sadnymi

[sadnymi]

Dark haven

singledad mattheo riddle x reader

Chapter five >> chapter six

Two weeks later…

To say this house wasn’t scary as hell would be a lie.

Even with sunlight pouring through tall windows and the sound of birds chirping in the garden, the place had a weight to it—heavy, ancient, and full of secrets behind every locked door and cold hallway.

And Mattheo? He never spoke to you unless it was *urgent*. No small talk. No good mornings. No asking if you were alright after that night he came home covered in blood. Just clipped commands, tense nods, and unreadable looks from across rooms.

But Kai…

Kai made everything better.

He gave your life a pulse again. A meaning. A rhythm.

His laughter was like a shield between you and the house’s cold, suffocating presence.

You were playing hide-and-seek again that afternoon, his favorite game these days.

“Kai!” you called, smiling as you tiptoed through one of the endless corridors. “If I find you, you’re gonna have to eat the green beans tonight!”

His soft giggles echoed from somewhere—maybe under one of the tables? Or behind the curtains?

You pressed your hand to the wall, laughing quietly. “I’m *very* good at this, you know!”

One of the guards—the huge one with the deep voice and scar across his temple—caught your eye from down the hall. He didn’t say a word, but gave you the tiniest smirk and a nod to the right.

You mouthed “thank you,” and turned with a grin.

They weren’t so scary anymore, these guards. After spending entire days wandering the estate, learning the rules of Kai’s world, you’d gotten used to them. Sometimes they even helped with the games—just a little. A hint. A glance. A smirk.

You opened a door to check the next room.

But something was off.

It wasn’t a playroom or a study. It was dark. Cold. Silent.

You stepped inside—barely—and the door suddenly slammed shut behind you.

**Click.**

Your breath stopped.

**No. No. No.**

That sound. That lock. That darkness.

Your heartbeat exploded in your chest. You threw yourself at the door and started pounding, screaming—

“HELLO?! GUYS?! GUYS!! Please—please! *Open it—open it now!*”

Silence.

Your fingers scrambled for the handle, but it wouldn’t turn. The door didn’t budge.

**No.**

**Not again.**

The shadows curled around you like smoke. You dropped to your knees, hugging them to your chest, eyes wild, breath stuttering.

**No light. No air. No way out.**

The panic rose like fire.

You could hear their voices. Their touches. Your father's footsteps, his fists.

You gasped for air.

It was like you were in the house again. Back in that room. Locked in.

After you said *no*—and they came in anyway.

After your father said “It’s your fault.”

Your sobs cracked out of your throat as you rocked on the floor, trembling. “Stop it,” you whispered. “Please, stop it…”

Nearly an hour passed.

Then—**click.**

The door opened.

You flinched, covered your head. “No—no, please don’t touch me! *Please, Dad—don’t let them touch me! I don’t want this—don’t make me—*”

“Y/N,” a voice said. Low. Not your father’s. But you couldn’t hear.

“Y/N,” again. Closer.

A hand touched your arm.

You screamed. Loud, broken, feral. “NO! Don’t—don’t touch me!”

“Y/N,” the voice said urgently, “*hey—hey, look at me.*”

You opened your eyes, chest heaving, body shaking so violently you could barely see through your tears.

It was *Mattheo.*

He crouched in front of you, eyes wide, voice soft . “It’s just me. It’s me, alright? You’re safe. I’m here.”

You blinked hard—and then threw yourself into his chest with a guttural sob.

“Please—please don’t let them touch me,” you choked out, clutching him like your life depended on it.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, strong and secure, pulling you tight against him.

“Who, love?” he whispered, holding the back of your head. “Don’t let who? There’s no one here. You’re safe. I swear.”

But you couldn’t answer. You were too far gone.

All you could do was cry. And all he could do was hold you.

You cried so hard your lungs ached.

Your body trembled against Mattheo’s chest as he sat there, holding you like the world might split in two. You couldn’t stop it—your sobs came in waves, swallowing you whole. Panic clawed at your skin, stealing your breath, leaving your fingers numb and your heart in shreds.

“It’s my fault…” you choked, the words pouring out before you could stop them. “It’s all my fault…”

“No,” Mattheo murmured instantly, tightening his arms around you. “No, hey, look at me—it’s not your fault. Nothing about this is your fault.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Your throat was raw, your cheeks soaked. He didn't let go—not once. And when he felt you getting weaker in his arms, he shifted gently, his hands steady and careful. You didn’t even realize he was carrying you until you felt the soft fabric of a bed beneath you.

Your bed.

He laid you down slowly, sat beside you, brushing your messy hair away from your face, his fingers warm and trembling slightly.

You curled into yourself, your knees pulled up, face buried into the pillow. You were still crying, quieter now, but deeper—like something had finally snapped.

His voice came again. “Who hurt you?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “When you said *them*—was it the guards?”

Your eyes flew open.

You shook your head fast, panicked, like you’d just realized the weight of what you’d said.

“No,” you whispered quickly, sitting up, chest heaving. “No. Not them. They’re nice to me, I swear. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”

“Hey,” Mattheo said firmly, reaching to cup your cheek. He wiped the tears from under your eyes with his thumb, his brows furrowed. “Why are you apologizing?”

You blinked, confused. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted softly.

But you *did* know.

You always had to.

You’d been trained to say sorry before anything else. For breathing. For crying. For being in pain.

Mattheo stared at you, eyes flickering with something dark and unreadable. Then he asked again—more serious this time.

“Tell me who.”

You hesitated.

You looked at him, really looked—and saw that he meant it. He *wanted* to know. Not for power. Not for control. For *you.*

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking.

“He… he used to bring them home,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Mattheo’s jaw tensed. “Who did?”

You looked down, shame washing over you like a flood. “My father,” you said finally. “He… he used to bring random men home. I don’t know who they were. He’d just say I had to serve them. When they played… and drank…”

You couldn’t say the rest—not yet. Not out loud.

But your silence spoke louder than any word.

Mattheo didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

The air between you was heavy, thick with pain and something far more dangerous simmering under his skin.

But all he did was reach forward and hold your hand.

And you gripped his like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.

You sat there, your fingers clutched in his, your breath trembling in your chest like it had to ask permission to leave.

It wasn’t supposed to come out.

You were never supposed to say it.

But something about the quiet in Mattheo’s eyes, the way his hand didn’t flinch when you told him that piece of your truth—it pulled more out of you. Like the dam had finally cracked, and everything you buried so deep started to rise.

“I used to pretend it wasn’t happening,” you whispered, staring at the edge of the blanket, your voice shaking. “Like… if I stayed quiet enough, invisible enough, maybe they’d forget I was there. Sometimes they did. But most of the time…”

You swallowed, tears burning again.

“They didn’t.”

Mattheo’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly. Not harsh. Steady. Grounding.

You couldn’t look at him. You were afraid of what you’d see. Pity. Disgust. Horror.

But he stayed still.

“My stepmother knew,” you went on, your voice now hoarse. “She used to say I was asking for it. That I was cursed. That I ruined everything, just like my mother.”

You looked up slowly, meeting his eyes for a second. They were darker than you’d ever seen them.

“She broke my wand,” you said, your voice shaking harder now. “She said magic didn’t belong to whores. Said if I ever told anyone about what happened, they’d lock me up or kill me for lying.”

You blinked as more tears slipped free. “So I stopped telling. I stopped talking at all. I just learned how to disappear. How to take care of myself. How to serve their drinks without spilling.”

You looked down at your hands. “Sometimes I wonder if that version of me is still stuck there. In that house. That little girl who couldn’t breathe when the door locked. Who screamed for help and no one came.”

You looked at him again.

“I wasn’t scared of the dark,” you whispered. “I was scared of what came with it.”

Mattheo said nothing at first. But his hand was still wrapped around yours.

“Do you remember any of their faces?”

You shook your head. “They were always different. Always drunk. Sometimes… laughing. I was just something they passed on the way.”

His jaw was clenched, and you could see how hard he was gripping himself, not to break something, not to *snap.*

He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at you again—closer this time, more certain.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he said lowly. “You hear me?”

You nodded, slowly, still crying. Not because you didn’t believe him—because a part of you finally did.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, almost without realizing it.

Mattheo leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours like steel. “Stop saying that,” he said gently, but firm. “You did nothing wrong.”

You nodded again.

Then you whispered, “Can you stay a little longer?”

He nodded, shifted up the bed, pulling you gently to rest your head on his chest.

And you stayed like that.

His heartbeat under your cheek was steady—but your own was uneven, cracked like the voice that slipped past your lips.

You didn’t know why it kept coming. Maybe because no one ever let you speak. Maybe because you were still trying to believe it happened—that it was over. Maybe because he was here, and something about Mattheo Riddle just made you feel like if you didn't say it now, you'd never be able to.

Your voice was fragile when you started again.

"One day… one of them asked my dad if he could—" You paused. The words stuck like thorns in your throat. "If he could *take* me. Like I was some fucking—" you swallowed. “Like I was something to trade.”

Mattheo didn’t move, but you could feel the storm brewing in his stillness.

“He was around forty. I don’t know. He had this… sick, twisted virgin kink. I’d never even held a boy’s hand, and he—he looked at me like I was meat. My dad agreed. Said I would finally be of some good use.”

You laughed under your breath, but it wasn’t a happy sound—it was the broken laughter of someone who’s been bleeding too long. “Finally. A good use.”

“I heard them. Talking. Laughing. Like it was nothing.” You gripped his shirt tighter. “I tried to run. Packed whatever I could—barely anything. But my dad found out. Threw me in the basement again. The same way he always did to punish me.”

“I thought… I thought he’d just keep me there until the man left. But he didn’t.”

Your breathing trembled harder.

“That night… he brought him down there. The man. I could hear his voice getting closer. He was *drunk*. Laughing. Saying I’d thank him later.”

You looked at Mattheo’s chest, your voice barely a whisper.

“I pushed him. Screamed. Bit him. I think I even broke his nose. I kicked, and I ran. Barefoot. I don’t know how I made it out, but I ran. And that bastard followed me out screaming at my dad because for him he ‘ didn’t pay money for that’. They were both drunk, both yelling—about money, about me. And then…”

You paused.

Your voice was flat when it returned.

“He killed my dad.”

Mattheo didn’t ask how.

You didn’t say how.

There was blood. There was a fight. There was something heavy in the man’s hand, and a bottle smashed on the ground, and a silence that followed that felt bigger than any scream.

You didn’t go back. You never looked back.

“And everyone just blamed it on the drink,” you whispered. “Just another dead drunk in a bad part of town.”

Mattheo finally moved, slowly. One hand on the back of your head, his breath heavy against your hair.

You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t need to.

Because he was still there.

Still holding you like you weren’t broken glass.

His thumb brushed under your eye, catching another tear before it could fall. His touch was unexpectedly gentle—so soft it made your chest ache even more.

You sniffled. “Then my stepmom… she was getting married again. She said she couldn’t have a whore around her new husband. She kicked me out like I was trash.”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened with something dangerous.

He cupped your face with both hands—slow but firm, grounding you.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

You shook your head weakly, your gaze glued to your lap. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to see whatever pity or disgust might be sitting in his expression.

“I said—” His voice dropped an octave. Low. Demanding. “Look at me.”

And you did. Slowly. Hesitantly. Your eyes met his—and there was no pity there. Only fire. Rage. And something else… something heavy, something that felt a lot like a promise.

“No one,” he said, enunciating each word like it was carved in steel, “will _ ever_ touch you without your permission again. Do you hear me?”

You blinked. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill.

“I said do you hear me?”

You nodded fast. “Y-Yeah. I hear you.”

His grip on your face softened as he tilted your head slightly up. He scanned every inch of your face like he was memorizing it, like he was making some kind of vow to himself. His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone again, slower this time.

“You’re safe here now, you’re under my roof. No one breathes near you.”

You nodded .

You stayed quiet trying to process this all.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, not really. But something in you—some part so exhausted, so shattered—finally let go.

Your head dropped gently against his chest, and your fingers curled into the hem of his shirt. He didn’t move. He just sat there with you in his arms, holding you like he’d kill anything that came close.

Tag list:

@esmerai-artemis

@pluto-9456

@dracoslovergirl

@hereticdance

@weirdowithnobeardo

@ribyourtoplip

[sadnymi]

Dark haven

singledad mattheo riddle x reader

Chapter four >> chapter five

The guards looked at you like you were a damn criminal. One even subtly reached toward the wand on his hip when you passed, like you were going to stab someone with a spoon or smother Kai with a pillow. You had tried to tell them you were the nanny now, but judging by their silence and stony glares, they don’t really care.

You sat stiffly on one of the sleek black chairs in the marble-floored hallway, watching the enormous front doors like they might swing open at any moment. Time passed. The lights dimmed. The silence thickened.

Eventually, your body gave in. Your head drooped against the high-backed chair, knees pulled to your chest for warmth, arms wrapped tightly around them. You didn’t mean to fall asleep. You just… waited. Until sleep took you like a thief.

A noise woke you.

A soft creak—leather shoes against polished floors. Your eyes snapped open, blurry and stinging. You sat up fast, spine aching, blinking rapidly as you saw him—Mattheo—moving up the stairs with his back to you.

Your voice broke the silence. “Mattheo!”

It was probably stupid. Your back throbbed, your neck stiff, your face still puffy from sleep. But after everything that happened that day, after everything you heard from Kai… the idea of missing him now, missing your chance, felt unbearable.

Mattheo stopped mid-step, head turning slightly.

He looked down at you, one brow raised, tired and dark and cold.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped. “Why are you—”

“I was waiting for you,” you said, cutting him off.

Your eyes had adjusted now. You could see more clearly—and what you saw made your breath catch.

His hands… were covered in blood. Smears along his knuckles. Dried red flaked under his nails. There was blood on the collar of his shirt, his neck, even a streak across his jaw like war paint. And still, his expression didn’t falter—calm, detached, dangerous.

You stood up fast, legs shaky but steadying. “Are you—are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. Just gave you that warning glare. “Mind your business.”

You exhaled. “If Kai saw you like this,” you said softly, “it *is* my business.”

He turned sharply at that, eyes cold.

“My job,” you added, straightening your spine.

He blinked, paused, then scoffed like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You took a slow step toward him. “Let me help you.”

He didn’t move as you passed him. Didn’t stop you as you quietly walked into the bathroom and gathered what you needed—a damp cloth, gauze, ointment, peroxide. The whole time, he stood near the window, back to you, silent.

You came back and gently touched his wrist. “Sit.”

He dropped into the chair he didn’t meet your eyes, but didn’t stop you either.

As you started to clean the blood from his hands, he muttered, “Why were you sleeping out there?”

“I was waiting to talk to you,” you said. “Something important. About Kai.”

Still silence. So you kept working, voice low, gentle.

“He thinks you don’t love him anymore. That you’re mad at him. Because he was upset when he woke up and I wasn’t there. Because you didn’t come to dinner. Because you didn’t read him a story. He thinks it’s punishment.”

You glanced up. His jaw was clenched, hard as stone.

You swallowed. “He worships you. Talks about you like you hang the stars. You leaving the dinner table feels like the end of the world to him.”

Mattheo stayed silent.

You gently turned his palm upward. His knuckles were bruised. Split. You pressed the gauze softly. “Your hands,” you whispered. “You can’t let him see them like this. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, but you need to *think* before you walk through that door covered in someone else’s blood.”

His head tilted, suspicious now. “How the hell do you know all this?”

You smiled grimly. “Because when you grow up with a drunk father who comes home at two in the morning covered in blood, muttering about debts and threats—and still has enough energy left to beat the hell out of you—then makes you help him clean up before school... You learn.”

Mattheo stared at you.

No witty comment. No insult.

Just silence.

You looked down at his hands again, dabbing the final streak of red away. “I know what it looks like. I know what it smells like. I know what it *feels* like.”

You folded the gauze.

Mattheo didn’t speak.

But he let you keep his hand in yours.

You didn’t blink.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you added softly. “I’m not telling you for pity. I’m telling you so you understand I get it. I know what blood means. I know what silence means. And I know what it does to a kid to think they’ve lost their father.”

The air between you and Mattheo was heavy. He didn’t say a word, but you saw the tension ease slightly from his shoulders—only slightly.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and setting down the now-bloodied cloth. “I should get to sleep.”

He didn’t stop you. He just watched as you quietly left the room, the echo of your words still hovering between you both like a ghost.

---

**The next morning**

You sat up slowly in bed, sunlight crawling through the curtains and dancing across the floor. The silence was too thick, and for a moment, you were unsure what the hell you were even supposed to *do*. Was there a schedule? Did Kai have lessons? Meals? Rules? You weren’t even sure where breakfast happened in a house like this.

So you got dressed quietly and headed downstairs, bare feet soft against the floors. You followed the sound of laughter and clinking silverware until you stopped in the doorway of what looked like a small breakfast salon.

Kai and Mattheo were already there.

“Kai,” you greeted instinctively.

He turned, lit up, and grinned wide. “You’re awake!” he called happily. “Come on! We’re having breakfast in the garden today!”

Your heart softened. “Are we now?” you smiled gently, still unsure if you were allowed to even *move* without some secret permission. You offered a quick “Good morning” to Mattheo, who looked up at you briefly—silent.

Kai wriggled off his chair and grabbed a half-eaten croissant. “I’ll wait outside!” he called as he ran for the garden doors.

You watched him go, then turned—only to find Mattheo now standing, walking toward you slowly.

“I was wondering,” you said carefully, “is there a schedule or something I should follow with Kai? Like…meals, naps… rules?”

Mattheo folded his arms across his chest. “Whatever makes him happy.”

You nodded, a little relieved.

“But yeah,” he added, “you can make a schedule for him. He needs some structure.”

You nodded again. “Alright, I’ll work on that.”

Then he glanced down. “Where’s your wand?”

You paused. “Oh, It’s broken.”

You didn’t tell him that your stepmother snapped it in half right in front of you. That you were fourteen. That it was the same day she told you if you ever tried to “play the freak card” again, she’d make sure you never saw magic again.

“You didn’t go to Hogwarts?” he asked, tone skeptical.

“No,” you said quietly. “My dad refused. He said I didn’t need that kind of education. I went to *Avemore Institute for Practical Magic* instead. Small place. Hidden. They don’t get visitors.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded once. “You go tonight with one of the guards. You’re getting a new wand. You can’t be with my son without one.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

Then his tone shifted. Sharper. “I need more information about your family.”

“There’s nothing to know.” You kept your voice level. “My father is dead. My mother died years before that.”

“There must be someone left.”

“Just my stepmother,” you said flatly. “Her name is Ellia Braysin. But there’s nothing to know about her. She’s not part of my life anymore.”

Mattheo studied you for a long second, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling you open in his mind.

“I’ll look into her.”

You gave a small, sarcastic smile. “I’m sure you will.”

He didn’t answer that—just turned his head toward the window, where Kai was twirling around under the sunlight in the garden like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, walking past you. “He’s waiting.”

You followed, heart thudding.

You were still unsure of everything in this house. Still haunted by blood and silence and the sharp edges of your past.

But there was one thing—one person—you were sure of.

Kai.

And for now, he was the only reason you stayed.

Tag list :

@esmerai-artemis

@pluto-9456

@dracoslovergirl

@hereticdance

[sadnymi]

Dark haven

singledad mattheo riddle x reader

chapter three >> Chapter four

Mattheo gripped the wheel like it had insulted him personally, eyes locked on the road, jaw clenched tight as he drove.

You sat in silence, your arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line—until your heart suddenly dropped.

“Oh my god—my bag!” you gasped, twisting in your seat. “Where is it?”

Mattheo didn’t even glance at you. “What do you even want from that _trash_?”

The word hit like a slap.

You turned your head slowly, staring at him. “Trash?”

He finally glanced at you, clearly annoyed. “Yes. It looked like it belonged in a damn bin.”

Your jaw clenched. “That ‘trash’ had the _only photo I have left_ of me and my best friend before he died.”

Your fists tightened, nails digging into your palms, rage rising in your throat like bile.

“You know what?” you snapped. “I’ve got _some fucking rules_, too.”

Mattheo arched a brow, but you didn’t wait for a reaction.

“Rule one—don’t talk down to me like I’m some idiot who doesn’t deserve to breathe your air.”

“Rule two—if you don’t know what someone’s been through, _shut up_.”

“Rule three—if I tell you something matters to me, _respect_ it. That’s basic fucking decency, even for you.”

The car went quiet except for the hum of the tires on the road.

You stared out the window, blinking back furious tears, your heart pounding. You didn’t know if he’d say anything. You didn’t care. Let him stew in that.

Then… the car slowed.

The second you stepped out of the car, the difference hit you like a wave.

There were guards.

Not one or two casually stationed by the gate like rich people usually had—but everywhere. At the front entrance, lining the pathway, standing silently in black like statues with wands at the ready. Their eyes tracked you as you walked beside Mattheo, your arms crossed tightly, doing everything in your power not to look intimidated.

“Is this a house or Azkaban?” you muttered under your breath.

Mattheo didn’t reply. Of course not.

The front doors creaked open on their own—because apparently _that’s_ a thing—and the moment you stepped into the marble hallway, your boots echoing, you felt it.

This place wasn’t just rich.

It was _power_.

Ancient portraits lined the walls. Heavy chandeliers hung above black and green marble floors. Every corridor seemed endless. But your heart was focused on only one thing.

Kai.

You followed Mattheo up the wide stairs in silence, pausing in front of a tall, wooden door with little golden stars carved into the frame. He knocked.

You followed Mattheo up the grand staircase and down the hall toward Kai’s room. Your chest tightened with every step.

He stopped outside the dark wooden door and raised his hand to knock.

A second later—

“GO AWAY! I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!”

Kai’s voice. Angry. Broken.

Your heart cracked.

Mattheo muttered, “Charming,” and opened the door anyway.

The little boy was on the bed, buried under a mountain of blankets. You stepped into the room slowly, silently, and the moment Kai’s eyes peeked out and saw _you_—

“Y/N!!!” he screamed like he hadn’t smiled in a hundred years. He threw the blankets off and practically flew across the room, launching himself into your arms with a force that knocked the wind out of you.

“Kai—!” You staggered back, laughing through the tears that instantly gathered in your eyes. “Hey, hey, slow down—”

“You CAME BACK! I thought you left! You _lied_!”

“I didn’t lie,” you whispered, arms wrapping tightly around him. “I said I’d stay, didn’t I?”

“You _weren’t_ here when I woke up!” he said accusingly. “You BROKE THE PINKY PROMISE!”

“I know, I know—I’m so sorry, Kai. I had to go for a little bit. But look—I’m here now, aren’t I?” You pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “I would never leave you for good.”

“I told everyone to go away,” he added proudly. “I said if they touch my stuff, I’ll throw them out the window.”

You blinked. “I—I feel both proud and… slightly concerned.”

“I said I only want _you and daddy say you look like a stary cat I told him he’s mean"

Oh wow of course your psychotic dad said that.

“Did you eat anything today?” you asked softly, stroking his curls.

“No. They tried but I said ‘if you don’t bring me y/n I’ll stop eating forever and turn into a skeleton.’” He showed you his tiny arms. “See? Already happening.”

“Oh no,” you gasped.

“Exactly! Now you have to stay forever to make me healthy.”

You smiled. “I can do that.”

Kai leaned in closer, arms hugging your neck again, whispering, “I really missed you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Your heart shattered in slow motion.

Mattheo rolled his eyes then said, “You need to take a shower.”

You blinked at him, still sitting on the rug with Kai clinging to you like a koala you didn’t notice the dirt from when you were playing with the fox or the cut on your hoodie.

He raised an eyebrow. “And then see the rest of the house. You should know where you’re living if you're staying here.”

You nodded slowly, brushing Kai’s hair off his forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

Kai gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But come back fast.”

You followed Mattheo out, adjusting your oversized hoodie and running a hand through your messy hair. The door clicked behind you as he began walking down the hall.

At first, you didn’t say much. You just walked beside him as he led you down elegant corridors lined with portraits—some sleeping, some judging. The deeper you went, the bigger everything became. Two-story libraries. A ballroom with crystal chandeliers. A dueling hall with charmed weapon racks. Even the *bloody kitchen* looked like it belonged in a palace.

You slowed. Stopped.

Your heart picked up.

What the hell kind of house was this?

No. Not a house.

A *fortress*.

You turned to him slowly. “Okay. No. No. What is this? Who *are* you?”

He didn’t stop walking.

You blinked again. “Mattheo. *Who are you*?”

He finally turned his head and gave you a very neutral look. “You don’t know?”

You stared at him. “Would I be *asking* if I knew?!”

His lips twitched like he was trying not to smirk. “Mattheo Riddle.”

That name.

You laughed. It wasn’t a real laugh. It was a broken, slightly hysterical, *you’ve got to be kidding me* kind of laugh. “Riddle. As in—Riddle? As in *the* Riddle?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God.” You took a step back. “*Oh my actual God.*”

“Here we go,” he said, too casually.

“You’re—you’re *him*. The kid from the stories. Voldemort’s kid—are you serious? You're *that* Mattheo Riddle?!”

He gave a lazy shrug.

You put both hands on your head and turned in a circle. “And you forgot to *tell me that?!*”

He narrowed his eyes. “I assumed you knew. Everyone knows.”

“Well guess what!” you snapped. “I didn’t go to *Hogwarts*! I went to Calethorn Institute. It’s small. In the countryside. I didn’t know what you looked like—I didn’t—oh my God.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So?!” You gaped at him. “You kidnapped me into your *Death Eater mansion fortress palace* and forgot to tell me you’re magical royalty with *guards* and *portrait surveillance* and God knows what else!”

He crossed his arms. “You weren’t exactly upfront about your life either.”

“That’s because I don’t *have* one! You dragged me here and offered me a job like some sort of brooding mafia wizard and now I’m supposed to just *wash up* like nothing happened?!”

He took a step toward you, voice cool. “You’re the one who said yes.”

“I’m the one who said yes because of *Kai!*” You threw your hands up. “You’re unhinged. I’m leaving.”

You turned on your heel, rage buzzing through your blood, heading straight back to the entrance hall—

But then you paused.

Your hand stopped just inches from the handle.

Kai.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You could still feel his little fingers around your neck. Still hear him saying, *“I cried a lot.”*

You exhaled a shaky breath.

And turned away from the door.

You couldn’t leave.

Not yet. Not while he needed you.

He leaned against the wall near the stairwell watched the entire thing in silence—arms crossed. But he didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

He knew exactly why you stayed.

And it had nothing to do with him.

You turned to him, jaw clenched. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m only staying for _Kai_.”

He stared you down. “You don’t need to keep saying it. I got the message the first ten times.”

“Good,” you snapped. “Because if it weren’t for him—”

“I _know_,” he cut you off sharply, pushing off the wall. “Come. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

You followed him down another long hallway—this one quieter, lined with floor-length enchanted windows that reflected moonlight despite the hour. When he stopped, he waved his hand lazily and a door opened to your left.

You stepped inside.

And for a moment, everything in your mind went quiet.

It was… stunning.

Soft golden lights glowed from sconces on the walls. The bed was massive, with deep emerald sheets and embroidered pillows. There was a fireplace, a sitting area with velvet armchairs, a walk-in wardrobe—and inside that wardrobe? Clothes. Beautiful clothes. Casual ones. Warm ones. Even ones you’d never buy for yourself but secretly always wished for.

A small reading nook by a massive arched window overlooked the forest behind the manor.

You turned to him, stunned. “This—how did—”

“I don’t like loose ends,” he muttered. “You’re staying, you need clothes.”

Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

you sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over the velvet. your chest squeezed.

**What the hell am I doing here?**

**What am I supposed to do in this house?**

There was only one answer.

_Kai._

After a hot shower, you slipped into a pair of soft cotton pajamas and padded down the hall toward Kai’s room. your hair was still damp, and her feet bare against the polished floors.

When you opened the door, Kai was already building some kind of castle with magnetic blocks.

“Y/N!” he squealed and ran to her, hugging your waist.

You grinned, ruffling his hair. “What are you making?”

“A dragon castle,” he said proudly. “The dragon’s inside. Wanna help?”

“Obviously,” you smiled and dropped beside him.

For the next hour, you played. He made you name all the dragons, give them silly voices, and then had them fight over who got to guard the golden treasure (which was actually a spoon he stole from the kitchen). you laughed until he got sleepy again, rubbing his eyes.

“Can you read me a story?” he mumbled, climbing into bed.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the nearest book.

“Daddy usually reads to me,” he whispered, his voice smaller now. “He makes the voices. He always does the dragon ones best.”

You stilled slightly, then looked at him. “He does?”

Kai nodded. “He makes the dragon sound all scary. Then the prince wins. But I think he doesn’t love me anymore.”

You heart froze. “Kai… why would you think that?”

“Because of what I did last night. Because I was mean to him. When I woke up and you weren’t here, I got mad. I yelled. He didn’t come to dinner. He’s not coming tonight either. He always reads to me. I _hate_ when he goes and doesn’t tell me stories.”

You blinked at him, shocked. Not just because of what he said, but how _deeply_ he said it. The pain. The fear. The confusion.

He wasn’t just some spoiled rich kid. He was a little boy who thought he’d broken something that could never be fixed.

You gathered him into her arms, smoothing back his curls.

“Kai,” You whispered, “your dad loves you so, so much. Nothing you do could make him stop. Ever.”

“But… how do you know?”

you swallowed.

**Because I know what it looks like when a dad doesn’t love their kid.**

But you didn’t say it.

Instead, you just kissed the top of his head and said, “Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

That seemed to be enough. He smiled sleepily. “Will you still read the dragon book?”

You nodded, smiling too. “You bet I will. But I’m not promising good dragon voices.”

He giggled and cuddled into your side.

you read the whole thing, and by the end, he was fast asleep—his head tucked beneath your arm, a tiny smile on his lips.

You carefully tucked the blanket around him and got up.

You should go to your room. You should let the day end and process it all. That was the right thing.

But you couldn’t.

You sat in the couch instead, near the staircase.

Waiting.

You needed to talk to Mattheo. Needed to tell him what Kai said.

But as you sat, the silence stretched.

And your mind began to spiral.

Your father’s voice echoed in your head again, uninvited.

_“You ruin everything. I wish you were never born.”_

You curled her knees to your chest and closed your eyes tight.

_You’re not there anymore. You’re not there anymore._

But the words still hurt.

Still branded.

Still left you wondering how he could have it in himself to tell you to your face that you didn’t deserve love at all, you were only seven.

You wiped a tear away and waited for the front door to open.

You had to talk to Mattheo.

Even if he didn’t want to hear it.

Tag list :

@esmerai-artemis

@pluto-9456

@dracoslovergirl

[sadnymi]

Dark haven

singledad! mattheoriddle x reader

Chapter three

Warnings: sexual harassment

You ended up at a bus stop bench near the outskirts of some unfamiliar part of town—your steps had wandered too far, the only light was a flickering lamppost buzzing like it might give out any second.

You sat.

Then slowly, like the air had been knocked out of you, you bent forward and dropped your head between your knees. The ache in your chest was unbearable now—swollen and raw. You couldn’t breathe through it. You couldn’t move past it.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, curling into yourself on the bench as your shoulders shook.

Everything felt so loud—the wind, the thoughts, the crushing panic in your chest. _What now? Where do I go? What happens when the sun rises and I’m still here with no money, no home, no one?What if something bad happens to me tonight? What if no one finds me?

You looked around. Empty streets. No shops open. No one walking by. Just you. Just fear.

The panic set in quick.

Your breaths shortened.

You tried to stand up and couldn’t.

Your hands were shaking violently now, fingers twitching. You gripped the edge of the bench like it might stop the world from spinning and swallowed the nausea clawing its way up your throat.

Your arms wrapped around your chest, and you curled onto your side on the cold bench, trying to make yourself smaller, invisible, _gone_. The thin fabric of your hoodie did nothing against the breeze cutting through the night.

And somewhere between the sobbing and the silent screaming inside your head… your body gave up.

You stared at the empty streetlight, and everything blurred again.

Your tears soaked the fabric beneath your cheek.

And eventually, sleep pulled you under—not because you were safe, not because you felt better.

But because your body just couldn’t take it anymore.

And the bench—cold, hard, and silent—was the only place in the world you had left to collapse.

You woke up to the sound of birds.

It took a moment to realize your body had gone numb—your limbs stiff and sore from curling up on the metal bench all night. The sun was peeking over the edge of the horizon, casting long shadows on the pavement, and your face was damp with dried tears.

You sat up slowly, confused, disoriented, and cold.

Your bag was still next to you—thank God—and you clutched it tight to your chest, blinking rapidly to clear your vision. For a moment, you just sat there, staring down the street as if the world might offer a clue.

But it didn’t.

There was no destination. No plan.

Just another day of walking.

So you did.

For hours, your feet carried you aimlessly. Through alleys, across streets, past strangers who didn’t even glance your way. You chewed on a stale granola bar you found buried in your bag and sipped the last of the water you’d saved in a crumpled bottle. At one point, you found a patch of grass behind a rundown café and dropped to your knees with a sigh.

That’s when you saw him.

A little fox.

Small, delicate, clearly too young to be alone, with soft reddish fur and bright eyes. You blinked at him, stunned.

“Well, hello there,” you whispered.

He sniffed at the air and tilted his head, not afraid of you. So you knelt in the dirt, reaching your hand out slowly. He sniffed your fingers, then darted back, skittish but curious. A tiny smile tugged at your lips for the first time in hours.

"You're lost too, huh?" you murmured. “Guess we both need a map."

You knelt there, playing with him softly, until—

**"Well, aren’t you just a little gift from heaven."**

The voice behind you turned your blood to ice.

You flinched hard and spun around.

A man stood there. Tall, greasy hair, yellow-stained teeth when he smiled. His clothes smelled like sweat and smoke.

"Didn’t think I'd find such a sweet little thing out here all by herself." His eyes roamed your body, slow and revolting. “You lost, love? Need some… company?”

Your heart pounded as you backed away, clutching your bag like a shield.

"leave me alone."

But he didn’t.

He grabbed your arm before you could move, and in one swift motion, shoved you back against a brick wall so hard your breath knocked out of you. His hand pinned your wrists above your head, and his thigh wedged between your legs, pressing you there. You screamed and kicked, struggling against his weight, but he was too strong.

"Don’t fight it, sweetheart," he hissed. “You’re too pretty to be out here alone. You know what happens to pretty girls out here?”

You whimpered, twisting your face away. His breath was foul, and his grip like iron.

And then—

**He was gone.**

Ripped away from you so fast it took your brain a second to catch up.

You gasped and stumbled forward as the man was thrown to the ground, and when you looked up—

**Mattheo.**

Even with tears stinging your vision, you knew that face. Those eyes. That rage.

He was calm. That terrifying kind of calm.

And the man on the ground, Screaming now.

Mattheo didn’t say a word as he crouched down, cracked his knuckles, and began.

The man begged.

Mattheo didn’t care.

He hit him. Again. And again. Bones cracked. Blood spilled.

“Mattheo—” you whispered, voice shaking.

But he didn’t stop until the man stopped moving.

Until the alley was silent again.

You stood there frozen, shaking, heart thundering against your ribs.

Mattheo turned to you slowly, his hand slick with blood, and reached for you.

You screamed.

“**Don’t touch me!**”

“Y/N—”

“You _killed him_,” you choked, backing away. “You’re _insane_! You fucking _killed_ a man—”

“A man who _deserved it_,” he said sharply. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, heart still hammering.

Then he stepped forward and _grabbed your hand_.

“Let go of me!”

“We need to talk—”

“I _don’t_ want to talk to a murderer!”

“Stop _screaming_—”

“I’LL STOP SCREAMING WHEN YOU LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!”

He let out a breath like you were the one being dramatic. “Y/N. Get in the car.”

“No!”

“Don’t make me carry you to it.”

You blinked. “_What the fuck is wrong with you?_”

He rolled his eyes. “Can you _stop screaming_ every five seconds?”

“Oh, I’m _sorry_, I didn’t realize I was _inconveniencing_ you watching a man get _murdered_, all before fucking lunch—”

“It’s 3 PM.”

“_SHUT UP._”

He stared at you. You glared at him.

“I hate you,” you hissed.

“That’s mutual.”

“Then why are you even here?!”

“Because I was _looking for you_! What the fuck do you think I was doing—shopping for new robes?!”

You blinked. “Looking for me? Why?”

He stared at you.

Then sighed.

“Because,” he muttered, “I promised Kai.”

You felt the breath knock out of you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, right. So i can _manipulate_ him again,”

“I’m not going to apologize for yesterday.”

“Oh wow, no _shock_, _Sherlock_,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t expect a spoiled arrogant psychopath to _know how_ to apologize.”

You were both breathing heavily now. Face to face. Eyes locked.

The car came to a sudden stop, jerking her forward against the seatbelt.

“**What the hell—**” she snapped, glaring at him as Mattheo turned to face her.

His jaw clenched, eyes burning with a mix of frustration and something deeper—something unreadable.

“I don’t trust you,” he said flatly. “And I’m not going to.”

She stared, stunned at the bluntness.

“But right now,” he continued, “you’re coming with me. You’re going to see Kai. End of story.”

“You are _so fucking rude_,” you spat, twisting your body to face him fully. “Do you even know how to talk like a normal human or were you born this much of an _asshole_?”

He leaned closer. “You have no place to stay. Nothing, as you said. So unless you’re planning to let another creep attacking you while you talk to foxes in alleyways, you’re going to shut up and listen to what I’m offering you.”

“Oh _Merlin,_” you groaned, covering your face. “Can you just _shut up_ for one second—”

“I’m offering you a job,” he snapped.

Your hands dropped. “A _what_?”

“A job,” he repeated, eyes rolling like it was obvious. “As Kai’s nanny.”

You blinked. Laughed once. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You never look like anything other than a psychopath—”

“I’m _serious_, Y/N.”

“And I’m _delirious,_ clearly,” you muttered.

He exhaled harshly, gripping the steering wheel before releasing it again. “Kai hates nannies. They don’t last a week. But for some godforsaken reason, he likes _you_. Actually—he won’t _shut up_ about you. He’s throwing a tantrum. Screaming. Crying. I’ve tried everything.”

She stayed silent.

“He keeps asking for you,” Mattheo added, “Only you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I…” you hesitated, “I’m not sure.”

Mattheo raised a brow. “I’ll pay you fifteen thousand galleons a month.”

“_What?!_” You nearly choked.

He leaned back. “You’ll get your own room in the manor. I’ll put a fucking lock on the door if that makes you feel better. It’s a job. You’ll eat, sleep, and get paid to do what you were already doing: keeping that boy from melting into a puddle of tears every five minutes.”

You stared at him.

“It just feels…” your voice was quieter now, “weird. Taking money to be with him. To… care for him. Like it’s a transaction.”

Mattheo’s expression darkened. “You’re _homeless._ What other choices do you _have_?”

“Can you _not_ remind me every five seconds—�� you snapped. “I don’t _need_ money to care about him. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking—what if he woke up and thought I broke my promise? What if he thought I _left_ him on purpose?”

Mattheo’s brows pulled together.

“You only met him _yesterday_,” he said, suspicion creeping back into his tone.

“I know!” you blurted, frustrated with yourself more than him. “I _know_, alright?! I don’t _understand_ it either—I just…”

Your voice dropped, eyes glossy now. “I just _care_. And I didn’t want to leave him like that. I didn’t _mean_ to.

He looked at you like he was trying to solve an impossible equation. Like every word you’d just said made no sense to him. Because it didn’t. Not to someone like him.

But it wasn’t a lie.

You cared.

Mattheo’s eyes locked on yours, unmoving, like a wall you weren’t meant to climb.

“I need an answer,” he said, voice sharp and clipped. “Now.”

Your chest tightened. The image of Kai crying—curled into himself, red-faced and trembling—flashed behind your eyes like a curse. And just like that, nothing else mattered. Not the fear, not the money, not Mattheo’s cruelty or his mansion or even your damn pride.

Only Kai.

You nodded once. “Yes.”

His jaw twitched. “You’re sure?”

“I said yes,” you snapped. “Because if he’s crying right now thinking I left him, I swear to Merlin I could burn the whole fucking world.”

Mattheo scoffed. “Perfect. A dramatic nanny. Just what I need.”

You clenched your fists but bit your tongue.

He sat back in the seat, fingers tapping once against the wheel before he turned to you again, hard and cold.

“There are _rules,_” he said, voice low.

You swallowed. “Okay.”

“Number one—when I say something, you do it. Immediately. No arguing. No questioning—you just _do it_.”

Your stomach twisted, but you nodded.

“Number two—you don’t bring strangers to the manor. I don’t care if it’s your long-lost uncle or Merlin himself, no one gets through those gates unless _I_ say so.”

“Fine.”

“Number three—never—and I mean _never_—ask Kai about his mother.”

That made your breath catch.

Mattheo’s tone had changed—just slightly. Colder. Sharper. Like there was something razor-edged beneath the words, too dangerous to touch.

You blinked. “I wouldn’t—”

“I’m _serious_,” he added. “Don’t _mention_ her. Don’t _hint_ at her. Don’t even say the word ‘mom’ around him unless _he_brings it up. Understood?”

“…Yes,” you said quietly, heart pounding.

He turned forward again, threw the car into gear. “Good.”

But the word hung in the air like a loaded gun.

And somehow, you knew—_this_ wasn’t just a job.

This was stepping into the middle of something much, much deeper.

Tag list

@esmerai-artemis

@pluto-9456

[sadnymi]

Dark Haven

Single dad!Mattheo riddle x reader

Chapter 2

From the second the car passed the gates, you knew.

This wasn’t just wealth.

This was _old magic_ money. Power soaked into the very soil.

The wrought-iron gates whispered open like they recognized the vehicle, and the driveway twisted through thick, enchanted trees, silver leaves glittering in the moonlight. The mansion rose in the distance like something out of a forgotten storybook—massive, dark stone, turrets stabbing at the sky, ivy curling around ancient walls like veins.

It wasn’t a house.

It was a _fortress_.

A palace.

Gods, you’d never even been inside something like this.

The car slowed and stopped before marble steps that gleamed even in the moonlight. Dozens of warm, golden windows flickered above, like stars.

Kai was already half-asleep in your arms, his small fingers still clutching your shirt like he might disappear if he let go.

You slid out carefully, your arms cradling him, and followed Mattheo silently up the steps. Theo walked beside you with your bag still slung over his shoulder, casting cautious glances toward Mattheo’s back.

The door opened to an entryway that looked like it belonged in a pureblood museum—vaulted ceilings, floating lanterns, a floor of polished obsidian that reflected the chandelier’s glow like liquid ink. Dark green tapestries with silver embroidery hung between towering black stone columns.

But you barely noticed any of it.

Because your entire focus was on the sleeping boy in your arms.

Mattheo led you up a curved staircase and into what must’ve been Kai’s bedroom—a wide, warm space lit by a soft enchanted lamp. A canopy bed stood in the center, green and silver bedding rumpled from where he must’ve tossed and turned before sneaking out.

You tried to ease Kai down gently, but his arms tightened around your neck with a soft whimper.

“No,” he mumbled, voice cracking with sleep. “Don’t go…”

You glanced helplessly at Mattheo, then back down at Kai, your heart tugging in all directions.

So you sat beside him.

Kai immediately curled into your side, head tucked against your chest, small legs curled under the covers.

Mattheo watched—his expression unreadable, but something in his eyes looked like it physically hurt to see.

Theo stood in the doorway, blinking like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

You ran your fingers through Kai’s curls as he spoke softly to you.

“Can you stay forever?” he asked quietly.

You smiled, even though your chest ached. “I’ll stay as long as you want me, okay?”

Once his breathing slowed and his fingers loosened, you slid your arm free carefully and stood.

Only to step right into a wall of heat and muscle.

Mattheo.

He grabbed your arm before you could even speak, pulled you out of the room and closed the door.

You gasped.

His hand was firm—too firm—and your instinct kicked in immediately, trying to twist away.

Theo’s voice shot from behind you like a blade. “Mattheo.”

Mattheo didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“What the fuck did you say to him to make him cling to you like that?” he hissed.

You stared, stunned. “I didn’t _say_ anything—!”

He leaned closer, eyes flashing. “Do you even know who I am?”

Your stomach twisted. “You’re hurting me—”

“I _don’t care_,” he said. “You walk into my son’s life, and suddenly he wants _you_ to be his mum? Who sent you?”

You froze. “What?”

He stepped closer. “Who. Sent. You?”

You yanked your arm, voice shaking. “_No one_ sent me! I found him crying in a park at 2am and I—”

Mattheo’s grip tightened.

Then Theo was there, hand on Mattheo’s wrist, prying him off you.

“_Fucking hell_, Mattheo!” Theo shot looking at kai’s room. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“She just _showed up_—what do you want me to think?” Mattheo snapped.

“She didn’t _show up_, she found your _runaway son_, you absolute fuck,” Theo said, stepping between you both. “You think the Ministry would send someone in _bare feet and a torn hoodie_ to infiltrate your life? Use your fucking head.”

You stood there, breath heaving, arm throbbing, still trying to process what had just happened.

Mattheo’s chest rose and fell like he was seconds away from an explosion.

You looked at him, and your voice cracked.

Theo’s voice softened. “What if Kai wakes up right now? and sees you like this? He won’t forgive you.”

Mattheo stepped back finally, chest still heaving, jaw tight.

“Look at her bag,” he snapped, glaring past Theo like you weren’t even there. “She had it all fucking planned.”

You froze near the doorway, turning sharply. “What?”

He didn’t answer you. He looked at Theo again, pointing. “She’s carrying her whole life on her shoulder. Like she was just _waiting_ for a chance like this.”

You blinked, confused, heart hammering. “I didn’t—”

“What the _fuck_ were you doing in that park at 2am?” Mattheo snarled, stepping closer.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He scoffed, eyes scanning you like he was trying to piece you apart. “Right. You were just… _wandering_. Alone. In the middle of the night. At the _exact same time_ my son runs away?”

You stayed silent, your fingers curling around the edge of your sleeve.

“Answer me,” he snapped. “I asked you a _damn thing_.”

You finally looked at him, eyes sharp, voice shaking. “Well maybe I don’t want to answer.”

Silence stretched between you like glass—sharp, delicate, dangerous.

Theo raised a hand cautiously. “Mate—”

Mattheo cut him off, his voice rising. “See?! SEE? She’s hiding something. She won’t answer a _basic_ question.”

“I’m not hiding—” you started.

He stepped forward. “Then _tell me_. Tell me why you were there. Tell me why my son suddenly wants to call a _stranger_his mother.”

Theo’s jaw clenched. “Mattheo, stop it.”

“No. No, I won’t fucking stop.” His eyes locked with yours. “She walks in here with a sad story, and you _believe her_? Kai’s _vulnerable_—she’s using that.”

You took a slow step back, your throat closing.

You hadn’t planned for any of this. You hadn’t even known how you were going to get through the night. All you’d done was see a little boy crying, and_.

You lifted your chin, trying not to let it shake.

“I didn’t _plan_ anything. I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t _want_ anything except for that kid to stop crying.” You looked down at your arm, still red from earlier. “But if you want to throw accusations around, fine. Let me make it easier.”

You walked to the wall, grabbed your bag with one hand, and pulled the zipper open.

“Here.” You yanked out its contents: a crumpled hoodie, one pair of socks, a toothbrush, a tiny roll of coins. “There’s the fucking plan.”

Mattheo stayed silent. His jaw clenched.

You looked at him, chest heaving. “You want to know what I was doing in the park?” Your voice rose, cracking under pressure. “Trying to not fall apart. Trying to find somewhere to breathe without feeling like I was _nothing_. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, no one to call. And then I heard him crying. That’s it. That’s the whole goddamn story.”

Theo took a slow step forward. “Y/N…”

You shook your head and backed up, blinking fast.

“No. No, it’s fine.” You shoved everything back into the bag with shaky hands. “I’ll go. Clearly I’m just some emotionally unstable bitch who manipulates children for fun, right?”

“Don’t do that,” Theo said quietly. “Come on, just breathe—”

“I _am_ breathing,” you snapped through tears.

"Now get the fuck out of my house,"

Then, before either of them could stop you, you turned and walked toward the stairs.

Fast.

As fast as your legs would carry you.

Because if you didn’t leave right now, you were going to break in front of them—and you didn’t want Kai to ever see that.

You walked fast. Too fast.

Your vision blurred with every step, each tear turning the world into fogged shadows. The night was cold now—colder than it had been back in the park—and the weight of your bag bounced on your shoulder as you pushed past the front gates of the mansion.

"Y/N!" someone called behind you.

You didn’t turn.

Your legs moved faster. The gravel crunched under your feet, then shifted to pavement as you reached the empty street beyond the estate. The gates shut behind you with a deep metallic groan, and it sounded like finality. Like an ending.

You walked.

One block. Two. Somewhere, your lungs started to burn.

You didn't know where you were going, and you didn’t care.

You just had to get _away_.

From the accusations. From Mattheo’s voice. From the way his chocolate eyes had looked at you like you were disgusting.

And now you had nothing.

Not even that.

Tag list :

@pluto-9456

@esmerai-artemis

[sadnymi]

Dark Haven

Single dad!Mattheo riddle x reader

Chapter one

It’s 2 a.m., and the cold grass of the park is damp beneath you. You’re sitting on a swing, but not swinging. Just existing. Your fingers are numb, your shoes are soaked. You’ve got maybe five Sickles in your pocket. Enough for one sad meal.

You don’t even know how you ended up here. One minute your stepmother was screaming at you and the next, your bags were flying through the door and landing on the pavement. And just like that—no job, no home, no plan. Nothing.

You tilt your head back and stare at the stars. What the fuck am I doing you whisper into the sky, like maybe it’ll answer

And then—

A sound.

Faint. A cry. Maybe a cat. Maybe someone drunk and wandering.

You ignore it at first. You’re too tired for anything that isn’t miraculous.

But then it comes again. Louder. Sharper. A child’s cry.

You sit up straight. Blink. Scan the shadows. And there—at the edge of the park near the benches—is a small shape, huddled on the ground.

“What the hell...?” You’re on your feet in an instant.

As you run toward him, the shape sharpens. A little boy, no older than four. He’s on his knees, head down, his tiny fists scrubbing at his face. His cheeks are blotchy, his nose red, and his breathing’s all hiccupy from crying so hard for so long.

“Hey,” you say softly, kneeling down beside him. “Are you okay?”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“Don’t touch me!” he snaps, his voice high and cracked. “Go away!”

You blink. “Okay. I won’t touch you. Promise.” You raise your hands, slowly. “But you’re out here alone and I just want to help.”

“I don’t need help!” he cries again. “I don’t need anything from you!”

You fight the urge to groan. Or cry. Or both.

“Alright, cool, tough guy,” you say gently. “But, uh, it *is* freezing. And your knee’s bleeding, by the way.”

He frowns, glancing down at his scraped knee like it personally betrayed him. You dig through your pockets for a tissue and offer it.

He eyes it. Then eyes you. Finally, he takes it with a suspicious glare and dabs at the blood.

“There we go,” you say, trying for lighthearted. “That’s better.”

For a second, he just sits there, sniffling, quiet now. Then he glances up at you again.

“You’re not a bad guy,” he says, voice small.

You smile. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

He doesn’t smile back. Just looks at you with big, tired eyes.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Kai.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you, Kai. I’m Y/N.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

You try not to laugh. “So… Kai, why are you out here all alone?”

He frowns. Looks down at his shoes. “I dunno.”

“Where’s your mum?” you ask gently.

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. Instantly.

He flinches again. His eyes water. “I don’t have a mum.”

You freeze. “Oh. Oh no, I—”

He cuts you off. “I don’t know if I have one,” he says, voice wobbling. “Daddy doesn’t talk about her. I don’t know. I only have Daddy.”

Your heart cracks so hard you swear you hear it.

“I’m so sorry, Kai,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

You sit there with him for a minute. Then gently, you reach out and push his wild, messy hair back from his forehead.

“Can I ask you something else?” you say.

He nods.

“Did something happen with your dad?”

He shrugs again, but this time he doesn’t say anything.

You watch him carefully. The way his lip wobbles. The way he clutches the tissue in his tiny fist like it’s a lifeline.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” you say. “But… I think maybe you had a fight? And maybe you ran away?”

His shoulders go stiff.

You sigh. “I’ve run away before too, you know.”

“You have?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people say things and you just want to disappear for a while.”

Kai nods. Then: “He didn’t wanna tell me about my mum. I asked again and again and he just got mad. Said to stop asking. But everyone else has a mum. Why not me?”

You press your hand to your chest. Trying to stop the way it physically aches.

“Oh, Kai,” you say. “That doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. Grown-ups get scared too. Sometimes they don’t talk about things because they’re hurting, not because they don’t care.”

He leans into you a little.

You open your arms slowly, unsure.

But then—he shuffles closer. Collapses into your lap like a tired kitten. Your hands tremble as you wrap your arms around him.

“I bet your dad loves you more than anything,” you whisper.

“ I think he doesn’t he was angry,” Kai murmurs.

You shake your head. “I *promise* he does.”

There’s a silence between you. The kind that’s soft. Healing.

Then—

“I’m hungry,” he says suddenly, like the thought just popped into his head.

You freeze. Oh, shit.

“Oh?” you say cautiously.

“Can we get some ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “I know a shop that’s open late. Daddy takes me sometimes.”

You hesitate. Think about the five Sickles in your pocket. Your last five. Enough for food. Maybe a train ticket somewhere. Anything but—

But he’s looking at you like *that*.

Like you’re the last person in the world who could make things okay.

You smile. “Yeah, alright. Let’s get you some ice cream.”

“Really?!” He beams, suddenly sunshine in human form.

You laugh—*actually* laugh—as he throws his little arms around your neck and squeezes. “You’re the best ever.”

And somehow that breaks you even more.

“C’mon, champ,” you whisper, standing and lifting him into your arms. “Let’s get that ice cream.”

You carry him all the way to the shop. He tells you about his favorite flavors. You pretend to be shocked when he says he hates mint. You make jokes about ice cream names. And somewhere between the laughter and the streetlights, you forget for a moment that your whole life is falling apart.

Because for now—it’s just you and this little boy and a promise you’ll keep, even if it costs you everything.

And somehow… that’s enough.

You were halfway to the corner shop, Kai clinging to you like a little koala, when he suddenly pulled back slightly to look at your face.

“You have nice hair,” Kai mumbles suddenly, his fingers playing with a loose strand that had fallen from your bun.

You blink, then smile so softly it hurts. “You think so?”

He nods seriously. “Like... a princess. But cooler.”

Your heart swells.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Thank you, little man.”

He smiled—truly smiled—and then threw his arms tighter around your neck, wrapping his legs around your waist, burying his face back into your shoulder.

You hadn’t been hugged like that in a long, long time.

“Is your hair magic?” he asked a minute later, his voice sleepy and curious.

You giggled. “Only when the wind behaves.”

“Can I have magic hair, too?”

You nodded solemnly. “With enough ice cream? Definitely.”

he says, muffled into your jacket. “I like you.”

You hug him back, a laugh caught in your throat. “Well, I like you too, trouble.”

You walk through the quiet street, carrying him, and he keeps asking things like, “What’s your favorite ice cream?” and “Can you fly on a broom?” and “Do you think owls get cold in the winter?”

You answer each one, like it’s the most important question in the world. And to him, it probably is.

When you finally reach the 24/7 market tucked at the corner of Knockturn Lane, it’s empty, save for an old witch behind the counter with wild grey curls and a warm smile.

You set Kai down gently and grab a tub of chocolate frog ice cream—his choice, of course—and, with your last remaining Sickles, a small tin of potion-soaked wipes to clean his knee. Essentials. That’s what you tell yourself.

You motion to a little wooden bench in the corner and pat the spot next to you.

“Sit, little man.”

He obeys, legs dangling as you open the tin and carefully wipe the dried blood from his knee.

“Do I get a reward for being brave?” he says cheekily.

You raise a brow. “You already got ice cream, greedy boy.”

He giggles.

Kai talks nonstop as he eats—about dragons and his toy knight . You play along, laugh at all the right places, and sneak a bite of his ice cream when he offers you a spoonful with his tiny, sticky hand.

Then—suddenly—the bell above the door jingles.

The sound makes Kai freeze.

And then—_wrap_—his arms slam around your neck, tighter than ever before, as he buries his face into your shoulder.

“Kai?” you whisper, confused.

Then comes the voice.

Low. Deep. Sharp. “Mattheo! I found him!”

Kai _screams_—a raw, broken thing—and clutches at you with everything he has.

You turn fast, arms tightening around his small frame. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I got you. I _got_ you, Kai. You’re safe, baby, I promise.”

You held him tighter, turned your body slightly so you were shielding him from the door. “Kai, baby, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

And then—he stepped inside.

Tall. Lean, his curls messy like he’d been running his hands through them for hours. His eyes—the exact same shade of melted chocolate as Kai’s—landed on the boy in your arms.

His face broke.

“Kai,” he breathed, like the name itself was sacred.

But Kai wouldn’t look at him. He clutched you tighter, his fingers fisting in your coat.

“Kai,” Mattheo said again, his voice trembling. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I thought—” He stopped himself. “Please, look at me.”

“No,” Kai muttered. “You didn’t tell me. I hate you.”

You looked up, heart racing, unsure of what to say or do.

Mattheo stepped forward but froze when Kai whimpered and pressed his face into your neck.

You could feel how badly he wanted to go to him—but he didn’t. He stood there, trembling.

“Kai,” the man says again, voice lower. Softer. Almost breaking.

“Don’t wanna talk to you!” Kai screams suddenly, pushing his face into your neck.

You rise slowly, still holding Kai in your arms like he’s your own.

Mattheo takes a single step forward, but Kai twists away, kicking, crying harder.

“Let me talk to him,” you say gently.

Mattheo’s eyes flick to yours, sharp. “I don’t need help speaking to my own son.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Obviously you do. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t have run away and ended up crying alone in a park.”

He stiffens. “Excuse me?”

You inhale. Yeah. You’re stepping over a line.

But gods, the way Kai is shaking. The way his little fingers cling to your back.

“I want Y/N to be my mummy.”

Your arms freeze. Your lungs stop working. You _stare_ down at him, wide-eyed.

Mattheo’s face twists—shock first, then disbelief, then… something else.

“Kai,” he says gently, stepping forward. “We can’t just say that. You _just_ met her.”

“Why not?” Kai demands, wiping his nose on your sleeve. “She loves me! She held me and made my knee better and gave me ice cream and didn’t yell!”

"It doesn’t work like that pal,"

Mattheo knelt in front of his son, gently brushing a curl away from Kai’s tearstained face. “You scared the hell out of me, Kai,” he whispered, voice shaky but soft. “You know I love you, right? Even if I mess up… even if I don’t talk about things the way I should.”

Kai sniffled, nodding slowly, but he didn’t leave your arms. Instead, he leaned back into your chest, small fingers still gripping your sleeve like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

You just watched them—father and son—and something inside you clenched so hard it hurt.

The way Mattheo looked at Kai, the way he lowered his voice and wiped his face so tenderly… It was the kind of love you had never witnessed up close. Never felt in your own life.

And it shattered something raw inside you.

You blinked, fast and hard. No. Not here. Not now.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t fall apart. You survived. That’s what you did.

But gods, watching them—watching what you never had—it made your chest ache with longing.

Kai’s voice pulled you out of it. Small and broken again.

“Please…” He turned, looking at you with wide eyes. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Y/N…”

Your heart cracked clean down the middle.

You slid off the bench and knelt in front of him, brushing your fingers through his curls.

“What if…” you whispered, brushing your thumb against his cheek, “what if I go with you?”

His eyes lit up instantly. “You will?”

You smiled through the storm in your chest. “Yeah. I will.”

He didn’t hesitate—he wrapped his arms around your neck and held you like you were already home.

Mattheo stood stiff behind you, lips pressed in a hard line, clearly not thrilled.

But before he could say anything, the other man—tall, lean, sharp-jawed with striking blue eyes and a subtle smirk—spoke up.

“You don’t have to,” he said gently, voice calm but curious.

You looked up at him. “I know.”

He nodded, respectful. “I’m Theo, by the way.”

You gave him a small smile. “Y/N.”

You stood slowly, still holding him, but your eyes darted to the edge of the park where your stepmom had tossed your bag earlier. Torn, bruised, and sitting in the dirt like you had been hours ago.

“I need to get my—” you started, but you couldn’t finish. Not without letting go of Kai, and right now, you couldn’t bear to.

Theo caught your glance and didn’t wait for you to ask.

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, striding across the grass. You watched as he picked up the bag like it weighed nothing, frowning at how beat up it looked before slinging it over his shoulder.

Mattheo still hadn’t said a word.

You turned your eyes to him, your arms around his son, your heart cracked open in more ways than one.

His jaw was clenched, brow low, something unreadable swimming in his gaze.

He looked at Kai.

He looked at you.

He didn’t say a word—but his silence spoke loud enough: _He wasn’t happy about this. Not at all._

You followed behind slowly, your boots crunching against the gravel path, Kai still wrapped around you.

Theo fell into step beside you, the bag over his shoulder. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked under his breath.

You didn’t even hesitate.

"Yeah, I will leave once he fall asleep," you whispered.

Theo glanced at you—really looked—and nodded once, like he understood more than he let on.

The car came into view. Sleek. Black. Magical, obviously. The windows were tinted and the engine barely made a sound. Mattheo opened the door without looking back.

You slid into the backseat, Kai still in your arms, and Theo placed your bag gently at your feet.

Mattheo got in front without a word. Theo behind the wheel.

[sadnymi]

Hey guys, how are you doing?

I know it’s been a while, but things have been really busy and exhausting. Writing is my comfort zone, and being away from it has been so hard. I’ve been trying to break out of this writing slump, but I’ve failed so many times.

I’d love it if you sent in some requests! I know a lot of you have been asking for Heather Part 2, so I’d really appreciate it if you shared your ideas on how you’d like it to go and how you’d want it to end.

[sadnymi]

Heather

[Theodore Nott x reader]

•Words:1.9k

Sitting on the stone bench outside the castle, you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore. The cold bit at your skin, sharp and unrelenting, as the snow fell steadily around you. Everyone else seemed to be inside, laughing with friends or warming themselves by the fires in their common rooms. But you didn’t have a group to belong to. Not really.

The silence was comforting and suffocating all at once. You hadn’t brought a jacket, thinking you wouldn’t stay outside long, but you regretted it now. Your teeth began to chatter softly as you hugged your knees, trying to keep what little warmth you had.

“Strange place to be sitting in this weather,” Theo’s voice broke through the stillness, smooth and curious.

You looked up, startled. There he was, Theo Nott, with his hands shoved into his pockets, his hair dusted with snowflakes. He tilted his head slightly as he regarded you, that same calm intensity in his eyes that always made your heart flutter.

You forced a small smile, trying not to seem as pathetic as you felt. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Theo smirked as he lowered himself onto the bench beside you, brushing snow off the seat first. “Nothing better to do? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t know how to enjoy snow.”

You chuckled softly. “I never said that.”

“Then go make a snow angel or start a snowball fight,” he suggested, his voice light with amusement. “Or, if you’re feeling particularly brave, go sledding down the hill by Hagrid’s hut. I hear Pansy tried it last year and nearly broke Draco’s neck.”

You shook your head, laughing a little. “I think I’ll pass.”

His smirk fading into something softer. “Why are you really out here, Y/N?”

Your breath caught, and you hesitated. You didn’t know how to tell him you just wanted to escape the overwhelming loneliness you felt inside. So you shrugged instead. “Just needed some air.”

he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back, glancing at the snow-covered grounds. “Well, it’s freezing out here. You could’ve at least brought a jacket.”

“I didn’t think I’d stay this long,” you admitted, rubbing your arms for warmth. You shivered visibly then, your whole body trembling.

He noticed immediately. “Merlin, you’re shaking like a bloody leaf,” he muttered, already unzipping his sweater.

Your eyes widened as he pulled it over his head, revealing the fitted white shirt underneath that clung to his chest and shoulders. You quickly looked away, your face burning despite the cold. “Theo, no. You’ll —”

“Nuh-uh,” he cut you off, holding the sweater out to you. “I’m fine. Put it on, Y/N. You’re going to turn into an icicle.”

You hesitated, shaking your head. “No, really. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to—”

“For Salazar’s sake, just take it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not arguing with you about this. Put it on.”

Reluctantly, you took the sweater from his hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. It was still warm, and it smelled like him—You slipped it over your head, the fabric enveloping you like a hug.

“See? That’s better,” he said, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips as he leaned back again, his arm casually draped over the back of the bench. “You look ridiculous in my clothes, though.”

Tugging the sleeves down over your hands you side eyed him. “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

He grinned. “Don’t mention it, but seriously, Y/N, you shouldn’t sit out here alone like this.”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I like the quiet.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a quieter, more sincere tone. “Next time, tell me. I’ll sit with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you glanced at him, surprised. “You would?”

He smirked, but there was a warmth behind it. “What, you think I’d let you freeze out here by yourself? I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Can’t have people thinking I let my… friends suffer.”

Friends. The word stung a little, but you pushed the feeling aside, nodding. “Thanks, Theo.”

“Don’t mention it,” Theo said again, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “But if you do end up sledding by Hagrid’s hut, let me know. I’d pay good money to see that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, the warmth of his sweater and his presence dulling the bitter chill in the air. But before you could say anything more, movement caught your eye.

Heather Whitmore. She was walking toward the courtyard with her usual group of friends.

Heather wasn’t just beautiful—she was radiant. With her golden hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders and her perfectly pressed robes, she looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale. Everyone adored her. Professors sang her praises, students gravitated toward her, and even the portraits seemed to lean closer when she passed. She was kind in a way that didn’t feel forced, effortlessly graceful, and charming without trying.

As she approached, her soft laughter carried on the winter air, and you didn’t need to look at Theo to know his attention had shifted. You could feel it.

But you looked anyway.

His eyes followed her, his smirk fading into something softer. His gaze lingered on her face, taking in the way she smiled, the way she carried herself as if she floated instead of walked.

You knew that look. You knew it because it was the same way you looked at him. Like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he was everything.

And now you were watching him look at Heather that way.

Your chest tightened, the air freezing in your lungs. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. The ache was too raw, too consuming.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” you heard yourself say before you could stop.

His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight you weren’t used to hearing.

The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “She seems… nice,” you said, your voice cracking just enough to betray you.

Theo glanced at you briefly, but his eyes were already drawn back to Heather. “She is.”

“She’s got a lot of friends,” you added, trying to sound casual, like you were making an observation instead of feeling your heart splintering into pieces.

“She’s easy to get along with,” Theo replied simply, his tone nonchalant, though his gaze was anything but.

“Everyone loves her,” you said softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hard not to,” Theo muttered, his lips twitching into a small smile.

The final blow came when Heather glanced in Theo’s direction and smiled, her cheeks rosy from the cold. You saw it—the way her eyes lit up when they met his. And he smiled back, faint but unmistakable.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of it all—your loneliness, the unspoken feelings you’d harbored for so long, the way he looked at her the way you’d always dreamed he’d look at you—it was suffocating.

“I should go inside,” you said suddenly, standing up.

Theo frowned, pulling his eyes away from Heather to look at you. “What? Why? You—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, forcing a smile as you reached for the hem of his sweater to pull it off. “Here—”

His hand shot out, gently grabbing yours to stop you. “No, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

The casual smile he gave you was enough to make your heart flutter and shatter at the same time. You hesitated, swallowing hard before whispering, “Thanks, Theo.”

You turned before he could see the tears threatening to spill and started walking away, your steps unsteady.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heather excusing herself from her friends, her gaze set firmly on Theo. Her radiant smile didn’t falter as she crossed the courtyard, her steps confident and deliberate.

You didn’t stay to watch the rest. You couldn’t.

Each step back toward the castle felt heavier than the last, the warmth of Theo’s sweater doing little to soothe the cold sinking into your chest.

A week later, the air at Hogwarts still carried the sharp chill of winter. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you made your way across the courtyard, keeping to yourself as you always did. You didn’t mind being alone, not really—but lately, the silence felt heavier, harder to bear.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called, pulling your attention.

You turned to see Enzo, his bright grin cutting through the cold, waving you over. He stood with the usual group—Mattheo, Blaise, Pansy, Draco, and Theo. But your gaze faltered when you saw Theo. His arm was draped casually around Heather’s shoulders, her blonde hair shining in the pale sunlight. She leaned into him, her perfect smile turning up as she laughed at something Blaise said.

Steeling yourself, you walked over, forcing a smile as you greeted them. “Hi, guys.”

Enzo immediately dropped his arm over your shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “There’s my savior,” he said dramatically.

You laughed lightly, though your pulse quickened at the sudden attention. “Savior?”

“You helped me not fail that Potions exam,” Enzo reminded you, grinning.

Heather’s soft voice chimed in, her tone light but pointed. “That’s cheating.”

Enzo smirked, tilting his head dramatically. “Cheating? Nah. I call it teamwork. Besides,” he added, nudging you with his elbow, “Y/N’s a good friend. The best, actually.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal. You knew most of the answers already.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t downplay it,” Enzo said, squeezing your shoulder. “You saved my life, and I owe you. Big time. Dinner, drinks, whatever you want—it’s on me.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Enzo,”

“Alright, but if you change your mind, just say the word.”

Draco smirked, nudging Blaise. “Careful, Enzo. I think she might just take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t mind if she did,” Enzo shot back, winking at you.

You smiled, trying to keep the moment light, though the weight in your chest grew heavier.

Heather had gone quiet. Her arms crossed against the cold as she glanced up at Theo.

“It’s freezing,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

Theo was quick to respond, shrugging off his sweater and draping it over her shoulders. “Here,” he said, his voice gentle in a way that made your stomach twist.

Heather smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Thanks, baby.”

And then he kissed her, a soft, casual press of his lips to her temple, but it felt like a dagger straight to your chest.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to keep your composure. “I—um—I have to go,” you said abruptly, stepping back.

Enzo’s hand slid off your shoulder as he turned to you, frowning. “What? Already?”

You nodded, avoiding Theo’s gaze entirely. “Yeah, I just remembered I have something important to do. I’ll see you guys later.”

“You sure?” Enzo asked.

You forced a smile, nodding again. “Positive.”

Before anyone could say more, you turned and walked away, your boots crunching through the snow as you headed back toward the castle. You didn’t dare look back, but the image of Theo and Heather lingered in your mind like a brand.

The cold bit at your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the cold that made your chest ache.

[sadnymi]

I love you, I’m sorry.

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

•Words: 3.7

•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.

The heavy thud of the door closing behind you echoed through the small flat, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the emptiness of your chest. You kicked off your shoes, not caring where they landed, and stumbled into your room. Your head swirled with the echoes of the interview panel's cold words: "You're not ready." "You should work on yourself." "Your anxiety makes it difficult to see you in this role."

The sting of those words felt sharper with every step you took. You sank down onto the floor the moment you reached your bed, your back pressing against the chipped wooden frame as the tears came, unstoppable. Hot and unrelenting, they poured down your cheeks, your breaths coming in shallow, erratic gasps as if the air itself had turned against you.

You felt like a failure—to yourself, to your family. They had been so proud when you graduated, certain you’d find your place in the world. But instead, you were here, stuck, unable to move forward. The thought of their disappointed faces made your stomach twist. You clutched your arms tightly around yourself, as though holding your own body together could stop the sharp ache radiating from within.

The sobs came harder now, a raw, guttural sound tearing from your throat as the despair fully took hold. It wasn’t just the failed interviews, though they were enough to crack anyone. It was the suffocating loneliness that wrapped itself around you like a second skin. It was the nagging thought that you were useless, that everyone who had ever believed in you had been wrong. You pressed your forehead against your knees, your breaths shallow and quick, your chest tightening to the point of pain. For a moment, you genuinely felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the weight of your own existence was crushing you.

Your tear-filled eyes roamed aimlessly, desperate for something to anchor yourself, when they landed on the edge of a wooden box poking out from beneath your bed. The sight of it pierced through the haze of anguish, stopping you cold. You wiped at your face with trembling hands, sniffling as you reached forward and dragged the box into the light.

You stared at it, your fingers hesitating on the lid. You hadn’t opened it in so long, not since you shoved it under the bed on your first night back from Hogwarts. But you knew exactly what was inside. This was where you had hidden everything—every letter, every photograph, every fragment of a life you had tried to forget. A life that included him.

Every piece inside belonged to him—letters folded in his messy handwriting, scraps of notes passed between classes, a familiar hoodie you’d stolen from him one night after a party, a forgotten tie he’d wrapped around your wrist one summer night when he joked about marking you as his.

Your trembling fingers brushed over a photograph of the two of you ,you were laughing in the picture, and he was staring at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

The ache in your chest tightened.

You remembered how he lied to you, how he swore it was to protect you, but it hadn’t mattered. You’d told him how much you hated liars, how much their betrayals gutted you, yet he’d hidden the truth anyway.

He’d found his father’s diary—the relic of a dark legacy he was desperate to escape. He’d told no one, not even you, and when you’d discovered it, it felt like every fear you’d ever had about him came crashing down. He’d been protecting you, yes, but he’d also betrayed the fragile trust you’d built.

You grabbed the hoodie, It was his scent that hit you first, faint and faded but still undeniably him. You clutched the hoodie to your chest, your body trembling as a sob tore through you. Pulling it over your head, you sank to the floor again, letting the fabric drown you in the warmth you’d once felt in his arms.

Even after everything, even knowing he’d chosen you over the darkness of his family, you had left him. You left because looking at him reminded you of every betrayal, every lie you’d ever endured. He’d chosen you, but you couldn’t handle the weight of his choices, the scars they left on him and you. You couldn’t stay, even when you needed him more than anything even when he needed you more than anything .

He chosen you he fight his father he stand with the people who hate him since he was a child and proved them all wrong.

"I did it for you," he had said, voice broken and desperate the night you walked away. "I’ve always done it for you."

And yet, you left. You had to.

Now, sitting in the remnants of what you’d once been together, the pain in your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You had to get out.

you left the house. The rain was relentless, cold and sharp as it soaked through your clothes, but you didn’t care. You didn’t take an umbrella, didn’t even glance back at the house. You just walked, aimless at first, the streets blurring around you as the tears mixed with the rain.

But you knew where you were going. You always did.

You’d asked Theo once, offhandedly, where Mattheo lived now. He’d told you.

You had no right to show up there, no right to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal, but your feet carried you forward anyway.

When you reached his house, your heart pounded so hard it drowned out the rain. You stood at the gate, soaked and trembling, staring at the door as if it might open on its own. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the button for the intercom, the static buzzing in your ear as you tried to find the words.

"Mattheo," you said, your voice cracking. "This is Y/N. Can... can you..." The words died in your throat, and you clenched your fists. "No. Forget it." You stepped back, shaking your head, your tears blending with the rain.

But you couldn’t leave. You turned back, pressing the button again, your voice desperate now. "Mattheo, please. Can you open the door? I just—I just want to see you."

Nothing.

You pressed the button a third time, your voice breaking completely. "I know I shouldn’t be here. I know I left, and I hurt you. But I—I couldn’t stop thinking —— just please, Mattheo. Just—just let me see you."

The silence on the other end felt deafening. You thought you might collapse right there, your chest tight and your heart threatening to shatter. He didn’t want to see you. He wasn’t going to open the door.

You turned to leave, your steps heavy and reluctant as you walked back down the path.

Then you saw him.

He was just getting out of a car, his movements freezing when his eyes landed on you. His name was on your lips, but no sound came out. You stopped in your tracks, drenched and trembling, staring at him as he stared back.

"Y/N," he whispered, he looked at you like you were a ghost, his dark eyes scanning your tear-streaked face, your shaking frame. "What the hell...?"

He dropped whatever he was holding and walked toward you. "What are you doing here? You're soaked. You're—"

"I..." Your voice broke, and the words stuck in your throat. "I didn’t know where else to go."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw the storm of emotions behind his eyes—anger, worry, confusion, and something softer, something that made your heart ache even more.

He sighed, running a hand down his face before stepping closer. "Come inside," he said finally, his voice softer now, though the tension remained.

When you hesitated, he frowned. "Y/N, you’re soaked. You’ll get sick."

His hand brushed your arm, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the rain.

The moment he closed the door behind you, his sharp eyes immediately landed on the hoodie you were wearing—_his hoodie._ His jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered with something unreadable before he drew in a breath.

"I’m going to need you to take that off," he said, "You’re soaked, and you’re shaking. I’ll grab you something else to wear."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already moving

You stood frozen, still clutching the edges of the hoodie like a lifeline as he returned with a thick, soft blanket and a dry sweater. He didn’t look at you directly as he placed them on the back of a chair. "Take the hoodie off," he said again, softer this time. "You’ll catch pneumonia like this."

You hesitated, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I’m serious. Change into this and sit by the fire. I’ll make some tea or... something."

He walked away, his shoulders stiff, leaving you to do as he asked. When he returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a towel slung over his arm, you had swapped the hoodie for the sweater he’d left. He stopped short when he saw you curled up near the fire, your knees pulled to your chest. His expression softened, but his walls remained up.

"Better?" he asked, crouching beside you and placing the mug on the table.

You nodded, though your trembling hands gave you away. He reached for the towel, pausing for a moment before gently patting your hair dry. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if touching you might shatter you—or him.

"You shouldn’t have come out in the rain like that," he said, his tone low and even, though there was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I just... I needed to see you."

He stilled, his hand lingering near your shoulder before pulling away entirely. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself.

"Do you remember… second year? When you found me crying in the Astronomy Tower after I got a C in my Transfiguration exam?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I remember."

"I’d been trying so hard," you said, the words tumbling out in a fragile rush. "I was so scared of disappointing everyone—my professors, my parents. But you… you just sat with me. You didn’t say anything at first, and then you started telling me about the time you nearly set your own robes on fire in Charms class."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, so faint you almost missed it. "I still have the scorch marks on this tie somewhere."

The silence stretched between you after your confession, the only sounds in the room coming from the rain hammering against the windows and the soft crackle of the fire. Mattheo’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

You looked at him, your throat tightening. "That’s what you did, Mattheo. You were always there for me. Always knew what to say, what to do to make me feel like I wasn’t drowning."

The words hung in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time. His face darkened, and his jaw clenched.

"And I wasn’t there for you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not when it mattered. Not when you needed me."

Mattheo stood abruptly, the motion sharp and full of barely contained anger. He paced a few steps away, his hands raking through his hair before he turned back to you, his eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with a fury that.

"I—"

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharper now. "Why are you here? After everything? After _you_ left, after you tore me apart and acted like I was nothing to you?"

"Mattheo, please," you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

"No!" he snapped. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere, wearing my hoodie, dredging up memories, and—" His voice cracked, and he turned away, raking his hands through his hair.

You flinched at his words, your breath hitching. "I—I don’t know," you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. "I was hurt too!"

His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You were hurt?" he snapped, his voice rising. "You left, Y/N. You fucking _left_. When I needed you most, you walked away. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea how it felt? to lose you—too?"

"Do you even know what it felt like Mattheo? Thinking you betrayed me? Thinking you were just like everyone else who lied, who hid things from me? I thought you were protecting them—not me. And it broke me, Mattheo. It broke everything I thought we had."

He froze, his chest rising and falling heavily, but his expression didn’t soften.

His jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as his fists clenched at his sides. "You think I wasn’t broken too?" he snapped. "I _lost everything,_ Y/N. My family, my name—everything. And I didn’t care, because I chose _you_. And you left anyway"

Your heart shattered at his words, but you forced yourself to speak. "I was scared! I didn’t know how to stay, Mattheo. I thought—I thought I’d just make everything worse."

His laugh was bitter, cutting through you like a knife. "You did," he said coldly. "You made everything worse by running away."

“I felt like I was responsible for your pain,” you said, choking on the words. “Your choice, your loss—it felt like my fault. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I didn’t know how to face you without seeing everything I thought I’d destroyed.”

“Do you hear yourself? You left because _you_ couldn’t deal with _my_ pain? That’s rich, Y/N. Real fucking rich.”

“You have every right to hate me,” you said, your voice breaking. “I was wrong. God, I was so wrong. But it’s happened, Mattheo. And somehow, I’m still here, breathing, hurting. I look at myself, and I see everything I’ve ruined. Look at me.” You gestured to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “Look at how fucked up I am. I wasn’t strong enough to stay, and now I’m barely holding it together. It’s like some fucked-up punishment, but I deserve it.”

He stared at you, his expression hard, unmoving.

“You think this is about you deserving punishment?” he said, his voice laced with venom. “You think your guilt makes this better for me?

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling as his words stabbed deeper. “Mattheo, stop—”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to stop,” he shot back. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you care now.”

“I love you!” you cried, the words ripping from your throat. “I love you, Mattheo. I always have, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He froze, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he might say something—might give you even a sliver of hope.

“Do you?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you met his eyes. “Do you still love me, Mattheo?”

The silence stretched between you, unbearable, suffocating. He looked at you, his breathing uneven, his jaw tight. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You can stay the night. You can’t go out in the rain like that and leave tomorrow.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, staring after him.

You watched him disappear down the hall, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the house. Your gaze drifted to the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a dull glow on the room.

You couldn’t stay. Not when he wouldn’t look at you, not when his words sliced through you like a blade, leaving wounds that felt too raw to ever heal. The fire crackled behind you as you stood by the door, frozen for a moment, before you gripped the handle and twisted it.

The rain greeted you with an icy embrace, drenching you instantly as you stepped outside. It poured relentlessly, soaking through your clothes and clinging to your skin as you stumbled down the path, your tears mingling with the rain.

Each step felt heavier than the last, your chest tightening with every sob that ripped through you. The cold bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache that clawed at your heart.

The rain blurred your vision, or maybe it was your tears. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care where you were going. You only knew that you couldn’t stay.

“You’re leaving again?”

The voice shattered the storm, sharp and rough, cutting through the pounding rain and your spiraling thoughts.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you turned. There he was, standing a few paces behind you, his hair drenched, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t name. Anger? Hurt? Desperation?

“You can’t just show up to leave again,” he said, his voice tight, low, and trembling with restraint as he stepped toward you.

“You told me to leave,” you choked out, your voice trembling as your tears spilled freely. “It doesn’t mattering it’s now or tomorrow.”

“Fuck, it does,” he snapped, running a hand through his wet hair as the rain continued to pour. “It does, Y/N.”

“What are you even saying?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, breaking under the weight of his words.

Mattheo took another step forward, his eyes blazing despite the rain streaking his face. He was trembling, not from the cold but from something far more volatile, far more vulnerable.

“Ask me again,” he said.

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“Ask me again, Y/N,” he demanded, his tone a mixture of desperation and fury. “Ask me if I still love you.”

Your heart stopped, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice breaking now. “Fucking ask me, Y/N.”

“Do you… do you still love me?” you finally whispered, the words fragile, trembling like you were.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

His hands grabbing your waist as he pulled you to him with a force that stole your breath. The kiss came hard and fast, his lips colliding with yours like he’d been starving for this moment. His hands were everywhere—cupping your face, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as though he could fuse your bodies together and make up for all the time you’d lost.

You gasped against his lips, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to hold onto something solid as he kissed you like his life depended on it. The rain poured harder, drenching you both, but you couldn’t feel the cold anymore—not with the heat of his lips, the way his tongue slid against yours, the way his hands gripped you like he was terrified you’d disappear again.

“Mattheo,” you whispered against his lips, but he didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t,” he muttered, as he broke the kiss just long enough to lift you off your feet. His hands slid to the backs of your thighs, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled you tighter against him, his lips finding yours again, this time slower but no less desperate.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Every word unsaid, every tear shed, every moment of longing you’d both endured. He kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of pain, anger, and love he’d carried into you, as though he could make you feel just how much he still wanted you, needed you.

“I hate you for leaving,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw, breaking with emotion. “But fuck, I love you too much to let you go again.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, tears mingling with the rain as you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

His forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing hard as the rain continued to pour, but neither of you cared.

[sadnymi]

lonesome

[Theodore Nott × reader]

Summary: inspired by those requests: 1. 2. When your childhood bestfriend decided to leave you without any explanation.

Warning: Angst,fluff,smut,strong language unprotected sex ( cool but don’t try it ) .

Words:8,5k

Theodore Nott had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Our families had been friends for ages, and we grew up together, practically inseparable. I still remember how it was when we were young—how he was always there

i remember it all too well i remember the time we lay on the grass in his backyard, me resting my head on his leg while he sketched whatever caught his eye. His concentration was always so intense, his brow furrowed in that adorable way, and I would watch him, feeling completely at peace.

Or the rainy afternoons spent in his family’s library, where we would curl up with a book, me leaning against his shoulder, reading in silence. Sometimes, we would talk for hours, our conversations flowing effortlessly from one topic to another. He was my confidant, my protector, my best friend.

When we were kids, I was terrified at the thought of going to Hogwarts. I remember clutching Theo's hand, my voice trembling as I confided in him, "I'm scared, Theo. What if I can't make any friends? What if I don't fit in?" He had squeezed my hand reassuringly, his eyes full of determination. "You don't have to worry, Y/N. I'll be there. You’ll never be alone." With him by my side, I felt safe, invincible even. I wasn’t scared of anything when I was with Theo.

But things changed as we grew older.

After this goddamn night.

Theo's transformation into the quintessential bad boy was something I never saw coming. The carefree boy who used to bring me flowers turned into someone I hardly recognized. His presence became darker, more enigmatic, and he started exuding a fuck-boy aura that drew people in.

The Theo I knew and loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep.

Now, we barely spoke to each other.

The bond we shared seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by his new persona.

He would walk past me in the corridors of Hogwarts, his eyes cold and distant, as if I was just another face in the crowd. It hurt more than I cared to admit. I missed who he used to be, the one who would stay up late talking with me about everything and nothing.

As I walked through the bustling corridors of Hogwarts, my thoughts were consumed by memories of Theo. It was hard not to think about how much things had changed between us. The Theo I once knew, my best friend, seemed like a distant memory, replaced by this new, enigmatic version of him.

Suddenly, someone bumped into me, and my books went tumbling to the ground. I looked up to see Aiden, one of Theo's friends, smirking down at me.

"Watch where you're going, Y/N," He sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Laughter erupted from the group of Slytherins gathered around, and I felt a flush of embarrassment and anger rise to my cheeks. I quickly bent down to gather my books, trying to ignore their jeers.

"Honestly, can't even walk straight," He continued, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

I shot him a glare but didn't respond. As I gathered the last of my books, Aiden kicked one of them further away. "Oops," he said, feigning innocence. "Looks like you missed one."

The laughter grew louder, and I felt my throat tighten. As I stood up, clutching my books to my chest, I glanced over at Theo, who was leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold. He didn’t join in the laughter, but he didn’t intervene either. His expression was unreadable, and the lack of reaction from him cut deeper than any of Aden's words.

Hurt and feeling utterly humiliated, I turned and walked away, trying to keep my composure. The laughter still echoed behind me, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

Once I was alone, I let out a shaky breath. My heart was pounding, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. How had things gotten to this point? How had Theo, my Theo, become someone who could stand by and do nothing while his friends mocked me?

As I walked, I couldn't help but replay the scene in my mind. The look on Theo's face haunted me. It was as if he was a stranger, someone I barely recognized.

I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see another Slytherin boy, Sam, hurrying towards me. Unlike Aiden, Sam always seemed more thoughtful and kind.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, concern evident in his voice. "Are you okay?"

I quickly wiped at my eyes, not wanting to show my vulnerability. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

He frowned, clearly not convinced. "Here, let me help you with those." He took the books from my arms, his touch gentle.

"Thanks, Sam," I said, giving him a small smile. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did," he replied, walking beside me. "Aiden is an ass. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

I nodded, grateful for his kindness. We walked in silence for a moment, and then he turned to me with a curious look.

"Y/N, would you like to hang out sometime? Maybe grab a butterbeer at Hogsmeade this weekend?"

I blinked in surprise. "Are you asking me out?"

Sam shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I guess I am. So, what do you say?"

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"Great," he said, his smile widening. "It's a date."

The next day, as we walked through the grounds of Hogwarts together, Sam was determined to lift my spirits. He cracked jokes and shared funny stories, and I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time. It felt good to have someone who genuinely cared about how I was feeling.

As we approached the Great Hall, I caught a glimpse of Theo out of the corner of my eye. He was leaning against a pillar, his gaze fixed on us. There was an intensity in his eyes that made my laughter falter for a moment.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, noticing my sudden change in mood.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, forcing a smile. "Just thought I saw someone I knew."

We continued walking, and I couldn't help but glance back at Theo. He was still watching us, his expression unreadable. I felt a pang of confusion and frustration. Why did he care now?

"Y/N," Sam said, breaking through my thoughts. "I wanted to ask... Is everything alright between you and Nott? I mean, you used to be so close."

I sighed, looking down at my feet. "It's complicated. We were best friends, but things changed."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Sam," I said, genuinely appreciating his support. "That means a lot."

As we entered the Great Hall, I couldn't shake the feeling of Theo's eyes on me. Part of me wanted to march over and demand to know why he was acting this way, but another part of me was too scared to face the truth. Instead, I focused on enjoying my time with Sam, grateful for his unexpected kindness.

As I walked back to my dorm, my thoughts were a tangled mess. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, and I was looking forward to some peace and quiet. Just as I reached the entrance to the common room, a voice broke through my thoughts.

"So, enjoying your time with Sam, are you?" Theo's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it that made me stop in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding. "Wow, so you're talking to me now?"

Theo's eyes were dark, and he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Yeah, I'm talking to you. And I'm telling you to stay away from Sam."

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. "You don't get to tell me who I can and can't see, Theo."

He stepped closer, invading my personal space. "Stay away from that Sam. He's not good for you."

I scoffed, refusing to back down. "And you are?" My eyes narrowed. "You don't have the right to tell me what to do, Theodore. Not now, not after how you've been treating me."

His eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but he kept up his bad boy aura, leaning in even closer. "I know what’s good for you."

We were so close now, the tension between us palpable. It felt like we were seconds away from either killing each other or tearing each other’s clothes off.

"You don't know shit about what's good for me," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else, something more dangerous.

"Don't I?" he challenged, his voice low and filled with that maddening confidence. "I think I know you better than anyone."

"Fuck you, Theo," I hissed, but my voice lacked the conviction I wanted it to have. My body was betraying me, leaning into him despite my better judgment.

His hand came up to my face, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "You already did, remember?"

I slapped his hand away, my breath coming in short, angry bursts. "You think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you please? Think again."

With that, I turned sharply on my heel, storming into my dorm and slamming the door behind me. I leaned against it, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but all I could see was Theo's face, that infuriating smirk, and the way his eyes burned into mine.

Damn him. Damn him for getting under my skin. Damn him for making me feel this way. And damn him for being so damn irresistible.

I slid down to the floor, my back against the door, trying to catch my breath and steady my wild emotions. But it was no use. Theo had always had this effect on me, and no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was hopelessly, irrevocably drawn to him.

"Yes, I know," I whispered to myself as I leaned against the door, the memories flooding back.

It was our last week before returning to Hogwarts. We were at a family dinner, as usual, but everything felt different. We weren't the same children who used to run in the garden without a care in the world.

Something had changed that year. The way I looked at Theo, the thoughts I had about him—it was all so different. And I could feel it too—the way he looked at me, how he kept finding excuses to hold my hand whenever he could.

The first kiss happened that night after dinner. We had slipped away from the adults, as we often did, but this time we weren't looking for a place to play or read a book. We wanted somewhere hidden, somewhere we could be alone. And when he finally kissed me, it felt like everything in my world shifted.

From that night on, we sought each other out whenever we could.

A few nights later, we found ourselves hiding behind the library in his house. Theo had his arms around me, his lips trailing soft kisses down my neck. "We shouldn’t be doing this," I murmured, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he whispered against my skin.

I didn’t tell him to stop.

We were both addicted to the danger, the thrill of sneaking around, the way our hearts raced whenever we were together. Every touch, every kiss, only made me fall deeper for him.

One afternoon, I was supposed to be helping my parents prepare for a party for the Nott family, but instead, i found myself on a quiet spot in the attic. The old, dusty space was filled with forgotten trinkets and childhood memories, but all I could focus on was Theo.

He pinned me gently against a stack of old trunks, his hands framing my face. "I’ve been thinking about this all day," he confessed before his lips claimed mine.

The attic became our secret hideaway, a place where we could be together without prying eyes. We spent hours up there, kissing, talking, just being with each other. It was intoxicating, and I didn’t want it to end.

Then came this night, the night that changed my life forever, my parents were out of town. I had been feeling particularly vulnerable and overwhelmed, my emotions getting the better of me. Without thinking, I picked up my phone and called Theodore, my voice breaking as I asked him to come over.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive. He showed up at my door, concern etched on his face. ”Baby, what happened?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice trembling. “I just...I needed to see you.”

Theo wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as I cried into his chest. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His presence was comforting, and he did as he promised he stayed with me throughout it all and as my sobs subsided, I pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes.

Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him, a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as he responded.

“I think, I think I’m ready” I whispered against his lips, my heart pounding.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice steady. “I want this. I want you.”

He nodded, and then his lips were on mine again, more insistent this time. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me up the stairs to my bedroom. He laid me down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.

“We can stop anytime,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness. “Just say the word.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I replied, my hands reaching up to pull him closer.

He kissed me again, his hands gentle as they explored my body. He took his time, his touch slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing every inch of me. His lips trailed kisses down my neck, making me shiver with anticipation.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

“I won’t,” I assured him, my voice breathless.

His hands moved lower, slipping under my shirt and lifting it over my head. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of me, and then his lips were on mine again, his kiss filled with a hunger that mirrored my own.

He undressed me slowly, his touch reverent, and I did the same to him, my fingers trembling slightly. When we were both naked, he paused, looking down at me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

“Make love to me, Theo,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He nodded, positioning himself above me. “This might hurt a little,” he said gently. “But I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“I trust you,” I replied, my eyes locked on his.

He entered me slowly, his movements careful and controlled. There was a moment of pain, but it quickly faded, replaced by a sensation that was unlike anything I had ever felt before. He moved with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes, his touch soft and loving.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort to hold back.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

He continued, his pace slow and steady, his eyes never leaving mine. “You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “So perfect.”

My hands clutched at his back, pulling him closer. “Theo,” I moaned, my voice trembling with pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, his movements becoming more urgent. “I’m right here.”

The world seemed to dissolve around us, leaving only the two of us, connected in a way that went beyond physical. As we moved together, I felt something deeper than anything I had ever experienced. I was so madly in love with that man.

When it was over, he held me close, our bodies still entwined. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. It was a night I would never forget, a night that changed everything.

As the hours passed, he played with my hair, his fingers gently untangling the strands. He whispered sweet nothings, kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, until I finally drifted off to sleep in his arms.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Theo watching me, his expression soft and filled with something that made my heart ache. He smiled when he noticed I was awake, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured.

“Morning,” I replied, my voice still groggy with sleep. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Not long,” he said, though the look in his eyes told me otherwise.

He stayed with me for a while, talking and laughing like we always did, but eventually, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and sighed. “It’s my father. I have to go.”

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. “Will you call me later?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning down to kiss me one last time. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

But he never did. I called him, texted him, but all my messages went unanswered. They were marked as read, but there was no response. Days turned into weeks, and my heart grew heavier with each passing day. I reread my messages, hoping for some kind of clue, but there was nothing.

From Y/N:

- _Hey Theo, just wanted to see if you're okay. Miss you._

- _Theo, why aren't you answering? Did I do something wrong?_

- _Please, Theo, talk to me. I'm worried._

- _Theo, what's going on? I need to know._

All my messages were left on seen, the silence a crushing weight on my chest.

A week later, my family visited his mansion, my parents were discussing some business with his.

I saw Theo across the room, his demeanor cold and distant. As I approached him, he turned and walked away.

“Theodore!” I called, running after him. He stopped and turned to face me, his expression unreadable.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” he said, his voice formal and detached.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Why are you acting like this?”

He sighed, looking away. “I think it’s best if we keep our distance.”

“What? Why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said coldly. “I just don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm.

He pulled away. “I do. It was a mistake, Y/N. We were never meant to be.”

I felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

He glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “You need to leave,” he said, his voice low and harsh.

“Leave? Theo, please, just tell me what I did wrong,” I begged, tears streaming down my face.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his eyes hardening. “But this...whatever we had, it’s over. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” I repeated, my voice breaking. “You said you loved me.”

“I lied,” he said, his words cutting deep. “It was just...a game. You meant nothing to me.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, his eyes cold. “Now leave, before you embarrass yourself further.”

Remembering all of this brought a fresh wave of pain. Theo had been my first, my everything, and he had shattered my heart with his cruel words. Even now, I couldn't understand why he had pushed me away so suddenly, so harshly. The love we had shared felt real, but his actions told a different story.

I woke up the next morning with dark circles under my eyes, a testament to the sleepless night I’d endured. Theo’s words and the tension between us kept replaying in my mind, preventing any chance of rest. As I dragged myself out of bed, I heard a soft knock on my door.

“Y/N?” It was Sam. He peeked his head in, concern etched across his face. “Hey, you okay?”

I attempted a smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

Sam stepped inside, holding out a small, delicate flower. “I thought this might cheer you up,” he said, his voice gentle.

I took the flower, my smile more genuine this time. “Thank you, Sam. It’s beautiful.”

He leaned in and kissed my cheek, a simple, sweet gesture but it felt too wrong too painful. “We’re all going to the Black Lake this weekend. You should come with us.”

My smile faltered slightly. “I don’t know, Sam. I’m not really a fan of the water.”

He looked into my eyes, his expression sincere. “You need to trust me, Y/N. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I held his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity but found none. “Alright,” I said softly. “I’ll think about it.”

---

The thought of going to the Black Lake filled me with a deep sense of dread. The memory of my childhood accident still haunted me. I was just seven years old, on a family boat trip. It was supposed to be a fun day out on the ocean, but everything went horribly wrong. I had been playing near the edge of the boat when I slipped and fell into the water.

I remember the sensation of being engulfed by the icy depths, my tiny body thrashing as I tried to stay afloat. Panic gripped me as water filled my lungs, and I felt myself being pulled under, deeper and deeper. Just when I thought I couldn’t hold on any longer, I felt a strong arm wrap around me, yanking me back to the surface.

It was my father. He had dived in after me, risking his own life to save mine. Even now, I can recall the terror in his eyes as he pulled me back onto the boat, both of us coughing and gasping for air. Since that day, I couldn’t bear the thought of being near deep water. The fear was ingrained in me, a scar that refused to fade.

---

That weekend, despite my apprehension, I found myself walking with Sam toward the Black Lake. He had been so kind and insistent, and a part of me wanted to overcome my fear, to trust him.

As we approached the lake, I felt my heart begin to race. The water, seemed to stretch out endlessly before me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

Then I spotted Theodore, Mattheo, Enzo, and Blaise. My heart skipped a beat, anger flaring up inside me. I turned to Sam, my eyes narrowing.

"You never told me Theodore would be here," I said, my voice low and controlled.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "He comes every weekend. Why?"

I glared at him, feeling a surge of frustration. "You could have mentioned it."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "What’s the big deal, Y/N? Got some unresolved issues with Nott?"

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. "It’s none of your business, Sam."

He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "Oh, come on. We all know your dad works for the Nott family. Did he fuck you all this time then decided he got bored and left you high and dry?"

My face burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, his tone mocking. "Your dad works for the Nott family, right? So, did Theo take advantage of that? Did he screw you because he knew you were easy prey? Or you are obsessed with the idea of rich boy forbid? Is that why you’re so hung up on him?"

My blood boiled at his words. Before I knew it, my hand had connected with his cheek, the sound echoing across the lake. Sam’s eyes widened in shock, his hand coming up to his face.

"You’re disgusting," I spat, turning to leave.

As I tried to walk away, Aiden and a group of Slytherins appeared, blocking my path. Aiden smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. "What’s the matter, Y/N? Did Sam fail to get the tea from you? Maybe you can just tell us what happened between you and Nott."

I felt a wave of panic rising, my breath coming faster. "Leave me alone," I said, my voice trembling.

Aiden stepped closer, his expression predatory. "Or what? You’ll run to Nott for help?" He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "We all know how that ended, don’t we?"

I tried to back away, but I was at the edge of the bridge, the cold water of the lake below me. My heart raced, fear gripping me as I remembered the accident from my childhood.

Aiden’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "My bad. I think we need to calm you down a bit."

Before I could react, he shoved me, the force sending me over the edge. I fell into the lake, the cold water engulfing me. Panic set in immediately as I struggled to keep my head above water. The memories of nearly drowning as a child flooded my mind, making it hard to breathe.

I kicked and thrashed, trying to reach the surface, but the weight of my clothes and the sheer panic made it difficult.

I could hear laughter from above, the sound distorted by the water. My vision blurred as I fought to stay conscious, my lungs burning for air.

Just when I thought I couldn’t hold on any longer, strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me to the surface. I gasped for air, coughing and spluttering.

“Shhhh I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a lifeline.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” I gasped, panic making my voice high and shaky.

“Look at me, Y/N. Breathe with me, okay? In and out, slowly,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady and I looked to found Theo eyes on mine his hands wrapping around me.

I clung to him, my body trembling. "Theo, I—I can’t..."

“It’s okay. Baby I've got you, and I won't let go." he whispered, his arms steadying me. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around me, shielding me from the horrified stares of the others.

his breath warm against my ear. His hands gently pushed the wet hair from my face, his touch grounding me. "Look at me, Y/N. Just focus on me."

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shirt as if letting go would mean falling back into the abyss. "I’m so scared," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"I know," he said softly, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that steadied my frantic heart. "I’m here focus on my voice. You're going to be alright, I promise.

“I’m right here with you baby” His words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, and I felt a sob rise in my throat.

I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing hard. The memory of nearly drowning as a child flooded back, amplifying my terror. He held me tightly, his presence grounding me, gently rubbed my back, whispering soothing words in my ear.

He swam us to the shore, his strength unwavering. Once we were on solid ground, he wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. The other students stood around us, their expressions a mix of shock and guilt.

Aiden’s voice cut through the moment, defensive and unapologetic. “I didn’t know she couldn’t swim.”

Before I could react, Mattheo’s fist connected with Aiden’s face, the sound sharp and satisfying. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Mattheo snarled, stepping closer to Aiden.

Theo ignored the commotion, his focus entirely on me. "It's okay," he murmured, kissing the top of my head. "I've got you."

He lifted me into his arms effortlessly and began walking away from the lake, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. I clung to him, my tears soaking his shirt.

He brought me to a small, secluded cottage near the edge of the castle grounds. He pushed open the door and carried me inside, laying me gently on the bed.

"Stay here," he said softly, brushing a tear from my cheek. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a warm hoodie, then turned back to me. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. He helped me out of my dress and pulled the hoodie over my head, the fabric soft and comforting against my skin.

Theo sat on the ground beside the bed, holding my hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry.

I shook my head, feeling the tears welling up again. “No, I’m not,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “They were right, you know. It’s just... I never thought of it like that.”

He looked confused, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “They said you fucked with me and then left when it got boring. And that’s true. They also said my father works for your family, which is also true. I got so caught up in the fairytale and our childhood memories that I forgot my place. Our families aren’t friends, Theo. We work for you. I was just a stupid girl thinking I could be something more for you.”

His face twisted in pain. “Y/N, that’s not how it is at all.”

I shook my head, my tears flowing freely now. “But it is. I’m just the daughter of your family’s servant. I was delusional to think you could ever see me as anything else. You had your fun, and then you threw me away like I meant nothing. And now everyone knows it. I’m just the girl who was stupid enough to fall for the rich boy who would never actually care about her.”

He didn’t let me finish. He leaned in and kissed me, his lips capturing mine with a desperate intensity. It was a kiss filled with all the longing and regret that had built up over the years. It was as if he had waited his entire life for this moment, and he was pouring everything he felt into it. His hands cradled my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears as he kissed me deeply, passionately, like he was afraid to let go.

The world seemed to blur around us, and all I could feel was Theo. His warmth, his strength, his love. It was overwhelming, and I clung to him, losing myself in the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.

"Why did you do that?" I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I don’t know," he said, his voice equally soft.

"I don’t understand," I said, searching his eyes for answers.

"I know," he replied, his eyes red-rimmed.

I cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. But he pushed my hands away, his expression hardening. "The further you are from me, the better it is for you," he said, his voice rough.

I stood up, my anger flaring again. "You're doing this again! You're a fucking coward, Theo!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, standing up to face me.

"Yeah, you're right," I shot back. "Because you don't fucking explain anything! I’ve been punished for something I don't even know!"

"Maybe if you weren’t so naive, you’d understand," he retorted, his words cutting deep.

"Naive? Is that what you think? That I’m some clueless girl who can't see what's right in front of her?" I yelled, feeling tears of frustration burning my eyes.

"You were never supposed to get involved," he shouted, his voice shaking. "This was all a mistake."

"A mistake?" I echoed, my voice breaking. "You think everything we had was a mistake? You're pathetic, Theo. Running away from everything because you're too scared to face it."

He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. "You think it's that simple? You think I wanted this? I was trying to protect you!"

"By pushing me away? By treating me like I meant nothing?" I screamed, my hands shaking as I grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it against the wall, the shards scattering across the floor.

"I hate you," I spat, my voice trembling with emotion. "I hate you so much."

Without warning, Theo grabbed me, his lips crashing down on mine with a ferocity that took my breath away. Our mouths collided in a furious, desperate kiss, filled with anger and longing. He pushed me back against the wall, his hands roaming my body with an intensity that made my head spin.

His lips moved to my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "I hate you too," he growled, his words muffled then he kissed me again and harder. "I hate how much I need you."

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. "Then show me," I whispered against his lips. "Show me how much you hate me."

His response was immediate, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed his body against mine. His lips moved back to mine, and I could taste the salt of my tears mixed with the desperation in his kiss.

His lips never left mine as he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the table. His kiss was fierce, almost punishing, as if he was trying to erase every hurtful word we had hurled at each other. He set me down, his lips wet and swollen from our furious kiss, his hands immediately parting my legs, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and desire.

“I hate you,” I whispered again, my voice trembling with need.

“Good,” he growled, his fingers gripping my thighs as he lowered his head between my legs. “Hate me more.”

He spread my legs wider and took my panties off, his hands gripping my thighs with a bruising intensity.

His tongue found my clit with precision, flicking and circling in a way that made my body jolt. “Oh god, Theo,” I moaned, my hands clutching the edge of the table.

He looked up at me, his eyes blazing. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you___,” I gasped, my body arching as his tongue delved deeper. “I hate you so much.”

“Say it again,” he demanded, his tongue sliding through my folds, teasing and tormenting.

“I hate you, Theo,” I cried out, my voice breaking as pleasure coursed through me. “Please, don’t stop.”

He sucked on my clit, his fingers slipping inside me, stretching and filling me in a way that made me see stars. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered, his voice vibrating against me.

He increased his pace, his tongue working me with a relentless intensity. My hips bucked against his mouth, chasing the pleasure that was building inside me.

I gasped, my hands clutching the edge of the table as his tongue flicked out, teasing me.I cried out, my body arching off the table as he licked and sucked with an intensity that bordered on punishing.

“Taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

His tongue worked with relentless precision, finding every spot that made me tremble. He licked up my arousal, his mouth moving in a way that made me see stars. “Theo,” I moaned, my voice desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”

He grunted in response, his tongue plunging deeper, his lips wrapping around my clit and sucking hard. I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him closer. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. “I want to see your face when you come.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to handle, and it pushed me closer to the edge. “Theo, I’m going to—”

“Come for me baby,” he demanded, his tongue flicking rapidly over my clit. “Scream my name.”

With a strangled cry, I came, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. “Theo,” I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls. “Oh my god, Theo.”

He didn’t stop until I was trembling, every nerve ending on fire. When he finally pulled away, his face was flushed, his lips glistening with my arousal. A satisfied smirk on his face.

Leaning down to kiss me, moving his lips with a slow, deliberate intensity that made my knees weak. His hands gently cupped my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as he deepened the kiss. When he finally pulled away, he trailed soft kisses down my jaw, his breath hot against my skin.

"We should stop," he murmured against my neck, his voice low and husky.

I felt my heart racing, my body tingling from his touch. "Do you want to stop?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back to look into my eyes, his gaze intense. "No," he said simply, before capturing my lips again in a fervent kiss.

His hands roamed down my body, pulling me closer. "Have you slept with anybody else after that night?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

I shook my head, my breath hitching as I kissed him. "No," I whispered against his lips.

I pulled back slightly, my eyes searching his. "What about you?" I asked, my voice trembling.

A slow smile spread across his face. "I didn't," he said softly, brushing his lips over mine.

"You’re kidding," I said, my disbelief evident in my voice.

"No," he replied, his tone serious. "Kiss me, and you'll see I'm not."

He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me over to the bed. Then set me down gently, his hands slipping under my hoodie. He pulled it over my head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of me. He kissed me again, his lips soft and insistent, moving from my lips to my neck.

"I didn't," he murmured between kisses, his mouth trailing lower. "I didn't even kiss another woman." He kissed the hollow of my throat, his hands caressing my sides. "Not even in my head." His lips brushed over my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine.

Moving lower, kissing a trail down my stomach. "Not even in my dreams," he whispered against my skin, each word punctuated by a kiss.

I arched my back, my body aching for more. My fingers tangling in his hair.

He looked up at me. "Because I only wanted one girl," he said softly. "And even the thought of looking at another by mistake feels like betraying her."

I giggled softly, my breath hitching. "Who is she?"

He smirked, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my clit. "I think you know her pretty well."

"Do I?" I asked, my voice catching as his touch sent shivers through me.

"Very much," he murmured, his fingers pressing harder, making my hips buck. "She's the only one who makes me feel like this."

I held onto his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he continued to tease me.

"Theo," I breathed, my voice trembling with need.

"If this is hate, then hate me harder." he teased, his fingers circling my clit in slow, deliberate movements.

"Shut up," I breathed, my voice trembling. "Just...do this already."

He paused, his fingers stilling. "Do what, my love?" he asked, his eyes locking onto mine.

"You know," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Fuck you, you mean?"

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He kissed me softly, his lips gentle against mine as he positioned himself above me. "I'll be gentle," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.

Theo positioned himself between my legs, his eyes locking with mine. He entered me slowly, his movements gentle and controlled, making sure I felt every inch of him. My breath hitched, and I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

His movements careful and deliberate. There was a brief moment of discomfort, but it quickly faded into a sensation of fullness that made me gasp.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Yes," I breathed, my hands clutching at his shoulders. "Just...go slow."

He nodded, his movements gentle and controlled as he began to thrust. His lips found mine, kissing me deeply as he moved inside me. Each thrust was deliberate, his pace slow and steady, giving me time to adjust.

He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me if it’s too much."

"It’s perfect," I breathed, my body trembling with each thrust.

He kissed me tenderly, his movements gentle and loving. "You say you hate me, huh?," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.

"I do," I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips. "I hate you."

He chuckled softly, his pace increasing slightly. "You’re lying," he teased, his breath hot against my skin.

"Maybe," I admitted, my voice breathless. "Just a little."

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside me that made me cry out. "Just a little you say?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

"Yes," I gasped, my nails digging into his back.

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Moan for me, louder."

I could feel the pressure building inside me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. "Theo," I moaned, my body arching against his.

“Mine, all mine." he murmured, his movements becoming more erratic. "Come for me, love."

I cried out, my body convulsing with pleasure. Theo followed soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he reached his climax. He moaned my name, his voice filled with raw emotion.

When it was over, he collapsed beside me, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He kissed me gently, his lips soft and tender against mine. Then he rested his forehead against my stomach, placing a soft kiss on my skin.

I held him close, my fingers running through his hair. "Theo," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion.

He looked up at me, his eyes red and filled with an intensity that took my breath away. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you hate me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me you feel nothing for me."

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. "I can't," I said softly, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. "I can't."

Pushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was tender, but the intensity in his eyes was almost unbearable. I felt a lump in my throat as I tried to hold back tears. "But do you? Have you ever felt anything for me?" I cried, my voice breaking.

He cupped my face, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. "You’re the only one in this damn world I care about," he said, his voice raw and sincere. "I will always put you first, even if it means I have to watch as hate me slowly."

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. "I don’t hate you, Theodore."

"You should," he said softly, his eyes filled with pain. "You really should."

"No," I whispered, my hands gripping his arms. "I know you. I know you would never hurt me like that. There’s something you’re not telling me."

He looked away, but I made him look at me, my hands on either side of his face. "Please don’t leave me. Please don’t do that to me again."

His eyes softened, and he gently wiped away my tears. "Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry."

"Then tell me what’s going on," I pleaded, my voice trembling.

"My father," he began, his voice low and rough. "He acts like a gentleman, but he's not. I never got the chance to know my mother because of him. I know it's his fault she's gone. He took her from me." Tears filled my eyes as I listened.

"Theo, I'm so sorry," I whispered.

He shook his head. "I lost her, and I can't lose you too. My father figured out there was something between us, and he made it clear that if I kept seeing you, he would end you and your family."

I gasped, my heart pounding. "Theo, no..."

"You don't know what a Death Eater can do," he said, his voice filled with dread. "But I do, and I would never put you in that kind of risk."

"But you should have told me," I said, my voice breaking. "It's not your decision to make for me."

"You don't deserve that," he insisted, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Neither do you," I said firmly, wrapping my arms around him.

Theo pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. I cried, my tears soaking his shirt. He stroked my hair, his touch gentle and soothing.

"I thought I was protecting you," he murmured into my hair. "I thought it was the only way to keep you safe."

He held me in his arms, trying to comfort me, but I couldn't stop shaking. "I don't want you to push me away. Please, I can't do this anymore," I pleaded, my voice rising in panic.

He tried to calm me, but my panic wouldn’t subside. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my heart racing.

"Please, don’t leave me," I begged again, my words nearly incoherent through my sobs.

"Shh, baby, please," he murmured, but I couldn't calm down. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my vision blurring with tears.

"Look at me," he said, cupping my face in his hands. "Look at me, baby."

I tried to focus on his eyes, my body trembling. "I won't, I promise," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

"You promise?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his eyes intense and unwavering. "I promise, my love."

I started to breathe more evenly, his presence calming my frantic heart. "What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice small and fearful.

"Whatever it takes," he replied, his determination unshakable.

I looked at him, my fear palpable. "You won’t put yourself in danger, will you?"

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. "You worry about me?"

"Of course I do," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m not going to," he assured me. "I’m getting stronger. I think he’ll be more afraid to lose his heir. I won’t let him do anything to you. Not now, not ever."

"I’m also sorry you had to go through what happened today," he added, his voice full of regret. "I know how scary it must have been."

I shivered, remembering the icy grip of the lake. "I should have listened to you when you told me about Sam."

Theo tightened his hold on me. "That fucker Sam," he muttered darkly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a small, nervous giggle escaping my lips. Theo looked at me, his brows furrowing. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, puzzled.

"I think you were jealous," I said, still smiling.

"Damn right I was," he admitted, a fierce glint in his eyes. "And he's going to wish he’d never been born."

I couldn't resist teasing him further. "Jealous of Sam? Really, Theo?" I said playfully, poking his chest. "He’s harmless."

"Harmless?" Theo growled, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me closer. "You have no idea what seeing you with him did to me."

I looked up at him, mischief dancing in my eyes. "Oh, come on, Theo. Are you telling me the great Theodore Nott was jealous of Sam?"

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "You think it's funny, do you?"

I giggled, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Maybe a little."

In a swift motion, Theo grabbed me, pulling me closer. I squealed with delight, my laughter filling the room. His arms encircled me, strong and secure, and I melted into his embrace. He held me tightly, his warmth enveloping me like a blanket.

"You think you can tease me and get away with it?" he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

I nuzzled my face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. "Maybe," I whispered, my voice soft and teasing.

Theo's grip tightened, and I could feel his smile against my skin. "You're playing a dangerous game, love."

I giggled again, my breath hitching slightly. "With you, it’s always worth it."

He pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering. "I love you," he whispered, the words a gentle caress against my skin.

My smile faltered, surprise washing over me. "You do?" I whispered back, my voice trembling.

Theo pulled back slightly to look into my eyes, his expression soft and unwavering. "Yeah," he said, his voice filled with certainty. "Always have, always will."

"Say that again," I breathed, needing to hear the words one more time.

"I love you," he said, leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips. "I love you," he repeated, another kiss following. "I love you," he murmured, his hands framing my face as he lowered me gently onto the bed.

His kisses were tender yet filled with an intensity that made my heart race. As he hovered above me, his eyes locked onto mine, I could see the depth of his feelings reflected in their dark depths.

"I love you," he whispered once more, his breath mingling with mine.

"I love you too," I replied, my voice choked with emotion.

Theo's hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His gaze held mine, unwavering and full of promise. "We’ll get through this," he vowed softly.

I nodded, a tearful smile spreading across my face, he kissed me again, slow and deliberate, each kiss a reaffirmation of his love and commitment. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Tag list : ( if you wanted to be added)

@maxsisly @abeoavita

Theodore Masterlist

[sadnymi]

I love you, I’m sorry.

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

•Words: 3.7

•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.

The heavy thud of the door closing behind you echoed through the small flat, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the emptiness of your chest. You kicked off your shoes, not caring where they landed, and stumbled into your room. Your head swirled with the echoes of the interview panel's cold words: "You're not ready." "You should work on yourself." "Your anxiety makes it difficult to see you in this role."

The sting of those words felt sharper with every step you took. You sank down onto the floor the moment you reached your bed, your back pressing against the chipped wooden frame as the tears came, unstoppable. Hot and unrelenting, they poured down your cheeks, your breaths coming in shallow, erratic gasps as if the air itself had turned against you.

You felt like a failure—to yourself, to your family. They had been so proud when you graduated, certain you’d find your place in the world. But instead, you were here, stuck, unable to move forward. The thought of their disappointed faces made your stomach twist. You clutched your arms tightly around yourself, as though holding your own body together could stop the sharp ache radiating from within.

The sobs came harder now, a raw, guttural sound tearing from your throat as the despair fully took hold. It wasn’t just the failed interviews, though they were enough to crack anyone. It was the suffocating loneliness that wrapped itself around you like a second skin. It was the nagging thought that you were useless, that everyone who had ever believed in you had been wrong. You pressed your forehead against your knees, your breaths shallow and quick, your chest tightening to the point of pain. For a moment, you genuinely felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the weight of your own existence was crushing you.

Your tear-filled eyes roamed aimlessly, desperate for something to anchor yourself, when they landed on the edge of a wooden box poking out from beneath your bed. The sight of it pierced through the haze of anguish, stopping you cold. You wiped at your face with trembling hands, sniffling as you reached forward and dragged the box into the light.

You stared at it, your fingers hesitating on the lid. You hadn’t opened it in so long, not since you shoved it under the bed on your first night back from Hogwarts. But you knew exactly what was inside. This was where you had hidden everything—every letter, every photograph, every fragment of a life you had tried to forget. A life that included him.

Every piece inside belonged to him—letters folded in his messy handwriting, scraps of notes passed between classes, a familiar hoodie you’d stolen from him one night after a party, a forgotten tie he’d wrapped around your wrist one summer night when he joked about marking you as his.

Your trembling fingers brushed over a photograph of the two of you ,you were laughing in the picture, and he was staring at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

The ache in your chest tightened.

You remembered how he lied to you, how he swore it was to protect you, but it hadn’t mattered. You’d told him how much you hated liars, how much their betrayals gutted you, yet he’d hidden the truth anyway.

He’d found his father’s diary—the relic of a dark legacy he was desperate to escape. He’d told no one, not even you, and when you’d discovered it, it felt like every fear you’d ever had about him came crashing down. He’d been protecting you, yes, but he’d also betrayed the fragile trust you’d built.

You grabbed the hoodie, It was his scent that hit you first, faint and faded but still undeniably him. You clutched the hoodie to your chest, your body trembling as a sob tore through you. Pulling it over your head, you sank to the floor again, letting the fabric drown you in the warmth you’d once felt in his arms.

Even after everything, even knowing he’d chosen you over the darkness of his family, you had left him. You left because looking at him reminded you of every betrayal, every lie you’d ever endured. He’d chosen you, but you couldn’t handle the weight of his choices, the scars they left on him and you. You couldn’t stay, even when you needed him more than anything even when he needed you more than anything .

He chosen you he fight his father he stand with the people who hate him since he was a child and proved them all wrong.

"I did it for you," he had said, voice broken and desperate the night you walked away. "I’ve always done it for you."

And yet, you left. You had to.

Now, sitting in the remnants of what you’d once been together, the pain in your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You had to get out.

you left the house. The rain was relentless, cold and sharp as it soaked through your clothes, but you didn’t care. You didn’t take an umbrella, didn’t even glance back at the house. You just walked, aimless at first, the streets blurring around you as the tears mixed with the rain.

But you knew where you were going. You always did.

You’d asked Theo once, offhandedly, where Mattheo lived now. He’d told you.

You had no right to show up there, no right to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal, but your feet carried you forward anyway.

When you reached his house, your heart pounded so hard it drowned out the rain. You stood at the gate, soaked and trembling, staring at the door as if it might open on its own. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the button for the intercom, the static buzzing in your ear as you tried to find the words.

"Mattheo," you said, your voice cracking. "This is Y/N. Can... can you..." The words died in your throat, and you clenched your fists. "No. Forget it." You stepped back, shaking your head, your tears blending with the rain.

But you couldn’t leave. You turned back, pressing the button again, your voice desperate now. "Mattheo, please. Can you open the door? I just—I just want to see you."

Nothing.

You pressed the button a third time, your voice breaking completely. "I know I shouldn’t be here. I know I left, and I hurt you. But I—I couldn’t stop thinking —— just please, Mattheo. Just—just let me see you."

The silence on the other end felt deafening. You thought you might collapse right there, your chest tight and your heart threatening to shatter. He didn’t want to see you. He wasn’t going to open the door.

You turned to leave, your steps heavy and reluctant as you walked back down the path.

Then you saw him.

He was just getting out of a car, his movements freezing when his eyes landed on you. His name was on your lips, but no sound came out. You stopped in your tracks, drenched and trembling, staring at him as he stared back.

"Y/N," he whispered, he looked at you like you were a ghost, his dark eyes scanning your tear-streaked face, your shaking frame. "What the hell...?"

He dropped whatever he was holding and walked toward you. "What are you doing here? You're soaked. You're—"

"I..." Your voice broke, and the words stuck in your throat. "I didn’t know where else to go."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw the storm of emotions behind his eyes—anger, worry, confusion, and something softer, something that made your heart ache even more.

He sighed, running a hand down his face before stepping closer. "Come inside," he said finally, his voice softer now, though the tension remained.

When you hesitated, he frowned. "Y/N, you’re soaked. You’ll get sick."

His hand brushed your arm, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the rain.

The moment he closed the door behind you, his sharp eyes immediately landed on the hoodie you were wearing—_his hoodie._ His jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered with something unreadable before he drew in a breath.

"I’m going to need you to take that off," he said, "You’re soaked, and you’re shaking. I’ll grab you something else to wear."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already moving

You stood frozen, still clutching the edges of the hoodie like a lifeline as he returned with a thick, soft blanket and a dry sweater. He didn’t look at you directly as he placed them on the back of a chair. "Take the hoodie off," he said again, softer this time. "You’ll catch pneumonia like this."

You hesitated, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I’m serious. Change into this and sit by the fire. I’ll make some tea or... something."

He walked away, his shoulders stiff, leaving you to do as he asked. When he returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a towel slung over his arm, you had swapped the hoodie for the sweater he’d left. He stopped short when he saw you curled up near the fire, your knees pulled to your chest. His expression softened, but his walls remained up.

"Better?" he asked, crouching beside you and placing the mug on the table.

You nodded, though your trembling hands gave you away. He reached for the towel, pausing for a moment before gently patting your hair dry. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if touching you might shatter you—or him.

"You shouldn’t have come out in the rain like that," he said, his tone low and even, though there was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I just... I needed to see you."

He stilled, his hand lingering near your shoulder before pulling away entirely. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself.

"Do you remember… second year? When you found me crying in the Astronomy Tower after I got a C in my Transfiguration exam?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I remember."

"I’d been trying so hard," you said, the words tumbling out in a fragile rush. "I was so scared of disappointing everyone—my professors, my parents. But you… you just sat with me. You didn’t say anything at first, and then you started telling me about the time you nearly set your own robes on fire in Charms class."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, so faint you almost missed it. "I still have the scorch marks on this tie somewhere."

The silence stretched between you after your confession, the only sounds in the room coming from the rain hammering against the windows and the soft crackle of the fire. Mattheo’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

You looked at him, your throat tightening. "That’s what you did, Mattheo. You were always there for me. Always knew what to say, what to do to make me feel like I wasn’t drowning."

The words hung in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time. His face darkened, and his jaw clenched.

"And I wasn’t there for you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not when it mattered. Not when you needed me."

Mattheo stood abruptly, the motion sharp and full of barely contained anger. He paced a few steps away, his hands raking through his hair before he turned back to you, his eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with a fury that.

"I—"

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharper now. "Why are you here? After everything? After _you_ left, after you tore me apart and acted like I was nothing to you?"

"Mattheo, please," you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

"No!" he snapped. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere, wearing my hoodie, dredging up memories, and—" His voice cracked, and he turned away, raking his hands through his hair.

You flinched at his words, your breath hitching. "I—I don’t know," you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. "I was hurt too!"

His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You were hurt?" he snapped, his voice rising. "You left, Y/N. You fucking _left_. When I needed you most, you walked away. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea how it felt? to lose you—too?"

"Do you even know what it felt like Mattheo? Thinking you betrayed me? Thinking you were just like everyone else who lied, who hid things from me? I thought you were protecting them—not me. And it broke me, Mattheo. It broke everything I thought we had."

He froze, his chest rising and falling heavily, but his expression didn’t soften.

His jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as his fists clenched at his sides. "You think I wasn’t broken too?" he snapped. "I _lost everything,_ Y/N. My family, my name—everything. And I didn’t care, because I chose _you_. And you left anyway"

Your heart shattered at his words, but you forced yourself to speak. "I was scared! I didn’t know how to stay, Mattheo. I thought—I thought I’d just make everything worse."

His laugh was bitter, cutting through you like a knife. "You did," he said coldly. "You made everything worse by running away."

“I felt like I was responsible for your pain,” you said, choking on the words. “Your choice, your loss—it felt like my fault. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I didn’t know how to face you without seeing everything I thought I’d destroyed.”

“Do you hear yourself? You left because _you_ couldn’t deal with _my_ pain? That’s rich, Y/N. Real fucking rich.”

“You have every right to hate me,” you said, your voice breaking. “I was wrong. God, I was so wrong. But it’s happened, Mattheo. And somehow, I’m still here, breathing, hurting. I look at myself, and I see everything I’ve ruined. Look at me.” You gestured to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “Look at how fucked up I am. I wasn’t strong enough to stay, and now I’m barely holding it together. It’s like some fucked-up punishment, but I deserve it.”

He stared at you, his expression hard, unmoving.

“You think this is about you deserving punishment?” he said, his voice laced with venom. “You think your guilt makes this better for me?

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling as his words stabbed deeper. “Mattheo, stop—”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to stop,” he shot back. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you care now.”

“I love you!” you cried, the words ripping from your throat. “I love you, Mattheo. I always have, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He froze, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he might say something—might give you even a sliver of hope.

“Do you?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you met his eyes. “Do you still love me, Mattheo?”

The silence stretched between you, unbearable, suffocating. He looked at you, his breathing uneven, his jaw tight. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You can stay the night. You can’t go out in the rain like that and leave tomorrow.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, staring after him.

You watched him disappear down the hall, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the house. Your gaze drifted to the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a dull glow on the room.

You couldn’t stay. Not when he wouldn’t look at you, not when his words sliced through you like a blade, leaving wounds that felt too raw to ever heal. The fire crackled behind you as you stood by the door, frozen for a moment, before you gripped the handle and twisted it.

The rain greeted you with an icy embrace, drenching you instantly as you stepped outside. It poured relentlessly, soaking through your clothes and clinging to your skin as you stumbled down the path, your tears mingling with the rain.

Each step felt heavier than the last, your chest tightening with every sob that ripped through you. The cold bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache that clawed at your heart.

The rain blurred your vision, or maybe it was your tears. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care where you were going. You only knew that you couldn’t stay.

“You’re leaving again?”

The voice shattered the storm, sharp and rough, cutting through the pounding rain and your spiraling thoughts.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you turned. There he was, standing a few paces behind you, his hair drenched, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t name. Anger? Hurt? Desperation?

“You can’t just show up to leave again,” he said, his voice tight, low, and trembling with restraint as he stepped toward you.

“You told me to leave,” you choked out, your voice trembling as your tears spilled freely. “It doesn’t mattering it’s now or tomorrow.”

“Fuck, it does,” he snapped, running a hand through his wet hair as the rain continued to pour. “It does, Y/N.”

“What are you even saying?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, breaking under the weight of his words.

Mattheo took another step forward, his eyes blazing despite the rain streaking his face. He was trembling, not from the cold but from something far more volatile, far more vulnerable.

“Ask me again,” he said.

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“Ask me again, Y/N,” he demanded, his tone a mixture of desperation and fury. “Ask me if I still love you.”

Your heart stopped, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice breaking now. “Fucking ask me, Y/N.”

“Do you… do you still love me?” you finally whispered, the words fragile, trembling like you were.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

His hands grabbing your waist as he pulled you to him with a force that stole your breath. The kiss came hard and fast, his lips colliding with yours like he’d been starving for this moment. His hands were everywhere—cupping your face, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as though he could fuse your bodies together and make up for all the time you’d lost.

You gasped against his lips, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to hold onto something solid as he kissed you like his life depended on it. The rain poured harder, drenching you both, but you couldn’t feel the cold anymore—not with the heat of his lips, the way his tongue slid against yours, the way his hands gripped you like he was terrified you’d disappear again.

“Mattheo,” you whispered against his lips, but he didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t,” he muttered, as he broke the kiss just long enough to lift you off your feet. His hands slid to the backs of your thighs, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled you tighter against him, his lips finding yours again, this time slower but no less desperate.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Every word unsaid, every tear shed, every moment of longing you’d both endured. He kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of pain, anger, and love he’d carried into you, as though he could make you feel just how much he still wanted you, needed you.

“I hate you for leaving,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw, breaking with emotion. “But fuck, I love you too much to let you go again.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, tears mingling with the rain as you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

His forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing hard as the rain continued to pour, but neither of you cared.

[sadnymi]

I love you, I’m sorry.

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

•Words: 3.7

•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.

The heavy thud of the door closing behind you echoed through the small flat, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the emptiness of your chest. You kicked off your shoes, not caring where they landed, and stumbled into your room. Your head swirled with the echoes of the interview panel's cold words: "You're not ready." "You should work on yourself." "Your anxiety makes it difficult to see you in this role."

The sting of those words felt sharper with every step you took. You sank down onto the floor the moment you reached your bed, your back pressing against the chipped wooden frame as the tears came, unstoppable. Hot and unrelenting, they poured down your cheeks, your breaths coming in shallow, erratic gasps as if the air itself had turned against you.

You felt like a failure—to yourself, to your family. They had been so proud when you graduated, certain you’d find your place in the world. But instead, you were here, stuck, unable to move forward. The thought of their disappointed faces made your stomach twist. You clutched your arms tightly around yourself, as though holding your own body together could stop the sharp ache radiating from within.

The sobs came harder now, a raw, guttural sound tearing from your throat as the despair fully took hold. It wasn’t just the failed interviews, though they were enough to crack anyone. It was the suffocating loneliness that wrapped itself around you like a second skin. It was the nagging thought that you were useless, that everyone who had ever believed in you had been wrong. You pressed your forehead against your knees, your breaths shallow and quick, your chest tightening to the point of pain. For a moment, you genuinely felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the weight of your own existence was crushing you.

Your tear-filled eyes roamed aimlessly, desperate for something to anchor yourself, when they landed on the edge of a wooden box poking out from beneath your bed. The sight of it pierced through the haze of anguish, stopping you cold. You wiped at your face with trembling hands, sniffling as you reached forward and dragged the box into the light.

You stared at it, your fingers hesitating on the lid. You hadn’t opened it in so long, not since you shoved it under the bed on your first night back from Hogwarts. But you knew exactly what was inside. This was where you had hidden everything—every letter, every photograph, every fragment of a life you had tried to forget. A life that included him.

Every piece inside belonged to him—letters folded in his messy handwriting, scraps of notes passed between classes, a familiar hoodie you’d stolen from him one night after a party, a forgotten tie he’d wrapped around your wrist one summer night when he joked about marking you as his.

Your trembling fingers brushed over a photograph of the two of you ,you were laughing in the picture, and he was staring at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

The ache in your chest tightened.

You remembered how he lied to you, how he swore it was to protect you, but it hadn’t mattered. You’d told him how much you hated liars, how much their betrayals gutted you, yet he’d hidden the truth anyway.

He’d found his father’s diary—the relic of a dark legacy he was desperate to escape. He’d told no one, not even you, and when you’d discovered it, it felt like every fear you’d ever had about him came crashing down. He’d been protecting you, yes, but he’d also betrayed the fragile trust you’d built.

You grabbed the hoodie, It was his scent that hit you first, faint and faded but still undeniably him. You clutched the hoodie to your chest, your body trembling as a sob tore through you. Pulling it over your head, you sank to the floor again, letting the fabric drown you in the warmth you’d once felt in his arms.

Even after everything, even knowing he’d chosen you over the darkness of his family, you had left him. You left because looking at him reminded you of every betrayal, every lie you’d ever endured. He’d chosen you, but you couldn’t handle the weight of his choices, the scars they left on him and you. You couldn’t stay, even when you needed him more than anything even when he needed you more than anything .

He chosen you he fight his father he stand with the people who hate him since he was a child and proved them all wrong.

"I did it for you," he had said, voice broken and desperate the night you walked away. "I’ve always done it for you."

And yet, you left. You had to.

Now, sitting in the remnants of what you’d once been together, the pain in your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You had to get out.

you left the house. The rain was relentless, cold and sharp as it soaked through your clothes, but you didn’t care. You didn’t take an umbrella, didn’t even glance back at the house. You just walked, aimless at first, the streets blurring around you as the tears mixed with the rain.

But you knew where you were going. You always did.

You’d asked Theo once, offhandedly, where Mattheo lived now. He’d told you.

You had no right to show up there, no right to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal, but your feet carried you forward anyway.

When you reached his house, your heart pounded so hard it drowned out the rain. You stood at the gate, soaked and trembling, staring at the door as if it might open on its own. Taking a shaky breath, you pressed the button for the intercom, the static buzzing in your ear as you tried to find the words.

"Mattheo," you said, your voice cracking. "This is Y/N. Can... can you..." The words died in your throat, and you clenched your fists. "No. Forget it." You stepped back, shaking your head, your tears blending with the rain.

But you couldn’t leave. You turned back, pressing the button again, your voice desperate now. "Mattheo, please. Can you open the door? I just—I just want to see you."

Nothing.

You pressed the button a third time, your voice breaking completely. "I know I shouldn’t be here. I know I left, and I hurt you. But I—I couldn’t stop thinking —— just please, Mattheo. Just—just let me see you."

The silence on the other end felt deafening. You thought you might collapse right there, your chest tight and your heart threatening to shatter. He didn’t want to see you. He wasn’t going to open the door.

You turned to leave, your steps heavy and reluctant as you walked back down the path.

Then you saw him.

He was just getting out of a car, his movements freezing when his eyes landed on you. His name was on your lips, but no sound came out. You stopped in your tracks, drenched and trembling, staring at him as he stared back.

"Y/N," he whispered, he looked at you like you were a ghost, his dark eyes scanning your tear-streaked face, your shaking frame. "What the hell...?"

He dropped whatever he was holding and walked toward you. "What are you doing here? You're soaked. You're—"

"I..." Your voice broke, and the words stuck in your throat. "I didn’t know where else to go."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw the storm of emotions behind his eyes—anger, worry, confusion, and something softer, something that made your heart ache even more.

He sighed, running a hand down his face before stepping closer. "Come inside," he said finally, his voice softer now, though the tension remained.

When you hesitated, he frowned. "Y/N, you’re soaked. You’ll get sick."

His hand brushed your arm, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the rain.

The moment he closed the door behind you, his sharp eyes immediately landed on the hoodie you were wearing—_his hoodie._ His jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered with something unreadable before he drew in a breath.

"I’m going to need you to take that off," he said, "You’re soaked, and you’re shaking. I’ll grab you something else to wear."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already moving

You stood frozen, still clutching the edges of the hoodie like a lifeline as he returned with a thick, soft blanket and a dry sweater. He didn’t look at you directly as he placed them on the back of a chair. "Take the hoodie off," he said again, softer this time. "You’ll catch pneumonia like this."

You hesitated, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I’m serious. Change into this and sit by the fire. I’ll make some tea or... something."

He walked away, his shoulders stiff, leaving you to do as he asked. When he returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a towel slung over his arm, you had swapped the hoodie for the sweater he’d left. He stopped short when he saw you curled up near the fire, your knees pulled to your chest. His expression softened, but his walls remained up.

"Better?" he asked, crouching beside you and placing the mug on the table.

You nodded, though your trembling hands gave you away. He reached for the towel, pausing for a moment before gently patting your hair dry. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if touching you might shatter you—or him.

"You shouldn’t have come out in the rain like that," he said, his tone low and even, though there was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I just... I needed to see you."

He stilled, his hand lingering near your shoulder before pulling away entirely. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself.

"Do you remember… second year? When you found me crying in the Astronomy Tower after I got a C in my Transfiguration exam?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I remember."

"I’d been trying so hard," you said, the words tumbling out in a fragile rush. "I was so scared of disappointing everyone—my professors, my parents. But you… you just sat with me. You didn’t say anything at first, and then you started telling me about the time you nearly set your own robes on fire in Charms class."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, so faint you almost missed it. "I still have the scorch marks on this tie somewhere."

The silence stretched between you after your confession, the only sounds in the room coming from the rain hammering against the windows and the soft crackle of the fire. Mattheo’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

You looked at him, your throat tightening. "That’s what you did, Mattheo. You were always there for me. Always knew what to say, what to do to make me feel like I wasn’t drowning."

The words hung in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time. His face darkened, and his jaw clenched.

"And I wasn’t there for you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not when it mattered. Not when you needed me."

Mattheo stood abruptly, the motion sharp and full of barely contained anger. He paced a few steps away, his hands raking through his hair before he turned back to you, his eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with a fury that.

"I—"

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharper now. "Why are you here? After everything? After _you_ left, after you tore me apart and acted like I was nothing to you?"

"Mattheo, please," you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

"No!" he snapped. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere, wearing my hoodie, dredging up memories, and—" His voice cracked, and he turned away, raking his hands through his hair.

You flinched at his words, your breath hitching. "I—I don’t know," you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. "I was hurt too!"

His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You were hurt?" he snapped, his voice rising. "You left, Y/N. You fucking _left_. When I needed you most, you walked away. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea how it felt? to lose you—too?"

"Do you even know what it felt like Mattheo? Thinking you betrayed me? Thinking you were just like everyone else who lied, who hid things from me? I thought you were protecting them—not me. And it broke me, Mattheo. It broke everything I thought we had."

He froze, his chest rising and falling heavily, but his expression didn’t soften.

His jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as his fists clenched at his sides. "You think I wasn’t broken too?" he snapped. "I _lost everything,_ Y/N. My family, my name—everything. And I didn’t care, because I chose _you_. And you left anyway"

Your heart shattered at his words, but you forced yourself to speak. "I was scared! I didn’t know how to stay, Mattheo. I thought—I thought I’d just make everything worse."

His laugh was bitter, cutting through you like a knife. "You did," he said coldly. "You made everything worse by running away."

“I felt like I was responsible for your pain,” you said, choking on the words. “Your choice, your loss—it felt like my fault. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I didn’t know how to face you without seeing everything I thought I’d destroyed.”

“Do you hear yourself? You left because _you_ couldn’t deal with _my_ pain? That’s rich, Y/N. Real fucking rich.”

“You have every right to hate me,” you said, your voice breaking. “I was wrong. God, I was so wrong. But it’s happened, Mattheo. And somehow, I’m still here, breathing, hurting. I look at myself, and I see everything I’ve ruined. Look at me.” You gestured to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “Look at how fucked up I am. I wasn’t strong enough to stay, and now I’m barely holding it together. It’s like some fucked-up punishment, but I deserve it.”

He stared at you, his expression hard, unmoving.

“You think this is about you deserving punishment?” he said, his voice laced with venom. “You think your guilt makes this better for me?

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling as his words stabbed deeper. “Mattheo, stop—”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to stop,” he shot back. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you care now.”

“I love you!” you cried, the words ripping from your throat. “I love you, Mattheo. I always have, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He froze, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he might say something—might give you even a sliver of hope.

“Do you?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you met his eyes. “Do you still love me, Mattheo?”

The silence stretched between you, unbearable, suffocating. He looked at you, his breathing uneven, his jaw tight. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You can stay the night. You can’t go out in the rain like that and leave tomorrow.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, staring after him.

You watched him disappear down the hall, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the house. Your gaze drifted to the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a dull glow on the room.

You couldn’t stay. Not when he wouldn’t look at you, not when his words sliced through you like a blade, leaving wounds that felt too raw to ever heal. The fire crackled behind you as you stood by the door, frozen for a moment, before you gripped the handle and twisted it.

The rain greeted you with an icy embrace, drenching you instantly as you stepped outside. It poured relentlessly, soaking through your clothes and clinging to your skin as you stumbled down the path, your tears mingling with the rain.

Each step felt heavier than the last, your chest tightening with every sob that ripped through you. The cold bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache that clawed at your heart.

The rain blurred your vision, or maybe it was your tears. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care where you were going. You only knew that you couldn’t stay.

“You’re leaving again?”

The voice shattered the storm, sharp and rough, cutting through the pounding rain and your spiraling thoughts.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you turned. There he was, standing a few paces behind you, his hair drenched, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t name. Anger? Hurt? Desperation?

“You can’t just show up to leave again,” he said, his voice tight, low, and trembling with restraint as he stepped toward you.

“You told me to leave,” you choked out, your voice trembling as your tears spilled freely. “It doesn’t mattering it’s now or tomorrow.”

“Fuck, it does,” he snapped, running a hand through his wet hair as the rain continued to pour. “It does, Y/N.”

“What are you even saying?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, breaking under the weight of his words.

Mattheo took another step forward, his eyes blazing despite the rain streaking his face. He was trembling, not from the cold but from something far more volatile, far more vulnerable.

“Ask me again,” he said.

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“Ask me again, Y/N,” he demanded, his tone a mixture of desperation and fury. “Ask me if I still love you.”

Your heart stopped, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice breaking now. “Fucking ask me, Y/N.”

“Do you… do you still love me?” you finally whispered, the words fragile, trembling like you were.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

His hands grabbing your waist as he pulled you to him with a force that stole your breath. The kiss came hard and fast, his lips colliding with yours like he’d been starving for this moment. His hands were everywhere—cupping your face, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as though he could fuse your bodies together and make up for all the time you’d lost.

You gasped against his lips, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to hold onto something solid as he kissed you like his life depended on it. The rain poured harder, drenching you both, but you couldn’t feel the cold anymore—not with the heat of his lips, the way his tongue slid against yours, the way his hands gripped you like he was terrified you’d disappear again.

“Mattheo,” you whispered against his lips, but he didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t,” he muttered, as he broke the kiss just long enough to lift you off your feet. His hands slid to the backs of your thighs, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled you tighter against him, his lips finding yours again, this time slower but no less desperate.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Every word unsaid, every tear shed, every moment of longing you’d both endured. He kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of pain, anger, and love he’d carried into you, as though he could make you feel just how much he still wanted you, needed you.

“I hate you for leaving,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw, breaking with emotion. “But fuck, I love you too much to let you go again.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, tears mingling with the rain as you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

His forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing hard as the rain continued to pour, but neither of you cared.

[sadnymi]

No one noticed

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Words : 700

Warning: a lot angst - probably gonna be p2

The moonlight pierced through the dense canopy of trees, casting long, haunting shadows across the forest floor as you moved closer to the lake. A biting wind swept through the night, carrying the faint sound of rippling water.

Your footsteps were soft against the earth, but each step brought you closer to him—Mattheo. He stood by the edge of the lake, his silhouette outlined against the dark water, tossing something into the depths with force.

"That's not very wise," you said softly, your voice piercing the silence.

Mattheo froze mid-throw, his body tensing as if readying for a fight. He turned his head just enough to catch your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, unwelcoming glare.

"What?" His voice was low, edged with the sharp bite of impatience.

You didn’t flinch. You stepped closer, your boots crunching softly against the cold, damp ground. "There are creatures in that lake," you murmured, keeping your tone calm despite the storm building in your chest. "They won’t appreciate being disturbed."

"And I care because…?" He spun around fully to face you, eyes narrowing dangerously as if daring you to keep talking.

"You don’t. But I think you’d care if they decided to pull you under."

He tossed the last stone he was holding, the motion careless and angry. "Why are you here, Y/N?" he asked bitterly.

You bit your lip, you took another step closer, hesitating slightly before speaking. "I wanted to—"

His glare intensified as he cut you off. "Wanted to what? Ignore me again? Run away? Pretend I don’t fucking exist until it’s convenient for you?" His voice was dripping with frustration now, louder, angrier.

You faltered, your heart clenching in your chest. "Mattheo, I’m sorry," you said quietly, your voice trembling, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "I… I didn’t mean to ignore you—"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Mattheo snapped, stepping closer to you. "You’re not fucking sorry, Y/N. You never are. Every time we get close, every time I start thinking we’re finally going to figure this out, you disappear. You run away and leave me standing here like an idiot, wondering why the hell I even try."

You shook your head, your breath catching. "No, Mattheo, I’m really sorry. I’m scared. I just—"

"Scared? Scared of what?" He was shouting now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Of me? Of this?" His hand gestured between you. "What the hell are you so terrified of, Y/N?"

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to speak. "I don’t know!" you cried out. "I’m scared of everything, of this, of losing you, of… of feeling too much. But please, Mattheo, please don’t go."

He stared at you, his breathing ragged, anger rolling off him in waves. "You don’t even know what you want," he spat, shaking his head. "You say you want this—want us—but then you pull away the second it feels real. I’m done, Y/N. I’m fucking done. I’m not doing this anymore."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you gasped, reaching out for him desperately. "Wait, wait! It can’t be that easy! You can’t just… just walk away, please…" Your voice cracked, the tears coming in full force now. "Mattheo, don’t go."

For a moment, his face softened, just the briefest flicker of something vulnerable beneath his anger. It looked like he might come back to you, might pull you into his arms like he had done so many times before. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head, the softness disappearing.

"I can’t," he whispered hoarsely, his voice laced with pain."It’s brutal. I just… I can’t. Not again." He turned away, leaving you standing there, watching him retreat into the shadows.

You couldn’t blame him. You’d been here too many times before—each time, he stayed, and each time, you ran before things got too close, before you got too close. But this time, he didn’t stay.

But not this time.

He deserved better. He deserved someone who didn’t run the moment things got too real.

But why couldn’t you be better for him?

The wind howled through the trees, the forest suddenly feeling emptier without him there. You stood alone at the edge of the lake, staring at the spot where Mattheo had vanished into the night, your chest aching with a pain you couldn’t quite put into words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s just October and I’m sad again sorry

Also I have been in a really bad slump I would appreciate it if you send requests so I can get out of it tyyy lyyy

[sadnymi]

No one noticed

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Words : 700

Warning: a lot angst - probably gonna be p2

The moonlight pierced through the dense canopy of trees, casting long, haunting shadows across the forest floor as you moved closer to the lake. A biting wind swept through the night, carrying the faint sound of rippling water.

Your footsteps were soft against the earth, but each step brought you closer to him—Mattheo. He stood by the edge of the lake, his silhouette outlined against the dark water, tossing something into the depths with force.

"That's not very wise," you said softly, your voice piercing the silence.

Mattheo froze mid-throw, his body tensing as if readying for a fight. He turned his head just enough to catch your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, unwelcoming glare.

"What?" His voice was low, edged with the sharp bite of impatience.

You didn’t flinch. You stepped closer, your boots crunching softly against the cold, damp ground. "There are creatures in that lake," you murmured, keeping your tone calm despite the storm building in your chest. "They won’t appreciate being disturbed."

"And I care because…?" He spun around fully to face you, eyes narrowing dangerously as if daring you to keep talking.

"You don’t. But I think you’d care if they decided to pull you under."

He tossed the last stone he was holding, the motion careless and angry. "Why are you here, Y/N?" he asked bitterly.

You bit your lip, you took another step closer, hesitating slightly before speaking. "I wanted to—"

His glare intensified as he cut you off. "Wanted to what? Ignore me again? Run away? Pretend I don’t fucking exist until it’s convenient for you?" His voice was dripping with frustration now, louder, angrier.

You faltered, your heart clenching in your chest. "Mattheo, I’m sorry," you said quietly, your voice trembling, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "I… I didn’t mean to ignore you—"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Mattheo snapped, stepping closer to you. "You’re not fucking sorry, Y/N. You never are. Every time we get close, every time I start thinking we’re finally going to figure this out, you disappear. You run away and leave me standing here like an idiot, wondering why the hell I even try."

You shook your head, your breath catching. "No, Mattheo, I’m really sorry. I’m scared. I just—"

"Scared? Scared of what?" He was shouting now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Of me? Of this?" His hand gestured between you. "What the hell are you so terrified of, Y/N?"

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you struggled to speak. "I don’t know!" you cried out. "I’m scared of everything, of this, of losing you, of… of feeling too much. But please, Mattheo, please don’t go."

He stared at you, his breathing ragged, anger rolling off him in waves. "You don’t even know what you want," he spat, shaking his head. "You say you want this—want us—but then you pull away the second it feels real. I’m done, Y/N. I’m fucking done. I’m not doing this anymore."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you gasped, reaching out for him desperately. "Wait, wait! It can’t be that easy! You can’t just… just walk away, please…" Your voice cracked, the tears coming in full force now. "Mattheo, don’t go."

For a moment, his face softened, just the briefest flicker of something vulnerable beneath his anger. It looked like he might come back to you, might pull you into his arms like he had done so many times before. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head, the softness disappearing.

"I can’t," he whispered hoarsely, his voice laced with pain."It’s brutal. I just… I can’t. Not again." He turned away, leaving you standing there, watching him retreat into the shadows.

You couldn’t blame him. You’d been here too many times before—each time, he stayed, and each time, you ran before things got too close, before you got too close. But this time, he didn’t stay.

But not this time.

He deserved better. He deserved someone who didn’t run the moment things got too real.

But why couldn’t you be better for him?

The wind howled through the trees, the forest suddenly feeling emptier without him there. You stood alone at the edge of the lake, staring at the spot where Mattheo had vanished into the night, your chest aching with a pain you couldn’t quite put into words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s just October and I’m sad again sorry

Also I have been in a really bad slump I would appreciate it if you send requests so I can get out of it tyyy lyyy

[sadnymi]

Mastermind

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Lady Whistledown and Gossip Girl [ Hogwarts Version] had taken the school by storm. Every week, spoken letters delivered the latest rumors, and things were getting out of control. Y/N had finally had enough, especially when the latest gossip claimed she was dating Mattheo Riddle. Frustrated and determined to put an end to it, she went to Mattheo, asking for his help in uncovering the person behind the relentless rumors and stopping them once and for all.

Words: 15k

Warnings : fluff, smut smut smut don’t read in public you have been warning , biker boy mattheo [yes a warning] , a little angst, fluff .

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**The Daily Whisperer: Hogwarts Edition**

_Issue #47: The Gossip of the Week_

Hogwarts is buzzing with the latest speculation surrounding two of our most enigmatic students. You guessed it—Y/N Y/L/N and Mattheo Riddle.

Rumor has it that sparks are flying between these two, and if they aren't already an item, then Merlin’s beard, they definitely should be! A sighting in the library, some lingering glances in Potions class, and let’s not forget that mysterious detention they both just _happened_ to land in last week. Could this be the beginning of a legendary Hogwarts love story? But that's not all! This week’s flying letters brought us another sizzling scoop: Y/N was seen practicing dueling spells with Mattheo, and let's just say, the sparks were flying—literally. Could this be a sign of something more than just friendly competition? Stay tuned, dear readers. We’re on the case!

In other news, Y/N has been making waves not just in the rumor mill but in the academic arena as well. This ( whatever house you’re in, darling Y/N!) has been impressing professors and students alike with her spellwork and potions prowess. Is there anything she can't do? We'll keep you posted on her latest achievements and, of course, any further developments in her relationship status with a certain handsome Slytherin.

Until next time, keep your wands at the ready and your ears to the ground!

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I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes on me as I stormed through the hallways, clutching the latest edition of "Hogwarts Whispers" in my hand. My anger was palpable, a tangible force pushing people aside as they gawked at me. As I turned a corner, a group of Hufflepuffs quickly scattered, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of my wrath. My anger flared hotter. Who had the nerve to spread such nonsense? And why did it have to be always about _me_?

Finally, I spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, casually leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he exchanged easy banter with his friends. Typical.

I marched up to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. His friends wisely took a step back as I approached, but he merely glanced over at me with that infuriating smirk of his, clearly amused by my arrival.

“Riddle,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Y/L/N,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or just genuinely interested.

“We need to talk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “We need to talk?”

I huffed in frustration. “You didn’t read what that freak wrote today?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning my face for any clue. “But does that have anything to do with why people are looking at us like we are about to say our vows?”

Resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. “Come on.”

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the entire school. The last thing I needed was to give those gossipy little owls more fuel for their fire.

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked, his hand warm in mine, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any truth to what they’d written.

But I shoved that thought aside as we reached a secluded corner. I had a bone to pick with him, and I wasn’t about to let a few stray butterflies distract me.

“What are we going to do about this?” I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone else.

He just grinned, clearly unfazed. “What do you mean, Y/N? Sounds like we’re the hottest topic in school.”

My glare deepened. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo.”

“Maybe not.”

“This is absolute bullshit!” I fumed, waving the gossip letter around like it was cursed. “Why would anyone write this? Why is it always about me? Every. Single. Week!”

Mattheo leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smile on his face. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, which only fueled my irritation further.

“And then they say I’m dating you?” I threw the letter on a desk, feeling my pulse racing. “Are they insane? Where do they even get this stuff?”

He chuckled, that deep, velvety sound that always seemed to get under my skin. “I’m trying so hard not to take that personally, princess.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Riddle.”

But he didn’t stop smiling, just kept leaning against the wall, looking at me like he was thoroughly enjoying the show. My frustration bubbled over. “Why are you so calm about this? This is serious! People are staring at us in the hallways! It’s like they’ve all got nothing better to do than imagine some ridiculous romance between us.”

“Well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward me, “can you blame them? You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t funny. We need to find out who’s behind this, and you’re going to help me.”

Mattheo pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to me. "You want me to help you track down the identity of…" he paused, a playful glint in his eyes, "Madam Matchmaker?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Would you do that?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I would never say no to my girlfriend."

"Shut up, Riddle." I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat despite the anger still boiling inside me. "I’m not your girlfriend," I insisted, my voice lacking the conviction I’d hoped for.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. "That’s not what the whole school is saying."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Shut up, Riddle."

"Don't you see how ridiculous this is?" I asked, exasperated.

He tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Oh, I see it, alright. But I've got to admit, I don't mind being linked to you, Y/N. It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you."

"Shut up, Riddle."

He laughed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know, if you keep telling me to shut up, I might just have to find another way to occupy my mouth."

"You… you’re —-!"

"And yet, here you are, asking me for help. You must like something about me, Y/N."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I like the idea of you doing something useful for once. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened up, still smiling but with a more serious glint in his eyes. "Of course I’ll help you. But you owe me one."

"Fine," I grumbled, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

The next day, I stormed into the Great Hall, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment in my hand. I barely noticed the whispers that trailed behind me as I made a beeline for the Slytherin table, my eyes locking onto Mattheo, who was lounging back in his seat, looking completely unbothered by the chaos swirling around us.

I slammed the parchment down in front of him, making a few Slytherins glance over in curiosity.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a list,” I said, taking a seat across from him and ignoring the way his friends were watching us with interest. “A list of suspects. I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities, and we need to figure out who’s responsible.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

I pointed to the first name on the list. “First, there’s Carla knight. She’s always had it out for me ever since that incident in Potions last year. You know, she’s been looking for a way to get back at me ever since, she’s petty enough to spread rumors, and she’s got the connections to get them published.”

“True,” Mattheo mused, leaning back in his chair. “But Carla’s too obvious, don’t you think? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, moving on to the next name. “Then there’s John Gary. He’s always been the quiet type, but that just makes him more dangerous. He’s close to the source, and he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”

Mattheo nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting."

"What about Lavender Brown? She’s always gossiping, and she’s got this diary she carries around everywhere. What if she’s the one writing this stuff down and sending it off to ‘Hogwarts Whispers’?"

"Lavender’s a possibility," Mattheo admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "But she’s more into writing about her own love life than anyone else’s. I doubt she’d be focused enough to keep tabs on us."

I grumbled under my breath and tapped my quill against the parchment, staring at the remaining names. "Then who could it be? I’ve gone through almost everyone who’s likely to be involved in this kind of thing, and none of them make sense!"

Mattheo didn’t respond immediately, and I looked up to find him just staring at me, a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing? Were you even listening?" I demanded, feeling my frustration rise again.

His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before he finally spoke. "Oh, I was listening, princess. It’s just hard to focus when you’re looking so damn determined. It’s… distracting."

My heart did a little flip, but I shoved that feeling down and crossed my arms. "This is serious, Riddle. Someone is spreading lies about us, and you’re just sitting here, smirking like it’s all a joke."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still locked on mine. "I’m not laughing at you. I’m just appreciating how hard you’re trying to solve this little mystery. It’s kind of… sexy."

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let him derail me. "Stop with the compliments, Mattheo. This is important."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Riddle. I’m serious."

"So am I," he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat, his gaze still locked on mine. "But if you want to focus on this little mystery instead of the much more interesting topic of us, then go ahead."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least don’t make this harder than it already is."

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to spend time with me than concocting elaborate schemes to solve a mystery that might not even have a culprit."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe someone’s just trying to push us together, and it’s working. Ever thought about that?"

"Shut up, Riddle," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. "Only if you make me."

I reached out to smack his arm. "Stop acting like that. This is serious!"

In a flash, Mattheo’s hand shot out, catching my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His smile was both mischievous and reassuring as he looked at me. "Alright, but only because you’re so charming when you’re worked up."

I pulled my wrist free, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Just—stop distracting me. I need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets any worse."

Mattheo leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving mixture of amusement and interest. "Indeed, lead the way. I’m all ears."

For the rest of the week, I was on a mission. Every day, I dragged Mattheo around the school, from the library to the common rooms, and even to the less frequented corners of the castle. Despite his usual nonchalance, Mattheo followed along without question, his only response being that knowing smile he always seemed to have when he was around me.

We spent hours poring over potential suspects, analyzing their motives, and investigating their whereabouts. Each time I got frustrated or hit a dead end, Mattheo would patiently listen, never interrupting, and only offering occasional comments that were either strangely insightful or just plain distracting.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I finally vented my frustrations. "This is ridiculous. I’ve talked to nearly everyone I can think of, and no one seems to know anything. It’s like we’re running in circles."

Mattheo’s hand brushed against mine as he walked beside me, and I could feel the warmth of his touch even through our robes. "Maybe you’re looking too hard. Sometimes, the answer isn’t in what people say but in what they don’t."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the week’s frustration pressing down on me. "I just don’t get it. Why would someone target me like this?"

He glanced at me, his expression softening. "Maybe they’re trying to get a reaction out of you."

His words, though comforting, did little to ease my worries. I shook my head and kept walking, the silence between us stretching as we turned another corner. "I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm about all this. I’m losing my mind trying to figure this out."

"You’re doing great."

"Thanks, Mattheo."

He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Besides, it’s been… interesting, spending all this time with you. I’d say it’s been the highlight of my week."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Oh, is that so? I’m glad to be your highlight, Riddle."

He grinned, his usual mischievous glint in his eye. "You should be. And if you ever need me to be a distraction! again, just let me know."

" I hope not."

As we turned another corner in the castle, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from his usual playful smirk to something more serious. "Go on a date with me."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly confident look on his face. "Let’s go on a date."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "Why would I—what are you even talking about? We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s spreading these rumors, not giving them more fuel for the fire!"

"Exactly," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we go on a date, we can see who’s watching us, who’s interested in what we’re doing. It’ll flush out the culprit. And with the weekend coming up, whoever’s behind this will be desperate for more gossip to spread. We’ll be able to figure it out, Y/N."

I shook my head, utterly incredulous. "Absolutely not. I’m not going on a date with you."

"Why not?" he asked, his smirk returning as he stepped closer, his presence as magnetic as ever. "It’s the perfect plan. We’ll be able to spot who’s paying too much attention to us."

"Because," I stammered, feeling my heart race as he closed the distance between us, "it’s ridiculous! You’re just trying to mess with me. I know you, Mattheo. You don’t actually care about solving this, you just want to—"

"Want to what?" he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. "Think about it, Y/N. We go out, see who’s watching, think of it as an experiment. A way to gather evidences. You like evidence, don’t you?"

"I’m not going on a date with you. I refuse to give these gossips exactly what they want. I’m not some pawn in their game, and I’m certainly not going to parade around with you just to see who’s got their eyes on us."

He just kept smiling, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriatingly calm, knowing look. "You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it’s the best way to figure this out."

"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "There’s no way I’m doing it. This is absurd, and I’m not falling for it. You’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" he echoed, taking another step closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "Shut up, Riddle."

He didn’t move, his smirk widening as his gaze held mine. "You tell me to shut up again, and I will kiss the fuck out of you, princess."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "That’s the deal. You say it again, and I won’t hold back."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could barely form a coherent thought as his words sank in. "You—you’re insane."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low and full of intent. "But I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to figure this out—with you."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. "Or is it just that you’re afraid you might actually enjoy it?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I was too flustered to think straight. His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming.

"This is stupid," I muttered, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance.

"That’s not a ‘no’."

I glared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "But this is strictly for the sake of finding out who’s behind the rumors."

Mattheo’s grin widened. "Of course, princess. Strictly business."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a lid on the flurry of emotions swirling inside me. "You have to behave, Riddle. No funny business, no flirting. Just… business."

"I’ll be on my best behavior."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just playing me. "Somehow, I doubt that."

He chuckled, leaning in slightly saying in a mocking tone. "Your doubt wounds me, Y/N. My favorite thing to do is to be a good boy for you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, whatever you say."

"So," he continued, ignoring my skepticism, "tomorrow, then?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Mattheo’s gaze softened, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Don’t be nervous. And try not to think about me too much tonight."

I scoffed, giving him a withering look. "In your dreams, Riddle."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. "Oh, believe me, darling. You’re in my dreams every night. But we’re not just talking in them."

My face burned as I smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I’m going to just kill you someday and stop the rumors you’re insufferable, you know that?"

He just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

"I don’t have a choice," I shot back, starting to walk toward my dormitory with him following close behind.

"Ah, but you do," he said smoothly, keeping pace with me. "And you’re choosing to be here with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

I ignored him, focusing on the corridor ahead, even as I felt his gaze lingering on me.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing. "You know, tomorrow’s going to be fun. You’ll see."

I rolled my eyes, still facing forward. "If by ‘fun’ you mean torturous, then sure."

Mattheo’s laughter echoed through the corridor, warm and rich. "Torturous for you, maybe. But for me? It’ll be heaven."

I stopped in front of my dormitory, turning to face him. "This is where we part ways."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "For now. But you know, you can always invite me in if you’re feeling lonely."

Pushing him away lightly I said. "Not a chance, Riddle."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Worth a shot."

I gave him a look, and for once, he seemed to back down. "Alright, alright. Sleep well, Y/N. And try not to think too much about tomorrow. Or about me."

I slammed the door shut in his face, cutting off his words, but I could still hear his low chuckle from the other side. Then I leaned against the door, trying to steady my racing heart.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been on plenty of dates before, so why does this one feel different? I’ve had Quidditch players asking me out, and even the prince of Eldoria once tried his luck, but none of that made me feel as nervous as I am right now. And this isn’t even a real date. It’s just a… mission, right?

I stared at the mess of clothes strewn across my room, feeling utterly lost. Is this too much? Will I be overdressed if I wear it? Or is this too casual? And I can’t stop thinking about him—nope, we won’t do that. We won’t think about him or what he’s going to wear. Or not wear. No, absolutely not. We are not thinking about him without clothes. That can’t happen. I can’t stand Mattheo, right?

But why? Why can’t I stand him? I can’t remember anymore. Maybe it’s because he makes me feel so damn nervous? And I hate that. I hate losing control. I love having control over everything, and Merlin knows he wasn’t helping with that. It’s like every cell in my body is screaming, and I mean every single one.

I finally settled on a small black dress, letting my hair fall naturally around my shoulders. I added a touch of makeup and a simple necklace, convincing myself that I was doing this for me. It’s a good chance to get dressed up and look good—to myself, right? I always do. I’m a fashion icon, and I always dress well. Not for any certain someone with beautiful eyes and hair and a body that—nope, stop it, Y/N. We’re not going there.

I took a deep breath and walked out of my dorm, only to find Mattheo standing just outside my door, hand raised as if he was about to knock. He was dressed all in black, and oh, Merlin, that shirt was doing things to me.

His eyes slowly raking up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking, and when his gaze finally reached my face, it lingered on my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Matching," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "You always wear black or gray, It’s hardly a coincidence Mattheo."

His smirk widened as he took a step closer. "Oh, baby, so you were trying to match with me?"

"What? Of course not!" I shot back, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would’ve liked. He laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "If you don’t stop, I’m going back inside and forgetting about this so-called date,"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely breathtaking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to focus on anything but you tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, though I could feel my cheeks heating up. "You’re so insufferable."

"And you’re so beautiful," he replied smoothly, taking my hand in his. "Now come on. Let’s get out of here."

I allowed him to lead me out of the castle, my heart pounding harder with every step. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I promise it’s something you’ll like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you’re up to something, Riddle, I swear—"

"Oh, I’m definitely up to something," he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he glanced over at me, his eyes darkening slightly. "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Maybe even more than you expect."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice steady. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who said I was trying to fool you?" he shot back, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I tried to ignore the way his words made my pulse quicken. "You’re being annoyingly cryptic, you know that?"

"It’s part of my charm," he replied , his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "And besides, it’s worth the suspense, don’t you think?"

I looked at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I think you’re enjoying this far too much."

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with a mischievous glint. "Oh, I am. But don’t pretend you aren’t, too."

As Mattheo led me down the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb was now tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine, and I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.

My breath hitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "You’re really pushing it, Riddle."

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I pushed him away pretending to be annoyed it’s actually better to show him that I was so turned on. "Let’s just get this over with."

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to inject some firmness into my voice, though it came out softer than I intended.

Mattheo glanced at me, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Patience, darling."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words got caught in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a wave, but it did little to quell the heat burning inside me.

“You look like you’re trying really hard not to think about what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What… what are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, pulling me closer until our bodies were nearly touching. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. About what it would feel like.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flooded my body at his words. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t letting him get to me like this. But when he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my hip, I could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, though it was clear even to me that I was lying.

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been thinking about it. And the best part? So have I.”

I blinked up at him, trying to form a coherent response when he suddenly smirked and pointed behind me. “Relax, darling. I was talking about the ride I’m going to give you tonight.”

I followed his gaze and saw a sleek black motorcycle parked nearby. “Wait… what?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

His smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What were _you_ thinking about?”

“Nothing!” I shot back, far too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. He started walking toward the bike, and I followed, my steps hesitant.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle as if it had personally offended me.

He looked at me with exaggerated innocence. “This? It’s a bike. You know, that thing with two wheels that goes vroom?”

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what it is. I’m asking why you’re near it.”

He leaned against the bike, looking far too smug for his own good."Because we’re taking it for a ride, obviously."

“Mattheo, you didn’t… Where did you even get this from?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He grinned mischievously. “Stole it.”

My eyes widened, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “Kidding, darling. Just get on.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether I should turn around and walk back inside. But something about the way he was looking at me—challenging, teasing—made me pause. I cursed under my breath and reluctantly walked over to the bike.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but curse myself for wearing a dress. Of all nights, why did I choose tonight to be impractical? I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the bike, careful not to flash him.

“Need some help there?”

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, finally managing to get on the bike without embarrassing myself too much.

He turned to face me, and suddenly, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His hands reached up, and he gently placed a helmet on my head, securing the strap under my chin. The simple act was far more intimate than it had any right to be, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might want to hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my hands. “If you crash this thing, I’m killing you,” I muttered against his back.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.”

he started the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath us. I tightened my grip on him as we took off, the wind whipping through my hair. The cool night air rushed past us, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Mattheo’s body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he maneuvered the bike through the darkened streets.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” he called over the sound of the wind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Riddle.”

He laughed again, but there was a dark edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I am. But I can’t help but think about how good you feel pressed up against me.”

My cheeks burned, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. “Shut up, Mattheo.”

" careful baby remember our deal?"

“Mattheo—”

“ Yes,princess?"

" don’t open your mouth please."

He laughed " Why? You don’t like it when I talk about how your hands feel on me? Or how I can feel every little movement you make?”

“No—”

“Or maybe it’s the way you’re clinging to me right now,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more seductive. “Like you can’t get close enough. Like you don’t want this ride to end.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way his words were making my heart race even faster. He was doing this on purpose, and damn him, it was working.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He slowed the bike down slightly, and I felt him lean back just enough to speak directly into my ear. “Too late for that, darling. You’re driving me crazy.”

My breath caught, and I tightened my grip on him, unsure if it was to steady myself or if it was because part of me wanted him to pull over.

“Mattheo…” I warned, but my voice was weak, trembling.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “Relax."

Every time he took a sharp turn or sped up, my grip on him tightened, and he would laugh softly, his voice full of that infuriating confidence. “You sure you’re not nervous?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, though my heart was racing for more reasons than just the speed of the bike.

“Good.”

As Mattheo slowed the bike to a stop, I looked around and felt a jolt of unease settle in my stomach. The area was dimly lit, with groups of people loitering around, looking like trouble. The girls wore little more than scraps of fabric, their heavy makeup making their eyes look like dark smudges in the faint light. The guys weren’t any better—tough, dangerous, and clearly up to no good.

I turned to Mattheo, my voice tinged with irritation and confusion. “What the hell, Mattheo?”

He smirked, swinging his leg off the bike. “What? I thought you’d appreciate something different from the fancy dates you’re used to. Oh, remind me again, where did Prince Edward take you to?”

“He didn’t,” I snapped back, dismounting the bike as gracefully as possible while trying to keep my dress in place. “Because I turned the date down.”

Mattheo’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. “How bad for him.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing around nervously. “There’s no one from school here, right? I mean, how is the gossip mill going to work if they don’t notice us?”

He leaned against the bike, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, they won’t.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous.

He laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll be more likely to be notice here than some fancy place, don’t you think?”

I frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Probably, yeah. Any normal person would feel so out of place here.”

I was about to step off the bike when I felt his hands suddenly on my hips, his grip firm. “No, not like that, princess.”

“What?” I managed to say, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as he effortlessly swung off the bike first. Then, without warning, he placed his hands on my waist again and lifted me off the bike as if I weighed nothing.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to get a look at the show I had a minutes ago,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

My face flushed crimson, and I struggled to maintain my composure as his hands stayed on my waist, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, almost claiming, and I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me despite the chaotic surroundings.

“So, do I need to keep my wand close?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious as we neared the group.

Mattheo chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

As we walked through the crowd, people began to notice Mattheo, their eyes lighting up with recognition. A couple of guys came over, greeting him with casual nods and low murmurs.

“Riddle! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” one of them said, a tall guy with a crooked grin.

Another guy came up, clapping Mattheo on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Thought you’d ditched us for good.”

“Nah,” Mattheo replied casually. “Just been busy.”

“Yeah, thought you were too good for us these days,” another chimed in, smirking.

Mattheo just shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. “Can’t forget where I came from.”

Before I could process what that meant, a girl suddenly appeared, practically throwing herself at Mattheo. She had wild, dark hair and wore a top that could barely be called clothing. “Matty! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she purred, her hands already trailing over his chest. Then, she noticed me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up.

I met her gaze, lifting my chin defiantly as I looked her over. She was all beautiful and confidence, but something about her screamed desperate. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that flared in my chest. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Who’s this?” she asked Mattheo, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mattheo’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She’s My girl,” he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

The girl’s eyes narrowed further as she gave me another once-over. I met her gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Got a problem with that?” I asked, my tone sweet but laced with a clear challenge.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes were still cold. She turned back to Mattheo, trying to regain his attention. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, now you know,” I said firmly, stepping closer to Mattheo as if staking my claim.

She shot me one last glare before reluctantly backing off, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this one. I watched her go, feeling oddly victorious, even as my heart pounded in my chest.

Mattheo’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, though my face was still flushed.

“Right,” he drawled, clearly not believing me.

Mattheo guided me through the throngs of people, his hand never leaving my waist as we made our way toward a secluded area. The crowd seemed to part for him, everyone stepping aside as if they knew better than to get in his way. He led me to a corner of the warehouse where a small, dimly lit bar was nestled. The area was quieter, more exclusive, with plush leather couches and a polished wooden bar that gave it an air of importance.

“This is where the VIPs hang out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped into the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—a private sanctuary within the madness.

Mattheo smirked, pulling out a barstool for me before taking a seat himself. “You could say that. Only those who matter get to hang out here.”

I settled onto the stool, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And I’m guessing you’re one of those people?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think, Princess?”

“I think you like making a scene wherever you go,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light despite the way my heart was racing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The bartender, a grizzled-looking man with a permanent scowl, approached us, his gaze flickering over me before settling on Mattheo.

“Riddle,” the bartender said in greeting, his voice gruff. “Been a while.”

“Hey, Greg,” Mattheo replied, his voice casual. “How’s business?”

Greg grunted, grabbing a glass and starting to mix a drink. “Same old, same old. You finally got yourself a date, eh?”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. “Something like that.”

Greg's eyes flickered over to me again, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He took in my dress and my slightly flustered demeanor, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “She's a fancy one, ain't she?” he commented, continuing to mix the drinks.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Mattheo agreed, his hand caressing my thigh. “But she’s all mine.”

I suppressed a shiver at the touch, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I shot Mattheo a glare. He just smirked in response.

"Noted." Greg set our drinks down in front of us, a shot of dark liquor for Mattheo and something orange and frothy for me. “On the house,” he said gruffly, before moving to serve other customers.

"Can you tell me why those people know you? And how the hell are you so well-known like a famous celebrity here?"

Mattheo takes a sip of his drink, a smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates my question. “I wouldn’t say famous, darling. But I’ve spent a lot of time here... Let’s just say I know my way around.”

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not a real answer.”

He grins, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it's a perfectly real answer. You just don't like it.”

"And what about this girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That’s Layla. She’s part of this crowd… a regular here, I guess you could say.”

“And you… know her well?”

He shrugs, his hand going back to rest on my thigh. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, yeah.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause, a flicker of jealousy stirring in my chest.

He takes another sip of his drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

I scowl at his non-answer. “You’re the one who keeps avoiding them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing lazy circles on my thigh. “I just like seeing you get all worked up, princess.”

“So what’s your definition of crossing paths?” I ask, pressing him further.

He pauses, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Layla and I have... hooked up a few times. Nothing serious, just casual stuff.”

My heart sinks, a mix of jealousy and disappointment flickering inside me. I try to mask it, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered me.

“And what about now? Is she still in the picture?”

His hand tightens slightly on my thigh, and I feel him tense for a moment. Then he turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing mine as he answers, “No, she’s not.”

“Good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “because this whole act would be a lot less convincing if you were involved with more than one girl.”

Mattheo chuckles, the sound low and rich, as his fingers tighten their grip on my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “And here I thought you were just in this for the show,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more seductive.

“I am,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart. “But even in an act, there are rules.”

“Rules, huh?” He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, his breath warm against my skin. “And what are those rules, princess?”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. I need to stay in control, to remind myself that this is just an act. “Like keeping your hands to yourself,” I whisper, but the words come out more breathless than I intended.

He chuckles again, a dark, knowing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand slides further up my thigh, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We’re supposed to be pretending,” I manage to say, my voice betraying the strain of keeping up the facade.

“Are we?” His lips graze the corner of my mouth, his words a challenge, daring me to keep up the pretense.

I turn my head slightly, our noses nearly touching, my breath mingling with his. “Yes,” I whisper, but it’s clear neither of us believes it anymore.

“So, just an act?” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod, barely managing to keep my composure. “Just an act,” I reply, though the words feel like a lie.

He tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But we might as well convince them, right?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that says he’s not playing anymore.

I should pull away, tell him no, remind him that this is all part of the charade. But I can’t. My resolve crumbles as I look into his eyes, the intensity there pulling me in, refusing to let go.

“Right,” I whisper, my voice betraying me.

Before I can take another breath, his mouth was on mine, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. Then, his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and I gasped, giving him the opening he needed.

His tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing, coaxing mine into a heated dance that left me dizzy. The kiss was all-consuming, each stroke of his tongue demanding a response that I couldn’t help but give. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, a promise of everything he could make me feel.

Mattheo’s hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until I was practically melting into him. He sucked on my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more of him, of this.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, the praise like gasoline to the fire already burning inside me. The words sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, tracing the curve of my spine—as he guided me to straddle his lap. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hardness pressing against me, a reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. His words were a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Mattheo,” I breathed, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more, to give more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin as his hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him. The friction was maddening, each roll of my hips sending waves of pleasure through me that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a hunger that made my heart race.

“Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him, desperate for more. His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he guided my movements, his lips capturing mine again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, primal, a clash of tongues and teeth that left me trembling in his arms.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire as his hands slid under my dress, tracing the edges of my panties. “Such a good girl for me.” The praise was almost too much, his mouth was on mine, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body as I arched into him, needing him to do something, anything to relieve the ache between my thighs.

Reality crashed down on me like a cold wave, dousing the fire that had been raging between us. I was kissing Mattheo Riddle—not just kissing him, but grinding against him in a dark, dingy bar, losing control in a way that was so unlike me.

Breathless, I shook my head, my hands still resting on his chest, but I pushed him away just enough to create space between us. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort to regain control.

“Why not?” he murmured.

His hands remained on my hips, firm but not forceful, as if he knew I could—and might—pull away at any moment.

“It’s wrong,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Wrong didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

“It feels so right to me,” he countered, his voice low.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my resolve wavering as I felt the heat of his body so close to mine, the pull of his gaze making it almost impossible to think clearly. I was losing myself, losing the control I prided myself on, every time I was near him.

“Mattheo, I want to go,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though the longing in me betrayed how much I wanted to stay, to give in.

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he stood up, his hand falling away from my thigh. He kept close to me as we made our way out of the bar, his presence a constant, protective shield, yet he didn’t touch me. And damn, I hated that—hated how much I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands on me again, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

We reached his bike, and he stood between me and the prying eyes of anyone passing by, shielding me as I climbed on. He still didn’t touch me, and it was driving me insane, the absence of his touch making me crave it even more. I hated myself for it, for wanting him so badly that it was all I could think about.

He climbed on the bike in front of me, starting the engine with a low rumble. My hands automatically went to his waist, and as soon as I made contact, it was like an electric current shot through me. My mind was a mess, a chaotic whirl of thoughts and emotions, and my body—oh, my body—was screaming for more, for him.

I clenched my hands tighter around him, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the tension inside me was unbearable. The battle raging within me, between what I wanted and what I knew was right, was tearing me apart.

“Stop, Mattheo,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the night.

He didn’t respond at first, but I felt his body tense under my hands. “What?” he asked, his voice tight, uncertain.

“I said stop,” I repeated, louder this time, and he immediately pulled the bike over to the side of the road, the engine cutting off with a final, ominous growl.

We were on a dark, deserted forest road, the trees casting long, eerie shadows under the moonlight. I got off the bike quickly, putting distance between us, trying to get a grip on the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I walked a few steps away, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me.

I turned around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him, standing there, taking off his helmet. His eyes were on me, intense, questioning, filled with something that made my heart race all over again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running back to him, my resolve crumbling to dust. I crashed into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his with a desperation I couldn’t control.

His response was immediate, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, raw passion that left me breathless. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, devouring, claiming me in a way that made my knees weak.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the bike with my back against the handlebars, my legs on either side of him as he stepped between them, his body pressing into mine. The cold metal of the bike contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, the hard, unyielding surface beneath me a stark reminder of how exposed, how vulnerable I was.

But I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me, needing him to take away the ache that was consuming me from the inside out.

His hands roamed over me, possessive, claiming, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into his mouth. He was everywhere—his touch, his taste, his scent—overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left but him.

“Mattheo,” I breathed against his lips, my hands sliding up to cup his face, holding him to me as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, dark and wild. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, both a challenge and a plea.

And he did. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips descending on mine once more, claiming me, possessing me. The kiss was hard, demanding, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sending shockwaves through me that left me breathless, trembling in his arms.

his hand tracing a teasing line down my side. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “If I were to slip my hand between those pretty thighs right now, would I find you soaking wet, princess?”

A shiver ran through me, his words setting my skin on fire.

“You’d have to do it to find out,” I whispered back, my voice shaky.

His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed the fabric of my dress up, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core, making me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with praise that sent another rush of heat through me. His hand moved higher, inching closer to where I needed him most, but he took his time, teasing me, making me squirm against him.

When his fingers finally reached the edge of my panties, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he slid one finger along the slick fabric, barely touching me but enough to make my breath hitch.

I bit my lip, fighting back a moan as he continued to tease me, his finger tracing lazy circles over my clit through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening, the light touch just enough to drive me crazy but not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need inside me.

“Let’s see how wet you really are,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside my panties, his fingers brushing against my slick folds. The contact was enough to make me moan, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.

His finger slid along my slit, collecting my wetness before he pressed it against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had me arching into his touch, desperate for more. “You’re drenched,” he murmured, his voice laced with approval, his breath hot against my neck as he continued to work me over.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as he curled his finger, finding that perfect spot that made me see stars. He added another finger, the stretch delicious as he pumped them in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit with every movement.

“Look at you princess.” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he continued to finger me, his pace steady and relentless. “You like knowing we’re still in public, don’t you, Y/N? That’s so unlike you….”

His words made my head spin, the combination of his dirty talk and the way his fingers worked me over was too much, too overwhelming. “Nothing I do when I’m with you is like me,” I admitted, my voice breathless as I bucked against his hand, craving more of the pleasure only he could give me. “But nothing has ever felt this good.”

He groaned at my confession, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had me seeing stars. “Good girl,” he praised again, his voice filled with pride and lust as he kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that left me breathless.

I kissed him back with equal fervor, losing myself in the feel of him, the way his fingers worked me over, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in just the right way, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me that made my entire body tremble.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled against my lips, his fingers moving faster, harder, the wet sounds of his fingers working me over filling the dark, empty forest around us. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, princess? Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

His words were my undoing, the praise and the dirty talk too much for me to handle. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless, clinging to him for support as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Mattheo didn’t stop, his fingers working me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I was nothing but a trembling, panting mess in his arms. He finally slowed his movements, gently pulling his fingers out of me and bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked onto mine as he licked them clean.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction as he pulled me in for another searing kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, letting me taste myself on him.

I kissed him back, my heart racing, my body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just done to me. I knew we were still out in the open, knew that anyone could have seen us, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel, the way he could break down every wall I’d ever built around myself with just a touch, a word, a kiss.

breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “Would you let me tease you, princess? Let me take my time driving you wild until you’re begging for me?”

His voice was dark, dripping with lust and promise, the words alone sending a shiver down my spine. I could only nod, still panting, my body trembling from the aftershocks of my release. The anticipation of what he was about to do had my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked at my response, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider. I gasped as the cool air brushed against my heated core, my entire body thrumming with a desperate need for more.

Mattheo took his time, starting with a slow, deliberate kiss on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His lips were soft, his tongue darting out to taste my skin as he worked his way up, inch by agonizing inch. Each kiss, each lick, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my thighs tremble in anticipation.

He alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing licks, his tongue tracing patterns up my inner thigh. The closer he got to where I wanted him most, the more my hips began to shift, desperate for him to end the torment. But he didn’t rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

When he finally reached the apex of my thighs, he paused, his breath warm against my soaked folds. The anticipation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming for him to touch me, to give me the release I was so desperately craving.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement as he kissed the sensitive skin right beside where I ached for him most.

And then, without warning, his tongue was on me, the first long, slow lick sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as his tongue slid over my folds, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.

He took his time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firm, deliberate strokes of his tongue over my clit. Every touch was electric, every swirl of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was already so sensitive, still reeling from my first orgasm, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “I’m just getting started.”

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. The combination of his mouth and the steady rhythm of his tongue was driving me wild, the pleasure building so quickly that it was almost overwhelming.

He kept at it, his tongue working in tandem with his lips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs were trembling, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coiled tight in my belly, ready to snap.

And then he pushed me over the edge, his tongue curling around my clit in a way that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm tore through me, the pleasure so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover as he continued to work me through my release, his tongue lapping up every bit of my arousal. The overstimulation was mind-blowing, each flick of his tongue sending another shockwave through my already oversensitive body.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice raw from the intensity of it all. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he continued his assault on my clit, his fingers sliding back inside me to curl against that spot that made me see stars. “You’re going to cum again, princess. I want to feel you fall apart for me one more time.”

I could barely form a coherent thought, my mind completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving me. I could only nod, my body already climbing toward that peak again, the intensity of it making my head spin.

He finally pulled away, his hands gently holding my thighs as I came down from the high, my body still trembling with the aftershocks. I was completely spent, my mind foggy with pleasure, but Mattheo just grinned up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed my inner thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “I could do this all night.”

Tears of pleasure welled in my eyes as I reached for Mattheo, pulling him up to me. I could feel my makeup smeared, my face wet with tears that I knew had streaked down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, about the way his lips met mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.

He kissed me with a hunger that matched my own, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious, even as I reached down, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. I could feel how hard he was, could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only made me more desperate, more eager to feel all of him.

But then, to my surprise, he pulled back slightly, his hand catching mine. “No,” he murmured, his voice firm, but there was something in his tone that made me pause, that made me look up into his eyes, confused.

“What? Why?” I asked, my breath hitching, my heart pounding in my chest. The need in me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t understand why he would stop now, not when we were both so clearly on the edge.

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t mocking. It was low and full of a raw affection that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me again, slow and deep, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, his thumb brushing gently over my tear-streaked cheek.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to bend you over this bike and take you right now, right here,” he whispered, and the words alone were enough to make my legs go weak.

“Then do it,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with both need and frustration. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment; I just wanted him.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine, his thumb still tracing the line of my cheek.

“No,” he repeated, and before I could protest, before I could beg, he continued, his voice soft but filled with a determination that left me breathless. “When I get to have you, Y/N, I want it to be when I can take my time, when I can make you feel everything I’ve been dying to give you. I don’t want to rush this, to take you in some dark forest where anyone could see. You deserve more than that, more than just a quick fuck.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity, in the sheer weight of what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted more than just my body; he wanted all of me, and he wanted it to be right.

I was speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, and all I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he had just said. “Mattheo…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one gentle, full of a tenderness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"Not here, not like this. I want to take my time with you, princess. I want to feel every inch of you, taste every part of you, and make you mine in every possible way.”

I could only nod, tears slipping down my cheeks as I kissed him back, pouring all of my emotions into that kiss. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but I knew he was right. This—whatever it was between us—was more than just a physical need. It was something deeper, something that deserved to be treated with the care and attention he was promising.

We were supposed to be heading to class, but with Mattheo Riddle standing this close, logic and responsibility seemed to melt away. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, and I could barely think straight. His hand was firmly on my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough, and I had to admit, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the back of my mind, I knew we were in a hallway, but everything else was a blur. All I could focus on was the way Mattheo’s lips moved against mine, the way his other hand slid up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. My eyes flew open, and Mattheo reacted instantly, pulling me into a nearby alcove and pressing a hand gently over my mouth. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of almost being caught. I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept onto my lips as I peeked up at him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, and he had that signature smirk of his as we both listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. The Ravenclaw group passed by, completely oblivious to our presence. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how close we had come to being caught.

As soon as they were out of sight, I grinned and grabbed his collar, yanking him back to me. “Where were we?” I asked, my voice playful as I pressed my lips to his once more. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I was already forgetting why we needed to stop.

His hands slid down my back, pulling me even closer, his lips moving hungrily against mine. “Right here,” he murmured between kisses. “Not going anywhere, princess.”

I laughed softly, feeling the thrill of the moment surge through me. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” I teased, even as I kissed him deeper, not caring at all about the consequences.

“Worth it,” he breathed out, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You know, you could just skip class… stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I definitely don’t want to go to class right now.”

“Who says we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and tempting as he pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “You’re such a bad influence, Riddle.”

“And you’re such a willing participant, Y/L/N,” he shot back with a smirk, pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, it was even more heated, as if the idea of sneaking around had only fueled the fire between us.

But just as things were getting even more intense, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue.”

We both pulled away quickly, turning to see Theo standing there, looking entirely too amused for my liking.

Mattheo sighed, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “Theo, mate, you’re my best friend. Can’t you find something better to do than being a cockblock?”

Theo crossed his arms, smirking. “And you two were supposed to be finding the person behind the gossip column, not making out in an empty hallway.”

At Theo's words, realization hit me like a lightning bolt. The Daily Prophet letter! It was supposed to be today! I spun around to face him. “Theo, did the letter arrive yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, nothing. You might’ve scared them off for good.”

I frowned, trying to think straight despite the lingering heat in my body from Mattheo’s touch. “That’s strange… they’ve been so consistent."

Mattheo’s hand was still on my waist, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, and despite my worry, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at his touch. I turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should probably go so I won’t be late for class,” I said softly, though every part of me wanted to stay right here with him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I can think of a few more ways to spend the time.”

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Tempting, but I’ll save that for later.” With that, I pulled away from him, giving Theo a playful wave as I hurried off down the corridor.

As I walked away, I could hear Mattheo’s voice behind me, low and teasing. “You know, Theo, sometimes I think you take your job as a third wheel a little too seriously.”

Theo’s laughter echoed through the hallway as I turned the corner, already counting down the minutes until I could see Mattheo again.

I sat in class, staring blankly at the parchment in front of me, my quill lazily tracing random lines across the page. The absence of the Daily Gossip Letter today was unsettling, and I could feel the unease settling over the classroom like a heavy fog. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing—why hadn’t it come today? The letter had become a constant, its arrival as predictable as the sunrise, yet today, there was nothing.

As I absentmindedly doodled on my notebook, my mind began to wander, trying to piece together why the letter had stopped.

But why would it stop?

I tried to focus, to pay attention to the professor’s words, but my thoughts kept wandering. The gossip letter had become a staple at Hogwarts, a daily dose of scandal that everyone had come to expect. So why would it just… stop?

Unless… unless the person behind it didn’t need it anymore.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I started to think about all the things that had been written about me in that damned letter. The gossip wasn’t just random; it was targeted, specific. Almost like someone had a personal reason.

I started recalling all the gossip that had been written about me. My so-called date with Prince Edward, which wasn’t even a real date because I had turned him down. But when I returned to school, the letter had detailed everything about it—except the rejection part, of course. That happened privately, away from prying eyes. So how did the letter know about the date in the first place? Who else was in Italy at the same time as me?

My heart began to race as I straightened in my seat, my hand shaking slightly as I wrote down the names of the only two people who could have possibly known. The first name felt wrong, implausible, but the second… my stomach twisted as I scrawled it down.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My thoughts raced back to another piece of gossip—the one about me supposedly flirting with a Durmstrang student during the Yule Ball. The truth was, I had been trying to get information about a certain dark artifact that night, and the conversation had been strictly business. Yet the letter painted a completely different picture.

Again, I scribbled down the name. My hand tightened around the quill as I recalled another instance—Time when I helped Adrian Pucey sneak into the restricted section of the library. It was late at night, and we were careful not to get caught. But the letter described it in perfect detail, down to the exact time we were there. Who else knew?

The quill in my hand quivered as I wrote down the final name. My breathing became shallow, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as all the clues finally came together, like pieces of a puzzle that I had been too blind to see. Every rumor, every piece of gossip, every little detail that had been written about me, led back to one person.

I circled the name angrily, feeling my heart break as I stared at the words on the page, the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I didn’t care that the professor was calling my name, didn’t care about the shocked whispers that followed me as I bolted out of the classroom. All I could think about was finding him, confronting him. My feet carried me quickly down the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest as I headed toward the Great Hall. But when I got there, he wasn’t among the students milling about.

I clenched my fists, trying to think. Where would he be? Then it hit me—Quidditch practice. They had the last part of the day off.

Without another thought, I made my way to the Slytherin dorms. My mind was racing, anger and betrayal twisting in my chest as I reached his door. I didn’t hesitate as I knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

When the door opened, Mattheo’s surprised expression turned into a mischievous smirk as he leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me. “Y/N? What, you miss kissing me so much you had to skip class?” His tone was playful, teasing, and he stepped aside to let me in.

I ignored the flutter in my chest and walked past him into the room. The moment he saw my face, though, his smirk faded. He closed the door and turned to me, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, as he moved closer. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sat down on his bed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. His words echoed in my mind, the ones he’d said before about how the person behind the gossip letter must want to get a reaction out of me. I looked up at him, a cold smile curling my lips. "Well, was it good?"

Mattheo frowned, confusion crossing his features. “What are we talking about now, princess?”

“The reaction you got out of me,” I said, and just like that, the smile on my face vanished, replaced by the full weight of my anger and hurt. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

His face went blank, the confusion deepening in his eyes. “Wait, Y/N—”

“Checkmate, Riddle,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up, the anger and hurt finally spilling over.

"You were the only one who knew about Italy, about what happened there. You were the one who was with me at the Yule Ball. You were there when Adrian and I sneaked into the library." My voice grew louder with each accusation, tears burning in my eyes. "All of those details, every single one of them—it was you. You were the one writing the gossip letter, weren’t you?"

Tears blurred my vision as I continued, my voice shaking with emotion. “Was it fun for you? Watching me losing my mind, seeing how much it effected me? Was it a game, Mattheo? Did you enjoy it? You said the person doing this wanted a reaction—well, congratulations, you got it. You got everything you wanted. I trusted you… I thought you cared, but you were just playing me all along.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you? Feeding me lies, watching as I fell for every trap you set. And for what? A laugh? A good story?”

“Y/N, that’s not—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I said coldly, my voice breaking. “You’ve already won, I just wonder why you didn’t write your story yet it’s a good one especially the one you —"

“Save it,” I spat out, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “You’ve already won. I just wonder why you haven’t written your final story yet—it’s a good one. Especially the part where you—"

But before I could finish, he cut me off, his voice trembling with an emotion I hadn’t expected.

"What could I have done, Y/N? What could I have possibly done?" he began, his words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "I was there, yes, I was right there with you—through all of it. But do you know why? Do you know why I couldn’t stay away?"

I froze, his words piercing through my anger like a knife. He continued, his voice thick with desperation. "I’ve loved you all this time, from the first day I got off that stupid train, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t remember a single day where I haven’t been in love with you.

He paused, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t just some stupid crush, Y/N. It was an obsession, it was madness—but it was love. I loved you, and I still love you. I was desperate… Desperate to be near you, to be a part of your life, even if it meant doing something as twisted as this."

I stood frozen."You could have just said that. You should have just told me that."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Fucking right, Y/N."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You had a damn prince crying after you rejected him," Mattheo snapped, his frustration and jealousy spilling over. "A prince, Y/N! And here I am, the son of a psychopath, the last person anyone should ever trust, much less love. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, even though my father’s the Dark Lord and everyone expects me to be just like him’? Who the hell would ever want that?"

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he continued, his voice strained. "Every day, I watched you. I saw you with your friends, with guys who could give you everything—everything. And the worst part? The worst fucking part was knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how close I got, it would never be enough. Not for someone like you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from anger. "You don’t get it, Mattheo. None of that mattered to me. None of it. I didn’t care about titles or any of that. I just wanted someone who was real with me. Someone who saw me for who I am, not just as some piece in a game."

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his expression softening. "I did see you, Y/N. That’s why I did what I did. The letters… they were my way of being close to you, of being a part of your world. But I was so scared of losing you, of you finding out what I’d done, that I just kept digging myself deeper. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway."

His voice broke on the last word, and the sight of him standing there, so vulnerable, shattered the last of my defenses.

Just as I was about to respond, movement from the next bed caught my eye. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Enzo sitting up, looking between Mattheo and me with wide, startled eyes, propped up on his elbows.

He Clearly had heard more than enough. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got this thing—relationship phobia. Can’t be around emotional confessions, they give me hives." [p.s that’s the same Enzo from Down bad pray for him]

He awkwardly shuffled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, guys. Gonna get out of here real quick. Pretend I was never here, yeah?" With that, he practically bolted out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief until the door clicked shut behind him.

This family is insane.

We both stood there in silence for a moment, the sudden interruption leaving us both a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Mattheo didn’t either.

“Y/N,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Please… say something. Anything.”

“You hurt me, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You lied to me, manipulated me."

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. But Y/N, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to keep you close.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I wiped them away furiously, hating how vulnerable I felt in this moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you have to go through all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so quiet, so broken, that it made my chest ache. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to be close to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I loved you without feeling like I was going to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But you didn’t have to do it like this, Mattheo. You didn’t have to lie to me, to manipulate me, just to be close. I would’ve—” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I would’ve loved you anyway."

Mattheo's face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion as he whispered, "You would?" His voice was barely audible, almost as if he didn’t believe the words that had just left his lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the walls I had built around myself beginning to crumble. Without a word, I got up from the bed and walked toward him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Yeah," I finally said, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him. "Because it would’ve been easy, Mattheo."

His eyes searched mine, desperate and lost, as if he was trying to find the truth in my words.

"I’ve loved you," I began, my voice cracking, "from the moment I stepped off that stupid train, too love must have been in the air that day or something. But I couldn’t let myself admit it. Instead, I pushed you away, pretended I couldn’t stand you because I was terrified—terrified of how much I wanted you, how much I needed you." Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them this time. They streamed down my face as I choked out the words I had been too afraid to say for so long. "I didn’t know how to deal with how much you consumed me, so I fought it. But it was always you, Mattheo. It was always you."

He moved closer, his hands gently cupping my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His touch was soft, so different from the way he usually carried himself—like he was afraid I might break if he wasn’t careful.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I did. I do,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned into his touch. “I just didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

Mattheo’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin as he held me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability I’d never heard from him before. “I didn’t know how to show you what I felt without messing everything up. I was so afraid of losing you that I did the exact thing that could drive you away.”

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “I know,” I whispered, my hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I know now that the letters were more about admiring me than harming me. They only felt too much when another boy was involved, and… and I get it. I get that it was your twisted way of dealing with jealousy.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense but soft, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath. “I just didn’t know how to show it without screwing it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I told him, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. “You just have to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Mattheo’s grip on me tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, for forgiveness, and I gave it to him willingly, kissing him back with all the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

As the kiss deepened, I felt the last of my walls crumble, leaving me completely vulnerable in his arms. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that despite everything, this was where I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other from here.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, my voice thick with tears and longing.

“I love you to—”

The door suddenly burst open, and Blaise walked in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He froze for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of us, and then a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t this cozy? I was just coming to grab a book, but it looks like I walked into the middle of a romance novel. Should I start narrating? ‘And in that moment, their love ignited like a house elf’s poorly managed kitchen fire…’”

I felt my face flush, and I quickly stepped back from Mattheo, wiping at my eyes. “Blaise, could you just…not?” Mattheo said .

Blaise chuckled, completely unfazed by Mattheo’s irritation. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, pretending I didn’t walk in on whatever _this_ is.” He waved his hand vaguely in our direction before sauntering over to the bookshelf.

I shot Mattheo a look, trying to stifle a laugh as Blaise exaggeratedly searched for his book, humming to himself like nothing unusual had happened.

Mattheo sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “I’m killing you after this.”

“Nuh,” Blaise called out, pulling a book from the shelf and turning back to us with a grin. “You love me.”

“Debatable,” Mattheo shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Blaise winked at me before heading toward the door. “Carry on with your dramatic declarations of love. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Mattheo looked down at me.

“Where were we?” he asked softly, pulling me back into his arms.

“I think you were about to tell me how much you love me,” I teased, my heart swelling with warmth.

“Right,” he whispered, his voice turning serious again as he leaned in to kiss me. “ Fuck yeah I love you. So much.”

[sadnymi]

Mastermind

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Lady Whistledown and Gossip Girl [ Hogwarts Version] had taken the school by storm. Every week, spoken letters delivered the latest rumors, and things were getting out of control. Y/N had finally had enough, especially when the latest gossip claimed she was dating Mattheo Riddle. Frustrated and determined to put an end to it, she went to Mattheo, asking for his help in uncovering the person behind the relentless rumors and stopping them once and for all.

Words: 15k

Warnings : fluff, smut smut smut don’t read in public you have been warning , biker boy mattheo [yes a warning] , a little angst, fluff .

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**The Daily Whisperer: Hogwarts Edition**

_Issue #47: The Gossip of the Week_

Hogwarts is buzzing with the latest speculation surrounding two of our most enigmatic students. You guessed it—Y/N Y/L/N and Mattheo Riddle.

Rumor has it that sparks are flying between these two, and if they aren't already an item, then Merlin’s beard, they definitely should be! A sighting in the library, some lingering glances in Potions class, and let’s not forget that mysterious detention they both just _happened_ to land in last week. Could this be the beginning of a legendary Hogwarts love story? But that's not all! This week’s flying letters brought us another sizzling scoop: Y/N was seen practicing dueling spells with Mattheo, and let's just say, the sparks were flying—literally. Could this be a sign of something more than just friendly competition? Stay tuned, dear readers. We’re on the case!

In other news, Y/N has been making waves not just in the rumor mill but in the academic arena as well. This ( whatever house you’re in, darling Y/N!) has been impressing professors and students alike with her spellwork and potions prowess. Is there anything she can't do? We'll keep you posted on her latest achievements and, of course, any further developments in her relationship status with a certain handsome Slytherin.

Until next time, keep your wands at the ready and your ears to the ground!

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I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes on me as I stormed through the hallways, clutching the latest edition of "Hogwarts Whispers" in my hand. My anger was palpable, a tangible force pushing people aside as they gawked at me. As I turned a corner, a group of Hufflepuffs quickly scattered, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of my wrath. My anger flared hotter. Who had the nerve to spread such nonsense? And why did it have to be always about _me_?

Finally, I spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, casually leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he exchanged easy banter with his friends. Typical.

I marched up to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. His friends wisely took a step back as I approached, but he merely glanced over at me with that infuriating smirk of his, clearly amused by my arrival.

“Riddle,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Y/L/N,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or just genuinely interested.

“We need to talk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “We need to talk?”

I huffed in frustration. “You didn’t read what that freak wrote today?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning my face for any clue. “But does that have anything to do with why people are looking at us like we are about to say our vows?”

Resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. “Come on.”

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the entire school. The last thing I needed was to give those gossipy little owls more fuel for their fire.

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked, his hand warm in mine, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any truth to what they’d written.

But I shoved that thought aside as we reached a secluded corner. I had a bone to pick with him, and I wasn’t about to let a few stray butterflies distract me.

“What are we going to do about this?” I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone else.

He just grinned, clearly unfazed. “What do you mean, Y/N? Sounds like we’re the hottest topic in school.”

My glare deepened. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo.”

“Maybe not.”

“This is absolute bullshit!” I fumed, waving the gossip letter around like it was cursed. “Why would anyone write this? Why is it always about me? Every. Single. Week!”

Mattheo leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smile on his face. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, which only fueled my irritation further.

“And then they say I’m dating you?” I threw the letter on a desk, feeling my pulse racing. “Are they insane? Where do they even get this stuff?”

He chuckled, that deep, velvety sound that always seemed to get under my skin. “I’m trying so hard not to take that personally, princess.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Riddle.”

But he didn’t stop smiling, just kept leaning against the wall, looking at me like he was thoroughly enjoying the show. My frustration bubbled over. “Why are you so calm about this? This is serious! People are staring at us in the hallways! It’s like they’ve all got nothing better to do than imagine some ridiculous romance between us.”

“Well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward me, “can you blame them? You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t funny. We need to find out who’s behind this, and you’re going to help me.”

Mattheo pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to me. "You want me to help you track down the identity of…" he paused, a playful glint in his eyes, "Madam Matchmaker?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Would you do that?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I would never say no to my girlfriend."

"Shut up, Riddle." I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat despite the anger still boiling inside me. "I’m not your girlfriend," I insisted, my voice lacking the conviction I’d hoped for.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. "That’s not what the whole school is saying."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Shut up, Riddle."

"Don't you see how ridiculous this is?" I asked, exasperated.

He tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Oh, I see it, alright. But I've got to admit, I don't mind being linked to you, Y/N. It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you."

"Shut up, Riddle."

He laughed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know, if you keep telling me to shut up, I might just have to find another way to occupy my mouth."

"You… you’re —-!"

"And yet, here you are, asking me for help. You must like something about me, Y/N."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I like the idea of you doing something useful for once. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened up, still smiling but with a more serious glint in his eyes. "Of course I’ll help you. But you owe me one."

"Fine," I grumbled, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

The next day, I stormed into the Great Hall, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment in my hand. I barely noticed the whispers that trailed behind me as I made a beeline for the Slytherin table, my eyes locking onto Mattheo, who was lounging back in his seat, looking completely unbothered by the chaos swirling around us.

I slammed the parchment down in front of him, making a few Slytherins glance over in curiosity.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a list,” I said, taking a seat across from him and ignoring the way his friends were watching us with interest. “A list of suspects. I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities, and we need to figure out who’s responsible.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

I pointed to the first name on the list. “First, there’s Carla knight. She’s always had it out for me ever since that incident in Potions last year. You know, she’s been looking for a way to get back at me ever since, she’s petty enough to spread rumors, and she’s got the connections to get them published.”

“True,” Mattheo mused, leaning back in his chair. “But Carla’s too obvious, don’t you think? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, moving on to the next name. “Then there’s John Gary. He’s always been the quiet type, but that just makes him more dangerous. He’s close to the source, and he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”

Mattheo nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting."

"What about Lavender Brown? She’s always gossiping, and she’s got this diary she carries around everywhere. What if she’s the one writing this stuff down and sending it off to ‘Hogwarts Whispers’?"

"Lavender’s a possibility," Mattheo admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "But she’s more into writing about her own love life than anyone else’s. I doubt she’d be focused enough to keep tabs on us."

I grumbled under my breath and tapped my quill against the parchment, staring at the remaining names. "Then who could it be? I’ve gone through almost everyone who’s likely to be involved in this kind of thing, and none of them make sense!"

Mattheo didn’t respond immediately, and I looked up to find him just staring at me, a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing? Were you even listening?" I demanded, feeling my frustration rise again.

His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before he finally spoke. "Oh, I was listening, princess. It’s just hard to focus when you’re looking so damn determined. It’s… distracting."

My heart did a little flip, but I shoved that feeling down and crossed my arms. "This is serious, Riddle. Someone is spreading lies about us, and you’re just sitting here, smirking like it’s all a joke."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still locked on mine. "I’m not laughing at you. I’m just appreciating how hard you’re trying to solve this little mystery. It’s kind of… sexy."

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let him derail me. "Stop with the compliments, Mattheo. This is important."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Riddle. I’m serious."

"So am I," he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat, his gaze still locked on mine. "But if you want to focus on this little mystery instead of the much more interesting topic of us, then go ahead."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least don’t make this harder than it already is."

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to spend time with me than concocting elaborate schemes to solve a mystery that might not even have a culprit."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe someone’s just trying to push us together, and it’s working. Ever thought about that?"

"Shut up, Riddle," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. "Only if you make me."

I reached out to smack his arm. "Stop acting like that. This is serious!"

In a flash, Mattheo’s hand shot out, catching my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His smile was both mischievous and reassuring as he looked at me. "Alright, but only because you’re so charming when you’re worked up."

I pulled my wrist free, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Just—stop distracting me. I need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets any worse."

Mattheo leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving mixture of amusement and interest. "Indeed, lead the way. I’m all ears."

For the rest of the week, I was on a mission. Every day, I dragged Mattheo around the school, from the library to the common rooms, and even to the less frequented corners of the castle. Despite his usual nonchalance, Mattheo followed along without question, his only response being that knowing smile he always seemed to have when he was around me.

We spent hours poring over potential suspects, analyzing their motives, and investigating their whereabouts. Each time I got frustrated or hit a dead end, Mattheo would patiently listen, never interrupting, and only offering occasional comments that were either strangely insightful or just plain distracting.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I finally vented my frustrations. "This is ridiculous. I’ve talked to nearly everyone I can think of, and no one seems to know anything. It’s like we’re running in circles."

Mattheo’s hand brushed against mine as he walked beside me, and I could feel the warmth of his touch even through our robes. "Maybe you’re looking too hard. Sometimes, the answer isn’t in what people say but in what they don’t."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the week’s frustration pressing down on me. "I just don’t get it. Why would someone target me like this?"

He glanced at me, his expression softening. "Maybe they’re trying to get a reaction out of you."

His words, though comforting, did little to ease my worries. I shook my head and kept walking, the silence between us stretching as we turned another corner. "I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm about all this. I’m losing my mind trying to figure this out."

"You’re doing great."

"Thanks, Mattheo."

He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Besides, it’s been… interesting, spending all this time with you. I’d say it’s been the highlight of my week."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Oh, is that so? I’m glad to be your highlight, Riddle."

He grinned, his usual mischievous glint in his eye. "You should be. And if you ever need me to be a distraction! again, just let me know."

" I hope not."

As we turned another corner in the castle, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from his usual playful smirk to something more serious. "Go on a date with me."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly confident look on his face. "Let’s go on a date."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "Why would I—what are you even talking about? We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s spreading these rumors, not giving them more fuel for the fire!"

"Exactly," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we go on a date, we can see who’s watching us, who’s interested in what we’re doing. It’ll flush out the culprit. And with the weekend coming up, whoever’s behind this will be desperate for more gossip to spread. We’ll be able to figure it out, Y/N."

I shook my head, utterly incredulous. "Absolutely not. I’m not going on a date with you."

"Why not?" he asked, his smirk returning as he stepped closer, his presence as magnetic as ever. "It’s the perfect plan. We’ll be able to spot who’s paying too much attention to us."

"Because," I stammered, feeling my heart race as he closed the distance between us, "it’s ridiculous! You’re just trying to mess with me. I know you, Mattheo. You don’t actually care about solving this, you just want to—"

"Want to what?" he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. "Think about it, Y/N. We go out, see who’s watching, think of it as an experiment. A way to gather evidences. You like evidence, don’t you?"

"I’m not going on a date with you. I refuse to give these gossips exactly what they want. I’m not some pawn in their game, and I’m certainly not going to parade around with you just to see who’s got their eyes on us."

He just kept smiling, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriatingly calm, knowing look. "You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it’s the best way to figure this out."

"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "There’s no way I’m doing it. This is absurd, and I’m not falling for it. You’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" he echoed, taking another step closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "Shut up, Riddle."

He didn’t move, his smirk widening as his gaze held mine. "You tell me to shut up again, and I will kiss the fuck out of you, princess."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "That’s the deal. You say it again, and I won’t hold back."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could barely form a coherent thought as his words sank in. "You—you’re insane."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low and full of intent. "But I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to figure this out—with you."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. "Or is it just that you’re afraid you might actually enjoy it?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I was too flustered to think straight. His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming.

"This is stupid," I muttered, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance.

"That’s not a ‘no’."

I glared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "But this is strictly for the sake of finding out who’s behind the rumors."

Mattheo’s grin widened. "Of course, princess. Strictly business."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a lid on the flurry of emotions swirling inside me. "You have to behave, Riddle. No funny business, no flirting. Just… business."

"I’ll be on my best behavior."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just playing me. "Somehow, I doubt that."

He chuckled, leaning in slightly saying in a mocking tone. "Your doubt wounds me, Y/N. My favorite thing to do is to be a good boy for you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, whatever you say."

"So," he continued, ignoring my skepticism, "tomorrow, then?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Mattheo’s gaze softened, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Don’t be nervous. And try not to think about me too much tonight."

I scoffed, giving him a withering look. "In your dreams, Riddle."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. "Oh, believe me, darling. You’re in my dreams every night. But we’re not just talking in them."

My face burned as I smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I’m going to just kill you someday and stop the rumors you’re insufferable, you know that?"

He just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

"I don’t have a choice," I shot back, starting to walk toward my dormitory with him following close behind.

"Ah, but you do," he said smoothly, keeping pace with me. "And you’re choosing to be here with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

I ignored him, focusing on the corridor ahead, even as I felt his gaze lingering on me.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing. "You know, tomorrow’s going to be fun. You’ll see."

I rolled my eyes, still facing forward. "If by ‘fun’ you mean torturous, then sure."

Mattheo’s laughter echoed through the corridor, warm and rich. "Torturous for you, maybe. But for me? It’ll be heaven."

I stopped in front of my dormitory, turning to face him. "This is where we part ways."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "For now. But you know, you can always invite me in if you’re feeling lonely."

Pushing him away lightly I said. "Not a chance, Riddle."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Worth a shot."

I gave him a look, and for once, he seemed to back down. "Alright, alright. Sleep well, Y/N. And try not to think too much about tomorrow. Or about me."

I slammed the door shut in his face, cutting off his words, but I could still hear his low chuckle from the other side. Then I leaned against the door, trying to steady my racing heart.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been on plenty of dates before, so why does this one feel different? I’ve had Quidditch players asking me out, and even the prince of Eldoria once tried his luck, but none of that made me feel as nervous as I am right now. And this isn’t even a real date. It’s just a… mission, right?

I stared at the mess of clothes strewn across my room, feeling utterly lost. Is this too much? Will I be overdressed if I wear it? Or is this too casual? And I can’t stop thinking about him—nope, we won’t do that. We won’t think about him or what he’s going to wear. Or not wear. No, absolutely not. We are not thinking about him without clothes. That can’t happen. I can’t stand Mattheo, right?

But why? Why can’t I stand him? I can’t remember anymore. Maybe it’s because he makes me feel so damn nervous? And I hate that. I hate losing control. I love having control over everything, and Merlin knows he wasn’t helping with that. It’s like every cell in my body is screaming, and I mean every single one.

I finally settled on a small black dress, letting my hair fall naturally around my shoulders. I added a touch of makeup and a simple necklace, convincing myself that I was doing this for me. It’s a good chance to get dressed up and look good—to myself, right? I always do. I’m a fashion icon, and I always dress well. Not for any certain someone with beautiful eyes and hair and a body that—nope, stop it, Y/N. We’re not going there.

I took a deep breath and walked out of my dorm, only to find Mattheo standing just outside my door, hand raised as if he was about to knock. He was dressed all in black, and oh, Merlin, that shirt was doing things to me.

His eyes slowly raking up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking, and when his gaze finally reached my face, it lingered on my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Matching," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "You always wear black or gray, It’s hardly a coincidence Mattheo."

His smirk widened as he took a step closer. "Oh, baby, so you were trying to match with me?"

"What? Of course not!" I shot back, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would’ve liked. He laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "If you don’t stop, I’m going back inside and forgetting about this so-called date,"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely breathtaking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to focus on anything but you tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, though I could feel my cheeks heating up. "You’re so insufferable."

"And you’re so beautiful," he replied smoothly, taking my hand in his. "Now come on. Let’s get out of here."

I allowed him to lead me out of the castle, my heart pounding harder with every step. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I promise it’s something you’ll like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you’re up to something, Riddle, I swear—"

"Oh, I’m definitely up to something," he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he glanced over at me, his eyes darkening slightly. "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Maybe even more than you expect."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice steady. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who said I was trying to fool you?" he shot back, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I tried to ignore the way his words made my pulse quicken. "You’re being annoyingly cryptic, you know that?"

"It’s part of my charm," he replied , his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "And besides, it’s worth the suspense, don’t you think?"

I looked at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I think you’re enjoying this far too much."

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with a mischievous glint. "Oh, I am. But don’t pretend you aren’t, too."

As Mattheo led me down the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb was now tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine, and I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.

My breath hitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "You’re really pushing it, Riddle."

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I pushed him away pretending to be annoyed it’s actually better to show him that I was so turned on. "Let’s just get this over with."

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to inject some firmness into my voice, though it came out softer than I intended.

Mattheo glanced at me, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Patience, darling."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words got caught in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a wave, but it did little to quell the heat burning inside me.

“You look like you’re trying really hard not to think about what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What… what are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, pulling me closer until our bodies were nearly touching. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. About what it would feel like.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flooded my body at his words. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t letting him get to me like this. But when he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my hip, I could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, though it was clear even to me that I was lying.

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been thinking about it. And the best part? So have I.”

I blinked up at him, trying to form a coherent response when he suddenly smirked and pointed behind me. “Relax, darling. I was talking about the ride I’m going to give you tonight.”

I followed his gaze and saw a sleek black motorcycle parked nearby. “Wait… what?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

His smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What were _you_ thinking about?”

“Nothing!” I shot back, far too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. He started walking toward the bike, and I followed, my steps hesitant.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle as if it had personally offended me.

He looked at me with exaggerated innocence. “This? It’s a bike. You know, that thing with two wheels that goes vroom?”

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what it is. I’m asking why you’re near it.”

He leaned against the bike, looking far too smug for his own good."Because we’re taking it for a ride, obviously."

“Mattheo, you didn’t… Where did you even get this from?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He grinned mischievously. “Stole it.”

My eyes widened, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “Kidding, darling. Just get on.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether I should turn around and walk back inside. But something about the way he was looking at me—challenging, teasing—made me pause. I cursed under my breath and reluctantly walked over to the bike.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but curse myself for wearing a dress. Of all nights, why did I choose tonight to be impractical? I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the bike, careful not to flash him.

“Need some help there?”

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, finally managing to get on the bike without embarrassing myself too much.

He turned to face me, and suddenly, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His hands reached up, and he gently placed a helmet on my head, securing the strap under my chin. The simple act was far more intimate than it had any right to be, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might want to hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my hands. “If you crash this thing, I’m killing you,” I muttered against his back.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.”

he started the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath us. I tightened my grip on him as we took off, the wind whipping through my hair. The cool night air rushed past us, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Mattheo’s body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he maneuvered the bike through the darkened streets.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” he called over the sound of the wind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Riddle.”

He laughed again, but there was a dark edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I am. But I can’t help but think about how good you feel pressed up against me.”

My cheeks burned, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. “Shut up, Mattheo.”

" careful baby remember our deal?"

“Mattheo—”

“ Yes,princess?"

" don’t open your mouth please."

He laughed " Why? You don’t like it when I talk about how your hands feel on me? Or how I can feel every little movement you make?”

“No—”

“Or maybe it’s the way you’re clinging to me right now,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more seductive. “Like you can’t get close enough. Like you don’t want this ride to end.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way his words were making my heart race even faster. He was doing this on purpose, and damn him, it was working.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He slowed the bike down slightly, and I felt him lean back just enough to speak directly into my ear. “Too late for that, darling. You’re driving me crazy.”

My breath caught, and I tightened my grip on him, unsure if it was to steady myself or if it was because part of me wanted him to pull over.

“Mattheo…” I warned, but my voice was weak, trembling.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “Relax."

Every time he took a sharp turn or sped up, my grip on him tightened, and he would laugh softly, his voice full of that infuriating confidence. “You sure you’re not nervous?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, though my heart was racing for more reasons than just the speed of the bike.

“Good.”

As Mattheo slowed the bike to a stop, I looked around and felt a jolt of unease settle in my stomach. The area was dimly lit, with groups of people loitering around, looking like trouble. The girls wore little more than scraps of fabric, their heavy makeup making their eyes look like dark smudges in the faint light. The guys weren’t any better—tough, dangerous, and clearly up to no good.

I turned to Mattheo, my voice tinged with irritation and confusion. “What the hell, Mattheo?”

He smirked, swinging his leg off the bike. “What? I thought you’d appreciate something different from the fancy dates you’re used to. Oh, remind me again, where did Prince Edward take you to?”

“He didn’t,” I snapped back, dismounting the bike as gracefully as possible while trying to keep my dress in place. “Because I turned the date down.”

Mattheo’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. “How bad for him.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing around nervously. “There’s no one from school here, right? I mean, how is the gossip mill going to work if they don’t notice us?”

He leaned against the bike, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, they won’t.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous.

He laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll be more likely to be notice here than some fancy place, don’t you think?”

I frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Probably, yeah. Any normal person would feel so out of place here.”

I was about to step off the bike when I felt his hands suddenly on my hips, his grip firm. “No, not like that, princess.”

“What?” I managed to say, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as he effortlessly swung off the bike first. Then, without warning, he placed his hands on my waist again and lifted me off the bike as if I weighed nothing.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to get a look at the show I had a minutes ago,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

My face flushed crimson, and I struggled to maintain my composure as his hands stayed on my waist, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, almost claiming, and I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me despite the chaotic surroundings.

“So, do I need to keep my wand close?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious as we neared the group.

Mattheo chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

As we walked through the crowd, people began to notice Mattheo, their eyes lighting up with recognition. A couple of guys came over, greeting him with casual nods and low murmurs.

“Riddle! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” one of them said, a tall guy with a crooked grin.

Another guy came up, clapping Mattheo on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Thought you’d ditched us for good.”

“Nah,” Mattheo replied casually. “Just been busy.”

“Yeah, thought you were too good for us these days,” another chimed in, smirking.

Mattheo just shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. “Can’t forget where I came from.”

Before I could process what that meant, a girl suddenly appeared, practically throwing herself at Mattheo. She had wild, dark hair and wore a top that could barely be called clothing. “Matty! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she purred, her hands already trailing over his chest. Then, she noticed me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up.

I met her gaze, lifting my chin defiantly as I looked her over. She was all beautiful and confidence, but something about her screamed desperate. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that flared in my chest. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Who’s this?” she asked Mattheo, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mattheo’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She’s My girl,” he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

The girl’s eyes narrowed further as she gave me another once-over. I met her gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Got a problem with that?” I asked, my tone sweet but laced with a clear challenge.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes were still cold. She turned back to Mattheo, trying to regain his attention. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, now you know,” I said firmly, stepping closer to Mattheo as if staking my claim.

She shot me one last glare before reluctantly backing off, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this one. I watched her go, feeling oddly victorious, even as my heart pounded in my chest.

Mattheo’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, though my face was still flushed.

“Right,” he drawled, clearly not believing me.

Mattheo guided me through the throngs of people, his hand never leaving my waist as we made our way toward a secluded area. The crowd seemed to part for him, everyone stepping aside as if they knew better than to get in his way. He led me to a corner of the warehouse where a small, dimly lit bar was nestled. The area was quieter, more exclusive, with plush leather couches and a polished wooden bar that gave it an air of importance.

“This is where the VIPs hang out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped into the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—a private sanctuary within the madness.

Mattheo smirked, pulling out a barstool for me before taking a seat himself. “You could say that. Only those who matter get to hang out here.”

I settled onto the stool, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And I’m guessing you’re one of those people?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think, Princess?”

“I think you like making a scene wherever you go,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light despite the way my heart was racing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The bartender, a grizzled-looking man with a permanent scowl, approached us, his gaze flickering over me before settling on Mattheo.

“Riddle,” the bartender said in greeting, his voice gruff. “Been a while.”

“Hey, Greg,” Mattheo replied, his voice casual. “How’s business?”

Greg grunted, grabbing a glass and starting to mix a drink. “Same old, same old. You finally got yourself a date, eh?”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. “Something like that.”

Greg's eyes flickered over to me again, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He took in my dress and my slightly flustered demeanor, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “She's a fancy one, ain't she?” he commented, continuing to mix the drinks.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Mattheo agreed, his hand caressing my thigh. “But she’s all mine.”

I suppressed a shiver at the touch, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I shot Mattheo a glare. He just smirked in response.

"Noted." Greg set our drinks down in front of us, a shot of dark liquor for Mattheo and something orange and frothy for me. “On the house,” he said gruffly, before moving to serve other customers.

"Can you tell me why those people know you? And how the hell are you so well-known like a famous celebrity here?"

Mattheo takes a sip of his drink, a smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates my question. “I wouldn’t say famous, darling. But I’ve spent a lot of time here... Let’s just say I know my way around.”

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not a real answer.”

He grins, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it's a perfectly real answer. You just don't like it.”

"And what about this girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That’s Layla. She’s part of this crowd… a regular here, I guess you could say.”

“And you… know her well?”

He shrugs, his hand going back to rest on my thigh. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, yeah.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause, a flicker of jealousy stirring in my chest.

He takes another sip of his drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

I scowl at his non-answer. “You’re the one who keeps avoiding them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing lazy circles on my thigh. “I just like seeing you get all worked up, princess.”

“So what’s your definition of crossing paths?” I ask, pressing him further.

He pauses, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Layla and I have... hooked up a few times. Nothing serious, just casual stuff.”

My heart sinks, a mix of jealousy and disappointment flickering inside me. I try to mask it, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered me.

��And what about now? Is she still in the picture?”

His hand tightens slightly on my thigh, and I feel him tense for a moment. Then he turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing mine as he answers, “No, she’s not.”

“Good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “because this whole act would be a lot less convincing if you were involved with more than one girl.”

Mattheo chuckles, the sound low and rich, as his fingers tighten their grip on my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “And here I thought you were just in this for the show,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more seductive.

“I am,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart. “But even in an act, there are rules.”

“Rules, huh?” He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, his breath warm against my skin. “And what are those rules, princess?”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. I need to stay in control, to remind myself that this is just an act. “Like keeping your hands to yourself,” I whisper, but the words come out more breathless than I intended.

He chuckles again, a dark, knowing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand slides further up my thigh, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We’re supposed to be pretending,” I manage to say, my voice betraying the strain of keeping up the facade.

“Are we?” His lips graze the corner of my mouth, his words a challenge, daring me to keep up the pretense.

I turn my head slightly, our noses nearly touching, my breath mingling with his. “Yes,” I whisper, but it’s clear neither of us believes it anymore.

“So, just an act?” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod, barely managing to keep my composure. “Just an act,” I reply, though the words feel like a lie.

He tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But we might as well convince them, right?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that says he’s not playing anymore.

I should pull away, tell him no, remind him that this is all part of the charade. But I can’t. My resolve crumbles as I look into his eyes, the intensity there pulling me in, refusing to let go.

“Right,” I whisper, my voice betraying me.

Before I can take another breath, his mouth was on mine, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. Then, his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and I gasped, giving him the opening he needed.

His tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing, coaxing mine into a heated dance that left me dizzy. The kiss was all-consuming, each stroke of his tongue demanding a response that I couldn’t help but give. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, a promise of everything he could make me feel.

Mattheo’s hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until I was practically melting into him. He sucked on my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more of him, of this.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, the praise like gasoline to the fire already burning inside me. The words sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, tracing the curve of my spine—as he guided me to straddle his lap. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hardness pressing against me, a reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. His words were a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Mattheo,” I breathed, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more, to give more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin as his hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him. The friction was maddening, each roll of my hips sending waves of pleasure through me that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a hunger that made my heart race.

“Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him, desperate for more. His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he guided my movements, his lips capturing mine again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, primal, a clash of tongues and teeth that left me trembling in his arms.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire as his hands slid under my dress, tracing the edges of my panties. “Such a good girl for me.” The praise was almost too much, his mouth was on mine, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body as I arched into him, needing him to do something, anything to relieve the ache between my thighs.

Reality crashed down on me like a cold wave, dousing the fire that had been raging between us. I was kissing Mattheo Riddle—not just kissing him, but grinding against him in a dark, dingy bar, losing control in a way that was so unlike me.

Breathless, I shook my head, my hands still resting on his chest, but I pushed him away just enough to create space between us. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort to regain control.

“Why not?” he murmured.

His hands remained on my hips, firm but not forceful, as if he knew I could—and might—pull away at any moment.

“It’s wrong,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Wrong didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

“It feels so right to me,” he countered, his voice low.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my resolve wavering as I felt the heat of his body so close to mine, the pull of his gaze making it almost impossible to think clearly. I was losing myself, losing the control I prided myself on, every time I was near him.

“Mattheo, I want to go,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though the longing in me betrayed how much I wanted to stay, to give in.

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he stood up, his hand falling away from my thigh. He kept close to me as we made our way out of the bar, his presence a constant, protective shield, yet he didn’t touch me. And damn, I hated that—hated how much I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands on me again, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

We reached his bike, and he stood between me and the prying eyes of anyone passing by, shielding me as I climbed on. He still didn’t touch me, and it was driving me insane, the absence of his touch making me crave it even more. I hated myself for it, for wanting him so badly that it was all I could think about.

He climbed on the bike in front of me, starting the engine with a low rumble. My hands automatically went to his waist, and as soon as I made contact, it was like an electric current shot through me. My mind was a mess, a chaotic whirl of thoughts and emotions, and my body—oh, my body—was screaming for more, for him.

I clenched my hands tighter around him, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the tension inside me was unbearable. The battle raging within me, between what I wanted and what I knew was right, was tearing me apart.

“Stop, Mattheo,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the night.

He didn’t respond at first, but I felt his body tense under my hands. “What?” he asked, his voice tight, uncertain.

“I said stop,” I repeated, louder this time, and he immediately pulled the bike over to the side of the road, the engine cutting off with a final, ominous growl.

We were on a dark, deserted forest road, the trees casting long, eerie shadows under the moonlight. I got off the bike quickly, putting distance between us, trying to get a grip on the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I walked a few steps away, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me.

I turned around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him, standing there, taking off his helmet. His eyes were on me, intense, questioning, filled with something that made my heart race all over again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running back to him, my resolve crumbling to dust. I crashed into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his with a desperation I couldn’t control.

His response was immediate, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, raw passion that left me breathless. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, devouring, claiming me in a way that made my knees weak.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the bike with my back against the handlebars, my legs on either side of him as he stepped between them, his body pressing into mine. The cold metal of the bike contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, the hard, unyielding surface beneath me a stark reminder of how exposed, how vulnerable I was.

But I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me, needing him to take away the ache that was consuming me from the inside out.

His hands roamed over me, possessive, claiming, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into his mouth. He was everywhere—his touch, his taste, his scent—overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left but him.

“Mattheo,” I breathed against his lips, my hands sliding up to cup his face, holding him to me as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, dark and wild. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, both a challenge and a plea.

And he did. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips descending on mine once more, claiming me, possessing me. The kiss was hard, demanding, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sending shockwaves through me that left me breathless, trembling in his arms.

his hand tracing a teasing line down my side. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “If I were to slip my hand between those pretty thighs right now, would I find you soaking wet, princess?”

A shiver ran through me, his words setting my skin on fire.

“You’d have to do it to find out,” I whispered back, my voice shaky.

His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed the fabric of my dress up, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core, making me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with praise that sent another rush of heat through me. His hand moved higher, inching closer to where I needed him most, but he took his time, teasing me, making me squirm against him.

When his fingers finally reached the edge of my panties, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he slid one finger along the slick fabric, barely touching me but enough to make my breath hitch.

I bit my lip, fighting back a moan as he continued to tease me, his finger tracing lazy circles over my clit through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening, the light touch just enough to drive me crazy but not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need inside me.

“Let’s see how wet you really are,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside my panties, his fingers brushing against my slick folds. The contact was enough to make me moan, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.

His finger slid along my slit, collecting my wetness before he pressed it against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had me arching into his touch, desperate for more. “You’re drenched,” he murmured, his voice laced with approval, his breath hot against my neck as he continued to work me over.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as he curled his finger, finding that perfect spot that made me see stars. He added another finger, the stretch delicious as he pumped them in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit with every movement.

“Look at you princess.” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he continued to finger me, his pace steady and relentless. “You like knowing we’re still in public, don’t you, Y/N? That’s so unlike you….”

His words made my head spin, the combination of his dirty talk and the way his fingers worked me over was too much, too overwhelming. “Nothing I do when I’m with you is like me,” I admitted, my voice breathless as I bucked against his hand, craving more of the pleasure only he could give me. “But nothing has ever felt this good.”

He groaned at my confession, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had me seeing stars. “Good girl,” he praised again, his voice filled with pride and lust as he kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that left me breathless.

I kissed him back with equal fervor, losing myself in the feel of him, the way his fingers worked me over, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in just the right way, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me that made my entire body tremble.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled against my lips, his fingers moving faster, harder, the wet sounds of his fingers working me over filling the dark, empty forest around us. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, princess? Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

His words were my undoing, the praise and the dirty talk too much for me to handle. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless, clinging to him for support as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Mattheo didn’t stop, his fingers working me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I was nothing but a trembling, panting mess in his arms. He finally slowed his movements, gently pulling his fingers out of me and bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked onto mine as he licked them clean.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction as he pulled me in for another searing kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, letting me taste myself on him.

I kissed him back, my heart racing, my body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just done to me. I knew we were still out in the open, knew that anyone could have seen us, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel, the way he could break down every wall I’d ever built around myself with just a touch, a word, a kiss.

breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “Would you let me tease you, princess? Let me take my time driving you wild until you’re begging for me?”

His voice was dark, dripping with lust and promise, the words alone sending a shiver down my spine. I could only nod, still panting, my body trembling from the aftershocks of my release. The anticipation of what he was about to do had my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked at my response, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider. I gasped as the cool air brushed against my heated core, my entire body thrumming with a desperate need for more.

Mattheo took his time, starting with a slow, deliberate kiss on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His lips were soft, his tongue darting out to taste my skin as he worked his way up, inch by agonizing inch. Each kiss, each lick, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my thighs tremble in anticipation.

He alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing licks, his tongue tracing patterns up my inner thigh. The closer he got to where I wanted him most, the more my hips began to shift, desperate for him to end the torment. But he didn’t rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

When he finally reached the apex of my thighs, he paused, his breath warm against my soaked folds. The anticipation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming for him to touch me, to give me the release I was so desperately craving.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement as he kissed the sensitive skin right beside where I ached for him most.

And then, without warning, his tongue was on me, the first long, slow lick sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as his tongue slid over my folds, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.

He took his time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firm, deliberate strokes of his tongue over my clit. Every touch was electric, every swirl of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was already so sensitive, still reeling from my first orgasm, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “I’m just getting started.”

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. The combination of his mouth and the steady rhythm of his tongue was driving me wild, the pleasure building so quickly that it was almost overwhelming.

He kept at it, his tongue working in tandem with his lips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs were trembling, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coiled tight in my belly, ready to snap.

And then he pushed me over the edge, his tongue curling around my clit in a way that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm tore through me, the pleasure so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover as he continued to work me through my release, his tongue lapping up every bit of my arousal. The overstimulation was mind-blowing, each flick of his tongue sending another shockwave through my already oversensitive body.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice raw from the intensity of it all. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he continued his assault on my clit, his fingers sliding back inside me to curl against that spot that made me see stars. “You’re going to cum again, princess. I want to feel you fall apart for me one more time.”

I could barely form a coherent thought, my mind completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving me. I could only nod, my body already climbing toward that peak again, the intensity of it making my head spin.

He finally pulled away, his hands gently holding my thighs as I came down from the high, my body still trembling with the aftershocks. I was completely spent, my mind foggy with pleasure, but Mattheo just grinned up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed my inner thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “I could do this all night.”

Tears of pleasure welled in my eyes as I reached for Mattheo, pulling him up to me. I could feel my makeup smeared, my face wet with tears that I knew had streaked down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, about the way his lips met mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.

He kissed me with a hunger that matched my own, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious, even as I reached down, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. I could feel how hard he was, could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only made me more desperate, more eager to feel all of him.

But then, to my surprise, he pulled back slightly, his hand catching mine. “No,” he murmured, his voice firm, but there was something in his tone that made me pause, that made me look up into his eyes, confused.

“What? Why?” I asked, my breath hitching, my heart pounding in my chest. The need in me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t understand why he would stop now, not when we were both so clearly on the edge.

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t mocking. It was low and full of a raw affection that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me again, slow and deep, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, his thumb brushing gently over my tear-streaked cheek.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to bend you over this bike and take you right now, right here,” he whispered, and the words alone were enough to make my legs go weak.

“Then do it,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with both need and frustration. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment; I just wanted him.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine, his thumb still tracing the line of my cheek.

“No,” he repeated, and before I could protest, before I could beg, he continued, his voice soft but filled with a determination that left me breathless. “When I get to have you, Y/N, I want it to be when I can take my time, when I can make you feel everything I’ve been dying to give you. I don’t want to rush this, to take you in some dark forest where anyone could see. You deserve more than that, more than just a quick fuck.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity, in the sheer weight of what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted more than just my body; he wanted all of me, and he wanted it to be right.

I was speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, and all I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he had just said. “Mattheo…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one gentle, full of a tenderness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"Not here, not like this. I want to take my time with you, princess. I want to feel every inch of you, taste every part of you, and make you mine in every possible way.”

I could only nod, tears slipping down my cheeks as I kissed him back, pouring all of my emotions into that kiss. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but I knew he was right. This—whatever it was between us—was more than just a physical need. It was something deeper, something that deserved to be treated with the care and attention he was promising.

We were supposed to be heading to class, but with Mattheo Riddle standing this close, logic and responsibility seemed to melt away. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, and I could barely think straight. His hand was firmly on my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough, and I had to admit, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the back of my mind, I knew we were in a hallway, but everything else was a blur. All I could focus on was the way Mattheo’s lips moved against mine, the way his other hand slid up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. My eyes flew open, and Mattheo reacted instantly, pulling me into a nearby alcove and pressing a hand gently over my mouth. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of almost being caught. I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept onto my lips as I peeked up at him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, and he had that signature smirk of his as we both listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. The Ravenclaw group passed by, completely oblivious to our presence. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how close we had come to being caught.

As soon as they were out of sight, I grinned and grabbed his collar, yanking him back to me. “Where were we?” I asked, my voice playful as I pressed my lips to his once more. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I was already forgetting why we needed to stop.

His hands slid down my back, pulling me even closer, his lips moving hungrily against mine. “Right here,” he murmured between kisses. “Not going anywhere, princess.”

I laughed softly, feeling the thrill of the moment surge through me. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” I teased, even as I kissed him deeper, not caring at all about the consequences.

“Worth it,” he breathed out, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You know, you could just skip class… stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I definitely don’t want to go to class right now.”

“Who says we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and tempting as he pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “You’re such a bad influence, Riddle.”

“And you’re such a willing participant, Y/L/N,” he shot back with a smirk, pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, it was even more heated, as if the idea of sneaking around had only fueled the fire between us.

But just as things were getting even more intense, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue.”

We both pulled away quickly, turning to see Theo standing there, looking entirely too amused for my liking.

Mattheo sighed, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “Theo, mate, you’re my best friend. Can’t you find something better to do than being a cockblock?”

Theo crossed his arms, smirking. “And you two were supposed to be finding the person behind the gossip column, not making out in an empty hallway.”

At Theo's words, realization hit me like a lightning bolt. The Daily Prophet letter! It was supposed to be today! I spun around to face him. “Theo, did the letter arrive yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, nothing. You might’ve scared them off for good.”

I frowned, trying to think straight despite the lingering heat in my body from Mattheo’s touch. “That’s strange… they’ve been so consistent."

Mattheo’s hand was still on my waist, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, and despite my worry, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at his touch. I turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should probably go so I won’t be late for class,” I said softly, though every part of me wanted to stay right here with him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I can think of a few more ways to spend the time.”

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Tempting, but I’ll save that for later.” With that, I pulled away from him, giving Theo a playful wave as I hurried off down the corridor.

As I walked away, I could hear Mattheo’s voice behind me, low and teasing. “You know, Theo, sometimes I think you take your job as a third wheel a little too seriously.”

Theo’s laughter echoed through the hallway as I turned the corner, already counting down the minutes until I could see Mattheo again.

I sat in class, staring blankly at the parchment in front of me, my quill lazily tracing random lines across the page. The absence of the Daily Gossip Letter today was unsettling, and I could feel the unease settling over the classroom like a heavy fog. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing—why hadn’t it come today? The letter had become a constant, its arrival as predictable as the sunrise, yet today, there was nothing.

As I absentmindedly doodled on my notebook, my mind began to wander, trying to piece together why the letter had stopped.

But why would it stop?

I tried to focus, to pay attention to the professor’s words, but my thoughts kept wandering. The gossip letter had become a staple at Hogwarts, a daily dose of scandal that everyone had come to expect. So why would it just… stop?

Unless… unless the person behind it didn’t need it anymore.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I started to think about all the things that had been written about me in that damned letter. The gossip wasn’t just random; it was targeted, specific. Almost like someone had a personal reason.

I started recalling all the gossip that had been written about me. My so-called date with Prince Edward, which wasn’t even a real date because I had turned him down. But when I returned to school, the letter had detailed everything about it—except the rejection part, of course. That happened privately, away from prying eyes. So how did the letter know about the date in the first place? Who else was in Italy at the same time as me?

My heart began to race as I straightened in my seat, my hand shaking slightly as I wrote down the names of the only two people who could have possibly known. The first name felt wrong, implausible, but the second… my stomach twisted as I scrawled it down.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My thoughts raced back to another piece of gossip—the one about me supposedly flirting with a Durmstrang student during the Yule Ball. The truth was, I had been trying to get information about a certain dark artifact that night, and the conversation had been strictly business. Yet the letter painted a completely different picture.

Again, I scribbled down the name. My hand tightened around the quill as I recalled another instance—Time when I helped Adrian Pucey sneak into the restricted section of the library. It was late at night, and we were careful not to get caught. But the letter described it in perfect detail, down to the exact time we were there. Who else knew?

The quill in my hand quivered as I wrote down the final name. My breathing became shallow, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as all the clues finally came together, like pieces of a puzzle that I had been too blind to see. Every rumor, every piece of gossip, every little detail that had been written about me, led back to one person.

I circled the name angrily, feeling my heart break as I stared at the words on the page, the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I didn’t care that the professor was calling my name, didn’t care about the shocked whispers that followed me as I bolted out of the classroom. All I could think about was finding him, confronting him. My feet carried me quickly down the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest as I headed toward the Great Hall. But when I got there, he wasn’t among the students milling about.

I clenched my fists, trying to think. Where would he be? Then it hit me—Quidditch practice. They had the last part of the day off.

Without another thought, I made my way to the Slytherin dorms. My mind was racing, anger and betrayal twisting in my chest as I reached his door. I didn’t hesitate as I knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

When the door opened, Mattheo’s surprised expression turned into a mischievous smirk as he leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me. “Y/N? What, you miss kissing me so much you had to skip class?” His tone was playful, teasing, and he stepped aside to let me in.

I ignored the flutter in my chest and walked past him into the room. The moment he saw my face, though, his smirk faded. He closed the door and turned to me, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, as he moved closer. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sat down on his bed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. His words echoed in my mind, the ones he’d said before about how the person behind the gossip letter must want to get a reaction out of me. I looked up at him, a cold smile curling my lips. "Well, was it good?"

Mattheo frowned, confusion crossing his features. “What are we talking about now, princess?”

“The reaction you got out of me,” I said, and just like that, the smile on my face vanished, replaced by the full weight of my anger and hurt. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

His face went blank, the confusion deepening in his eyes. “Wait, Y/N—”

“Checkmate, Riddle,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up, the anger and hurt finally spilling over.

"You were the only one who knew about Italy, about what happened there. You were the one who was with me at the Yule Ball. You were there when Adrian and I sneaked into the library." My voice grew louder with each accusation, tears burning in my eyes. "All of those details, every single one of them—it was you. You were the one writing the gossip letter, weren’t you?"

Tears blurred my vision as I continued, my voice shaking with emotion. “Was it fun for you? Watching me losing my mind, seeing how much it effected me? Was it a game, Mattheo? Did you enjoy it? You said the person doing this wanted a reaction—well, congratulations, you got it. You got everything you wanted. I trusted you… I thought you cared, but you were just playing me all along.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you? Feeding me lies, watching as I fell for every trap you set. And for what? A laugh? A good story?”

“Y/N, that’s not—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I said coldly, my voice breaking. “You’ve already won, I just wonder why you didn’t write your story yet it’s a good one especially the one you —"

“Save it,” I spat out, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “You’ve already won. I just wonder why you haven’t written your final story yet—it’s a good one. Especially the part where you—"

But before I could finish, he cut me off, his voice trembling with an emotion I hadn’t expected.

"What could I have done, Y/N? What could I have possibly done?" he began, his words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "I was there, yes, I was right there with you—through all of it. But do you know why? Do you know why I couldn’t stay away?"

I froze, his words piercing through my anger like a knife. He continued, his voice thick with desperation. "I’ve loved you all this time, from the first day I got off that stupid train, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t remember a single day where I haven’t been in love with you.

He paused, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t just some stupid crush, Y/N. It was an obsession, it was madness—but it was love. I loved you, and I still love you. I was desperate… Desperate to be near you, to be a part of your life, even if it meant doing something as twisted as this."

I stood frozen."You could have just said that. You should have just told me that."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Fucking right, Y/N."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You had a damn prince crying after you rejected him," Mattheo snapped, his frustration and jealousy spilling over. "A prince, Y/N! And here I am, the son of a psychopath, the last person anyone should ever trust, much less love. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, even though my father’s the Dark Lord and everyone expects me to be just like him’? Who the hell would ever want that?"

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he continued, his voice strained. "Every day, I watched you. I saw you with your friends, with guys who could give you everything—everything. And the worst part? The worst fucking part was knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how close I got, it would never be enough. Not for someone like you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from anger. "You don’t get it, Mattheo. None of that mattered to me. None of it. I didn’t care about titles or any of that. I just wanted someone who was real with me. Someone who saw me for who I am, not just as some piece in a game."

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his expression softening. "I did see you, Y/N. That’s why I did what I did. The letters… they were my way of being close to you, of being a part of your world. But I was so scared of losing you, of you finding out what I’d done, that I just kept digging myself deeper. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway."

His voice broke on the last word, and the sight of him standing there, so vulnerable, shattered the last of my defenses.

Just as I was about to respond, movement from the next bed caught my eye. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Enzo sitting up, looking between Mattheo and me with wide, startled eyes, propped up on his elbows.

He Clearly had heard more than enough. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got this thing—relationship phobia. Can’t be around emotional confessions, they give me hives." [p.s that’s the same Enzo from Down bad pray for him]

He awkwardly shuffled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, guys. Gonna get out of here real quick. Pretend I was never here, yeah?" With that, he practically bolted out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief until the door clicked shut behind him.

This family is insane.

We both stood there in silence for a moment, the sudden interruption leaving us both a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Mattheo didn’t either.

“Y/N,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Please… say something. Anything.”

“You hurt me, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You lied to me, manipulated me."

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. But Y/N, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to keep you close.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I wiped them away furiously, hating how vulnerable I felt in this moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you have to go through all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so quiet, so broken, that it made my chest ache. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to be close to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I loved you without feeling like I was going to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But you didn’t have to do it like this, Mattheo. You didn’t have to lie to me, to manipulate me, just to be close. I would’ve—” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I would’ve loved you anyway."

Mattheo's face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion as he whispered, "You would?" His voice was barely audible, almost as if he didn’t believe the words that had just left his lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the walls I had built around myself beginning to crumble. Without a word, I got up from the bed and walked toward him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Yeah," I finally said, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him. "Because it would’ve been easy, Mattheo."

His eyes searched mine, desperate and lost, as if he was trying to find the truth in my words.

"I’ve loved you," I began, my voice cracking, "from the moment I stepped off that stupid train, too love must have been in the air that day or something. But I couldn’t let myself admit it. Instead, I pushed you away, pretended I couldn’t stand you because I was terrified—terrified of how much I wanted you, how much I needed you." Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them this time. They streamed down my face as I choked out the words I had been too afraid to say for so long. "I didn’t know how to deal with how much you consumed me, so I fought it. But it was always you, Mattheo. It was always you."

He moved closer, his hands gently cupping my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His touch was soft, so different from the way he usually carried himself—like he was afraid I might break if he wasn’t careful.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I did. I do,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned into his touch. “I just didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

Mattheo’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin as he held me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability I’d never heard from him before. “I didn’t know how to show you what I felt without messing everything up. I was so afraid of losing you that I did the exact thing that could drive you away.”

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “I know,” I whispered, my hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I know now that the letters were more about admiring me than harming me. They only felt too much when another boy was involved, and… and I get it. I get that it was your twisted way of dealing with jealousy.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense but soft, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath. “I just didn’t know how to show it without screwing it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I told him, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. “You just have to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Mattheo’s grip on me tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, for forgiveness, and I gave it to him willingly, kissing him back with all the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

As the kiss deepened, I felt the last of my walls crumble, leaving me completely vulnerable in his arms. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that despite everything, this was where I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other from here.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, my voice thick with tears and longing.

“I love you to—”

The door suddenly burst open, and Blaise walked in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He froze for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of us, and then a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t this cozy? I was just coming to grab a book, but it looks like I walked into the middle of a romance novel. Should I start narrating? ‘And in that moment, their love ignited like a house elf’s poorly managed kitchen fire…’”

I felt my face flush, and I quickly stepped back from Mattheo, wiping at my eyes. “Blaise, could you just…not?” Mattheo said .

Blaise chuckled, completely unfazed by Mattheo’s irritation. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, pretending I didn’t walk in on whatever _this_ is.” He waved his hand vaguely in our direction before sauntering over to the bookshelf.

I shot Mattheo a look, trying to stifle a laugh as Blaise exaggeratedly searched for his book, humming to himself like nothing unusual had happened.

Mattheo sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “I’m killing you after this.”

“Nuh,” Blaise called out, pulling a book from the shelf and turning back to us with a grin. “You love me.”

“Debatable,” Mattheo shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Blaise winked at me before heading toward the door. “Carry on with your dramatic declarations of love. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Mattheo looked down at me.

“Where were we?” he asked softly, pulling me back into his arms.

“I think you were about to tell me how much you love me,” I teased, my heart swelling with warmth.

“Right,” he whispered, his voice turning serious again as he leaned in to kiss me. “ Fuck yeah I love you. So much.”

[sadnymi]

Mastermind

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Lady Whistledown and Gossip Girl [ Hogwarts Version] had taken the school by storm. Every week, spoken letters delivered the latest rumors, and things were getting out of control. Y/N had finally had enough, especially when the latest gossip claimed she was dating Mattheo Riddle. Frustrated and determined to put an end to it, she went to Mattheo, asking for his help in uncovering the person behind the relentless rumors and stopping them once and for all.

Words: 15k

Warnings : fluff, smut smut smut don’t read in public you have been warning , biker boy mattheo [yes a warning] , a little angst, fluff .

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**The Daily Whisperer: Hogwarts Edition**

_Issue #47: The Gossip of the Week_

Hogwarts is buzzing with the latest speculation surrounding two of our most enigmatic students. You guessed it—Y/N Y/L/N and Mattheo Riddle.

Rumor has it that sparks are flying between these two, and if they aren't already an item, then Merlin’s beard, they definitely should be! A sighting in the library, some lingering glances in Potions class, and let’s not forget that mysterious detention they both just _happened_ to land in last week. Could this be the beginning of a legendary Hogwarts love story? But that's not all! This week’s flying letters brought us another sizzling scoop: Y/N was seen practicing dueling spells with Mattheo, and let's just say, the sparks were flying—literally. Could this be a sign of something more than just friendly competition? Stay tuned, dear readers. We’re on the case!

In other news, Y/N has been making waves not just in the rumor mill but in the academic arena as well. This ( whatever house you’re in, darling Y/N!) has been impressing professors and students alike with her spellwork and potions prowess. Is there anything she can't do? We'll keep you posted on her latest achievements and, of course, any further developments in her relationship status with a certain handsome Slytherin.

Until next time, keep your wands at the ready and your ears to the ground!

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I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes on me as I stormed through the hallways, clutching the latest edition of "Hogwarts Whispers" in my hand. My anger was palpable, a tangible force pushing people aside as they gawked at me. As I turned a corner, a group of Hufflepuffs quickly scattered, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of my wrath. My anger flared hotter. Who had the nerve to spread such nonsense? And why did it have to be always about _me_?

Finally, I spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, casually leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he exchanged easy banter with his friends. Typical.

I marched up to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. His friends wisely took a step back as I approached, but he merely glanced over at me with that infuriating smirk of his, clearly amused by my arrival.

“Riddle,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Y/L/N,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or just genuinely interested.

“We need to talk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “We need to talk?”

I huffed in frustration. “You didn’t read what that freak wrote today?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning my face for any clue. “But does that have anything to do with why people are looking at us like we are about to say our vows?”

Resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. “Come on.”

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the entire school. The last thing I needed was to give those gossipy little owls more fuel for their fire.

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked, his hand warm in mine, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any truth to what they’d written.

But I shoved that thought aside as we reached a secluded corner. I had a bone to pick with him, and I wasn’t about to let a few stray butterflies distract me.

“What are we going to do about this?” I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone else.

He just grinned, clearly unfazed. “What do you mean, Y/N? Sounds like we’re the hottest topic in school.”

My glare deepened. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo.”

“Maybe not.”

“This is absolute bullshit!” I fumed, waving the gossip letter around like it was cursed. “Why would anyone write this? Why is it always about me? Every. Single. Week!”

Mattheo leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smile on his face. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, which only fueled my irritation further.

“And then they say I’m dating you?” I threw the letter on a desk, feeling my pulse racing. “Are they insane? Where do they even get this stuff?”

He chuckled, that deep, velvety sound that always seemed to get under my skin. “I’m trying so hard not to take that personally, princess.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Riddle.”

But he didn’t stop smiling, just kept leaning against the wall, looking at me like he was thoroughly enjoying the show. My frustration bubbled over. “Why are you so calm about this? This is serious! People are staring at us in the hallways! It’s like they’ve all got nothing better to do than imagine some ridiculous romance between us.”

“Well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward me, “can you blame them? You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t funny. We need to find out who’s behind this, and you’re going to help me.”

Mattheo pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to me. "You want me to help you track down the identity of…" he paused, a playful glint in his eyes, "Madam Matchmaker?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Would you do that?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I would never say no to my girlfriend."

"Shut up, Riddle." I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat despite the anger still boiling inside me. "I’m not your girlfriend," I insisted, my voice lacking the conviction I’d hoped for.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. "That’s not what the whole school is saying."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Shut up, Riddle."

"Don't you see how ridiculous this is?" I asked, exasperated.

He tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Oh, I see it, alright. But I've got to admit, I don't mind being linked to you, Y/N. It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you."

"Shut up, Riddle."

He laughed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know, if you keep telling me to shut up, I might just have to find another way to occupy my mouth."

"You… you’re —-!"

"And yet, here you are, asking me for help. You must like something about me, Y/N."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I like the idea of you doing something useful for once. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened up, still smiling but with a more serious glint in his eyes. "Of course I’ll help you. But you owe me one."

"Fine," I grumbled, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

The next day, I stormed into the Great Hall, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment in my hand. I barely noticed the whispers that trailed behind me as I made a beeline for the Slytherin table, my eyes locking onto Mattheo, who was lounging back in his seat, looking completely unbothered by the chaos swirling around us.

I slammed the parchment down in front of him, making a few Slytherins glance over in curiosity.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a list,” I said, taking a seat across from him and ignoring the way his friends were watching us with interest. “A list of suspects. I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities, and we need to figure out who’s responsible.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

I pointed to the first name on the list. “First, there’s Carla knight. She’s always had it out for me ever since that incident in Potions last year. You know, she’s been looking for a way to get back at me ever since, she’s petty enough to spread rumors, and she’s got the connections to get them published.”

“True,” Mattheo mused, leaning back in his chair. “But Carla’s too obvious, don’t you think? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, moving on to the next name. “Then there’s John Gary. He’s always been the quiet type, but that just makes him more dangerous. He’s close to the source, and he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”

Mattheo nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting."

"What about Lavender Brown? She’s always gossiping, and she’s got this diary she carries around everywhere. What if she’s the one writing this stuff down and sending it off to ‘Hogwarts Whispers’?"

"Lavender’s a possibility," Mattheo admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "But she’s more into writing about her own love life than anyone else’s. I doubt she’d be focused enough to keep tabs on us."

I grumbled under my breath and tapped my quill against the parchment, staring at the remaining names. "Then who could it be? I’ve gone through almost everyone who’s likely to be involved in this kind of thing, and none of them make sense!"

Mattheo didn’t respond immediately, and I looked up to find him just staring at me, a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing? Were you even listening?" I demanded, feeling my frustration rise again.

His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before he finally spoke. "Oh, I was listening, princess. It’s just hard to focus when you’re looking so damn determined. It’s… distracting."

My heart did a little flip, but I shoved that feeling down and crossed my arms. "This is serious, Riddle. Someone is spreading lies about us, and you’re just sitting here, smirking like it’s all a joke."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still locked on mine. "I’m not laughing at you. I’m just appreciating how hard you’re trying to solve this little mystery. It’s kind of… sexy."

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let him derail me. "Stop with the compliments, Mattheo. This is important."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Riddle. I’m serious."

"So am I," he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat, his gaze still locked on mine. "But if you want to focus on this little mystery instead of the much more interesting topic of us, then go ahead."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least don’t make this harder than it already is."

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to spend time with me than concocting elaborate schemes to solve a mystery that might not even have a culprit."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe someone’s just trying to push us together, and it’s working. Ever thought about that?"

"Shut up, Riddle," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. "Only if you make me."

I reached out to smack his arm. "Stop acting like that. This is serious!"

In a flash, Mattheo’s hand shot out, catching my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His smile was both mischievous and reassuring as he looked at me. "Alright, but only because you’re so charming when you’re worked up."

I pulled my wrist free, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Just—stop distracting me. I need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets any worse."

Mattheo leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving mixture of amusement and interest. "Indeed, lead the way. I’m all ears."

For the rest of the week, I was on a mission. Every day, I dragged Mattheo around the school, from the library to the common rooms, and even to the less frequented corners of the castle. Despite his usual nonchalance, Mattheo followed along without question, his only response being that knowing smile he always seemed to have when he was around me.

We spent hours poring over potential suspects, analyzing their motives, and investigating their whereabouts. Each time I got frustrated or hit a dead end, Mattheo would patiently listen, never interrupting, and only offering occasional comments that were either strangely insightful or just plain distracting.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I finally vented my frustrations. "This is ridiculous. I’ve talked to nearly everyone I can think of, and no one seems to know anything. It’s like we’re running in circles."

Mattheo’s hand brushed against mine as he walked beside me, and I could feel the warmth of his touch even through our robes. "Maybe you’re looking too hard. Sometimes, the answer isn’t in what people say but in what they don’t."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the week’s frustration pressing down on me. "I just don’t get it. Why would someone target me like this?"

He glanced at me, his expression softening. "Maybe they’re trying to get a reaction out of you."

His words, though comforting, did little to ease my worries. I shook my head and kept walking, the silence between us stretching as we turned another corner. "I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm about all this. I’m losing my mind trying to figure this out."

"You’re doing great."

"Thanks, Mattheo."

He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Besides, it’s been… interesting, spending all this time with you. I’d say it’s been the highlight of my week."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Oh, is that so? I’m glad to be your highlight, Riddle."

He grinned, his usual mischievous glint in his eye. "You should be. And if you ever need me to be a distraction! again, just let me know."

" I hope not."

As we turned another corner in the castle, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from his usual playful smirk to something more serious. "Go on a date with me."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly confident look on his face. "Let’s go on a date."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "Why would I—what are you even talking about? We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s spreading these rumors, not giving them more fuel for the fire!"

"Exactly," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we go on a date, we can see who’s watching us, who’s interested in what we’re doing. It’ll flush out the culprit. And with the weekend coming up, whoever’s behind this will be desperate for more gossip to spread. We’ll be able to figure it out, Y/N."

I shook my head, utterly incredulous. "Absolutely not. I’m not going on a date with you."

"Why not?" he asked, his smirk returning as he stepped closer, his presence as magnetic as ever. "It’s the perfect plan. We’ll be able to spot who’s paying too much attention to us."

"Because," I stammered, feeling my heart race as he closed the distance between us, "it’s ridiculous! You’re just trying to mess with me. I know you, Mattheo. You don’t actually care about solving this, you just want to—"

"Want to what?" he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. "Think about it, Y/N. We go out, see who’s watching, think of it as an experiment. A way to gather evidences. You like evidence, don’t you?"

"I’m not going on a date with you. I refuse to give these gossips exactly what they want. I’m not some pawn in their game, and I’m certainly not going to parade around with you just to see who’s got their eyes on us."

He just kept smiling, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriatingly calm, knowing look. "You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it’s the best way to figure this out."

"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "There’s no way I’m doing it. This is absurd, and I’m not falling for it. You’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" he echoed, taking another step closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "Shut up, Riddle."

He didn’t move, his smirk widening as his gaze held mine. "You tell me to shut up again, and I will kiss the fuck out of you, princess."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "That’s the deal. You say it again, and I won’t hold back."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could barely form a coherent thought as his words sank in. "You—you’re insane."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low and full of intent. "But I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to figure this out—with you."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. "Or is it just that you’re afraid you might actually enjoy it?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I was too flustered to think straight. His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming.

"This is stupid," I muttered, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance.

"That’s not a ‘no’."

I glared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "But this is strictly for the sake of finding out who’s behind the rumors."

Mattheo’s grin widened. "Of course, princess. Strictly business."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a lid on the flurry of emotions swirling inside me. "You have to behave, Riddle. No funny business, no flirting. Just… business."

"I’ll be on my best behavior."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just playing me. "Somehow, I doubt that."

He chuckled, leaning in slightly saying in a mocking tone. "Your doubt wounds me, Y/N. My favorite thing to do is be a good boy for you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, whatever you say."

"So," he continued, ignoring my skepticism, "tomorrow, then?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Mattheo’s gaze softened, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Don’t be nervous. And try not to think about me too much tonight."

I scoffed, giving him a withering look. "In your dreams, Riddle."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. "Oh, believe me, darling. You’re in my dreams every night. But we’re not just talking in them."

My face burned as I smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I’m going to just kill someday and stop the rumors you’re insufferable, you know that?"

He just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

"I don’t have a choice," I shot back, starting to walk toward my dormitory with him following close behind.

"Ah, but you do," he said smoothly, keeping pace with me. "And you’re choosing to be here with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

I ignored him, focusing on the corridor ahead, even as I felt his gaze lingering on me.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing. "You know, tomorrow’s going to be fun. You’ll see."

I rolled my eyes, still facing forward. "If by ‘fun’ you mean torturous, then sure."

Mattheo’s laughter echoed through the corridor, warm and rich. "Torturous for you, maybe. But for me? It’ll be heaven."

I stopped in front of my dormitory, turning to face him. "This is where we part ways."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "For now. But you know, you can always invite me in if you’re feeling lonely."

Pushing him away lightly I said. "Not a chance, Riddle."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Worth a shot."

I gave him a look, and for once, he seemed to back down. "Alright, alright. Sleep well, Y/N. And try not to think too much about tomorrow. Or about me."

I slammed the door shut in his face, cutting off his words, but I could still hear his low chuckle from the other side. Then I leaned against the door, trying to steady my racing heart.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been on plenty of dates before, so why does this one feel different? I’ve had Quidditch players asking me out, and even the prince of Eldoria once tried his luck, but none of that made me feel as nervous as I am right now. And this isn’t even a real date. It’s just a… mission, right?

I stared at the mess of clothes strewn across my room, feeling utterly lost. Is this too much? Will I be overdressed if I wear it? Or is this too casual? And I can’t stop thinking about him—nope, we won’t do that. We won’t think about him or what he’s going to wear. Or not wear. No, absolutely not. We are not thinking about him without clothes. That can’t happen. I can’t stand Mattheo, right?

But why? Why can’t I stand him? I can’t remember anymore. Maybe it’s because he makes me feel so damn nervous? And I hate that. I hate losing control. I love having control over everything, and Merlin knows he wasn’t helping with that. It’s like every cell in my body is screaming, and I mean every single one.

I finally settled on a small black dress, letting my hair fall naturally around my shoulders. I added a touch of makeup and a simple necklace, convincing myself that I was doing this for me. It’s a good chance to get dressed up and look good—to myself, right? I always do. I’m a fashion icon, and I always dress well. Not for any certain someone with beautiful eyes and hair and a body that—nope, stop it, Y/N. We’re not going there.

I took a deep breath and walked out of my dorm, only to find Mattheo standing just outside my door, hand raised as if he was about to knock. He was dressed all in black, and oh, Merlin, that shirt was doing things to me.

His eyes slowly raking up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking, and when his gaze finally reached my face, it lingered on my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Matching," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "You always wear black or gray, It’s hardly a coincidence Mattheo."

His smirk widened as he took a step closer. "Oh, baby, so you were trying to match with me?"

"What? Of course not!" I shot back, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would’ve liked. He laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "If you don’t stop, I’m going back inside and forgetting about this so-called date,"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely breathtaking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to focus on anything but you tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, though I could feel my cheeks heating up. "You’re so insufferable."

"And you’re so beautiful," he replied smoothly, taking my hand in his. "Now come on. Let’s get out of here."

I allowed him to lead me out of the castle, my heart pounding harder with every step. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I promise it’s something you’ll like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you’re up to something, Riddle, I swear—"

"Oh, I’m definitely up to something," he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he glanced over at me, his eyes darkening slightly. "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Maybe even more than you expect."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice steady. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who said I was trying to fool you?" he shot back, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I tried to ignore the way his words made my pulse quicken. "You’re being annoyingly cryptic, you know that?"

"It’s part of my charm," he replied , his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "And besides, it’s worth the suspense, don’t you think?"

I looked at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I think you’re enjoying this far too much."

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with a mischievous glint. "Oh, I am. But don’t pretend you aren’t, too."

As Mattheo led me down the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb was now tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine, and I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.

My breath hitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "You’re really pushing it, Riddle."

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I pushed him away pretending to be annoyed it’s actually better to show him that I was so turned on. "Let’s just get this over with."

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to inject some firmness into my voice, though it came out softer than I intended.

Mattheo glanced at me, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Patience, darling."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words got caught in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a wave, but it did little to quell the heat burning inside me.

“You look like you’re trying really hard not to think about what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What… what are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, pulling me closer until our bodies were nearly touching. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. About what it would feel like.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flooded my body at his words. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t letting him get to me like this. But when he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my hip, I could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, though it was clear even to me that I was lying.

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been thinking about it. And the best part? So have I.”

I blinked up at him, trying to form a coherent response when he suddenly smirked and pointed behind me. “Relax, darling. I was talking about the ride I’m going to give you tonight.”

I followed his gaze and saw a sleek black motorcycle parked nearby. “Wait… what?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

His smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What were _you_ thinking about?”

“Nothing!” I shot back, far too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. He started walking toward the bike, and I followed, my steps hesitant.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle as if it had personally offended me.

He looked at me with exaggerated innocence. “This? It’s a bike. You know, that thing with two wheels that goes vroom?”

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what it is. I’m asking why you’re near it.”

He leaned against the bike, looking far too smug for his own good."Because we’re taking it for a ride, obviously."

“Mattheo, you didn’t… Where did you even get this from?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He grinned mischievously. “Stole it.”

My eyes widened, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “Kidding, darling. Just get on.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether I should turn around and walk back inside. But something about the way he was looking at me—challenging, teasing—made me pause. I cursed under my breath and reluctantly walked over to the bike.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but curse myself for wearing a dress. Of all nights, why did I choose tonight to be impractical? I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the bike, careful not to flash him.

“Need some help there?”

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, finally managing to get on the bike without embarrassing myself too much.

He turned to face me, and suddenly, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His hands reached up, and he gently placed a helmet on my head, securing the strap under my chin. The simple act was far more intimate than it had any right to be, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might want to hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my hands. “If you crash this thing, I’m killing you,” I muttered against his back.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.”

he started the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath us. I tightened my grip on him as we took off, the wind whipping through my hair. The cool night air rushed past us, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Mattheo’s body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he maneuvered the bike through the darkened streets.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” he called over the sound of the wind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Riddle.”

He laughed again, but there was a dark edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I am. But I can’t help but think about how good you feel pressed up against me.”

My cheeks burned, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. “Shut up, Mattheo.”

" careful baby remember our deal?"

“Mattheo—”

“ Yes,princess?"

" don’t open your mouth please."

He laughed " Why? You don’t like it when I talk about how your hands feel on me? Or how I can feel every little movement you make?”

“No—”

“Or maybe it’s the way you’re clinging to me right now,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more seductive. “Like you can’t get close enough. Like you don’t want this ride to end.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way his words were making my heart race even faster. He was doing this on purpose, and damn him, it was working.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He slowed the bike down slightly, and I felt him lean back just enough to speak directly into my ear. “Too late for that, darling. You’re driving me crazy.”

My breath caught, and I tightened my grip on him, unsure if it was to steady myself or if it was because part of me wanted him to pull over.

“Mattheo…” I warned, but my voice was weak, trembling.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “Relax."

Every time he took a sharp turn or sped up, my grip on him tightened, and he would laugh softly, his voice full of that infuriating confidence. “You sure you’re not nervous?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, though my heart was racing for more reasons than just the speed of the bike.

“Good,” he murmured, his tone almost a purr.

As Mattheo slowed the bike to a stop, I looked around and felt a jolt of unease settle in my stomach. The area was dimly lit, with groups of people loitering around, looking like trouble. The girls wore little more than scraps of fabric, their heavy makeup making their eyes look like dark smudges in the faint light. The guys weren’t any better—tough, dangerous, and clearly up to no good.

I turned to Mattheo, my voice tinged with irritation and confusion. “What the hell, Mattheo?”

He smirked, swinging his leg off the bike. “What? I thought you’d appreciate something different from the fancy dates you’re used to. Oh, remind me again, where did Prince Edward take you to?”

“He didn’t,” I snapped back, dismounting the bike as gracefully as possible while trying to keep my dress in place. “Because I turned the date down.”

Mattheo’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. “How bad for him.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing around nervously. “There’s no one from school here, right? I mean, how is the gossip mill going to work if they don’t notice us?”

He leaned against the bike, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, they won’t.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous.

He laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll be more likely to notice if we were at some fancy place, don’t you think?”

I frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Probably, yeah. Any normal person would feel so out of place here.”

I was about to step off the bike when I felt his hands suddenly on my hips, his grip firm. “No, not like that, princess.”

“What?” I managed to say, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as he effortlessly swung off the bike first. Then, without warning, he placed his hands on my waist again and lifted me off the bike as if I weighed nothing.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to get a look at the show I had a minutes ago,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

My face flushed crimson, and I struggled to maintain my composure as his hands stayed on my waist, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, almost claiming, and I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me despite the chaotic surroundings.

“So, do I need to keep my wand close?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious as we neared the group.

Mattheo chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

As we walked through the crowd, people began to notice Mattheo, their eyes lighting up with recognition. A couple of guys came over, greeting him with casual nods and low murmurs.

“Riddle! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” one of them said, a tall guy with a crooked grin.

Another guy came up, clapping Mattheo on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Thought you’d ditched us for good.”

“Nah,” Mattheo replied casually. “Just been busy.”

“Yeah, thought you were too good for us these days,” another chimed in, smirking.

Mattheo just shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. “Can’t forget where I came from.”

Before I could process what that meant, a girl suddenly appeared, practically throwing herself at Mattheo. She had wild, dark hair and wore a top that could barely be called clothing. “Matty! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she purred, her hands already trailing over his chest. Then, she noticed me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up.

I met her gaze, lifting my chin defiantly as I looked her over. She was all beautiful and confidence, but something about her screamed desperate. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that flared in my chest. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Who’s this?” she asked Mattheo, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mattheo’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She’s My girl,” he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

The girl’s eyes narrowed further as she gave me another once-over. I met her gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Got a problem with that?” I asked, my tone sweet but laced with a clear challenge.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes were still cold. She turned back to Mattheo, trying to regain his attention. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, now you know,” I said firmly, stepping closer to Mattheo as if staking my claim.

She shot me one last glare before reluctantly backing off, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this one. I watched her go, feeling oddly victorious, even as my heart pounded in my chest.

Mattheo’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, though my face was still flushed.

“Right,” he drawled, clearly not believing me.

Mattheo guided me through the throngs of people, his hand never leaving my waist as we made our way toward a secluded area. The crowd seemed to part for him, everyone stepping aside as if they knew better than to get in his way. He led me to a corner of the warehouse where a small, dimly lit bar was nestled. The area was quieter, more exclusive, with plush leather couches and a polished wooden bar that gave it an air of importance.

“This is where the VIPs hang out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped into the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—a private sanctuary within the madness.

Mattheo smirked, pulling out a barstool for me before taking a seat himself. “You could say that. Only those who matter get to hang out here.”

I settled onto the stool, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And I’m guessing you’re one of those people?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think, Princess?”

“I think you like making a scene wherever you go,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light despite the way my heart was racing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The bartender, a grizzled-looking man with a permanent scowl, approached us, his gaze flickering over me before settling on Mattheo.

“Riddle,” the bartender said in greeting, his voice gruff. “Been a while.”

“Hey, Greg,” Mattheo replied, his voice casual. “How’s business?”

Greg grunted, grabbing a glass and starting to mix a drink. “Same old, same old. You finally got yourself a date, eh?”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. “Something like that.”

Greg's eyes flickered over to me again, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He took in my dress and my slightly flustered demeanor, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “She's a fancy one, ain't she?” he commented, continuing to mix the drinks.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Mattheo agreed, his hand caressing my thigh. “But she’s all mine.”

I suppressed a shiver at the touch, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I shot Mattheo a glare. He just smirked in response.

"Noted." Greg set our drinks down in front of us, a shot of dark liquor for Mattheo and something orange and frothy for me. “On the house,” he said gruffly, before moving to serve other customers.

"Can you tell me why those people know you? And how the hell are you so well-known like a famous celebrity here?"

Mattheo takes a sip of his drink, a smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates my question. “I wouldn’t say famous, darling. But I’ve spent a lot of time here... Let’s just say I know my way around.”

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not a real answer.”

He grins, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it's a perfectly real answer. You just don't like it.”

"And what about this girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That’s Layla. She’s part of this crowd… a regular here, I guess you could say.”

“And you… know her well?”

He shrugs, his hand going back to rest on my thigh. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, yeah.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause, a flicker of jealousy stirring in my chest.

He takes another sip of his drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

I scowl at his non-answer. “You’re the one who keeps avoiding them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing lazy circles on my thigh. “I just like seeing you get all worked up, princess.”

“So what’s your definition of crossing paths?” I ask, pressing him further.

He pauses, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Layla and I have... hooked up a few times. Nothing serious, just casual stuff.”

My heart sinks, a mix of jealousy and disappointment flickering inside me. I try to mask it, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered me.

“And what about now? Is she still in the picture?”

His hand tightens slightly on my thigh, and I feel him tense for a moment. Then he turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing mine as he answers, “No, she’s not.”

“Good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “because this whole act would be a lot less convincing if you were involved with more than one girl.”

Mattheo chuckles, the sound low and rich, as his fingers tighten their grip on my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “And here I thought you were just in this for the show,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more seductive.

“I am,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart. “But even in an act, there are rules.”

“Rules, huh?” He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, his breath warm against my skin. “And what are those rules, princess?”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. I need to stay in control, to remind myself that this is just an act. “Like keeping your hands to yourself,” I whisper, but the words come out more breathless than I intended.

He chuckles again, a dark, knowing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand slides further up my thigh, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We’re supposed to be pretending,” I manage to say, my voice betraying the strain of keeping up the facade.

“Are we?” His lips graze the corner of my mouth, his words a challenge, daring me to keep up the pretense.

I turn my head slightly, our noses nearly touching, my breath mingling with his. “Yes,” I whisper, but it’s clear neither of us believes it anymore.

“So, just an act?” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod, barely managing to keep my composure. “Just an act,” I reply, though the words feel like a lie.

He tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But we might as well convince them, right?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that says he’s not playing anymore.

I should pull away, tell him no, remind him that this is all part of the charade. But I can’t. My resolve crumbles as I look into his eyes, the intensity there pulling me in, refusing to let go.

“Right,” I whisper, my voice betraying me.

Before I can take another breath, his mouth was on mine, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. Then, his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and I gasped, giving him the opening he needed.

His tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing, coaxing mine into a heated dance that left me dizzy. The kiss was all-consuming, each stroke of his tongue demanding a response that I couldn’t help but give. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, a promise of everything he could make me feel.

Mattheo’s hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until I was practically melting into him. He sucked on my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more of him, of this.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, the praise like gasoline to the fire already burning inside me. The words sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, tracing the curve of my spine—as he guided me to straddle his lap. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hardness pressing against me, a reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. His words were a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Mattheo,” I breathed, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more, to give more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin as his hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him. The friction was maddening, each roll of my hips sending waves of pleasure through me that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a hunger that made my heart race.

“Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him, desperate for more. His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he guided my movements, his lips capturing mine again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, primal, a clash of tongues and teeth that left me trembling in his arms.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire as his hands slid under my dress, tracing the edges of my panties. “Such a good girl for me.” The praise was almost too much, his mouth was on mine, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body as I arched into him, needing him to do something, anything to relieve the ache between my thighs.

Reality crashed down on me like a cold wave, dousing the fire that had been raging between us. I was kissing Mattheo Riddle—not just kissing him, but grinding against him in a dark, dingy bar, losing control in a way that was so unlike me.

Breathless, I shook my head, my hands still resting on his chest, but I pushed him away just enough to create space between us. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort to regain control.

“Why not?” he murmured.

His hands remained on my hips, firm but not forceful, as if he knew I could—and might—pull away at any moment.

“It’s wrong,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Wrong didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

“It feels so right to me,” he countered, his voice low.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my resolve wavering as I felt the heat of his body so close to mine, the pull of his gaze making it almost impossible to think clearly. I was losing myself, losing the control I prided myself on, every time I was near him.

“Mattheo, I want to go,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though the longing in me betrayed how much I wanted to stay, to give in.

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he stood up, his hand falling away from my thigh. He kept close to me as we made our way out of the bar, his presence a constant, protective shield, yet he didn’t touch me. And damn, I hated that—hated how much I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands on me again, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

We reached his bike, and he stood between me and the prying eyes of anyone passing by, shielding me as I climbed on. He still didn’t touch me, and it was driving me insane, the absence of his touch making me crave it even more. I hated myself for it, for wanting him so badly that it was all I could think about.

He climbed on the bike in front of me, starting the engine with a low rumble. My hands automatically went to his waist, and as soon as I made contact, it was like an electric current shot through me. My mind was a mess, a chaotic whirl of thoughts and emotions, and my body—oh, my body—was screaming for more, for him.

I clenched my hands tighter around him, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the tension inside me was unbearable. The battle raging within me, between what I wanted and what I knew was right, was tearing me apart.

“Stop, Mattheo,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the night.

He didn’t respond at first, but I felt his body tense under my hands. “What?” he asked, his voice tight, uncertain.

“I said stop,” I repeated, louder this time, and he immediately pulled the bike over to the side of the road, the engine cutting off with a final, ominous growl.

We were on a dark, deserted forest road, the trees casting long, eerie shadows under the moonlight. I got off the bike quickly, putting distance between us, trying to get a grip on the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I walked a few steps away, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me.

I turned around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him, standing there, taking off his helmet. His eyes were on me, intense, questioning, filled with something that made my heart race all over again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running back to him, my resolve crumbling to dust. I crashed into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his with a desperation I couldn’t control.

His response was immediate, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, raw passion that left me breathless. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, devouring, claiming me in a way that made my knees weak.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the bike with my back against the handlebars, my legs on either side of him as he stepped between them, his body pressing into mine. The cold metal of the bike contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, the hard, unyielding surface beneath me a stark reminder of how exposed, how vulnerable I was.

But I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me, needing him to take away the ache that was consuming me from the inside out.

His hands roamed over me, possessive, claiming, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into his mouth. He was everywhere—his touch, his taste, his scent—overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left but him.

“Mattheo,” I breathed against his lips, my hands sliding up to cup his face, holding him to me as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, dark and wild. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, both a challenge and a plea.

And he did. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips descending on mine once more, claiming me, possessing me. The kiss was hard, demanding, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sending shockwaves through me that left me breathless, trembling in his arms.

his hand tracing a teasing line down my side. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “If I were to slip my hand between those pretty thighs right now, would I find you soaking wet, princess?”

A shiver ran through me, his words setting my skin on fire.

“You’d have to do it to find out,” I whispered back, my voice shaky.

His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed the fabric of my dress up, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core, making me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with praise that sent another rush of heat through me. His hand moved higher, inching closer to where I needed him most, but he took his time, teasing me, making me squirm against him.

When his fingers finally reached the edge of my panties, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he slid one finger along the slick fabric, barely touching me but enough to make my breath hitch.

I bit my lip, fighting back a moan as he continued to tease me, his finger tracing lazy circles over my clit through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening, the light touch just enough to drive me crazy but not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need inside me.

“Let’s see how wet you really are,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside my panties, his fingers brushing against my slick folds. The contact was enough to make me moan, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.

His finger slid along my slit, collecting my wetness before he pressed it against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had me arching into his touch, desperate for more. “You’re drenched,” he murmured, his voice laced with approval, his breath hot against my neck as he continued to work me over.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as he curled his finger, finding that perfect spot that made me see stars. He added another finger, the stretch delicious as he pumped them in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit with every movement.

“Look at you princess.” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he continued to finger me, his pace steady and relentless. “You like knowing we’re still in public, don’t you, Y/N? That’s so unlike you….”

His words made my head spin, the combination of his dirty talk and the way his fingers worked me over was too much, too overwhelming. “Nothing I do when I’m with you is like me,” I admitted, my voice breathless as I bucked against his hand, craving more of the pleasure only he could give me. “But nothing has ever felt this good.”

He groaned at my confession, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had me seeing stars. “Good girl,” he praised again, his voice filled with pride and lust as he kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that left me breathless.

I kissed him back with equal fervor, losing myself in the feel of him, the way his fingers worked me over, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in just the right way, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me that made my entire body tremble.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled against my lips, his fingers moving faster, harder, the wet sounds of his fingers working me over filling the dark, empty forest around us. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, princess? Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

His words were my undoing, the praise and the dirty talk too much for me to handle. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless, clinging to him for support as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Mattheo didn’t stop, his fingers working me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I was nothing but a trembling, panting mess in his arms. He finally slowed his movements, gently pulling his fingers out of me and bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked onto mine as he licked them clean.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction as he pulled me in for another searing kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, letting me taste myself on him.

I kissed him back, my heart racing, my body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just done to me. I knew we were still out in the open, knew that anyone could have seen us, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel, the way he could break down every wall I’d ever built around myself with just a touch, a word, a kiss.

breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “Would you let me tease you, princess? Let me take my time driving you wild until you’re begging for me?”

His voice was dark, dripping with lust and promise, the words alone sending a shiver down my spine. I could only nod, still panting, my body trembling from the aftershocks of my release. The anticipation of what he was about to do had my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked at my response, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider. I gasped as the cool air brushed against my heated core, my entire body thrumming with a desperate need for more.

Mattheo took his time, starting with a slow, deliberate kiss on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His lips were soft, his tongue darting out to taste my skin as he worked his way up, inch by agonizing inch. Each kiss, each lick, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my thighs tremble in anticipation.

He alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing licks, his tongue tracing patterns up my inner thigh. The closer he got to where I wanted him most, the more my hips began to shift, desperate for him to end the torment. But he didn’t rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

When he finally reached the apex of my thighs, he paused, his breath warm against my soaked folds. The anticipation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming for him to touch me, to give me the release I was so desperately craving.

“Look at Me,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement as he kissed the sensitive skin right beside where I ached for him most.

And then, without warning, his tongue was on me, the first long, slow lick sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as his tongue slid over my folds, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.

He took his time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firm, deliberate strokes of his tongue over my clit. Every touch was electric, every swirl of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was already so sensitive, still reeling from my first orgasm, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “I’m just getting started.”

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. The combination of his mouth and the steady rhythm of his tongue was driving me wild, the pleasure building so quickly that it was almost overwhelming.

He kept at it, his tongue working in tandem with his lips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs were trembling, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coiled tight in my belly, ready to snap.

And then he pushed me over the edge, his tongue curling around my clit in a way that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm tore through me, the pleasure so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover as he continued to work me through my release, his tongue lapping up every bit of my arousal. The overstimulation was mind-blowing, each flick of his tongue sending another shockwave through my already oversensitive body.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice raw from the intensity of it all. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he continued his assault on my clit, his fingers sliding back inside me to curl against that spot that made me see stars. “You’re going to cum again, princess. I want to feel you fall apart for me one more time.”

I could barely form a coherent thought, my mind completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving me. I could only nod, my body already climbing toward that peak again, the intensity of it making my head spin.

He finally pulled away, his hands gently holding my thighs as I came down from the high, my body still trembling with the aftershocks. I was completely spent, my mind foggy with pleasure, but Mattheo just grinned up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed my inner thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “I could do this all night.”

Tears of pleasure welled in my eyes as I reached for Mattheo, pulling him up to me. I could feel my makeup smeared, my face wet with tears that I knew had streaked down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, about the way his lips met mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.

He kissed me with a hunger that matched my own, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious, even as I reached down, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. I could feel how hard he was, could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only made me more desperate, more eager to feel all of him.

But then, to my surprise, he pulled back slightly, his hand catching mine. “No,” he murmured, his voice firm, but there was something in his tone that made me pause, that made me look up into his eyes, confused.

“What? Why?” I asked, my breath hitching, my heart pounding in my chest. The need in me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t understand why he would stop now, not when we were both so clearly on the edge.

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t mocking. It was low and full of a raw affection that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me again, slow and deep, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, his thumb brushing gently over my tear-streaked cheek.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to bend you over this bike and take you right now, right here,” he whispered, and the words alone were enough to make my legs go weak.

“Then do it,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with both need and frustration. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment; I just wanted him.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine, his thumb still tracing the line of my cheek.

“No,” he repeated, and before I could protest, before I could beg, he continued, his voice soft but filled with a determination that left me breathless. “When I get to have you, Y/N, I want it to be when I can take my time, when I can make you feel everything I’ve been dying to give you. I don’t want to rush this, to take you in some dark forest where anyone could see. You deserve more than that, more than just a quick fuck.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity, in the sheer weight of what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted more than just my body; he wanted all of me, and he wanted it to be right.

I was speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, and all I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he had just said. “Mattheo…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one gentle, full of a tenderness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"Not here, not like this. I want to take my time with you, princess. I want to feel every inch of you, taste every part of you, and make you mine in every possible way.”

I could only nod, tears slipping down my cheeks as I kissed him back, pouring all of my emotions into that kiss. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but I knew he was right. This—whatever it was between us—was more than just a physical need. It was something deeper, something that deserved to be treated with the care and attention he was promising.

We were supposed to be heading to class, but with Mattheo Riddle standing this close, logic and responsibility seemed to melt away. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, and I could barely think straight. His hand was firmly on my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough, and I had to admit, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the back of my mind, I knew we were in a hallway, but everything else was a blur. All I could focus on was the way Mattheo’s lips moved against mine, the way his other hand slid up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. My eyes flew open, and Mattheo reacted instantly, pulling me into a nearby alcove and pressing a hand gently over my mouth. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of almost being caught. I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept onto my lips as I peeked up at him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, and he had that signature smirk of his as we both listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. The Ravenclaw group passed by, completely oblivious to our presence. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how close we had come to being caught.

As soon as they were out of sight, I grinned and grabbed his collar, yanking him back to me. “Where were we?” I asked, my voice playful as I pressed my lips to his once more. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I was already forgetting why we needed to stop.

His hands slid down my back, pulling me even closer, his lips moving hungrily against mine. “Right here,” he murmured between kisses. “Not going anywhere, princess.”

I laughed softly, feeling the thrill of the moment surge through me. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” I teased, even as I kissed him deeper, not caring at all about the consequences.

“Worth it,” he breathed out, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You know, you could just skip class… stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I definitely don’t want to go to class right now.”

“Who says we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and tempting as he pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “You’re such a bad influence, Riddle.”

“And you’re such a willing participant, Y/L/N,” he shot back with a smirk, pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, it was even more heated, as if the idea of sneaking around had only fueled the fire between us.

But just as things were getting even more intense, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue.”

We both pulled away quickly, turning to see Theo standing there, looking entirely too amused for my liking.

Mattheo sighed, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “Theo, mate, you’re my best friend. Can’t you find something better to do than being a cockblock?”

Theo crossed his arms, smirking. “And you two were supposed to be finding the person behind the gossip column, not making out in an empty hallway.”

At Theo's words, realization hit me like a lightning bolt. The Daily Prophet letter! It was supposed to be today! I spun around to face him. “Theo, did the letter arrive yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, nothing. You might’ve scared them off for good.”

I frowned, trying to think straight despite the lingering heat in my body from Mattheo’s touch. “That’s strange… they’ve been so consistent."

Mattheo’s hand was still on my waist, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, and despite my worry, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at his touch. I turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should probably go so I won’t be late for class,” I said softly, though every part of me wanted to stay right here with him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I can think of a few more ways to spend the time.”

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Tempting, but I’ll save that for later.” With that, I pulled away from him, giving Theo a playful wave as I hurried off down the corridor.

As I walked away, I could hear Mattheo’s voice behind me, low and teasing. “You know, Theo, sometimes I think you take your job as a third wheel a little too seriously.”

Theo’s laughter echoed through the hallway as I turned the corner, already counting down the minutes until I could see Mattheo again.

I sat in class, staring blankly at the parchment in front of me, my quill lazily tracing random lines across the page. The absence of the Daily Gossip Letter today was unsettling, and I could feel the unease settling over the classroom like a heavy fog. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing—why hadn’t it come today? The letter had become a constant, its arrival as predictable as the sunrise, yet today, there was nothing.

As I absentmindedly doodled on my notebook, my mind began to wander, trying to piece together why the letter had stopped.

But why would it stop?

I tried to focus, to pay attention to the professor’s words, but my thoughts kept wandering. The gossip letter had become a staple at Hogwarts, a daily dose of scandal that everyone had come to expect. So why would it just… stop?

Unless… unless the person behind it didn’t need it anymore.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I started to think about all the things that had been written about me in that damned letter. The gossip wasn’t just random; it was targeted, specific. Almost like someone had a personal reason.

I started recalling all the gossip that had been written about me. My so-called date with Prince Edward, which wasn’t even a real date because I had turned him down. But when I returned to school, the letter had detailed everything about it—except the rejection part, of course. That happened privately, away from prying eyes. So how did the letter know about the date in the first place? Who else was in Italy at the same time as me?

My heart began to race as I straightened in my seat, my hand shaking slightly as I wrote down the names of the only two people who could have possibly known. The first name felt wrong, implausible, but the second… my stomach twisted as I scrawled it down.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My thoughts raced back to another piece of gossip—the one about me supposedly flirting with a Durmstrang student during the Yule Ball. The truth was, I had been trying to get information about a certain dark artifact that night, and the conversation had been strictly business. Yet the letter painted a completely different picture.

Again, I scribbled down the name. My hand tightened around the quill as I recalled another instance—Time when I helped Adrian Pucey sneak into the restricted section of the library. It was late at night, and we were careful not to get caught. But the letter described it in perfect detail, down to the exact time we were there. Who else knew?

The quill in my hand quivered as I wrote down the final name. My breathing became shallow, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as all the clues finally came together, like pieces of a puzzle that I had been too blind to see. Every rumor, every piece of gossip, every little detail that had been written about me, led back to one person.

I circled the name angrily, feeling my heart break as I stared at the words on the page, the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I didn’t care that the professor was calling my name, didn’t care about the shocked whispers that followed me as I bolted out of the classroom. All I could think about was finding him, confronting him. My feet carried me quickly down the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest as I headed toward the Great Hall. But when I got there, he wasn’t among the students milling about.

I clenched my fists, trying to think. Where would he be? Then it hit me—Quidditch practice. They had the last part of the day off.

Without another thought, I made my way to the Slytherin dorms. My mind was racing, anger and betrayal twisting in my chest as I reached his door. I didn’t hesitate as I knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

When the door opened, Mattheo’s surprised expression turned into a mischievous smirk as he leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me. “Y/N? What, you miss kissing me so much you had to skip class?” His tone was playful, teasing, and he stepped aside to let me in.

I ignored the flutter in my chest and walked past him into the room. The moment he saw my face, though, his smirk faded. He closed the door and turned to me, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, as he moved closer. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sat down on his bed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. His words echoed in my mind, the ones he’d said before about how the person behind the gossip letter must want to get a reaction out of me. I looked up at him, a cold smile curling my lips. "Well, was it good?"

Mattheo frowned, confusion crossing his features. “What are we talking about now, princess?”

“The reaction you got out of me,” I said, and just like that, the smile on my face vanished, replaced by the full weight of my anger and hurt. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

His face went blank, the confusion deepening in his eyes. “Wait, Y/N—”

“Checkmate, Riddle,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up, the anger and hurt finally spilling over.

"You were the only one who knew about Italy, about what happened there. You were the one who was with me at the Yule Ball. You were there when Adrian and I sneaked into the library." My voice grew louder with each accusation, tears burning in my eyes. "All of those details, every single one of them—it was you. You were the one writing the gossip letter, weren’t you?"

Tears blurred my vision as I continued, my voice shaking with emotion. “Was it fun for you? Watching me losing my mind, seeing how much it effected me? Was it a game, Mattheo? Did you enjoy it? You said the person doing this wanted a reaction—well, congratulations, you got it. You got everything you wanted. I trusted you… I thought you cared, but you were just playing me all along.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you? Feeding me lies, watching as I fell for every trap you set. And for what? A laugh? A good story?”

“Y/N, that’s not—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I said coldly, my voice breaking. “You’ve already won, I just wonder why you didn’t write your story yet it’s a good one especially the one you —"

“Save it,” I spat out, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “You’ve already won. I just wonder why you haven’t written your final story yet—it’s a good one. Especially the part where you—"

But before I could finish, he cut me off, his voice trembling with an emotion I hadn’t expected.

"What could I have done, Y/N? What could I have possibly done?" he began, his words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "I was there, yes, I was right there with you—through all of it. But do you know why? Do you know why I couldn’t stay away?"

I froze, his words piercing through my anger like a knife. He continued, his voice thick with desperation. "I’ve loved you all this time, from the first day I got off that stupid train, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t remember a single day where I haven’t been in love with you.

He paused, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t just some stupid crush, Y/N. It was an obsession, it was madness—but it was love. I loved you, and I still love you. I was desperate… Desperate to be near you, to be a part of your life, even if it meant doing something as twisted as this."

I stood frozen."You could have just said that. You should have just told me that."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Fucking right, Y/N."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You had a damn prince crying after you rejected him," Mattheo snapped, his frustration and jealousy spilling over. "A prince, Y/N! And here I am, the son of a psychopath, the last person anyone should ever trust, much less love. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, even though my father’s the Dark Lord and everyone expects me to be just like him’? Who the hell would ever want that?"

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he continued, his voice strained. "Every day, I watched you. I saw you with your friends, with guys who could give you everything—everything. And the worst part? The worst fucking part was knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how close I got, it would never be enough. Not for someone like you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from anger. "You don’t get it, Mattheo. None of that mattered to me. None of it. I didn’t care about titles or any of that. I just wanted someone who was real with me. Someone who saw me for who I am, not just as some piece in a game."

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his expression softening. "I did see you, Y/N. That’s why I did what I did. The letters… they were my way of being close to you, of being a part of your world. But I was so scared of losing you, of you finding out what I’d done, that I just kept digging myself deeper. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway."

His voice broke on the last word, and the sight of him standing there, so vulnerable, shattered the last of my defenses.

Just as I was about to respond, movement from the next bed caught my eye. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Enzo sitting up, looking between Mattheo and me with wide, startled eyes, propped up on his elbows.

He Clearly had heard more than enough. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got this thing—relationship phobia. Can’t be around emotional confessions, they give me hives."

He awkwardly shuffled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, guys. Gonna get out of here real quick. Pretend I was never here, yeah?" With that, he practically bolted out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief until the door clicked shut behind him.

This family is insane.

We both stood there in silence for a moment, the sudden interruption leaving us both a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Mattheo didn’t either.

“Y/N,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Please… say something. Anything.”

“You hurt me, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You lied to me, manipulated me."

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. But Y/N, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to keep you close.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I wiped them away furiously, hating how vulnerable I felt in this moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you have to go through all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so quiet, so broken, that it made my chest ache. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to be close to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I loved you without feeling like I was going to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But you didn’t have to do it like this, Mattheo. You didn’t have to lie to me, to manipulate me, just to be close. I would’ve—” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I would’ve loved you anyway."

Mattheo's face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion as he whispered, "You would?" His voice was barely audible, almost as if he didn’t believe the words that had just left his lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the walls I had built around myself beginning to crumble. Without a word, I got up from the bed and walked toward him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Yeah," I finally said, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him. "Because it would’ve been easy, Mattheo."

His eyes searched mine, desperate and lost, as if he was trying to find the truth in my words.

"I’ve loved you," I began, my voice cracking, "from the moment I stepped off that stupid train, too love must have been in the air that day or something. But I couldn’t let myself admit it. Instead, I pushed you away, pretended I couldn’t stand you because I was terrified—terrified of how much I wanted you, how much I needed you." Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them this time. They streamed down my face as I choked out the words I had been too afraid to say for so long. "I didn’t know how to deal with how much you consumed me, so I fought it. But it was always you, Mattheo. It was always you."

He moved closer, his hands gently cupping my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His touch was soft, so different from the way he usually carried himself—like he was afraid I might break if he wasn’t careful.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I did. I do,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned into his touch. “I just didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

Mattheo’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin as he held me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability I’d never heard from him before. “I didn’t know how to show you what I felt without messing everything up. I was so afraid of losing you that I did the exact thing that could drive you away.”

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “I know,” I whispered, my hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I know now that the letters were more about admiring me than harming me. They only felt too much when another boy was involved, and… and I get it. I get that it was your twisted way of dealing with jealousy.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense but soft, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath. “I just didn’t know how to show it without screwing it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I told him, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. “You just have to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Mattheo’s grip on me tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, for forgiveness, and I gave it to him willingly, kissing him back with all the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

As the kiss deepened, I felt the last of my walls crumble, leaving me completely vulnerable in his arms. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that despite everything, this was where I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other from here.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, my voice thick with tears and longing.

“I love you to—”

The door suddenly burst open, and Blaise walked in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He froze for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of us, and then a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t this cozy? I was just coming to grab a book, but it looks like I walked into the middle of a romance novel. Should I start narrating? ‘And in that moment, their love ignited like a house elf’s poorly managed kitchen fire…’”

I felt my face flush, and I quickly stepped back from Mattheo, wiping at my eyes. “Blaise, could you just…not?” Mattheo said .

Blaise chuckled, completely unfazed by Mattheo’s irritation. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, pretending I didn’t walk in on whatever _this_ is.” He waved his hand vaguely in our direction before sauntering over to the bookshelf.

I shot Mattheo a look, trying to stifle a laugh as Blaise exaggeratedly searched for his book, humming to himself like nothing unusual had happened.

Mattheo sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “I’m killing you after this.”

“Nuh,” Blaise called out, pulling a book from the shelf and turning back to us with a grin. “You love me.”

“Debatable,” Mattheo shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Blaise winked at me before heading toward the door. “Carry on with your dramatic declarations of love. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Mattheo looked down at me.

“Where were we?” he asked softly, pulling me back into his arms.

“I think you were about to tell me how much you love me,” I teased, my heart swelling with warmth.

“Right,” he whispered, his voice turning serious again as he leaned in to kiss me. “ Fuck yeah I love you. So much.”