#Mattheo riddle

[iris-qt]

🧹 Eyes on the Quaffle, Riddle

“Formations!” you yell, blowing your whistle. “Get in position, you too, Riddle!”

Mattheo, who is currently doing absolutely nothing helpful except leaning on his broom and watching you like you personally invented oxygen, blinks innocently.

“I am in position,” he says, fluttering his lashes. “Emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally.”

“You’re standing on the grass.”

He checks. “So I am.”

You narrow your eyes. “Fly. Now.”

He finally mounts his broom and kicks off, but not before flying close enough to whisper, “Yes, ma'am.”

You clench your jaw so hard your teeth protest. Dating Mattheo Riddle, as it turns out, is a full-time job. Especially when you’re also his Quidditch captain, and he thinks professional boundaries are just suggestions with optional side quests.

“Alright, we’re running the Porskoff Ploy,” you call out. “Riddle, take left flank—"

“I’ll take your left hand in marriage if we win this game.”

“—and shut up,” you finish, pointing your gloved finger at him.

He salutes with a wicked grin, then actually does what he’s told, which is suspicious and terrifying. For a solid twenty minutes, he flies like a model teammate. Executes every play. Doesn’t flirt once.

Naturally, you're worried.

You blow your whistle. “Alright, bring it in.”

They circle back. Mattheo’s sweaty, flushed, grinning like he knows exactly what he’s doing to your blood pressure. You’re holding the clipboard when he lands beside you, peeling off his gloves.

“Proud of me?” he asks casually.

“You actually followed directions,” you mutter, flipping the page, eyes glued to your clipboard. “Should I be concerned?”

He leans in. “I just wanted to see what it takes to get Captain Bossy Boots to kiss me in public.”

You elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t test me.”

“I love testing you,” he says. “You love my tests. You crave the exams I bring into your life.”

“Okay, now you're just saying words.”

“I was being a good boy,” he murmurs. “Didn’t I earn a reward?”

You don’t look up from the clipboard. “You earned laps. For the first thirty minutes when you were being a menace.”

Mattheo groans loudly. “This is workplace harassment.”

“You don’t work here.”

He leans in again, voice dropping. “Then kiss me and I’ll consider it volunteer service.”

You glance around. The team is distracted, some stretching, some rehydrating. You shift your clipboard to block your face and peck him quickly.

He freezes.

“Wait—did you just—”

“One more word,” you warn, eyes still on your notes, “and I’m making you wear the spare practice kit.”

His face drops. “The one that says ‘Kiss the Keeper’ on the back?”

“Exactly.”

He groans again but doesn't push his luck. You smirk to yourself and whistle. “Alright, back in the air! Riddle, keep your hands to yourself this time.”

Mattheo flies off, but not before yelling, “No promises, sweetheart!”

You’re going to murder him.

Or marry him.

Maybe both.

[simp-for-love]

Where the Fire Breathes Soft

DragonTamer!Mattheo Riddle x Teacher!Reader

You take your class on a field trip to a dragon sanctuary, expecting chaos and maybe a little fire. What you don’t expect is Mattheo Riddle — charming, clever, and surprisingly gentle beneath the smirk. Between sunbathing dragons, wide-eyed students, and a tour that turns unexpectedly sweet, you find yourself falling, just a little, for the dragon tamer with a crooked smile.

Warnings: none, fluff to the bones

Word count: 1,7k

A/N: my very late work for week 1 of @acourtofchaos's au event. Hope to catch up with the rest of them soon ♡

You’re pretty sure this wasn’t in the job description.

Sure, it mentioned field trips, but it didn’t say anything about standing ten feet away from a dragon the size of a cottage while trying to look calm in front of twenty excited eleven-year-olds.

You’ve never seen a dragon up close before — unless you count the fold-out pages in Fantastic Beasts for Little Wizards. Even then, it was hard to believe something so majestic and terrifying could be real.

But here you are, standing at the edge of a wide, green field fenced with enchanted barriers, blinking at a sunbathing Norwegian Ridgeback. It looks like an overgrown lizard lounging in the afternoon sun, its dark, iridescent scales gleaming like opals. Around you, a dozen kids press against the barrier, gasping and arguing over which dragon is the coolest.

“Miss! Miss!” little Clara tugs at your coat, eyes wide with awe. "That one just sneezed fire!"

You give her a smile, even though your heart’s trying to climb into your throat. "Yes, dragons can do that, sweetheart."

"She sneezed!" Clara insists, pointing. "She’s like me when I have a cold!"

A warm chuckle comes from your right, deep and effortlessly amused.

"That would be Marigold. She’s a bit dramatic, but harmless. Unless you're a cabbage,"

You glance sideways and promptly forget how to breathe.

The man standing next to you is tall, dressed in a well-worn leather jacket that’s clearly seen its share of flame. His dark hair is tousled, jaw sharp, and eyes startlingly intelligent with a hint of mischief behind them. There’s a dragon-scale glove tucked into his belt, and something about the way he stands — casual, confident, like the dragons answer to him — makes your knees go a little weak. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, revealing strong forearms dusted with faint burn scars and inked runes. You catch yourself staring for a second too long.

"Oh," you manage. "Hello."

"Hi." He offers you a crooked smile, one that makes your heart do something unprofessional. "Mattheo Riddle. I work here."

You shake the hand he offers, and it’s warm, calloused, grounding. "I’m… You can call me Miss Teacher who is absolutely not terrified of dragons."

Mattheo laughs, low and easy, like sunshine on a cold morning. "Pleasure, Miss Teacher. You’re doing well for someone who looks like they might bolt."

"I’m just trying not to faint in front of the children."

"Good goal." He steps a little closer and lowers his voice. "Don’t worry. The dragons can smell fear, but they respect it. Means you’re smart."

"That’s comforting."

He grins wider, like he’s enjoying this, but not in a cruel way. Like he’s almost charmed by your honesty. “Which class is yours?”

"First-years," you say, glancing at the gaggle of kids giggling by the fence. "They’re obsessed with magical creatures right now. Their current theory is that dragons are just flying puppies with attitude problems."

"Not wrong," he muses with an amused grin. "Except for Blaze. Blaze eats puppies."

You gape at him in shock.

He blinks, then breaks into a laugh. The sound so warm and smooth that it makes your heart skip a beat. "Kidding."

You exhale the sigh of relief immediately. "Thank Merlin."

Mattheo chuckles again and gestures toward the enclosure. "Want a proper tour? I promise no incineration. Well, minimal incineration."

You arch a brow. "Do I get hazard pay?"

"No, but you get to walk next to me. That’s got to count for something," he says with a wink that sends a small stutter through your chest.

You laugh, caught off guard. "Charming, aren’t you?"

He gives you a little playful bow. "It’s in the job description," he said without any shame or second thought, grinning proudly.

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Mattheo turns out to be great with the kids. You watch from the edge as he kneels beside one of them, explaining the difference between ridge-back scales and horned-tail ones like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s patient when they interrupt, gentle when they get overexcited, and firm when one of them tries to climb a fence.

You hadn’t expected that. You thought he’d be cocky, maybe even reckless. Swagger and smirks. But instead, there’s this quiet strength beneath all that charisma. Something solid and steady. And it makes you feel... oddly comfortable and safe.

You try not to stare too much as he gestures animatedly toward a Welsh Green gliding in a distant paddock. The sun catches in his hair, and for a fleeting moment, he looks like he belongs to the dragons. Not as their keeper, but their kin.

He catches your across the enclosure and winks again. You look away quickly, cheeks warm.

"Professor?" Clara tugs your sleeve gently to catch your attention. "Do you like him?"

You nearly choke at her question. "What?"

"You’re looking at him like my mum looks at the telly when the handsome prince comes on," she explained calmly with a child's simplicity.

You blink at her for a moment in silence, feeling the heat on your cheeks intensified. "Clara."

"It’s okay," she says seriously with a nod. "He’s handsome. You have good taste."

You consider for a moment whether it’s possible to sink into the earth and never return.

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Lunch is a picnic under the shade of a charmed willow tree. The kids are still buzzing, mouths full of sandwiches, declaring their dreams of becoming dragon tamers. Some sketch their favorite dragons with crumb-covered fingers. You watch their enthusiasm with tenderness and a hint of amusement in your eyes. Soon Mattheo finds you near the feeding pen.

"Enjoying yourself yet?" he asks, leaning casually on the railing beside you.

"It’s... actually better than expected. No one's on fire, so I’m calling it a win," you say with a smile tugging on your lips.

He unwraps a sandwich and glances at yours, still untouched. "Not eating?"

"I'm too enchanted. I mean—interested. In all this." You laugh awkwardly and a bit flustered. "I’ve never seen anyone so comfortable around fire-breathing monsters."

He raises his brow in amusement. "You’re a teacher. You’re surrounded by tiny monsters daily."

You chuckle softly. "Touche."

He gives you a sideways glance, smirking. "You’re braver than you look."

You hum quietly. "Is that a compliment?"

"It is," he says easily. "You strike me as the soft type. Sweet. But you didn’t flinch when Ember tried to lick your coat."

"I couldn’t. The kids were watching."

"Still, you didn’t run." His voice dips slightly, more thoughtful. "That counts."

You glance at him, studying the way the late sun catches in his hair, the curve of his smile that’s equal parts playful and kind. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes your chest feel light and your stomach full of fluttering things.

"You’re not what I expected," you say quietly.

He arches a brow. "No? What were you expecting?"

"I don’t know. Arrogance? Recklessness? Someone who rides dragons without a saddle and uses bad pick-up lines."

He chuckles smoothly, eyes shine with amusement. "I do ride without a saddle, but I leave the pick-up lines to the desperate."

"I feel honored."

"You should." He nudges your elbow softly. "Besides, I don’t need pick-up lines. I’ve got dragons."

You laugh again, unable to help it. Something about him makes you feel safe and smile wider. "You really do."

For a moment, the air between you settles into something quiet. Easy and sweet. You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he says, "You should come back sometime. Without twenty tiny chaperones."

"Is that a professional invitation?"

"Only if you’re into professionalism."

You tilt your head slightly, looking at him. "And if I’m into dragons?"

He gives you a look that’s all charm and slow-burning mischief. "Then I’m very interesting."

Your heart does a little leap again. "I’ll think about it."

"You do that," he says softly, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

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The trip ends too quickly. The kids piling back onto the carriages with sticky fingers and loud voices, waving their goodbyes wildly at every dragon in sight.

Mattheo walks you to the gate, hands in his jacket pockets.

"Thanks for not letting us get eaten," you say with a small smile. You want to prolong this moment, to stay in this fairytale with dragons and Prince Charming for a little longer.

"Anytime." He looks at you, something warm flickering in his gaze. "You really were good with them. The kids."

You shrug a little shy, "It’s easy when you love them."

"I think they love you back."

"Probably because I carry sweets in my bag all the time."

He grins. "Might have to start doing that myself."

You look at him, heart fluttering again. "Do you flirt with every teacher who visits?"

He tilts his head as if considering your question. "Only the ones who make dragon farms feel like fairy tales."

You blink, looking at him with wide eyes. "That’s—"

"Too much?" he asked with slightly bashful and boyish smile.

"A little," you admit with a smile. "But I liked it."

He steps a little closer, just enough for you to catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of smoke and leather.

"Come back," he says quietly and softly. "Next week. Or whenever you like. No pressure. Just... I’d like to see you again."

You bite your lip, trying to hide the silly smile his words cause. "Maybe I will."

"Maybe?"

"Okay. Definitely."

He smiles like you’ve just handed him something valuable. And the shine in his eyes is utterly disarming. "Good."

You linger for a second longer, then turn to follow your class, heart full of butterflies and something almost as fiery as the dragons behind you.

As you step onto the carriage, Clara tugs your sleeve again and whispers, "He definitely likes you."

You glance back to where Mattheo stands by the gate, one hand raised in a lazy wave. His eyes locked on you.

You wave back. "Yeah," you whisper with a silly grin on your lips. "I think I like him too."

[rositxespinosa]

i could really use a soft for me and me only mattheo right about now

mattheo riddle being stupidly soft

throws punches like he doesn’t care if his knuckles bleed but wipes his busted lip with the back of his hand and grins when you scold him. “what? you worried about me, angel?”

smells like smoke and expensive cologne, who always has a cigarette tucked behind his ear but never lights it when you're around because he knows you don’t like the smell

gets into trouble just to make you roll your eyes at him, just so he can tilt his head and say, “c’mon, don’t act like you don’t love me like this.”

always has an arm draped over the back of your chair, who pulls you onto his lap at parties like it’s second nature, who lets everyone know, without a single word, that you’re his

will teach you how to throw a punch but won’t let you actually get into a fight—“nah, angel, that’s my job. you just stand there and look pretty.”

lets you braid his hair, sitting between your legs with his head tilted back against your stomach, eyes closed, a lazy grin on his lips when you call him pretty

steals your hair tie to wear on his wrist, even though it doesn’t match his whole ��i don’t care about anything’ aesthetic, but he keeps it there anyway—just because it’s yours

teaches you how to drive his motorcycle, watching with amusement as you struggle, but when you get the hang of it, he just grins and says, “that’s my girl.”

keeps a picture of you tucked into his wallet, folded and worn at the edges, but if anyone ever points it out, he just scoffs and shoves it deeper into his pocket, pretending it’s not a big deal

acts all tough, all ‘i don’t do romance,’ but still waits up for you when you’re out late, still makes you coffee in the morning (even if it’s terrible), still presses his lips to your forehead when he thinks you’re asleep

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[riddlesrizzler]

teen dad! mattheo 

He wasn’t made for lullabies-born of shadows and snakes, Mattheo lived like chaos, fast and loud and aching to be free. But then came soft hands, small shoes by the door, and a voice that called him Daddy with more trust than he thought he deserved. Now his hands, once clenched in fists, are gentle as they button doll clothes or wipe away tears. He’s still learning, still stumbling, still far from perfect, but every bedtime story he reads in a scratchy voice, every sippy cup of apple juice he prepares, is a vow: he’s trying. She calls him her hero. He calls her his saving grace. And in the quiet, chaotic rhythm of their days, he’s no longer lost-he’s hers.

works

[lushleona]

₊⊹ mattheo and bubblegum!reader’s insta posts ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

disclaimer: the photos in this post are not meant to represent what the reader looks like; they are simply photos i came across that inspired me to create this ♡︎

fake social media posts

nav // m.list // au list // readers

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (9) - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone a while, exams are hard and I am not good at multitasking apparently!

Lorenzo Berkshire was a dead man walking.

At least, he would be—if he didn’t have the smartest survival instincts known to wizardkind.

Because, after accidentally breaking Mattheo Riddle’s prized broom (a brand new, custom-made Firebolt that he loved more than life itself), Enzo did the only thing he could think of to save himself.

He blamed you.

“You owe me,” Enzo had whispered frantically, shoving you toward the Slytherin common room before Mattheo got back. “He won’t kill you.”

You groaned. “Enzo—”

“Please,” he hissed. “Look at me. Do I look like I want to die?”

And, well… he did look properly terrified.

So, against your better judgment, you agreed.

Which was how you ended up sitting on the common room couch when Mattheo stormed in, murder radiating off him.

“Who,” he growled, “broke my broom?”

Theo and Enzo—who had been sitting across from you—immediately turned their heads, looking at you like you had just confessed to a crime.

Mattheo’s eyes snapped to you, and you forced yourself to stay calm.

You took a breath, then—“I did.”

Silence.

A deadly, deadly silence.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a second like he was really trying not to explode.

“Y/N,” he said slowly. “Tell me you’re joking.”

You winced. “I… might have been flying a little too fast?”

Mattheo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, love, you hate flying—why the fuck were you even on my broom?”

And, okay, that was actually a very fair point.

You opened your mouth, ready to lie through your teeth for Enzo’s pathetic sake, but then—

Mattheo sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re so fucking reckless sometimes.”

Your stomach sank.

He had never used that voice with you before.

It wasn’t anger, exactly—it was frustration. Grumpiness. But it still made your throat tighten in a way you didn’t expect.

Because, usually? Usually, when Mattheo was upset, he was upset at everyone else—never you.

Your chest tightened.

Your vision blurred.

And, before you could stop it, your eyes welled up with tears.

Mattheo—who had still been muttering to himself about broom maintenance—froze the second he saw your face.

“Oh, shit.”

Theo’s jaw dropped.

Enzo scooted away like he wasn’t involved in this.

Mattheo’s frustration vanished so fast it was actually comical.

His eyes widened, pure panic flooding his features as he immediately sat beside you, his hands cupping your face.

“Fuck—baby, I didn’t mean it,” he blurted out, looking horrified as your first tear fell. “I’m not mad at you—I swear, I swear—”

You sniffled. “You—You never talk to me like that.”

Mattheo fucking folded.

His entire soul shattered into pieces as he practically wrapped himself around you, one hand stroking your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles into your back.

“I know, love, I know,” he murmured, pressing desperate kisses to your forehead. “I was just in a shit mood—I shouldn’t have said anything—fuck, I’ll buy a new broom, I don’t care—please don’t cry.”

Theo and Enzo watched in absolute shock as Mattheo Riddle—who had been ready to commit murder ten seconds ago—was now holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Enzo, who was definitely about to die if Mattheo ever found out the truth, cleared his throat. “Well. This is… something.”

Mattheo shot him a murderous glare. “Get the fuck out.”

Enzo didn’t need to be told twice.

Theo followed right behind him, whispering, “I told you she was his weakness.”

And, honestly?

You weren’t even mad about it.

[whimsical-reveries]

YES THIS ONE GETS IT

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

[moscatosin]

🐍🖤 types of slytherin lovers 🖤🐍

blaise zabini; the possessive one – that low, velvet voiced jealousy he holds disguised as protectiveness. always has a hand resting on your thigh like a quiet claim. his eyes constantly track you across the castle. not big on words, but everyone knows you are his. would hex someone for looking at you too long. refers to you as ‘mine’ more than your actual name. doesn’t mind you stealing his hoodie because it makes it easier for others to know who you belong to.

lorenzo berkshire; the quiet worshipper – not flashy, blends into the shadows to come out when you least expecting him but oh, he sees you. all of you. every tiny detail. whispers the softest of praises against your skin when he pulls you close which sound more like reverent prayer. holds your hand under the desk in class; eyes glowing with pride whenever you speak. has that rare, angelic kind of smile that's just for you. every morning brings your favourite beverage to your dorm no questions asked. your personal calm in the storm although he's nothing but trouble.

draco malfoy; the schemer - forever plotting something, usually to spoil you. weekend getaways, surprise tickets, talks with connections to get you out of detention mysteriously. smooth talker with the devils smirk. knows your tells, uses them to his advantage. likes to think ten steps ahead when it comes to you and your happiness. "baby trust me" - and not only does the comment make you melt, somehow, you always do.

mattheo riddle; sinner with a soft spot - doesn't play nice with others if he doesn't have to, but folds like paper for you. sneaks you into his dorm after midnight for a little 'alone time'. knows the exact moment to appear when you need him. soft kisses behind closed doors which feel like confessions. tells you secrets that no one else knows. lets you get away with whatever you want to do because if someone doesn't like it; his fist to their jaw makes their attitude as good as new.

tom riddle; the dangerous charmer - has charisma that drips like honey, but you know he's not that sweet. all the girls want him, but he only wants you. controlled yet flirtatious to a fault when its necessary. silver tongued and a little too good at undoing you. won't admit it but likes the way you blush. reads your thoughts like his own personal book for his gain. drags you out on midnight prefect patrols to take stolen kisses within hidden corridors.

theodore nott; the best-kept secret - forever by your side when the world turns cold. doesn't care who he has to go through to get to you. sends threatening glares across the great hall at anyone who dares to talk to you. sharp tongue. even sharper when it's down your throat. the kind to meet you in the shadows so that no one knows how close you really are. soft smirks sent your way when no one is watching. would burn the world for you and then ask if you're warm enough before tying his scarf around you.

[drcomttheo]

MATTHEO RIDDLE x YN

summary: Mattheo is sick and is overdramatic warnings: Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy words: 1597 a/n: Rework of my Anidala oneshot "Man Flu" Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

It had been a particularly long night for you, who found yourself awake through the hours, devotedly caring for Mattheo as he battled his “Dragon Pox,” a condition more commonly known as “man flu.”

Despite the heavy burden of fatigue, you stood by Mattheo's side, your heart filled with devotion as you meticulously administered his medications. With gentle hands, you wiped his brow, your touch soft and soothing, while he lay there, his body trembling with powerful sneezes and soft moans of distress.

However, as time went on, you reached a point where you could no longer bear the circumstances.  His relentless monologues of self-pity, lamenting his perceived suffering and declaring himself  “dying,” gnawed at your composure, and you fought to uphold a facade of patience and empathy.

You struggled to understand how a simple cold could basically incapacitate someone. Nevertheless, you devoted yourself to his care, providing warm beverages and soothing words, all the while internally rolling your eyes at his dramatic expressions of suffering.

“Mattheo!”

Mattheo let out a low groan, his eyelids fluttering as he shifted his gaze to you. "Yes, my love?”

 Your gaze sharpened, your exasperation with his theatrical antics almost consuming you. "Mattheo, you're acting like a child. You're suffering from a cold; it's not a serious illness."

Mattheo winced, his hand soaring to his chest in a dramatic flourish, "But this is different, my love. This is the worst sickness ever. I can hardly breathe; I feel like I'm dying!"

"Jinky! Check Mattheo! Please tell me what his diagnosis is," you exclaimed with a flourish.

Jinky, the ever-dutiful house-elf, hurried into the room, his small exterior strutting in.

“Certainly, missus. Allow me to assess Master Mattheo's state."

Jinky, the best nurse elf, began to meticulously work on Mattheo, assessing his vital signs and symptoms with precision.

After a brief pause, he shifted his gaze to you and remarked, "Jinky thinks that Master Mattheo's condition is not grave. He just has a common cold, and it poses no threat to his life."

Mattheo's expression darkened at Jinky's revelation. He had yearned for a diagnosis of greater gravity, one that would warrant the indulgence and care of you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you looked at Mattheo's disheveled face.

“See, my love? It's just a cold. Nothing serious. Now stop being such a baby and behave like the powerful Death Eater you claim to be."

Mattheo's face contorted in a dramatic grimace.

"But I feel terri-ibleee. I can barely move! I need more..." he murmured, raising his cup with a glint of longing in his eyes.

Your eyes fluttered in exasperation, a storm of irritation brewing within you as you struggled to contain your rising frustration.

You let out a soft sigh, your gaze lingering on him. "Mattheo, you've already had three cups…” With a soft sigh, you settled beside Mattheo, your fingers gently tracing the curve of your belly, a silent testament to the life growing within you. 

Mattheo, his attention caught by the subtle gesture, abruptly broke free from the confines of his theatrical pretense.

He sat up slightly, genuine concern flashing in his eyes. "My love... Is the baby alright? Is yours a problem?"

Your irritation faded like a distant memory, giving way to a tender smile as you sensed the delicate flutter of life blossoming within you.

"No, Matty. The baby is fine. Just moving around a bit."

Mattheo's eyes shimmered with a tender light as he extended his hand, resting it gently on your belly, his fingertips brushing against the soft curve as he sensed the delicate fluttering beneath your  skin.

At that moment, a wave of clarity swept over him, unveiling the profound truth underlying your fatigue.

A pang of guilt stirred within him, a reminder of how lost he had been in his trivial struggles, oblivious to the weight you carried.

"I’m truly sorry, my love," he whispered, his voice laced with genuine emotion. "I've been so focused on myself, I didn't stop to consider how hard this pregnancy is on you."

"It's alright, Matty," you reassured him, your voice soft yet firm. "I just need to rest for a moment." Mattheo nodded, his expression a delicate dance of remorse and admiration, as if caught in the throes of a bittersweet memory that lingered in the air between you.

In the quiet of the moment, a tender squeeze of his fingers around yours conveyed a message. "Of course, my love. You need to rest. I'll take care of things for you. Get some sleep."

You reclined against the plush pillows, a soft, weary smile gracing your lips as you surrendered to the moment.

As you closed your eyes, a gentle wave of relief washed over you, the burdens of fatigue gradually dissipating into a dream.

Mattheo stood watch, his thoughts wandering from his insignificant concerns to center entirely on you, the one he adored, and the precious life you had created together.

~~~

Hours later, you awakened from your dreams, your eyes fluttering open with a hint of drowsiness as shadows waltzed gently across the walls and a serene stillness wrapped around the space.

A wave of disorientation enveloped you, slowly giving way to the familiar contours of your surroundings as you began to piece together the fragments of your reality. You glanced across the room, and a flicker of surprise crossed your features as you realized that several hours had slipped away since you last surrendered to sleep.

As you stirred awake, confusion wove itself into the delicate fabric of your thoughts, your brows furrowing in a silent dance of uncertainty.

You sat up, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you like a soft, familiar blanket.

Where was Mattheo?

With a gentle grace, you slipped from the bed, your movements measured and intentional, as if you sought to reclaim your sense of self within the serene embrace of the moment.

With each silent step upon the cool stone floor, your unease deepened, wrapping around you like a shroud.

The absence of Mattheo's presence created an emptiness that lingered in the stillness of the air around.

Where could he have gone?

You were experiencing a flood of different situations in your head, which caused your thoughts to spiral with worry.

Your sense of dread increased with each step you took until you eventually recognized a figure standing on your balcony. 

Mattheo lingered at the precipice, his figure a dark silhouette against the vast expanse of the night sky, while the distant glow of the stars wove a mesmerizing tapestry in the background.

Your heart hammered within your chest as you approached him, your footsteps delicate and cautious. You lingered beside him, your voice a delicate blend of concern and intrigue, as if the very air between you crackled with unspoken questions.

"Mattheo," you whispered, your fingers delicately finding your place on his shoulder, "I've been looking for you."

The gentle caress of your hand upon his shoulder ignited a surge of consciousness that coursed through Mattheo's very essence.

Startled, he turned, his face a mask of surprise quickly obscured by a sheepish smile.

"Ah, my love," he whispered, a hint of remorse lacing his words. "You were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you…anymore. I just needed some fresh air."

"You're feeling better then, Matty?"

Mattheo inclined his head, his eyes drifting to the calming expanse of the forest that lay ahead. "Yes, my love. The crisp air worked its magic on me.”

Your gaze lingered on his features, meticulously examining you for any traces of unease or fatigue that might linger beneath the surface. Your hand gently slipped into his.

“Mattheo,” you began softly, your voice laced with a blend of worry and warmth. "You know you don't have to pretend, right? I know you tend to be a bit”…

He let out a soft chuckle, a glimmer of self-awareness dancing in his eyes. "Oh, you mean dramatic?"

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your gaze. "Let's say theatrical... when it comes to sickness. You tend to exaggerate a bit."

Mattheo pretended to be wounded, dramatically placing a hand over his heart in a display of feigned indignation. "Exaggerate? Me? Never!" he protested, a playful smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, a melodic sound that danced in the air, before a gentle sigh escaped your lips as you drew nearer to him.

Mattheo's arm encircled your waist, pulling you gently against him, your connection deepening in the quiet moment you shared.

He took a deep breath, relishing the serene stillness that enveloped you, the crisp night air wrapping around you like a gentle embrace, and the warmth of your presence pressed against him.

"You don't have to pretend to be sick to get my attention."

Mattheo's eyes returned to yours, a warmth blooming in his expression.

"I know," he confessed softly, his fingers delicately weaving a calming rhythm against your waist. "I just... I enjoy being pampered by you, Y/N."

In that fleeting moment, his voice trembled with a hint of vulnerability, revealing a rare glimpse of unfiltered honesty that surprised you.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a soft smile illuminating your face. With a delicate grace, you reached out, your fingers softly sweeping a wayward strand of hair from his forehead.

"Mattheo," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm in the tense air, "there's no need for you to pretend to be unwell to capture my gaze. You always have it, no matter what."

[sweetiechichi]

sass w/ matty

"you can't wear that," mattheo mutters, not even looking up at first.

you pause mid-swipe of your lip gloss. "why not?"

his eyes drag up slowly. lazy, sharp. "'cause if you walk into the great hall looking like that, i'm gonna have to fight someone. and i just got detention cleared."

you smile, all fake-sweet and unbothered. "hmm sounds like a you problem."

he stands, all slow and deliberate, the kind of movement that makes your stomach twist. "no, doll, thats a we problem now."

[harkovsangel]

ㅤ♡ྀི Being throat fucked by bully!Mattheo… a need

cw: 18+!, mdni, mean!bully!Mattheo, throat fucking

You felt pathetic, arms tied behind your back and entire body naked. The feel of the belt around your wrists was rough and pressing into the flesh of your lower back.

What was even more pathetic? The fact you were willingly sprawled out like this for your own bully. The same persons who’s stopped at nothing to make your life hell for years.

The only sounds that filled the air was the wet sounds of Mattheo fucking his cock into your throat. Quiet groans escaping his mouth while he watched where his cock disappeared into your mouth with hooded eyes, breathing uneven.

“You like this?” Mattheo hummed, his hand reaching down to place a harsh slap to one of your tits. “Having your throat fucked like a free use toy? By your bully at that.” He chuckled, tone condescending and holding an air of smug confidence.

You tried not to but couldn’t help it, moaning around his cock at his words. Mind not even processing the sting of his slap or the feeling of his hand trailing up your body to roughly grab your throat. Smirking at the bulge that he could feel in your throat from his cock.

“Of course you fucking do, probably fantasize about this shit at night.” He says degradingly before going back to using your throat like a toy. Not a care in the world for your breathing or comfort. Because all you are is another thing for him to use.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by harkovsangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[nottswitch]

heyyy girl may i request nsfw 4 with bodyguard!mattheo?

4. what’s a foolproof way to turn you on?

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

mattheo’s fingers subtly clench into the fabric of his black cargo pants, as if he’s restraining himself. a small, barely-there smirk appears on his face, one that rarely ever graces his handsome face.

“you might wanna try a shorter skirt next time,” he says steadily after a few moments of deliberate suspense. “and maybe some stockings. the ones with the lace.”

his brown eyes darken ever so slightly, and if you looked down, you’d notice a tent starting to form right between his thighs. “but i’m warning you, princess… you’re gonna be playing with fire.”

get to know my aus.

[redeemingvillains]

the knight's oath - knight!mattheo riddle

"I vow on my life that I will be faithful to my lord."

His eyes followed your every move. Because, of course, that's what he was trained to do. Even deep in the royal garden. Even where no one could see either of you.

He watched the way your delicate fingers brushed the flowers as you walked past them, the way the sun shone in your hair, the part of your lips, pink, like peonies, like cherry blossoms. And he wondered for the thousandth time what they would taste like.

"I will never cause him harm."

You spent enough time together that he was sure you could read his mind as you rolled your bottom lip into your mouth, biting it gently in thought.

He squirmed in his gear, against the heat, against the frustration.

"I will observe my homage to him completely."

And then the sleeve of your dress slid off your shoulder.

For the third time.

But you didn't move to catch it.

And he didn't move to avert his eyes.

Instead, he drank in the sight of your exposed skin, breathing slow and deep in an effort to maintain his composure as you turned and looked at him beneath your eyelashes, acknowledging the act that could have you both executed.

"In good faith. Without deceit."

"Mattheo" you said, addressing him casually, familiar, as you smiled at him and tilted your head, knowing exactly what you were doing, your words like warm, melted honey.

He swallowed. And then he spoke, his voice hoarse, husky.

"Highness."

"Help?" you asked, shrugging your bare shoulder.

"That my heart would know only virtue."

His eyes met yours and he stepped forward, closing the space between you.

Without breaking eye contact he let his calloused fingers, worn from the familiarity of his blade draw slowly up your arm.

He watched the way your breath hitched at just the hint of his touch, how you leaned forward eagerly as he fingered the featherlight fabric and pulled it gently back to its rightful place, lingering there before brushing the back of his finger down your collarbone, a taunt, a tease that you felt in every inch of your body.

"That my intentions would know only purity."

You gazed into his warm brown eyes, eyes that never left you, in your waking, in your sleep, in your dreams.

You gazed at the scar he wore at his eyebrow from valor in battle that reminded you exactly what he was capable of; the same battle that earned him the honor of joining your guard, because there was nothing more important to your betrothed than protecting his princess.

But what the prince didn't know.

Was that his biggest threat.

Was already inside the castle.

"That I would defend him her to my last breath."

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @pizzaapeteer @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts

thank you @acourtofchaos for planning this amazing au event! it's been so much fun! ♡

[riddlesdove]

mercenary!mattheo confronts you, his partner and friend, after you both return from a mission where you refused to listen to him and things take a heated turn

c/w: 18+. piv, oral (female & male recieving), angry mattheo, slightly bitchy reader

wc: 2k

“What the fuck were you thinking.” Mattheo spits the second you close the door and you whirl around to face him wide eyed. “Do you have any idea how stupid it was running off like that? No back up and no clue if there were more of them lurking around. You’re lucky I followed.”

You frown, immediately defensive.

Unable to fight the bitter edge to your voice at the way he's berating you like a child. “I had it handled, Riddle. If I’d listened to you the targets would have got away and ran back back to their boss and we’d lose a chance at him again.” You huff.

He glowers at you, muscles in his jaw twitching in irritation whilst he paces the small living area of your shared apartment.

“No, if you’d listened to me I wouldn’t have had to save your ass because you can’t follow simple orders.” Mattheo sneers.

You lunge from your place leaning against your door frame, striding towards him until the heat of his skin mixes with your own as you jab a finger into his firm chest.

“Fucking watch it, Riddle.” You snarl, rage hot in your blood as he watches you - eyes glinting dark. Amused. “I did what I thought was best. You want to act like a spoilt little bitch because someone else got the lead on him, fine, but don’t blame me. As far as I’m concerned I was doing my job.”

Fire snaps in his eyes and then he’s glaring down at you once again. A small thrill racing down your spine when a small part of your brain whispers that you’ve never seen Mattheo this angry before. That you kind of like how it looks on him.

Dark curls in total disarray from where he’s tugged them in frustration, a light tremble to his hands as they clench into fists by his sides and when his voice comes out it isn’t warm like you’re used to. It’s dark. Rough. Honey oozing over so much fucking grit.

“You think this is because I didn’t get the lead?” He seethes, fists unclenching to wrap his fingers around your wrists. “You could’ve died.”

You bristle at his tone and attempt to snatch your wrists from his grasp, teeth bared when he holds firm.

“Maybe if I died you might finally get a partner you can actually keep up with.” You snap, inhaling sharply when he yanks you into his chest and lets go of one wrist to snatch at your chin, tilting your face to look up at him.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t die at all.”

“Oh like you give a shit! By the sounds of it I’m nothing more than a nuisance for you to babysit, you should be glad–mmph.”

Mattheo crashes his mouth to yours, effectively cutting off your bitter words as your eyes grow wide with shock. He pulls back lightly, eyes hot as he mutters against your mouth.

“Fuckin’ stubborn girl, you drive me insane.”

You growl, hand diving into the curls at the nape of his neck to yank him back towards you as you slam your mouth to his. The kiss frantic and rough - desperate to taste one another after years of holding back. His stubble scratches your skin as his tongue parts your lips to slide along your own and he groans into your mouth, hands latching at your hips.

You can’t get enough of how he feels. Your hands slipping beneath his shirt to stroke across warm skin - nails scraping down his stomach to pull a shuddering groan from his chest.

He wrenches his mouth away to press kisses along your jaw, nipping the curve of your neck.

“Mattheo–" you whimper,"please.”

“Fuck - the way you say my name. Tell me what you need.”

You pull his mouth back to yours, tangling your fingers through soft hair, words a rushed mumble against his lips.

“I need you.”

Dark eyes search yours for any sign of doubt or hesitancy, breath stuttering when he finds none. His hands sweep over your sides, reaching to grab handfuls of your ass as he smirks cheekily at you before gripping your thighs and you jump.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back against the door when he slots against you, hips rocking in a teasing rhythm.

“Does that feel good, angel?” He taunts, smug, before you reach down to grasp him through his jeans. He chokes on air as you palm at him and suck his bottom lip into your mouth, scoring the flesh between your teeth.

“You really shouldn’t tease me, baby” You whisper, releasing his lip with a sinful pop.

The room spins as Mattheo tears you away from the wall. Marches into your room before throwing you down onto the bed.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, sucking kisses in a searing hot trail down each newly revealed part of skin with every piece of clothing he rips from you. When he reaches your jeans, deft fingers slip the button open and drag the zipper down before he yanks them down your legs.

Mattheo’s eyes burn darker at the wet patch growing on the fabric of your underwear and you can’t tell if it’s a curse or a prayer flying from his lips when he tears them from your body and his eyes rake over you bared to him.

You tremble under the intensity of his warm gaze and he smiles at you gently, dropping careful kisses on your thighs as you sigh and card your hand through his dark curls. His stubble tickles the soft, tender skin and you squirm lightly, breath hitching, causing his heart to flip as he grins at you.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers, pushing your legs apart so he can nestle between your thighs.

“Mattheo.” You breathe.

“Let me taste you. Please.”

You barely manage a nod before he dives in, dragging a hot, greedy line from your entrance to your clit. Fingers spreading you apart to gain better access. It has your hips bucking against his face as his tongue spears inside you and a strong arm wraps around your waist to drag you closer - pinning you to the bed and against his desperate mouth.

It’s so much.

Almost too much.

Pleasure shrieking through your veins and needy moans swelling in your throat. You shove a hand against your mouth to muffle your cries when he sucks your clit into his mouth and jolt when a large hand comes down on the flesh of your thigh.

A warning growl in the back of his throat that makes your eyes roll back. “Don’t you dare hide from me.” He rasps. “I want to hear you scream.”

You shudder before doing as he says.

And when you look down Mattheo’s gaze is already blazing into yours. Pupils blown wide, turning his eyes into endless pools of black. You hold his stare even when he slides his finger inside you, moaning as he curls and twists them until you're trembling in his hold.

Your lashes flutter as heat pulses in your lower belly, turning white-hot when he grins against your cunt. His fingers sinking into the meat of your thighs as he swirls his tongue before you feel the shock of teeth grazing your clit.

You shatter then, head thrown back to the mattress and a broken cry of his name shredding through your lungs. Convulsing beneath his hands and his mouth until the last echoes of release burn through you and you fall limp.

He kisses his way back up your body afterwards. Sinking into your embrace when you lazily throw your arms around his neck and draw him to your lips, your tongue sliding over his, goosebumps breaking out over your flesh at the taste of yourself.

Your head is swimming, filled with nothing but Mattheo’s presence as it engulfs you. The taste of him on your lips, his scent all over your skin and the hard, needy press of him hot against your thigh.

Suddenly it feels like a sin that he’s still fully clothed whilst you're naked and you say as much to Mattheo who without another word, offers himself to your mercy.

He sucks in a sharp breath when you rise to your knees and shove him on his back, moving to straddle his hips as you slowly push his shirt, gentle hands mapping over every inch of tanned skin you can reach. Marvelling at the soft warmth of him as your mouth slips across his chest, down his stomach whilst your fingers glide down his arms.

It makes him dizzy to be treated with such tenderness, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as the touch of your lips brand him again and again. Gulping when you slither down his body to drag them rid him of the rest of his clothes.

He smiles slightly, a little flush with pride, when your movements slow to take him in. Eyes rounding and the sweep of your tongue over your lower lip to wet it as you softly hum his name.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” You murmur and he swallows hard, pink briefly dusting high on his cheeks.

His thighs quake when your nails scrape across the tender skin and you can no longer resist the urge to lower yourself to where he aches for you. To lick a slow stripe up his length before taking him in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around him and his hips cant, the muscles of his thighs shuddering beneath your palms. Fingers stroking him through the need that burns fierce in his gut as he watches with a wrecked groan as you swallow him down.

It’s with more restraint than he’d ever care to admit that he tangles his fingers in your hair to pull you off rather than further against his hips - to go against the urge to rock into the warm suction of your mouth when you begin building a dizzying rhythm.

“I’m not going to last if you keep that up, angel.” He pants. “Need to be inside you now.”

Impatient hands grasp at your arms to drag you up his body and you jerk when his cock slides through the seam of your pussy as you straddle him.

Mattheos breath catches when he stares up at you, eyes hooded and jaw a little slack. Smoothing his touch over your soft skin before he cups the weight of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples to draw a sweet sigh from you.

“Always knew you’d look good up there.” He grins and the sound is like warm honey drizzled over your heart. Making you go liquid soft for him.

Leaning down ever so slowly, your hand comes to lightly grasp his jaw.

“Not as good as you look beneath me, Riddle.” You purr as your lips brush against his, almost collapsing against his chest when he yanks you closer to deepen the kiss.

You reach between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock to lead him to your entrance. There’s a moment, a soft pause where you watch each other with heaving chests and parted lip. And then you slowly sink down to the hilt.

“Fuck.”

He fills you so completely that your mouth drops open on a breathless moan. Awestruck at the way nothing has ever felt so right as he does, thick and heavy as he rests inside you, and you wonder if this is how it feels for someone to brand themselves on you. To carve you out so specifically that only they could ever fit you again.

A firm hand squeezes your hip, and you quickly snap out of the euphoric daze - glancing down to find Mattheo’s pleading eyes on yours. Begging you to move soon as the muscles in his jaw and neck strain with the effort of holding back.

You rise up, eyes fluttering closed as the new position has him sliding in deeper and slowly, you begin rolling your hips, lifting off his length that little bit further each time only to quickly drop back down.

The drag of him has your nails scraping down his chest and he hisses before thrusting sharply into you, knocking a hoarse cry from your lungs as the head of his cock spears against something cataclysmic.

And Mattheo immediately wants more of that sound, chasing it with relentless determination as he plants his feet and thrusts up hard. One hand drifting away from your breast, slipping low until there’s the delicious press of his fingers at your clit, drawing tight circles in time with each snap of hips.

“Mattheo–” You whimper. “Oh my god.”

Your second climax feels like an impending storm. It gathers energy, chaotic and devastating - brewing to an almost suffocating degree before it strikes without warning. Snatching the breath from your lungs before you even know that you're breaking, shuddering apart as it rages within you.

Your arms buckle and then Mattheo’s are wrapping around you the minute you collapse into his chest, his mouth hot against your temple as he makes soft, soothing sounds. Pressing sweet words of praise into your skin as you gasp whilst his pace quickens and grows jagged. Desperate.

You feel it when he reaches his end. Feel him grow even harder inside you, pulsing, and then there’s a rush of warmth as his lips slide carelessly over your cheek. Parting against your skin with a strangled groan of your name.

Neither of you move for what feels like an age, tangled together as you catch your breath and steal slow kisses. Smiles soft and almost giddy against each other’s mouths. It makes you sigh happily, melting into his warmth when he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing a kiss to your nose and then your forehead where a light frown appears the moment you allow your mind to drift. 

“What happens now?” You whisper to him quietly, flushing when he draws back just enough to look at you properly and trails gentle fingers over your cheek. 

“Now we sleep for a bit, today has been stressful.” He murmurs tiredly before something wicked sparks in his eyes. “And when we wake up, I’m going to make you cum on my fingers and my mouth before I fuck you again. Then we make a plan to hunt that fucker down, together.” 

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙤𝙤𝙝

summary: You can’t just sit in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes. characters: mattheo riddle. shy! ravenclaw! reader. mentions of slytherin boys. warnings: none! word count: 2.5k

The familiar buzz of morning chatter filled the air, but it was all too distant, too muffled in the back of your mind as you scanned the room. Mattheo’s friends were clustered together at their usual spot, sitting at the Slytherin table, their voices rising above the hum of conversation. You felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist tighter in your stomach.

The weight of the book, the note-it had been all you could think about since you found it, and now you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You told yourself to breathe, to focus. The cool morning air filled your lungs as you exhaled, and you forced your legs to move toward them, each step feeling heavier than the last. You had to speak to him. You had to understand what it all meant-the book, the message, his intentions. You had no answers yet, only questions swirling in your mind.

As you neared the table, Draco was the first to notice you. His gaze flicked up from his conversation, and a knowing look passed between you two-sharp, almost predatory. He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips, but he didn’t speak, simply watching you. He knew why you were here, and he wasn’t going to offer any assistance unless you asked. It was in his nature to let you come to your own conclusions.

Theo, however, didn’t have that same reserved nature. He glanced up from his food, his eyes scanning you briefly before his lips twitched into a grin. The grin wasn’t malicious, but there was a hint of mischief there, as though he had already guessed the reason for your sudden appearance. His posture was casual, laid-back, the picture of someone who had all the time in the world, but you could feel his gaze sharpen on you when you stopped in front of him.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice low and easy, but there was something almost knowing in his tone, as though he’d seen this all play out a thousand times before.

You hesitated, caught in the rush of emotions and confusion. Finally, you managed to speak, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “Do you know where Mattheo is?”

The question hung in the air, a thick silence settling over the table for a moment. Theo’s grin widened, and you swore you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as the attention shifted to you. Enzo, who had been pretending to concentrate on his breakfast, looked up, his eyes glinting with amusement. He exchanged a knowing glance with Theo before leaning forward slightly.

“You got his message then?” Enzo’s voice was light, but there was an edge of something deeper to it, something that made your cheeks burn hotter.

“Yes,” you answered, your voice quieter than you intended, but the words carried the weight of everything that had built up in your chest. “But I need to talk to him. Where is he?”

Theo chuckled softly, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back in his seat, making no effort to hide the amusement on his face. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, but his smirk faded slightly, his expression growing more serious, almost thoughtful.

“He’s probably in the Quidditch locker rooms,” he said, his voice unhurried, as though it were an obvious fact. “That’s where he goes when he needs to think. If he’s been, you know, trying to figure stuff out.”

The words hit you like a sudden blow to the chest. The Quidditch locker rooms? The thought of him being so close, yet so far away, sent a jolt through you, but it also fueled the urgency in your veins. You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to find him.

You nodded quickly, already turning toward the door. The air in the hall felt thick now, the space closing in on you as you tried to push past your nerves. But just as you were about to walk away, Theo’s voice stopped you.

“Hey,” he called out, his tone a little more serious now, softer than before. It was almost as if he were considering his words carefully. You turned back, confused, because this wasn’t the Theo you were used to-the one who teased relentlessly, who always had a sarcastic comment on hand.

This Theo was different. He was still sitting casually at the table, but his eyes had lost their usual edge, replaced with something far gentler.

“I just want you to know something,” he continued, his voice quiet but firm. “Mattheo... he’s never really been the type for all the... bookish stuff. You know, the notes, the quotes, all that. But he’s doing it for you. He’s been trying because... well, he cares.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. They were simple, and yet they held so much weight. You swallowed hard, trying to digest what Theo had just said. Mattheo, the one who always seemed so guarded, so distant, had been changing for you? The realization left you momentarily speechless, and for a moment, you felt vulnerable-exposed.

But at the same time, there was something undeniably comforting about Theo’s blunt honesty. It was like a small reassurance, a promise that maybe you weren’t walking into this blind.

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice softer than you expected. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at your lips as you turned away, heading for the door once again. “I’m going to go find him.”

As you made your way toward the exit, Enzo’s voice called after you, light and teasing, but there was a warmth in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t just joking. “Good luck!” he called, his voice carrying across the room with a touch of mockery, but underneath it, you could hear the sincerity.

You didn’t look back, but the small gesture made your chest feel lighter, as though it had all somehow shifted. The Quidditch locker rooms. That’s where you’d find him. Your pulse quickened with every step, your thoughts racing ahead of you. What would you say? How would you even begin? The words you had rehearsed in your mind felt suddenly insufficient, and the weight of the moment pressed down on you, but you couldn’t turn back now. You just hoped that when you found him, you’d be able to find the right words-words that would finally unravel the tension, finally explain the feelings swirling between you both.

And as you pushed through the door, stepping out into the crisp morning air, the world around you felt like it was holding its breath.

-

The Quidditch locker rooms were enveloped in an eerie kind of stillness, the only sound the soft, rhythmic brushing of Mattheo’s broomstick being polished. The faint, comforting smell of wood polish and leather clung to the air, mingling with the lingering scent of freshly cut grass from the pitch outside. The mid-morning sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting soft, golden beams across the room, illuminating the dust motes floating lazily in the air.

Mattheo, with his usual intensity, was meticulously focused on his task, his brow furrowed in concentration as he ran a cloth over the broom, ensuring every inch was spotless. His hands moved with practiced ease, the movements almost ritualistic, as though the broomstick itself demanded the same precision and care he gave everything else.

But you couldn’t focus on the serenity of the moment. Every step you took toward him felt like it was dragging you through a thick fog of uncertainty. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, your heart hammering in your chest with every echoing footstep. This wasn’t a place you had ever imagined being, not like this, not with everything you had kept buried for so long. You had been avoiding this conversation, this confrontation with your own feelings, but now it was all too real. The words you had kept locked away were threatening to spill out, and no amount of hesitation could hold them back.

You paused in the doorway, your hand brushing against the frame as you gathered your courage. Mattheo didn’t seem to notice you at first; he was too caught up in his task, his focus entirely on the broom in his hands. It was only when you took a quiet breath and said his name that he looked up.

“Mattheo?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the quiet like a sudden rush of wind.

His head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise as they locked on you. For a split second, his expression was unreadable, but then a flicker of something softer crossed his features. He set the broom aside with deliberate care, brushing his hands together before straightening up.

“Hey, what’s up?” His voice was calm, though there was a trace of curiosity in his tone, his gaze not leaving you.

You felt your breath hitch, your chest tightening under the weight of his gaze. It was always like this with him, like he could see straight through you, and it made everything feel so much more intense than it should have been. But you couldn’t back down now. You had to say it.

“I-” You started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, gathering your thoughts, then pushed through. “Thank you for the book,” you said, your voice a little steadier this time, though there was still a nervous tremor there. “The new copy of Pride and Prejudice... it’s perfect. You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, his usual indifference creeping back into his demeanor, but there was something in his eyes that softened the action, something that made the air feel warmer between you. “You needed a new one,” he said casually, though there was an unspoken tenderness in his voice. “Your old one was falling apart.”

You nodded, but the words felt heavy now, like they were leading you to something you couldn’t avoid. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken things. You had to say it, even if it terrified you.

“I am no better than the book you gifted me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “At first, I judged you. I listened to what others said, I let their words shape my view of you. But then... you started talking to me about books, like The Great Gatsby, and I knew, even then, that I had feelings for you. I just didn’t know how to say them.”

A slow realization crept across Mattheo’s face, his eyes softening. You could feel the weight of the moment between you, the truth hanging in the air like an open wound.

“I can read as many words as I want,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly, “but it doesn’t mean I know how to say them. I’ve been afraid... because I didn’t know how to tell you how I felt.”

You paused, a lump forming in your throat, the truth finally spilling out in the most vulnerable of ways. "But I do know now. I like you, Mattheo. I like you in a way that no book or quote could explain. It's more than that, and it's terrifying."

He took a small step closer, his expression unreadable for a moment, but then something shifted in his eyes. It was like everything between you clicked into place. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“What made you come out here?” he asked, his voice softer now, filled with curiosity. There was a vulnerability there, something unguarded, and you felt a rush of affection for him, the way he always seemed to make space for your feelings, for your thoughts.

You bit your lip, searching for the right words, but in the end, the only thing you could think to say was simple, and it felt right somehow. “You,” you whispered. “You made me come out here.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. You smiled, stepping a little closer to him. “You can’t just sit in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes,” you said, quoting the words from Winnie the Pooh that had always stuck with you. They felt like the right words now, even if they were odd in the moment. You weren’t sure why you said it, but it felt true.

Mattheo stood still for a long moment, blinking slowly, as though your words were taking time to sink in. Then, to your surprise, he laughed-a soft, genuine laugh that rang out through the otherwise quiet room. It was like a weight lifting off your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“You’re quoting that yellow bear right now?” he asked, his eyes wide with amusement, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. “You really went there?”

You nodded, fighting the urge to laugh yourself. “He’s very wise,” you said seriously, meeting his playful gaze, the mischievous glint in your eyes betraying your words.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re something else,” he murmured, and before you could reply, his hand was at your back, gently pulling you closer. You didn’t resist; in fact, you leaned into the touch, feeling the heat of him radiate through you. It was a natural pull, an unspoken invitation to let go of everything you’d been holding onto.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the air thick with the closeness that had always been there but never fully acknowledged until now. The walls between you both felt like they were crumbling, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but honesty, raw and real.

And then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, gentle at first, as if he were waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence as he kissed you, the feeling of his lips against yours sending a wave of relief through your chest. The kiss deepened, and for the first time, it felt like everything you had been hiding inside was finally coming to the surface.

When he pulled back, both of you were breathless, and there was an understanding between you now-something unspoken but real.

You leaned against him, your forehead resting gently against his. “You don’t have to read for me, Mattheo,” you whispered, your voice soft, but full of meaning. “If you don’t want to.”

Mattheo smiled, his eyes filled with something that made your heart race. “I’ll write a whole book for you,” he said with a quiet intensity, his voice steady and sure. “Anything you want. A story just for you.”

Your smile widened, your heart swelling with emotion at his words. It wasn’t just a promise, it was everything he had been too afraid to say until now, everything you had needed to hear. And in that moment, you realized that this was just the beginning.

The beginning of something honest and true, something you both would write together, one page at a time.