

that was until he met you — the meaning of his life, the sunshine to his grumpy, the member to make his family be found or anything that would make your stomach erupts in butterflies if he said that out loud. you gave him a new point of view, the one that let him feel… lightly, feel relieved about his problems. it was refreshing, really.

he should’ve known from the beginning that you, and your best friend come in a package. and he should’ve known, because the three of you were great friends even before you two started dating.

at first, it was nothing. a mere thought that occurred to him on a sleepless night, vanishing right after his brain was clouded with exhaustion, eyes falling shut. then, the strange feeling of bottled up jealousy got him.

your boyfriend started noticing all those small things that had never really mattered to him before. the way matt’s eyes always lit up when you entered the room, how he laughed at your jokes, how his hands somehow always found its way to wrap around you, or just touch you.

jesus. it made his blood boil, every single time. the outcome would easily disappoint you if you knew right away. when theo hated his possessive side, you despised when he fought random people at parties — even though it was awfully attractive to see him all angry, you hated patching him up, being a witness of every small wince, a gasp, or a hiss as you pressed a gauze to his face. you always thought of consequences as well, what if someone told the teachers or what if it ended up as a case in ministry of magic?

you wouldn’t even know that your boyfriend was struggling with endless thoughts of you, leaving him for mattheo. thank god that you were blessed with lorenzo, who apparently couldn’t keep his mouth shut (“i wouldn’t spill it, nott! you were just sulking, i had to tell her!”).

at the beginning, you just thought it was a silly prank the boys tried to pull on you – to see if you reacted in anyway, or to just mess with your head a little. the perspective changed as soon as you noticed how stiff theo would get, whenever riddle joined you. it was all confirmed, when he began avoiding you like plague.

“teddy.” you sighed, barging into his dorm (ironically, shared with mattheo) without knocking. “we have to talk.” the way you phrased it was enough to make him straighten up in his bed.

in his eyes, you were about to break up with him and reason it that you just didn’t love him anymore, and fell in love with your best friend. he could hear his heart shattering into pieces, see the tears that would dig holes in his cheeks as soon as you leave the room.

“something happened, baby?” he asked, trying his hardest to brush off the pain, accumulating in the back of his head. “did i upset you in any way?”

theodore watched you get closer to him, resting your arms against the wooden frame. “well, was there a reason to get upset?” your eyebrows were lifted as you made eye contact with him. “hm?”

a long sighed left his lips. he stood up from the bed, leaving his sheets all messy. he took a step forward, close enough to wrap his arms around your body, trying to get you as close as possible. “y/n…” he hummed, bringing his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to your shoulder.

it always worked if he tried to calm you down. not this time though.

“can you tell me what’s going on with you?” you asked. taking a few steps back, because you were mad at him and not a single kiss could change your mind (it could, you were just delusional). “did i do something to upset you?” you knew the answer, whatsoever you wanted to hear it from him.

“no– no, baby. why are you saying that?” theo frowned.

“so, you’ve been avoiding me all week long just for the funsies?”

shit, he thought. so you noticed it all. noticed how distant he grew. his eyes closed for a second and you really believed he would brush you off again, just like he did all this week. “it’s stupid.” he turned his head towards you. “i was jealous.”

your silence has pulled on his tongue. “of how mattheo acts around you, and uh. i got scared that if i tell you about it, you’re either gonna laugh at me or agree with my worries and leave me for matt.”

“teddy.” the way you were still using his nickname eased his worries a bit. “i love you, okay? only you, always you.” you confessed, dropping the L bomb for the first time in your relationship, finally feeling ready to. it made his heart flutter, soo much it almost pained him.

“you do?” you chuckled at his words, giving up the tough girlfriend act, your palms cupping his cheeks, bringing him a little closer. “y/n, i am so sorry, i should’ve talked to you.” his arms wrapped around your waist, forehead falling onto your shoulder.

“you should have.” the words rolled on your tongue in a soft manner as you placed a few kisses on his temple, nails gently scratching his nape. “i see where you’re coming from, but you gotta talk to me about things like that.”

it took theo five seconds to pick you up and throw you on his bed, cuddling up to you as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear, reassuring him of your feelings.

“but if you could, you’d choose me over anyone?” theo lifted his eyebrows at you, and you couldn’t hold a giggle back.

“well, over anyone?” you teased, grinning. “i could never not choose pansy.”

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theo nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott rec #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott rec #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott x you

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theostrophywife · 5 months

Text

chicken noodle soup.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths

author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭

Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays.

Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick.

As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.

Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.

With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found.

At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life.

Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you.

When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely.

“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?”

The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?”

Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation.

“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.”

“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.”

“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.”

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave.

With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.

Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.

By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course.

The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again.

In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem.

Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side.

“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?”

The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot.

“Nice slippers, princess.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?”

“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”

“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?”

Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.

“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.”

You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.”

“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?”

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy.

The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.

"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."

You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."

"Come on, you should sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."

Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon.

“Here, have some of this. It should help.”

As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.

“Chicken noodle soup?”

As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it.

Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?”

For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?”

Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.”

You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?”

The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.”

After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little.

“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.”

“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.”

Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?”

“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed. It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.

“How do you know all of that?”

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.”

“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”

You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?”

“You missed me.”

Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.”

“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?”

“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”

“Yeah, but they’re not you.”

He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.

“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.”

“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.”

“That wasn’t a denial, you know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?”

“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.”

“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.”

The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?”

“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’

Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.”

The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh.

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer.

"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"

"If you tell anyone—"

"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."

Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."

You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."

"Why's that, princess?"

"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."

"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."

"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."

He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.

“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.

You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?”

Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.”

You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?”

You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.”

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#a cuddle from him could reset my brain chemistry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff

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