sadnymi
sadnymi
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sadnymi · 1 month ago
Text
Dark haven
singledad mattheo riddle x reader
chapter eight
Series Masterlist
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The sun was blindingly bright, the waves crashing in the distance as warm air clung to your skin. The house Mattheo had brought you to sat just steps from the private beach, the sand white and perfect. Kai had been buzzing with excitement all morning.
But now—he was furious.
“Why not?” he pouted, arms crossed, stomping in the pool like an offended royal. “You said you’d come in!”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” you said softly, crouching near the edge. “But I—I can’t swim.”
He blinked at you like you just told him you were from Mars. “But I’m five and I can swim! Daddy taught me.”
You smiled weakly. “I know. Your daddy is… really good at a lot of things.”
Kai huffed and threw himself on a floaty. “This is the worst day ever.”
You held back a chuckle, standing up—and that’s when you felt it.
Eyes.
Mattheo.
Standing by the patio door with a drink in one hand, his shirt undone halfway down his chest, black sunglasses on, his head tilted ever so slightly as he watched you. You swore the air got ten degrees hotter.
You stepped off to the side of the pool, pretending to adjust your sundress—his gaze didn’t move. If anything, it deepened.
He walked toward you, slow, calculating. Each step an unspoken command.
You turned just as he got close enough for your shoulder to brush against his chest.
“You good?” he asked, his voice like velvet.
“Yeah,” you said, eyes flickering to his lips. “Kai just… wanted me to swim with him.”
He smirked. “You scared I’ll throw you in?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you muttered, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Tempting,” he said, then leaned down, mouth close to your ear. “But I can think of better things to do to get you wet.”
Your knees almost buckled.
Before you could respond, his phone buzzed. His jaw tightened slightly as he answered.
“Thomas,” he said. Then, a pause. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
He kissed Kai’s head and strode back into the house.
You were sitting in the sand with Kai, building something halfway between a castle and a blob, when you noticed his attention wander.
He was staring across the beach at a family—a mom holding a baby girl, a father chasing his toddler through the shallow waves.
His face shifted.
Then, very quietly, he turned to you. “Y/N?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I want a sister.”
You froze. “What?”
“A sister,” he repeated, dead serious. “How can I get a sister?”
You blinked. “Oh, well… um…”
He stared at you, waiting.
Then: “How do people get babies?”
Your soul left your body.
“I—uh—well, sometimes people who love each other very much decide to have a baby, and—”
“So you and Daddy can make me a sister?”
You choked on air. “Kai—no—I mean—I can’t—”
His face crumpled. “Why not?”
“It’s… complicated.”
He stood up, sand flying. “You don’t want to be my mommy! You don’t even want to swim with me!”
“Kai, no, that’s not what I—”
But he was already running—storming toward the house in little furious steps, fists balled up at his sides.
“Kai! Wait—Kai!”
You ran after him, heart pounding, guilt crashing down like a wave.
Inside the house, he was already yelling.
“I hate this stupid house! I want a sister and I want her now!”
You reached for him, kneeling. “Kai, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”
“You don’t want to be part of our family! You don’t even care!”
You held his face gently. “That’s not true, baby. That’s not true at all.”
He was sobbing now, hiccupping, “Why won’t you be my mommy?”
Kai was still crying, loud and trembling, cheeks red and streaked with sand. You had followed him to the living room, your heart in pieces, trying to fix what you didn’t know how to.
You dropped to your knees beside him, your voice barely steady.
“Kai… please. I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, listen to me.”
He sniffled, lip quivering, his voice a dagger.
“Then be my mommy.”
You swallowed, tears burning behind your eyes.
“I can’t.”
His little face twisted. “Why not?!”
Your voice cracked.
“Because… because you have a mom, Kai. And it’s not me.”
The words nearly destroyed you to say.
You wanted nothing more than to hold him and promise him the world—but that would have been a lie. You weren’t her. You never could be.
“It wouldn’t be fair to her,” you whispered, your throat aching. “Wherever she is… she’s your mom, and she always will be.”
Kai stood up, his fists tight, his chest rising and falling with anger.
“No! You’re lying! She left! You don’t care about me either!”
Before you could say another word—
CRASH.
He grabbed a porcelain vase from the table and threw it to the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces, then turned and ran up the stairs to his room, slamming the door so hard the whole wall shook.
And then—
A sharp, cold voice behind you.
“What the fuck did you just say to him?”
You turned, breath catching.
Mattheo stood there. Rigid. Fury etched across his face. His jaw was clenched so hard it looked like it might crack.
“I—” you started, stepping toward him.
He cut you off, voice venomous.
“I told you. I told you one fucking thing—not to bring up his mom. And you couldn’t even do that.”
Your lips parted, the sting in your chest immediate.
“I didn’t mean to—I was trying to calm him down—he asked— I wasn’t trying to hurt him—he asked me how to get a sister! What was I supposed to say?”
“You say anything else! You lie if you have to, but you don’t talk about her.” His voice was thunder. “You knew this would mess him up. You knew it, and you still—”
“He thought I was going to be his mom!” you snapped. **“He’s five! He’s confused and scared and he just wants something to hold onto—”
“Then maybe don’t rip the only thread he has left,” he spat. “Jesus, Y/N.”
That broke something.
You stepped back, tears stinging, your voice lower now. Cold.
“I’m not the problem, Mattheo. I didn’t abandon him. I didn’t lie to him for years and pretend he’s fine.”
He stilled.
The silence after that sentence was vicious.
“What did you just say to me?”
Your chest rose and fell. You didn’t back down.
“You heard me. You’ve spent five years dancing around the truth with him, pretending he’s okay, pretending you’re okay. You don’t talk about her, you don’t let him grieve, you just keep moving and dragging him along—”
“Stop talking.”
“You think protecting him means hiding the past like it didn’t happen. But that’s not how healing works, Mattheo—he’s breaking, and you’re too angry to see it.”
He took one more step forward. The heat from his body clashed with the chill in his voice.
“You work for me.” His words were low. Precise. Each syllable cut like glass. “You’re not here to play mother. You’re not here to question my parenting. You're not part of this family. You’re a fucking employee.”
Your heart dropped.
You looked him dead in the eyes, something ugly and broken surging up your throat.
“Right. Thanks for the reminder.”
You turned to walk away.
“Don’t you dare wa—”
“I gave everything I had to you two.” You spun around, voice shaking. “And the second things got hard, you pulled the boss card. Like none of it mattered. Like I didn’t matter.”
He ran a hand through his hair, furious. “That’s not what I—”
“You think you scare me?” you hissed. “I’ve survived worse than you, Riddle. You want to fire me? Go ahead. But don’t pretend you gave a fuck in the first place.”
“You’re always hiding,” you whispered, voice raw now. “Behind your rules, your control, your temper. You act like you don’t care, like it’s all about protecting Kai—but I think it’s you who’s scared, Mattheo. Not him.”
He blinked once—slow. And when he looked at you again, something had shifted. Hardened.
“Go to your fucking room, Y/N.”
The words hit harder than any scream ever could.
You stared at him, frozen.
“Mattheo—”
“I said, go.”
Your lips quivered. You wanted to fight back. Wanted to scream. But your throat was too full of regret.
You backed away slowly, the burn of tears making your vision swim.
“I didn’t mean that.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t look at you.
You whispered again, voice hollow. “I didn’t mean it.”
Then you turned.
And walked to your room—
The echo of that shattered vase still crunching under your step
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sadnymi · 1 month ago
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DARK HAVEN SERIES
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Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
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sadnymi · 1 month ago
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Hey guys, hope you're all doing okay. I know it’s been a while since I updated Dark Haven—it’s actually been over a month—and I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the silence. I lost someone really close to me, and it’s been a weird, heavy time. I needed some space to process everything. I’m still not fully okay, but I’m trying to be.
That being said, I’m planning to be more active here again. Writing has always been my safe space, and I’m slowly finding my way back to it. I’m also thinking about exploring some new characters, so if you have any prompts or ideas, please feel free to send them my way—I’d honestly love that.
Thanks for sticking around and being patient with me. It means more than you know.
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sadnymi · 2 months ago
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Dark haven
singledad mattheo riddle x reader
chapter seven
Series Masterlist
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You woke up warm.
That alone sent panic shooting through your veins.
You sat up so fast the world spun. Your heart slammed against your ribs, and the memories of last night crashed back into your skull like a hurricane—your shaking voice, your tears, the things you told him. The things you never, ever told anyone.
You bolted to the bathroom.
Your mind screamed: *What if he hates me now? What if he thinks I’m unstable? What if he doesn’t want me around Kai anymore?*
What if he tells me to leave?
You stared at yourself in the mirror while the water ran. Pale. Eyes red. Neck flushed with anxiety.
*You ruined it.*
You showered quickly, changed into jeans and a hoodie, pulling your sleeves down until they covered your hands. You tried to act normal, calm—but the second you opened the door and found Kai’s room empty, your stomach plummeted.
The bed was made. The toys were untouched.
Panic squeezed your throat.
*Did he take Kai away from me? Did he decide I’m not good enough? Disgusting?*
You rushed down the stairs, bare feet light against the cold floor—then stopped.
Everything froze.
There they were.
In the living room, sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows like something holy, Mattheo sat cross-legged on the floor with Kai between his knees, both of them completely absorbed in a half-finished Lego castle. Mattheo’s long fingers moved with precision, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration while Kai babbled beside him, clearly giving instructions.
He wore a black fitted shirt that clung to his arms and chest, hair falling over his forehead in messy strands—his sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he clicked a Lego piece into place. There was something unfair about how good he looked with his son sitting in his lap, safe and *happy*.
*Hot wasn’t the word.* He looked like a god of war pretending to be a dad for the day. Except this wasn’t pretend.
He was a *really* good dad.
So good it made your chest ache.
Then Kai suddenly giggled, loud and breathless, as Mattheo leaned over and caught him from behind—arms looping around the boy’s waist just as he tried to scramble away with a Lego piece in hand.
“Oi,” Mattheo said playfully. “You stealing my bricks now?”
Kai giggled harder. “Nooo, Daddy! I just needed this one!”
“You little thief.” Mattheo grinned as he pulled him back into his lap.
You stood frozen. Watching.
Your heart cracked clean in half.
Then Kai turned his head, spotted you—and lit up like the sun.
“Y/N!” he yelled, scrambling up to his feet, stumbling a little. “Come see what me and Daddy built!”
You smiled instinctively—but didn’t move.
You didn’t trust your legs. Or your heart. Or the tears burning behind your eyes.
Kai didn’t wait. He ran to you, his tiny hand finding yours, gripping tight.
“Daddy said you were sick yesterday, that’s why you had to rest and not play with me,” he said, wide-eyed, voice sweet and sincere. “Do you feel better now?”
You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I do, baby. I really do.”
You looked up.
Mattheo was already watching you.
You met his eyes—and something in your stomach *twisted*.
He didn’t look angry.
He didn’t look disgusted.
Your chest burned.
He stood, scooping Kai up in one smooth motion, his arm strong and easy under the boy’s legs. “Alright, kai,” he said, his voice low but affectionate. “Go to the art room and wait for me, yeah?”
Kai nodded and ran off, arms out like an airplane.
Then it was just the two of you.
He turned to you, eyes sharp now, unreadable.
You barely breathed. “Are you going to kick me out?”
“What?”
You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I-I’d get it if you… if you think I’m not stable enough. After what I said. After what I told you.”
His jaw clenched.
“I understand if you—”
“Shut up, Y/N.”
You blinked, stunned.
Mattheo stepped closer. Not rushed—controlled. That same dangerous calm you’d seen in him before.
He looked down at you, eyes dark.
“I don’t want to hear that shit from you again,” he said, voice low, furious and hot like gasoline over flame. “You think because you survived hell that makes you unworthy?”
You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was in your throat.
He leaned down slightly, towering over you, his hand resting just above your elbow—warm, solid.
“If anything,” he murmured, “that makes you the strongest person in this house.”
You exhaled shakily, your lips parting. The heat between you snapped tight.
“You're not going anywhere,” he said.
You stared at him, and for a second—just one brief, terrifying second—you almost let yourself believe him. Believe you weren’t just a burden. That maybe, just maybe, you were something more.
“Now go join Kai,” he added, straightening up, gaze still heavy. “He’s been waiting to paint
with you all morning.”
You nodded, barely breathing.
But as you turned to go, you swore you felt it—
His eyes still on you.
**Two days passed.**
You did everything you could to avoid Mattheo.
Not because he’d done something wrong—because he hadn’t. If anything, he’d done the opposite. He’d seen your darkest, ugliest truth and hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t judged.
And that terrified you.
So you kept your distance.
You busied yourself with Kai—arts and crafts, breakfast in the garden, bedtime stories with him clinging to your side like your very existence kept him safe. But whenever Mattheo entered the room, your heart picked up. Your hands fidgeted. You smiled too tight. And you left before the air got too thick to breathe.
But then—
“THEO!”
Kai’s delighted scream shook the stillness of the morning, and you peeked around the corner just in time to see him barreling toward Theo.
Theo caught him effortlessly. “Hey, little dragon,” he said, ruffling Kai’s hair. “Miss me?”
“You were gone *forever!*” Kai cried, flailing dramatically. “Did you bring me chocolate?”
Theo chuckled. “Of course I did. I’m not suicidal.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
Theo looked up—and when he saw you, something sparked in his eyes. “Well, hello again y/n,” he said, sauntering over, hands in his pockets.
"Hello Theo,"
"I see you survived those two, you are like my hero now,"
You were just about to throw something back when—
“What’s so funny?”
Mattheo’s voice sliced in from behind.
You both turned.
He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other around a glass of something dark. His jaw ticked. His eyes didn’t leave Theo.
“Oh, nothing,” Theo said, too casually. “Just catching up with your girl.”
Mattheo’s brows lifted. “My what?”
Theo grinned, knowingly. “Your—”
Mattheo didn’t give him a chance.
“I’m going to Amalfi next week,” he said, cutting smoothly through the tension. “Kai’s coming.”
You blinked. “Oh, that sounds—”
“You’re coming too.”
Your mouth opened. “I—I mean if you want me to, I—”
“I wasn’t asking,” he said, his voice low and final. “Be ready.”
You stared at him, speechless. And he just stared right back before walking off, calling for Kai without another word.
"Oh this is fun can’t wait to tell Enzo , you are literally our hero y/n" Theo said smiling before leaving.
\*\*
That night, with your heart still hammering and your hands still shaking, you walked into town with your first paycheck clutched tight in your coat pocket.
It was yours.
And that meant something.
You walked into a little boutique with soft lights and floral perfume, and for the first time in your life, you didn’t second guess touching something beautiful. You picked out a simple cream dress that made your eyes shine. You tried on a pair of shoes that made you feel like you could run toward the life you always wanted. You bought a perfume with notes of vanilla and jasmine—soft, comforting, safe.
You even let yourself linger in the makeup aisle, picking out a tinted balm that shimmered like you’d never let yourself glow before.
Then, at the very last moment, you stopped by the toy section and bought a tiny stuffed dragon for Kai—one that reminded you of the bedtime stories he loved.
You walked home with a paper bag in your arms, your heart full.
That night, you sat on your bed, unboxed everything slowly.
No yelling. No guilt. No one ripping it out of your hands.
You were safe.
And as you lined the perfume and balm on your nightstand and pressed the soft fabric of your new dress to your chest.
You didn’t just heal yourself.
You hugged the child inside you who never got to dream—and told her she finally could.
***********************************
The jet hummed quietly beneath you, its leather seats soft, the windows revealing nothing but clouds and sky. Everything about the private plane screamed wealth, power, control.
But next to you sat chaos in a tiny body.
“I want to sit with Y/N!” Kai suddenly shouted, unbuckling his seatbelt with clumsy fingers.
You blinked, startled. Mattheo, who had been lazily scrolling through his phone on the other side, raised an eyebrow.
“Kai—” he started, but the little boy was already halfway across the aisle, climbing into your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You caught him instinctively. “Careful—”
He snuggled in, grinning up at you. “This is better.”
Your heart fluttered. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, poking your cheek with his tiny finger. “Do you have a mommy?”
You froze.
The air shifted instantly. You could feel Mattheo’s gaze like a weight pressing into your skin. You didn’t dare look at him.
Kai’s question hung in the air, innocent and sharp.
“I… did,” you said carefully.
Kai nodded like he understood loss far too well for a child his age. And then—
“Can I call you mommy?”
Everything inside you stopped.
“Kai…” your voice broke a little. “I—I can’t. This is…”
“Please?” he whispered, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.
Your heart cracked open.
You glanced at Mattheo.
For the first time since you met him, he didn’t have a single word. No biting sarcasm. No cold remark. No protective glare.
Just silence. And something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
Kai hugged you, small arms tight around your neck, his warm breath on your skin.
“You’re the best mommy ever,” he whispered, resting his head on your shoulder. Within seconds, he was asleep.
You wrapped your arms around him, one hand gently stroking his hair, rocking ever so slightly, as if your body instinctively knew how to soothe a child. Your body may not have carried him, but in that moment, you were everything he needed.
Once his breathing evened out, you finally looked up.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Mattheo, guilt burning in your throat. “I didn’t know what to say.”
He nodded.
He didn’t speak—just nodded once, sharply. Then he stood, hands in his pockets, and walked toward the front of the plane, leaving you there with a sleeping boy and a heart that suddenly beat too loud in your chest.
\*\*
By the time the plane landed, the sun was beginning to set—casting a golden glow across the Amalfi coast.
You stepped out onto the tarmac, the breeze warm and salty, the scent of sea and lemon trees washing over you. Kai clutched your hand sleepily, eyes still heavy from the nap.
Ahead of you was the house—a modern villa carved into the cliffs, with whitewashed walls, sprawling terraces, and windows that looked out over the endless blue of the Mediterranean.
It was like something from a dream.
You weren’t sure what scared you more.
That you were in it—
Or that, slowly, part of you didn’t want to wake up.
Kai tugged at your hand, his curls bouncing as he pulled you toward the grassy patch in front of the villa, where colorful beach balls and chalk waited for his chaos.
But then he paused, turned around, and asked, “Y/N, can you swim?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Um… no, not really.”
His eyes widened. “Wait—can you ride a bike?”
“…No,” you said again, a little quieter.
His face twisted in sheer disbelief. “How? Even I can! And I’m little!”
You laughed awkwardly, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Oh… that hit. Right in the gut.
Kai’s innocent words echoed things you’d never had. No gentle father teaching you how to swim. No warm sunny afternoons learning how to ride a bike. No scraped knees and laughter and pride.
Just survival.
“Kai,” Mattheo’s voice came from behind, sharp but not unkind. You looked over and saw him watching. Watching you.
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “It’s okay,” you told him softly. “He’s right. I just… never got to learn.”
Kai frowned, looking between you and his dad. “Maybe Daddy should teach you too.”
You froze. Oh no. No, no, no.
Yeah, that’s *definitely* what you needed. Mattheo Riddle teaching you how to swim? His hands on your arms, guiding you, maybe slipping to your waist… or gripping the bike handles behind you, voice in your ear, breath on your neck.
You were going to combust.
You needed to stop. You needed to stop *now*.
You were almost sure your face was the color of a cherry, blazing red and hotter than the Italian sun.
Mattheo, still watching, raised a brow as if he could read your thoughts. Damn him.
“I have something important to do,” he said suddenly, turning toward the front gate. His voice dropped into that cold, no-questions tone he always used when things were serious. “You’ll have Josh and Carl in the house. More outside. Don’t go to the beach today.”
Kai pouted. “But Daddy—”
Mattheo cut him off, firm but kind. “No, buddy. Not today. You wait for me tomorrow, alright?”
Kai crossed his arms and pouted harder, but eventually nodded.
You sat with Kai in the garden afterward, drawing silly shapes in the dirt with a stick, his giggles grounding you.
But your eyes… your eyes kept drifting toward the gate. Toward the path Mattheo had disappeared down.
Where was he going?
Was it dangerous?
…Was he seeing someone?
You hated the way your chest twisted at the thought. The way a single question—*Is he on a date?*—made your stomach knot and your throat burn.
You shouldn't care.
But you did.
More than you ever meant to.
It was late.
The villa was quiet, moonlight spilling over the marble floors like silk. Kai had already gone to bed hours ago—after ten stories, three goodnight kisses, and one sleepy "I love you, Y/N" that had left a permanent mark on your heart.
But you couldn’t sleep.
You weren’t even sure why. It had nothing to do with Mattheo. Absolutely nothing. Not the way he disappeared earlier, not the unknown destination, not the way your brain kept taunting you with possibilities.
You just… couldn’t.
So, you sat in the dim living room, curled up on the couch with a book you weren’t reading, your mind buzzing far too loud to focus.
Then—you heard it.
The door clicked open.
Boots against tile.
You looked up.
Mattheo Riddle walked in, the same slow, powerful stride as always. Black shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, hand running through his hair like he’d just been—
Your breath caught.
There it was.
A smear of red lipstick on his neck. Faint, but unmistakable.
And worse—your stomach twisted violently as the faint trace of perfume hit your nose. Sweet. Floral. Feminine.
Not yours.
Mattheo noticed you and paused.
"Why are you still up?" he asked, his voice low, unreadable.
You swallowed, forcing a casual shrug. "I couldn’t sleep."
Your eyes met his for a moment too long before you looked away. Before you betrayed yourself.
You tried to ignore the scent.
You tried to ignore the lipstick.
You tried not to picture him—lips on someone else's skin. Hands on someone else’s waist. Breathing someone else in.
God, you were *jealous.*
So jealous you felt like you might choke on it.
But you shoved it down with everything you had, hiding it behind a weak smile and a quieter, “Did you… have a good night?”
He raised a brow, walked closer, and you felt it again—that perfume wrapping around your senses like poison.
"Fine," he said simply.
You nodded, biting your inner cheek. Hard.
You forced yourself to breathe, to stay standing. To act like you didn’t want to claw that lipstick off his neck with your nails.
“Good,” you said, throat dry. “I’m glad you had… fun.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Did I say I had fun?”
You blinked, your lips parting, unsure what to say—how to fix that sentence without sounding more bitter than you already did.
But it was too late. He saw it. The tightness in your jaw. The way your arms folded over your chest. The storm behind your eyes you couldn’t hide.
And then he smirked. That slow, cocky, cruelly amused smirk. As if your jealousy was a fucking dessert to him. As if he wanted you like this.
“Something bothering you, love?” he asked, voice dark and sweet like poison dipped in honey.
You nearly choked on your reply.
“No,” you bit. “Why would anything be?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” He leaned on the doorway, eyeing you with that unreadable heat. “You’re looking at me like you want to rip someone’s throat out.”
You didn’t answer. You turned—too fast.
The glass in your hand slipped, hit the floor, and shattered.
“Shit—” you whispered, crouching quickly to grab the bigger pieces, hands shaking before you could stop them.
“Don’t—” he started, but it was too late.
You hissed when the sharp edge of a piece caught your palm—thin, fast, but enough to sting. A single drop of blood welled up like a secret.
Mattheo was in front of you in less than a second.
“Fucking hell, *don’t move,*” he snapped, voice thunderous, rough, *panicked.*
You froze, stunned by the sudden shift.
He crouched in front of you, grabbed your wrist too tightly, his eyes blazing like someone just lit a fuse inside his chest. His thumb brushed over the cut, jaw tightening at the sight of your blood.
“What the *fuck* were you thinking?” he growled, voice low and possessive and far too intense for a tiny cut.
You opened your mouth, but no words came.
He looked *furious.*
As if the idea of you being in pain, even a scratch, was enough to send him spiraling.
“I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not,” he snapped, lifting your hand higher to examine it. “God, do you have *any* idea what would happen if you actually got hurt?”
You blinked at him, stunned. “Mattheo, it’s just—”
“*Don’t say it’s just a scratch.*”
His voice dropped even lower.
His thumb brushed your wrist again, slower this time. Softer. And when his eyes met yours, the heat there made you forget how to breathe.
“Next time you want to throw jealousy at me, just fucking say it,” he muttered. “Don’t bleed for it.”
You stared at him, breath caught in your throat, skin burning under his touch.
He was still holding your hand like he owned it.
And maybe… he did.
He grabbed your wrist before you could take another step. Firm, commanding.
“Come here.”
You barely had time to react before he gently tugged you toward the sink. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was unshakable. His presence surrounded you—steady, inescapable.
He turned the water on, and when he held your hand beneath the stream, the sting made you flinch.
“Ow—”
“I know,” he muttered, voice low, intense. “Just hold still.”
You tried, but the water hitting the cut sent tiny shocks through your hand. He kept your wrist steady in his grasp, his other hand reaching for a cloth to clean it—slow, careful, precise. You weren’t sure why your heart was thudding louder than the water.
“I wasn’t with anyone,” he said after a long silence.
You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. You stared at the sink, at your bleeding pride.
“She was drunk,” he added. “She kissed me. That’s all. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
You shook your head once, quietly. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not my business.”
He paused. Let the silence thicken between you like fog.
“It’s not?” he said, his tone unreadable.
You didn’t respond.
Then—he moved.
His hand came up slowly, fingers brushing your hair back behind your ear. His touch made your skin hum.
You finally looked up at him, and that was a mistake.
Because the way his eyes locked onto yours? You swore the world stopped moving.
“I like your new dress,” he said, low and warm.
You nearly melted. “Th-thank you…”
“It fits you,” he added. “Looks like you.”
“Like me?” you repeated softly.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Then—he stepped closer. Too close.
One of his hands wrapped around your finger, deliberately slow, his thumb grazing your knuckle. His mouth dipped to your ear, his breath hot and steady.
“You smell so good, too,” he whispered.
Your eyes fluttered closed, your body frozen in fire.
“You always did,” he added, voice like sin.
You swallowed hard. “I… I brought them before we… when we came here—I mean, I—uh—I always wanted to have one of those scents that—”
You were rambling.
Panicking.
Falling.
And he knew it.
He smirked, dragging his thumb one last time across your finger before pulling back—just enough to drive you mad.
Mattheo’s voice was low, thick with something dangerous. “Go to sleep, Y/N.”
You looked up at him slowly, breath still caught in your throat.
He tilted his head, eyes dark. “Go to sleep before you start something you can’t finish.”
You wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him that you could finish it, that you wanted your lipstick on his neck instead of that stranger’s, wanted his breath tangled in yours and his hands on your skin. But all that came out was a slow nod—silent, aching.
You turned, walking back to your room, the tension clawing at your spine.
You didn’t sleep.
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sadnymi · 3 months ago
Text
Dark haven
singledad mattheo riddle x reader
chapter six
Series Masterlist
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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.
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sadnymi · 3 months ago
Text
Dark haven
singledad mattheo riddle x reader
chapter five
Series Masterlist
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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.
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sadnymi · 3 months ago
Text
Dark haven
singledad mattheo riddle x reader
Chapter four
Series Masterlist
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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.
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sadnymi · 3 months ago
Text
Dark haven
singledad! mattheoriddle x reader
Series Masterlist
Chapter three
Warnings: sexual harassment
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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.
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sadnymi · 4 months ago
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Dark Haven
Single dad!Mattheo riddle x reader
Chapter two
Series Masterlist
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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.
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sadnymi · 4 months ago
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Dark Haven
Single dad!Mattheo riddle x reader
Chapter one
Series Masterlist
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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.
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sadnymi · 5 months ago
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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.
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sadnymi · 9 months ago
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Heather
[Theodore Nott x reader]
•Words:1.9k
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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.
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sadnymi · 9 months ago
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I love you, I’m sorry.
[Mattheo riddle x reader]
•Words: 3.7
•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.
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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.
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sadnymi · 9 months ago
Text
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
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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.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
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sadnymi · 9 months ago
Text
I love you, I’m sorry.
[Mattheo riddle x reader]
•Words: 3.7
•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.
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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.
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610 notes · View notes
sadnymi · 9 months ago
Text
I love you, I’m sorry.
[Mattheo riddle x reader]
•Words: 3.7
•Warning : angst-anxiety-fluff.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
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.
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sadnymi · 9 months ago
Text
No one noticed
Mattheo Riddle x reader
Words : 700
Warning: a lot angst - probably gonna be p2
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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
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