[riddlesrizzler]

gracie baby she/her. 23. march pisces. baby pink. chocloate boxes. crafts. coffee. cursive handwritting. sunrises. cats. big fan of evil guys

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blogs ⤷ @biscuits-and-gracie.

this is my side blog but i use it as my main blog. i unfortunately can’t like or follow from this one but if you see @biscuits-and-gracie that is me.

[riddlesrizzler]

Six Geese A-Laying

summary: Mattheo stayed close, shoulder brushing yours, as if he’d decided he wasn’t going anywhere. characters: mattheo riddle x shy! hufflepuff! reader warnings: falling? word count: 740

Mattheo,

Sometimes I wonder how a heart this small can hold so many secrets without cracking. They sit heavy inside me-like six quiet stones laid in a row, each one carved with something I’m too afraid to say aloud. Every time I write to you, the weight shifts. Some secrets settle deeper. Some rise and press against my ribs like they’re asking to be freed.

Today felt like that-a day full of heavy, fluttering things.

Maybe it was the way the Hufflepuff common room glowed, warm and golden, all honey-light and soft laughter. Maybe it was because you didn’t belong there… and yet you walked in as though you’d been part of the warmth your whole life. Like our door opened for you without hesitation.

You looked so out of place among the yellow blankets and the smell of peppermint cocoa- and yet somehow, you looked like exactly what the room had been waiting for.

I know I shouldn’t think like that. I know I shouldn’t feel my pulse trip over itself every time your eyes find mine from across a room full of people. But my heart doesn’t listen. It never has.

And when you steadied me today-hands firm, breath warm, holding me as if you were afraid I’d slip away- I felt something inside me flutter so hard it almost hurt.

I don’t know how long I can carry these secrets. But I carry them because they’re yours. And because saying them aloud might change everything.

And yet… a small part of me hopes that one day, maybe you’ll want to know every single one.

-Yours in gentle secrets and trembling stars

-

The Hufflepuff common room was a pocket of pure winter coziness-golden lanterns glowing, enchanted snow drifting lazily along the ceiling, and a towering Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. Students bustled around it, decorating with glittering baubles and knitted ornaments enchanted to hum soft carols.

You were elbow-deep in a box of ornaments when the door creaked.

Every head turned.

Because standing there-snow-dust in his curls, expression caught between confusion and mild suffering- was Mattheo Riddle.

A Slytherin. In the Hufflepuff common room. Looking like he’d just wandered into a sunbeam he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Your friends snickered. Someone elbowed you. Your heart performed a very dramatic leap.

Mattheo scanned the room, found you instantly, and exhaled like the sight of you was a lifeline.

“Don’t ask,” he muttered as he walked in, brushing snow off his shoulders. “Longbottom and Abbott cornered me in the hallway and said I needed ‘more holiday spirit.’ Then they shoved me in here.”

Your friends burst into laughter.

You smiled-soft, nervous, warm. He softened in return.

“Here,” you said gently, offering him a handful of golden ribbon. “You can help with the tree.”

He stared at the ribbon like it was a cursed object. But he sat beside you anyway.

You guided him, showing him where to drape the garland, how to charm the baubles to sparkle. He grumbled, but every time your fingers brushed his, he went still-like the world paused, just for the contact.

At one point, you reached up on tiptoe to place a star at the top. The stool beneath you wobbled.

“Careful-” he started.

Too late.

You tipped forward with a small gasp-

-and Mattheo moved without thinking.

Strong hands gripped your waist, steady and certain. Your body collided with his chest, your breath caught, his heartbeat thundered beneath your palm.

For a moment, the whole common room disappeared. There was only you. Only him. Only the star still clutched awkwardly in your hand.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, rougher than usual.

“Yes,” you whispered, though your heart was sprinting.

He didn’t let go right away.

“Let me,” he murmured, taking the star gently from your hand.

He reached up-effortless with his height-and fixed it to the top branch. The star glowed bright, a soft golden flare illuminating the side of his face. When he looked back at you, it painted him in warm light, softening every sharp edge.

Your breath hitched.

Someone cheered. Your friends applauded. But Mattheo only looked at you.

“See?” he said quietly. “Didn’t fall. I’ve got you.”

Your cheeks burned. His hand brushed yours-light, deliberate, like a promise held between fingertips.

And as the room erupted in carols and twinkling lights, Mattheo stayed close, shoulder brushing yours, as if he’d decided he wasn’t going anywhere.

[riddlesrizzler]

Five Golden Rings

summary: When you’re near, the world stops being dim.characters: mattheo riddle x shy! hufflepuff!reader warnings: none! word count: 817

Mattheo,

Some days I feel like I move through Hogwarts as if I’m made of smoke-drifting, unnoticed, slipping between louder voices and brighter people. My friends insist I’m not invisible, that I’m just quiet, just gentle, just… me. But sometimes it’s hard not to wonder if the world only sees outlines, not the girl inside them.

I suppose that’s why today stayed with me longer than it should have.

Five golden rings. The number sits in the corner of this parchment like a tiny crown, and I can’t stop thinking about what gold means. It glitters. It gleams. It shines.

But only when there’s light.

Gold never glows on its own-it reflects whatever brightens it. It needs something warm to catch, something steady to anchor to.

And lately… Lately, you’ve been that light.

The way you walked beside me in the snow-dusted forest today, not saying much, but close enough that I could feel your presence like a shield-solid, certain. The way your gaze flickered toward me whenever the trees creaked or the wind howled. The way you stepped slightly in front of me when the centaurs passed, as if your body decided to protect mine before your mind had time to think.

You didn’t notice, I’m sure. But I did.

Maybe I’m quiet, maybe my voice isn’t the one that fills rooms or demands attention… but when you look at me, I feel seen. More than seen-lit up, like something gold catching sunlight.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t know if you’ll ever know how someone as soft-spoken as me could feel so much.

But Mattheo… When you’re near, the world stops being dim.

And for a moment-just a moment-I shine.

-Yours in shadows and small pieces of gold

-

Winter in the Forbidden Forest carried its own kind of magic-quiet, ancient, a little eerie. The frost clung to tree bark like lace, mist curled low to the ground, and the air smelled of pine sap and cold earth. Your class trudged along in a scattered line, baskets in hand, collecting winter herbs for a rare seasonal potion.

You stayed near the middle of the group, bundled in layers, scarf tucked up to your chin. Mattheo walked a step behind you-close enough that you could hear the slow crunch of snow beneath his boots, close enough that you could feel warmth at your back even in the freezing air.

Neither of you said much at first. The forest didn’t feel like the kind of place you filled with small talk.

But you felt him. Always there. A presence warm and steady against the cold.

Professor Sprout instructed everyone to spread out in pairs to harvest Silverleaf sprigs along the forest floor. Naturally, your friends paired off instantly… leaving you standing alone.

Or almost alone.

“I’ll help her.” Mattheo’s voice came from right beside you-firm, not up for debate.

Your friends exchanged looks. You pretended not to notice.

Mattheo knelt beside you among the roots, brushing snow aside so you could reach the glinting Silverleaf. His breath clouded in the air, drifting close to your cheek. When you reached for a sprig, your gloved fingers brushed his.

You froze. He didn’t.

His lips twitched-just barely, but enough to warm something in your chest.

Snow drifted thicker now, falling in soft spirals. You stood to shake it from your coat, but before you could fully straighten-

A distant thud echoed through the trees. Then another. Hoofbeats.

The class stiffened.

And Mattheo… stepped in front of you.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just a single, instinctive movement-his arm shifting slightly back as if to draw you nearer, his shoulders tense, his eyes fixed on the shadows between the trees.

Two centaurs emerged, tall and imposing, their breath mingling with the mist. They didn’t speak but passed silently, watchful, scanning each student with cautious discipline.

Your heartbeat stumbled. Not from fear-from the way Mattheo angled his body, the way his hand hovered near yours without quite touching, as if holding himself back took effort.

Only when the centaurs disappeared into the white did his shoulders loosen.

“You alright?” he murmured, glancing back at you.

You nodded.

He didn’t seem convinced.

His eyes searched your face, warm despite the cold, lingering like he was memorizing every snowflake caught in your hair.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t,” you whispered.

He smiled then-not a smirk, not the lazy grin he gave his friends, but something quieter. Something that felt like a secret.

“Good,” he said. But he still stayed close for the rest of the walk. Close enough that your elbows brushed. Close enough that when wind rattled the branches, he leaned in just slightly-shielding you without ever announcing it.

And as the class started the trek back toward the castle, your footprints and his trailed side by side through the snow.

Perfectly aligned.

[riddlesrizzler]

hi friends

after a very long time debating back and forth. i have come to the conclusion that i am taking a break from this blog.

i know this may come at a bad time giving the 12 letters series, but unfortunately i will have to pause it after chapter six. life has just gotten in the way more than i had thought it would, with the holidays and a couple of things in my personal life.

i also just feel likely writing is not where it should be at the moment. part of me feels that this may be because my obsession with the slytherin boys is dwindling (which is also unfortunate).

at this moment in time, i am going to focus on my other blog @biscuits-and-gracie and posting for different characters on there. i believe that i will come back and write for the slytherin boys again, i just need a break from them.

i love you all very much and i appreciate all of the support and love that has been sent my way. this is not goodbye, just a pause.

happy holidays and happy new year!

yours,

the rizzler

[riddlesrizzler]

THEME AS CUTE AS YOU but the little nav boards are so cute!

eeek thank you pizza!! made on canva!

[riddlesrizzler]

Four Calling Birds

summary: As if he hadn’t chosen you over all of them. characters: mattheo riddle x shy! hufflepuff! reader warnings: none! word count: 921

Mattheo,

My friends are convinced I’ve gone mad. Not over homework, not over N.E.W.T.s, not even over Professor Sprout’s latest “character-building” assignment that left us all smelling faintly of compost. No-apparently I’ve lost my mind because I “keep staring at you whenever you laugh.”

I deny it, of course. I tell them they’re imagining things, that I am far too busy repotting Fluttering Ferns or memorizing antidote charts to be staring at anyone. But they just look at me with that knowing, giggly expression-one that says yes you do, even if I pretend not to notice.

Maybe it's because your laugh feels… rare. Like the kind of sound you have to earn. Soft at first, almost cautious, like you’re testing the world to see if it’s safe. Then warmer, fuller, the way a fireplace grows from a spark into something you can gather around.

I don’t stare. I simply… look a little too long.

It’s the way winter sunlight settles on your cheek when you throw your head back. The way your shoulders relax as if someone-maybe the universe, maybe nobody at all-lifted a weight off them. The way the corners of your eyes crease with genuine joy, as if for a moment you’ve forgotten every shadow that tries to follow you.

My friends say I go soft when you laugh. That my expression changes. That I look like someone listening to her favorite song. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not as subtle as I think.

But how am I supposed to look away from something that feels like a little miracle each time it happens?

If anyone asks, I’ll still deny it. But here, in ink, in the quiet where only parchment can hear me: Yes. I look. And I hope-selfishly-that one day, you’ll laugh like that because of me.

-Yours in secret ink and soft glances

-

The Great Hall glowed with a soft, wintry warmth-the floating candles dusted in charm-made frost, garlands looping between banners, and the smell of cinnamon drifting from the holiday desserts stacked on silver trays. Your friends chattered around you, laughter blending with the clatter of plates and the distant hum of carols drifting from the far corner where a bewitched choir of tiny ornaments sang.

You were half-listening, half daydreaming, hands curled around a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The heat seeped into your palms, grounding you after a long day of Herbology, but your mind… well, your mind was drifting somewhere else entirely.

That somewhere walked into the Great Hall with snow melting in dark curls at the nape of his neck.

Mattheo. Green tie askew. Cheeks tinted pink from the cold. A grin that could thaw winter.

He scanned the room in that casual, careless way of his-like he wasn’t looking for anything at all, but somehow found you anyway.

Your spine went rigid. Your friends noticed. They grinned.

And when he started walking toward your table, you nearly choked on your breath.

“Is he-?” one of them whispered.

“He is,” another confirmed, delighted.

Mattheo didn’t stop at the Slytherin table. Didn’t pause beside his usual seat. Didn’t so much as glance at his friends waving him over.

He walked straight toward yours.

Your heart hammered. You pulled your cocoa closer. Like it could be a shield. Or camouflage. Or maybe a small hiding place.

“Mind if I sit?” Mattheo asked, nodding toward the empty seat across from you.

Your friends chorused: “Nope!” “Go ahead!” “Sit, please!” far too quickly to be subtle.

Mattheo smirked, brushing a bit of snow from his sleeve before lowering himself into the chair. His gaze flicked up, caught yours, and-

You panicked.

Your hands shot up, mug rising with them like curtains slamming shut. You hid behind it, the rim covering half your face.

He blinked. Then his lips curled into the slowest, warmest smile. Not mocking-just amused. Softly, quietly amused.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning his elbows on the table, “if you’re trying to hide, you need a bigger mug.”

Your friends erupted into muffled laughter, looking anywhere but the two of you, pretending desperately not to watch.

Your face burned. Your cocoa nearly sloshed over the edge.

Mattheo’s gaze lingered, his expression somewhere between fond and curious-like he was cataloguing every twitch of your fingers, every flustered blink, every breath you tried to steady.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low enough that it felt meant only for you.

You nodded too quickly.

“Yeah,” you squeaked.

His smile widened.

Snowflakes drifted past the tall windows, swirling lazily, reflecting in his eyes like glittering sparks.

“Good,” he said softly. Because he liked that you were flustered. Because he liked that you were trying to hide from him. Because he liked watching you do it.

He reached for a mug of cocoa the elves had just set out and tapped his spoon gently against the rim.

“Tell me about your day,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to sit across from you. As if his friends weren’t still staring from across the hall trying to figure out what on earth he was doing at the Hufflepuff table. As if he hadn’t chosen you over all of them.

You lowered your mug slowly-hesitantly-testing the waters.

His eyes stayed on you the entire time. Warm. Attentive. Bright, like catching firelight in the dark.

And for the rest of dinner, through laughter and cocoa and the lightest brush of his knee against yours under the table, you didn’t hide again.

Not completely.

[riddlesrizzler]

Three French Hens

summary: But I know how it felt. Warm. characters: mattheo riddle x hufflepuff! reader warnings: none! word count: 1.1k

Dear Mattheo,

If the Twelve Days of Christmas were a reflection of my actual life, then today would’ve proven one thing very clearly: I can barely keep up with one Slytherin boy-Merlin save me from three French hens.

You walked me back to my dorm tonight, snow falling in soft sheets around us, and I swear the world felt too quiet for my own good. The kind of quiet where thoughts get loud. The kind of quiet where feelings start stepping out of shadows I’ve been keeping them in.

I tried to play it cool. Really, I did. But then you looked at me with that grin-the one that makes it look like you know every secret I haven’t even told myself yet-and you said, “Merlin, sweetheart, how many layers are you wearing? Are you trying to survive a blizzard or start one?”

I told you I was cold. You told me I was adorable. I pretended not to hear it. (I definitely heard it.)

You brushed snowflakes from my scarf at one point-casual, like it was nothing-except your fingers lingered a bit too long and my heart nearly dove into the nearest snowbank just to cool off.

I don’t know why you walked me back. I don’t know why you kept glancing over as if making sure I didn’t slip or vanish or drift away with the snow. I don’t know why your shoulder brushed mine so many times it felt like a conversation.

But I know how it felt. Warm.

Unexpectedly warm, despite the way my breath fogged in the cold and my ears stung from the wind.

You laughed at how bundled up I was, but the truth is… I think I needed it. Not the scarf or the mittens or the extra sweater. You.

Just your presence beside me, steady and teasing and close enough that I could hear the crunch of snow beneath your boots.

You made the walk feel shorter than it ever has. You made the castle lights look brighter. And for one impossible moment, when you held the door open for me and said, “See you tomorrow, yeah?” I almost believed you might mean it the same way I do.

But no. I won’t let myself be foolish. I’ll just keep writing these letters, keep laughing at my own jokes, keep imagining three ridiculous French hens clucking impatiently at my hopeless crush.

Yours in too many layers and not enough courage,

-

The greenhouses glowed like lanterns against the early evening dark, their glass panes fogged with warm breath and drifting curls of steam. Snow had thickened over the grounds while she’d been tending her mandrake notes, settling in soft, powdery layers across the lawn.

Students spilled out into the cold in clusters-scarves pulled tight, laughter turning to mist. She hugged her Herbology book to her chest and stepped carefully onto the path, breath puffing in little white clouds.

A familiar voice cut through the chatter. “There you are.”

She turned just in time to see Mattheo striding toward her, his cloak catching flakes of snow, his hair dusted with white as if winter itself had tugged him aside to kiss his head. Behind him, Draco and Theo slowed, exchanging looks that were nearly identical in their confusion.

“Thought you were coming with us,” Theo called, brows knitting.

Mattheo didn’t even glance back. “I’ll catch up.”

“Since when do you walk back with-” Draco began, but Mattheo shot him a look sharp enough to cut through ice. Both boys went silent. Both stared. Neither understood.

Mattheo shook his head once, dismissing them, and fell into step beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Ready?” he asked.

She blinked, startled. “For… what?”

“To head back.” His lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. Something softer. “Unless you enjoy freezing out here.”

“I-I wasn’t sure you’d want to walk with me,” she admitted, cheeks warming despite the cold.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. But he said it lightly-too lightly-like if he didn’t soften the words they might reveal something too real.

The path toward the castle stretched ahead, a pale, snowy ribbon illuminated by lanterns that glowed gold against the falling flakes. As they walked, her boots crunched softly beside his heavier steps, their breath rising in twin plumes into the darkening air.

Behind them, Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Since when?” Theo made a bewildered noise. Mattheo ignored all of it.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

“Fine.” He shrugged. “My friends just think I’ve lost my mind.”

She laughed-the quiet, warm kind that always made him look over. Always made something in his chest shift. “And have you?” she teased.

“Probably,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “But maybe that’s your fault.”

Her heart tripped. “What did I do?”

“You exist,” he said, like it was obvious. Then he cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck like he suddenly regretted how honest that had sounded.

The wind brushed past them, swirling snow in delicate spirals. When a gust threatened to tug her scarf loose, she reached to pull it tight, but Mattheo was quicker.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

He stepped closer-close enough that she could see the way snowflakes melted on his lashes. His fingers were steady and warm as he retied her scarf, tucking it snug against her mouth and pulling her hood just slightly over her hair.

“There,” he said softly. “Now you won’t freeze before we make it twenty steps.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed at how flustered she felt. “Thanks.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You really don’t have to thank me every time I do something.”

“But you don’t usually…” She trailed off, not sure how to explain the truth: You don’t usually notice girls like me. You don’t usually look at someone the way you’re looking at me.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, like he’d read her thoughts anyway. “I know.”

The castle loomed ahead, warm light spilling from the entry arch. When they reached the doors, he hesitated-just like he had the day before-turning to face her fully, snow melting against his collar.

“So…” He stepped on the toe of his boot nervously. “Can I walk you again tomorrow?”

Her breath caught. “Y-you want to?”

His lips curled, softer than she’d ever seen. “Yeah. I do.”

From across the courtyard, Draco groaned loudly. “Oh for Merlin’s sake-just ask her to marry you already!”

Mattheo flipped him off without breaking eye contact with her. She laughed, glowing all the way to her fingertips.

“Tomorrow, then,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, and this time, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t smiling.

[riddlesrizzler]

Two Turtle Doves

summary: Mattheo Riddle framed by falling snow and candlelight, looking at her as if the winter afternoon had been a little warmer because she was there. characters: mattheo riddle x hufflepuff! reader warnings: none! word count: 1.0k

Dear Mattheo,

Today the world felt softer somehow, as if the snow falling outside the library windows had taken the sharp edges off everything. Even you. Especially you.

I keep thinking about the way you sat across from me this afternoon, quill tapping absently against your parchment while the candles flickered gold between us. You didn’t say much, but you didn’t have to-your presence filled the room the way warm light spills into a cold doorway, quiet but certain. I’m not sure you realize you do that.

I read once that turtle doves stay together for life. A pair, gentle and loyal, always returning to one another even when the seasons pull them apart. I wrote that fact in the margins of my Herbology notes today and immediately felt ridiculous. You probably think things like that are silly. But I like the thought of it-of a love that doesn’t scorch or demand or frighten. Something steady. Something that breathes instead of burns.

You feel like the opposite of that. You’re storms and strong winds and shadows dancing beneath green flames. You’re loud in ways that don’t involve sound. And yet, sitting there with you in the hush of the library, watching snowflakes drift past the window behind you… I felt something shift. Like maybe the storms you carry have soft parts, too. Like maybe there’s a quiet blue sky tucked somewhere inside you that you don’t show anyone.

I wish I didn’t notice these things. I wish they didn’t matter. But they do.

When you leaned over to hand me that book, your fingers brushed mine-barely-and it was the smallest, most electrifying moment of my whole day. Maybe my whole winter. You didn’t pull away right away, either. You hesitated. Just long enough for me to wonder what that meant, and then to scold myself for wondering at all.

I know this crush is one-sided. I know I’m reading galaxies into starlight. But for one quiet afternoon, we sat together like the world wasn’t divided into houses and shadows and expectations. Just… two people sharing warmth while snow floated past the glass.

And I’m going to keep this moment folded in my pocket a little longer. Even if it’s foolish. Especially if it’s foolish.

Yours in the hush between snowflakes,

-

The library was warmer than usual, a pleasant break from the bite of December air that clung to the castle. Snow tapped lightly at the tall arched windows, leaving delicate white lace along the glass. Candles floated in lazy orbits overhead, their flames flickering gold across worn wooden tables. Everything felt hushed, cozy, wrapped in a kind of winter magic that made the whole room seem softer.

She slipped into her usual seat with a stack of books that towered just a little too high for her arms, parchment tucked beneath her elbow. She didn’t expect him to show up. Why would he? He was Mattheo Riddle-storm-eyed, sharp-edged, and always surrounded by the kind of people who moved through life boldly, fearlessly. She was… not that.

So when the chair across from her scraped quietly against the stone floor, she nearly jolted. Mattheo dropped a single textbook on the table, then sat like he belonged there-like he always sat with her on winter afternoons.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just opened his book, ran a hand through his hair (still damp from the snow outside), and leaned back slightly, one knee nudging hers beneath the table. Accidentally or not, she wasn’t sure.

Her heart fluttered anyway.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked suddenly, eyes flicking up to hers. His voice was low, almost soft.

She shook her head too quickly. “N-no. I mean-no, it’s fine.”

“Good,” he murmured, and went back to reading.

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t the cold, awkward kind. It was warm, like a blanket tucked around shoulders. The kind of silence that feels shared. She dipped her quill into ink and tried to focus on her notes, but her hand drifted toward an empty corner of the parchment. Without thinking, she began doodling-tiny sprigs of holly, clusters of berries, little stars with soft edges.

She didn’t notice him watching until she felt it-the prickle of being seen.

“You always do that?” Mattheo asked, chin now propped on his hand.

She blinked up at him. “Do what?”

A small, amused smile curved his mouth. “Draw little Christmas things everywhere.” He tilted his head toward her parchment. “Even your essays look festive.”

Her cheeks heated. “It’s just a habit. Helps me think.”

“Hm.” He rested his forearm on the table, leaning a bit closer, voice dropping. “I like it.”

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily past the windows, glowing gold whenever they crossed paths with candlelight. One landed against the glass behind him, melting slowly into a silver trail. It was almost unfair how the scene framed him-dark hair, pale winter light, a slow, thoughtful expression that softened every sharp line of him.

He didn’t belong in her quiet, gentle world of doodles and warm cocoa and holiday cheer. And yet… here he was. Sitting across from her like this was where he wanted to be.

After a while, he reached for a book and slid it across the table. “You might need this one,” he said.

Their fingers brushed-just barely. But he didn’t pull away.

If anything… he lingered. A heartbeat, maybe two. Just long enough for warmth to bloom in her chest in a way she tried so hard not to believe in.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Mattheo nodded, eyes flicking briefly to her lips before he forced himself back to his parchment, jaw tightening like he’d noticed too much.

They studied like that for nearly an hour, exchanging quiet comments, subtle glances, soft smiles that felt almost accidental. When the candles flickered lower and the librarian started her end-of-day sweep, he stood and shrugged into his cloak.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, not quite casual, not quite hopeful.

Her breath caught. “If you want.”

He smirked faintly. “I do.”

And for the rest of the night, the image lingered in her mind-Mattheo Riddle framed by falling snow and candlelight, looking at her as if the winter afternoon had been a little warmer because she was there.

[riddlesrizzler]

Hi pookie I have a little request

Now i need something decently long not horribly but enough.

In my Dr I'm a figure skater for the Olympics representing Scotland sponsered by Hogwarts (shocker I know) but I switch partners tom and Lorenzo and I NEEEEDDDD a figure skating fic with either Tom or Enzo like I'm taking a break from shifting so I'm going through withdrawals Gracie HELP ME

HI POOKIE!!

although this prompt sounds delicious! i’m unfortunately not taking requests right now. 😞

lowkey would hit up @viperify because her tom fics make it hard to keep both hands on the phone (and i’m not even a tom girlie)

[riddlesrizzler]

What's some tips you have when it comes to writing fanfics?

i’ve been thinking about this ask for a while because i was trying figure out how to answer it.

when it comes to fan fiction, my advice would be write what you’ve always wanted to read. that’s how i got started on tumblr.

i had so many ideas for mattheo and the slytherin boys that i figured “hey might as well write it”

i also don’t think it has to be perfect, i’ve never been good with grammar but i feel like im leaning the more i write.

i hope this was helpful!

[riddlesrizzler]

OMGOSH GRACIE

Apiapt IS SO GOOD I CANT WAIT FOR MOREEE!!!! Are you turning it into a fic?

I feel exactly like when I'm with mattheo in my dr he makes me so nervyyyyyy

EEEK! yes! it’s part of my series 12 days of letters

so more coming soon!

[suprclark]

HOW DOES PINTEREST DESCRIBE YOUR ENERGY?

search & post the first pic : vibe. outfit. room. hair. accessory. aesthetic.

tagged by @bruisedboys . yours is so cutesy mal i love it <3

tags 🏷️ ― @lov3notts @sunnliqht @wintrsoul @stevebabey @notyaslol @pretty-little-mind33 + anyone else who wants to join in !

[sunnliqht]

thanks for the tag ivy! this was fun, love doing these <3

🏷️: @puddlesoffrogs @geminiwritten @nervoushottee @stevie-petey @eternalbuckley + anyone who wants to join <3

[eternalbuckley]

wait this looks so good and actually fits so well! thanks for tagging me brooke 🫶

npt: @rositxespinosa @amorgasmic @oldermenfucker @torturedpoetism @yuunarii-arii + anyone who wants to do it!

[torturedpoetism]

thanks for tagging me @acourtofchaos @eternalbuckley @nottendo!! I love these 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

no pressure tags— @rafesbabygirlx @yuunarii-arii @vcnillafairy @nottsbabe @nottsnymph @robinbuckleywife @riddlemelater @riddlesrizzler + anyone else who wants to play!

[riddlesrizzler]

thank you for tagging me @torturedpoetism !! this was so cutie

npt: @nottendo @puddlesoffrogs @redeemingvillains @dearmisshoney

[riddlesrizzler]

this obsession couldn’t have come at the worst time 😩😩

[riddlesrizzler]

A Partridge in a Pear Tree

summary: His grin didn’t reach his eyes, but it didn’t have to; it was still enough to melt something small and terrified inside her. characters: mattheo riddle x hufflepuff! reader warnings: none! word count: 833

Dear Mattheo,

I know you’ll never read this. That’s what makes it safe, I think. Writing your name here feels a little like tossing a pebble into the Black Lake and watching the ripples fade-beautiful for a moment, but gone before anyone can notice.

I suppose that’s what my crush on you feels like, too. Something small and secret and fleeting, like winter light catching on frost before it melts.

I notice things about you that I shouldn’t. The way you lean back in your chair during class, arms crossed, pretending not to listen even though I can see the way your brow tightens when you’re thinking. The way your laugh comes from your chest, quiet but rich, as though you’re trying to hide the fact that you have one at all. The way you look out the window during snowstorms-like the world outside means something to you that no one else could understand.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you looked at me that way. If your eyes-those sharp, restless eyes-ever softened when they landed on me. I imagine it would feel like standing in the Great Hall at night when the candles float low and everything glows honey-gold, and the air smells faintly of pine and cinnamon. Warm, even in December.

But I’m not your type. I know that. I’m quiet where others are clever, kind where others are confident. I sit at my desk and doodle holly leaves in the margins of my notes, while you carry a storm in your veins. You’re the spark that makes people look twice; I’m the soft light they forget came from a candle at all.

So I’ll keep this to myself. I’ll write it down and fold it between pages of parchment scented faintly of sugar quills and ink. It’s safer that way. Still, I hope-just once-that you catch me looking and don’t look away too quickly.

Yours (only here, only in ink),

-

Snow had started falling sometime during breakfast. By the time Potions class began, the castle windows were fogged with frost and the dungeons glowed dimly under the yellow light of floating candles. The air smelled faintly of peppermint from someone’s enchanted quill and the sharper scent of powdered root of asphodel.

She sat at her usual table, gloves tucked neatly in her lap, parchment perfectly squared before her. Her quill hovered over the heading-Draught of Frost Resistance- but her mind was elsewhere. More precisely, it was three rows up and slightly to the left, where Mattheo Riddle leaned against the stone wall with his tie half-loosened and his hair still damp from the snow outside.

Professor Slughorn’s voice bounced warmly across the room. “Ah, yes, today we’ll be working in pairs! I’ll assign them-best to mix the houses a bit before the holidays.”

Her heart immediately began to flutter. She prayed to Merlin- or Santa, she wasn’t picky -that she’d be paired with someone safe. Someone quiet. Someone who wouldn’t notice the way her hands trembled when she poured ingredients.

“Miss-ah, our Hufflepuff here-” Slughorn scanned the room, eyes landing on her with a pleased grin, “-you’ll be with Mr. Riddle. He could use a partner with your level of focus.”

The world tilted slightly. She blinked. Once. Twice.

Mattheo straightened, glancing her way. For a split second, confusion flickered in his dark eyes -then something else. Amusement, maybe. He grabbed his cauldron with one hand and sauntered over, the faint clink of glass vials echoing against the stone.

“Guess it’s you and me,” he said, voice low and lazy. His grin didn’t reach his eyes, but it didn’t have to; it was still enough to melt something small and terrified inside her.

“Y-yeah,” she managed, clearing her throat. “Um… I can measure the root if you want to prep the cauldron.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You trust me with fire?”

She smiled before she could stop herself. “Only a little.”

That earned the tiniest huff of laughter-real this time, soft and startled.

They worked in quiet, the kind that wasn’t quite uncomfortable but wasn’t yet easy. She measured ingredients with delicate precision; he crushed frost petals with the heel of his hand, movements practiced and confident. Every now and then their shoulders brushed when reaching for the same vial, and she swore the air shimmered faintly where they touched.

Steam rose in pale ribbons from their cauldron, curling up to meet the dim candlelight. The potion turned the perfect shade of winter blue.

“You’re good at this,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

She looked up, caught off guard. “Oh-I just follow directions.”

He smirked, but there was something thoughtful in it. “Yeah, but not everyone follows them well.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Don’t mention it.” But when he looked at her again, there was the smallest, most disarming thing she’d ever seen on his face- a smile. Uncertain, crooked, genuine.

It was gone almost as quickly as it came, but she carried it with her the rest of the day-that fleeting warmth, like the last flicker of a candle before the wind takes it.

And that night, while snow fell quietly outside her window and the castle slept beneath its white blanket, she wrote another letter.

[riddlesrizzler]

happy thanksgiving to you all! i am grateful for this community and this platform for giving me a place where i could express my thoughts of the slytherin boys and people understand what i mean 💕

i hope everyone has the best day and gets super full of love and great food! thankful for each and every one of you!

[riddlesrizzler]

Grateful in Green

summary: A Hufflepuff heart surrounded by green. characters: mattheo riddle. theo nott. enzo berkshire. draco malfoy. blaise zabini. hufflepuff! reader warnings: none! word count: 869

The dungeons had never felt so warm.

Usually, the Slytherin common room glowed a quiet, cold green-all polished stone and flickering reflections from the Black Lake. But tonight, it looked like someone had spilled autumn across the walls. Fairy lights zigzagged overhead, golden leaves charmed to drift lazily through the air. Pumpkins carved with crooked smiles lined the tables, candles flickering in every direction.

You could practically smell comfort-cinnamon, roasted pumpkin, firewood, and a hint of vanilla from the pie cooling on the table.

“Merlin’s beard,” you said, stepping in with wide eyes. “It looks like autumn threw up in here.”

Mattheo Riddle turned, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Spent all afternoon making it look like a Pinterest board.” His curls were dusted with flour -you didn’t ask why-and his sleeves were rolled up, arms smudged with what looked suspiciously like pumpkin puree.

“Pinterest board?” Draco scoffed from his spot on the couch, nursing a glass of cider. “You mean chaos. The ceiling nearly caught fire twice.”

“It was controlled chaos,” Mattheo defended, grinning wider when you laughed. “Besides, Theo said we needed ambience.”

Theodore Nott was sprawled in an armchair, sleeves pushed up, looking far too comfortable. “I said candles, mate. Not an inferno.”

Blaise, leaning lazily against the mantel, lifted his glass in salute. “Regardless, it’s perfect. Almost makes me sentimental.”

“You?” Enzo teased, emerging from the kitchen with an armful of plates. “That’ll be the day.” He set them down and gave you a smile-soft, a little shy, the kind that made your heart skip. “You made it just in time. We were about to start without you.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

Mattheo pointed his spoon at you, mock-serious. “You were late, Hufflepuff. Tragic, considering you’re the moral center of this operation.”

“Oh, because you lot clearly can’t function without me?” you said, moving past him to peek at the table. It was overflowing-mashed potatoes piled high, a questionable turkey, charmed gravy boats, and more desserts than dinner. You smiled softly. “You actually did all this?”

“Mostly,” Enzo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mattheo may have threatened the house-elves.”

“Politely negotiated,” Mattheo corrected.

You laughed, the sound bubbling bright and warm. “Well, it’s perfect. Really.”

-

Dinner was… loud. Beautifully, hopelessly loud.

Mattheo told stories that made everyone laugh until they choked, gesturing wildly and knocking over his cider twice. Theo’s quiet chuckles carried over the clatter of plates; Blaise hummed along to the record spinning lazily in the corner-a jazz tune he’d insisted “set the vibe.” Enzo kept sneaking extra rolls onto your plate when you weren’t looking, and Draco, despite his protests, smiled more than you’d ever seen him smile.

It felt like family.

After dinner, the room dimmed into soft candlelight. Someone- probably Enzo-had charmed the fire to burn gold. You sat cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by half-empty plates and sleepy laughter.

“Alright,” Mattheo said suddenly, leaning back on his elbows. “One rule. Everyone has to say something they’re thankful for. Hufflepuff’s orders.”

“My orders?” you giggled.

He shrugged, eyes glinting. “You’re the heart of the group. Pretty sure that makes you Head of Gratitude.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Fine. But you start.”

Mattheo looked thoughtful-uncharacteristically so. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, then said, softer, “I’m thankful for this. For the group. For… a place that actually feels like home.” He glanced at you when he said it, and your stomach did a little flip.

Theo cleared his throat next. “Thankful for quiet moments,” he murmured. “And people who don’t need to fill them.” He didn’t look up, but you caught the small, private smile tugging at his lips.

Enzo went after him. “I’m thankful for laughter,” he said simply. “Especially yours.” His gaze caught yours for just a second too long, and your face went warm.

Draco swirled his cider, pretending to think. “Thankful for second chances,” he said finally, voice low. “And for people who see the good before the rest of the world does.” His eyes flicked your way too, just for a heartbeat.

Blaise sighed dramatically when it was his turn. “I’m thankful,” he said, “for fine wine, good music, and-” He paused, smirk softening. “Friends who make even the dungeons feel like sunlight.”

They all turned to you.

You hesitated, smiling at the five of them-your chaos, your comfort, your found family. “I’m thankful,” you said, voice thick with warmth, “for you. For the noise, and the quiet, and the food that’s somehow still edible. For this-being together.”

The room went quiet for a heartbeat, golden and full.

Mattheo grinned first, nudging your shoulder. “Alright, Hufflepuff. You’re gonna make us soft.”

Theo murmured, “Too late for that.”

You laughed. They laughed. The candles flickered. Outside, snow began to fall in lazy spirals against the lake glass, and inside, five Slytherins and one Hufflepuff sat tangled in the kind of warmth you never wanted to end.

-

Later, when the plates were cleared and the music slowed, you found yourself sitting between them on the couch-Enzo draped half-asleep on one side, Theo and Draco arguing softly on the other, Mattheo and Blaise tossing popcorn at the fireplace like overgrown children.

And you thought: If gratitude had a shape, it would look like this-messy, loud, full of laughter and love.

A Hufflepuff heart surrounded by green.

[riddlesrizzler]

Good afternoon Gracie! I just wanted to pop in to say hi and see how you’re doing 🥰 I have been loving the fics you’ve been posting (as I always do) and I can’t wait to catch up on the most recent 2 🥰🥰🧡🧡

megan!! i hope you’re doing well! i am so sorry i am answering late!!

can’t wait to update you with all my new stuff!