Mattheo Riddle One Shots

ADHD

Warnings: cute, fluff, light angst

Summary: Mattheo finds out that reader has ADHD. The way he finds out is because he got mad at her for shaking her leg while they were studying together. After her friends get mad at Mattheo and tell him she has ADHD.

Words: 746

The library was unusually quiet for this time of day, and Mattheo Riddle found himself growing increasingly agitated. He wasn't sure if it was the Transfiguration notes that refused to make sense or the incessant movement beside him.

"Could you stop shaking your leg?" he snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to sting.

You froze mid-bounce, eyes wide as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Sorry," you mumbled, halting the motion but already feeling the jittery discomfort building inside you.

Mattheo sighed and ran a hand through his curls, regretting the bite in his tone but too frustrated to apologize. "It's just... distracting," he muttered, burying himself back in his notes.

The two of you studied in silence after that, but it wasn't long before your friends, Pansy and Theo, appeared. They took one look at your expression, tight-lipped and unusually reserved, and immediately pulled you aside.

"What happened?" Pansy demanded, her voice low but firm.

"Nothing. Mattheo just... asked me to stop shaking my leg," you admitted, shrugging it off even as your throat tightened. "It's fine."

Pansy's eyes narrowed, and Theo groaned. "He doesn't know, does he?" Theo asked.

You shook your head. "I didn't think it mattered."

"Of course it matters," Pansy hissed, glaring daggers at Mattheo's back. "He's your boyfriend; he should know about your ADHD."

"I didn't want to make a big deal of it," you murmured, glancing nervously toward Mattheo. He was still hunched over his notes, oblivious to the conversation happening just a few feet away. "I can handle it."

"Clearly not, if he's making you feel bad for something you can't control," Theo said, his voice softening. "You should tell him."

Before you could respond, Pansy spun on her heel and marched back toward Mattheo. "Riddle, we need to talk."

Mattheo looked up, startled. "What did I do now?"

"You snapped at her for shaking her leg, and she's been sitting there, miserable, because you couldn't take five seconds to ask why she was doing it," Pansy said, crossing her arms. "She has ADHD, you git. That's why."

Mattheo's brow furrowed, confusion giving way to realization. His heart sank as he replayed the scene in his mind—the way your leg had been bouncing, how quickly you'd apologized, and the way you'd withdrawn after his comment.

"I didn't know," he admitted, his voice quiet.

"Maybe if you paid more attention to her instead of your bloody notes, you would," Pansy shot back before walking away, leaving him to stew in his guilt.

Later that evening, Mattheo found you in the common room, curled up in an armchair with a book. You looked up as he approached, your expression guarded.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting on the armrest beside you. "Can we talk?"

You nodded, closing your book but avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he began, his voice earnest. "I didn't mean to snap at you earlier. I didn't know about... the ADHD."

"It's not your fault," you said quickly, but he shook his head.

"It is. I should've asked instead of getting mad. I hate that I made you feel bad for something that's just... part of who you are." He reached for your hand, his touch gentle. "I want to understand better. Can you help me?"

Your chest tightened at his sincerity, and you finally met his gaze. "It's just... my brain works differently. Things like shaking my leg or fidgeting help me focus. I know it can be annoying, but—"

"It's not annoying," he interrupted, squeezing your hand. "Not when I know it's helping you. I was being a prat. I'm sorry."

You smiled, the tension in your chest easing. "Thank you."

He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "From now on, if there's anything I can do to make things easier for you, tell me, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, leaning into him.

For the rest of the evening, he stayed by your side, his hand resting lightly on your bouncing knee. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes—he wasn't just tolerating your quirks. He was learning to love them, because they were a part of you.