Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Through His Eyes

Warnings: fluff, short!

Summary: Reader has glasses but always wares contacts because she's insecure. But one day she wakes up late and has no time to put in the contacts, so she wears glasses. And Mattheo sees her.

Words: 600

The morning started like a disaster. The alarm clock didn't go off, and the sunlight streaming through your dorm room window was a stark reminder that you were already running late. In your rush to get ready for the day, you reached for your contact case, but your clumsy, half-asleep hands sent it tumbling to the floor.

"Of course," you muttered, sighing as you crouched to retrieve it. No luck—your contacts were ruined.

That left you with one option: your glasses.

You hesitated, holding the slim-framed pair in your hands. Glasses. You hadn't worn them in public for years. Contacts made you feel less self-conscious, almost invisible. But time was ticking, and skipping class wasn't an option.

Sliding the glasses on, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back felt unfamiliar, awkward even. You adjusted the frames nervously and grabbed your bag, avoiding another glance.

As you hurried into the Great Hall for breakfast, you kept your head down, praying no one would notice.

But someone did.

"Y/N?"

You froze at the familiar voice. Mattheo Riddle. Of all people.

He was leaning casually against the edge of the Slytherin table, his dark curls slightly disheveled, that signature mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. But when you turned to him, his smirk faded, replaced by something you couldn't quite place.

"Hey," you mumbled, trying to keep your gaze on anything but him.

"Wait a second," he said, stepping closer. "You're wearing glasses?"

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You pushed them up your nose, a nervous habit you hadn't had to deal with since switching to contacts.

"Yeah, well, my contacts weren't an option today," you said quickly, hoping he wouldn't press further.

But Mattheo wasn't one to let things go. His eyes searched yours, warm and curious.

"They look good on you," he said, voice softer than you expected.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Don't lie."

"I'm not," he replied, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. "I mean it. You look..." He paused, his smirk returning but gentler this time. "Beautiful."

You blinked, taken aback. Mattheo Riddle, the boy who flirted with everyone and everything, was calling you beautiful—while you were wearing glasses, no less.

"You don't have to say that just to be nice," you muttered, looking down.

"Who says I'm trying to be nice?" he shot back, leaning in slightly. "I'm just being honest."

The way he said it, with that rare hint of sincerity, made your defenses crumble a little. You dared to look at him, and his expression wasn't teasing or mocking. It was... admiring.

"You should wear them more often," he said, his voice quieter now. "They suit you. And, for the record, you don't need to hide behind contacts. You're stunning either way."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. No one had ever said anything like that to you before, let alone with such conviction.

"Thanks," you whispered, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

Mattheo grinned, leaning closer still. "Anytime."

For the rest of the day, you couldn't help but feel a little more confident. And every time you caught Mattheo glancing your way, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he'd helped you see yourself through his eyes.