#theodorenott

And be still wouldn’t be able to help himself as he wraps his hand round my neck, gently though<3

Oh my god anon YESSS !!! Let’s get into it, yeah?

Ti Amo

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Little Drabble of your boyfriend showing you just how much he loves you

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, College Au, bf!theo, softdom!theo, dom!theo, choking, hickies, soft slow sex, relationship, soft dom, PIV

english isn’t my first, Implied Intimacy, Slow Burn Romance, Brother’s Best Friend

                              ──  ✦  ──

There were three unspoken rules in the Zabini household:

Firstly: Don’t touch Mum’s wine glasses. Secondly : Don’t ask about the family business. And Thirdly Don’t flirt with Theodore Nott.

That third one…

Was Blaise’s personal commandment. One he gave you when you were fourteen and he caught you staring too long at Theo during a summer party. “Stay away from Nott,” he said sharply. “He’s trouble.”

You believed him. Until Theo started smiling at you like he wanted to be your trouble.

It started small.

He came over during the holidays to see Blaise and greeted you with a “Zabini” that sounded more like temptation than a surname.

At Hogwarts, he passed you in the corridors and whispered things like: “Nice earrings.” “You dropped this… unless it’s mine now.” “You always smell like strawberries. Is that on purpose?”

It was maddening.

The slow burn. The teasing. The fact that he never actually made a move… but made sure you knew he could.

One night, you found him outside the common room. Late. Alone.

You were wearing an oversized Slytherin jumper, hair messy, a book clutched to your chest. “Studying?” he asked, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. You nodded.

“Cute,” he said with a lazy smile. “Didn’t have you pegged as the academic type.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what type do you think I am?”

He tilted his head slightly. “The dangerous kind. The kind I shouldn’t like.” Your stomach flipped. Then he walked away like nothing had happened. You never talked about it.

Not when he sat next to you in the library a week later and read over your shoulder, chin in hand, watching your lips more than the book.

Not when he pulled you into an empty corridor after Charms just to say: “Tell Blaise to stop threatening me. I’m not scared of him.”

Not when you caught him watching you from across the Great Hall like he already imagined what you’d look like undressed.

No, you didn’t talk about it. Because Theodore Nott was your brother’s best friend. And this was reckless.

Then came the party. Slytherin dorms. Loud music. Way too much firewhisky. Blaise had vanished somewhere with Malfoy. And Theo found you alone. “You always hide at parties?” he asked, offering you his drink.

“I’m not hiding,” you replied. “I’m observing.”

He took a sip and handed you the glass. “Poetic.”

You smirked. “Always this persistent?”

He stepped closer. Too close.

“Want me to stop?”

You froze. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t force it.

Just left the question hanging in the air.

You looked at him really looked. Messy dark hair. Sharp jaw. Those unreadable eyes that always seemed to know more than they said.

And you whispered: “No, not really.”

The kiss was inevitable. It wasn’t sweet. It was stolen. Messy. Secret.

His hands held your face like he was trying not to break you. Yours gripped his shirt like you’d waited too long to finally let go.

After that, the world went quiet. Not because you stopped talking. Because you didn’t need words anymore.

It was in the way he looked at you in class. The way his fingers brushed yours for just a second too long. The way he walked behind you in the hallways, hand lightly ghosting the small of your back… just to see you shiver.

And you always did. The party raged on inside. Laughter. Alcohol. Loud music. Some students already asleep on the couches.

But Theo kept you away from it.

Your back was pressed against the stone wall in a dim corridor lit only by flickering torchlight. His body was close. Way too close. And on his face that expression of constant self-control… about to snap.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice low and fraying, “how hard it is not to touch you when you’re near me.”

You held your breath. Not because of what he said — but how he said it. Like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Like he was fighting himself. Blaise. The whole damn world.

“Then don’t,” you whispered.

His eyes changed. Darkened. Turned hungry.

He didn’t move. You did.

Your fingers brushed the edge of his shirt, fabric soft under your hand just an excuse to close the distance.

And he gave in.The kiss was deeper this time. Slower. Rougher.

His hands slid around your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear. Your lips moved with his in soft gasps. Your fingers tangled in his hair.

And for a moment, you forgot everything. Your last name. The rules. Blaise. There was only Theo. And the way his breath hitched as he held you like this.

When he pulled away, his eyes stayed closed, forehead resting against yours. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered like a confession.

“You shouldn’t want to,” you answered.

You both smiled a little broken, a little addicted. Because you both knew this night wasn’t ending here. He took your hand. Not like you were fragile. But like you were dangerous and he liked it.

“Come with me,” he said.

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t care. When you’re falling, the landing doesn’t matter. And with him… you weren’t scared to crash.

The secret became a routine. Sneaking around between classes. Stolen glances disguised as nothing. His hand brushing yours under the Great Hall table. Silent meetings in the Room of Requirement.

Everything carefully hidden. Everything done to make sure Blaise Zabini never found out. And it worked.

Until that night.

It was late. His room became your shared haven again, a soft couch, green curtains like his house colors. Theo had you curled up in his arms.

Kissing. Laughing. Breathing.

“I forget sometimes this isn’t allowed,” you murmured against his chest. He was quiet for a second.

“Sometimes,” he said finally, “I wish Blaise wasn’t my best friend.”

You froze slightly. “And what if he finds out?”

“He won’t take it well.”

Minutes passed. Peaceful. Dangerous.Then a knock. Three sharp bangs on the door. Theo stiffened. You sat up, heart racing. “Don’t open it,” you whispered.

But the door… opened anyway.

The magic of the Room let him in.

Blaise.

Standing in the doorway. In his pajamas. Wand in hand. Face unreadable. Fury. Disbelief. Hurt.

No one spoke.

The silence was louder than any scream. His eyes went from you to Theo. Then back to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” was all he said.

Theo stood up slowly. Didn’t hide you. Didn’t run.

“Let me explain—”

“How long?” Blaise asked you directly. Your voice barely made it out.

“A few weeks.”

He laughed. No humor. Just bitterness. “A few weeks,” he repeated, looking at Theo. “And you didn’t say a word. After everything?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Blaise snapped. “A fling? A way to piss me off? Or do you just want to prove you can take everything — even my sister?”

“It’s not a game,” you said firmly. Theo looked at you like you just saved him. Blaise didn’t.

“Of course it’s not. Because you don’t fall for just anyone, do you?

Then Theo broke the silence. “I’m in love with her.”

Your breath caught. Not from shock. But because… he’d never said it out loud before.

Blaise blinked like he’d just been hit with a curse.

“I can’t listen to this,” he muttered. “Not from either of you.”

And he left.

The next day, you found him outside the library. He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just… tired.

“Do you love him?” he asked. Straight to the point.

“Yes,” you said.

“And he loves you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why hide it?”

“We were scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of losing you.”

That made him flinch. Because he didn’t expect that answer. Not from you. “You’re the most important person in my life,” you said.

“And you were mine,” he replied.

There was a long silence. Then he said: “If he breaks your heart… he won’t face me as a friend. He’ll face me as your brother. And he won’t recognize me when I’m done with him.”

You nodded. “I know.”

He walked away, hand on the door but paused.

And with his back to you, said quietly: “I always knew if someone could make Nott lose his mind… it’d be you.”

And then he was gone.

Not enough 

Ex!Theodore Nott

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You didn’t have to knock him off his broom, you absolute prat!” I snapped, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the corridor.

Theodore Nott leaned casually against the cold, grey wall, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he made no move to hide the satisfaction in his expression.

Students passing by shot glances in our direction, whispers trailing in our wake like smoke. I barely noticed. I was late for class—Transfiguration, if anyone cared—but honestly, I didn’t give a fig. Professor McGonagall would let me off. She always did. I was her favourite, after all.

“I mean, really, Theodore,” I said, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Knocking Cedric Diggory off his broom because… what? He looked at me too long?”

Theo shrugged, entirely too nonchalant. “Exactly that. He was staring. I didn’t like it. Problem?”

I let out a loud, incredulous laugh. “You do realise how utterly ridiculous you sound, don’t you?”

“Call me Theodore again,” he said, his smirk widening like he’d just scored a point in some invisible game.

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly—”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, sweetheart,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning a fraction closer.

I bit my lip, suppressing a groan. “Enough, Theod—Theo,” I corrected myself, not wanting to get dragged into his usual verbal sparring.

“You’re so adorable when you’re cross,” he said, tilting his head, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “My little Hufflepuff.”

I bristled. “I’m not your anything, Nott.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk only growing. “Ooh, so now we’re on first-name terms. Progress.”

“Will you just shut up?” I snapped, though my voice carried a touch more weariness than real anger.

“Suits you, amore,” he said with mock fondness, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve really got to get to class, but… for the love of Merlin, just leave Cedric alone, okay?”

Theo’s brow quirked, and he repeated the name slowly, like tasting a rare wine. “Ced,” he said casually.

“Cedric,” I corrected, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“There we go,” he murmured, lips twitching into another small, infuriating smirk.

“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, turning sharply and striding toward the Transfiguration classroom.

“It sure does!” he called after me, his voice echoing down the corridor.

I scoffed again, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

He was so infuriating. Always had been. Who did he think he was, getting jealous over me like this? He couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to. Not anymore.

Yet, as much as I wanted to scowl at him from afar, I couldn’t quite shake the way my chest tightened at the sight of him—smug, insufferable, maddeningly confident Theodore Nott.

----

“Mate, stop staring,” Mattheo muttered, rolling his eyes as he leaned lazily against the cool, green-and-silver walls of the Slytherin common room. The firelight flickered across his smirk, though there was a faint edge of amusement in it.

Theo Nott didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed across the room, sharp and calculating, on the figure twirling gracefully in the glow of the chandeliers.

Y/n.

And she wasn’t alone. Cedric Diggory, golden-haired and impossibly charming as ever, had her laughing, spinning her around with a carelessness that made Theo’s jaw tighten. It was harmless, of course. To her. But to Cedric, Theo knew, it was different. There was more than just friendship there—a closeness that Theo couldn’t stomach seeing.

“Who bloody invited him?” Theo finally spat, voice low and dangerous as he took a slow sip of his drink, careful to keep his composure.

Mattheo raised a brow, tilting his head with lazy curiosity. “Diggory? Probably Pansy,” he said with a shrug, as if it explained everything. His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know how she is—always trying to stir something up.”

Theo’s eyes narrowed. “Pansy, Pansy, Pansy… she’s got no idea what she’s messing with.” His voice was cold, controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “It’s not a game, Mattheo. That boy… that Hufflepuff…” He gritted his teeth, the words almost catching in his throat. “He doesn’t belong in my sight when it comes to her.”

Mattheo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax, Theo. It’s just a dance.”

Just a dance?

It wasn't just a dance. 

Theo’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t reply, though his mind churned like a storm. Every laugh, every twirl, every glance Cedric dared to steal—Theo felt it all. It was unfair, irrational even, and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

From across the room, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy lounged in various states of boredom and amusement, their whispers occasionally carrying snippets of commentary that Theo deliberately ignored. He didn’t need their approval—or their interference.

His hands tightened around his glass, the amber liquid sloshing slightly, and he finally muttered under his breath, almost to himself, “She’s mine. She always was. And no bloody Hufflepuff’s going to change that.”

Mattheo gave him a sidelong glance, smirking knowingly. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it, mate. But then again… that’s you.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, but a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps. But the dance wasn’t over, and neither was his claim.

--

“You wear that for him?”

The words cut through the quiet corridor like a blade, making me stumble back a step and gasp.

I had gone outside the party, escaping into the dorm hallway for a moment of air, a reprieve from the heat, the music, the laughter. From Cedric. From Theo. From those impossible, familiar eyes that always seemed to find me, no matter where I tried to hide.

The corridor was empty—or so I thought.

“I—hm?” I murmured softly, spinning around to meet him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Theo Nott stood there, just a few feet away, his dark eyes sharp and calculating, dangerous and familiar all at once. The same eyes I had once adored, the same eyes that had ended everything that night, leaving me raw, empty, and aching in a way I’d never thought possible.

“Diggory. The skirt. It’s short,” he said sharply, his gaze piercing. “You wear it for him?”

“No…” I trailed off, my voice smaller than I intended. My stomach knotted, and my fingers curled into the folds of my dress.

“Oh, really?” He raised a brow, dark and unnerving. “Then who?”

I swallowed hard, the answer hanging in the air before I dared to whisper it: “You.”

He didn’t answer at once. Just stood there, brow raised, silent, like he was weighing something too heavy to say.

“Thought you quit,” I said, nodding toward the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“I did,” he replied, shrugging with a casualness I knew was nothing but a mask.

I frowned. “Can I have one?”

He glanced at me, surprised. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since we broke up,” I said lightly, shrugging, trying to appear indifferent, though my chest ached. Since reminds me of you. Since smells like you. Since keeps me from going mad thinking of you. The words caught in my throat before I could say them. I couldn’t let him know how close I still felt, how painfully close.

“Well… you’re quitting,” he said sharply, voice cutting through the stillness of the corridor.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine, cold seeping through my skin.

He just shrugged. “Just did.”

“You broke up with me, Theodore.” My voice cracked, raw with anger and hurt, the tears I’d been holding back pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I did.” He exhaled slowly, almost quietly. “But… you’re still quitting.”

“You don’t get to do that,” I hissed, fists tightening at my sides, shaking with frustration and sorrow. “You don’t get to get jealous, get protective, get possessive… like you even care—”

“I do care,” he cut me off, sudden and sharp, throwing the cigarette to the stone floor and grinding it out with his heel. His voice was low, raw, desperate, and I could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I do.”

Then rage, heartbreak, and confusion collided inside me, leaving me trembling. “Then why?” I demanded, voice rising despite the cold creeping into my bones. “Why did you leave me? Why now? Why—why do this to me?”

“I had to!” he shouted, the words echoing down the empty corridor. “I wasn’t… good enough for you, and you know it!”

“You are enough for me, Theo!” I cried, the tears spilling freely now, burning paths down my cheeks. “You’re everythingI need. You always have been.”

“I don’t know how to do the… boyfriend stuff,” he admitted quietly, voice cracking with the weight of his own guilt and shame.

“But you do, Theo,” I said, stumbling a step closer, heart pounding so hard I thought he could hear it. “You brought me flowers, kissed me when I least expected it, made me laugh when I felt like I’d never smile again—you…”

“That’s not enough,” he scoffed, shaking his head, voice bitter. “You want more, and I… I made you cry. I hurt you, mi amore. That’s not fair. I can’t… I can’t do that to you anymore.”

“But I love you,” I said, my voice breaking in two, raw and desperate. “I don’t care about anything else, I just… I just want you. I need you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, voice caught, almost tender, almost breaking me open with hope. And for a brief moment, my heart soared. Perhaps this meant something. Perhaps there was a way back. Perhaps he would stay.

I imagined it—the small morning kisses, the warmth of him sitting beside me at breakfast, laughter spilling between us in the Great Hall. The hope made my chest ache, a tender, sharp kind of ache.

Then he swallowed hard, wiping at a stray tear, and all that hope drained like water from my hands.

“But… I’m not good enough for you,” he said, the words heavy and final.

Not good enough.

The words fell into my chest like stones, crushing every ounce of hope, leaving a hollow ache that seemed to expand inside me.

“I never will be. You need to accept it. We… we can’t be together.”

And with that, he turned away, the faint click of his shoes against the stone floor echoing in the empty corridor. Leaving me frozen, trembling, alone.

I sank to the floor, my hands covering my face, sobbing quietly, the hurt so raw it burned. My mind was a tangle of confusion, heartbreak, and longing. The jealousy. The guilt. The desire. It all swirled together, cruel and unforgiving.

My chest ached. My stomach churned. My heart… my heart felt empty, hollow, as if it had been ripped out entirely and left to bleed in the cold Hogwarts hallway.

More than just a simple, ordinary friend

Warnings: Confusing feelings, more than friends? Parties, cigarettes, and cute love

For as long as I can remember, the world has been silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The Slytherin dungeons don't teach you to laugh. They teach you to observe. To be calculating. To not feel too much.

And then she arrived.

Theodore Nott never believed in destinies. But he did believe in statistics. And statistically, it made no sense that a luminous, boisterous, summer-bright Ravenclaw would decide to sit next to him in the library.

The first time she spoke to him, it was because she needed a book.

The second time, because she liked the silence that surrounded him.

The third time… just because.

And that's how it all began.

She's from Rowena Ravenclaw. Intelligent. Curious. Always with a book under her arm.

But she's not cold like many in her house. She's laughter in the corridors. She's helping the first-years with their homework. She's dancing at parties, not caring who's watching.

And she calls him "Theo" as if that name weren't a privilege.

Theo…

No one else calls him that.

When she smiles, it's as if the world can't be broken. As if there were no shadows in the corridors. And he watches her from the darkness.

Always.

He smokes behind the dungeons when he needs to think. Smoke is easier than words.

Once she found him there.

"That's bad for you," she told him, sitting down beside him without asking permission.

"So am I," he replied.

She just rolled her eyes.

"You're dramatic."

He doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand that every time she smiles, he thinks about things he shouldn't.

About how her last name would look next to his.

About how their children would sound laughing.

About what it would be like to see her walking toward him… not as a friend.

It's ridiculous.

Pathetic.

But when she speaks, he listens as if she were the only real voice in the castle.

He hates parties.

He hates the noise, the music, the excess.

But he goes when she goes.

At the last party in the Ravenclaw common room, she was dancing with a group of friends. She laughed. She twirled. She sparkled.

He was in the corner, leaning against the wall, an untouched glass in his hand.

Watching.

A Hufflepuff boy took her waist and twirled her around.

Theodore's jaw tightened.

He has no right.

They're nothing.

But still, his blood boils.

Because she is his light.

And lights attract everyone.

When she saw him in the corner, she left the group and walked over to him.

"Are you having fun?"

"I hate this."

She laughed.

"I know."

And without warning, he took her hand.

She dragged him onto the dance floor.

Theodore Nott doesn't dance.

But with her…

He did.

Awkward. Stiff. Uncomfortable.

She was laughing.

And for a second, the world stopped being silent.

The problem with being in love in silence is that it hurts in silence.

One afternoon, in the library, she rested her head on his shoulder as he read.

It was innocent.

Friendly.

But for him, it was devastating.

Because he closed his eyes.

And imagined himself twenty years later. A quiet house. Her barefoot in the kitchen. Children with her smile.

And then he remembered that to her, he was just her serious, grumpy friend.

"Theo?" she asked gently.

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever fall in love?"

His heart stopped.

"It's not practical."

"That's sad."

If only she knew.

If only she knew that he was in love like a child. Like someone who never learned to love halfway.

Everything changed the night she cried.

She'd had an argument with a friend. Nothing serious. But enough to break her spirit.

She looked for him.

She always looks for him.

"Can I stay here?" she asked, entering his dormitory unceremoniously.

He nodded.

She sat on his bed. Then she lay down.

And he stood there, stiff, unsure what to do.

"Theo…" she murmured. "Why do you always look at me like you're thinking about something sad?"

"Because I'm thinking about you.

Because I'm thinking that someday someone will kiss you.

That someone will hold you.

That someone will have what I want."

He sat down beside her.

"I'm not sad."

She looked up.

And for the first time, she saw him.

Not the cold Slytherin.

Not the bitter boy.

She saw him.

"You're alone," she whispered.

He didn't answer.

Because if he spoke, he would ruin everything.

Weeks passed.

He kept it to himself.

Until one night, after another party, she was sitting next to him in the Astronomy Tower.

The wind stirred her hair.

"Do you know what I like about you?" she said.

"No."

"That you never judge me."

If only she knew.

"You're always there," he continued. "Even though you're dark and dramatic."

Dark and dramatic.

His light and his night.

The silence grew heavy.

And for the first time in his life, Theodore Nott decided not to calculate.

"I'm in love with you."

He said it flat. Direct. Without embellishment.

She remained motionless.

"Theo…"

"You don't have to say anything," he continued, looking straight ahead. "I just needed you to know. I can't keep pretending I'm just your friend while I think about a future where you're with me."

The breeze seemed to stop.

"Since when?"

"Always."

She lowered her gaze. Processing.

And then she did something unexpected.

She moved closer.

Not as a friend.

As something more.

She cupped his face in her hands.

"You're an idiot for not telling me sooner."

The world ceased to be silent.

"Does that mean…?"

She smiled.

"That maybe I've been thinking about you more than I should, too."

It wasn't a passionate kiss.

It was gentle.

Tremulous.

Real.

And when they parted, Theodore Nott knew one thing for certain:

Night doesn't disappear when the sun rises.

But when the sun chooses to stay…

Night ceases to be cold.

AND.

What did you think? I think it's a little confusing, but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story is dedicated to that anonymous person who gave me the fantastic idea. I hope they're excited about your dreams, and anyone is welcome to send me ideas!

description: your boyfriend hasn’t fucked you in weeks and you’re tired of it, your best friend fred helps you get laid!

paring: theodore nott x fem! reader fred weasley x reader platonic!

contains: smut! 18+, minors dni, mentions of alcohol, sex, p in v

w.c: 1.1k

|an: came up w this idea last night and i luv luv luv it! hope u guys do too.

“cmon, fred, please? it’s been weeks. i’d do it for you, you know?" you’d said to your best friend, fred weasley, during lunch. it has been weeks since your boyfriend last fucked you. you don’t know why or what’s gone wrong. but you were convinced it was some sick game he was playing. he wouldn’t encourage your sexual behaviors, nor initiate anything, and you were fed up.

although, now that you really think about it, it might’ve been your fault, considering the last pillow talk session you and theo had, you told him jokingly that you’d probably last longer than him without sex.

you lied.

you’re growing desperate. you tried to ease the ache in your lower stomach by attempting to please yourself, but it’s not the same; it’s not him. you can’t put up.

“you’re absolutely nuts if you think i’m going to purposefully make theodore nott jealous. do you want me dead? is that what this is?!” fred exclaimed with a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “you think you know a gal,” he tutted, shaking his head.

you’d pressed your lips into a thin line, reaching into your head to find something that would make fred fold. “i’ll do your homework for a week? two? brew the potions for yours and george’s pranks? "c'mon freddie, be reasonable here.” you’d said with a pout.

“how about covering the cost of my funeral?” he’d deadpanned with a slight smirk. ugh, you’d thought. i guess i’ll have to…

“fine! i’ll do yours and george’s homework for a month so you can work on products. and make sure theo doesn’t do anything rash.” you exclaimed, god, your social life is going to be over, but at least you’ll finally get some dick.

fred’s lips tugged into a wicked grin. "sounds absolutely perfect. see you tonight. pleasure doing business with you, by the way!” he yelled out to you, already walking away, to go grab george and tell him the great news.

you’d sighed, hands holding your head from faceplanting into the hardwood table. it’ll be worth it, you told yourself.

this might, hands down. be the best you’ve ever looked in your life. your low-rise jean mini skirt hugged your hips and thighs perfectly. black long sleeve fitted crop top outlining your breasts and showing just the right amount of stomach, and black knee-high boots covering your calves. you looked to die for.

you do have to admit that you are a little nervous, though. fred and theo are both very unpredictable people. you had just hoped that fred wouldn’t cross the line too much and that theo would do nothing more than drag you up to his dorm and fuck you. considering this is a slytherin party, your chances of this outcome were maybe seventy-six percent?, which is good enough for you!

after overthinking and shuffling through every possible outcome, you finally stepped out of your dorm to meet fred in the common room so you could make your way to the slytherin common room together.

fred took a bow, as if you were queen lizzie herself, and offered you a hand to lead you down the last two steps of the staircase.

“madam?” he’d said in a posh voice, causing you to let out a laugh and take his hand to walk down the last of the steps. as you reached the bottom, he dropped the act and let out a laugh.

“no, but really. you do look good. i’d say there’s a great probability you’re getting laid tonight, with my help especially.” he’d said playfully and nudged you as you both exited the common room together.

“a girl can hope!” you’d whispered, now sneaking around the hallways with him to reach the slytherin common room.

“this is ridiculous!” you whisper-yelled into fred’s ear over the loud music blaring over the common room. you both hadn’t seen theo once tonight, and you and fred have been all over each other all night. getting close, whispering in each other's ears, taking shots together, even dancing together—nothing. the party was now coming to a close, and you still haven’t seen theo.

“i know, you’d think he’d show his face by now, or kick my ass or something" fred responded with his hand placed on the small of your back to get you as close as possible to him, so he could hear you better, of course.

theo had seen everything. he leaned against the wall in front of you covered by dancing bodies. he was alone, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his hand practically crushing the cup full of alcohol he’d had since the party began. he had a sick feeling in his stomach; he couldn’t even try to take a sip of his alcohol; afraid it would give him the courage to stomp over there and beat fred weasley’s ass. he saw everything. the touches, whispers, and dancing. all of it, and now he stood over you, hand on your back, bodies pressed together, whispering into each other's ears over the loud music? that’s enough.

theo stomped his cigarette out, slammed his cup on a nearby table, and made his way over to you and fred.

“you’re coming with me,” he’d said under his breath, grabbing your arm and whisking you away from your friend. shocked, you’d said, and did nothing but let him take you upstairs. you hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell fred bye, but oh well. he’ll be just fine. he did his duty, and you’ll have to do yours too. at least it was a mission accomplished.

“fuck, theo.” you pleaded and moaned against his neck as he pounded into you at a rapid and unforgiving pace, the both of you slick with sweat as you'd been at it for hours.

“you like that? or would you rather have fred’s cock pounding into you like this? huh?” theo growled out as he pulled out, awaiting your response.

“no— no no theo baby please. just you, only you.” you’d babble, hating the feeling of emptiness he’d left you with.

theo plunged his cock back into your wet cunt, continuing his harsh pace and letting out a breathy laugh. “that’s what i thought.”

all you could manage to do was moan and tighten your grip on his shoulders as you both neared your climaxes.

you could feel your brain go absolutely numb as his pace never faltered. you’d managed to breathe out a "theo... im gonna—“

“cum, on my cock, baby.” theo said between thrusts, his own release about to reach a close as his hips began to stutter.

“theo!” you’d screamed out as the tightness in your stomach snapped. the yell of his name that escaped your lips, pushing him over the edge as well.

friends!to!lovers

fluff, pining, hidden feelings, angry love confession

──────── 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ────────

Theodore Nott had been your best friend since, well, forever.

You’d known him—and the rest of your small circle—since you were old enough to walk across polished floors and mumble polite greetings to people your parents wanted to impress. It came with the territory of being born into a pureblood family, something your parents valued far more than they ever valued you. To them, you weren’t a person so much as proof that the family line continued.

At least you hadn’t been alone in it. Theo and the others had grown up the same way, taught to sit straight, speak evenly, and never, ever show weakness. You’d all endured the same lectures, the same expectations, and the same cold kind of love that made you question what warmth was supposed to feel like. 

But out of that shared misery came something real—him. Theodore Nott. Your quiet salvation in a world that demanded perfection.

Maybe that was why the sharp ache in your chest, the one that had been festering for days, burned hotter now as you watched him turn away from you, again.

A week. It had been a week of this. Dodged glances, clipped replies, and the kind of silence that felt deliberate. The easy rhythm you once shared had vanished, replaced by distance that felt crueler than any insult. His smiles had gone tight around the edges, his words polite but cold. And every time he slipped away without a word, it was as if the air left the room with him.

You swallowed hard, tightening your grip on your bag as you walked in step with Pansy down the corridor. The echo of your footsteps filled the quiet between you, bouncing off the stone walls.

“Pans?” you asked, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to.

She hummed absentmindedly, her hand buried in her bag as she muttered something about a quill—or maybe a notebook.

“Has Teddy said anything about me?”

That got her attention. Pansy glanced up, meeting your eyes just as you both stopped in front of the Slytherin common room entrance. The corridor around you was empty, the torches flickering low, throwing shadows that seemed to stretch with the silence. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying not to look as small as you felt.

“No,” she said finally, her brow creasing. “Why?”

You gave a weak shrug. “He hasn’t spoken to me in a week. It’s not exactly hard to notice that.”

Pansy snorted, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “It’s Theo. He gets moody sometimes.”

“Not with me." The words came out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended.

Pansy paused at that, lips pressing together as she studied you. “Maybe he’s mad about Evan.”

“Evan?” Your eyebrows knitted together.

Evan Hawthorn. Ravenclaw Keeper. Same year as you all. The boy you’d been seeing regularly for the last month and a half. It wasn’t anything serious—not really—but it was nice. Easy. Simple.

“Why would Theo be mad about Evan?” you asked. “They get along.”

“Do they?” Pansy tilted her head slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flicked over you like she was two steps ahead in a game you hadn’t realized you were playing.

“Yes, they do,” you repeated, firmer this time.

Pansy exhaled then, the tension in her shoulders softening as she looked at you. It was that rare, gentle look she only ever gave in moments like this—when she dropped the sharp comments and actually seemed to care.

“I know the two of you are best friends,” she said carefully, her tone slower now, “but have you ever, you know… thought that it could be more?”

“More?” you repeated, as if saying the word might somehow make it make sense.

“More,” she echoed simply, watching you too closely.

You blinked—once, twice—trying to think of what to say.

Of course you’d thought about it. Not often, and never on purpose, but sometimes the idea slipped through the cracks when you weren’t paying attention. It crept in quietly, curling around the edges of your heart when Theo laughed a certain way, or when his shoulder brushed yours and neither of you moved away. It sat in your throat on long nights when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world felt far away.

But you always pushed it down. Because Theodore Nott was your best friend. Nothing more. He couldn’t be. If you let it be more—if you let yourself want more—you could lose the only person who had ever felt like home.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice steady. “Teddy doesn’t see me like that, Pansy.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes but not unkindly. “Think what you want,” she said, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder, “but don’t complain when he starts ignoring you. You can’t have it both ways.”

Before you could respond, she turned and stepped into the common room, the tall stone door swinging shut behind her with a deep, echoing thud.

──────── 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ────────

You had a plan.

Not a particularly good one—or even a fully thought-out one—but a plan nonetheless.

Slytherin had Quidditch practice tonight, and you knew it ended at eight. Theo, being captain, always stayed behind after everyone else had gone. He’d double-check the equipment, tidy up the lockers, sometimes just sit on the benches long after the lights dimmed.

That was your chance.

You blew a strand of hair out of your face and marched toward the Quidditch pitch, the chill of the evening air nipping at your cheeks. The sound of your shoes against the gravel path echoed softly, your heart thudding a little faster with each step.

He can’t ignore you when he’s cornered, you told yourself.

By the time you reached the locker rooms, most of the lights were already off. The faint scent of wet grass and broom polish hung in the air. Just as you were a few steps away, the final light flicked out—and the door opened.

Theo stepped into view, looking startled to find you there. His hair was damp with sweat, a few strands sticking to his forehead. His uniform was untucked and smeared with dirt, his knees stained from the field.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough, guarded.

“We need to talk,” you said firmly, planting your feet. There was no room for argument in your tone.

He blinked, glancing back toward the pitch as if hoping someone would rescue him. “Look, I really don’t have time—”

“Then make time, Teddy!” The words came out louder than you meant, sharp with frustration. “You’ve been ignoring me for days now!”

He scoffed, tossing his towel into his bag. “Just because I’ve been busy doesn’t mean you can act like a child.”

That stung. More than you wanted it to.

His eyebrows were drawn together, a crease cutting across his forehead, but the way his nose scrunched gave him away. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was lying.

“You haven’t been busy,” you said quietly.

“Yes, I have—”

“No, you haven’t!” you interrupted, stepping closer. “Theodore, you have not been busy. You’ve been avoiding me. You barely look at me anymore, and when you do, it’s like you’d rather be anywhere else. I thought I was your best friend. Best friends don’t ignore each other and pretend like it’s fine!”

Your voice cracked at the end, the sound echoing faintly in the empty field.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy—filled with all the words you’d both been avoiding. Theo’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides, and you could see the conflict flicker across his face.

He wanted to say something. You just didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Then explain it to me,” you shot back. “Because I’m trying, Theo. I’m really trying, but you’re not making it easy.”

Lightning cracked across the sky—loud, angry, splitting the clouds open with a jagged flash.

You felt the first drops of rain hit your cheeks, cold against the heat rising in your face, but you didn’t care. Not anymore.

Theo stayed silent. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed anywhere but on you. The sound of rain began to build, tapping harder against the ground, soaking through your robes.

You laughed then, a sharp, bitter sound that didn’t feel like you at all. “Fine, Theodore. Don’t tell me. Don’t talk to me. Act like you don’t even know me for all I care.” You threw your hands up, the motion half-angry, half-exhausted. “I’m done.”

You turned, determined to walk away, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine as the rain began to pour in earnest. The sky roared overhead, and for a moment, all you could hear was the storm.

Then—

“You think this is easy for me?”

His voice cut through the rain like thunder, raw and loud enough to make you stop.

You turned back slowly, water dripping from your hair, eyes wide. “What?”

Theo stepped toward you, his boots splashing through the puddles. His hair clung to his forehead, raindrops catching on his lashes as his chest rose and fell fast. There was a tremor in his voice now, part anger, part desperation.

“You think I can just—just sit here and watch you be with him,” he said, his words tripping over each other, “while I’m fucking in love with you?”

The world seemed to stop. The storm, the rain, the trembling in your hands—everything froze around that one sentence.

You stood there, staring at him, your chest constricting so tightly you could barely breathe. “Teddy…” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

But he shook his head, water flying from the ends of his hair. “You think it’s easy?” he demanded, his tone cracking under the weight of it. “Watching you laugh with him, hold his hand, pretend like he gets you? He doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know you the way I do.”

His voice broke on the last word.

“I’ve been here,” he said quietly, eyes finally meeting yours, glassy with something more than rain. “For years. Just—here. And I’m so bloody tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

The thunder rolled again, softer this time, like the world itself was holding its breath for what came next.

Theo took another step closer, his shoulders tense, rainwater running down the side of his face.

“I tried to stop it,” he went on, voice rough. “Merlin knows I did. You were my best friend. The one person I didn’t want to mess things up with. But then you’d smile, or laugh at something stupid, and it was over. Every time, it was over. I kept thinking I could hide it, that it would fade, but it never did. It just got worse.”

You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

“I thought if I stayed away, it would help. That maybe I’d get over it, or at least stop thinking about you all the damn time. But then I’d see you—” his voice broke again, hands curling at his sides, “—and all I could think about was how it wasn’t me making you smile like that.”

“Theo—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“I know you don’t feel the same. I know that. And I swear, I wasn’t going to say anything, I just—” His words were tumbling out now, fast and uneven. “I couldn’t keep watching you with him, like I’m invisible, like none of it mattered—like we don’t matter—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Before he could say another word, you stepped forward, closing the space between you and pressed your lips to his.

For a second, everything stilled. The rain, the thunder, the chaos in your chest—all of it fell away.

Theo froze, eyes wide, a small sound caught in his throat. Then he exhaled shakily against your mouth, his hands hovering before finally settling at your waist, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he held too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, rainwater dripping down your faces.

“That’s not what you think,” you whispered, voice trembling. “It’s never been easy for me either.”

Theo blinked, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. His lips parted, but no words came out—just another breath that sounded half like a laugh, half like disbelief.

He looked at you for a long moment, rain dripping from his lashes. Then he stepped closer, slow and hesitant this time. His hand lifted, fingertips brushing against your jaw, barely there—like he still wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly. “And I will.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into his touch, eyes closing as the storm around you faded into something softer—something almost peaceful.

pairing: theo nott x reader, mattheo riddle x reader

summary: theo is watching how your relationship with mattheo is slowly destroying you. theo just hopes you would realize how much more he loves you.

warning: toxic relationship, use of language

I feel like Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle both smoke and drink a lot.

But Mattheo drinks way more than Theo does,

and Theo smokes way more than Mattheo does.

And that’s how they deal with their problems.

Mattheo downs a bottle of whiskey.

And Theo chain-smokes a pack of cigarettes.

Because Mattheo is extremely impulsive and intense, so when he’s spiraling, he needs something that works fast. That will give him that instant escape and numbing. And alcohol does that. It drowns out the noise and gives him that detached feeling so he doesn’t have to deal with his own thoughts. at least for now…

But Theo, on the other hand, is more… Internalized. He doesn’t explode like Mattheo, he implodes. And smoking is repetitive. Grounding. The ritual of lighting a cigarette, inhaling, exhaling… it gives him a sense of control even when everything else feels out of his control.

Where Mattheo wants to drown everything out, Theo wants to slow everything down.

"𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱."

but they never really do.

Such a healthy duo of best friends, right?

Just some random thoughts, but I could write a whole essay about it. (I probably will)