♡ How Rafe would treat you each season... / headcanons
♡ Rafe x Reader GF
Rafe spoils you by buying you books / fluff
♡ Rafe x Shy GF Reader / fluff, suggestive
How Rafe treats his shy girlfriend...
♡ Blood Pact / Jealous!Rafe x Reader
Connecting your blood with Rafes as a promise to be his forever
✘ Rafe takes care of you after a horrible dinner with his family / smut
♡ A whole day of Rafe spoiling you 🛍
♡ Scary? My God, you're divine
Telling Rafe you love him for the first time...
♡ Rafe & hickeys
SOCIAL MEDIA
♡ Texting bf!Rafe part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4
♡ Snaps with bf!Rafe
♡ Readers stories with bf!Rafe
— JJ MAYBANK
SOCIAL MEDIA
♡ Texting bf!JJ
— THEODORE NOTT
♡ Dating Theo headcanons
♡ You're the best I ever had, you're the worst I ever had
You and Theo used to be close but you aren't anymore, he gets your attention by being mean to you / angst (good ending)
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!! My inbox is always open! 💕
! I DO write smut
! Please do NOT request a specific name for the reader, it's "x reader" for a reason 😭 (I try to avoid using Y/N most of the time)
Summary: Neteyam Sully has spent his whole life being perfect. You’ve spent yours surviving. On the battlefield, you’re constantly at each other's throats. Behind closed tent flaps, you’re... well, still at each other's throats, just differently.
Warnings: 3.8k words, aged up! neteyam, rival with benefits, explicit smut, p in v, hate sex, fingering, a lot of teasing, mdni
Chapters: friendly fire, friendlier fire, friendliest fire
For his entire life, Neteyam was the standard. He was the firstborn son of Toruk Makto and the heir to the Omaticaya after all.
In the training ring, he was faster, stronger, and smarter than every other kid his age. He was used to looking back and seeing everyone else trying to catch up. He lived with the heavy weight of expectation, but he carried it easily because he knew, deep down, he was the best.
Then you limped into High Camp.
You weren't Omatikaya. You were a Windtrader, a nomad born to the open skies and shifting trade routes, not the dense and suffocating forest. But you didn't arrive at High Camp with rare beads or woven songs to trade. You arrived with nothing but the blood-stiffened clothes on your back and a survivor's hollow stare.
The Mangkwan or what they also called the Ash People had descended on your caravan like a pyroclastic flow, brutal and silent until the screaming started. You were the only thing that crawled out of that smoke.
When Jake Sully took you in, Neteyam looked at you with that unbearable softness. Pity. To him, you were just a merchant’s child whose wings had been clipped, a broken traveler terrified of the dark. He saw your silence as trauma that needed gentle handling, not the calculating quiet of a predator waiting for the right moment.
He expected to have to teach you how to hold a bow, to slow his pace for the poor wanderer who had lost their way. He thought he was your savior. He had no idea he was looking at a survivor who had learned to fight dirty long before he even learned to fly.
That illusion shattered the first time you stepped onto the sparring mat.
Neteyam had offered to go easy on you. He remembered the look on your face, it wasn't gratitude, but insult. When he lunged, expecting you to cower, you didn't just dodge, you moved with a feral, desperate speed that he had never seen in a structured lesson. You didn't fight with honor or technique, you fought like a survivor. Within ten seconds, the future Olo'eyktan was face-down in the dirt with your forearm crushing his windpipe.
The silence in the camp was deafening. You hadn't just beaten him, you had humiliated him.
From that day on, everything changed. You weren't the charity case anymore, you were the threat. Suddenly, Neteyam wasn't automatically the best archer, because you never missed a shot. He wasn't the best tracker, because you could smell an RDA patrol from a mile away. He stopped looking at you with pity and started looking at you with a burning and obsessive intensity. He trained harder, stayed up later, and pushed himself to the breaking point just to reclaim his spot at the top, but you were always right there, matching him step for step.
He hated it.
You were the only person who didn't treat him like royalty. You rolled your eyes at his orders, you corrected his stance, and you smirked when he missed. You became the grit in his eye, the one variable he couldn't control. The rivalry consumed both of you, bleeding into everything you did until that aggression and need for dominance found a different outlet in the back of a weapons tent.
Now, he doesn't just want to be the best for his father. Instead, he wants to be the best to prove it to you.
The mist clinging to the Hallelujah Mountains hadn't even burned off yet, but the thwack of arrows hitting woven targets echoed through the clearing.
Neteyam stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his posture text-book perfect. He drew the string back to his cheek, exhaled slowly, and released. The arrow flew straight, embedding itself directly in the center of the painted circle.
He lowered his bow, glancing sideways at you with that maddeningly arrogant tilt of his head. "Center mass. Clean kill. That is how you conserve energy."
You were leaning against a rock, chewing on a piece of dried fruit, looking unimpressed. You swallowed and picked up your own bow— a scavenged thing you’d re-strung yourself, rougher than his ceremonial weapon but just as deadly.
"That's how you kill a target that stands perfectly still and waits for you to shoot it," you drawled, stepping up to the line. "But out there? The Sky People don't wait."
"Form dictates accuracy," Neteyam lectured, watching you closely. "If your foundation is sloppy, your shot is lucky. We don't rely on luck."
"Watch and learn, Golden Boy."
Instead of planting your feet like the instructors taught, you broke into a run. You sprinted parallel to the targets, sliding on your knees through the mud. In mid-slide, you twisted your torso, drew, and fired.
The arrow hissed through the air and struck the target— not dead center, but an inch to the right, deep in the 'lung' area. A kill shot.
You stood up, wiping mud off your knees, and smirked at him. "Dead is dead. Doesn't matter if it's pretty."
Neteyam scoffed, walking over to inspect the target. He pulled your arrow out with a sharp yank. "You exposed your back during the slide. If there was a second shooter, you’d be down."
"If there was a second shooter, you’d still be standing in your perfect pose getting shot while I was already moving to cover," you shot back, snatching the arrow from his hand.
"You are undisciplined," he muttered, stepping closer, invading your space under the guise of instruction.
"Your elbow was too high on the draw. You’re going to tear a muscle."
"My elbow was fine," you argued, standing your ground. "It works for me."
"It’s wrong." Neteyam moved behind you, his chest brushing your back. To anyone watching, he was the dutiful squad leader correcting a subordinate. But you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his breath hitched slightly. "Raise your arm. Like this."
He gripped your forearm, his touch firm, sliding up to your bicep. His fingers dug in slightly, a silent reminder of who had pinned whom against the tent pole hours ago.
"You're hovering, Neteyam," you whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "Distracting."
"If you're distracted, you're dead," he murmured into your ear, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave. "Focus."
"Get off of me," you said, shoving him back with your elbow, though there was no real bite in it.
"Hey! Break it up!"
The voice made you both jump apart. Lo'ak came jogging into the clearing, looking between the two of you with a confused frown. He held a basket of fish, looking tired.
"By Eywa," Lo'ak groaned, rubbing his face. "Do you two ever stop? I could hear you arguing from the breakfast fire. 'Your form is bad,' 'You're too stiff.' It’s exhausting."
Neteyam immediately straightened up, the perfect soldier mask sliding back into place. "She refuses to listen to protocol, Lo'ak. Someone has to make sure she doesn't get herself killed."
You rolled your eyes, re-nocking an arrow. "And someone has to make sure your brother doesn't turn into a statue while the war happens around him."
Lo'ak laughed, shaking his head. "I swear, you two hate each other more than we hate the demons. One day you’re going to kill each other."
Neteyam glanced at you. A tiny, imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a secret just for you.
"Maybe," Neteyam said smoothly. "But until then, we train. Again."
He looked at you, his golden eyes challenging. "And this time, try to actually hit the center."
"Make me," you hissed at him, just before loosing another arrow.
The War Tent was stifling, smelling of damp earth and stale smoke. Jake Sully stood over the holomap, the blue light casting long, harsh shadows across his face. You stood in the back, arms crossed, while Neteyam stood right at his father’s elbow, mirroring his stance perfectly.
"We’ve got reports of a supply train moving through Sector 4," Jake said, pointing to a glowing red line on the map. "Neteyam, I want your squad to scout the perimeter. Do not engage. Just eyes on. If the RDA is moving heavy equipment, we need to know."
"Yes, sir," Neteyam nodded sharply. He leaned over the map, tracing a path with his finger. "We’ll take the southern ridge. It provides the best cover from the gunships. We can observe from the high ground and exfil before they scan the area."
It was a safe plan. A smart plan. A textbook plan.
You let out a short, sharp huff of breath. It wasn't quite a laugh, but in the quiet tent, it was loud enough.Neteyam froze. He didn't turn around, but you saw his ears twitch back. Jake looked up, his yellow eyes locking onto yours.
"You have something to say?" Jake asked, his voice neutral but commanding.
"The southern ridge is a wind tunnel this time of year, sir," you said, stepping forward. You ignored Neteyam’s glare burning into the side of your face. "If we take the Ikrans that way, the downdraft will make us fight for stability the whole time. We’ll be loud, and we’ll be slow. If a Sampson patrol catches us there, we’re sitting ducks."
Neteyam turned to you fully now, his jaw tight. "It’s the standard recon route. We’ve flown it a dozen times."
"And the Sky People know that," you countered, meeting his gaze evenly. "They aren't stupid, Neteyam. They predict the 'safe' moves. I say we cut through the Needle hills. It’s tight, it’s dangerous, but the magnetic interference there blinds their sensors. We can get right on top of them before they even know we’re there."
"The Needles?" Neteyam sounded incredulous. "You want to fly a squad through a rock field where one wrong turn means smashing into a cliff? That’s reckless."
"It’s unexpected," you corrected. "Survival isn't about being safe. It's about being invisible."
Silence stretched between you. Neteyam looked like he wanted to strangle you. You looked at Jake.
Jake looked between his son—the careful, burdened heir and you—the survivor who had crawled out of the ashes. He rubbed his chin.
"She's right about the sensors," Jake said finally. He looked at Neteyam. "Take the Needles. But Neteyam leads. You follow his pace. If he says pull back, you pull back. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," you said, a flicker of victory in your voice.
"Sir," Neteyam said stiffly, though he looked like he’d swallowed a rock.
Ten minutes later, outside the tent, the explosion happened.
Neteyam grabbed your arm before you could reach your Ikran, yanking you behind a stack of supply crates, out of sight of the others.
"What is your problem?" he hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You undermine me in front of the Olo'eyktan? In front of the squad?"
"I gave tactical advice," you shot back, wrenching your arm free. "You were walking us into a trap because you’re too afraid to take a risk!"
"I am responsible for their lives!" Neteyam stepped into you, forcing you back against the crates. The gap between you vanished. "I don't have the luxury of playing hero like you do. If I make a mistake, people die. If you make a mistake, it’s just you."
That stung. You barred your teeth, grabbing the front of his vest and jerking him down to your level. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't know I’m expendable compared to the Great Toruk Makto’s son?"
"Stop saying that," he growled.
"Then stop acting like your way is the only way just because you read the manual!" you shouted, then lowered your voice to a harsh whisper. "I’m trying to keep you alive, you idiot. The southern ridge is a kill box today. I felt the wind."
Neteyam stared at you, his chest heaving against yours. The anger in his eyes warred with something else, the realization that you weren't trying to outshine him, you were trying to protect him. It confused him. It made him furious and desperate all at once.
"You are impossible," he breathed.
"And you're welcome," you snapped.
The tension snapped. He grabbed the back of your neck, his fingers tangling violently in your hair, and crushed his mouth to yours. It was an angry, biting kiss, fueled by the adrenaline of the argument and the fear of the mission ahead.
It was a battle for dominance, a way to scream at each other without words. He broke away, gasping, his forehead resting heavily against yours. His eyes were dark, blown wide.
"We take the Needles," he whispered roughly, his voice scraping against the air. "But if you crash, I’m leaving you there."
You smirked, though your heart was racing like a drum. You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, which was swollen from the force of the kiss.
"Deal. Try to keep up, flyboy."
You shoved him back and turned toward your Ikran, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the reins. Behind you, you heard Neteyam take a deep, stabilizing breath before shouting orders to the squad, his voice once again steady, commanding, and perfect.
The mission through the Needle rocks had been a success, but it had been a nightmare. The wind shears were worse than you predicted, and at one point, you had to dive your Ikran vertically between two colliding floating mountains to avoid a gunship scan. It was insane. It was brilliant.
And Neteyam looked like he wanted to kill you.
The moment the squad landed back at the High Camp, amidst the pouring rain of a sudden storm, Neteyam didn't even dismiss the others properly. He barked a generic "Equipment check, then rest!" to the group before grabbing the harness of your vest and practically dragging you toward the secluded overhang where the extra saddles were stored.
He shoved you into the dry space, the sound of the rain roaring outside like a waterfall. It was dark, cramped, and smelled of wet leather and ozone.
"You dove," Neteyam seethed, shaking the water from his hair, his chest heaving. "We said stay in formation. You dove into a blind gap!"
"I saw the scanner!" you yelled back, shoving his hands off your vest. "If I hadn't dove, they would have pinged the whole squad! I saved your ass, Neteyam!"
"You risked the mission on a hunch!"
"I was right!"
"You're a maniac!"
The shouting stopped abruptly as he slammed you back against the rock walls. The anger was still there, blazing in his eyes, but it had mutated. The adrenaline from the near-death flight was vibrating under his skin, seeking an outlet.
He looked at you—wet, defiant, chest rising and falling rapidly—and the restraint snapped.
"I hate you," he growled, his voice dropping into that rough, unrecognizable register.
"Feeling is mutual, skxawng," you hissed.
He didn't need to be told twice. He crashed against you, his mouth capturing yours with bruising force. There was no tenderness, no romance. It was a collision of teeth and tongues, a continuation of the argument by other means. You bit his lower lip hard enough to taste copper, and he groaned, a guttural sound that vibrated against your chest.
His hands were frantic, fumbling with the buckles of your heavy vest. He tore the leather straps loose, not caring if they broke, desperate to get the armor off. As soon as the vest hit the dirt, his hands were on your skin, hot and rough, gripping your waist with enough force to leave marks.
"You think you're so smart," he muttered against your neck, hiking your leg up around his waist. He pressed you hard against the rock wall, the friction of his body against yours sending electricity shooting through your veins. "Always have to be the hero."
"Someone has to be," you gasped, throwing your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. You dug your nails into his back, scraping down the spine. "Since you're too busy following rules."
"Shut up," he breathed, his hand sliding down to the waistband of your loincloth. "I'm going to make you shut up."
"Try it."
He lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your legs tight around him, anchoring yourself.
Then you hissed at him.
He laughed, the sound like honey and venom in your ears, his breath fanning your neck and sending shivers down your spine. "Someone is eager," he purred, lips brushing your skin. His arms tighten like a vice around you, holding you tight. "Already getting the shivers and I've barely touched you."
"Shut up," you snapped, struggling to sound confident and not at all affected by his proximity.
Neteyam kissed you again. His kiss was demanding, hot, and possessive, swallowing your gasp before you can even think of protesting. He pressed you harder against the rock, the rough texture biting into your back, but all you can focus on is the way his tongue teases yours, the way his body pins you in place.
He started to undo your loincloth. His fingers are rough but quick, the knot of your loincloth unraveling easily under his touch. The fabric slips away, leaving you bare against him. His heated skin pressed flush against yours, the teasing friction making your breath hitch.
"Finally," he growled, nipping at your jaw before dragging his lips down your throat.
His touch is both light and maddening, his fingers teasing at your entrance in slow, torturous circles, only to pull away just as you're about to grind into it.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. His fingers trace teasingly, just enough pressure to make you shudder but not enough to give you what you truly crave. "So desperate already."
"Fuck you," you spat.
A sharp grin cuts across his face at your defiance like he was waiting for it.
"Oh?" His voice is pure sin, low and rough as his fingers finally press in, just enough to steal your breath. "That what you want?"
He worked you open slow, deliberate, twisting just there until your hips jerk against him helplessly.
His smirk widens as he feels your body respond, betraying you far more than your words ever could. "Thought so," he murmured, lips grazing your jawline before catching your earlobe between his teeth.
His fingers sink deeper, slow and purposeful, each movement calculated to wring every reaction from you. "You're so fucking tight," he grits out, his own breathing uneven now. His thumb circles your clit, the pressure just shy of cruel, and he watches your face as he does it.
He can read your body like a damn book, every shiver and squirm giving him exactly what he needs to drive you closer to the edge and then pull back just in time.
You let out a whine, hips jerking forward, but before you can even protest, he moved with practiced ease, shifting his own loincloth aside in one smooth motion.
The thick length of him pressed against you, hot and insistent, teasing at your entrance but not giving you what you desperately want.
You hissed again at him. "Stop playing."
"But you look so damn pretty all desperate," he murmured, the words more breath than sound. He rolled his hips again, just enough to make you squirm, his fingers tracing over your waist, your stomach, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Like you'd do anything I asked, right now," he added.
"Fuck," you cussed but finally give in. "Please."
"Since you asked so nicely," he said, the words rumbling through his chest, thick and full of promise, and then he's sliding into you with a harsh breath.
You arched and cried out, fingers digging into the flesh of his back, hips jerking to take him as deep as possible.
You gasped when he moved. The slide of him inside you gave a slow, torturous burn that goes straight to your head. It feels like fire and lightning all at once, sending sparks through your veins, setting you alight from the inside out.
He's everywhere. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, his voice in your ear. You can feel him everywhere, overwhelming all your senses.
But of course, you won't admit it.
"You're terrible," you panted against his skin, moving with him, matching his rhythm instantly. It was a competition, just like the sparring, just like the flying. Who could push harder? Who could last longer? Who would break first?
"And you're loud," he gritted out, his hands tightening on your hips, driving into you with a punishing pace that made your head spin. "Focus."
"I am... focused," you managed to say, though your voice wrecked as he hit a spot that made your vision blur. You bit his shoulder to keep from screaming his name because you refused to give him that satisfaction.
The sound of the rain outside was drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin and harsh, ragged breathing.
He wanted to see you come undone. He wanted to prove that he could control you, even if he couldn't control you on the battlefield.
"Say I was right," he gasped, his rhythm faltering as the edge approached. "Say... the southern ridge... was safer."
You laughed, a breathless, broken sound, tightening your grip on him. "Never."
"Stubborn little slut."
When he finished the insult, he felt your orgasm hit, the pleasure spiking so hard it felt like pain, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rode out the waves.
Then he pulled out, stroking his cock few times before releasing his cum on your stomach.
For a long time, there was only the sound of heavy panting and the rain.
He pulled back, his chest slick with sweat, and looked at you. His hair was a mess, his pupils blown wide. Then, he cleared his throat and stepped back, letting your legs drop. He reached down and picked up his dropped gear, turning his back to you to fix his loincloth.
"Your landing was sloppy, by the way," he said, his voice raspy but returning to that cool, detached tone.
You slumped against the wall, legs shaking, pulling your vest back over your chest.
"And you finish too fast, Sully."
Neteyam whipped around, eyes narrowing, though his ears burned a dark purple. "Watch it."
"Or what?" you challenged, standing up on wobbling legs. "You'll punish me again?"
He stared at you for a long beat, the heat flaring up in his eyes again, before he shook his head and shoved past you toward the cave entrance.
"Get back to the barracks," he ordered over his shoulder, stepping out into the rain. "And don't be late for dawn patrol."
"Yes, sir," you called after him, wiping a smear of his war paint off your cheek.
Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon,SMUT (minors please look away), smoking, drinking
Summary: Smut, fluff, light angst|Amidst the quiet chaos of a summer at the Malfoy Manor, Theo and his ex navigate the tension of unresolved feelings .
Word count: 12109
author's note: This is a bit longer than what I have posted. Honestly I hope you enjoy because I feel like I am bad at writing smut (despite loving to read it).
The fire crackled and hissed as the group gathered around it, the orange glow casting flickering shadows across the sprawling Malfoy gardens. The scent of freshly trimmed hedges mingled with the faint aroma of smoke, the warmth of the flames competing against the cool evening breeze that whispered through the manicured lawns. Laughter echoed through the warm night air, conversations overlapping in a symphony of easy companionship. Astoria leaned into Draco’s side, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they exchanged whispers. Daphne and Blaise shared a bottle of wine, their heads close together, their laughter a soft, musical undercurrent. Pansy was perched on Mattheo’s lap, giggling at something he’d said, her wine glass dangling from her fingers as though she’d forgotten it was there.
And then there was you.
You sat silently in one of the ornate garden chairs, its wrought-iron design digging faintly into your back as you nursed a glass of wine. The firelight danced on the surface of the dark liquid, flickering shadows reflecting your own stormy thoughts. You did your best to appear absorbed in the flames, as though the mesmerising flicker of orange and gold could distract you from the oppressive knot tightening in your chest.But the warmth of the flames did little to thaw the cold discomfort that had taken up residence there.
It had been a mistake to come. You knew that now.
You’d spent the better part of the past week convincing yourself you could handle it—convincing yourself that enough time had passed since your breakup with Theodore Nott, that you could sit across from him and feel nothing. That you could be surrounded by the memory of what once was, of what you’d lost, and still hold yourself together.
You’d been wrong.
Theo sat across from you, lounging with his usual effortless ease. The firelight played in his sharp features, highlighting the angles of his jaw and the unruly strands of dark hair that had always refused to obey him. His long legs stretched out lazily, one arm slung over the back of his chair. Every so often, his gaze would flicker your way, lingering just long enough to send a shiver crawling up your spine, only for you to quickly look away, pretending not to notice. You could feel the intensity of those glances, though, burning as vividly as the flames that cracked and danced in front of you.
The tension between you was suffocating, a silent storm raging beneath the veneer of calm you both pretended to wear. And yet no one else seemed to notice. The couples were too wrapped up in their own happiness, too absorbed in their easy laughter and whispered conversations, to see the battle playing out in the spaces between you and Theo.
Not that the tension was entirely his fault. If anything, it was your own for agreeing to come in the first place. You’d known the risks. But you’d come anyway, clinging to the false hope that you could prove something to yourself—prove you’d moved on. Instead, you were sitting in silence, your heart twisting painfully every time Theo laughed at one of Blaise’s sarcastic quips or leaned back with that maddening smirk.The worst part wasn’t just Theo. It was everything. The whole scene was a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have anymore—what you’d lost not once, but twice.
The couples were like something out of a picture-perfect fairy tale, their laughter and soft touches a sharp contrast to the gnawing ache in your chest. Astoria’s fingers lightly traced patterns on Draco’s arm, her delicate laugh blending seamlessly with his quieter chuckles. Daphne and Blaise were a study in effortless intimacy, sharing quiet jokes you couldn’t hear, their heads so close they might as well have been sharing the same breath. Even Pansy and Mattheo, chaotic as ever, were locked in their own little world, her laugh ringing out as he whispered something in her ear that made her swat his chest.
The breakup with Theo had been bad enough. It had left you raw, hollowed out in ways you hadn’t thought possible. But at least you’d had something to blame then. At least you could point to the fight, the accusations, the heartbreak, and tell yourself it had been inevitable.
But then came the Ravenclaw. The safe, soft-spoken boy who had seemed like the perfect antidote to Theo’s sharp edges and cutting words. The boy who had treated you with kindness, who had said all the right things and made all the right moves, but who had left you with the same emptiness.
“I think you still care about someone else.” he’d said when he ended it, his tone tinged with sadness. “And I think you need to figure that out before you can give your heart to someone new.”
You hadn’t been able to argue with him. You’d known he was right.
And now here you were, back where it all began, surrounded by couples who had figured out how to make it work, while you sat across from the boy who had broken you, pretending you weren’t still in love with him.The fire crackled again, louder this time, a log splitting in two as it fell deeper into the flames. You glanced up instinctively, your gaze colliding with Theo’s.
For a moment, neither of you looked away.
His eyes held yours, icy blue and unreadable as usual, the firelight reflecting in their depths. Your breath caught, and for the briefest second, it felt like the world had gone quiet, like the laughter and chatter of your friends had faded into nothingness. You looked away, breaking the moment before it could shatter you completely. You took a long sip of your wine, forcing yourself to focus on the heat spreading through your chest instead of the ache threatening to overwhelm you.
It was going to be a long two days.
The glass of wine felt heavier in your hand as your mind wandered again, thoughts spiralling down paths you’d tried to block off. You’d kept your breakup with the Ravenclaw—Dennis—a secret from your friends, not wanting to ruin the excitement of finishing school. They had all been so wrapped up in their plans, their triumphs, their relationships. The last thing you’d wanted was to bring them down with your own failures. Besides, it wasn’t like you had the energy to explain it. The breakup had been amicable, sure, but it had left you feeling alone. It wasn’t just the end of the relationship that hurt—it was the reminder of how little you’d truly felt for him, how you’d used him to try and forget Theo, and how much you’d failed.
You barely registered the voices around you until Astoria’s clear, sweet tone broke through the haze of your thoughts.
“Do you have any plans with Dennis this summer, Y/N?”
Your stomach sank at the mention of his name. The fire popped loudly, punctuating the sudden tension that tightened around your chest.
You glanced up, finding all eyes now on you. Astoria’s question was innocent, her gaze curious but kind. It wasn’t her fault, of course. None of them knew. You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck, your throat suddenly dry. You could feel Theo’s eyes on you again, sharp and piercing, but you refused to look at him.
Reluctantly, you forced a smile, doing your best to sound casual. “No.” you said, your voice a little too light. “No plans.”
There was a pause. Then Blaise chimed in, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What, is he too busy nerding out over his books or something?”
You chuckled nervously, trying to play it off. “Something like that.”
But Daphne wasn’t so easily distracted. She leaned forward slightly, her expression soft but probing. “Wait—why not? Didn’t he say he wanted to travel with you this summer?”
The group was silent now, all of them waiting for your response. Even Pansy, who had been laughing moments ago, seemed to have stilled.
You swallowed, the laughter bubbling in your chest too bitter to contain. “Because we’re not together anymore.” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
The reaction was immediate. Astoria’s mouth fell open slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh.” she said softly, her hand instinctively tightening around Draco’s arm.
“What?” Blaise asked, his tone incredulous. “Since when?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Daphne added, her voice gentle but concerned.
You shrugged, forcing a chuckle that sounded too hollow to your own ears. “It wasn’t a big deal.” you lied. “It just… wasn’t working out.”
There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched uncomfortably long. You took another sip of wine, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat.
“Well, good riddance.” Pansy said, breaking the tension with her usual bluntness. “He was too dull for you anyway.”
You couldn’t help but smile faintly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks for that, Pans.” you said dryly.
But you could still feel the others’ concern. Daphne’s worried glances, Astoria’s quiet sympathy, even Blaise’s rare seriousness as he studied you. You hated it. What you hated most, though, was Theo. Or rather, the fact that you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting, as if he could see straight through the flimsy façade you were putting up. You refused to look at him, but you could almost hear the thoughts running through his mind. You could imagine the way his jaw would be tight, the way his fingers would curl into his palm as he tried to stop himself from saying something biting or too honest.
“Honestly, good for you.” Blaise said after a moment, his tone lightening. “Dennis never could keep up with you anyway.”
You chuckled faintly, murmuring a quiet “thanks” before finishing the rest of your wine in one long gulp.
“Well…” Astoria said, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “that just means you’re free to enjoy the summer without any distractions.”
You nodded, forcing another tight smile. But as the conversation shifted, their voices growing louder and more cheerful again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else wasn’t letting the subject go. You risked a glance at Theo then, just for a second. His eyes met yours, and the intensity there made your breath catch. He didn’t look smug or amused, the way he often did when you were forced into the same space. He looked serious. Concerned, even. The knot in your chest tightened as you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on Astoria’s voice. You hated how easily Theo could read you, how he could strip away the carefully constructed walls you’d built without even trying. But more than that, you hated how much you still wanted him to.
You sat up quietly, the ornate chair creaking softly beneath you as you placed your empty wine glass to the side. The laughter and chatter of your friends faded into the background as your fingers slipped into your pocket, fishing out the small carton you kept hidden.
Cigarettes.
It was a habit you had once despised—one of Theo’s worst, in your opinion. You’d argued with him countless times about it during your relationship, hating the smell, the way it clung to him like an unwanted shadow. But now? Now it was a habit you had picked up yourself. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you flicked the lighter, the soft flame dancing briefly before the tip of the cigarette glowed. You inhaled deeply, the familiar burn spreading through your chest, and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl lazily into the night air. It was another secret you’d kept from your friends, like so much else. They didn’t know. They didn’t know about the cigarettes, the way you craved the sharp edge they gave your frayed nerves, the way they dulled the ache that nothing else seemed to touch.
The wine in your veins and the hollowness in your chest made you not give a fuck.
You ignored the glances from the others. Astoria’s subtle frown, Pansy’s raised brow, even Blaise’s brief look of surprise. None of them said anything, though. Perhaps they could sense that this wasn’t the time to pry, or maybe they were just too shocked to find the same girl who used to chastise Theo for his smoking now doing the very thing she’d hated. The only one who didn’t seem remotely surprised was Theo.His gaze locked onto you immediately, his expression unreadable. You felt the weight of it, sharp and piercing, as you took another drag. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, though. You focused instead on the fire, on the way the embers popped and sparked against the night, on the rhythmic rise and fall of your own breath.
But you could feel him watching you. Not with judgement, not with pity, but with something else entirely—something that made your skin prickle and your heart ache all at once.
“Didn’t know you smoked, Y/N.” Blaise finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his words.
You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift away before answering. “There’s a lot you don’t know.” you said simply, your voice calm but distant.
“Clearly.” Pansy chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “What’s next? You’re going to tell us you’ve taken up gambling?”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not yet.” you replied, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.
The group laughed, the tension easing slightly, but the moment didn’t feel any lighter to you. The cigarette burned between your fingers, a bitter comfort, as you leaned back in your chair and stared up at the dark sky.
Theo’s voice cut through the chatter, low and measured. “Thought you hated smoking.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, one laced with an undercurrent of emotion that only you could grasp.
You froze for a heartbeat, the cigarette hovering near your lips, before taking another drag and exhaling slowly. “Things change.” you said quietly, refusing to look at him.
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Theo didn’t push further, but you could feel his gaze lingering, pressing against you like a touch you didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Anyway…” Astoria said brightly, clearly desperate to shift the mood, “Who’s up for another round of wine?”
The others murmured their agreement, the conversation picking back up as the bottle was passed around again. You stayed quiet, the cigarette slowly burning to its end as you stared into the flames.
Across the fire, Theo kept watching you.
As the night deepened, the alcohol began to take its toll. Laughter grew louder, gestures more exaggerated, and the conversations turned increasingly ridiculous. Astoria was the first to start giggling uncontrollably, leaning heavily into Draco as she slurred something about how he was “too perfect for words.” Draco smirked, the kind of self-satisfied grin that only he could pull off, before helping her to her feet.
“Well.” he said, clearly amused, “I think someone needs to call it a night.”
Astoria protested weakly, but her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes betrayed her exhaustion—or at least her inebriation. The two of them disappeared into the house, Draco’s hand resting lightly on the small of her back.
That was all it took for the others to follow suit.
Blaise stretched dramatically, letting out an exaggerated yawn as Daphne rolled her eyes but still stood with him. “Time to get some rest.” he announced, though his smirk told a very different story.
“Rest?” Pansy snorted, clearly not buying it.
“Shut it, Pans.” Blaise shot back, his smirk widening as Daphne tugged on his arm, steering him toward the manor.
Mattheo and Pansy weren’t far behind, though their departure was accompanied by far less subtlety. “Come on, love.” Mattheo murmured, his voice low and suggestive as he lifted Pansy effortlessly off her feet, making her squeal with laughter.
“Absolutely not.” she objected, though her arms were already looping around his neck. “Put me down!”
“Not a chance.” he replied with a grin, carrying her off toward the house without so much as a glance back.
And just like that, the once lively circle around the fire dwindled to two.
You and Theo.
The fire crackled softly, the only sound breaking the stillness that now enveloped the garden. You leaned back in your chair, gripping your empty wine glass as though it might anchor you somehow, your gaze fixed firmly on the dying embers.
You didn’t have to look to know Theo was still there. You could feel his presence, sharp and unavoidable, just a few feet away.
“Guess it’s just us now.” he said, his voice low and even.
You glanced at him, unable to help yourself. He was lounging in his chair, as calm and composed as ever, but there was something in his expression—a flicker of tension that made your chest heave.
“Seems that way.” you replied quietly, your voice carrying a faint edge.
The silence that followed was thick, charged with everything that had been left unsaid between you. The fire burned lower, the orange glow dimming as the night stretched on, and still neither of you moved. You hated this—hated the way he could make you feel so unsteady, so raw, with just his presence. Hated the way your chest ached every time you looked at him, a painful reminder of all the things you’d tried and failed to forget.
But most of all, you hated the way some part of you was glad it was just the two of you now.You sneaked another glance at Theo, only to see him pull a cigarette from his pocket. The motion was unhurried, almost lethargic, as he tapped it against the carton before placing it between his lips.
The faint flicker of his lighter caught your eye, the soft glow illuminating his face for a moment as he lit the cigarette with practised ease. He took a slow drag, the ember flaring bright against the darkness, and exhaled a stream of smoke that curled lazily into the air.
You couldn’t help but watch him. The way his long fingers held the cigarette, the slight tilt of his head as he blew out the smoke—it was captivating in a way you hadn’t expected, your breath catching before you forced yourself to look away.
“Are you going to tell me off for it again?”
His voice broke the silence, low and laced with a faint hint of amusement. You glanced back at him, only to find his eyes on you now, sharp and curious, as if he’d been waiting for your reaction.
You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair. “No.” you said simply.
He raised a brow at that, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Really? No lecture about how it’s a disgusting habit? Or how I’m going to ruin my lungs?”
You met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “I’m not exactly in a position to judge anymore.”
Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your own cigarette and lighter, ignoring the way his smirk faltered slightly. You lit it with a soft click, inhaling deeply before exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
Theo’s eyes widened slightly, the surprise flickering across his face before it quickly vanished, replaced by something more guarded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.
“When did that start?” Theo asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with curiosity.
You shrugged, taking another slow drag of your cigarette. The smoke curled upwards from your lips as you exhaled, your eyes fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. “A short while after we broke up.” you admitted, your tone calm but distant, as if the words didn’t bother you as much as they did.
His brow furrowed slightly at your response, and for the first time that night, the carefully guarded mask he always wore seemed to slip just a fraction. He didn’t respond immediately, instead taking another drag from his own cigarette, his gaze flickering to the fire before returning to you.
“Didn’t think I’d be such a bad influence.” he said finally, his tone dry but lacking the usual sharp edge.
You gave a faint, humourless chuckle. “You weren’t.” you replied simply, tapping the ash from your cigarette. “It wasn’t about you. Not entirely.”
Theo tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Not entirely?” he echoed, his voice low, almost cautious.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you stared up at the night sky. The stars were faint, their light muted by the glow of the fire and the lingering smoke that hung in the air. “It was… everything.” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “The breakup. The mess it left me in. The way it felt like nothing else worked to fill the silence.”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the dying fire crackling between you. You didn’t look at Theo, didn’t want to see the expression on his face. It was hard enough to admit it, to give voice to the hollow ache you’d carried for far too long.
“That’s why you do it?” He asked finally, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Because it reminds you of me.”
The words hit you like a punch to the chest, sharp and unrelenting. You turned to look at him then, your breath catching at the way his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching and raw in a way that left you feeling exposed.
“It’s not that simple.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone softer but still insistent.
You shook your head, turning away again. “No. It’s not.”
Theo leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he studied you in silence. “So why keep doing it?” he asked finally.
You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you took another drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. When you finally spoke, your voice was steady but felt foreign, as though you were speaking about someone else entirely.
“Because sometimes, it’s the only thing that feels real.” you said quietly. “The burn. The taste. The way it makes everything else fade for a little while.”
Theo didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”
The words hung in the air between you, raw and unguarded, cutting through the smoke and silence like a blade. You turned to look at him then, your heart clenching painfully at the way his usual composure seemed to crumble, just slightly, around the edges. For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo looked vulnerable.
“I know.” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “We were both at fault.”
The admission felt heavy on your tongue, but it was true. You’d spent so much time blaming him for the pain, for the fallout, that you’d almost forgotten the ways you had contributed to the mess. The silence, the assumptions, the stubbornness that kept you from reaching out when it mattered most. The stillness that followed was worse than any argument you two had ever had before. Theo looked away first, his gaze falling to the fire as he took another drag from his cigarette. The ember glowed brightly in the dim light, casting a fleeting warmth across his sharp features. And still, neither of you moved to leave.
A burst of laughter carried across the night air, high and distant. You turned instinctively toward the mansion, catching the faint echo of Astoria’s giggles. The soft hum of voices followed, muffled by the grand walls of Malfoy Manor but still audible enough to remind you of what was happening inside. You could picture it vividly and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy twist in your chest. Not at them, not specifically. It wasn’t Astoria or Daphne or Pansy you envied. It was the ease. The simplicity of their happiness. The way they could exist without the weight of the past dragging them down, without the constant reminder of what could have been. And here you were, sulking around the fire with your ex, smoke curling between you like a barrier you didn’t know how to cross. Your attention shifted back to Theo, drawn by the subtle movement of him standing. He stubbed out his cigarette against the armrest of his chair before stepping forward, using his foot to scatter the embers of the fire. The dying glow of the flames cast shadows across his face, emphasising the lines of his jaw and the faint crease between his brows.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice breaking the quiet.
He didn’t look at you, his focus on the fire as he pressed the embers into the dirt. “Putting it out.” he said simply, his tone neutral.
“Because it’s late.” he replied, finally glancing your way. His gaze lingered for a moment, unreadable, before he added, “Why? Would you rather sit out here sulking all night?”
You hesitated, your gaze flicking toward the softly lit windows of the mansion in the distance. The distant giggles and murmurs carried faintly on the breeze, a reminder of exactly what was happening inside.
“Do you really want to go back right now?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.
Theo raised a brow, clearly catching the hint in your voice. “Yeah, why not?” he said, though there was a trace of amusement in his tone. His smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, studying you. “Unless…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air before his eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you jealous, Y/N?”
Your head whipped around, your mouth opening to protest immediately. “Jealous? Of course not.” you snapped, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed you. “Why would I be jealous of… of that?”
Theo chuckled softly, his deep laugh low and knowing as he straightened. “Sure you’re not.”
“I’m not.” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him, though it only seemed to amuse him further.
He took a step closer, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “You’ve got a terrible poker face, you know.”
You sighed heavily, the fight draining out of you as you glanced back toward the mansion. “Fine.” you muttered, reluctantly. “Maybe I am. Just… a little.”
He didn’t tease you this time. Instead, his expression softened, the humour in his eyes giving way to something more understanding.
“Come on.” he said, nudging you lightly with his hand. “We’re going for a walk then.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden suggestion. “What?”
Theo gestured toward the shadowed path that led deeper into the Malfoy gardens. “You’re not going back in there, not like this. And I’m not about to sit around while you mope about whatever nonsense is running through your head.”
“I’m not moping.” you argued half-heartedly, but he was already walking away, his long strides carrying him toward the path.
“You coming or not?” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.
You hesitated for only a moment before sighing and following after him.You walked beside Theo, your hands slipping into the deep pockets of your oversized hoodie as the cool night air wrapped around you. The quiet crunch of gravel beneath your feet filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not yet. Theo glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the stillness.
You frowned, your head turning to him with suspicion. “What are you laughing at now?” you grumbled, your voice carrying more irritation than you felt.
He didn’t respond immediately, his smirk growing as he nodded toward you. “That hoodie.” he said, amusement lacing his tone.
You blinked, looking down at yourself, confused. “What about it?”
“That’s mine.” he said simply, the smugness in his voice unmistakable.
You froze mid-step, the realisation hitting you like a gust of wind. Your heart sank as you recognized the worn fabric, the familiar scent of him that still lingered faintly in the material. You cursed yourself internally for not even thinking about it when you’d grabbed it earlier.
“Shit.” you muttered under your breath, your cheeks heating.
Theo’s chuckle deepened as he stopped and turned to face you fully, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers. “Didn’t think you were so sentimental, Y/N.” he teased, though there was a softness in his tone that you couldn’t quite place.
You glared at him, tugging the hoodie closer around you defensively. “I didn’t even realise, okay? I just… grabbed it.”
He raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you did.”
You sighed heavily, your gaze dropping to the ground. The memory of when he’d given you the hoodie tugged at the edges of your mind, unbidden but vivid. It had been almost two years ago, during a late night in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. You’d been complaining about how cold it was, wrapping yourself in a blanket that didn’t do much to help.
Without a word, Theo had pulled off his hoodie and tossed it to you, muttering something about how you were “hopeless.” You’d teased him at the time, but you hadn’t given it back. And he hadn’t asked for it, either.
Now, standing here in the dark with him staring at you, that memory felt closer than it should.
“You want it back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Theo shook his head, the smirk fading into something softer as he glanced down at the hoodie. “Keep it.” he said, his voice low. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Your heart stuttered at his words, but you quickly pushed the feeling away, rolling your eyes for good measure. “Whatever.” you muttered, shoving your hands deeper into the pockets as you started walking again.
Theo followed after you, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Can’t believe you’ve been wearing it this whole time.” he said, his tone lighter now, teasing but not unkind. “Didn’t think you were the type to hold on to old things.”
“I’m not.” you shot back, refusing to meet his gaze. “I just didn’t feel like wasting money on a new one.”
“Right.” he drawled, clearly not buying your excuse.
The crunch of gravel underfoot filled the silence between you as the two of you walked deeper into the gardens. You could feel Theo’s presence beside you, steady and familiar, but your thoughts were far away, tangled in memories you didn’t want to revisit.
“You gonna tell me about Dennis, or do I have to guess?”
His voice wasow and appeared casual but carried enough weight to make your shoulders tense.
You stopped mid-step, glancing at him with narrowed eyes. “What about Dennis?” you asked, your tone defensive.
Theo shrugged, his hands still stuffed into his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you two aren’t together anymore?” His brow arched slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not exactly subtle back there when you told everyone.”
You rolled your eyes and kept walking, your hands tightening in the pockets of his hoodie. “There’s nothing to tell.” you said flatly.
“Come on, Y/N.” he pressed, his tone softer now, less teasing. “You were with the guy for months. What happened?”
You hesitated, your steps slowing as you debated how much to say. The breakup was still fresh, the wound not quite healed, but there was something about the way Theo asked—genuine, even if his curiosity was layered with his usual smugness—that made you feel like he wouldn’t let it go.
“He ended it.” you admitted finally, your voice quiet but even.
Theo’s brows furrowed slightly as he glanced at you. “Why?”
You let out a soft, humourless laugh, shaking your head as you stared ahead at the shadowed path. “Because he figured out what I was too afraid to admit. That I wasn’t over…” You trailed off, your stomach twisting as the words caught in your throat.
There was a long pause, the kind that stretched uncomfortably but wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Theo didn’t say anything right away, and when you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable.
“Me.” he said quietly, almost like a statement rather than a question.
You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze dropping to the ground as your stomach churned with a mix of frustration and something you couldn’t name. “Don’t flatter yourself, Theodore.” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.
He let out a soft chuckle, but it lacked his usual confidence. “I wasn’t trying to.” he said, his voice low.
Silence fell between you two once again. Theo stopped walking, and when you realised he wasn’t beside you anymore, you turned to face him. His eyes were dark, focused on you in a way that made your chest tighten.
“Did you love him?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. The answer rose in your chest before you could stop it, but it wasn’t one you wanted to give. Finally, you shook your head, exhaling softly. “No.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t.”
Theo’s expression softened slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he nodded. “That’s what I thought.” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You rolled your eyes, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” he said lightly, though his tone carried a sternness you couldn’t ignore. “Just… I always knew you couldn’t fake it.”
His words lingered in the air between you as his gaze held yours. You hated how easily he could read you, how his words had a way of hitting exactly where they weren’t supposed to.
“Dennis is a good guy.” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “He didn’t deserve to be with someone who was only half there.”
Theo tilted his head slightly, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Maybe he didn’t. But that’s not on you, Y/N.”
You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping to the ground as your hands tightened into fists in the pockets of his hoodie. For once, Theo didn’t push. Instead, he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours lightly as he started walking again.
“Come on.” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s keep moving.”
You followed him without a word, the quiet night wrapping around you both as you walked side by side.
You hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence, your voice careful but laced with curiosity. “What about you?”
Theo glanced at you, one brow arching slightly. “What about me?”
“Have you been in a relationship?” you asked, your tone as casual as you could manage. You kept your eyes ahead, pretending you weren’t entirely invested in his answer.
For a moment, Theo didn’t respond, his silence louder than any words.
You pressed on, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. “I mean, I’ve seen you around plenty of girls. But none of them ever seemed to stick. Why is that?”
He let out a soft laugh, though it was more defensive than amused. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “We are in the same friend group, I see it without needing to look.”
Theo’s steps slowed slightly, his gaze falling to the ground as he ran a hand through his hair. For once, he seemed caught off guard, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.
“Maybe I just haven’t found the right person.” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant.
You glanced at him, frowning slightly at the shift in his tone. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” you teased lightly, though the look on his face made your chest tighten.
Theo sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking. “It’s not that simple.” he muttered.
You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Why not?”
He stopped then, turning to face you fully, and for a moment, you swore he looked almost… vulnerable. His usual mask of confidence and indifference had cracked, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something raw beneath the surface.
“Because.” he started, his voice low and hesitant, “nobody else…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the darkness.
“Nobody else what?” you asked softly, your heart pounding as you took a step closer.
Theo exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Nobody else could replace you.” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
The words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. You stared at him, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to process what he’d just said.
Theo’s gaze flicked back to you then, his expression guarded but his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. “Happy now?” he asked lightly, though his voice lacked its usual edge. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”
You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “Theo…”
He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Don’t…” he said, his tone firmer now. “I didn’t say it so you’d feel sorry for me.”
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.
Theo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he started walking again. “Forget I said anything.”
But you couldn’t forget. Theo’s movements were different now. No longer slow and lazy, no longer calculated and confident. His hands shook slightly as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the lighter flaring unsteadily in the dark. The sharp glow lit up his face for a moment, and for the first time that night, he looked completely exposed. Vulnerable. He didn’t say anything as he took a deep drag, but the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers twitched around the cigarette—it was obvious he was trying to hold himself together. But he wasn’t. Not really.Without a word, Theo pushed ahead of you, his strides long and purposeful, the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. He didn’t look back, his shoulders stiff as though bracing himself against something unseen.
You bit your lip, your heart racing as you stared after him. His words still echoed in your mind, raw and unfiltered, unravelling something deep within you.
Nobody else could replace you. You didn’t know how to feel. Guilty? Relieved? Angry? Everything tangled together in a mess of emotions you couldn’t name, couldn’t tame. All you knew was that you couldn’t let him walk away like this.
With a shaky breath, you hurried after him, your footsteps crunching against the gravel. “Theo, wait.” you called, but he didn’t stop.
His shoulders tensed further at the sound of your voice, his hand lifting the cigarette to his mouth for another sharp inhale. The smoke curled around him, a barrier he was trying to erect between you, but you weren’t about to let it stand.
“Damn it, Theodore!” you snapped, reaching for him.
Your fingers caught his arm, and he stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a look that made your breath catch in your throat. His cigarette hung loosely between his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. His eyes were wide, burning with a mix of anger and pain, and something else—something that made your heart flutter. For all his sharp edges, Theo had always been able to hide behind his smirk, his sarcasm, his infuriating charm. But now, all of that was gone, stripped away to reveal the raw truth beneath. He looked… lost.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve been trying to forget. I’ve been trying to move on. But every fucking time, it’s you. It’s always you.”
The words struck you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was the weight of his gaze, the raw vulnerability in his voice, and the ache in your chest that had been growing since the day you lost him. Your gaze dropped to the cigarette in his mouth, the bitter smell of smoke filling the small space between you. Without thinking, you reached up, plucking it from his lips and tossing it to the ground. His eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t stop.Standing on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you, your hands grabbing the front of his shirt as your lips crashed into his. It was intense, all-consuming, every ounce of anger, pain, and longing pouring into the kiss. For a moment, Theo didn’t move, frozen in shock. But then his hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as he kissed you back, his movements desperate, hungry, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had. The world seemed to blur around you, the night fading into nothing as you pressed yourself against him. His lips were warm, familiar, and the way he kissed you—it was like he was trying to say all the things he hadn’t been able to put into words.
I still love you.
The thought crashed over you like a wave, and you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, the ache in your soul finally easing as the walls between you crumbled. Theo’s hands slid up your back, one of them tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours. He kissed you like he was afraid to stop, like he was afraid this moment would slip away if he let go. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as the silence wrapped around you again.
“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat.
“Shut up.” he growled lowly, his voice rough and desperate, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could react, his lips crashed onto yours again, fiercer this time, more demanding.
Your body melted into his, the intensity of the kiss igniting a fire deep within you. His hand tightened in your hair, the other gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Every argument, every hurt, every word you’d left unsaid. Every moment you’d spent trying to forget him, only to fail. It all came rushing back, raw and unrelenting, as if your souls were trying to bridge the chasm you’d created between you.
You didn’t even realise your hands were moving until they slid down his chest, resting on his lower stomach. Theo’s abdomen flexed under your touch, muscles coiling tight as he groaned into the kiss. The sound vibrated through you, making your knees weaken. You clung to him, nails digging into his skin as he pinned you hard against the cold stone wall of the Malfoy manor garden. Your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, curves moulding perfectly as the heat of your bodies merged into one. You felt the thick ridge of his growing erection pressing insistently against your belly, and a needy whimper escaped your throat. Theo broke the kiss, panting harshly as he stared down at you with wild, desperate eyes.
“Tell me you want this.” Theo demanded, his voice ragged and trembling with barely restrained emotion. His hands gripped your waist firmly, grounding you, as though afraid you might slip away before he could hear the answer. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The words weren’t just a demand; they were a plea. His eyes, dark and burning, searched yours with an intensity that left you breathless. Vulnerability hung in the air between you, raw and unguarded, cutting through the desperation like a blade. But you didn’t hesitate.
Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt as you surged forward, wrapping your legs around his waist in one swift motion as you jumped up. He caught you instinctively, his arms tightening around you with a strength that made your heart race. Instead of answering with words, you crushed your lips into his, the kiss fevered and consuming. It was the only answer your brain could come up with, the only way you could convey the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His response was immediate. His hands slid to the curve of your hips, gripping you tightly as he pulled you impossibly close. He kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, like the world might fall apart if he let go. The heat between you was electric, your body pressing against his as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. Every ounce of tension, every unresolved feeling, every unspoken word came pouring out in the way his hands roamed your body, the way his breath mingled with yours.
You gasped softly as his teeth grazed your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips moved to your jawline, then to the sensitive skin just below your ear, his voice a low growl as he murmured, “Say it.”
Your breath hitched, your fingers threading into his hair as your heart pounded in your chest. “Theo…”
“Say it.” he demanded again, his voice rough and desperate, his hands tightening their hold on you.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes locking with his. The raw intensity in his gaze made your knees weak, even as his arms kept you steady.
“I want this.” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “I want you. I am yours.”
Theo's eyes flashed with triumph and relief, his grip on your bare thighs.“Mine.“ He breathed, the single syllable a vow, a declaration, a promise. His hands roamed your body with renewed urgency, caressing, claiming, branding you as his own.Every brush of his fingers ignited something within you, a fire that had been dormant for far too long.
“You have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that.” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
His lips found your collarbone, trailing fiery kisses along the sensitive line as his fingers slipped under the hem of your light summer dress, hidden beneath the oversized hoodie. The fabric bunched beneath his touch as he slid his hands higher, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin of your ass with an aching tenderness that contrasted the raw hunger in his movements.
Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into his hair as you tilted your head back, giving him more access. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like a balm to the wounds you’d both been carrying.
“Theo…” you whispered, his name a plea, a prayer, a surrender.“Not here…”
“You’re right” he breathed his heart pounding with every syllable.
Theodor’s eyes never left yours, their fervour unrelenting as he began moving, his strides purposeful and hurried. The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he carried you through the shadowed garden, the cool night air brushing against your skin where his hands weren’t already burning their way into you.
You barely registered the shift in scenery, too consumed by the heat of his touch, the dizzying press of his body against yours. But when the faint glow of lights from Malfoy manor appeared ahead, reality intruded just enough for you to pull back slightly, your breath coming in gasps.
“What’s your plan?” you whispered, your voice shaky, though not from hesitation.
“To my room here.” he muttered, his voice low and ragged. “I’m not in the mood for the others finding us like this.”
The thought of being caught sent a thrill through you, though you knew he was right. You tightened your arms around his neck, leaning into him as he navigated the winding garden paths. His movements were quick, almost frantic, yet he carried you as though you weighed nothing, his grip on you secure and unwavering.
The glow of the manor grew brighter as he approached, the grand building towering above you like a silent witness to what was unfolding. You couldn’t stop yourself from studying Theo’s face as he walked, the tension in his jaw, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. He looked so different from the Theo you’d known in the past—hardened, raw, but still achingly familiar.
The two of you slipped inside through a side entrance, the cool marble of the manor floor muffling his hurried footsteps. The distant echoes of laughter and conversation from the others reached your ears faintly, but Theo paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.
His lips found your neck as he ascended the stairs, the faint scrape of his teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt once again as he carried you through the hallways with a confidence born from familiarity.
When he finally pushed open the door to his guest room, the soft click of the lock echoed in the quiet space. The moment the door closed, he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as if reluctant to let go.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence charged with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The faint light from the window cast shadows across Theodore’s face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the vulnerability in his eyes that he no longer tried to hide.
“You’re sure?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you met his gaze. “Theodore Nott, I haven’t slept with another man since we broke up. Of course I am sure.” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.
A shaky breath escaped him, and then his lips were on yours again, the kiss deeper, more deliberate this time. His hands slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the tension between you snapped like a tightly drawn string. In the quiet sanctuary of his room, with only the faint moonlight as witness, you allowed yourself to fall completely, surrendering to the moment and to him.
“You haven’t slept with Dennis?” Theo grumbled as he pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes roaming your figure.
You only managed to shake your head as your fingers quickly worked on unzipping your hoodie.
“Good.” Theo growled approvingly, watching intently as you shed your clothes. His own garments joined hers on the floor in a rush of movement, leaving you both bare and wanting. He loomed over you, his muscular frame casting a shadow across your skin, his heavy arousal jutting proudly from between his thighs.
Theodore leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, exploratory kiss. His tongue swept across your mouth, tasting your sweetness, while his hands began to roam your body once more. They traced the curves of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, before sliding down to cup her hips. Gripping you gently, he rolled his pelvis in a slow, teasing circle, grinding his length against your core. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. Breaking the kiss, Theo trailed his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh. Every touch of Theo’s hands felt achingly familiar, yet somehow entirely different. There was a softness to his movements, a deliberateness that hadn’t been there before, as though he was rediscovering you with a reverence that made your heart ache. The way his fingers trailed against your skin, the quiet intensity in his gaze—it was all so electrifying, so much more than you’d remembered. It was as if the time apart had sharpened everything, making each shared moment feel more vivid, more real, more right than it ever had before. Reaching down, Theo guided himself to your entrance, the swollen head of his cock parting your slick folds. With a low groan, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful yet calculated stroke. You moaned out, your back arching off the mattress as you adjusted to his size. Theo stilled, giving you a moment to acclimate, his face a mask of concentration and tenderness.
“Are you okay, amore?” he whispered, his voice low and gentle, cutting through the charged silence like a soothing balm.
The nickname made your cheeks flush, warmth spreading across your face in a way that caught you completely off guard. You’d heard him call you that a million times before, the word slipping so easily from his lips in the past. But now, it felt entirely new. It wasn’t just a word anymore; it was a promise, a reassurance, a reminder of everything that had been and everything that still lingered between you. Theo smiled at your reaction, pleased by the blush staining your cheeks.
“I'm better than okay.” You managed to breathe out, your body shivering as his hands glided over your sides to settle on your hips once more.
“So beautiful…” Theodore groaned softly, punctuating his words with a slow, deliberate thrust, withdrawing almost completely before sinking back into your warmth.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure rippled through you like lightning. Leaning down, Theo captured your lips in another deep, sensual kiss, his hips finding a steady rhythm. As he explored the wet heat of your mouth, his fingers found your nipples once more, rolling and tugging gently until they hardened against his palms. Breaking the kiss, he gazed into your eyes, his own darkened with desire.
“Tell me what feels good, amore.” he urged, his voice a husky whisper, thick with both longing and vulnerability. “Guide me.”
The words sent a shiver through you, not because of their intensity, but because of the way he said them—so raw, so open, as though he was offering every piece of himself in that moment. His gaze held yours, unrelenting yet tender, and you could feel his sincerity settle over you like a blanket. It wasn’t just a plea; it was an invitation, a chance to bridge the distance that had once separated you, to rewrite the way your story had ended. Your heart swelled at the raw emotion in his words, your own vulnerability mirroring his. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until your foreheads touched.
“Touch me.” you whispered breathlessly, your breath mingling with his.You guided his hand lower, to where your bodies were joined, urging him to experiment, to explore the sensitive places only he knew. As his fingers danced over your clit, you bucked your hips against him, a low moan escaping your lips.
“That's it, don’t stop… please.” you panted, your hips rocking in time with his. Theo obliged your pleas, his touch growing more confident, more insistent, driven by your pleas and the desperate need burning within him.
Theodore’s touch was like lightning, electrifying and all-consuming, igniting a fire under your skin that you hadn’t known could burn so brightly. Every brush of his fingers, every deliberate movement sent waves of pure ecstasy coursing through you, leaving you breathless and weightless all at once. It wasn’t just the sensation—it was the way he made you feel cherished, like every part of you mattered in a way that was almost overwhelming.
Theo's fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit, each stroke combined with his harsh thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He watched you closely, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin, your parted lips, your wild hair splayed across the pillow.
“You feel so good.” he breathed, his own arousal throbbing inside you in time with your quickening heartbeat. “I want to see you lose control, Y/N.” As if to prove his point, he increased the pressure, rubbing firm circles around your sensitive nub, his thrusts becoming harsher, deeper, needier. Your back arched off the bed, a high-pitched whine tearing from your throat as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you.
“Don't stop, Theo.” you begged, your voice a ragged whisper.
A tidal wave of pleasure bubbled inside you, building with an intensity that was almost too much to contain. Every moment, every touch, sent it climbing higher, threatening to overflow and consume you completely. It was overwhelming in the best way—like you were teetering on the edge of something profound, a rush of warmth and light ready to break free. Your heart raced, your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the sheer bliss of it all, letting it wash over you like a sunrise breaking through the darkness. For Theo, the pleasure wasn’t just in the moment—it was in you. Every expression of pleasure, every soft sound you made under him, every way you moved drew him in deeper, until he was utterly consumed. It bubbled inside him like a fire threatening to escape, an immense, overwhelming rush that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in so long. The way you looked at him, the trust in your eyes as he made love to you, made it all the more intense. His chest tightened, his breath catching as the sensation surged, flooding him with a kind of bliss he never thought he deserved but couldn’t bear to let go of. With a growl of primal satisfaction, Theo slammed into you one final time, grinding his pelvis against yours as he reached his peak. The sensation of his release triggered your own climax, your body seizing up as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name,not caring who would hear, your voice hoarse with ecstasy, as you clung to him desperately, your nails raking down his back. Theo collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.
For a long while, you lay entwined, your hearts pounding in perfect sync, the rhythm of your breathing gradually steadying as the world around you faded into stillness. The only sound was the soft, shared cadence of your breaths, filling the quiet room with a soothing, unspoken connection. It was as though the world beyond these walls had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you suspended in this fragile, perfect moment.
Finally, Theo lifted his head, his captivating blue eyes locking onto yours with a look so full of tenderness, that made you fall for him once again. There was no smirk, no guarded expression—just pure, unfiltered emotion, the kind that made you feel as though he was seeing straight through to the deepest parts of you. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight, hesitant even, as though he feared you might vanish if he held on too tightly.
“I missed you… I missed this.” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, as though the words themselves were sacred.
His gaze searched yours, desperate, almost pleading, as though he needed to know you felt the same. His words struck something deep within you, breaking open the dam you hadn’t even realised you’d built. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, grounding him as much as yourself.
“I missed you too.” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “More than I ever let myself admit.”
Theo closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath as though your words had lifted some unbearable weight from his chest. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart stutter.Slowly, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, the closeness bringing a sense of calm that felt unshakable.
“I’m not letting you go again.” he murmured, the words a vow, raw and unyielding. “Not this time. Not ever.”
~~~
The soft golden light of morning spilled through the curtains, casting long, gentle streaks across the room. The quiet hum of the world waking up outside was barely audible, muffled by the stillness that lingered within these walls. You stirred slowly, the comforting warmth wrapped around you relaxing you before you even opened your eyes. It took a moment for the memories of the previous night to settle, but when they did, your heart fluttered with a mix of emotions—love, relief, and something that felt a lot like hope.
Beside you, Theo was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. You turned your head slightly, your gaze falling on him. His face was relaxed, his features softer in sleep, free from the guarded scowl he so often wore. You watched him for a moment, taking in the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand rested lightly on the bed between you, as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to be far from you.
It was strange—comforting, even—how natural this felt, as though the rift that had once separated you was a distant memory, something you both had decided, consciously or not, to leave in the past.For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth that spread through you like the sunlight outside. You let out a soft sigh, the sound barely breaking the stillness, and closed your eyes again, savouring the moment for just a little while longer.
Eventually, you sat up slowly, careful not to wake Theo as you turned to look at him properly. You traced the lines of his jaw with your eyes, the faint shadow of stubble there, the soft curve of his lips. His lashes were long, darker than you’d remembered, and they brushed lightly against his skin. Leaning in slowly, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your lips barely brushing his skin. He stirred slightly, a soft humm escaping him as he began waking up.
“Sleep a little longer.” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as though afraid to disturb the fragile tranquillity of the moment.
Carefully, you slipped out of bed, doing your best to keep your movements quiet. The floor was cool beneath your feet as you tiptoed across the room, gathering your scattered belongings and slipping into the oversized hoodie you had worn last night.
The manor was quiet as you made your way back to your own guest room, the only sounds around you being the faint creaks of the wooden floorboards and the distant chirping of birds outside. Your heart raced with every step, half expecting someone to catch you in the hallway, though it seemed most of the house was still asleep.
When you finally reached your room, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the door for a moment to steady yourself. The memories of the night before rushed back in vivid detail, and you felt your cheeks flush as you hurriedly changed into fresh clothes.
By the time you made your way to the dining room for breakfast, the warm scent of coffee and pastries filled the air. The table was only partially occupied—Astoria and Draco sat close, whispering and smiling, while Blaise and Daphne were still nursing cups of tea, their expressions relaxed but tired.
You slid into a chair quietly, keeping your movements casual as you poured yourself some coffee. You could feel their gazes on you, especially Astoria’s, her sharp eyes studying you with a hint of curiosity.
“Morning.” Blaise said, his voice smooth but tinged with amusement. “You’re up early.”
You shrugged, keeping your tone light. “Couldn’t sleep.” you lied, reaching for a slice of toast. “Figured I’d get a head start.”
Astoria raised a delicate brow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” she repeated, her tone light but teasing.
You avoided her gaze, focusing on spreading jam over your toast. “Something like that.” you said, hoping the flush in your cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
Draco smirked from his seat beside Astoria but said nothing, his gaze flickering briefly toward the doorway as though expecting someone else to join the table. You forced yourself to act as if nothing had happened, though the events of last night lingered in your mind, a secret you weren’t ready to share. As you sipped your hot coffee, you couldn’t help but wonder how long Theo would sleep—and how long you could keep this new shift between you hidden.
The quiet hum of breakfast was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by Pansy’s unmistakable voice cutting through the air.
“Well, well.” she drawled, her tone teasing as she swept into the room with Mattheo trailing lazily behind her. “Looks like some of us managed to survive the night without too much trouble.”
Mattheo yawned loudly, ruffling his already messy hair as he flopped into a chair with all the grace of a toppled tower. “Speak for yourself.” he muttered, reaching immediately for the coffee. “I’m still half-dead.”
Pansy rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, sliding into the seat beside him with her usual flair. Her sharp gaze scanned the table, pausing briefly on you before moving on. You kept your expression neutral, biting into your toast to avoid meeting her eyes.
“Where’s Theo?” Mattheo mumbled, his voice muffled by the mug he was now sipping from.
Draco’s smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you for the briefest moment before returning to his plate. “Probably still asleep.” he said casually, though the slight edge of amusement in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.
Astoria hid a smile behind her teacup, while Daphne exchanged a knowing glance with Blaise. Blaise leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening as he lazily stirred his tea.
“Or recovering.” Blaise added, his tone light but unmistakably suggestive. “You know Theo—he likes to keep himself busy at night.”
You nearly choked on your coffee, the cup clinking awkwardly against the edge of your plate as you set it down a little too quickly. Your cheeks flushed a deep red, and you kept your eyes firmly on the table, refusing to look at anyone.
Astoria let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Really, Blaise?” she chided gently, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
“Just saying…” Blaise said with an exaggerated shrug, his gaze darting briefly to you before turning back to his tea.
Before you could recover, Mattheo yawned loudly once again, ruffling his messy hair as he leaned back in his chair. “Don’t blame the guy.” he drawled, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Theo works hard when he’s… motivated.”
Pansy snorted, her sharp eyes darting between you and the others. “Motivated, huh?” she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. Her gaze settled on you, her brow arching slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Y/N?”
Your head shot up, your wide eyes meeting hers as your face burned hotter. “Of course not.” you stammered, but the unconvincing tone of your voice only seemed to amuse them more.
Draco chuckled, his smirk widening as he gestured with his fork. “Relax, Y/N.” he said smoothly. “They’re just teasing.”
Pansy leaned her chin on her hand, her smile sly. “Are we?” she mused, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
You groaned inwardly, picking up your coffee mug again in a vain attempt to hide behind it. Their teasing was almost unbearable, but even as you tried to brush it off, you couldn’t help but think of Theo and the events of the night before.
As if on cue, the door creaked open, and the unmistakable sound of Theo’s footsteps filled the room. He appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep. His shirt was rumpled, and the faintest shadow of stubble clung to his jaw, making him look far more casual than usual.
You froze, your stomach flipping as his gaze swept across the table before landing on you. But unlike you, Theo looked entirely unbothered, even amused, by the attention.Without hesitation, he strode over to you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders as he leaned down, pressing lazy, sleep-warmed kisses along your neck. The brush of his lips sent a shiver racing through you, and your cheeks flushed once again as the entire table fell into stunned silence.
“Didn’t see you in bed this morning.” he murmured, his voice husky and teasing, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Missed waking up next to you.”
Your face burned hotter than the sun, and you heard the faint sound of stifled giggles around the table. You didn’t dare look up, knowing you’d find Pansy’s smirk and Draco’s raised brow.
Blaise, of course, couldn’t resist. “Well, well, Theo. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.” he quipped, his grin practically oozing mischief.
Theo straightened, his hands sliding off your shoulders as he fixed Blaise with a pointed look. “And I didn’t know you were so interested in my love life.” he retorted smoothly, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge that made Blaise hold his hands up in mock surrender.
“Fair enough.” Blaise said, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair.
Theo moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, taking a slow sip before glancing back at you. “Come on.” he said casually, tilting his head toward the door. “Join me for a cigarette. It’s too early to deal with this lot.”
The invitation was so nonchalant, so unapologetic, that you could only nod silently, sliding out of your chair as the others exchanged amused glances.
Pansy’s voice followed you as you headed for the door. “Don’t take too long, lovebirds!”
You ignored her, keeping your head down as you followed Theo out into the garden, your cheeks still burning. The cool morning air brushed against your skin, soothing the heat in your face, and for the first time that morning, you found yourself smiling faintly despite the chaos inside.
Theo led you to a quiet corner of the garden, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a practised flick of his lighter. You did the same, the faint orange glow of the cigarettes matching the warmth of the rising sun.
He leaned back against the stone wall, his gaze fixed on you with a sleepy fondness that made your heart skip a beat. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he leaned in to kiss you. It was slow, unhurried, and achingly tender, his lips lingering on yours as if savouring every second.
The peaceful silence was broken by faint voices drifting from the direction of the house. You could just make out Astoria’s unmistakable tone, laced with triumph.
“Told you they’d end up back together.” she said smugly.
“Oh, shut up.” Daphne groaned. “I’ll get you your galleons after breakfast.”
Theo pulled back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “They’re such goons.” His voice was soft and teasing, the words accompanied by the faintest smirk.
You laughed quietly, your forehead pressing against his as you shook your head. “They really are.”
For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, wrapped in the quiet morning air, the world around you fading into the background. Whatever came next, whatever teasing or chaos awaited inside, it didn’t matter. Right now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.
Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡
Im BEGGING so hard they make Rarry happend (rafe and Barry) BECAUSE LIKE EVEN THE CAST SHIPS ITTTT
IM THE BIGGEST RARRY SOLDIER ON EARTHHHHH I LOVE THEM SM LETS DISCUSS THEM.
The thing is that if one of them was a girl everyone in the fandom would go insane over them, but since they are boys it probably won’t even happen.
THESE ARE NOT‼️ PLATONIC LOOKS. The eyes, chico, they never lie
Topper is me asf
They would literally make so much sense. The thing is Barry is so special to Rafe in so many ways. Notice the way Rafe lets Barry talk to him (sassy, making fun of him, Barry literally going “let me lead and SHUT UP” and Rafe just going “ok🥰”, Barry going “I’ll knock that J-Crew lookin ass out” and Rafe just smirking and blushing). Rafe would NOT let people speak to him the way he lets Barry speak to him… like ever 😭 Also when Barry told him he’ll lead it was when they went after the Pogues and it’s something Rafe very much cared about. HE’S A PROACTIVE TYPE OF PERSON, he would not let someone he doesn’t 100% trust “lead,” he’s a control freak. Yet here he was, just going “okay,” trusting Barry with something so important to him.
Barrys presence is so important in Rafes life and I feel like neither of them really realises but it genuinely is. RAFE ALWAYS RUNS TO BARRY FIRST. He would NOT let anyone know he killed Peterkin (Topper and Kelce are his closest friends and he’d never tell them), yet here he was on Barrys floor, confessing to him, allowing him to see his breakdown AND —
BRO DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS SCENE OMFG —
He slept AT BARRYS when he had probably the worst day ever (Ward screaming “Rafe you fucked us!” at him, him drowning Sarah and Topper beating him up happened in the same day) and the next scene we get is Rafe waking up on Barrys couch. I imagine him going into absolute panic in the middle of the night and not wanting to go home to his dad, the only place he can think of being Barrys… so he goes to Barry. We were so, so robbed of a scene where Rafe shows up in the middle of the night saying “I didn’t know where else to go” with a beat up face and Barry going “Shit, country club.”
I’m just convinced Rafe felt safe enough with Barry so he always ran to him.
Their first meeting in S3 as well. I’m pretty sure that was the first time they saw each other since Barry betrayed him in S2 and Rafe was just okay and calm and ASKED BARRY FOR HELP AGAIN. Rafe holds grudges like crazy, yet he trusted him enough after his betrayal to seek him out again. Like nothing ever happened. And Barry helped him again. Because Barry always helps him (he claims it’s just for the money but the thing is he was willing to murder for Rafe and that is not something he was comfortable with the entire show, I’m genuinely convinced he would not accept that offer from anyone, murder being over the line for him… yet for Rafe? Yeah).
We could see Barry being uncomfortable by Rafes murderous temptations in a few scenes (especially the one where he tried to drown Kie), but the second Rafe asked him to kill Ward he was like ALRIGHT I’LL DO IT FOR YOU. Also Rafe was so hyperfixated on his dad, it was the most important person in the world to him, so him asking Barry to do it just shows the level of trust. He asked Barry to free him of this burden.
Also Barry DOES NOT do it only for the money. In Season 2 when Rafe comes over to pick up his drugs and asks Barry for “a piece” (a gun), Barry giggles and makes jokes UNTIL Rafe says “Do you realise it’s either me or him (John B) in this situation, right?” and in that very moment Barry switches and goes full angry protective mode and pulls out an entire bag full of guns 😭 And is fully ready to go with Rafe and to protect him and shoot a Pogue for him. But Rafe did not ask for help. He didn’t offer him money. He just asked for a gun. Barry did all of that on his own and he went with him on his own. I think that’s also why Rafe told him “You know I’ll take care of you,” he himself was surprised someone was willing to protect him and go with him out of their own free will.
At the end of S1 Barry went with Rafe after the Pogues because they owed him money, but he still handled Rafes mental breakdown pretty well (NO other character ever managed that, not even his family), he cracked some jokes and got Rafe out of the panic state by motivating him to go do something about it, and joining him.
Also the shit they say to each other…
“You know I’ll take care of you.”
“I own you now.”
“Tranquilo?”
“Tranquilo, baby.”
Barry casually saying “How does that feel, babyboy?” in S1
THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER?!
Nice try mf I know love eyes when I see them
Another thing is their dynamic is absolutely perfect. Rafe, a bit psychotic, always taking everything seriously, grumpy asf and Barry, sassy mf that takes nothing seriously and is quite literally the only person that knows how to handle Rafe and how to talk back to him.
PLUS the actors shipping them is so wholesome and funny tbh (at least we won’t have another Jiara accident uhm…)
They also ADMITTED VERY PROUDLY that they send Rarry edits to each other 😭 “You know, whenever I miss Drew we’ll run back the tiktoks” dnsjskks
Drew literally going “Nick Cirillo who plays Barry in the show, my right hand… also my lover”
That’s boyfriends right there
One more thing I’d like to add is Barry was so judgy of Ward when he came to see Rafe (in S2 right before Rafe tried to run away and Ward came to warn him from the police), now it might be because Ward beat him up in S1 orrrrrr because he simply saw Rafes state (Rafe probably told him that his dad yelled at him that day when he slept over) and didn’t like his dad a single bit. I choose to go with the protective bf option.
Again, if one of them was a girl it would be one of the most popular ships just bc of their dynamic and banter and chemistry (JJPope situation all over again).
I hope Drew and Nick manage to sneak in a little bro kiss in some of the upcoming seasons (like that scene from Deadly Class when Marcus is randomly bro kissed), feel like it’s something they would 100% do 😭… Imagine drunk Barry going “Country cluuubbb, mwah” and Rafe just 🧍🏻
And I’d love to continue with more pics and edits but Tumblr won’t let me add more so we’ll end it here.
But they genuinely mean the world to me. I think a lot of people are shipping them as a joke but I’m IN LOVE with their ship and dynamic and the bond between them.
First time telling Rafe that you love him after a panic attack caused by Ward
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He’d come to your house, all soaked from rain head to toe but you could still tell his face was wet for a completely different reason, his eyes bloodshot from crying and pupils blown from drugs.
“Hey,” he managed to mumble and you took him in immediately, he hugged you tight, crushing your small body in his large arms, his nose burried into your neck, small sobs escaping him.
You’d be the only person he’d open up to. Ever.
He’d cry and sob and shake and tell you how much of a failure he is, how he let his dad down again, how he only fucked things up, how useless he was and you’d tell him he was perfect in your eyes and how happy you were that he was in your life.
“I don’t deserve you…” he’d mumble after a long time of him sobbing into your shirt.
“You do. You always have, Rafe,” you ran your hand down his back, “you need to change, or you’ll get sick.” You mumbled and tugged on his wet clothes.
You gave him his old shirt and shorts that you kept a long time ago. Later that night you’d force him to eat something and drink a lot of water (it helped with the withdrawal), you’d sit in his lap and allow him to just wrap his arms around you and breathe and kiss your neck.
You eventually got to bed, made out for a while and told him to get some much needed sleep, both your arms and legs wrapped around his body and your steady breathing brushing against his shoulder.
“Do I scare you?” He asked out of nowhere, leaving the worry to float above both of you in the dark.
You supported your body weight on your elbow, looking at him, at least trying to in the black room.
“I love you,” you mumbled ever so gently, running your fingers through his hair, hoping that was enough of an answer. Rafe froze for a second, but before you knew it he pulled you in by squeezing your neck, kissing you hungrily, passionately.
“I…” he mumbled between kisses, biting your lips in the process, “love you too. S’ much.” He admitted out loud.
You giggled and his stomach twisted, kissing you again and again and again and then your collarbone and neck. He’d never thought he’d be saying these words out loud ever. But here you were, making his head dizzy.
I love you, I love you, I love you, he repeated as he kept kissing and biting your skin.
If JJ dies (which we don’t know for sure, don’t believe everything on the internet ya’ll, especially from a random anon account) please PLEASE for the love of GOD don’t suddenly make Riara happen. I will genuinely lose it. Season 1 John B/Pope, season 2 Pope, season 3 JJ and then at some point Rafe too? Fuck no.
Kiara doesn’t have to go through every male character each season… 😀
Sofia is cool. Let him be happy with Sofia and that’s it (they’re making her a series regular so there’s that, I don’t even ship them but it’s pretty obvious that the plan is to have him be with Sofia). I cannot even begin to describe how much I hate Riara with a burning passion ya’ll.
omg imagine s1 rafe bringing sweetheart!pogue!reader to his partay and she is like watching him do coke n stuff. idk theyre so different
warnings: drug use, suggestive ending
a/n: i’m imagining mean!s1!rafe who just loves to have pogue!sweetheart!reader around because they’re polar opposites and he needs the balance lol. this prompt is to die for, thank you anon <3
to say you felt out of place would be an understatement. you didn’t go to parties, you didn’t drink, and you certainly didn’t do any kind of drugs, yet you found yourself in the lap of the one person who did all three. “why are you so quiet, baby? you shy?” rafe ran a palm up and down your thigh, the feeling of his breath fanning against your skin bringing butterflies to your tummy. you smiled softly, shaking your head. “no.. s’just not really my scene.” you whispered.
rafe tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, kissing you deeply before he pulled away. “ i know, i know. we’ll ditch this shit and go up to my room in a few minutes, how does that sound?” his bloodshot eyes met your sober ones. you smiled softly, nodding. “yo’, rafe!” you looked up at topper, the boy flashing you a smile before dropping a small baggy in rafe’s hand. “you gotta get in on this shit, man. kelce said it tastes like candy.” you swallowed thickly, watching as rafe grabbed the rolling tray from the coffee table in front of him.
“are you okay if i do this?” he turned, noticing the way your eyebrow creased in worry. you weren’t fond of the fact that rafe used, but he was a good person with a good heart. at least you thought so. the last thing you wanted to do was point out his mistakes and lecture him as if he wasn’t a grown man who could make his own decisions, so you settled for a quiet; ‘yeah, it’s okay.’ before resting your head on his shoulder. he pressed a kiss to your knuckles before emptying the bag, using a credit card to formulate a perfect white line.
the gold ring on rafe’s finger glinted under the soft light of his home, the sight catching your eyes before you watched him snort up the blow. you couldn’t deny the ‘off’ feeling you got witnessing the way his eyes glazed over when the whole room erupted in cheers, a couple of girls glaring at you from a distance. rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, taking a swig of whatever alcohol he had in his cup. “alright, her turn.” topper came to you with another baggy, rafe immediately pushing his friend away.
“she doesn’t do this shit. leave her alone.” sensing the energy shift, everyone quieted down, now dispersing from the table as rafe rubbed circles into your skin. “wanna get out of here?” he stroked your cheek, finding the liquor on his breath weirdly comforting. “please?” that one word was all you had to say before rafe carried you upstairs bridal style. “you look like a doll in this dress, you know that? all pretty for me..” you giggled at his words, biting your lip once you heard the lock to his bedroom door click.
Rafe has a thing for hickies. No, actually he’s obsessed with marking you up. Always making sure your neck, chest, stomach, thighs and breasts are covered in his bites.
And he loves that you can’t always hide them. How could you, in the hot OBX weather. You eventually get used to it.
He loves it when guys stare at them, his love bites on his girl. He loves it when you scold him after a heated make-out session and wince when you run your fingers over them.
And not just hickies. He has a thing for every visible mark on your or his body. Your scratches on his back. Your bruised knees. Sometimes he’ll just bite down on your arm or shoulder while you’re messing around because why not?
Your bruised wrists from him holding your hands above your head a little too hard, marks from where his hand squeezed your flesh too much. His swollen lips from how much you kissed him.
i imagine most of these would go to close friends 😭 also i’m literally addicted to looking up drews pics and making up little scenarios w rafe in my head ugh send help
You woke up not feeling like your usual self, it's been a long time since you've done something with your hair or went to get your eyebrows done, sticking to basic skin-care for a while now.
Best bet Rafe is not gonna let your quiet "I feel like shit," slide, he asks why, baffled because to him, you're the hottest girl in the world, but gets out of bed anyway, telling you to get dressed and tell him where you want him to take you first as he's cancelling his business meeting for today.
You're chuckling as he's driving you to your favorite place to get your eyebrows waxed and get an eyelash lift (he doesn't really know what that is... but anything to make his girl happy), he sits down in the waiting room and deals with some e-mails while you follow the nice lady inside. She waxes your eyebrows and chats with you while she works on your eyelashes, complimenthing their length.
Rafe gives you a smile when you walk out and wink at him multiple times, showing off your lashes, your mood being a lot better already. He wraps his arm around your waist, squeezing you gently as he pays the lady with his black card, leaving a tip for being so nice to his precious baby.
He drops you off at your favorite hair salon, knowing damn well hair will take a lot of time and no chance in hell he's gonna sit around. "Get anything you want baby, alright?" He hands you his card and kisses you on the lips, loving to see you so giddy and excited.
You end up getting a hair cut, new layers and a new fresh color, not too drastic of a change but noticable enough to make you feel so much better. Your hair looks amazing, it always does leaving the hairdresser, so smooth and healthy, bouncy and they always give you the perfect blow-out. You already feel confident walking over to Rafes car.
"Hey there," he mumbles and hands you a cup of coffee that he got you on his way here and wraps a strand of your hair on his finger, smirking. He's so wrapping your new hair around his hand tonight... "lookin' gorgeous," he mumbles and you lean in to give him a kiss.
"Thank you, Rafey."
"Mhm," he mumbles and pulls you closer, making out with you for a worth while.
He finally pulls away after a moment, his lips all puffy from how much you kissed him, and he runs his hand through your hair, not able to stop touching it. "Wanna get your nails done?" He asks, ready to provide anything you want today.
"Yeah," you blush, still a bit shy to ask for something from him. "Wanna pick the color for me?"
"Mhm, sure." He taps your thigh when he starts driving, thinking about it for a moment.
"Blue?"
"I knew it," you chuckle.
"How?"
"Guys always pick blue," you giggle again and he frowns, not happy with that. He won't be like guys, so he grunts and suggests red and white, proud of himself that he picked two colors. He loves you in red anyway. Fuck blue.
Rafe tells you to go ahead and that he'll be there before you're done.
You are treated so nicely at the salon, the guy doing your nails offers you wine, the place smells so nice, clearly luxurious, their chairs are covered in red velvet, comfy. You are almost done with your set when Rafe walks in, a little bag in his hand, walking over to you and looking at your nails over your shoulder, kissing the top of your head and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, holding you and allowing you to rest your chin on his arm as you to lean into him, clearly getting the need to show off that you're his girlfriend the second he saw the guy.
"You like them?" You look up at him and show him your free hand, Rafe kisses your knuckles gently, avoiding the fresh nail polish.
"Mhm, love them baby." He whispers and you notice the man doing your nails straightening. Rafe stays there like a guard dog, his arm wrapped around your neck and shoulders the entire time.
He pays for you, holding your hand and brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you both leave.
"What'cha got there?" You giggle, leaning over him to steal a look at the bag but he shushes you and pulls you away by your waist, his grip so firm it sends shivers down your spine.
"Don't be noisy," he smirks and you scoff, which earns you a squeeze on your hip.
The sun is setting when he leads you to his car again, you smile and just pull on his hand. "Rafe," you stop him for a second and he turns around, worry evident in his eyes.
"Yeah? What's wrong?" His hand cups your face immediately and you just admire how pretty he looks in the golden hour.
"Nothin’, just... thank you." You smile up at him and he grins, pulling you closer.
"Anytime, princess." He purrs softly and leans down to kiss you. You once again make out for a while, his hands roaming your hips and yours wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you.
He wanted to wait a little, but you also look stunning to him right now, looking up at him with your big eyes like he’s your entire world, so he rolls his eyes playfully and offers you the bag, kissing your forehead. “Open it.”
“For me?” You place your hand on your chest dramatically and he bites your cheek in return, eager for you to open his gift.
You pull out the small box, opening it and you stare at the silver bracelet covered in gems and heart detailing. “It’s… wow,” you breathe out, taking it into your hand and taking a proper look, some of the diamonds reflecting the sun.
Rafe smiles and gently takes it from your hand to put it around your wrist, taking a look at it in the sun himself once he does so. “Thank you, baby.” You finally say, looking up at him with watery eyes. What did you ever do to deserve him?
“I love you,” he huffs and leans in for another kiss, this one gentle, soft, slow. You kiss him back, holding his face between your hands.
“I love you too. So, so much.” And Rafe’s just happy to hear that, happy to be the provider and to be appreciated for it. It’s all he needs back from you.
You don't ask him for anything else, but you notice that he's driving in a different direction than Tannyhill. “Where are we going?" You ask as you lean into the seat.
"Gettin' you new clothes, baby," he mumbles as if that's the most obvious thing in the world and you want to refuse but he gives you this look that clearly indicates his mind is already made up and you're not doing anything about it.
You walked around the mall, trying all sorts of skirts and dresses, and Rafe followed behind you, usually dragging you into the more expensive stores 'cause you wouldn't go there yourself.
He got you some tops and skirts but you were still looking for a dress you’d like enough.
He liked you in anything, so he said you should get whatever you were currently trying on, but you just chuckled and said no. He honestly loved it, what a great idea to have a treating my favorite person in the world day, he could just sit down and stare at your body over and over again as you tried on different stuff.
"I love this," he mumbled as he got up, not resisting the urge to wrap his hands around you when you tried on a tight velvet dress with a slit at your thigh, "you look so fucking hot," he exhaled and kissed your neck gently, nibbling and brushing his teeth against your skin.
"Mhm," you arched your back, leaning into him and he let out a quiet groan.
"We're gettin’ this one." He decided and you giggled, nodding, taking it off, but Rafe stepped in front of you. "Wait, lemme help," he mumbled, eager to get it off you later again. He helped you strip, grabbed the dress and another sun dress you tried on earlier that he loved as well.
You wrapped your hand around his bicep, yawning when you finally left the mall and made your way over to his car for the last time today. Rafe chuckled and placed your bags in his car before opening the door for you. "Tired from doin' nothin', baby?" He teased you and leaned over the car door to kiss you before you got in.
"Tryin’ on clothes is exhausting, you know?" You joked back and he grinned.
"Wanted to take you to dinner, but—“
"Rafe I'm really tired," you said softly, still grateful for the thought.
"I know, me too," he grabbed your hand into his. "We'll grab food on our way, yeah? What are you feelin'?”
"Dunno," you mumbled and closed your eyes, your hand playing with his fingers. "Chinese?"
"Alright," he agreed and grabbed the food in a drive through and finally drove you both back to Tannyhill.
You both sat down on a couch to eat and let some random sitcom play in the background. The second you both finished your food you were on his lap, straddling him, kissing him passionately and running your new nails over his skin, feeling how he shivered under your touch.
"Thanks, Rafey," you said again, grateful that he made you feel so loved.
"Anything for you, m'lady, okay?"
You chuckled at the nickname, kissing him again, running your nails over his chest and tugging at his shirt, earning a groan from him.
