reyanfia

[reyanfia]

Hidden in the Corners

Pairing: H.P x Hufflepuff! Reader Summary: A quiet, studious Hufflepuff becomes an unexpected refuge for Harry Potter, offering him solace in the shadows—until the night he realizes she might need saving, too. W/C: 3k A/N: ACK i love a slow burn. Hehehe [masterlist] Much Love, Saige ★ request: @ashdreams2023 ϟ taglist ϟ : @littlemadamred

You don’t spend your time chasing after Quidditch stars or whispering gossip in the Great Hall. You’re not one for the spotlight, or even the tempting flicker of it. 

Hogwarts is loud, especially in the Hufflepuff common room where its warmth often means a certain kind of chaos; but you’ve always preferred the quieter corners of the castle. 

Windowsills with a bit of sunlight, empty classrooms filled with dust motes and echoing stillness, nooks in the library no one else bothers with.

You exist in a softer space, gentle, unnoticed, and you were perfectly content with that.

You’ve always done well in school — not flashy, but dependable. Your name never gets called out in classes unless you raise your hand first (which you rarely do). You’re polite to everyone, helpful when asked, but you’re not the type people turn to instinctively. 

You’re… background. Reliable, but not remarkable. And that’s fine.

Then there’s Harry Potter.

His world is a whirlwind; something burning and spinning and impossible to pin down. Even if you weren’t keeping to yourself, you doubt you’d cross paths. 

He’s Gryffindor. He’s always surrounded by Ron and Hermione; like the three of them orbit one another tightly, barely leaving space for anyone else. 

His life seems like a constant surge forward — detentions, Quidditch, curses, danger, and the weight of things no seventeen-year-old should have to carry.

You don’t envy him. You don’t idolize him either. You see the exhaustion in his eyes when he walks into class late. The twitch in his jaw when someone mutters The Chosen One under their breath. The way he hunches in on himself when he thinks no one’s watching.

But you are. Watching, that is. Not in a weird way… you just notice things. You always have. You pick up on how people carry stress in their shoulders, how their handwriting changes when they’re anxious. You notice the pauses in their voices when they’re too tired to finish a sentence.

And Harry Potter, you’ve realized, is almost always too tired to finish a sentence.

Still, your lives don’t touch.

He doesn’t know your name, and why would he? You’ve never been assigned to the same group project, never been paired in class, never even stood next to each other in line for meals. If you’ve passed him in the hallway, you doubt he noticed. You’re part of the blur. A face he’s never needed to remember.

So when it happens,  when the moment comes that tethers you to him in a way neither of you expected, it’s not with a bang or a declaration. It’s quiet. Like everything else in your life.

You find him curled up in the Astronomy Tower. Alone.

You’re not sure what made you go there that night. You just needed space,  a break from the common room, from the endless scribbling of essays and the way people kept laughing way too loudly around you. You had a headache. Maybe that was it. Or maybe something else was pulling you towards him.

Whatever it was, when you push the creaky wooden door open and step into the moonlight, you don’t expect to see Harry Potter sitting against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest, fists clenched into the sleeves of his jumper, face pale and tight like he’s trying very hard not to cry.

You freeze. He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even acknowledge you.

You could walk away. You probably should. This isn’t your business.

But then, you see his shoulders tremble. Just once.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice is very soft when you speak. “Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly. His head tilts slightly toward you, but his gaze stays fixed on some distant point past the railing.

Then he mutters, “Not really.”

And that’s where it starts.

That’s the moment everything changes.

Not with sparks. Not with fireworks.

But with a quiet offer — a quiet presence.

You sit down beside him, and neither of you says anything more.

You don’t know it then, but this will become a pattern. A rhythm. A strange sort of sanctuary. Not a friendship. Not yet. Not really.

But something close.

And Harry… Harry will start to look for you.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

It’s three nights later when you find him again.

You weren’t looking for him, but you weren’t not looking either. Something had tugged at your thoughts all day, a whisper of a memory of that quiet night on the Astronomy Tower. The way he hadn’t spoken much, just sat there like the silence was the only safe thing left in the world.

You hadn’t expected him to return. Harry Potter didn’t seem like someone who repeated himself. But when you creaked open the tower door again,  half out of habit, half out of instinct, you weren’t all that surprised to see him there.

Same spot. Same posture. Same exhaustion sunk into the curve of his back.

He didn’t look up when you walked in.

But his shoulders eased.

That’s how you knew it was okay to sit down again.

This time, he spoke first.

“Ron and I fought.”

You didn’t press for details. You didn’t ask why. You just waited.

After a minute, he added, “I said something I didn’t mean. He said something he did mean.”

You nodded once, slow.

He kept staring out over the ledge, at the navy sky bleeding into black.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

You glanced over at him. He didn’t seem to be talking to you, not really. Just to the air. To himself. Maybe to the stars.

“Do what?” you asked.

“Any of it. Be who they want. Save people. Pretend I’m fine.” His voice cracked like a branch under weight. “I’m tired all the time, and no one ever notices.”

You did… But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you reached into your robe pocket and quietly pulled out a tiny wrapped chocolate. One of the peppermint kind you’d kept on you since third year — comfort sweets, tucked away for emergencies. You held it out hoping he’d be interested.

He looked at it like it was a portkey. Something magical. Something kind.

He didn’t say thank you. Just took it. Unwrapped it. Popped it into his mouth.

The silence that followed was softer this time. Not heavy, like the first night. Just… full. Like something understood had passed between you.

When he finally stood to leave, he looked down at you for the first time.

His eyes were red, but clearer.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You told him.

He nodded. “Right. I’ll remember that.”

You weren’t sure you believed him.

But the next week — when you stumbled into the greenhouse for early study hours, cheeks flushed from running late,  Harry Potter was already there.

And when he saw you, he said your name like it was something he’d practiced.

Like it mattered.

Like maybe, somehow, you mattered.

To him.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

The fifth night, he doesn’t wait for you in the tower. He follows you.

You don’t notice him at first. You’ve grown used to your evening walks—wandering through the hushed corridors after curfew, careful to avoid Filch, letting your thoughts settle like snowflakes. You make your way up the spiraling stairs, same as always, your footsteps featherlight on the stone. And then—

“Hey.”

You startle.

He’s leaning against the wall just outside the Astronomy Tower entrance, arms crossed loosely, as though he’s been standing there a while. Waiting.

“I didn’t know if you’d come tonight,” he says. His voice is soft, hoarse. “But I was hoping you would.”

You blink, heart catching in your throat. “You were… waiting for me?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just cracked open something delicate between you. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

You don’t say anything. You just open the door.

He follows you inside.

It’s a colder night than the last two. The wind whips through the open arches, and the moon hangs lower, fuller. You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders as you sit, curling your knees up beneath you.

Harry sits a little closer this time.

Only a little. But you notice.

“I had a nightmare,” he says after a long silence.

Your head tilts toward him.

He’s not looking at you, still staring out at the dark sky, but his jaw’s tight and his hands are clenched again.

“I’ve been having them a lot lately,” he admits. “Some of them are… memories. Some are worse. Things that haven’t happened yet but feel like they already have.”

You nod, unsure what to say. Words are rarely enough, you’ve learned. Especially for grief. Especially for someone like him.

“I woke up in a sweat and couldn’t breathe,” he continues, voice low and raw. “And Ron was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him again, so I just…came here.”

To you.

The words hang in the air, unspoken but understood.

You shift slightly, your shoulder brushing his.

He flinches, not from discomfort, but like the contact pulled him back to the present.

“I don’t know why I keep talking to you,” he says suddenly, a small breath of a laugh. “You don’t say much. You don’t ask questions. But it helps. Just… sitting here with you. I feel like I can breathe.”

You don’t reply. You just offer him the smallest smile.

He glances down at his hands, then over at you. Really looks this time.

“You always bring peace with you. It’s strange.”

Your chest tightens at that. A different kind of ache.

He shifts beside you, hesitates, then reaches out, slowly, and lets his fingers graze yours, just barely, as your hands rest side by side on the stone floor.

You freeze.

Not because it’s too much. But because it’s new.

That light, tentative pressure of his pinky finger brushing yours, like he’s testing the air between you. Like he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Your breath comes quiet and careful.

And then..he hooks his pinky around yours.

That’s it.

No grand gesture. No hand-holding or pull-you-into-a-hug moment.

Just that small, grounding touch.

“I hope it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I just — needed something to hold onto.”

You don’t pull away.

Your fingers stay linked, light as breath.

The stars wheel above you, and somewhere in the world, there’s a war waiting.

But here, in the tower, in the hush of night, Harry Potter sits beside you, steadying himself on your presence.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

You don’t speak of the tower during the day.

It’s a silent rule. One neither of you ever voiced, but both instinctively understand. Whatever exists between you and Harry in the quiet of the Astronomy Tower doesn’t follow you into the sunlit corridors or crowded Great Hall.

And yet, something’s changed.

The first time it happens, you’re leaving Herbology, soil still clinging to your nails. Your head is bowed slightly, a book clutched to your chest, when you feel it — a flicker of pressure at the edge of your awareness.

You glance up.

Across the courtyard, Harry’s standing with Ron and Hermione. He’s laughing at something Ron says, or at least pretending to, but his eyes are on you.

You look away quickly.

You’re not used to being seen. Not in that way.

Not in broad daylight.

Not by him.

The second time, it’s in the library. You’re buried behind a stack of books, halfway through rewriting your Ancient Runes notes, when you hear a chair scrape softly against the floor. Someone sits a few tables over. You barely look up… until you catch the edge of a familiar voice.

“Do you have any ink, Hermione? I forgot mine.”

You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s hard not to when he’s right there.

And at some point, while Hermione scribbles and Ron yawns beside her, you glance up, and there it is again.

Harry. Looking your way.

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t nod. He just watches you for a second too long.

Long enough that you feel it behind your ribs.

When you leave the library twenty minutes later, your chest is buzzing. Not with nerves, but with something quieter. Stranger.

Confusion.

Because the thing is… he still doesn’t know you.

Not really.

Not your favorite subject (Charms), or the way you always twirl your quill when you’re thinking. Not the fact that you hate pumpkin juice and love thunderstorms. Not how you grew up in a tiny house on the edge of a field, where magic was always quiet, gentle, and practical,  none of the grand, wild stories the rest of the world expects from witches and wizards.

He doesn’t know that you like reading about magical flora more than people, or that you’ve never had a best friend, not really, and that you’ve always preferred it that way.

He doesn’t know your middle name.

Your birthday.

Your laugh.

He knows only the part of you that exists in the dark —  the girl who waits on cold stone floors, who offers chocolate and listens without asking too much.

And maybe that’s all he wants.

But then, one night,  maybe the sixth or seventh,  when the tower is still and Harry is quiet, too quiet, you ask a question. One you’ve been holding back.

“Do you ever wonder why it’s easier for you to talk to someone you barely know?”

His eyes flicker open. He was leaning back, staring at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”

You pick at a thread on your sleeve. “You always come to me when you’re hurting. But you’ve never asked me anything about myself.”

He sits up slowly, blinking.

“I guess… I didn’t want to ruin it,” he says finally. “You never ask anything of me. You don’t expect me to be ‘Harry Potter’ when I’m here.”

You nod, eyes down.

“I like who I am when I’m with you,” he adds, voice softer. “But you’re right. That’s not fair to you.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, his voice again, low and almost shy.

“What’s your favorite spell?”

You blink.

You glance up.

And for the first time since this strange pattern began… he’s trying.

To know you.

Not just use your comfort as a balm.

And somehow, that tiny, awkward question means more than anything.

You smile, barely.

“Orchideous.”

Harry furrows his brow. “The flower one?”

You nod. “It’s simple. Beautiful. And it never hurts anyone.”

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize that answer.

And when he leaves that night, he says your name again. But this time… he says it like it belongs to him.

Like he’s afraid to forget it.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

It’s raining the night you don’t show up.

Not just drizzling, but pouring. The kind of storm that drowns the castle in wind and sound. The Astronomy Tower windows blur with water, and the corners leak from long-forgotten cracks in the stone. Harry waits anyway.

At first, he assumes you’re late.

You’re never late.

Then he thinks maybe you fell asleep, or got caught in a hallway talking to someone,  not that you ever stop to talk to anyone unless they need help.

But an hour passes. Then two.

And the ache in his chest grows louder than the rain.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s come to need you, not until the moment you aren’t there.

Not until the silence feels wrong without you in it.

Not until it’s your absence that’s pressing on his ribs, not his pain.

So, for the first time, Harry gets up and goes looking.

He checks the library first — your favorite corner. Empty.

Then the Hufflepuff common room, waiting awkwardly near the portrait, hoping someone will slip in or out and he can sneak a glance. No one comes.

Finally, he finds you.

In a corridor just past the greenhouses, under a crumbling arch of ivy that smells like wet earth and bitter roots. You’re sitting on the stone floor, knees pulled to your chest, cloak soaked through. Your face is buried in your arms.

He stops.

Not because he doesn’t want to approach, but because he doesn’t want to ruin it,  the solitude, the smallness of your sadness. He recognizes it. He’s lived it.

Then you shiver.

And that’s all it takes.

He kneels slowly beside you, careful not to startle you. “Hey.”

You look up, and the sight of your face breaks something in him. Your eyes are glassy, lashes stuck together with rain. But it’s not the storm that made you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Why?” he says, voice hoarse. “You’re allowed to fall apart, too.”

You let out a breath that sounds more like a broken laugh. “You weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“You’ve seen me like this.”

“That’s different.”

“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not.”

He takes your hand.

Not just a brush this time, not just a pinky linked under moonlight. He wraps his fingers around yours, warm despite the rain, steady despite the storm. Your breath catches.

“I didn’t realize how much you held me together,” he says, eyes searching yours. “Until I felt what it’s like to worry about you.”

You don’t know what to say.

So he speaks for both of you.

“I used to think I came to you because I didn’t want to be seen,” he says, voice low. “But maybe I kept coming back because I wanted you to see me. Just… me. Not the Chosen One. Not the hero. Just a boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing most days.”

You swallow hard, eyes stinging.

He moves closer.

“I don’t know a lot about you,” he admits, “but I want to.”

You blink. Slowly. Carefully.

“Why?”

“Because I feel more like myself when I’m with you,” he says. “And I think… maybe I could help you feel that way, too.”

For the first time, you lean in.

And for the first time, he’s the one offering quiet.

He’s the warmth.

He’s the stillness in the storm.

He holds you, not tightly — not possessively — but like he’s making space. For your pain. For your quiet. For your entire, gentle existence.

And as you press your forehead lightly to his, rain still falling around you, you think maybe the silence was never meant to last forever.

[reyanfia]

via @swatercolour [insta]

[reyanfia]

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

[reyanfia]

and now i'm covered in you

theodore nott x fem!hufflepuff!reader

"You know, you can stay if you want to." + "I think I'm in trouble." + "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

synopsis - theo finds himself crushing on hogwarts' resident ball of sunshine hufflepuff but tries to force himself to stay away.

don't question the mechanics, go with it. do we want more down bad theo?

warnings - cursing, over-used amortentia love confession trope, theo is treacherously in love

slytherin boys works

"hnnnnggghhh."

mattheo looked up from doodling in the margins of the potions assignment he'd begrudgingly been blackmailed into working on by theo. said boy had his chin perked up onto his hand and was staring across the library at y/n, hogwarts' resident happy huffle.

in all honesty, theo didn't really give two shits if mattheo did his homework or not. he just needed someone to come with him to spy on you during your weekly wednesday study session. and while mattheo seemed like the last person who'd ever be in a library (all too true assumption), he was the only slytherin that theo had any blackmail material on.

so the pair of them sat at a table in the far corner, secluded in darkness that made it relatively difficult to pick them out from the leatherbound books of the ancient history section. theo had a clear view of you, but you'd have to strain your eyes to see him, which is what made this the perfect hiding spot.

theo let out another sigh, this one so dramatic that mattheo had begun to worry that his friend's testicles had simply fallen off.

"what the hell, man?"

"look at her."

mattheo's eyebrows immediately drew together in a look that was nothing short of incredulous.

"are you obsessing over that little puff in the corner?"

theo's hand shot up to grab the other boys' hand which was gestured lazily in the direction towards your figure. you were huddled up in a tutoring session with a pair of firsties in catty-corner to them. while theo was most certain you couldn't see him, he still didn't want to chance this buffoon giving him away.

the smile you gave them was so bright that theo found himself wishing that you were even slightly aware of his existence so that maybe, you might smile at him that way. his thoughts began to wander as he thought of all of the ways that he wanted you to smile at him. a large portion of them were decidedly not friend-like.

lost in his thoughts, theo hadn't caught your approach until you stood in front of them in your bright white sneakers. though they were a little beat up from your regular trips to the gardens, theo found them undeniably adorable. maybe because they had cute little yellow flowers embroidered on the sides of the heels. or maybe he just loved them because he loved you.

"hi matty!"

the moment the endearment was out of your mouth, theo's lovesick stare turned into a glare. he had no idea that you were even acquainted with mattheo, let alone that you had a nickname for him.

"hey there, y/n." mattheo, the cocky bastard, had a shit eating grin on his face that told theo that he knew exactly why your sudden arrival had irked him. "have you met theodore yet?"

your face twisted a little and a redness crept up your neck, settling on your cheeks. you muttered a quick no, clearly embarrassed about something.

"hi theodore. i'm y/n." you extended your hand towards him and theo was certain he'd explode if he didn't get the chance to touch your skin. so, with more eagerness than was probably necessary, theo took your small hand in his own.

now would've been the perfect time to do something flirty like compliment you or press a gentle kiss to your fingers. but when theo opened his mouth, something else entirely came out.

"don't call me that."

your face fell and you snatched your hand back to pull nervously along the ends of your hair. shit, shit, shit. that came out completely wrong.

don't call me that?? what kind of asshole said stuff like that to a girl he liked? honestly, you could call him whatever you want so long as you said it in that sweet voice of yours.

"oh. sorry."

"i just mean-- theo. i'm theo... to you..." theo's tongue felt too large for his mouth as he stumbled to get his thoughts to come out of his stupid mouth correctly. "you can call me theo. if you want."

mattheo was trying, and failing, to hide his snicker as he watched his best friend make a complete fool of himself. it wasn't very often that theodore the womanizer became so flustered for a piece of ass. of course, that was the catalyst here. you were clearly far more to theodore than just another piece of ass. that much was abundantly clear to mattheo based just off this interaction alone.

"well, good night, matty... and theo." you said his name hesitantly, almost as if you were worried the boy might spaz out again. with another breathtaking smile, you turned on your back heel and fluttered out of the library.

only after he watched the heavy oak doors close behind you did theo finally allow his head to thud against the desk.

mattheo had given up on hiding his laughter and was inches away from crying actual tears of amusement. he caught his breath momentarily, if only to mock theo's earlier fumble.

"don't call me that?" another fit of giggles stopped him mid-thought. "merlin, theodore, do you like this girl or not?"

theo waved his arms out in front of him in a gesture that was surely meant to be interpreted as "clearly i fucking do". mattheo was inclined to agree with the sentiment. he was most certainly down bad for this little hufflepuff.

"don't worry theo, daphne and i will help you out."

theo really should've known better than to accept help from his crazy best friend, and, if possible, his crazier girlfriend. but after what could only be described as a pathetic first meeting, he would try anything.

"fine."

"oh, c'mon y/n!"

you were uncharacteristically unamused by daphne's antics at the moment. you weren't really sure what she was playing at, but you did know for certain that her plan would land you an awful potions grade.

professor slughorn had been gracious enough to allow you to choose your own partners for today's assignment. the catch was that you weren't sure what you'd be brewing until after you were paired up. this shouldn't have been too much of a problem except, you were abysmal at potions.

daphne had insisted on being your partner, which you didn't understand the benefit of since your friend was equally as awful as you were. "daph, if we partner together, we'll fail."

daphne faced you with a pleading puppy-eyed look that you hadn't known any slytherin capable of producing.

"please. you're my only option to not get stuck with enzo."

as if on cue, the dark haired boy's robes caught on fire as he attempted to light the flame under his cauldron a few stations back. a rather girly yelp left him as he shoved his robe off and onto the floor before stomping on it a few good times to suffocate the fire.

you winced in sympathy towards daphne, still silently scanning the room to see who else might rescue you from a failing grade.

hermione would normally be your first choice, but draco had unfortunately decided not to skip today and snagged his girlfriend before anyone else could. you noticed theo sat next to a grinning mattheo two rows behind you.

you'd only just met the boy yesterday, but you could tell by the disbelieving frown on his face that he was unhappy with his partner. theo was amazing at potions and you were certain he normally paired with blaise, who was the most semi-competent slytherin of the lot when it came to potions. but for some reason, blaise was paired with pansy today. neither of them looked upset by the arrangement, so you tried to put it out of your head and focus on your own situation.

which brought you back to now. the amortentia that you were supposed to be brewing was notably lacking in both luster and pink-ness. it smelled like moldy old socks, which you knew by the mouthwatering aroma in the air that it was not supposed to smell like that.

after nearly 45 minutes of torture, slughorn finally called an end to the brewing and made his rounds about the room. surprisingly, only three potions were made correctly.

hermione's, which you knew would happen after you saw her smacking draco away from the ingredients and cauldron the whole time. pansy and blaise, who despite having succeeded, looked thoroughly worn out from the endeavor. and theo's. it was more shocking than anything that he'd managed to accomplish anything with mattheo as his partner.

"wonderful, class! now, i want everyone to gather around one of the three successful cauldrons around the room. go on." slughorn waited patiently until the class had split itself somewhat evenly into three groups all huddled around each workstation. theo was the closest to you, so you and daphne joined their group.

"now, with your classmates, take turns and tell each other what you smell."

unsurprised when daphne and mattheo smelled each other, you leaned forward hesitantly for your turn. you didn't really know what you'd smell. on your first whiff, two smells in particular hit you hard. "i smell books and wildflowers. and... something else. something... fainter."

slughorn leaned into your small group with a delighted smile. "amazing, miss y/l/n. it's common to smell faint hints of something in amortentia when either the brewer has not acknowlegded a love of something or when a love for that thins is still developing. go on. tell us what it is my dear girl."

"i think it's... fresh cut grass? i can't place where from, though."

"that's alright."

slughorn slinked away without any further explanation. two girls you didn't recognize went next, not at all caught off guard by their smells. then, it was theo's turn and you found yourself more interested in what he smelled than you cared to admit out loud.

"i smell my nonna's fettucine, the grass on the quidditch field, and... some kind of flower."

always quick on the upswing, your face reddened as you realized that the grass you caught wind of earlier was in fact, quidditch field grass. and based off the knowing smirk from mattheo paired with his not so subtle glances between you a theodore, you smelled each other.

the class dispersed shortly afterward, thankfully with no new revelations for your already flimsy love-life.

what you hadn't expected, was for theo to be waiting for you outside the classroom door.

"oh, hi theo. i thought you might've left already."

"i tried. but mattheo threatened to die my hair green, so."

you tried not to be disappointed that he hadn't wanted to stay and talk to you. a long huff from theo had you looking up from the stonework of the floor.

he said something to himself under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "merlin i'm awful at this". before you could ask him to clarify, he'd taken your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth for a soft kiss.

"let me start over. hi, i'm theodore and i've been unashamedly in love with you for the past forever. join me in hogsmeade this weekend?"

[reyanfia]

heheee I'm doing well right now <3 school can be a pain but you've got what it takes to kick its ass too 🫶

long time no talk, how are you? :)

omggg girl i missed u!! im good but school is kicking my ass rn ngl how r youuu

[reyanfia]

prompts from : "the queen's gambit"

iconic dialogues from tqg (2020)

"fuck you, margaret."

"aren't we gonna look at the chess sets?"

"how much longer?"

"put me in the open."

"yeah, I won."

"that was quick."

"I have no intention in saying any of this."

"because it's fucking nonsense?"

"you're too sharp for me."

"doesn't everybody?"

"you play very well, señorita."

"I've never been either."

"I gotta study my endgames."

"just replaying my old games."

"I can't find any."

"we've not really met, just spoke."

"again."

"what do you say a quick game of speed chess?"

"i've read that too."

"doesn't she ever change clothes?"

"I won 4 games."

"are you serious?"

"so that's what it's supposed to feel like."

"it was actually his idea to adopt you."

"don't you want to know how she died?"

compiled by reyanfia. the quotes are not mine. feel free to do whatever

[reyanfia]

— perfect for me — neteyam sully x reader

setting: omaticaya's village

pairing: neteyam x f!omaticaya!reader (you are both 19.)

warnings: mentions of b100d, crying, comforting

summary: being the tsakarem, you try your best to save an injured warrior, but in vain. neteyam is there to listen to your feelings, and comforts you through your moments of hopelessness.

a/n: based on this request! this one's for you, @saturnheartz, I really enjoyed writing this blurb. thank you! mwah mwah & ilysm girlie

tsakarem: a future tsahìk, or a tsahìk in training.

last night, the warriors of the omaticaya had gone to battle against the rival clan, but for whatever reason? neteyam wouldn't tell you, saying he doesn't want you to be involved in those matters, ensuring you of your safety.

you were in your shared home now, waiting for him to come back from his duties.

there was no way out of this sorrow. the feeling of loss that you felt, eywa, it was agonizing.

—

it's been some time now. you and the healers are sat around together in the tent, ready to help anybody that comes injured.

"tsakarem!"

a woman calls out to you as she comes running in with a young, unconscious, injured warrior. you sucked in a deep breath as you walked over to her, helping her carry him to a clean bed.

your face soured when you realized the amount of blood the warrior had lost. your checked his pulse under his jaw. it's slowing down, and that's not a good sign. "oh eywa," you muttered.

you and the other healers tried your hardest, bandaging, cleaning the blood, and saying all sorts of chants and hymns. to save the young na'vi. but too much blood was lost and the wound was large.

no medicine, tool, or technique could possibly save him.

tears pricked at your eyes when you checked his heartbeat again, only to find it stopped. resuscitating him wouldn't do anything.

the woman who brought him in realized what had happened when she scanned your disheartened face. she brought a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her cries.

the tears in your eyes fell as you wiped your hands clean. the other healers were distressed at seeing you like this — the younger ones looking much more sorrowful as they witnessed death right in front of their very own eyes.

"I failed." you quivered, wiping your tears away. the tent was dull and still, only making the quiet cries of yours sound louder.

"I am supposed be the future tsahìk, and yet I failed. i've not done good enough."

—

you can't get the young na'vi's dying body out of your head. the scent of blood remained fresh on your hands, no matter how many times you tried to wash it out.

neteyam pushes aside the flap, walking inside. a surge of concern flooded him when he saw how sullen and down you seemed.

he knew something was off last night when he found you already asleep before he came back. usually you'd always wait for him, so you could wish him goodnight before you both went to bed. your breathing was rigid that morning too, your smiles looked forced.

and now, you didn't even greet him hello, like you always did.

"are you alright, ______?" he asked, walking towards you.

he kneeled in front of you, while you were sitting on the hammock that you both would sleep in.

you didn't answer him, nor did you look at him. so it catches him off guard that you cried once he held your face.

the flood gates broke down, and you tried to stop them from running. you held onto his hand as you curled into yourself, struggling to hide your tears as if it wasn't allowed for you to cry. but they only kept coming back.

"oh my," he lowly gasped at your sobbing state, getting up and sitting beside you. you let him bring you closer to him, making you cry into his shoulder.

he gave you soft rubs on your back, letting you take your time to calm down. how his heart hurt seeing you like this. he'd never seen you cry so much before.

ever since you were both young, you always brought peace and love everywhere you went. crying was a rare occurrence to you. the last time you cried was joyful tears when you were bethrothed to neteyam, and that was a good 3 earth years ago.

you both weren't lovers, still aren't, just the greatest of friends with exceptional skill, that his parents decided it would be best if you were to lead the omaticaya people alongside him. it was mutual agreement between the both of you.

"do you wanna talk about it?" he says, once your cries have stilled.

you wiped your remaining tears, and pulled away from him. you still haven't said anything since he came in.

"I don't think I'm fit to become tsahìk, neteyam." you said weakly, voice hoarse from your cries.

his grip on your hands grew slightly more solid. he frowned at your words, wondering what happened that would make you think so little of yourself. "why do you think that?"

you shook your head, sniffling at the thought of how horrible you did. "a life was lost. yesterday. and — shit, I couldn't save it." you bit the inside of your cheek so hard, the metallic taste of blood started to fill your senses.

"and he was just a young hunter. he probably only completed his rite of passage a month ago or so.

you hand slipped out his grasp, reaching up to brush away another tear that slipped out. he stayed silent with his patient gaze on you.

" I saw how his family mourned. they lost their son. their brother. and it's all because I couldn't save him. I could've stopped the bleeding sooner. maybe I could've done something, I don't know what, better or quicker. but because I didn't, he's lost the life he could've lived. neteyam, he was still so young. he was only 15!"

your voice breaks when you raised it, thinking about the dreams he could've achieved, the memories he could've made, all shattered and gone. drops of tears fell to your hands but you didn't care enough to wipe them away this time.

"i'm not what a tsahìk is supposed to be. I should be able to save the people, to keep grief away — and that's not what I did."

"what would your mother think? you, bethrothed to a woman like me? you deserve somebody better, someone who could make it worth to become tsahìk. and I don't think it should be me." you added, speaking the last part in a restrained way. you didn't want to say it, but anybody else would be better for him than you are.

a hand from him went up to your jaw. "______, no. my goodness no, no. listen to me, you, are already the best for me."

he lifted your chin so you would look at him.

"that boy you tried to save, eywa bless his soul, his time already came. and there was only so much you could do, it's not possible to try and save a life that's already slipping out of your hands,"

both hands of his held your shoulders, begging you to listen and accept his words.

"and my mother — she chose you herself. she is tsahìk, and she knew what she was doing. do you know what that means?"

your shook your head no, clueless.

"it means, that she knew, that not only are you perfect to become my future tsahìk, but you are also perfect for me."

you averted his gaze, poking your tongue against your bitten cheek, denying it internally. you couldn't believe him.

"you haven't shown me how."

his tilted his head in confusion, not understanding what you meant.

you sighed shakily, continuing. "neteyam. how exactly am I meant for you? in what way? I mean— what does the tsahìk see in me?"

he smiled gently then. "______, my mother liked you for how you were from the day she saw you. she sensed how — kind, pure and giving you are. you care for everybody, even the worst ones. I've seen how you always brushed off people's doubts about you, forgiving them."

a pause. "and you're skilled. you're basically 10 levels better at everything I do. and that's only at the top of my head, she's told me so many things reasoning why you're good for me."

there's sincerity in his eyes, but then again, you've always seen that, he's your closest friend. "yeah well, you don't see those qualities in me, so why would you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you have no love for?"

your heart could possibly jump out your chest at what he says next. "you oblivious girl, who says I don't? and no, not as a friend, sweetheart."

sweetheart.

however, you couldn't find it in yourself to believe him. you wanted to, but is he really being serious? or is he just saying this because he hates seeing you in a sobbing mess?

there goes your doubts again.

"do you really mean that?"

"yes, I do."

"prove it."

he scoffed playfully, making your mouth quirk up a little. "I'd have to kiss you to do that."

"so, do it."

his smile falters. did he change his mind?

you didn't get to come to a conclusion when his lips met yours, hands coming up to cup your face. so delicately, as if trying to not scare you.

you immediately missed the warmth of him when he pulled away, leaning slightly to chase it. he searches your eyes, hoping you were okay with what he just did.

he's done it, he's got your heart entirely and there's no looking back.

those stubborn tears are coming back now, making your eyes look glassy again. you sighed to yourself.

"please don't leave me wanting you, don't you dare leave me now." you pleaded. you found yourself pathetic, crying over a boy like this.

still, what were you supposed to do? you loved him.

he gave you a sweet, endearing smile before pulling you in, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your body shook. "everything will be alright, now. I'll make sure of it."

his promises make every problem seem so little.

"you're more than worth it to be my tsahìk. I can't ask for anything more, my love."

©ronalsgirl

thank you for reading! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

[reyanfia]

♯ JEALOU$Y ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! an unexpected situation catches you off guard in the heart of florence and your boyfriend reveals a side of him you’ve never seen before (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, jealous + italian theo, translation of foreign language + lmk !

WORD COUNT! 1.3k

NOTES! he’s so fine when he’s jealous❕

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT WAS FAR FROM HAVING A SHORT TEMPER (UNLIKE HIS BEST FRIEND) BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN HE WAS NECESSARILY CARELESS. Sometimes, jealousy wrapped around his heart like the snake representing his house, squeezing and picking at the muscle, giving it wounds for blood to shed from.

And every time he tried to push those feelings aside, they came back even stronger than before in a crashing wave full of raw emotion. He felt like a puppet on a string that was pulled tight by the cruel hands of jealousy. His actions were no longer his own.

The summer sun bathed the picturesque streets of Florence in a warm, golden glow, casting a honeyed hue over the ancient city. Cobblestone pathways, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, stretched along the bustling streets. Each turn revealed a new delight: charming cafés with wrought-iron tables spilling onto the sidewalks, historic landmarks standing as silent reminders of the past, and vibrant marketplaces bursting with life and color. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of aged stone and the tantalizing whiff of fresh espresso. The fragrance was an intoxicating blend, making every breath feel like a taste of paradise. The sounds of Florence added to the sensory feast: the melodic chatter of locals and tourists, the clinking of glasses and cutlery from the outdoor restaurants, and the distant strains of street musicians playing heavenly tunes on their violins and accordions.

Florence, in the embrace of summer, was absolutely beautiful. It was a place where history and romance intertwined, where every corner held a new discovery, and every moment was a celebration of the beauty of life. The city's magic lay not just in its landmarks, but in the way it made you feel — alive, enchanted, and eternally in love with the world around you.

You walked hand in hand with Theodore, your fingers intertwined in one as you explored the enchanting city. This vacation had been his idea, a chance for the two of you to escape the pressures of Hogwarts and immerse yourselves in the beauty and romance of Italy. Theo's Italian heritage made the trip even more special; he was eager to show you the places that held a special place in his heart.

As you wandered through a bustling street, you paused to admire a street artist's breathtaking paintings. The vibrant colors and detailed brushstrokes captured the scenery of Florence in ways that made the city's beauty stand out even more, and you found yourself lost in the artwork. Theo had stepped away momentarily to get you both something to eat from a nearby stand, leaving you alone but content. The hum of the city buzzed around you, voices of people blending with the occasional strum of a guitar.

While you were engrossed in the art, a group of local boys approached, their laughter and chatter filling the air. They were handsome and confident, their flirtatious smiles and easy charm unmistakable. One of them, with dark, curly hair and a mischievous grin, stepped forward, clearly intent on catching your attention. His eyes sparkled with interest as he gestured towards you.

"Sei molto bella." ("You are very beautiful.")

You blinked, a bit taken aback. Although you had picked up a few phrases during your time with Theo, your grasp of the language was far from fluent. You understood enough to know that he was complimenting you, but the exact words of meaning escaped you.

Before you could respond, another boy joined in, his tone equally playful. "Vuoi venire a fare una passeggiata con noi?" ("Do you want to go for a walk with us?")

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, both from the unexpected attention and your inability to respond. Your eyes darted around, hoping to spot your boyfriend. You were feeling increasingly uncomfortable, unsure how to extricate yourself from the situation.

Just as you were about to attempt a polite but awkward decline, you heard Theo's voice, sharp and commanding. "Ehi, lasciatela in pace!" ("Hey, leave her alone!")

The transformation in him was startling. Theo, usually so calm and composed, had a fierce intensity in his eyes. He stepped between you and the group of boys, his posture protective, his expression a stormy mix of anger and determination. The easygoing demeanor he often sported was replaced by a fierce warning.

His broad shoulders squared, blocking the boys' view of you completely, creating a barrier that was both physical and emotional. The bright warmth of the sun seemed to dim in comparison to the fire that burned in Theo's gaze. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the gentle, sweet boyfriend you knew into a guardian ready to defend the owner of his heart and soul.

The boys, who had moments ago been brimming with confidence, raised their hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously. "Calmati, amico. Non volevamo causare problemi," one of them said, trying to diffuse the situation. ("Calm down, friend. We didn't want to cause trouble.")

But Theo wasn't having any of it. Each word was a blade of a dagger, cutting through the casual flirtation of the boys, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. "Non vedete che non è interessata? Andatevene prima che mi arrabbi davvero." ("Can't you see she's not interested? Walk away before I really get angry."). His voice was low and menacing as he continued in rapid Italian, his words too fast for you to catch but clearly effective in making the boys rethink their approach. They muttered a few apologies before scurrying away, casting wary glances over their shoulders.

Theo turned to you, his eyes softening instantly as he took in your bewildered expression. The fierce protector you had just witnessed melted away, replaced by your sweet boy you knew so well. "Are you okay?" His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting touch.

You nodded, still a bit shaken. "I'm fine. They were just . . . I didn't understand what they were saying," you admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Theo's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "They were trying to flirt with you," he explained. "But don't worry, they're gone now."

You managed a small laugh, the tension easing out of your body. "I figured that much," you said, your voice lightening. "Thank you, Theo."

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart were instantly calming. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. "I just couldn't stand the thought of them bothering you."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The fierce protectiveness in his gaze had melted into something softer, more tender. "You were amazing," you said honestly. "I've never seen you like that before."

Theo's smile widened, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, I can't help it," he said, his tone teasing but sincere. "You bring out the best in me."

As you continued your walk through the beautiful streets of Florence, Theo kept you close, his arm securely around you. The incident with the local boys faded into the background, replaced by the joy of being together in such a magical place. The city's charm and Theo's unwavering affection made you feel like you were living in a dream.

Later that evening, as you sat together at a cozy café, sipping on rich Italian espresso, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Theo. His protective nature, his deep love for you, and his ability to make you feel safe and cherished were all things you treasured deeply. As the sun set over the Florence skyline, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, you leaned into Theo, feeling utterly content.

In that moment, with the world bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you knew that no matter where you were, as long as you were with Theo, you were home.

[reyanfia]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mia stella, calls theodore nott to his significant other; immensely proud of his quidditch player girlfriend, even if it might mean that the house rivalries have to be subsided sometimes. even if slytherin loses against you and your skill, even if it frustrates theodore, one of slytherin's chasers, because your skill is on his team's way to victory.

mia stella, even if the game doesn't go as well as you wanted. even if your team loses, or if you fail some opportunities to score extra points— it doesn't matter; you're still theodore's stargirl, shining brighter than the other stars, as if you were the sun itself. impossible to confuse or to miss, bigger and brighter, illuminating his darkness with a warm brightness.

mia stella, he yells and cheers for you, on the stands, whenever you're playing and he's not, yet he never misses a game of yours— happy to be the supportive boyfriend. and if someone teases him? a glare and a shove. terribly mean comments and verbal jinxes to you, because you're being a good player? punch aimed to the nose. and then theodore nott is smiling again, that fond smile as he watches you fly around the pitch, his dead stare shinning for once. shining with love, because theo adores to admire his stargirl of a girlfriend.

mia stella, whenever you get a good grade, or manage to pass a subject that you struggle at. holding your head carefully to not dishevel your hair, theodore guides you closer to him as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your head; smiling, proud of you. nevermind if it's one point above the medium score to pass the subject, he's proud nonetheless. proud whenever your hardwork proves itself worth it.

mia stella, he pleads with those puppy eyes that you should know better than to give in, when theodore trails after you, begging you to skip classes with him, even quidditch practices, which are even harder for you to give in. can you blame him? theodore is insanely enamored for you! and like the brightest star that you are, the sun itself, his sunshine— theo argues that he needs your warmth, or else he'd die, like planet Earth without the sun's blessing of a warmth. and why should you attend these specific classes? you're a stargirl, one class won't be dramatic to lose! if you struggle, theodore is happy to burn extra eyelashes to be a better teacher to both of you. and the quidditch practice? 'come on, mia stella— you're already the best at quidditch and your house can't possibly think of replacing you. you're that good.'

mia stella, theodore calls for you so tenderly, hugging you close to his body when the wind blows with a cold strength, keeping the two of you warm in each other's embrace. kissing your forehead, nuzzling against your hair, feeling your presence so close to him. as it should be. and even though theodore is one astronomy nerd, the breathing and living wikipedia of the stars, theo ignores the constellations above him to look at you. his star. the stargirl of his heart. you.

[reyanfia]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

Word Count: 4184

Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!

A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3

The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.

Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.

His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.

He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone. 

The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.

Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”

You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.

You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.

His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.

You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.

He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.

“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.

“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.

“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.

Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.

“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed. 

Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.

“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”

“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.

“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.

“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.

Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”

“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”

Theo’s reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”

“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.

Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.

Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you’d always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.

“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief. 

The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”

“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”

“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.

“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.

“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.

“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.

“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.

Theo’s mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”

“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.

Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss. 

“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary. 

But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.

“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you. “I need a break from them.”

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”

“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.

“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.

Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.

Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.

Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.

“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.

He’s absolutely furious.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.

It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.

His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.

Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.

“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”

“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.

Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.

You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.

He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’

There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.

A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.

“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.

“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”

“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.

Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps. 

“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.

“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you’ve ever been, the closest you’ve ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.

“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.

“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”

The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.

“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.

He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?” Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. “Years,” he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he’s afraid to let go.

The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now. 

Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”

“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”

He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.

His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.

The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[reyanfia]

gold rush

cedric diggory x fem!hufflepuff!reader

taylor swift series: part one

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ masterlist ₊ ⊹

summary: everybody wants him, everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, but he loves you. (inspired by taylor swift’s gold rush!!!)

warnings: lil bit of angst, self-pity, mentions of alcohol, FLUFF <3

words: 1.8k

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

cedric diggory. the prefect of hufflepuff. the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team. your best friend. but that was all he was... a friend.

the secret you bore that you had fallen in love with him along the way of your friendship had burned a hole into your heart, believing that deep down that he was never destined to fall for you.

sure, you'd hoped things would slowly work out in your favor. but in your eyes, it didn't seem very likely.

but to (almost) everyone else, his eyes were only on you.

everyone knew from the moment you and cedric were seen running around the halls together on the first day you were both sorted into hufflepuff that the two of you were completely enamored with one another. it could be seen in many other ways throughout the years.

cedric was a gentleman to everyone of course, but to you? he was an absolute angel. the way he'd listen to every word you had to say even if it was the most ridiculous, hold your books for you in between classes, skip his classes and take care of you if you were sick, just the way he looked at you… you swore the glint in his eyes had felt so much different. but you’d also considered that you’ve just gone completely mad…

you noticed his gestures of course, but you thought that was just cedric's nature. he was a hufflepuff wasn't he? well, he was practically the face of hufflepuff. at hogwarts, mostly everyone wasn't 100% of their house, but you were convinced cedric was the only true hufflepuff.

the girls hoarding around cedric never helped, but you never noticed the way he acted around them. uncomfortable. and not so much entertaining them, but more-so feeling guilty for them (and also because he's a a major pushover). 

with the tri-wizard competition and with cedric as a champion, the crowds piled around him. not just girls, but hufflepuffs who wanted to bash around in his glory.

you missed him. you didn't even want him to put his name in the stupid goblet to begin with, but you couldn’t bare the look of disappointment on his face when you didn’t approve of it. he thought the world of you. he wanted to do this for you, to prove that he could finally make the house you shared worthy of the limelight, to make him worth of you…. but you didn’t know that yet.

but now, every chance you had to spend with him was always ruined by the crowds stealing him away. everyday for a week since then he’d been pulled away from you. his usual spot next to you in the great hall remained empty and no one else had come to claim it, your friends knowing it was his spot. well other people tried… like when ernie didn’t make it time to be cedric’s little side-kick, he’d try to squeeze himself in beside you, but everyone hollered him off when you didn’t have the heart to.

you’d seen cedric make the effort. every single time he did, but he would be pulled away by his growing posse. sometimes you’d just wish you were able to scream, yell, or even simply ask him to stay loud enough to be heard over the boys and their banter, but alas, it never worked in your favor. you also wished that he would tell his friends that he wanted to stay back and just have at least one second with you. just one conversation. but every time he managed to get out a word of retort, his cheeks had gone so red and his voice in a fit of stutters that he’d just let his growing group lead him elsewhere.

you noticed the girls. of course you did. how could you not?

it’s not like girls had never craved the attention of cedric diggory, but after his name shot out of goblet of fire, it’d almost been too much for you.

the girls, especially those from beauxbatons, stared and erupted giggles every time he’d passed by and sent glares at you whenever he’d try and stop to talk to you, but those were always quickly interrupted by his herd of new friends. even anthony, his bestest friend, had grown tired of the crowds and relinquished back to his normal spot the great hall, matching your sighs whenever you’d hear the crowd boast over him.

one night, when you had just managed to finish hours worth of work on a history of magic paper, once you were satisfied, you let yourself bury into the covers of your bed. it was a friday night and there was a party in the hufflepuff common room to celebrate cedric once again, but you were exhausted. you’d purposefully planned to be cooped up in your room all night while the rest of your school mates partied away. no one would miss me surely.

knock knock.

you were tempted to just lay there, pretend you were asleep in hopes they would leave you to your solitude, but the fits of knocks didn’t stop and they soon turned to mutters that would make your heart almost stop completely.

“y/n? y/n/n? you awake?” cedric. even in his slightly drunken state, he was soft-spoken, only gently knocking and whispering in case you hadn’t been awake.

any other time, you would’ve gotten up immediately. but after this week, you were hesitant. it wasn’t his fault. really, it wasn’t. you couldn’t help the built up insecurities and the fact that cedric didn’t have time for you anymore. he always did before, but this time, there was just too much in the way, too many people watching his every move and wanting every bit of attention just as you did.

just as you were sure he’d left, you heard a soft huff and an odd noise hitting your door.

when you finally made your way to open the door, you slid it open gently, seeing cedric leaning up against it, sliding alongside it while you cracked it open.

you gasped at the site, grabbing cedric’s hand with the two of yours and hauling him up. “ced?” you grunted, struggling as you pulled him. “why are you here?”

“wanted to see you.” his cheeks were flushed red. he’d been drinking. not quite a lot. you knew when he’d gotten to his breaking point. right now, he’d only had a couple shots in fire whiskey him, otherwise he would’ve been completely knocked out and unintelligible. “why didn’t you come down?”

his speech was hardly slurred, he just seemed really tired.

“um…” the paper excuse sounded lame. were you really holing yourself up in your dorm all because a boy hadn’t given you his undivided attention? that excuse would never hear the light of day, but even then, you knew it was pathetic. “was tired…” now that was even more pathetic.

you sat over on your four poster bed and he followed in suit, but instead of sitting, he fiddled with the curtains, as if he’d seemed more interested in the velvet fabric than you. no. he was distracting himself. he was just as nervous as you were.

your eyes went to his, then to your twiddling hands. a moment of silence had aired throughout your dorm. then you felt a dip on your bed.

“y/n/n ‘m sorry.” you looked up, his cheeks reaching even deeper level of pink. once your eyes met his, he was a stuttering mess. “it’s just—the tournament. i-i know you didn’t want me doing it and-and i don’t know i didn’t think i’d really get picked you know? then…” he made an explosion sound with his mouth and you struggled not to stifle up a giggle. you loved when he was so nervous that he just rambled on to no end and you didn’t dare to stop him just yet.

he continued on, “and i just got caught up in it? like i’d won a quidditch match, but times a hundred. maybe a thousand? and-and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone… even if the crowds are a lot. overwhelms me a bit… just wanted to hang out with you.” you looked up at him, debating whether to speak up yet. you didn’t.

“merlin, i feel horrible…” he got up from your bed and started pacing around your room. “you didn’t even want me to put my name in that cup to begin with, but my dad… he’d sounded so proud in his letter when i told him about it. i couldn’t let him down. but then you… i shouldn’t have put in.”

he continued on, “i just thought… that perhaps… i could make your proud. you always talk about how hufflepuff gets no recognition.”

me? but why?

“and i know that you didn’t even want me entering the stupid thing in the first place… but i didn’t wanna let you down.” he huffed, finally sitting back down, his fingers still fidgeting.

“you could never do that.” you simply said. it was true. there was nothing he could do that would ever disappoint you. it was quite infuriating.

“i feel like i-i already have.” that’s when you placed your hand on his, grasping his fingers to stop his nerves.

“it’s not your fault.” it really wasn’t. but you struggled to find the words as to why as you found as fingers playing with your own.

“it is. the crowds… i wanted to tell them to shove off, but i just didn’t wanna let anyone down. it’s stupid…” one of his hands found its way to his hair, tending to one of his nasty habits. once he nervously pulled at his hair and squinted his eyes shut, you finally found the words.

“it’s my fault too.” you said, he shook his head in defense. “no. i mean… i know how overwhelmed you get and i feel terrible for not realizing that soon enough. look at you! you’re a mess and i-i wish i could’ve been there. but the crowd and the people and i just-i just thought..” you felt even embarrassed to say it out loud. “you didn’t need me anymore.” you finally let out.

you could feel his eyes on you. that’s when he used his other hand to lift up your chin, bringing your wandering eyes up to his.

“i’ll always need you. look at where i’m at without you.” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.

“yeah… drunk and crawling up the girl’s dormitory stairs.” you giggled. “how’d you even manage the counter-spell?”

his eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion on his face. “i don’t quite remember…?”

“you’re not even that drunk!”

“and how do you know that?” he challenged.

“well, first of all, you managed to make it all the way up here. and second, you’re not completely incoherent.”

“yeah…” he admitted. “party’s no fun without you. i’d much rather stay here with you.” your cheeks reddened.

“well, then stay. i’ll make you a tea.” you were surprised you didn’t make a complete mess of your words.

you swiftly got up off your bed, grabbing a mug from your shelf and then a kettle, using aguamenti and then a simple water-heating charm afterwards.

“chamomile and honey?”

a/n: anyone up for a part two???? he was a lil drunk so i didn’t feel comfortable about any confessions and kissing </3 BUT I DO HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE SOOO !!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon (i don’t rmr how many of u wanted to be tagged for cedric </3)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[reyanfia]

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

[reyanfia]

Secret Admirer

Pairing: slytherin boys x reader

Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)

✰  ✰  ✰

“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted. 

You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.

“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”

You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”

“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate. 

“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”

“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”

“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”

Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”

“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”

“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”

Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up. 

“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.

“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”

Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”

“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”

“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”

You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside. 

“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse. 

“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”

You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter. 

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned. 

“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”

“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”

“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter. 

You complied, and passed the note to him. 

“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”

“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.

“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”

You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”

“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”

“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”

“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said. 

“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”

“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.” 

You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class. 

“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”

“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.” 

“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked. 

“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”

On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them. 

✰  ✰  ✰

In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning. 

“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”

She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”

You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.” 

“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”

You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.

Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it. 

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”

“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.” 

“You think so?” 

“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”

As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment. 

You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter. 

✰  ✰  ✰

Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”

You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”

“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.” 

You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.” 

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”

Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”

“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”

She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”

You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk. 

“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.” 

Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast. 

“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice. 

You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”

Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning. 

Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”

You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate. 

“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate. 

Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk. 

You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”

Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate. 

Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist. 

“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”

You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked. 

Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”

Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.” 

“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.” 

Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you. 

Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”

You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note. 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts. 

You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”

“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”

“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.” 

“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”

“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”

“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”

You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”

Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. ��Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.” 

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be. 

✰  ✰  ✰

“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl. 

You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends. 

You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise. 

Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them. 

“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”

Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too. 

“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.” 

You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now. 

“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.” 

“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly. 

“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said. 

Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”

Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate. 

“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.” 

You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”

Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased. 

You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”

“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”

“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”

You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it. 

It had a clue. 

“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read. 

“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table. 

Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”

“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow. 

“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.” 

“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes. 

“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.” 

“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.” 

“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered. 

You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off. 

Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him. 

As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork. 

You lightly kicked his leg under the table. 

Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy. 

His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips. 

You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.”

Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.” 

Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal. 

“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”

He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.” 

Your heart beat like crazy. 

“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”

Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.” 

The bell rang. 

Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”

As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back. 

His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal. 

“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”

Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”

You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”

Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”

“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”

Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests. 

Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”

You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”

He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material. 

“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”

Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”

Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”

Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”

Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous. 

“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did. 

“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”

Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake. 

Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light. 

“(Y/N)?” Theo called. 

You looked up into his eyes. 

Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you. 

“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes. 

Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).” 

You stared at him in shock. 

No way. 

“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?” 

He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”

“What?” you exclaimed. 

He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”

You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”

He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”

You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said,  “I really like you, Theo.”

Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. 

You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist. 

You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss. 

“I really like you, Theodore.”

He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”

[reyanfia]

Hi!

I saw you were taking request. Can I please ask for an imagine where reader was Cedric's Slytherin Girlfriend, maybe from a Deatheather Family (Malfoys or Lestranges) and how does she deal With the grief for Cedric knowing that her family Is on the Side of the war that supports the men that killed the love of her life.

Please and thank you in advance If you have the chance to make It!

[ angst | semi-fluff | 2.1k words ]

Nobody really knew about yours and Cedric’s relationship.

It was always reserved in dark corridors, empty classrooms, and places wherein nobody would see how the Hufflepuff boy had a knack of making you, the cold and reserved Malfoy, grin—a laugh even escaping your lips at times you were in a rather good mood.

There wasn’t any formal discussion that made it clear that this thing between you would be kept a secret, really. Instead, it was like an unspoken understanding that you two shared, perhaps due to how different your family backgrounds were and how opposite your characters were as well.

Just the mere fact that he was in Hufflepuff and you were in Slytherin was enough to raise eyebrows, and you weren’t really keen on getting more attention that you already do just because of a personal detail of your life that not everybody had the business of knowing anyway.

But all of that changed when Cedric made the bold move of asking you to go to the Yule ball with him, insisting that if you weren’t going to accept, then he was not going to go.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said with a snort, looking at him from where he’s standing beside you in the Astronomy tower, one of your usual meeting spots after classes. “You’re a Hogwarts champion. That alone forbids you to skip the event.”

“There’s no actual rule that forbids me, love,” he replied, a smirk casting his features. “So, technically, I could skip it if I wanted to.”

“Yes, but it’d be a shame if you chose not to go. It’s not every time you Hufflepuffs have something to brag about,” you teased.

“Then go with me. Accept my offer of being my date, and I’ll gladly attend.”

You watched as Cedric stepped closer to you, a hand brushing away the strands of your hair that managed to sweep over your eyes because of the wind. Your expression softened ever so slightly, the hope in his voice making your tough disposition crumble a bit.

“Are you certain?” you asked. “I mean… if I go with you, you know they’ll start talking.”

“Let them talk. I don’t care.”

“But I do.” You swallowed hard, turning away to avoid his eyes. “I don’t want them to talk bad about you. I already know what they think about me, about my family—but you, Cedric, I wouldn’t want—”

He cut you off, shaking his head and bringing a hand once more close to your face, this time to make you look at him as his thumb guided your chin to face him again. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I get to bring my lovely girl to the dance and spend a marvelous evening with her,” he said, even leaning down to press a light kiss on your lips.

You smiled, your resolve truly fading away. You raised your toes up higher in an attempt to give him another kiss, a gesture that he gladly obliged to. “Fine,” you murmured, “but if Cho Chang ends up crying in the bathroom when she sees us together, I’m not one to blame.”

Cedric laughed loudly, pulling you in for a tight embrace.

And so on the day of the Yule Ball, the entire student body was in shock at the sight of Cedric Diggory with your hand perched onto his arm. He looked proud and happy that you couldn’t help but feel less anxious about the whole thing, convinced that tonight would be the only time the noise would be loud, but after that, everybody would no longer pay your relationship with Cedric any attention.

Thankfully, you were right.

After gossip spread and students talked about the both of you for a couple days, it eventually died down, especially with the Triwizard Tournament still at its peak. However, you couldn’t say the same thing about Draco Malfoy, your cousin, who seemed to think that showing disappointment and disapproval would make you stop dating Cedric.

“He’s a Hufflepuff,” Draco drawled to you one night at the Slytherin common room. “You must be out of your mind, willingly associating yourself with him.”

“I might be,” you deadpanned, flipping through your Transfiguration book.

“Does Father know about this?”

You raised a brow at him, annoyed. “Why would Uncle Lucius be informed of who I’m dating?”

“To talk some sense in you.” He scoffed. “You obviously need it.”

Nonetheless, despite the unsolicited advice you’d often get from Draco about how you should live your life, it was generally tolerable. You’ve always been good at tuning out opinions that didn’t hold any significance to you, so you were quick to adjust at the sudden shift of being once in a secret relationship with Cedric to now with everybody knowing what’s going on.

For what it’s worth though, at least you didn’t have to sneak around the castle just to get some private time with your boyfriend. This new sense of liberty granted you the opportunity of easily hanging out with him at the courtyard or by the lake, letting others finally catch a glimpse of how Cedric could surprisingly bring out the best in you and transform you into a smiling machine.

“Your fan club’s staring,” you would tell him whenever you noticed a bunch of girls gawking at you both, whispering among themselves.

Cedric would glance at them, prompting them to pretend that they weren’t doing just that. “They’re not looking at me.”

“Oh, then are they looking at me?”

“Naturally.” He smirked. “Hasn’t anybody told you that you’re very easy on the eyes?”

As more weeks passed, you were getting used to the whole arrangement and have become more at ease with it. You began to be more affectionate towards Cedric, even when the two of you weren’t behind closed doors, and you let it slide whenever he felt particularly cheeky and stole kisses on your temple or lips. 

The attachment you had for him grew with each passing day, and that didn’t mix well with the dangerous tasks he had to do for the Triwizard Tournament. First, it was with those vicious dragons, then for the second task, you were chosen to be the person that Cedric had to save in order to advance to the next round, held hostage by merpeople at the bottom of the Black lake. 

It made you realize that the tournament truly was no small matter, and that if he wasn’t going to continue being smart about it, he might come to face a more dangerous situation.

“Be careful tomorrow, okay?” You told him the night before the final mission. “Don’t even think about winning. Just getting out of there safely would be fine.”

He chuckled, his arms that were around you to combat the cold night tightening. “Aren’t Slytherins supposed to be ambitious? Why are you discouraging me to win?”

“I’m not discouraging you to win. I’m merely warning you to get back safely.”

“And if I don’t?” There was that mischievous personality that only showed itself whenever he was with you. “Would you deprive me of attention again like you did last time when you got mad at me?”

You playfully slapped his chest, causing him to emit another chuckle. “I’ll do worse.”

“Oh, but there’s nothing worse than being ignored by the love of your life, I’m afraid.” He further teased, planting a lingering kiss on the corner of your mouth. “No worse punishment than that, unfortunately.”

But Cedric was wrong.

There was a worse punishment of being ignored by the love of your life.

It was witnessing the love of your life dead on the ground, brought by Harry Potter who shouted of Voldemort’s return, silence ensuing at the Quidditch Pitch where the maze for the last task stood. 

As Amos Diggory wailed and cried for his son, you were frozen at your spot by the stands, unable to process what was happening before you. You couldn’t look away from Cedric’s lifeless body, couldn’t bring yourself to flash your gaze elsewhere but to his eyes that remained staring above.

If it wasn’t for your friend who had the initiative of shielding you away from the sight, spinning your body to the other direction, you would have remained staring at him with this horrible feeling arising in your chest, making you want to vomit.

“Cedric,” you managed to choke out to your friend, tearing up and shaking. “Cedric—he’s… he—”

Before you could finish speaking, you collapsed on the ground, vision blurring and the whole world beneath you seemingly shaking. Your hands were getting clammy, your heart was beating louder inside your chest, and it was getting difficult to breathe. It was like your lungs were shrinking and there was nothing you could do about it.

“_____,” your friend held your shoulders, “____, let’s—”

But whatever it is that she said, it didn’t register properly inside your brain.

Because as you sat there on the ground, gasping for air and feeling your throat tighten, all you could think about was Cedric Diggory and how you were never going to be with him ever again.

****

After his death, nobody saw you again.

They didn’t see you during the memorial, they didn’t see you during the graduation, and whenever they asked your friends about your whereabouts, they told them they had no idea as well.

The truth was you had run away. You had run away from your home after confirming their connection with the Dark Lord and discovering that it was one of his followers, Peter Pettigrew, that killed Cedric. 

No matter how much your mother screamed at you, how your father threatened you from going against their will, how they had the audacity to force you to be in allegiance with Voldemort after being made aware of your relationship with Cedric—you still found the courage to rebel against them, insulting their loyalty to the wrong person before moving out and apparating as far away as possible with almost nothing but a few galleons to survive by.

Now, you resided at a small Muggle village, working as some sort of assistant to an elderly couple who ran a flourishing bakery in town.

They didn’t ask much about your past when you arrived at their doorstep, handing out the flyer that said they needed a diligent helper for the business. Instead they chose to help you out, somehow understanding that you were only a child forced into adulthood who needed guidance and care from people (in this case, perhaps them) who had the means to give it.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Mrs. West, the elderly woman, called as you said your goodbyes, telling that you were off to visit a friend.

“I won’t!” You smiled.

Walking a few steps away from the village and off to an area you knew wouldn’t have people standing around, you took out your wand from your bag and apparated to the place you made sure to come to every month—

Cedric’s grave

Even though it has almost been a year since the tragedy happened, the memory of his lifeless body was still fresh in your mind. In a way, you reckoned you never had the closure you should have had at the time of his passing, as you didn’t even have the guts to face his father, too ashamed with yourself at the knowledge that it was one of your ‘people’ that was responsible for Cedric’s untimely demise.

But things were getting better, and you were in the process of dealing with the grief that came along with losing a very important person in your life. Somehow it helped that you were no longer part of the world that took him away, that you no longer had to interact with your family that was just as vile as their leader and reminded you of the most horrible occurrence to happen in your existence. 

With a press of your lips, you crouched down and took the old flowers on the grass where his grave was, replacing it with fresh daffodils that reminded you of him. They were yellow, like the colors of his Hogwarts house, and symbolized rebirth which in the back of your head, was what you desired Cedric who you also knew was impossible to be brought back.

“Rest easy, love,” you whispered, sweeping fallen leaves off his grave stone. “I’ll try to live how you might have wanted me to.”

And you do try, every single day, carrying his memory in your heart, believing that although the ache you feel because of his absence will perhaps live on for an eternity—things will get better, just as Cedric always reminded you so.

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ author’s note: hehehe,, went in and wrote a little back story too before writing the angsty part 🥲 to the anonie who requested this, i hope you liked it!

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[reyanfia]

LIMINAL. mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary; a restless night by the lake, where longing and unspoken tension linger in the air, and neither of you dares to close the distance. words ; 1.2k warnings ; angst?, confusing dynamic

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

The night air was still, heavy with the scent of summer. The sky stretched endlessly above the Black Lake, a sea of dark velvet studded with flickering stars. The moon hung low, casting a pale glow over the rippling water, turning it into a mirror of light. And there you were, standing at the edge of it all, your silhouette sharp against the backdrop of night, your presence pulling him in like gravity.

Mattheo couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not now, not ever.

There was something about you that made him restless. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was the way you seemed so distant, even when you were near, your thoughts always miles away from the noise of the world. Maybe it was the way you laughed—soft and easy, as if you were keeping a secret from everyone else, one that he desperately wanted to know. Or maybe it was the way your eyes met his in fleeting moments, like you could see right through the mask he wore so well.

He watched you now, the breeze tousling your hair as you gazed out over the water. You were like that—quiet, contained—but there was a fire underneath, something simmering just beneath the surface. And every time Mattheo got close enough to see it, you pulled back, leaving him wondering if he was imagining it all.

He hated it. He hated the way you made him feel unsteady, like he was losing control. Control was everything to Mattheo—had been ever since he could remember. He had mastered the art of pretending, of knowing exactly what to say to get what he wanted. Girls? Easy. They were always the same—predictable, eager to fall into whatever role he needed them to play for the night. It was a game, and he knew the rules inside out.

But with you? The rules didn’t apply.

And it infuriated him.

He leaned back against a tree, his arms crossed, watching as you finally sat down on the grass, pulling your knees to your chest. The moonlight caught on the soft curve of your jaw, the delicate slope of your shoulders. His jaw clenched. He wanted to go to you, to sit beside you and ask what the hell you were thinking about. But he didn’t. You never gave him that satisfaction.

This thing between you two—it was like chasing shadows. Every time he thought he had you figured out, you slipped through his fingers, leaving him empty. And still, he couldn’t stay away.

You had become an obsession, the one thing he couldn’t conquer.

A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the soft murmur of the lake. Mattheo’s thoughts drifted, his mind wandering back to the countless nights before this one—nights spent in dark corners, your voice low and teasing, your touch always just out of reach. He remembered the way you had laughed at him once, telling him he didn’t know how to take things seriously. He had scoffed at you, brushing it off. But later, when he was alone in the quiet of his dorm, your words lingered, biting deeper than they should have.

Because maybe you were right.

Maybe he didn’t know how to take anything seriously. Maybe that’s why he was so damn terrified of whatever this was with you.

Mattheo pushed himself off the tree, his feet carrying him toward you before he even realized what he was doing. You didn’t look up when he sat down beside you, though he could feel the shift in the air between you. Tense, like you were waiting for something to happen.

His gaze slid over to you, taking in the way your lashes fluttered as you stared out at the lake. He wondered what you saw out there. What was going on inside that head of yours?

“You always come here,” he said, his voice low, almost accusing.

You didn’t look at him. “So do you.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound bitter. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m waiting for something.”

That got your attention. You turned your head, your eyes locking onto his. His heart skipped a beat—something it had no business doing—and for a second, he thought you might say something that would change everything. But you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you just looked at him, as if you were searching for something in his expression, something that never quite showed.

“You always wait,” you murmured. “But you never move.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. He had heard things like that before—people telling him he didn’t care, that he was incapable of actually feeling anything real. He had shrugged it off, letting the words slide over him like water. But when you said it, it felt different. It felt like a challenge.

Mattheo leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe that’s because every time I try to move, you pull away.”

You blinked, your lips parting slightly as if you were about to speak. But then, you didn’t. You just stared at him, and for the first time in a long time, Mattheo felt vulnerable. Exposed.

He hated it.

His hand reached out before he could stop himself, his fingers brushing against your arm. You didn’t pull away, and that was enough to make his pulse quicken. He could feel the warmth of your skin beneath his, the electric current that always seemed to crackle in the air when you were near.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than he intended.

But you didn’t. You just looked at him with those eyes that always seemed to know too much, and something inside him twisted. He didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand why he was drawn to you like this, why every girl before you had been so simple, so easy, and yet you were the one thing he couldn’t grasp.

You looked away, breaking the moment, and Mattheo’s chest tightened with frustration. He was desperate to know what you were thinking, to know why you kept him at arm’s length. Every time he tried to get closer, you slipped further away.

And yet, he couldn’t stop chasing you.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. The night was still, the world holding its breath as if waiting for something to happen.

Then you stood up, brushing the grass off your skirt. “It’s late,” you said softly, your voice distant, like you were already gone.

Mattheo’s heart sank, his hand clenching into a fist in the grass. He watched as you walked away, your figure fading into the darkness, and for a moment, he wanted to call out to you, to tell you to stop running. To tell you that he was falling—harder than he ever had before—and he didn’t know how to make you see it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he sat there, watching your shadow disappear into the night, knowing that he’d keep waiting. Just like he always did.

And maybe, one day, you’d stop pulling away.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

this was inspired by ‘each time you fall in love’ by cigarettes after sex!! also thank you @ur-local-wizard and @riddleswhcre for proof reading this a while ago i love you guys <3

[reyanfia]

And I guess I'll just miss her

Even though she isn't even really gone

But things are just different

Ever since she cut her blue hair off

[reyanfia]

oh sorry i wasn’t listening i was just thinking about how alternate powder’s hideout has rails because she actually values her life

[ID: Arcane screencaps of Jinx/Powder's hideouts; both are similar in layout, but Jinx's is more harshly and colorfully lit and does not feature guard rails. End ID]