#toddler! reader

“Well,” you said, voice lilting with mischief, “you always correct me when I’m wrong, sigh dramatically when I make bad notes, and act like you’re being tortured whenever I smile-so yes, Professor.”

He bit back a smirk, dropping into the chair across from you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm. You love it.”

He didn’t respond. Because maybe he did.

You pushed the plate toward him. “Snickerdoodles. My mum always made them when we studied together. Cinnamon helps memory, apparently. You need that.”

Mattheo blinked at you, half amused, half baffled. “You baked these?”

You nodded, curls bouncing. “Of course. What kind of study session doesn’t have snacks? Don’t worry, I didn’t poison them-though, if you’re mean about my handwriting again, I might next time.”

He stared at you for a second longer than he meant to, then reached for one. The sugar cracked slightly under his fingers, still warm. He took a bite-and something in him stilled.

Sweet, soft, familiar.

You were watching him, chin in your hand, that ever-present gleam in your eye like you were seeing the world through some invisible bit of sunlight no one else could find. “Good?”

He swallowed, nodding once. “Too good.”

You grinned. “Perfect. Fuel for the tortured genius.”

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer whimsical,” you corrected, flipping through your notes. “It sounds more mysterious.”

“Mysterious isn’t the word I’d use.”

“What word would you use, then?” you asked, scribbling something onto parchment without looking up.

He hesitated, leaning back in his chair, the corners of his mouth tugging faintly. “Sweet.”

You looked up then, surprise flickering across your features before softening into something gentler-quieter. “Well,” you said finally, with a shy little smile, “you’re sweeter than you think too, Mattheo.”

He didn’t answer. Just reached for another cookie, pretending to study while your soft humming filled the air between them. The candlelight flickered over your face-your nose scrunched in concentration, your hair messy from running your hands through it.

And for the first time that week, maybe that month, Mattheo Riddle didn’t feel quite so cold inside.

“’M helpin’!” she declared proudly, her little voice filled with determination.

“Yeah, you are,” he said softly, ruffling her hair. His lips curved into a crooked smile, though something in his chest tightened at the sight.

She hadn’t been part of his plan-if he’d ever had one. Mattheo had been reckless, selfish, running headfirst into fights and trouble like it was second nature. And then suddenly, there she was: small, fragile, dependent on him in ways that terrified him. At first, the weight of it had felt unbearable. But looking at her now, with flour streaked across her face and sugar crystals glinting on her tiny fingers, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

“Daddy, look!” she squealed, scattering cinnamon like confetti across the dough. He snorted, shaking his head.

“Perfect,” he teased. “Best chef I’ve ever had.”

She grinned, wriggling with pride. When he sliced the dough into rolls, she clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the quiet flat. He slid the pan into the oven, only for her to tug on his sleeve.

“Daddy, dance?”

He blinked. “Dance?”

She nodded, arms reaching up for him. And without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms, her giggles muffled as she tucked her face into his neck. There was no music-just the steady hum of the oven-but he swayed anyway, humming something low under his breath.

She melted against him, tiny fingers curling into his shirt. “Love you, Daddy,” she mumbled, her voice soft with sleepiness.

Mattheo closed his eyes, pressing a kiss into her curls. “Love you too, Bug.” His throat felt thick, his chest aching in a way that was almost unbearable.

He’d never meant to end up here-he’d never planned it. But if life had given him one unexpected mercy, one thing to keep him steady, it was her. She was the best part of his world, the proof that maybe he wasn’t as broken as he’d always believed.