Hidden Strengths

Hidden strengths

Feeling hurt after being called weak, you make it your mission to prove them wrong only to get hurt in the process. Mattheo luckily knows just how to comfort you and squash the insecurity once and for all. Find the request here! @slytherinslut0 hope you enjoy it pookie! <3 Again seem to kind be incapable of writing something short for requests, enjoy a little angst but mostly fluff in 1.8k. There is a few instances of y/n.

“Please, Y/n has the strength of an ant she’d lose in a fight against a bow truckle.” A chorus of hysterical laughs fill the corner occupied by a bunch of Slytherin males. “My moneys on the twig!” Someone else pipes up, adding their two cents, earning another round of snickers, the sound stinging your heart. 

Weak. Fragile. Frail. The hurtful jabs aimed at your lack of strength, impairs deeply, wrecking your heart like a broken ship. Your absence of physical strength had always bothered you, a scared insecurity that was rooted deep in the family. Both your mother and hers were women of weaker stature, not one for sports lacking the coordination and stamina to keep interest in one. 

The comments had irritated you more than you were proud of, spreading through your mind like a disease for the rest of the day. They festered, growing like a tumor, reaching a point where you felt aggressively determined to prove you were strong, to them or at least yourself. You gathered a list of activities you could take part in to show your strength, which became easily discarded when the most brilliant idea sparked you. 

Who's tougher than a beater? The violent position on the Quidditch team whose job was to defend players from the nasty, powerful and wildly reckless bludgers. Using strength to direct with a blast of force towards the opposition, and there was only one person you wanted to approach. 

Mattheo was easy to spot, his broad shoulders slouched slightly in his meander down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, his face resonating deep in thought. Making a beeline to catch up to him, your walk turns into a brisk run with determined energy, and you move around in front of him, alerting him of your presence. His eyes flicker up at the sudden obstacle in his path, his eyes lighting up at your company. 

“Mattheo, I need you to teach me to hit a bludger.” The words spit out straight to the point, before he can even greet you, your eyes flickering eagerly watching for his reaction. 

His casual expression contorts with a wrinkle of his brows and he takes in your request, adjusting the way his bag sits on his shoulder. “Ah what?”

“I said I need-”

“I heard what you said.” He raises a hand, interjecting the repetition while he looks you over, expecting to be revealed that you’re pulling his leg. But all he’s met with is an adorable but driven look that has his brows arching in curiosity and intrigue. “What..like right now?” 

You nod. 

He huffs out a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair in thought. “Alright, come on then.”

He doesn’t bother asking you why the sudden interest in the violent sport, observing how your usual carefree manner is replaced by a look of utter determination. He makes small talk, an edge of excitement slipping out, happy to just be spending time with you and discussing the intricacies of being a beater. He explains how a bludger works, saving time so the two of you can jump straight into the goal at hand. 

“Clearly you need a level of strength to strike a bludger with coordination, hence why I'm a clear candidate.” He jokes flexing a muscle, enjoying how your focus gets distracted and lingers on his biceps, constricting against his shirt. “But it also takes fast reflexes, a keen eye, and you need a good sense of balance.” His eyes flicker down to you, making sure you’re back to paying attention to the importance of his words. He gives a smile when you nod in understanding. 

Once on the pitch, he discards his bag and grabs the case, withholding the Quidditch balls carrying it with ease a few meters into the middle of the field. He crouches, lifting the box up, grabbing out two bats, handing you one while placing his one on the ground. The reality of what is about to happen tickles his conscience and a moment of doubt flickers, he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks his voice held with concern questioning, still crouched down in front of the box.

You nod firmly, needing him to get on with it and release the bludger already before you chicken out. “Yeah, do it.”

He finds your determined tone adorable and a hint of pride flushes in him as he nods, flicking the latch and releasing it from its case. He stands moving back quickly as the sound of a low pitched buzzing whirls by him; the bludger flying out of its hold and up into the air. He grasps a bat and pushes gently on your arm to keep you at a safe distance while he prepares to explain the technique.

“Right, so it’s coming back now. Make sure you grip the bat firmly and prepare to swing at the last second.” His voice drops off as the bludger locks targeting on you and Mattheo, and he propels his arm forward with a force that echoes a loud whack across the field at first contact.   

He grins, watching how the bludger accelerators away, loving the adrenaline the violent sport brings him. “Alright alright, it’s coming back. You think you’re ready?” He’s speaking quickly but clearly, needing confirmation you're prepared as well as himself to remain focused in case he has to jump in.

Watching how easily Mattheo could bat the bludger away has you gripping the bat harder in anxiety, questioning your ability in yourself, realizing you may be a way in over your head. But you’re still determined, driven by the need to prove yourself. Nodding you replicate the positioning Mattheo had shown, sweaty hands grip the bat and your eyes stay trained on the rapid blasting bludger that's now redirected back towards the ground.

With a desired concentration, you swing with two hands and all your might at the whizzing bludger; the bat connecting, smashing it high away from the two of you. Mattheo’s yell of excitement regains your focus, “Atta girl!!” 

The look of pure pride illuminates his face with a shit-eating grin that sends a flurry of vibrating flutters to your chest. The satisfaction that ruptures through you makes you drop the bat in overjoyed enthusiasm, becoming giddy that you had done it. 

He watches the pure delight overtaking your body and distracts him from the shooting bludger boomeranging back. The powerful iron ball whirls at light speed and crashes, colliding hard against your arm. There's a loud snap and you wail upon impact. Mattheo’s eyes widen at your cry of pain and he seizes his wand quickly. “Immobulus!” 

The bludger falls to the ground with a thud and he moves towards you, panicked, “Shit. Shit, shit c’mere.” He’s cursing himself with guilt for being distracted by your cute reaction, now crouching down beside you, assessing your limp arm. “Fuck, that’s definitely broken. Come on, we gotta get you to the infirmary.” Your earlier triumph is washed away with the continued tears that spill, Mattheo’s arm around your waist hurriedly helping walk you to the medical wing. 

After the small fussing from Poppy skeptically scrutinising Mattheo as he defensively explains it was a bludger that injured you and not himself. She relaxes, muttering a small note of approval that he brought you straight here, wisely aware that he deals with his own injuries alone. 

Skillfully, she casts Brackium Emendo, a healing incantation that, if done incorrectly, can cause the backfiring of removing bones. She instructs you to wait the mandatory twenty minutes before you can be dismissed. Mattheo’s frantic, guilt-ridden apologies fill time up till you’re able to shut him up with forgiveness, and the space falls quiet between you two. 

“So, you gonna tell me what this is really about, then?” Mattheo speaks again, addressing the elephant, sensing your sudden shame and defeat. He’s feeling grateful that you’re all fixed up and you’ve stopped crying, though his heart aches in guilt for his getting you hurt.

Sighing with embarrassment, your head drops mumbling, “I wanted to be strong for a day.” The insecurity stays planted despite having actually achieved your goal. Though you no longer felt proud, it had taken all your might and in the end you had still got hurt and cried, and it had made you feel weaker.

Mattheo barely catches your words and pulls in a face of confusion. “Strong?” It's clear he doesn’t understand your predicament. You may not have been physically the strongest person he knew, but you were strong to him in many other ways. “What's going on? Y/n.” He reaches out to comfort you, angling your chin up to meet his eye. 

“I’m sick of being weak. I overheard people making jokes about how fragile I am.” Your voice is strained trying to keep your tears back as you admit the truth to Mattheo. His brown eyes display a hue of warmth that encourages you. 

His expression turns sour at your words. “Who the fuck said that?” His grip on your chin tightens. “Cuz it's bullshit y/n. You’re immensely strong.” 

You pull your face away from his grip, not believing him. “You’re lying.” 

He moves his body around the bed, positioning his face so you can’t ignore him, speaking with a softer tone. “Hey hey, I'm not. Not all strength is physical. Have you seen your brain, the shit you come up with for assignments? You’re determined as hell. Look at you today! You handle that with resilience, took on the challenge, and you succeeded”

He reaches out and grabs your hand this time, startling you by the confident comfort. He can feel his heart racing as he keeps talking. “I was so proud, you smashed that bludger.” He watches a smile creep on your face and he mirrors it. “And I know right at your heart, it's as strong as a deeply rooted tree. Even if you get knocked down, you’ll always regrow and build yourself up even stronger.” He squeezes your hand. “It's one of the reasons I like you.”

Your head snaps up, comprehending his admission. “You like me?” 

Mattheo stands up and makes himself comfortable on the bed beside you, “course I do, and your lack of physical strength has never bothered me. I like all the qualities you already have.” 

Your heart swells, the insecurity shrinking smaller to the size of a speck under the weight of Mattheo’s comfort and care. With quick thinking you launch forwards, squeezing him into a tight hug enthralling a hearty chuckle from himself. He reciprocates, throwing his arm over your shoulder and snuggling you tightly into his side, “does- uh this mean you like me too?” There's a hint of nervousness in his tone, a creeping fear you don't feel the same. 

A shit-eating grin of your own appears, lighting up your face as you nod. “Yeah yeah I do.” Snuggling into his side at the reality of what's occurred, and how a simple mistake has led to something wonderful. 

“Oh thank fuck..” He lets out a sigh of relief, his hand caressing your arm in gentle motions. “I'm so glad, and I don't want you getting hurt again...So maybe just stay in the quidditch stands from now on though, yeah.” 

Pizza's Deliveries | Pizza's 1k | General Masterlist

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

The Stupid Closet (19)

Happy Sunday release day everyone! This is personally one of my favorite chapters, the drama and spiciness is top notch ;)

enjoy!

-----------

The next week of classes was super busy, stressing you out quite a lot. You hadn’t been able to spend much time with Mattheo, or anyone for that matter.

You and Draco had spent time together but it had been studying. You had midterms coming up next week and both of you were gunning for top of the class along with Hermione. Thankfully, you had a chance to relax this weekend and enjoy the Halloween party. You showered, shaving every part of your body in the process before getting ready, taking up a big chunk of time.

Hogwarts didn’t do a costume party, but slytherin always threw the best rager after the Halloween feast in the great hall. Everybody who was anybody knew about it and it was the best kept secret from the professors, even the ghosts were in on it.

You pulled on a black long sleeve bodycon dress that had a low scoop neckline before putting on strappy, open-toed black high heels.

Your naturally wavy hair was almost dry, leaving it silky and full. 

You apply mascara and a smokey eyeshadow look before grabbing dark red lipstick. You lean over the counter to apply it before hearing a voice.

“Wow, what a view.” You turn around to see Mattheo standing in the door frame with his hands in his pants pockets, a smirk plastered on his face.

You looked him up and down as he did the same with you. He was wearing black dress slacks and a white button down, the top few buttons undone. His hair was perfectly curled, as always.

“Holy shit” you mutter quietly.

“Are you sure you want to go to this thing? We could just stay here and I can get you out of that dress a lot sooner.” He walks forward and wraps his arms around you, landing his hands on your ass.

“Not so fast Mr. Riddle. Even though it’s tempting, I love going to this party.” You coo.

Halloween was your favorite holiday and you hadn’t missed a single one of these parties. You definitely weren’t going to miss your last one.

“God you’re so beautiful.” He replies, staring at your lips, clearly hungry for you.

“You don’t mind me wearing this?” You ask, looking down at your dress and back up.

The shape of the dress revealed all of your curves and the hem was quite short both on the chest and the legs, Theo would’ve minded.

“Nah I can fight. Nobody is going to touch my girl except me.” Mattheo responds, smirking.

“Hmm…” you trail off for a second, “I’m gonna make you work for it tonight.”

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows, “we’re playing that game tonight?”

“Yup.” And you back away from him, heading to the door, “and if you win…you can do anything you want” you emphasize.

“Anything?” He asks, starting to follow you.

“Anything.” You blow a kiss as you walk out the door, “see you at the party.”

You walk down to the party and head for the drink table, pouring yourself some vodka as Mattheo comes up and makes his own just a foot over.

He watches you, which you are very aware of as you slowly take a sip.

Draco walks up to you and starts to pour his own drink, “what’s happening here?”

You turn to him, “just a little fun. Wanna play along?”

“Will I end up in a ditch that Mattheo put me in?” Draco asks.

“Possibly but it’ll be so fun.” You reply, smirking, obviously being mischievous.

“Alright, come on.” Draco grabs your cup and puts both of them down on the table before leading you over to a group of slytherin boys.

You knew almost all of them, Blaise present in this group as well, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to make Mattheo jealous and really earn it.

You engage in their conversation, Mattheo watching from across the room. He stood alone, his head bending downwards as he sips from his cup randomly. 

“Is it working?” Draco asks subtly, you look over and see Mattheo staring a hole through you, watching your every move. 

“Yes. Follow me?” You say before the two of you walk back over to the drink table.

You take a shot before slowly wiping around your lip, watching Mattheo in your peripheral vision.

You could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer, he was ready to pounce.

A ravenclaw guy, who you didn’t know, came up beside you, “hey how’re you doing sexy?”

“Oh god.” Draco speaks up from across the table, about to laugh.

“Yeah you might not want to do that…go away” You respond simply. The ravenclaw looks shocked but walks away without another word.

“That was quite the entertainment.” Draco chuckles. You continue to make your drink until you go to look up at Draco but instead see something happening across the room.

Melanie. Melanie Zorra, the girl that Mattheo slept with while trying to stay away from you. She was all over him.

Despite his best efforts to push her away and send a message, she wouldn’t stop touching him. Throwing herself on him, it was honestly embarrassing. You watch them intently, not looking away.

Draco notices your gaze and follows it over to them, “oh shit.”

“What is she doing here?” You ask flatly.

“I don’t know who invited her…” Draco adds, knowing exactly how you were feeling.

You were about to walk over there before he whispers something in her ear. After he backs away, she walks away without another word.

“Ok, screw it.” You say picking up your drink and going over to Mattheo.

“What was that about?” You ask.

“Oh, are we jealous? Does that mean I win?” He smirks.

“Mattheo.” You say seriously, not acknowledging the competition you had going on.

“I told her to beat it. I said that she was a fling and I didn’t want her nor do I care about her.” Mattheo explains quietly.

“I didn’t like her touching you.” You say flatly.

“Baby, come on. She is not a threat, you know that.”

“I know.” You look up at him, staring into his eyes, “I saw you staring at me earlier.”

“Around those guys? Please, I have nothing to worry about.” Mattheo says.

“Exactly.” 

“Are you ready to leave now? I think we’ve had enough.”

“Maybe you have but I haven’t” you lie. You lean into his ear and whisper, “jealous sex is the best sex after all.”

You back away smirking before heading towards Pansy and her group. You hadn’t been interested in the gossip before now but maybe it would drive Mattheo crazy that you were passing on him for this.

“Daphne, I think Blaise likes you! He always gets so flustered around you I swear.” 

“And that isn’t Blaise. He never gets flustered.” You speak up.

“Oh look who’s joining us.” A gryffindor says, as none other than Melanie walks up and sits down across from you. “Mel, I saw you with Mattheo earlier, are you back together?”

You listen quietly, trying not to get involved. You wanted to win the jealousy game.

“Oh well I wouldn’t say that but…he totally has feelings for me.” Melanie claims.

“Really? I knew he looked happier lately!”  the gryffindor responds. Pansy glances over to you, clearly waiting for your response to the lie.

“He was just telling me that he wanted to have sex right here, right in front of everyone.” Melanie adds.

You chuckle, “he has more tact than that bimbo.”

“What?” She asks, noticing you.

“You heard me.” You say, setting your drink down on the table, “Mattheo wouldn’t want to have sex in the middle of a party, let alone with you. He’s more private than that. If you knew him at all, you wouldn’t have told that lie because anyone who does know him, knows it’s not true.”

“Do you have a problem with me?” Melanie asks.

“Actually I do.” You respond, sitting up straighter.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later. I don’t need to hear this.” Melanie says before standing up and walking away.

You follow her, “Hey I wasn’t done with you.”

She stops in the middle of the party and turns around to face you, “did you know that I was the one who was there when he couldn’t stop crying over you? I was the one who he took to bed at night while you were with his “best friend”. Remember that? He will never forget that and when it hits him, he’ll be back to me.”

“Alright that’s it.” You walk up and right hook her, punching her on the nose.

Draco and Mattheo come up and hold you back, “say that again bitch!” You yell as they keep you away from her.

She holds her nose, it bleeding profusely down her face. A couple gryffindors come over and help her up.

“You’re crazy!” She says as she starts crying.

“You’re so fucking lucky.” You say, backing away, twisting yourself out of Mattheo and Draco’s grasp. 

You were livid as you stood there, taking deep breaths, trying to regain your composure.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @swamp-box @iamdnb

White Lie

PART FIVE

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

summary - After accidentally telling your mom you have a new boyfriend, you have to resort to your last option and ask your old friend turned enemy for help.

warnings - fake dating trope

wordcount - 3.1k

series masterlist

The chaos of Halloween weekend was already in full swing when your phone buzzed with an unexpected text from Enzo. You were sitting in your dorm room, lazily scrolling through social media when the screen lit up with his message.

Enzo: My parents just showed up for my game. Staying the whole weekend. We need to keep up the act. You gotta put some of your stuff in my place to make it look real.

Your stomach dropped. His parents had unexpectedly come to town? For the entire weekend? That meant you had to pretend to be dating Enzo at university too, not just in front of family back home. And it was the worst timing—between classes, Halloween parties, and Enzo’s first big soccer game of the season, there was already enough on your plate. Now you had to dive into this charade all over again.

You: You're kidding, right? This weekend?!

Enzo: Trust me, I didn’t want this either. Just need you to make it look like you’ve been staying over at mine a lot. Blaise is there, I told him you’re coming.

With a groan, you tossed your phone onto the bed, wondering how the universe could be this cruel. You and Enzo had kept up the fake dating act so far, successfully fooling both your families—but faking it here, around your friends and classmates? That felt a lot more daunting.

But there was no way out of it now. His parents were here, and if you didn’t step up, they’d see right through the ruse. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed a bag and began stuffing in things that would sell the illusion: some clothes, your toothbrush, a few books, and a bottle of shampoo and conditioner.

As you zipped up the bag, your mind raced. This was going to be tricky. You and Enzo had been keeping your distance on campus, careful not to raise any eyebrows among your friends. No one knew about your fake relationship—hell, no one even suspected you two were close enough to be hanging out, let alone dating.

You grabbed your phone again to text Enzo.

You: How are we gonna pull this off? No one here knows about this, right?

Enzo: We’ll deal with it. Just get to my place and set up. I’m keeping them busy for now.

With a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way across campus to Enzo’s apartment. The streets were buzzing with pre-Halloween energy, students milling about in early costumes, the excitement in the air palpable. Under different circumstances, you'd be planning your own night out with friends, maybe a costume party or a haunted house run. But now? Now you were heading into full-on damage control.

When you reached Enzo’s building, his roommate Blaise opened the door almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for you.

“Well, well, well,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “The girlfriend has arrived.”

You rolled your eyes, walking past him into the living room. Maybe Enzo had told his friends after all, figures. "Don’t start. I’m just trying to make it through this weekend without Enzo’s parents figuring out we’re faking it."

Blaise chuckled, clearly entertained by the situation. “Honestly, I don’t know how you guys are pulling this off. But hey, I’m here to help. What do you need?”

You took a deep breath, glancing around the apartment. It was neat—too neat when you considered only two guys lived here. “I just need to scatter a few of my things around. Make it look like I’m here all the time.”

Blaise nodded, already moving to help. Together, you placed your toothbrush in the bathroom, set a pair of shoes by the door, and left some of your clothes in Enzo’s closet, tucked among his own. As you arranged a couple of your books on his coffee table, Blaise looked over at you, curiosity clear in his expression.

“So... how did you and Enzo even get into this mess?” he asked, tossing one of your sweaters over the back of the couch.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to share. Blaise seemed chill, but he was still Enzo’s best friend—someone who might tease him about this later. “Long story short, our moms always thought we should date, and he was my best option to get out of my mom setting me up with someone else. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, just a little act for family gatherings.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but now you’re here. At uni. Pretending to be in love. This is next-level commitment, you know that, right?”

You sighed, slumping onto the couch. "Trust me, I didn’t sign up for this. I thought it would just be the holidays. But his parents just showed up."

“Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” Blaise said, settling into the armchair across from you. “And hey, if it makes you feel any better, from what he’s told me you’re actually selling it pretty well.”

Before you could respond, the front door swung open, and in walked Enzo with his parents trailing behind him. You and Blaise exchanged a quick glance—this was it. Showtime.

Michelle, Enzo’s mom, spotted you immediately and smiled brightly. “Y/n! So good to see you again, dear.”

“Hi,” you said, standing to greet her, the fake girlfriend act snapping into place as easily as slipping on a mask. “What a surprise! I didn’t know you guys were coming.”

Michelle beamed as she stepped forward, pulling you into a warm hug. “Neither did Enzo, the poor thing. We just couldn’t miss his first big game of the season, you know?”

Enzo, standing by the door with his hands shoved into his pockets, shot you a look that said play along. You gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile before turning back to his mom.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you said, forcing enthusiasm into your voice. “Enzo’s been working really hard this season.”

Frank, Enzo’s dad, joined in with a hearty chuckle. “Hard work pays off, right, son?”

Enzo nodded, stepping further into the room. “Yeah, Dad. Just hoping to put on a good show tomorrow.”

It wasn’t long before small talk filled the space. You and Blaise stayed on the sidelines for most of it, while Enzo’s parents showered him with attention, asking about soccer, his classes, and whether he was eating well enough. Michelle’s eyes wandered the room every now and then, landing on small details—your shoes by the door, the books on the coffee table. Every time her gaze flicked to something of yours, you felt a spike of nervousness.

Blaise must’ve noticed too because he leaned over and whispered, “You’re doing fine. Chill.”

You gave him a quick, appreciative nod, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend was going to be tough.

Eventually, talk turned to dinner, and Michelle insisted on taking all of you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate the start of the weekend. Dinner went smoother than you expected, though it was clear that Enzo’s parents were all-in on the idea of you two as a couple. Michelle kept referring to the two of you as “adorable” and even asked if you wanted to sit with them at the game the next day.

After dinner, you and Enzo walked Michelle and Frank back to their hotel. The crisp night air felt refreshing after the stuffy restaurant, and the Halloween decorations lining the streets added a festive touch to the evening. 

When you reached the hotel, Michelle pulled you into another warm hug. “Thank you so much for joining us tonight. It’s been lovely to have you with us.”

You smiled, trying to mask your exhaustion. “It was great to see you both. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

As Michelle and Frank entered the hotel, Enzo turned to you, a hint of a grin on his face. “Well, that went better than I expected. Ready for the game tomorrow?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t know if ‘ready’ is the right word. I’m just trying to survive this weekend.”

Enzo chuckled, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “I know what you mean. Let’s get you back to your dorm.”

The walk to your dorm was quieter, a comfortable silence settling between you two. The Halloween lights and decorations provided a whimsical backdrop as you navigated the campus paths. Enzo seemed lost in thought, his earlier tension easing into a more relaxed demeanor.

When you reached your dorm, Enzo stopped in front of the building, a thoughtful look on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need anything, just text me.”

“Will do,” you said, trying to keep the mood light. 

Enzo gave you a genuine smile. “Goodnight.”

You watched him walk away before heading inside. As you climbed the stairs to your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the evening’s weight settling on you. But you had to push it aside; tomorrow was the big game, and you had to be ready.

ੈ♡˳

The next morning dawned chilly and bright, a perfect day for soccer. The campus was abuzz with Halloween festivities, but you were focused on the game. You put on your warmest jacket, grabbed a coffee from the campus café, and made your way to the stadium.

When you arrived, the stands were already filling up with enthusiastic fans. You spotted Michelle and Frank waving from their seats and gave them a quick wave back before making your way up to where they were sitting.

As the game began, you found yourself caught up in the excitement of the crowd and the intensity of the match. Enzo played with impressive skill and determination, his every move drawing cheers from the audience. You cheered along with the crowd, dutifully playing the supportive girlfriend, your earlier nerves melting away in the face of the game’s energy.

During a brief halftime break, you jumped down from the bleachers to meet Enzo as he ran up to the stands, a look of satisfaction on his face. “How’s it going?” he asked, joining you.

“Great! You’re playing really well,” you said, smiling at him. “Your parents are really excited.”

“Yeah, they are,” Enzo replied, glancing toward them. “You seemed pretty excited too. Sure you don’t wanna join the fanclub? You’ve been cheering louder than they have.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, nudging him playfully. “Just playing my part.”

The game resumed, and the energy in the stadium remained electric. Enzo's team played with renewed vigor, and as the final whistle blew, they celebrated a well-deserved victory. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and you joined in, clapping and cheering with genuine enthusiasm.

As the players began to make their way off the field, you spotted Michelle and Frank weaving through the crowd to meet Enzo. They were all smiles, clearly thrilled with the outcome. Enzo's eyes searched for you in the crowd, and when he saw you, he made his way over, his face alight with excitement.

"Great game!" you shouted as he approached. "Your parents are really proud."

Enzo grinned, his happiness palpable. "Thanks! They’re probably already making plans to celebrate."

Michelle and Frank soon joined you, and Michelle wasted no time in wrapping Enzo in a hug. "That was amazing, sweetheart! We’re so proud of you."

Frank clapped Enzo on the back. “Yeah, you really showed them what you’re made of. Now, how about a little more celebrating?”

Enzo looked at you, a playful glint in his eyes. Your stomach churned.

Michelle was quick to jump in. “We were thinking of heading to the Halloween fair in town. It’s got everything—rides, games, and a haunted house. Why don’t you both join us? It’ll be fun!”

You exchanged a glance with Enzo. “Sounds like a plan,” he said with a grin. “You up for it?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sure, why not?”

The fair was bustling with activity when you arrived. The air was filled with the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, and the sounds of carnival games and laughter created a lively backdrop. Michelle and Frank led the way, weaving through the crowd with excitement.

As the evening went on, you found yourself enjoying the fair’s festive atmosphere. You played a few games with Michelle, tried your hand at winning a prize, and even sampled some of the treats. Enzo stayed close, making sure to always keep his hand on the small of your back or an arm slung around your shoulders when his parents were nearby.

When the haunted house came into view, Michelle’s eyes lit up. “Let’s do it!” she said, dragging Frank along. “It’ll be a blast.”

Enzo looked at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “You sure you’re up for this? Haunted houses aren’t exactly your thing, right?”

You laughed nervously, lightly slapping his arm. “I cried one time like 10 years ago.”

The line to the haunted house was long, but it gave you time to mentally prepare. When it was finally your turn, you walked through the entrance, and the darkness enveloped you. The occasional screams and eerie sounds from inside only heightened the suspense.

As you ventured deeper into the haunted house, the scares became more intense. At one particularly terrifying moment, a loud bang and sudden movement made you jump, and you instinctively grabbed Enzo’s arm. He seemed to notice how frightened you were and leaned closer, his voice a comforting whisper amidst the chaos.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s all just for fun,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m right here.”

You squeezed his arm tighter, trying to steady your breathing. “I know. It’s just—sorry.”

Enzo chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m pretty scared too. Just better at hiding it.”

You didn’t believe him, but you guessed it was nice that he tried. As you rounded a corner, another loud noise made you jump, and this time, you ended up pressed closely against Enzo. He seemed to notice how close you were and shifted slightly, but his arm remained around you.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “your eyes are really pretty up close.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. In the dim, flickering light of the haunted house, his eyes looked warm and sincere. The moment was oddly intimate, and you found yourself looking up at him, your heart racing for reasons beyond the scare.

Before you could respond, another person in a scary mask popped out from the darkness with a scream, and you instinctively buried your face in his shoulder, letting out a small yelp. His arm tightened around you, and you could feel his laughter vibrating against your side.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice steady. “We’re almost through.”

Eventually, you made it to the end of the haunted house, and the lights of the fair were a welcome sight. You pulled away from Enzo, feeling both relieved and slightly disoriented.

Michelle and Frank were waiting for you, and Michelle grinned. “How was that?”

You gave her a shaky smile. “It was something, that’s for sure.”

Enzo looked at you, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Maybe we should stick to the games? I was promised you’d win something for me.”

You laughed, nodding. “Yes, definitely.”

Chapter Six

Thanksgiving arrived with a crispness in the air that hinted at the winter ahead. The day was clear and bright, a perfect backdrop for the holiday festivities. The anticipation of spending Thanksgiving with both Enzo's and your families had you feeling unexpectedly buoyant. The families had always celebrated together, and this year was no different, except for the added layer of pretending to be a couple.

As you pulled into Enzo’s parents’ driveway, the familiar sight of the house, decorated with festive fall decorations and glowing lights, brought a sense of nostalgia. For some reason, it felt weird arriving without him by your side now. But he had decided to drive home a couple days early to help his parents with the preparations. The smell of roasting turkey and pumpkin pie wafted through the open windows as you walked up to the door.

Michelle opened it with a beaming smile, pulling you into a warm hug. “Y/n! So glad you could make it. We’ve missed you.”

You returned her embrace, feeling a genuine warmth. “I’m happy to be here. Everything looks wonderful.”

Michelle ushered you inside, where the cozy ambiance of the house, combined with the cheerful chatter of the combined families, immediately set a comforting tone. Enzo’s dad was busy in the kitchen, and as you entered, you were greeted by your own parents.

“There you are!” your mom exclaimed, crossing the room to hug you. “Late as always. I was starting to think you’re ditching us.”

“Hi, Mom,” you said, smiling warmly. 

After the initial greetings, you joined Enzo in helping with the last-minute preparations. As you worked side by side in the kitchen, he glanced over at you. “Feeling ready for the family fun?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The dinner table was a feast of traditional Thanksgiving dishes, and as everyone gathered around, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Both families seemed genuinely thrilled to be together, and even your sister seemed to be taking a break from being all up in your bussiness.

During dinner, Enzo made sure to keep you close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours under the table. The ease with which you interacted felt natural, almost too natural. 

After dinner, the group retired to the living room for dessert and games. You found yourself genuinely enjoying the evening, from the slices of pie to the friendly competition in charades. Enzo was as charming as ever, but you found yourself appreciating him in a new way—his laughter, his warmth, and the way he made everyone feel at ease.

As the night wore on, you and Enzo took a quiet moment on the porch. The crisp night air was refreshing, and the stars overhead seemed to twinkle with a particular brightness. You leaned against the railing, savoring the tranquility after the lively evening.

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Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

just friends | m.r. x reader

prompt: Can you do a Mattheo riddle friends to lovers. And Draco asks you out then Mattheo gets jealous and him and Draco have a fight and you help clean all his cuts and stuff? If you can’t that’s fine though ❤️

warnings: mentions of blood, angst, fluff

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: i forgot about the requests i had saved in my google doc so here's one sorry guys.

People thought you and Mattheo being best friends was odd at first. Upon first meeting, people assumed you were quiet and sweet and slow to anger. However when a girl tried to push you around in second year and you landed a hard right hook to her nose, people stopped questioning your friendship and started questioning when you guys were going to start dating. 

You both often played those comments off, saying you were best friends nothing more. Not knowing the other was desperate for the change in relationship status. 

So when Draco asked you to Hogsmead one weekend, you didn’t really have a reason to say no. However when Mattheo found out, he had a less than pleasant response. 

“Are you seriously going with him?” Mattheo was ripping pieces of parchment and throwing them in the fire. You laid across the couch, handing him a new sheet of parchment when he’d finish the other. 

“It’s just Hogsmead, Teo. I’m not betrothed to your cousin,” you tried to sound nonchalant about the whole thing. Mattheo was grumbling in response. 

You sat up on your elbows, “What was that?” Mattheo shook his head, standing up from the floor, “Nothing. Have fun with cousin, tomorrow. Can’t wait to hear all about it.” 

He walked off towards the hall, sounding very much like a stomping toddler and not like he was excited to hear about how your date went tomorrow afternoon. You huffed out an annoyed sigh, deciding to head back to your own dorm. Pansy was sitting atop her bed when you came in and slammed the door behind you. 

“Care to tell the doctor why you’re so peeved?” Pansy sat up at the head of her bed. You groaned, flopping yourself face first on her mattress, mumbling into her duvet. “Come again, dear?” 

You rolled over, staring at the top of her four poster, “Mattheo is being an arsehole.” Pansy couldn’t help but snort, “Tell me something new, Y/n/n.” You groaned again, “He’s never an arse to me, like never ever. Not like he just was. I don’t know what his problem is. Shouldn’t he be happy that my date is at least with someone he knows and likes? I could’ve had a date with Diggory, or even,” you faked a gag, “Potter.” 

Pansy couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from her throat, “I think you’re reaction alone let’s everyone know that the latter would never be an option.” You smiled weakly at her, “Yeah, suppose you’re right.” You sat up now, tucking your feet under you, “I just don’t get what the big deal is. He’s adamant that he and I are just friends, so why get mad when I finally get a date?” 

Pansy looked at you dumbfounded, “Y/n/n, please tell me you’re not that daft.” Your jaw dropped slightly, “What do you mean?” It was Pansy’s turn to groan, “If you can’t see it, I’m not telling you. You’re just going to have to pay more attention.”

You sighed out in annoyance, getting up from her bed and changing into your pyjamas. Pansy dropped the subject, as did you. You laid your head down on your pillow, doing your best to get Mattheo’s judgemental tone out of your mind, which only caused your dreams to be filled with him. 

Your trip to Hogsmead was actually really nice. Draco was a complete gentleman, helping you into and out of the carriage, holding the doors open for you, buying your favorite candies, even buying your lunch and butter beer. 

On the ride back in the carriage, you thanked Draco for a lovely afternoon. He smiled shyly, “Of course, Y/n/n. A beautiful girl like you deserves to be given all the attention and doted on dutifully.” You smiled bashfully, “You’re very kind, Draco.” Draco reached for your hand as you stepped out of the carriage at the doors of the castle. 

You took it, thanking him again as you stepped back to the ground. You opened your mouth to say something when suddenly Draco was ripped from in front of you. You took a shocked step back, trying to focus on the two bodies rolling around on the ground when you noticed it was Mattheo that attacked him. 

Draco and Mattheo were landing blows back and forth. While Mattheo was a few months younger, he was larger, muscular wise than Draco. You worried a bit for Draco, but when he landed an elbow in Mattheo’s ribs, causing him to roll off Draco, the blonde boy stood, walking toward you. 

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Draco cut you off, wiping the blood from his bottom lip, “You two need to sort whatever the fuck you are.” He turned back to look at Mattheo getting up from the ground before turning back to you, “I suggest you take him back to your dorm and clean him up. Have a fucking conversation.” 

You looked back toward Mattheo, who was now looking at the ground. You walked over, grabbing his wrist, “C’mon, Teo. I’ll clean you up.” The walk back to your dorm was silent sans for the sound of both your boots on the corridor floors. When you got to your dorm you led him to the edge of your bed, motioning for him to sit while you got some supplies from the ensuite bathroom. 

When you came back, you opened the first aid kit, grabbing some gauze and soaking it in healing potion. You dabbed the gauze on the bridge of his nose where a fresh cut was now open. Mattheo winced away, “Fucking Salazars dick, Y/n/n, that fucking burns!” 

You grabbed hold of his chin, turning his face toward you again, “Well I wouldn’t even have to do this if you didn’t mindlessly attack Draco. What was that, Teo?” Mattheo avoided your eyes, looking off to the side. 

Your fingers gave his cheeks a gentle squeeze before dabbing his nose again, he winced slightly before meeting your eyes, “You shouldn’t have gone to Hogsmead with him.” You watched as the potion closed the cut on his nose, a pink scar now taking its place. 

You grabbed one of his hands, holding your wand above it, “And why’s that?” Mattheo watched as you waved your wand, quietly muttering a healing spell that closed the cuts over his knuckles leading to fresh scars being formed there, “Because you should have gone with me.” 

Golden brown eyes met yours when you finally looked up, “Teo, we’ve gone to Hogsmead together a bunch of times. Why was this one any different.” Mattheo shook his head, “No, y/n/n, you’re…ugh, you’re not getting it. I don’t want to go with you as your friend. I-I kind of…fancy you.” 

You couldn’t help it when your eyes widened a bit, a small small forming on your face, “You kind of fancy me?” You saw Mattheo’s shoulders physically relax, a smile forming on his lips, “Okay, I really fancy you.” 

You set your wand down on the nightstand before taking a step closer to Mattheo, now fully nestled in between his open legs. “And how long have you really fancied me, Mr. Riddle?” You played with the collar of his t-shirt. You really did love it when Mattheo dressed more casually, you’ll have to tell him. 

Mattheo was feeling more confident now, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs, "Are you gonna hit me if I say a year?" Your eyebrows shot up, "A year? Mattheo Marvelo are you telling me we could've been dating for a year now but you were to wuss to say anything to me?"

At first he opened his mouth to apologize, but his brain quickly made the connections to what your statement alluded, "Y/n Y/m/n, are you saying that you have also fancied me for the last year?"

It was your turn to act reserved, "I mean...yes?" Mattheo's hands on your thighs gave a quick squeeze, causing your to squeal and grab his wrists.

Mattheo smiled at your giggles, now bringing his hands to either side of your face, "Well, looks like we've got lots to make up for, don't we love."

You nodded your head, closing the gap between the two of you, finally allowing your lips to connect with your best friend you've been pining over for the last year

KINKTOBER #3– SUNKEN AND SPELLBOUND / mattheo riddle

october 7th no smut in this part

part one part two

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo can’t helped but be absolutely entranced when he meets a siren at the black lake. are you luring him in on purpose or is he just obsessed with you?

warnings: siren!reader, tension, no other warnings really, this is just context and build up for the smut in part 2

words: 4.1k

a/n: if this wasn’t for kinktober, i would’ve made it into a full series tbh. also PLEASE watch this video, it heavily inspired this fic and i want you to picture the scene just like this <3

navigation kinktober masterlist

The darkness was palpable. Shadows from the towering trees crept along the edges of the Black Lake as if warning him not to venture too far. The moon hung low, veiled behind wisps of cloud, casting a pale, silver sheen over the still waters. In the center of it all, Mattheo sat alone in a canoe, a single lantern flickering at the bow, its faint glow reflecting off the black water like a shimmering ghost.

He didn’t know what had drawn him here tonight. The Black Lake was no place to linger after dark, not with its depths harboring creatures only whispered about in the corridors of Hogwarts. But something called to him—something unspoken, something that pulled him like an invisible thread until his canoe drifted in the heart of the lake, surrounded by the inky expanse.

That was when he saw you.

At first, it was just a ripple. A disturbance on the otherwise glassy surface, as if the lake itself had shuddered. His eyes sharpened, scanning the water, but there was nothing there. Nothing he could see.

Until there was.

Beneath the surface, just at the edge of his vision, a figure moved. Fluid, graceful, like a shadow cast by the water itself. His heart quickened. He leaned forward, squinting into the depths, but the light from his lantern barely penetrated the water.

And then you rose, your fingers pearlescent and slender as they curled around the edge of his canoe, your skin illuminated in the soft glow. The water slipped off you like silk, your form rising slowly, carefully, until your face emerged from the blackness.

He recognized you at once. Y/N. The quiet girl who sat near the back of the classroom, who rarely spoke and often slipped into the background. But here, in the moonlit silence, you weren’t just a girl anymore. You were something else entirely.

Your eyes glistened like jewels in the dark, reflecting the lantern’s dim light, and your hair clung to your skin, wet and gleaming. He noticed your lips parted, but you said nothing, only staring up at him, as though expecting something.

Mattheo’s breath hitched. What the hell were you doing here? His mind raced. The Black Lake, in the dead of night, in its freezing waters…

His heart pounded, confusion swirling through him. He should have turned back, he should have rowed away, left you there in the cold and silence of the lake. But he couldn’t move. He was stuck, entranced, his eyes locked on yours.

Without a word, you began to sink again, fingers still holding onto the edge of the canoe. Your eyes never left his, even as you descended, your face tilting ever so slightly beneath the surface, lips dipping just below the water’s edge.

No. He couldn’t let you disappear like that. He had too many questions. He just needed to remember how to speak. He leaned forward, his body tilting dangerously, lantern in hand, face following yours, his breath shallow and ragged. He should have stopped. He knew it was reckless. But something about you, something in the stillness of your expression, the way you slipped away like a ghost—he couldn’t let it happen.

Closer. His face hovered over the water, his lips mere inches from where yours had been just moments before. His hand trembled, his fingers clutching the lantern like a lifeline, but still, he leaned further, chasing you as you sank lower and lower.

Then, in an instant, you were gone.

The water rippled where you had been, as if you had never existed at all.

Mattheo’s chest tightened. He blinked, staring into the empty space where you’d vanished. The cold air bit at his skin, his fingers aching from gripping the lantern too hard. His mind whirled.

He’d just witnessed something no one else had. Something no one knew.

Y/N—quiet, kind, reserved Y/N—was a siren.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the water, as if waiting for you to resurface, as if hoping for another glimpse of you in that strange, beautiful, terrifying form. His breath fogged in the night air, his heart pounding in his ears. He should have been scared. He should have been terrified. But despite the fact that he hardly knew you at all, all he could feel was an aching need to see you again.

And he did. Night after night.

Every evening, just before the moon reached its peak, he would return to the lake.

“I know who you are,” he’d called out one night, his voice low, echoing across the lake’s stillness. His words hung in the air, unanswered, as his eyes searched the dark water, desperate for any sign of you. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, each beat punctuated by the endless silence that stretched between them.

For a long time, there was nothing. The lake remained eerily calm, as though it had swallowed every secret and refused to give anything back.

Then, a movement.

Barely there, just beneath the surface, your head lifted. Your eyes—those same, hauntingly beautiful eyes—peeked up at him from the depths, shimmering in the moonlight. You didn’t rise, didn’t reveal yourself fully, but your gaze met his, intense and unblinking.

And in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly, hoping you could hear him when your ears were still beneath the surface.

The air between you crackled with unspoken intensity, a tension he couldn’t explain but didn’t want to escape. You were so close, yet so far—just out of his reach, just beneath the water where no one could follow. Your hair fanned out around you like tendrils of darkness, floating in the cold lake. The way you watched him, unblinking and unreadable, sent a chill down his spine.

But this time, you didn’t run. You stayed.

Mattheo’s breath quickened, the cold air burning in his lungs. He didn’t understand this—whatever this was. The fear he had felt that first night was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous. Curiosity. Hunger.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft lapping of water against the canoe. He wanted to say more, to ask you the questions that burned in his mind—What are you? Why are you here? But all of it felt useless in the face of this moment.

You blinked slowly, your gaze unwavering. Then, as if in response to his voice, you rose just a little higher, your lips barely brushing the surface of the water. It was a silent invitation, one that made his pulse quicken and his body move forward of its own accord.

Mattheo leaned down, his face just inches from yours now. His breath ghosted over your skin and he could feel the pull towards you like gravity, something deeper than desire, darker than fascination.

“You should go,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, like the pull of the tide. Your words clung to the air, drawing out the tension between you both, but Mattheo didn’t move. His brow furrowed as he stared down at you, the cold biting his skin, though it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from the thought of leaving.

“Why?” he whispered back, eyes searching your face for answers you seemed unwilling to give. You remained silent, lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, you sank lower into the water, your fingers beginning to slip from the edge of the canoe.

Mattheo’s hand shot out before he could think, fingers wrapping around your wrist, cold and slick from the lake’s depths. For a moment, you froze, your gaze snapping back to his, your dark eyes widening slightly at his boldness.

“You keep coming back, Mattheo,” you said finally, the words heavy with meaning. “Why?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up, but there was something darker behind his grin. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Your expression didn’t change. Serious, still unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—something he couldn’t quite place. “This isn’t a game.”

“Who said anything about a game?” Mattheo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “I think I just like seeing you like this. Out here. Alone.” His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, thumb brushing along your skin in a way that sent shivers up your arm. “You sure you’re not the one who keeps pulling me back?”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before shaking your head slowly, pulling your arm free from his grip. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice almost too soft to hear. “You shouldn’t keep coming back.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, light and playful, contrasting the tension hanging between you. “Yeah, well, too bad. It’s a little too late for that, guppy.”

The nickname, meant to irritate, had the desired effect. Your eyes narrowed, and you clicked your tongue in disapproval, pushing yourself a little further from the boat, but you didn’t leave. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He leaned back casually, resting one arm on the side of the canoe as if he had all the time in the world. “It suits you.”

You huffed, though the irritation in your gaze didn’t seem as sharp as it could have been. “It’s not funny.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Didn’t say it was.”

Despite your stern demeanor, there was a faint softness to the way you watched him now, as if the constant back-and-forth had become something familiar. Something comforting, even if you wouldn’t admit it. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Mattheo,” you warned, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

“I’ll stop… when you give me a better name,” he shot back, winking. “Something less aquatic.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, sinking just beneath the surface once more, your hair floating like dark silk around you. Yet you stayed close, your presence lingering, even though you weren’t speaking.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmured to himself, staring down at the rippling water where you hovered just out of reach. He knew you were still there, watching him, listening. He always felt it. And no matter how many times you warned him, no matter how many nights passed, he would keep coming back.

He didn’t even fully understand why—just that he couldn’t stay away.

One night, as he settled into the familiar quiet by the water’s edge, he noticed you already waiting, your head barely visible above the surface. This time, you weren’t shrouded in mystery, not hidden beneath the waves like before. Instead, you floated lazily, your eyes trained on him as he approached, a faint frown tugging at your lips.

“You’re persistent,” you muttered, the water rippling slightly with the movement of your arms.

Mattheo shrugged, smirking as he crouched down by the edge of the lake. “I’m starting to think you like seeing me here every night.”

You scoffed, but didn’t swim away, staying just close enough for him to see the way your eyes sparkled in the low moonlight. “I think it’s more that you like coming back, no matter what I say.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a nonchalant grin. “But let’s be honest—if you really didn’t want me here, you’d have dragged me into the lake by now.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze flickering toward the horizon as if weighing his words. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Over time, you’d both grown accustomed to the quiet moments, the unspoken conversations that said more than words ever could.

Then, without warning, his smirk widened, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “So, how’s the water tonight, guppy?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, narrowing instantly. “Mattheo, don’t—”

“What?” He feigned innocence, sitting back on his heels, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just asking a simple question. I’m curious.”

“You know I hate that name,” you muttered, glaring at him.

He chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. “That’s why I keep using it. I like seeing you get all prickly.”

There was a flicker of something in your eyes—annoyance, maybe, but also something softer. Familiar. You huffed, turning your head slightly as if you could hide the faint amusement creeping into your expression. “You’re impossible.”

“I get that a lot,” he quipped, leaning closer to the water’s edge. “So… what’s the deal? Am I going to get the cold shoulder tonight, or are you going to tell me more about that little secret of yours?”

You sighed, floating a bit closer, your wet hair trailing behind you like dark ribbons in the water. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you, guppy.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself, though his tone carried an undertone of something deeper. Something real. You shook your head, but the smile that threatened to break through was unmistakable.

Here, in the light, you seemed harmless. Beautiful. Enigmatic. But he knew what sirens could do—what they were capable of. The stories of sailors who had been lured to their deaths, enchanted by their beauty, their voices, their pull. The line between danger and desire blurred when it came to creatures like you. When you were human, when the water hadn’t yet overtaken your mind, it felt safe. At least, that was what he told himself.

But now, seeing you here, suspended in the dark waters of the Black Lake, your true form only a whisper beneath the surface, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him.

What were your limits?

Would you hurt him if he got too close? If he dared to touch you, would you snap, the water consuming you, pulling you into the primal instincts that lived in your siren blood? You hadn’t tried to harm him, not yet. You hadn’t sung—hadn’t used that infamous voice that could drive men mad, make them lose themselves in you.

But what if you did?

Would you sing for him? Would you lure him closer, draw him into the water, and drown him without a second thought?

He leaned his body down closer to the water over the edge of the canoe, his chest tight with anticipation, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Your lips parted slightly, just a breath away from the surface, your eyes never leaving his.

His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “Why are you hiding from me?”

Mattheo wondered if this was how it would end—whether he’d be the next victim in a long line of men who had fallen for your kind, chasing after something they could never fully grasp.

But you weren’t like the others. Were you?

And for the first time, Mattheo didn’t care if he drowned.

“I wonder,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely above the soft lapping of the water, “would you try to drown me if I got closer?”

For a moment, you said nothing. The only sound was the soft ripple of water against the canoe. Then, slowly, you began to rise, hands holding onto the wood of the canoe and pushing you up, your face mere inches from his, water dripping from your hair, your lashes.

“You don’t know what you're asking,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous, yet strangely gentle.

Your breath brushed against his skin, and for a moment, Mattheo didn’t care about the danger. Didn’t care that you could destroy him in a heartbeat. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours.

“What if I do?” His voice was rough, a challenge wrapped in a whisper.

Your eyes darkened as your fingers reached for his, brushing against his hand, cold and wet. His breath hitched, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away, to break the spell you had over him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because at that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to escape.

Your touch was freezing, a sharp contrast to the heat that coiled in his chest. Mattheo’s breath hitched, his heartbeat a thunderous echo in his ears. You were dangerous. Every part of him knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Your eyes flickered, a brief flash of something—was it hunger? Or was it fear?

Your hand lingered against his, the touch ghosting over his skin as if testing the boundary between you, seeing how far you could push before he would flinch. But Mattheo didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. He wanted to know—needed to know—what you were thinking. Were you holding back, controlling the primal urges that lived inside you, or were you toying with him, drawing him deeper into your web until it was too late to escape?

His lips parted, breath shallow as he whispered, “Why don’t you sing?”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp, calculating. For a moment, he thought you might laugh, or lash out, but instead, your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Because I don’t need to,” you said, your voice as smooth as the surface of the lake, a dark promise lurking beneath. His pulse quickened at your words.

You didn’t need to sing, didn’t need to lure him with your voice, because he was already yours.

You had him in the palm of your hand without needing to utter a single note. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he wasn’t in control here. He never had been.

Your fingers trailed up his hand, your touch sending a shiver down his spine as you slowly, deliberately, let them travel up his wrist. Your eyes never left his, locked in a gaze that felt like it could see straight through him, peel back every layer of his defenses until there was nothing left but raw need.

He knew what sirens were famous for. But this—this felt different. you weren't luring him, weren’t pulling him under the water. You were just... watching. Waiting. And that was almost more terrifying than the alternative.

His chest tightened, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. He was playing with fire, dancing on the edge of something he couldn’t fully understand. And yet, despite every instinct telling him to pull back, to run, he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Whatever I want,” you murmured.

His hand reached out before he could stop himself, fingers brushing against your wet skin, slick and cold beneath his touch. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just watched him with those dark, unreadable eyes as if daring him to go further.

“You’re here every night,” you said, your voice soft, carrying across the stillness of the lake. There was something different about you tonight—something more vulnerable, almost hesitant. “Every night, you return with your silly little lantern and row into the middle of the pitch-black water. Why do you return every night?”

Mattheo swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He didn’t have an answer, not one he could put into words. Why did he come back? Why did he risk everything—his sanity, his safety—just to be close to you?

“You think you could follow me?” Your voice was cool, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker. “You’d drown, Mattheo.”

“I know how to swim, guppy.”

Your lips curved into a sad, knowing smile, your eyes dropping for a second, as if what you were about to say cost you something. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The silence between you stretched, the air thick with tension, your gaze searching his, calculating like always—but this time, there was a flicker of doubt. Your voice softened, barely a whisper as your words faltered for the first time. “I… I could…”

Mattheo leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, his voice quiet but urgent. “What could you do?”

“I could take you under.” Your eyes met his, wide and filled with a fear he’d never seen in you before. “And I don’t know if I’d let you come back up.”

The words hung in the air, a cold truth that settled deep in his bones. Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat. He knew the danger—he felt it. You weren’t just telling him that you could kill him, that you could drown him and drag his body down into the depths forever. You were warning him that if he got too close, if he pushed too far, you might not have a choice. That your nature might take over, and he would be lost.

But instead of pulling back, instead of retreating like any sane person would, Mattheo felt a wild thrill rush through his veins. He leaned in closer, his voice low and reckless. “And what if I want that? What if I want to drown?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mattheo.”

A dangerous game. Of course he was. This whole thing had been dangerous from the start. From the moment he saw you in the water that first night. He wasn’t stupid—he knew that sirens lured men to their deaths. But the more he watched you, the more he realized something was different.

You hadn’t tried to hurt him.

Not yet.

“I’ve been coming here for weeks,” he said, his voice almost teasing, though the tension still held him in its grip. “Shouldn’t you have tried to, I don’t know, eat me or drown me by now? Or whatever it is that you sirens do?”

Your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners. But it didn’t reach your eyes, which remained dark and heavy with unspoken fears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your eyes snapped to his, the vulnerability back, your lips parting as if to argue, but nothing came out. You just stared at him, frozen for a beat too long before moving forward to grip the edge of the canoe once more. “You don’t even know me.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your grip on the canoe loosened, fingers dipping beneath the surface again as you drifted back, your face slowly sinking into the water once more, his eyes holding yours until you were just a shadow beneath the surface.

The moon reflected on the water, casting a pale glow over the lake, and Mattheo leaned forwards over the edge of the canoe, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm his racing heart. His mind whirled with thoughts of you, with the danger, the thrill, the temptation. He could still feel you, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin, and it drove him mad.

He was playing a dangerous game, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo's breath hitched, his gaze locking on your lips, so close yet agonizingly out of reach. He wanted nothing more than to dive into the cold, murky depths of the lake, to feel your skin against his, to be surrounded, enraptured by you in every way possible.

"I need to be closer to you," he whispered, his voice rough with the raw desire he could barely contain.

Your eyes flickered with something that looked almost like fear. You backed away just the slightest, your fingers loosening their grip. "Mattheo, you don't understand what I am," you murmured, voice barely above a breath, the hesitation clear. "I can be dangerous."

The way you said it—like you were something to be feared, like you were the monster lurking in the shadows—only made him want you more. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat urging him closer, whispering that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"Then be dangerous," he answered, leaning forward, closing the gap between the two of you. He could see the inner struggle in your eyes, the battle you fought against yourself. But he wasn't afraid. He never had been. “Be dangerous, Y/N.”

You stayed still, lips parted as if you wanted to speak, to warn him again, but no words came. And then, with a quiet exhale, you pressed yourself closer to the canoe, your face just inches from his. "You see beauty," you whispered, voice trembling as your eyes searched his face. "But there's darkness in me, Mattheo."

His heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice, the admission you'd been holding back for so long. you weren't telling him something new—he knew. He'd always known. But it didn't matter to him.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," he murmured, his words steady, resolute.

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Before you could stop him, before he could second guess his decision, Mattheo pushed the lantern aside and let himself slide off the edge of the canoe.

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