[theosdoll]

theo’s doll.

bella. she/her. 20s. ravenclaw. warm tea. fawn prints. lorenzo zurzolo. aries. new york. striped shirts. spring. cherry lipstick. stargazing. writing. enfp.

𝓜asterlist.

⭐️ recent work: bf!theo x sick!reader hc

© theosdoll on tumblr, 2026. i do not allow any reposts of my work or any translation. please DO NOT copy.

[theosdoll]

theodore nott headcanons.

pairing: boyfriend!theodore nott x sick!reader

summary: in which, theodore takes care of you when you’re sick.

tags/warning: fluff, established relationship, mentions of smoking, mentions of food, mentions of throwing up, nicknames, grammars

a/n: hi it’s been a while! let me know if you want the reverse version (reader taking care of sick!theo) 🥹

boyfriend!theodore nott… who didn’t enjoy pda very much but if you were feeling sick in class, he wouldn’t hesitate to let you rest your head on his shoulders and kisses your temple

boyfriend!theodore nott… who immediately pull you into his arms the second he feels the heat radiating off your forehead

“baby… you’re burning,” or “you should’ve told me, mia cara,”

boyfriend!theodore nott… who, if he found out you were sick the night before, would skip his lesson the next morning just to take care of you

boyfriend!theodore nott… who cleans you up every time you throw up in the toilet and carry you to bed after

boyfriend!theodore nott… who gladly accepts your extra affectionates and clinginess whenever you’re sick—needy cuddles, soft touches, small kisses on his chest, legs tangled under the sheets

boyfriend!theodore nott… who gets genuinely anxious when you’re not showing any signs of feeling better after a few days

boyfriend!theodore nott… who will go through his mother’s old recipe books to find the exact remedy tea she always used to make for him when he was younger

boyfriend!theodore nott… who feels his heart swelled with adoration, watching your sleepy eyes as you take your remedies

boyfriend!theodore nott… who refuses to attend any classes until you feels better

boyfriend!theodore nott… who wakes up early before you in the mornings to make your favourite breakfast in bed

“it’s not bland, darling. you’re just sick,” he said with a small grin on his lips before bringing another spoonful of your favorite soup to your mouth.

boyfriend!theodore nott… who only slips out of bed for a smoke when you’re asleep, returning all freshly cleaned up and tuck himself against you again

boyfriend!theodore nott… who speaks very carefully and softly as he caresses your hair while you lay on his chest

boyfriend!theodore nott… who lets you wear his sweaters and shirts just because you once said they make you feel better 

boyfriend!theodore nott… who finally gives in and watches your favorite silly muggle movies with you, secretly enjoying them more than he’d ever admit

boyfriend!theodore nott... who promises to bring you on a picnic date after you’re feeling better

boyfriend!theodore nott… who insists on kissing you on the mouth after your poor sickie attempt to push him away

“you’re going to get sick, teddy,” you said as he mindlessly pressed a kiss on your lips. “i don’t care. in fact, let me get sick so i can spend the rest of the day here with you.”

boyfriend!theodore nott… who holds you close to him in bed for endless cuddles

boyfriend!theodore nott... who wishes he could take all your pain into himself the second he notices tears threatening to fall in your eyes

boyfriend!theodore nott… who takes your hands in his larger ones and massage them for comfort while he tells you stories from his childhood with his mom

boyfriend!theodore nott… who leans in and murmur sweet nothings before pressing peppered kisses to your cheeks, chin, nose, forehead, and finally your lips

“i’ve got you... i’m not going anywhere,” / “feel better soon, bella,” / “you gets so adorable when you’re sick,” / “tell me where it hurts,” / “wish i could take it away from you, baby”

boyfriend!theodore nott… who watches as you drifted to dreamland and kisses your forehead every night

boyfriend!theodore nott… who wakes up coughing with a flushed red nose, sneezing over and over again while instinctively reaching for you

boyfriend!theodore nott… who falls ill right after you’re healed just so you can take care of him

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[lxve-fool]

pairing; hockey player!mattheo riddle x reader

summary; mattheo hates being touched, and he especially hates being patched up after games. but what can he do when you insist?

warnings; reader is a bit whimsical but she’s a genius, modern au, high school au, fluff, mentions of blood

note; everything i know about hockey is from lynn painter so

Mattheo Riddle had little interest in anything that wasn’t hockey.

More often then not, he’d forget the names of the many girls who approached him at parties, turn in assignments weeks after their due dates, and ditch class just to get more time on the ice.

With a full ride to the university with the best hockey team in the nation and a varsity squad bound to take the championship, Mattheo was content to cruise through senior year with just his stick and a few bruises.

Those cuts and bruises especially didn’t bother him, and he’d much rather add on to the plethora of scars littered across his skin than have anyone’s gloved fingers poking around his body.

That was one more thing that didn’t concern him, having his injuries treated by the snobby nurses who creeped around the bench during games.

Which is why after a particularly violent game where he’d been sentenced to the penalty box more times than he could count, he veered away from his teammates heading towards the locker room. His head was pounding, and the cut on his lip was stopping him from moistening them. The slash above his eyebrow stung every time he scowled at a passerby.

Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown his helmet to the floor to launch himself at the guy who’d shoved Nott into the boards. Maybe the purpling bruise under his eye and the throbbing in his nose was a telltale sign that, after knocking a tooth out of one of his opponent’s mouth, he should get his injuries treated.

But he never did.

Instead, he slowly let his shoulders relax with every step away from the arena. The noise settled as he turned corners, the sounds of excited fans packing up and the buzzing of the Zamboni became muffled.

He climbed the steps of the most hidden staircase in the rink, his hidden staircase, each heavy thump of his foot a reflection of the exhaustion creeping into his veins.

Finally, he could relax and hide away from the medical staff in peace.

Then he stopped.

Still staring down at his shoes, he noticed he’d almost stepped on a textbook. A textbook that looked very much like it belonged in a doctor’s office with the cover featuring a color coded skull and the word anatomy in big letters.

Last time Mattheo checked, there were no textbooks in his secret stairwell.

His eyes finally drifted upwards and landed on the anomaly.

You were curled up in the corner, back against the wall, headphones on with loud music leaking out, laptop in your lap and another open textbook by your feet. You typed mercilessly like the keyboard was on fire and each letter burned your fingertips.

He’d seen you around school before, big eyes always searching the world like you were seeing words in the sky that no one else could. You walked like air swept under your feet with every step and you talked with the lightness of a leaf falling off of a tree. Of course he knew you, he just didn’t know why you were in his corner.

You hadn’t even noticed his arrival, so absorbed in your work that the over 6 foot, broad shouldered hockey player managed to slip from your vision. Until he took a step closer and his shadow loomed over you like you were something he had to conquer to find his peace.

You peeled the headphones off your head, which he finally noticed were bedazzled with an absurd amount of glittering gems, and looked up at him with those big eyes.

Mattheo was sure he looked as intimidating as ever, maybe even more so due to the blood dripping down his temple and the pure irritation he felt.

But the craziest thing he had possibly ever seen happened. You blinked. Once. Twice. Pressed your lips together in a polite smile. Then put your sparkly headphones back over your ears.

Mattheo Riddle was speechless.

Usually, one look from him was enough to send people running, especially delicate little things like you.

Never had he been dismissed.

He furrowed his brows, but he was sure he looked more bewildered than angered, and crouched down to your level, waving a hand in front of your face.

You huffed out a small breath and pulled the headphones from your ears again.

“Hi,” you said, voice drifting into his ears like a gust of wind had personally delivered it to him, all airy and soft. Your lips pulled up into that polite smile again, and he didn’t know what effect that simple gesture was supposed to have on him, but he felt it in his chest.

Mattheo parted his lips to speak, then closed them. They were chapped, his throat was dry, and his knees were aching from being crouched before you. He licked his lips, then immediately winced as he felt the sting of his cut and the iron taste of blood hit his tongue.

He opened his mouth to try again.

“You’re in my spot,” his voice was gruff, but his tone wasn’t the intimidating drawl he was going for. He sounded almost… confused?

You glanced around the landing of the stairs where you had set up camp, then back at him. Your eyes were quizzical, calculating, like you were seeing things only you could see and reading his very thoughts. Then you spoke again, and his chest clenched with that unfamiliar feeling.

“You’re bleeding.”

Without his permission, Mattheo’s hand reached up to the side of his head, wiping the drop of blood that had been seeping across his skin. He stared at his bloody hand, then smeared it on his dark jeans, internally cringing at the action.

He scowled deeper. When had he ever cringed at his own actions? What were you doing to him?

“I know,” his voice wavered, the words leaving his lips in an uncomfortable murmur. Then he swallowed and looked back at you. “You’re in my spot.”

“I really think you should get that treated,” you squinted up at the cut above his brow, then your eyes trailed to his split lip. “It’ll get infected soon, especially that one if you keep licking your lips.”

You pointed briefly to his mouth, then settled your hands back on your keyboard, still watching him.

Mattheo shook his head, “I don’t care. You—”

“You should,” you continued, cutting off what was meant to be a violent consequence if you didn’t evacuate his spot immediately. “Split lips can be particularly painful, especially because we use our mouths pretty often. And that eyebrow cut will just keep bleeding, since our faces are highly vascular.”

He aggressively wiped away the blood dripping down his face again, scowling fully at you this time.

“What are you, my personal medical nightmare? Can you leave?” he spat, standing from his crouch to glare down at you, crossing his arms.

You frowned, and immediately he felt his glare falter. That didn’t look right.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you said simply, toying with a ring on your finger.

“You can wait somewhere else,” Mattheo grumbled, running a hand through his sweaty mess of curls. “Students aren’t supposed to be back here during games anyway.”

“Your eyebrow is getting pretty bloody now.”

He clenched his jaw so hard he thought maybe some of his teeth would fall out and join those of his opponents.

He walked to the opposite end of the landing, which wasn’t very far, and slumped against the wall. He sighed as he dropped to the floor, letting his head fall back against the wall and his sore arms rest against his knees.

Maybe he could ignore you just like he ignored his teammates and the medics and the teachers who always nagged him. Maybe he could sink into the hard ground where no one would bother him or touch him or breathe too close to him again.

Maybe his thinking was too wishful.

“I could help you,” that voice, a sound like waves crashing into a sandy shore and birds singing on the first spring morning. It warmed his cold skin, made him involuntarily unclench his jaw, and his eyes blink open.

You were standing over him now, boots nearly touching the toes of his shoes, jackets sleeves dangling over ringed fingers, and smooth lips pulled up into a smile. This one didn’t look as polite and dismissive though, it looked more welcoming, like maybe you weren’t just annoyed with his presence after all.

He narrowed his eyes at you, head still tilted back to meet your determined gaze.

“I didn’t come here so you could play doctor,” he scowled, wiping away another drop of blood. “I came to get away from all that shit.“

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, humming, and your eyes did that thing where they evaluated his very existence. Then you nodded, turning away from him to pick up your backpack.

He watched you skeptically as you rummaged through its contents before pulling out a first aid kid, a water bottle, and some napkins.

You walked back over and occupied the floor right next to him.

His scowl deepened and he shifted away, but it didn’t seem to deter you as you folded your legs underneath you and cracked open the plastic water bottle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Mattheo’s question went unanswered, so he was forced to watch as you dribbled water onto the napkins. Every movement was calculated and careful, even the way your earrings dangled back and forth was methodical. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hands steady, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d noticed all this about you. Or when you’d scooted closer.

He blinked when the cold, wet napkin hit his temple, jaw tight, gaze locked on you, but he couldn’t find it in him to move away.

You carefully cleaned up the new and dried blood, then folded it and dabbed at his lip.

Your hands weren’t gloved, your words weren’t nagging, and your touch was gentle as a breeze.

“This kinda stuff makes you nervous?” you asked softly as you set the napkin aside and opened up your first aid kit.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, arms falling away from his knees to allow you to lean closer.

It was like his usually loud brain had been taken out and rewired to only play static.

Mattheo could only look at you. You and your delicate features, like they’d been watercolor painted onto a canvas. You and your tender voice, a sweet, simple melody in the chaotic orchestra that was his thoughts. You and your calculating eyes. You and your dangly earrings. You and your bedazzled headphones.

“I guess,” his voice wasn’t gruff or even annoyed. It was like the electric force field that guarded him had faltered. He wasn’t showing you the violent hockey player that kept bruises as trophies. He wasn’t showing you the arrogant playboy who went through girls like dirty socks.

He was just Mattheo. The Mattheo that no one had ever cared to know. The Mattheo that was being treated with the gentlest of touches and sweetest of words.

“I don’t like their gloves. Or their prodding,” he continued, eyes still searching your face, not even registering the alcohol pad that you’d pressed to his cut. “They ask me too many questions and use words I’ve never even heard of.”

You slowly lowered the bloody wipe and let your eyes meet his.

“What’s going on in that head of yours when you do that?” Mattheo muttered, fingers twitching in his lap.

“Do what?”

“That look. Like you can read my mind or something.”

You grinned. You grinned and either the dim lights in the stairwell suddenly brightened or that simple pull of your lips had casted an unearthly glow that had him squinting to see.

And you had dimples.

Mattheo felt a smile of his own making his cheeks ache.

“Well, I can’t read your mind, but I will say that those are all valid things to be uncomfortable with,” you laughed slightly, a honeyed tune that he wished he could save to his pregame playlist. “Though, gloves are standard.”

“I don’t like the squeaking,” his voice lowered to a teasing drawl and he leaned slightly closer.

“You’ll like an infected wound even less.”

“That’s debatable, doc,” he bit the inside of his cheek to stop his stupid grin from growing even more. Apparently, only soft-spoken thieves could bring that smile out of him. “How d’you know all this stuff, anyway?”

You glanced back at your textbooks lying on the floor and your closed laptops. “I’ll be pre-med next fall,” you shrugged, pulling out a weird looking bandaid from your first aid kit. You then stopped and looked up at him. “That make you scared of me?”

He laughed, head falling back against the wall. “Don’t think that’s possible, doc. You’re too gentle.”

You rolled your eyes, hovering your hand over his forehead, bandaid dangling from your fingers. Mattheo picked his head up, smirk softening, and carefully took hold of your wrist. “Aren’t you scared of me?”

You froze, focusing your gaze back on his. His words were different, vulnerable in a way. Like he wasn’t teasing anymore.

You shook your head, matching his fond smile.

“You’re too gentle.”

His hand fell from your wrist and he could only watch as you patched up his cut.

Mattheo Riddle, gentle? Never in his life would he think that could be a word used to describe him.

But maybe that was the Mattheo that no one knew. Maybe this was a version only you could know. One you were already becoming accustomed to.

“It’ll pinch for a bit, but it should heal up fine. Wasn’t too deep. Take this off in the morning, clean it again, and let it get some air,” you muttered, face close to his as you smoothened the bandage over his skin.

“Hey, doc?” he shifted towards you on the cold floor, voice low as if he was afraid anything louder would disrupt whatever fog had fallen over them.

You met his eyes, thumb still tracing above his eyebrow, feet still folded underneath you, knees pressed into his thigh.

“Why’d you steal my secret spot?”

Mattheo found his gaze glued to the way your throat moved as you swallowed and your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked. You were nervous for a change, and he could’ve patted himself on the back for being able to notice. Or punched himself in the face, maybe.

When you pulled away, he decided that being deprived of your tender touch hurt worse than being slammed against the boards by his opponents.

He could only watch in silence as you packed your stuff away, eyes anywhere but on him. The floor felt colder when you stood up.

“My ride wanted to watch the hockey game and I needed to study,” you said, voice shaky as you shoved textbooks in your backpack.

Mattheo stood, watching you scramble. His demeanor oddly calm for the deafening thoughts that had begun to buzz around his brain again.

“What’s wrong?” he sounded devastated, taking hold of your wrist again, stopping you from packing up. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” you blinked fast and he watched the apprehension flicker across your face. “Nothing, but since the game’s over, I should probably go find my ride.”

He barely tightened his grip on you and tugged, but it was enough for you to face him fully. He lowered himself slightly so he wasn’t looming over you, so maybe that anxiousness would seep away from your features and he could see his gentle doctor again.

He didn’t say anything more, he knew that if you didn’t want to tell him, you wouldn’t. But he hoped that the small sliver of himself he’d presented to you would be enough for him to know this one thing that bothered you in exchange.

You frowned and his heart clenched.

You sighed and his fingers twitched around your wrist.

“I like treating injuries, I don’t like seeing them happen,” the words came out like they were stuck to your tongue, and you shied away from his gaze as you continued. “Hockey is…well it’s very violent.”

Mattheo suddenly felt shame wash over him like a bucket of cold water being poured over his head, but he didn’t know exactly why. He saw your eyes flicker up to his cut, flashing with panic as you thought about how it could’ve happened. Your frown deepened, and he knew he couldn’t look at it any longer.

With his other hand, his knuckles brushed your chin as he gingerly turned your gaze back to his. His voice was soft, almost coaxing.

“M’sorry, doc,” he crooned, rubbing his thumb along your jaw, watching the muscles unclench and your frown even out. He smiled at that, pulling at the end of your lips with his thumb. “It didn’t even hurt. Besides, that alcohol pad of yours stung more.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as your shoulders relaxed again. “You didn’t even flinch when I cleaned your cut, I’m not convinced,” you countered, watching him with those calculating eyes he’d begin to grow quite fond of.

“Yeah? How do I convince you then?” Mattheo glanced down, loosening his hold on your wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. He listened to your breath hitch, those big eyes of yours getting even bigger as his other hand fully cupped your jaw. You were so sweet, like candy he knew he’d be addicted to once he had a taste.

And Merlin did he want a taste.

You smiled, almost playfully, and squeezed his hand.

“Maybe you should go back to being scared of doctors.”

“But I really like this one.”

“You just met this one.”

Mattheo’s smirk widened into a full, cheeky grin. He nodded, eyes gleaming like you’d presented him with a challenge he couldn’t turn down.

“Alright, we’ll go slow,” he decided, rubbing his thumb along your cheek one more time before reaching down to take your backpack from your other hand, shrugging it over his own shoulder.

You furrowed your eyebrows as he tugged on your hands that were still connected, following him down the staircase.

“We’ll do what?” you squeaked, nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“We’ll go slow,” he echoed, glancing back at you and slowing down his steps, smile softening. “Until I haven’t just met you. Until I know more than that you blink fast when you’re nervous and spin that cute ring on your finger when you’re thinking really hard.“

You blinked quickly, big eyes staring up at him, and he didn’t even know if you’d done it on purpose, but he laughed.

He brought your intertwined hands up to his lips, pressing them against your knuckles with a gentleness that resembled reverence. “I want to be able to recognize every expression that crosses your face, angel. I want to know every little quirk you have. Until then, we’ll go slow.”

[theosdoll]

eternally yours.

pairing: draco malfoy x reader, wc: 1.3k

summary: in which, you take care of draco when he gets drunk.

tags/warning: fluff, aged up characters, mentions of alcohol, domestic fluff, marriage, established relationship, indication of semi nudity, grammar.

a/n: my first draco fic! haven’t been online much, i’ve been feeling unwell recently... anyways this is definitely better in my head :’) enjoy xoxo bella

masterlist

“can i come wit’ you?” draco murmured with his face buried in the crook of your neck. his words came muffled against your skin and sent a tingle down your spine.

by the time the both of you stumbled through the front door, one of his shoes was already missing. he probably lost it somewhere between the cobblestone streets where he’d insisted on stopping to kiss you under a flickering streetlamp.

“yes, dray, you can come with me. we’re already here,” you said breathlessly, trying to shove the door shut with your hip whilst holding most of draco’s weight in your arms.

“mhmm, you’re warm” he made a pleased little sound against your skin and dropped his forehead heavily onto your shoulder. 

now, it didn’t help that draco malfoy got extra clingy around you whenever he was drunk. and to be completely honest, you were enjoying it more than anything. there was always something about being able to hold him close and taking care of him in a way he would never fully allow when he was fully in control.

you liked how he leaned into you without hesitation and trusting you enough to let his guard drop so that you could see the vulnerable side he kept hidden from everyone else.

he always found his way back to you. every. single. time.

his cold fingers somehow managed to find their way beneath the hem of your shirt to settle at your waist, holding on as though you might vanish if he let go. wrapped around you, the blend of his expensive cologne and firewhisky made everything felt pleasantly lightheaded.

draco made no effort to hold himself up and instead, started rambling incoherently about mattheo owing him money before losing track of his own sentence. he kept on leaning shamelessly against you as you guided him down the hallway with both hands still braced at his waist. 

“y’sleepin’ with me t’night?” he slurred as you guided him into your shared bedroom and eased him down onto the bed.

“i am, dray,” you said as you brushed the blond strands away from his forehead. his cheeks were still flushed pink, and his grey eyes had gone visibly heavy with sleep, blinking slower by the second. 

he let out a quiet hum at you, shoulders loosening into the mattress. his hand lifted sluggishly and searched blindly for you until his fingers found yours and curled them in his bigger one lazily. 

“good,” he mumbled. “hate wakin’ up without you,”

your chest tightened. even in the state of half asleep and drunk, draco could still say things that made your heart start beating rapidly.

“the things you would do,” you muttered, letting go of his fingers and finally tugging off his remaining shoe, setting them aside. “drinking yourself senseless over some ridiculous bet with mattheo,”

draco cracked one eye open, “still won,” he informed as the corner of his lips raised softly. 

you shook your head, trying not to smile as you reached to unbutton his linen white shirt. your fingers worked them open one by one while draco watched through half-lidded eyes, not wanting to miss the way the moonlight caught softly along the soft curve of your face.

the white shirt slid off his arms easily, leaving him shivering as the lingering cold clung to his bare pale skin. draco made no move to help and only tipped his head back further against the pillows and let you fuss over his belt and trousers before carefully taking them off.

“comfortable there?” you murmured dryly as you stood. 

“mmm,” draco hummed softly as he watched you make your way to the walk-in wardrobe. 

after a moment, you came back with a fresh set of comfortable clothes for him.

he gave you the faintest smile as he noticed you had changed into a baby pink pyjama shorts and his white t-shirt that looked way too large for you. still, draco always adored you whenever you wore his clothes—you made them look better, he said.

“c’mere,” you climbed onto the bed next to him and tugged him upright gently. he let you pull him closer until he was finally sitting properly. surprisingly enough, he complied without protest tonight. 

you guided him to lift both of his arms and pull the clean shirt down over his head.  for a moment, he disappeared beneath it, then re-emerged with pale hair even messier than before. you smoothed the shirt down his chest as he watched your hands the entire time until they settled on his lap.

“up,” you said low enough for him to hear and gave his thigh a light tap.

a crooked smile found its way onto draco’s face at your command, but he still did it anyway. draco wouldn’t admit it loud, but he found it extremely hot when you took charge like that. 

he lifted his hips just enough to make it easier for you to slide the new pants into place, and shivered faintly when your fingers brushed against the side of his shin.

“there, feel better now?” you said quietly once his pants were on properly and adjusted the waistband into place while his eyes stayed on you with a steady focus. 

“d’you know you’ve got the prettiest face ever?” he murmured, completely ignoring your question.

a soft laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “well, it’s a good thing you tell me that every day,”

“i do?” he asked, catching your wrist, before you could even answer and tugged you down to his side on the mattress. draco didn’t waste a second when he finally had you close. though, in truth, he hadn’t left your side just a few hours ago at the reunion party with your friends from hogwarts—not even once. 

he loved how easily your face always seemed to settle against his neck like a missing piece finding its place.

you reached to cradle his face in one hand while your other one laced with his. leaning in, you pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

“mm, you promised me that in your vows, baby,” you giggled, peppering more kisses along his jaw.

despite the alcohol, a moment of realization finally struck draco. his gaze dropped to your intertwined fingers; and that’s when he noticed the delicate diamond ring sitting proudly on your fourth finger. the very same one he had chosen with his dear mother a few years ago.

he observed the way the band encircled your finger quietly, reminding him the truth that he had chosen, again and again; that you were his wife. a promise he had made and never once let go of, and never would.

his hand stilled for a moment before his thumb began to move and fiddled with the ring, turning it ever so slightly. draco toyed with it gently. the band shifted slightly beneath his touch until his thumb caught on something carved into the inside of the ring.

Eternally Yours.

his breath hitched softly as he pulled you closer. before you could even settle, draco shifted with ease. he rolled you gently beneath him until your back was pressed against the surface of the warm sheets and hovered over you instead.

merlin, his stormy grey eyes looked even more beautiful from this sight.

draco looked at you for a moment before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. it was slow and deep. your fingers immediately found their place around his neck, brushing against the platinum curls at his nape.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed on yours and his lips brushed against your mouth.

“means i’ve been doing it right, yeah?” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “but darling, above all things, i want you to know this—even without any promise between us, i’d still look at you and let you know how beautiful you truly are. that’s simply the truth, baby,”

his hand reached up and brushed a couple strands of hair out of your face. what draco said was true. even when he was intoxicated with firewhisky, he always meant it. hell, he would’ve told the entire world how much he loved you and that you were the prettiest thing to be alive.

you smiled softly, before pulling him back in and kissed him again with more passion this time.

“thank Merlin, i married a man of his words.”

a/n: edited!

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[theosdoll]

paper monster.

pairing: dad!theodore nott / husband!theodore nott x fem!reader, wc: 0.9k

summary: in which, one evening at the nott family manor, theo spends time playing with his son.

tags/warning: domestic fluff, established relationship, attempts of italian, grammar, elio is a clever baby and bilingual.

a/n: again, i originally wrote this for a different fandom a few years back, but i feel like it matches theodore too ^^ aaaa btw i’m currently writing something new for theo at the moment and it’s taking me a bit longer than expected i can’t wait to post it <3

masterlist

“alright amore, what do you wanna play, hmm?” theo sat down on the couch, taking a look at his two year old son who was mirroring his action.

“i learned how to play rock-paper-scissors!” the little boy, elio, exclaimed excitedly. theo couldn’t hide his smile as he looked at elio’s shiny eyes that resembled a lot like his wife.

his favourite pair of eyes ever.

“oh yeah? did mama teach you that?” theo’s bigger hand ruffles elio’s soft dark curls as the little one nodded enthusiastically.

“papà, let’s play,” elio stood up on his little feet almost immediately. “i will pull out a.. rock! so-so.. you need to do scissors.. like this… with your hand,” the toddler tried his best to explain the game to his father as he gestured his smaller hands.

theo let out a chuckle at elio’s cuteness, wishing moments like this lasted forever.

“but that would be cheating! papà will lose then,”

elio gave theo a gleamed smile. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” and as promised, elio pulled out a rock but his smile faded as he looked at his father’s hand… how dare he pulled a paper!

“i won!” theo exclaimed playfully. he chuckled softly as he watched elio’s reaction.

“ah, no… perché hai scelto carta…?” elio pouted silently as he began to break into sobs. (why did you choose paper?)

“oh, piccolo, scusa, no no no no, c’mere,” theo rushingly pulled his crying son to his arms.

“theo, honey? everything’s okay?” your voice from the kitchen rings in theo’s ears.

“sì, darling! don’t worry i got him!” theo stroked elio’s smaller back softly. his touch gentle and reassuring. the soothing motion calmed elio almost instantly.

“let’s play again, va bene? i’m sorry, baby,”

elio wiped his tears off his eyes. “papà, y-you need to… do a s-scissors…” he said between hiccups, still trying to calm down from his cries.

and so the second round began. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!”

suppressing his laugh, theo only grinned and pulled a paper again, far too pleased with himself.

the same look of disappointment from earlier came across the baby’s face, his tiny features falling in the most dramatic way that theo could have sworn he’d seen on you countless time throughout your years of dating—usually whenever he teased you just to get a reaction.

he had an idea for what to do next; one that was either hilariously clever or absolutely terrible. knowing theo, it was almost certainly terrible.

elio, however, did not seem nearly as entertained as his father.

“i’m the paper monster! rrrahh—i’m gonna eat you!” theo exclaimed as he engulfed elio’s little fist with his hands. elio wasted no time before bursting into yet another loud cry that evening, his wails filling the room almost instantly.

hearing the loud noise from the kitchen, you hurried to the living room and quickly scooped elio into your arms, holding him close as you tried to soothe his tears.

“aww, va bene, tesoro, va bene… shh, shh, shh,” you cooed gently, rocking elio into your arms until his cries began to quiet.

with elio’s head buried against your shoulder, you lifted your eyes to theo and shot him a sharp glare, mouthing ‘what is happening?’

theo just shook his head and threw both hands into the air in defense. “i was just trying to play with him,” he said helplessly.

“you scared him!” you whispered back.

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. i just thought paper monster would be fun, you know…”

theo bent down closer to the two of you. carefully, he tapped elio’s small shoulder with one finger. when elio turned to him, theo flashed an easy smile. “hi, amore, puoi fare carta?” (can you make paper?)

theo reached out and stroked elio’s hand. “papà will pull out the rock this time,” 

elio smiled back at him instantly. as you watched them, the thought cross your mind again. elio seemed to look more and more like theo with every passing day. they even shared the same dimpled smile, you thought.

“okay, papà, promettimelo,” and theo nodded his head. (promise me)

“rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” 

this time, theo kept his word, throwing his fist into the air. elio’s smile only got bigger as he eagerly smacked his tiny open hand against theo’s fist.

“i’m the paper monster now!”

“arghhh! someone save help me!” theo gasped dramatically. he pulled his free fist to his chest like he’d been struck down, then flopped onto the couch, acting as though he’d just been attacked by a terrifying monster.

elio let out a loud laugh at his father’s dramatic antics. wriggling free from your arms, he hurried over to theo and began playfully fighting with him. you could only shake your head, with a smile plastered on your face as you watched the two boys together.

theo had always known exactly what to do to make his son laugh again. it was a skill he’d perfected during all those years spent together with you, where he would do whatever it took just to see your beautiful smile and hear that contagious laugh of yours. it was also moments like these that theo felt the strongest urge to be better than his own father had ever been. to raise his child with gentleness, to love without causing pain and becoming the kind of parent that he himself had once needed.

you returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, thinking about how lucky you were to have theo as your husband and the father of your son.

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[lasagna-nuggets]

stunningggg writiing

[padmespetal]

quidditch captain rivalry headcanons — theodore nott x ravenclaw!reader

theodore nott who… rolled his eyes so hard the day you were announced as ravenclaw captain, muttering to blaise that it was “a joke” but secretly felt his stomach drop because now his rival had a face he couldn’t stop looking at.

theodore nott who… thought he’d be dealing with someone cold, calculated, respectful… not a sharp-tongued ravenclaw who told him to “learn how to read” when he argued about the pitch schedule, and something in the venom of your words lodged under his skin like a thorn he never pulled out.

theodore nott who… started making it a personal sport to scoff at you in every class, muttering under his breath whenever you opened your mouth, only to have enzo grin and whisper: “don’t stare so hard, mate, she’ll think you fancy her.”

theodore nott who… hated how your face haunted him mid-match, sweat slick, flushed, hair tangled, and how it made his brain short-circuit into the dirtiest thoughts he’d ever had in his life.

theodore nott who… got so red-eared after mattheo caught him zoning out that the boy leaned over on his broom during a game and snickered, “bloody hell nott, keep it in your pants and beat her team first.”

theodore nott who… threw his entire body into plays just to get the upper hand on you, chasing quaffles with brutal precision, only to glance back and feel his chest twist when you smirked like you already knew you were winning.

theodore nott who… secretly hated how the whole school adored you, the way ravenclaws chanted your name after matches, lifting you on their shoulders like some goddess of the skies, while he stood scowling in green robes with clenched fists.

theodore nott who… got weirdly turned on watching you boss your teammates around, snapping orders with that low sharp tone, like every syllable was a whip crack.

theodore nott who… made it his brand to mutter vicious little comments when you passed in corridors, close enough that his breath tickled your ear: “careful captain, you’ll trip on that ego of yours.” and then pretended not to notice how your pulse stuttered when you brushed his shoulder too hard in return.

theodore nott who… swore he despised you, but every time you smirked at him after scoring, he felt something burn deep inside his ribs that wasn’t hate at all — it was obsession, and it terrified him.

theodore nott who… lit cigarettes under the bleachers after every ravenclaw victory, smoke curling around him like a storm cloud, pretending it was just about the loss and not about how badly he wanted to kiss the smirk off your face.

theodore nott who… sat in the slytherin common room, firewhiskey bottle in hand, neon green lamps buzzing, trying not to look like he was waiting for you to walk by the window outside — only for mattheo to chuckle, “mate, it’s pathetic now. she’s in your head.”

theodore nott who… dreamt about you with the same flushed face you wore on the pitch, only the context was different, darker, messier — and when he woke up he told himself it was just hate. always hate.

©padmespetal 2025 : I DO NOT APPROVE OF MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED OR COPIED ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION

tags:

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

the nott-so-fake relationship (t.n.)

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: After your boyfriend cheats with your best friend, you enlist Theodore Nott in a fake relationship to get revenge

A/N: I fear this was better in my head

credits to @cafekitsune for the divider!

There comes a moment in every girl’s life that cements itself into her mind. It takes up a corner of her brain and becomes the foundation for every action she takes thereafter. It rewires her chemistry, ensuring that, years later, it will resurface unbidden, vivid and relentless.

She remembers it as though it’s happening right then. Every detail is etched onto the canvas of her mind with the precision of a master painter. She recalls every word, every inflection, every syllable. She feels again the rush of emotions, as if the pit of her stomach were reliving the moment in real time.

That was how it felt when your eyes landed on your boyfriend making out with your best friend, the girl who had been by your side since first year, the one you trusted implicitly. You stepped into the Hog’s Head that night, and your vision tunneled the second you saw them in the booth, lips locked.

The clinking of glasses around the pub sparkled mockingly in the dim light, a cruel contrast to the way your heart sank, your body shutting down as ice ran through your veins.

First came confusion. Perhaps you’d seen wrong, perhaps your mind was playing tricks. But as the seconds passed, certainty settled in, burning the image into your brain.

What do I do?

In any instance where you had been betrayed like this, your first instinct would have been to go to your best friend—the girl who had stuck with you since your first year when you were placed as dormmates.

Stuck in your place, your brain was short-circuiting, trying to, but in the end unable to do anything else but stare at them.

For fuck’s sake—are they scuba divers? Are they ever going to come up for air?

It seemed like they heard you, finally parting, and it seemed that your boyfriend—or rather, ex-boyfriend, and if he’s so lucky, not late-boyfriend—spotted you first, his face going pale the second he saw you.

You scoffed.

They were doing this in a public place, and he had the gall to look surprised when you managed to spot them?

And then you felt it—the emotion that managed to crush through all of the others like a tidal wave, filling your body and clouding your thoughts. Rage. Fury.

You spun on your heel, barreling through the crowd toward the door.

“(Y/N)!” Your boyfriend called behind you, but you ignored him, sidestepping another patron as you charged and left him in your dust. It seemed like your anger had managed to blur the edges of your vision, and you collided with another student.

“Watch it—!”

Theodore Nott stood at six feet tall, towering over you more than your boyfriend ever had, jawline so sharp it could cut you—if not for that, his words certainly would. He glared down at you with stormy eyes that you couldn’t quite call blue but couldn’t call green.

You heard your boyfriend call your name once more as he approached you, and it seemed the desperation on your face was apparent to someone as apathetic as Theodore, who only raised a brow at you.

And in that instant, you made one of the most reckless decisions of your life.

Your hands curled around the lapels of his jacket before you could even command your body to do otherwise, yanking Theodore toward you and leaning up on your tiptoes to close the gap, pressing your lips to his.

A split second passed, and your head was spinning, body coming back to life.

Have I lost my mind? I’ve just been utterly humiliated by my boyfriend and my best friend. Now I’ve kissed one of the notorious snakes—without consent, no less—which makes me literal scum. He’s going to push me away any second, probably hex me, and make this humiliation ten times worse.

All those self-deprecating thoughts came to a silent standstill the second his arm looped around your waist, another hand cupping your cheek as you tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The moment stretched, every second dragging out as if the world itself had decided to pause and watch. His lips moved against yours with a deliberate, almost teasing patience that sent a shiver down your spine, making your knees threaten to buckle. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the subtle press of his chest against yours, grounding you even as your mind screamed in disbelief.

Your hands tightened on his jacket, nails digging in slightly as if anchoring yourself to reality. Your mind screamed in protest, reminding you of every reason this was reckless—this was Theodore Nott, the last person you should be doing this with, and yet… you couldn’t stop.

The kiss was urgent, hungry, but also careful, as though he could sense the storm raging inside you and wanted to meet it without drowning you completely.

Finally, reality slammed back into you. You broke the kiss with a gasp, eyes still closed, trying to catch your breath after being so violently knocked out of orbit by a kiss you could only describe as divine.

When your eyes met his again, you were rendered speechless.

Oh, you better admit yourself into St. Mungo's tonight, you imbecile.

“Oh my—uh… I—I shouldn’t have—I'm sorry—” You stammered, tearing your hands from his jacket and stepping back. Embarrassment burned hotter than your anger had moments ago.

You swallowed, shamefully looking down as you moved toward the exit once again, "I'm gonna go—"

Your voice trailed off, choked by a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the pub before anyone could process what had just happened. Before he could.

You pivoted toward the door, picturing yourself in the cool night air where your face might finally stop burning.

But before you could take another step, a firm hand caught your wrist. You froze, the warmth of his grip rooting you in place.

“If you leave first,” He said, his voice low and smooth, carrying that unmistakable edge of challenge, “you lose."

You didn't even know if your ex-boyfriend was still there, you had lost any awareness of your surroundings the second your lips met his.

Your eyes widened, and you stammered, “I… I’m not… I don’t—”

The corner of his lips twitched as though he was fighting a smile at your pathetic state, a teasing glint in those stormy eyes that made your knees threaten to give out again. “Why don’t you… join me and my friends?”

You swallowed, heart hammering, and glanced back at your ex. He was still standing there, awkward, flustered, clearly humiliated. It was… satisfying, in a small, dark way.

If you left now, before they did, it would look like you had something to be ashamed of. You didn’t deserve that.

They didn’t deserve to enjoy the rest of their night undisturbed. They deserved to squirm in their seats, to feel the weight of your stare drilling holes into them. They deserved their night ruined. Their lives ruined.

“…Fine,” you whispered, almost against your will. Your voice trembled with a mixture of exasperation and something dangerously close to thrill. “But only for a little while.”

Theo’s grin widened, that teasing glint in his eyes sharpening. “Oh… I don’t know,” he said, placing his hand on the curve of your waist, leading you to the table that had been taken by the other Slytherins, "We can be quite a fun bunch."

Theodore guided you through the Hog’s Head, arm casually looped through yours, like you’d belonged there all along. You couldn’t help but notice the way the pub-goers glanced at you, whispers flickering through the crowd. Your stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves, shame, and something you didn’t dare name.

When you reached the table, his friend's eyes immediately lit up. They were lounging casually, drinks in hand, and the smirk on Blaise’s face made it clear that they had clearly witnessed your make out session.

"Well, well, well, looks like someone’s been busy." Mattheo drawled, his wicked grin hidden half behind his glass as Theodore pulled out a chair for you and then slid his own closer.

It took everything in you to not look so startled when he wrapped his hand around your shoulder, trying to hide your incredulousness at how seamless this act managed to come to Theo.

You lowered your gaze from Mattheo's who was set on staring at you with an ear-to-ear grin like an imp, only to catch Theo’s eye—he seemed to read your thoughts instantly and, without missing a beat, chucked a fry at his best mate, "Stop ogling my girl, you prat."

“Ohhh,” Mattheo drawled, leaning back in his chair, "She's your girl now? That's the first I've heard of this."

Draco snorted, smirking at Theo, “Yeah, Theo, since when? You never mentioned a girlfriend before.”

Before you could even sputter, Theo’s calm, controlled voice cut through the teasing. “Yeah,” He said effortlessly, as if stating the weather, “We’re dating.”

You froze. What?! You were still reeling from the kiss, and now he was lying with such ease that it made your brain stutter. You were so caught off-guard, so out of your comfort zone that you couldn't even say anything.

He didn’t even flinch, "And we're not first-year girls that I should tell you everything."

Enzo let out a low whistle. “Wow… Theo, good for you, man."

You felt like your chest had been sucker-punched. How could he lie so effortlessly? So convincingly? You were still fumbling over your own thoughts, heart racing from the kiss, and he was… untouchable.

Theodore leaned slightly closer, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. Just play along. Trust me.”

Trust him? You barely knew him. And the two people you’d trusted most in the world had just ripped you to shreds.

This was a bad idea.

But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Because Theodore was right—if you left, your ex would see it, and you’d lose.

So you stayed. You plastered a grin on your face and let Theodore enjoy himself with his friends. You tried your best not to glance at the betrayers—refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing they occupied even a single neuron in your brain.

When tears threatened to prick your eyes, you bit the inside of your cheek hard and reached for Theo’s drink, taking a slow sip to ease the tightness in your throat.

Thankfully, it seemed they weren’t as shameless as you’d feared. They looked too uncomfortable to enjoy themselves, shifting in their seats, eyes flicking toward you before darting away. The sight of them leaving some time later brought you a sliver of satisfaction. However, that was made very bitter at the realization that they were leaving together.

You held out for another twenty minutes before finally turning to Theodore with a tired smile. “Walk me back?”

He didn’t hesitate. He stood immediately, earning a chorus of jeers from his friends about being a “simp” who couldn’t let his girl walk alone. Theodore just flipped them off before guiding you out with a warm hand at the small of your back.

The walk was quiet. Snowflakes gathered in your hair and clung to your coat, the world muted by the thick white dusting over Hogsmeade. Then, halfway down the path, you stopped abruptly.

Theodore turned to you, “What’s wrong?”

You stared down at the snow-covered road, tears burning at the edges of your vision, “She’s back at my dorm.”

You pressed the heel of your gloved palms into your eyes, your chest trembling with the sobs you’d been holding in all night, “And if she’s not… then I’ll be left wondering if she's with him for the rest of the night.”

Theodore sighed, steering you toward a small alcove behind the pub. It overlooked the rest of Hogsmeade, quiet and dim under the glow of lanterns. You sank down against the fence, not caring about the wet snow soaking through your clothes, hiding your face in your knees as the dam finally broke.

The image of them at the pub replayed relentlessly behind your closed eyelids, no matter how much you willed it away.

They’d done it so unabashedly, so arrogantly—her practically in his lap. Comfortable enough to humiliate you like that in public meant it couldn’t have been the first time.

Your mind reeled back to every time they’d both been absent, every “we just ran into each other in the hallway” excuse, every occasion they’d been “too busy” to join you in Hogsmeade.

They’d done this where other students could see. Had no one thought to tell you? Did your other friends just… choose to stay silent? Were they ever really your friends at all?

Theodore didn’t say a word. He just stood beside you in silence—until the soft clink of his lighter broke through your thoughts. You looked up, face blotchy and eyes raw, just in time to see him take a long drag from a cigarette, the smoke stark against the winter air.

“Can I have one?” You asked.

"No," He glanced down at you, “Take it from me, sweetheart—once you start, it’s very hard to stop.”

You exhaled sharply, lowering your forehead back to your knees. You tried to breathe deep, to steady yourself, to make sense of any of it, “What good even are you?”

There was another beat of silence.

“I’m sorry,” He said, and you looked up again, “I sprang that whole thing on you. If you don’t want to, I’ll take it back. Make it seem like I was the one mistaken. You don’t need to worry.”

“Why did you do it?” You asked quietly, “You could’ve easily pushed me away. I mean, I was the one at fault there.”

“Because,” He said, taking another slow drag, “you looked desperate.”

You huffed a humorless laugh, “I’m swooning.”

Theo’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Besides,” He added, tilting his head so the dim light from the pub hit the sharp cut of his jaw, “I wasn’t about to let them see you run off like you’d done something wrong.”

You blinked at him, caught between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to thank him, “So you just… decided to announce to half the school that we’re dating?”

“It’s better this way,” He said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Rumors spread fast. By Monday, everyone will think you’ve moved on—and not just moved on, but traded up.” His gaze flicked to you, calm but deliberate, “Let them choke on it.”

Your throat tightened, but this time it wasn’t from wanting to cry.

"And what do you get out of this arrangement?"

Theodore glanced at you through the thin curl of smoke leaving his lips. His expression didn’t flicker, but there was a spark of something behind his eyes—mischief, maybe, or calculation.

“Let’s just say…” He exhaled slowly, the smoke catching in the cold air like ghostly ribbons, “…I have my reasons.”

You swallowed and then sighed, watching as your breath became visible in the cold air, tears now dry on your cheeks, “I want them to pay for it.”

Theodore smirked, the corner of his mouth curling like he’d just been waiting to hear those words, "And so they shall."

You pushed open the door to your dorm, ready to collapse onto your bed and pretend the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. After talking with Theodore for a while, you’d waited until well past curfew to sneak back into Hogwarts, hoping your ex-boyfriend and ex–best friend had either gone to sleep separately or she was holed up in his dorm.

Honestly, at this point, you didn’t care where they were or what they were doing. They’d been dead to you long before you saw them at the pub tonight.

All you wanted was a bed. Sleep. Silence.

Theodore had still given you the option to change your mind about him — told you he’d take the blame if you wanted to pretend you didn’t know each other. But you were too wrung out from crying, too hollow to think. Your body was ready to collapse the second your face hit the pillow.

Except the moment you stepped inside, sleep vanished.

She was there.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, biting her thumbnail — that nervous habit of hers you hated that you knew.

Your mind started firing questions faster than you could breathe. Was she nervous? Guilty? Regretful? Did she feel anything at all?

Her head snapped up.

“Hey,” She said softly, eyes wide with something dangerously close to guilt, “Can we talk?”

You froze. Part of you wanted to say yes. She’d been your best friend, the person you’d cared about more than anything. You didn’t want to lose her.

Your heart almost opened the door. Your mind slammed it shut.

“No.”

She blinked, flinching like you’d slapped her, “Please, just—”

“I said no.” You moved past her toward your bed, shrugging off your coat, “Whatever you think you need to say, save it. I don’t care.”

“(Y/N), please! I didn’t mean for it to happen—”

You laughed—sharp, humorless, “You didn’t mean to kiss my boyfriend? How exactly does that work? You trip and fall face-first onto his mouth?”

Her jaw twitched. Then she scoffed, “Fine. If you’re gonna act like you’re so perfect, maybe remember you’re not exactly a saint either.”

Your head snapped up, “Excuse me?”

She crossed her arms, chin tilting higher, “We all saw your little show with Nott earlier. Don’t think you can sit there acting holier-than-thou when you cheated too.”

Heat surged under your skin.

“What I was doing with Nott is none of your business. But don’t you dare pretend that makes you right. You are the lowest, ugliest, skankiest slag I’ve ever met in my life.”

“That’s rich,” She spat, “Coming from the slag who spread her legs for the first guy she saw. Nott probably thought you were easy, didn’t he?”

You took a step forward. Then another. She backed up.

“Theodore has nothing to do with this, and neither does anyone else. The person I’m pissed at is you.” Your voice shook now, not from fear, but fury, “You were supposed to be my best friend! How could you betray me like this? Humiliate me in front of everybody? Go behind my back? I would never have done this to you. I wouldn’t have even thought about it!”

With each sentence, you jabbed a finger into her chest, until you finally shoved her, the force surprising even you.

She didn’t back down.

“You deserved it, didn’t you? Acting all high and mighty — then turning around and doing the same thing.”

Something in your chest cracked. You looked at her, really looked, and realized you didn’t recognize her anymore.

You laughed, breathless and disbelieving, “The only difference between us is I didn’t throw away seven years of friendship for some asshole who can only think with his dick. You think he won’t turn around and do the same thing to you that he did to me? You’re deluded.”

One more shove.

Then you straightened, voice quiet but lethal.

“If you ever approach me again, I’ll kill you. Until then?” You took a step back, smirking like she was something you’d scrape off your shoe, “Have fun with my sloppy seconds, slut.”

The next morning, the corridors were alive with the usual rush of students heading to the Great Hall, but your thoughts were still tangled in last night’s chaos. You tightened your coat around you, trying to focus on anything but the memory of their faces, when a familiar voice cut through the din.

“(Y/N)!” Your ex-boyfriend called, catching up just as you reached the entrance to the Great Hall. His face was flushed, a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and confusion, “What the hell was that yesterday?”

You froze for a heartbeat, then let a sardonic smile creep across your face, “Oh, that? I thought your tongue down my best friend’s throat was a pretty clear indication that we were both seeing other people.”

His face burned red, guilt and humiliation flickering across his features. You barely felt any satisfaction—what you felt yesterday had been raw, scorching, and unshakable. This was just a pale echo.

“Look, I—” He began, his voice tight, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Didn’t mean to cheat on me with my best friend? Or didn’t mean for me to find out?” You let each word land like a slap.

His jaw clenched, his gaze hard, “You’re one to talk, acting like you didn’t leave with Theodore Nott of all people yesterday.”

You tilted your head, cool and deliberate, “I did. So? That doesn’t give you the moral high ground to lecture me. If you think you’re the victim here… think again.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous murmur, “Wait—are you serious? Are you actually—”

And then you saw him. Theodore Nott, leaning against the wall with that impossibly calm expression, arms crossed, watching like the world had paused for his amusement.

Your chest tightened, but you squared your shoulders. “Yes,” You said clearly, deliberately loud enough for both of them to hear, “I am dating Theodore Nott.”

The color drained from his face, the clever retorts dying on his tongue. You didn’t give him a chance to recover.

Theo’s smirk sharpened, eyes flicking between you and him, silently daring him to challenge your words, to give him a reason to rearrange his sorry mug this fine morning.

You started walking, leaving your ex behind, and Theodore fell naturally into step beside you. His presence was calm, confident, infuriatingly infuriating—and comforting at the same time.

“You promised, Nott,” You murmured, your voice low and dangerous, “We’re going to make them pay.”

Theo’s grin widened, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, teasing arc. “Oh, don’t worry, mia cara,” He said smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief and you felt your ears get hot, “We're gonna make them regret ever messing with you.”

Side by side, you stepped into the Great Hall. Whispers began immediately, flickering through the crowd like wildfire. And as the students’ eyes turned toward you, you realized—the game had officially begun.

The chatter of students filled the Charms classroom as you stepped inside, your nerves buzzing the way they always did when eyes might follow you. You hesitated in the doorway for a fraction too long, scanning the rows of desks. Usually, your spot was second row, left side—the place you always shared with your best friend. But now? The thought of sitting there made your stomach twist. Should you take it anyway, claim your ground, and glare if she had the audacity to join you?

Before you could decide, a warm hand brushed against the small of your back.

“Over here.” Theodore murmured, voice low but commanding. He didn’t give you room to argue, guiding you through the rows with a confidence that ignored every curious glance that followed. You ended up in the second-to-last row, his chosen territory.

You dropped your bag to the floor and slid into the seat he indicated, shooting him a quick, reluctant smile. Almost instantly, you became acutely aware of the heat of his knee brushing yours beneath the desk.

Theodore leaned back in his chair with practiced ease, stretching his arm just far enough to rest casually along the back of yours. “That’s better,” He said, deliberately louder now, his voice carrying through the classroom. His smirk deepened, “Need my girl next to me.”

The effect was immediate. The two Hufflepuff girls in front of you whipped their heads around under the pretense of adjusting their books. They tried to be subtle, glancing sideways from the corners of their eyes, but the way their shoulders pressed together and their whispers turned sharp made it obvious who they were talking about.

Theo noticed too. His smirk widened, one eyebrow arching as if to say exactly as planned.

You resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs, ducking your head instead as heat crept up your neck. Subtle was not in Theodore Nott’s vocabulary, apparently.

Your heart jumped when the door opened again and she walked in—your ex–best friend, sliding into the classroom like nothing had happened. She looked tired, as she always did on mornings like this; Charms was the earliest class on your schedule, and she never managed breakfast before dragging herself out of bed. No, instead she always smuggled in a handful of Honeydukes’ cockroach clusters, nibbling on them through class.

And sure enough, there they were, sitting in a paper bag on her desk.

Your lips curled into a knowing smirk.

How could she be so careless? She knew you better than anyone—had known every one of your tricks, your habits, your moods. She should have known you wouldn’t leave her unpunished.

You waited until Professor Flitwick had begun explaining wand movement on the board, until the room was full of the faint swish of quills and the scratching of parchment. Then, when her hand dipped into the bag, you flicked your wand under the table. A silent transfiguration. Smooth, clean, precise.

She popped the cluster into her mouth. Chewed once.

And then froze.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, and then she gagged, clapping a hand over her lips. You bit down on your own smile as, with a sharp cough, she spat onto her desk—not a melted chocolate, but a fat, wriggling cockroach that skittered across the wood.

The room erupted.

Screams, laughter, the scrape of chairs as people leapt away. Someone shouted, “Bloody hell, they’re moving!” as two more clusters in the bag twitched and burst into chittering, crawling life. Your ex-best friend shoved her desk back in panic, her face pale as the cockroaches spilled out in a wave across the floor.

You didn’t react like the rest of them, watching as chaos struck and she turned green in the face, barely able to breathe. You lifted your feet and bag from the ground, careful to avoid all the cockroaches that seemed to multiply from her bag—the replenishing charm you cast on the bag doing wonders.

Theodore didn’t even glance at the teacher; instead, his attention was entirely on you, on the way your chest rose and fell, eyes still sharp, just barely contained.

With a single fluid motion, he pulled your chair a little closer, resting your legs in his lap. You froze, breath hitching, heat crawling up your spine—but there was no time for that. The room still hummed with whispers and laughter, and you could feel every pair of eyes glancing back at the scene.

“Elegant work, sweetheart.” He murmured low, the words meant only for you. His fingers brushed lightly along your ankle, light enough to be intimate, heavy enough to claim attention.

You suddenly understood why in the olden days showing ankle was considered scandalous, judging by the set of shivers Theodore's thumb against your ankle had sent up your spine.

“Detention! For eating in class and causing this disruption! Minus ten points!” Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice rang across the room.

You fought the grin tugging at your lips, eyes sliding back to your former best friend, who sat frozen, cheeks burning with humiliation.

Oh, poor girl.

That pitiful, shocked face only made you hate her more.

The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of quills filling the otherwise hushed room. You were bent over a stack of textbooks, notes scattered across the polished wooden table, eyes straining to keep focus as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows.

You were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice the shadow falling across your page. A soft, familiar warmth pressed against the back of your chair, and a low chuckle reached your ears.

“Can’t study forever, you know.” A deep voice murmured.

Before you could turn around, a pair of lips pressed gently against the top of your head. A small, contented sigh followed as Theodore rested his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He said softly, his words meant only for you, though the air between you carried them enough for nearby students to murmur.

You froze for a heartbeat, pencil hovering mid-note, then tilted your head slightly, allowing him the small indulgence. His hand slid to rest on yours, fingers brushing against your notes, grounding you in the moment.

A few whispers floated through the library, subtle but unmistakable: “Is that…?” “Theodore Nott and—” “Wow.”

The heat rose in your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the thrill of being seen with him, the quiet intimacy, the silent power you both held over anyone watching.

Especially the power it held over you.

You didn't know how he was able to touch you so intimately, pretend like you had a long history, hold you close and fake that look in his eye that made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

It was baffling.

Theodore rested his head for a moment longer before leaning back just enough to peer at your notes, “Though… you’re really focused, aren’t you? I’d almost feel guilty interrupting.”

You gave a small smile, eyes still on your parchment, “You could say that, yeah.”

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently with his own, “Then I’ll just keep you company… silently.”

And with that, he settled next to you, close enough that his warmth was constant, silent enough that you could still work—but every so often, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple or brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Then you sensed movement behind you. Glancing up, you caught sight of your ex and your former best friend sneaking into the room, eyes immediately locking on you and Theodore.

They didn’t just glance—they stiffened, shoulders squared, and suddenly it was like a performance. She leaned close to him, laughing a little too loudly, brushing against him in a way that screamed look at us, we’re happy, look at what you’re missing. Your ex mirrored her, puffing out his chest and whispering something that made her giggle.

It was painfully obvious—they wanted you to see them, to feel jealous, to react.

You didn’t.

Instead, you reached up, grabbed Theodore by the collar, and pulled him down into a deliberate, teasing kiss, letting them watch the undeniable spark between you. He responded immediately, moving his hand to your waist, deepening the kiss and cupping your cheek.

But of course, they weren’t going to give up that easily. Determined to “out-do” you, they moved to the far side of the library, your ex hugging her from behind and peppering kisses to her neck as she giggled. They ducked into the alcove at the back that was notorious for students fooling around.

Theodore raised a brow, lips curling into that maddeningly flirtatious smirk, leaning to press his lips to your ear, “What do you say, love? Feel like beating them at their own game? I’m sure we’d have a better time anyway.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

With a subtle glance toward the librarian’s desk, you caught Madam Pince’s attention. Quietly, you waved her over, corners of your mouth tugging into a grin.

Theodore’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh? You’re evil, bellissima.”

“Oh, you love it.” You murmured, still holding his hand. You pointed to the bookshelf where they were hiding, leaning back with a sly grin.

What happened next was beautiful chaos.

A shriek echoed through the library—sharp, furious, unmistakably theirs. Madam Pince’s voice rang out, shrill and indignant: “What on earth are you two doing in here?!”

You and Theodore exchanged a glance and stifled laughter as you heard her yelling, her wand flashing to confiscate their belongings, and chasing them down the aisles, half-dressed and completely humiliated.

The whispers and stares of the other students only added to the spectacle. You suppressed another laugh as you watched points being deducted from their house records, their humiliation complete.

For now.

The stands were packed, the cold wind whipping your hair around your face as you and Theo leaned against the railing, watching the match unfold below. You watched as your ex’s team began collecting points, you and Mattheo booing their every move at the top of your lungs.

“YOU CALL THAT FLYING?!” Mattheo yelled, and you cupped your hands around your mouth, “MY GRANDMA CAN FLY BETTER THAN THAT!”

You coughed—cold air and screaming taking their toll—before a scarf was gently draped around your neck. You turned in surprise to see Theodore, not even looking at you, more intent on wrapping it carefully so it covered your ears and nose without smothering your mouth. When it proved impossible, he conceded and settled for placing a warming charm on you.

You smiled bashfully, hiding your pink cheeks in the scarf, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bella.”

“Disgusting behavior in public.” Mattheo muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from you.

Everything seemed normal—until the golden blur began acting strangely.

Even for a snitch, its movements were erratic. But this was worse than usual. It seemed to purposefully avoid the opposing team, darting exclusively toward your ex’s side. The match ground to a halt as the players floated to a stop, confusion spreading across the pitch. Madam Hooch called everyone together, frowning as she tried to assess the situation.

When the groundskeepers and referees inspected the field, the truth became clear: the snitch in play wasn’t real. Someone had swapped it.

Confusion rippled through the stands as whispers grew louder.

“Where’s the real Snitch?” The head referee demanded, scanning the players.

A quick locating spell revealed it immediately—tucked neatly in your ex’s bag, as if he had accidentally carried it with him. The real snitch sat there, innocently gleaming in the sunlight, waiting to be discovered.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Every eye in the stadium turned to him.

Your ex’s face drained of color, hands fumbling over the bag in shock. “I—I didn’t—!” He stammered.

But the damage was already done. The spectators murmured furiously, teammates muttering accusations, and whispers of “he cheated” began circulating instantly.

Theo leaned back against the railing, smirk spreading across his face, and whispered in your ear, “Are you enjoying the show, my love?”

You bit your lip and nodded, trying not to laugh aloud, and reached for his hand under the railing, giving it a subtle squeeze. No words were needed—the humiliation was working exactly as planned.

“Due to tampering with the snitch, it’s an automatic loss for Ravenclaw—Hufflepuff wins!” Madam Hooch announced, confirming the disaster.

“Another impeccable plan. I’m impressed,” Theo murmured in your ear, voice teasing, “You make it look easy.”

The crisp Hogsmeade air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped off the train, Theodore’s hand sliding easily into yours. The village was bustling with students, their laughter echoing over the cobblestone streets, but all you could feel was the warmth of his grip and the soft pull of his presence beside you.

Theodore was actually the one to suggest that you guys spend the day together. At first, you were going to opt out, feeling bad that the last couple weeks had been revolving around you and wanting him to get some time with his friends but he insisted, saying that you couldn't spend your Hogsmeade apart or people would talk.

You couldn't argue with that.

But even then you found yourself looking forward to it.

Despite this being only a temporary arrangement with no feelings behind it, Theodore was actually great company. He was thoughtful and considerate, he liked hearing you talk and a quality people didn't really appreciate a lot was that he was hilarious.

You couldn't go five minutes without him prompting a belly laugh from you.

You paused in front of a small shop, your eyes catching a delicate necklace in the display window. A thin chain with a tiny, intricate charm glinting in the sunlight—it was beautiful. Your breath caught.

“Oh… that’s gorgeous.” You murmured, pressing your palm lightly against the glass.

Theodore leaned over, following your gaze. His eyes softened when he saw the necklace, “You like it?”

“I do… but…” Your voice trailed off as you peeked at the price tag. Your eyes widened, “but I do not love the price tag.”

The bell above the shop door jingled as you both entered. You wandered near the counter, trying to convince yourself it was just a dream. Theodore approached the shopkeeper, exchanged a few words, and before you could even process what was happening, the necklace was being handed to you in a small, neatly wrapped box.

You stared at it, then at him, “No… no, you can’t. This is way too expensive. I can’t—”

“It’s only ten Galleons.” He said, clearly perplexed by your reaction.

“Only… ten Galleons?” You repeated, your voice rising slightly in surprise, “That’s… that’s like… my entire pocket money for the next two months!”

Theodore smirked, as if your shock were the most amusing thing he’d seen all day, “Yes, and? You’re my girl. You like it, you get it. What’s the problem?”

The problem was you weren't really his girl.

So, why was he going out of his way to behave like you were? This was a question that had stayed in your head since that first night in Hogsmeade. What was he getting out of this? Why would he be so readily enthusiastic in your plan when it was clear you were the only one truly benefitting from this?

When you met his eyes again, stormy blue that looked green in some lights, the questioned died on your tongue.

Because whatever the reason, you weren't sure you wanted him to stop.

You stared at him, half in disbelief, half in awe, “You—really? You’re just… giving it to me?”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you let him fasten the necklace around your neck. The charm glinted against your chest, and the warmth of the gesture left you grinning.

When you turned to meet his eyes again, you smiled bashfully up at him before leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

Theo froze in surprise the second your lips touched his cold skin, and the sight of his startled expression made something warm bloom in your stomach.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done more than that—in fact, in your persistence to prove to your exes that you were well past moved on, you’d taken to making out with Theo in nearly every public space Hogwarts had to offer. And if it wasn’t that, it was the way he always had an arm around you, casual and possessive, no matter where you went.

So the fact that something as small as a cheek kiss could knock him off guard made you smile. Made you feel like all the intimacy you shared wasn’t just a front. Wasn’t all fake.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

You settled cross-legged on the soft carpet of the Slytherin common room, leaning back against Theodore’s legs as he sat comfortably on the couch. His hands were busy in your hair, while his scarf lay draped across your lap. Carefully, you threaded the fringe at the end of the scarf, showing him how to braid it so he could mimic the motion on your hair.

“So then you take this left strand and bring it over—it becomes the new center strand—and then you bring the new right strand and bring it over.” You explained, feeling the occasional tug on your hair. You immediately noticed the braid slipping.

“It keeps slipping… your hair is too greasy.” He muttered, brow furrowed.

You scoffed, feigning offense, “I think you mean… smooth and silky.”

“This isn’t working.” He grumbled, letting go of your hair and starting over, separating it into three neat parts.

“Baby, this is the easiest braid ever. You’re going to faint when I teach you about a Dutch braid.” You teased, tugging gently on a strand to demonstrate.

Before he could respond, the door creaked open and Mattheo sauntered in, smirk plastered across his face. “Ohhh, what do we have here?” He drawled, “(Y/N) (L/N), Hogwarts’ first houseless student considering we never see her in her own common room, and Theodore Nott, her loyal… dog.”

He then grimaced at the sight of the two of you, “Can y’all not do this in a public space? Some of us think the sight of happy couples is enough to induce projectile vomiting.”

Theo didn’t flinch, though the corner of his mouth tugged into a small smirk. You felt a small thrill as his thumb grazed the space under your ear, leading to your neck, grounding you in the moment.

You raised a brow, voice dripping with mock menace, “You really wanna piss me off when I’m at prime height to punch you in the balls?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the couch, still grinning, “You’re coming to Theo’s birthday next Friday, right? Considering you practically live here.”

You hesitated, unsure, “I… I don’t know. I mean—”

Theo leaned over you, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “You'll be there right?” He murmured, voice low and coaxing, the simple gesture making your chest tighten, "Please?"

You bit back a smile, looking up at him, and realized there was no way you could say no—not when he asked like that.

You stepped into the Slytherin common room, barely able to hear your own thoughts over the bass that rattled the walls. It thudded deep in your chest, vibrating through your bones as you descended the staircase to the dungeons.

The room was packed, bodies moving together in a blur beneath the strobing lights, faces indistinguishable in the chaos. But your eyes found Theo instantly. He was surrounded by his friends, laughing at something Mattheo said, until his gaze landed on you.

His entire expression shifted—lit up like you were the only thing in the room. Without a second thought, he left them behind and crossed the room to meet you at the base of the stairs.

His eyes swept over your little black dress, the necklace he gifted you resting prettily on your collarbones, and his hands found their way to your waist—low, possessive, warm against the thin fabric, "Che bella, carissima."

"Happy birthday, Theo." You murmured, your palms resting lightly against his chest.

"Grazie, dolcezza." He replied, voice low and smooth as he leaned in. His mouth met yours without hesitation, your fingers sliding into his hair. Lip gloss smudged against his skin, and the artificial taste of lollipop lippie flooded both your mouths.

If you hadn’t been so caught up in the kiss, maybe you would’ve questioned it. Why you were kissing Theo when neither your boyfriend nor your best friend was anywhere in sight. Why you were feeding into the rumor mill in the shadowy corner of the common room instead of center stage where everyone could see.

Maybe you would’ve wondered why you shaved your legs, wore the dress that made your breasts look perfect, took extra time curling your hair, and reached for the expensive perfume you saved for special occasions.

But with Theo’s fingers brushing bare skin along your spine—thanks to the low back of your dress—those thoughts didn’t stand a chance.

You pulled away, laughing softly at the sight of glittery gloss smeared across his lips. You tried to wipe it away with your thumbs, but that proved nearly impossible when he kept catching your fingers in quick kisses.

"I have a present for you." You whispered, revealing the small gift bag you’d kept tucked behind your back. Theo pressed a kiss to your temple before taking it, digging through the tissue paper until he pulled out a steel flask—cool, heavy, and etched with intricate designs like something stolen from an ancient temple.

When he felt the liquid slosh inside, he unscrewed the cap and took a sip, brows lifting in surprise when the familiar taste hit his tongue.

"I cast a replenishing spell on it," You explained, "When it runs out, it’ll refill on its own."

His lips curved in a slow smile, still holding your gaze.

"I was just thinking about that day you said you’d miss my cocoa," You added, "So…I thought you’d appreciate it."

Theo chuckled quietly, looking down at the flask with an expression you couldn’t quite read—something deeper than amusement.

"Do you…not like it?" You asked after a beat.

He shook his head immediately, "I adore it, pretty girl."

Before you could respond, Mattheo’s voice cut through the music. "If you guys are done ASSAULTING OUR EYEBALLS—" You both rolled your eyes in perfect unison, "—IT’S TIME FOR CAKE!"

You followed the crowd toward the long table where the cake waited, candles flickering under the dim lights. You expected to melt into the group somewhere between Enzo and Blaise, but before you could even drift in that direction, Theo’s hand shot out, curling firmly around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going, Dolcezza?” He murmured, tugging you to stand at his side—his spot—right in front of the cake.

“Theo,” You hissed under your breath, “it’s your birthday, I should be—”

“You're exactly where you should be.” He cut you off smoothly, eyes glinting in the candlelight. His hand didn't lift from your waist, keeping you pinned to his side, the faint smell of smoke and cocoa clinging to him like a second skin.

You didn’t have time to argue before Blaise slid over, holding out a small slip of parchment and a quill, “Here you go, mate."

Your brows furrowed, “What’s this?”

Theo took the quill without hesitation, his head bending low as he scribbled something on the paper in quick, sure strokes.

“It’s an old Nott thing,” Mattheo explained, “Birthday boy writes down a wish, folds it, and keeps it with him until it comes true. You’re not supposed to tell anyone what it is.”

Theo didn’t even glance up, just folded the parchment neatly, tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket with deliberate care.

“And you keep it on you?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Always,” Theo said simply. His gaze met yours, sharp enough to make your stomach twist, “A wish doesn’t work if you let it out too soon.”

You should’ve looked away, but there was something about the weight of his stare—like whatever he’d written down was more dangerous than anyone else in the room realized.

“Now,” Mattheo groaned, breaking the tension, “can we please sing so I can eat some damn cake?"

You laughed, but your mind was already racing, replaying the way Theo’s lips had curved just slightly when he’d sealed the parchment away.

And for the first time, you wondered if that wish had anything to do with you.

The common room was a haze of dancing bodies, flashing lights, and the faint tang of cider and punch. You’d just come back from the corridor with Theo, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your waist, when Mattheo leaned over with a mischievous grin.

“You need to try this,” He said, holding out a tall glass filled with a neon-colored drink. At the bottom, a small, bright candy rested like a hidden treasure, “It’s our latest cocktail—sweet and sour. The sweetness of the drink with the sour candy at the bottom is fucking good.”

You raised an eyebrow, examining the glass that looked radioactive, "This looks cursed."

"It's good, baby," Theo said smoothly, eyes sparkling as he handed you the glass, “You should give it a try.”

With a shrug and a laugh, you took a sip. At first, it was sweet, almost pleasant. Then your tongue hit the candy, and your eyes widened in shock. Your face scrunched up immediately.

“Oh—oh my god,” You choked out, spitting it back a little, "This is awful! I feel like I'm sucking on a lemon!"

Theo chuckled low, leaning closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the glass. “Give it here.” He murmured, voice teasing.

You held the candy between your teeth, letting him tilt your head and take it into his mouth. The kiss that followed was slow, teasing, and intimate, the world around you fading as he skillfully removed the candy without breaking the connection between your lips. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling naturally like it does whenever you kiss.

When he finally pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his eyes shone with playful delight, "You're crazy," He said, swishing the candy around in his mouth, "This is delicious."

"You two are disgusting." Mattheo muttered again, shaking his head.

You’d slipped out into the quieter corridor for a moment’s reprieve. The cool dungeon air was a relief after the heat of the crowd.

You were seated on one of the stairs, catching your breath, when footsteps echoed down the hall. You didn’t turn, but the scent of Theo hit your senses the moment he draped his jacket around your shoulders and settled beside you.

“Hi.” You murmured, leaning your head down to rest on your knees, offering a small, tired smile.

“Hi. You alright?”

You nodded, “Just a little tipsy. I needed some air.”

“Oh, I know just what to do about that.” He teased, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the flask you had gifted him. You chuckled as he opened it, handing it to you, steam curling into the cold air. You took a few sips, letting the warmth spread through you.

“When I said I was going to miss your cocoa,” He began, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I didn’t mean you should give me a lifetime supply.”

Your brows furrowed, a pang of worry settling in your chest. Did he not like the present?

"I don’t want the flask if it means you won’t be around to share it with me,” He said softly, leaning closer so only you could hear, “I’ve always just wanted you."

You took a sharp inhale, your heart beginning to pound against your ribcage.

"Are—Are you being serious?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and held something out between two fingers—a folded slip of parchment, worn at the edges, looking as though it might crumble if handled too roughly.

You frowned, “What’s this?”

“My birthday wish from last year.” He said simply.

You blinked, “Won’t giving it to me mean it won’t come true?”

His lips curved into that maddening, calm smile, “Take a look.”

You hesitated, then unfolded the paper. The ink was slightly smudged, but the words were unmistakable:

I wish for (Y/N) to notice me.

Your stomach flipped in disbelief, “Theo…”

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

The air seemed to thin around you, your pulse loud in your ears, “You… you’re serious?”

He nodded, “I’ve felt this way for a long time. I thought last year would finally be the year I made my move, but then you started dating him, and I thought I lost my chance.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered.

“I was ecstatic when you finally turned your attention to me that night. Not the way I wanted at first, maybe, but I was never going to let that chance get away from me.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, your chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and relief. Theo’s eyes were locked on yours, calm and steady, but filled with something so raw it made your heart thrum.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face, fingers lingering at his jaw. “So… all of this—” you gestured between the two of you, “—the fake dating, the kissing, the… everything… it wasn’t just to get back at them?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, “No. That part was fun, I’ll admit. But it wasn’t the real reason I wanted to be close to you.” His hand slid over yours, palm warm against yours, grounding you, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for longer than you can imagine.”

Your heart lurched, a mixture of relief and longing flooding through you, “Theo…”

He leaned closer, forehead resting against yours, voice just above a whisper, “So, what do you say? No more pretending. No more games. Just… us.”

Something inside you broke—years of tension, uncertainty, and longing unraveling in a single heartbeat. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning into him fully, “Okay,” You breathed, “Just us.”

His grin widened, a triumphant glint in his stormy eyes, and he kissed you—slow, deep, and deliberate, every touch and press of his lips sealing the promise between you. No pretense, no lies. Just the two of you, finally, fully together.

The two of you stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the distant thrum of the party fading into nothing. The world had narrowed to just you, just him, and the long-awaited start of something neither of you wanted to hide ever again.

Bonus:

Breakfast in the Great Hall felt different that morning.

You’d think that after months of this routine with Theo, another morning spent at his side wouldn’t feel so significant. But it did. Everything felt sharper, warmer. You didn’t feel like you had to prove anything anymore. You didn’t feel like you had to put on a show. The hand holding yours was hidden beneath the table, but you didn’t care if anyone saw—or if they didn’t. It didn’t matter anymore.

And yet, despite everything shifting, you and Theo were still the same—falling into that easy rhythm, voices low as you traded quiet jokes. Only now, you noticed the way it felt different. How intimate it was when Theo’s gaze lingered not just on your eyes but flickered, unconsciously, down to your lips. How he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, even in the middle of the bustling Hall.

How had you missed all the signs before?

Theo was brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb when the bliss cracked.

“Everyone!”

The word boomed too loud, slicing through the clatter of cutlery and low chatter. Your entire body stiffened before you even turned around. Of course. Him.

Your ex stood in the aisle, puffed up with self-importance, chest thrown back like he’d just mounted a stage. He had that smug gleam in his eyes, the kind that screamed he’d practiced this speech in the mirror ten times over.

“I think it’s time you all knew the truth about Theodore Nott and (Y/N) (L/N).” He announced, every syllable dripping with fake triumph. He cut a sharp look at you, then Theo, then back to the sea of students now staring.

The Hall quieted, curiosity winning out. Even the Gryffindors craned their necks, waiting for drama.

“They’ve only been pretending to date,” He declared, letting the word hang in the air, “To make me jealous.”

His voice swelled with self-satisfaction, like he’d just solved some grand mystery.

Your hand tightened around Theo's.

“You don’t have to keep pretending just to get back at me. I get it. I was angry too when we ended, but—” He paused, putting on his most magnanimous smile, “I’ll forgive you. I’ll take you back.”

The silence that followed was… brutal. Half a beat too long.

Slowly, you let your gaze drift—not at him, but across the Hall, to where his so-called new love sat, her expression crumbling as her boyfriend publicly begged for you.

A smirk ghosted across your lips, satisfaction unfurling in your chest. I warned her, you thought. You told her he’d betray her the same way he’d betrayed you. You’d just assumed he’d run to someone new. But no—he’d come crawling right back. Pathetic. Maybe you really were just too good to forget.

A ripple of laughter broke out along the Gryffindor table. Somewhere down the line, a Ravenclaw girl snorted so hard pumpkin juice sprayed out of her nose. Even some of the Slytherins traded incredulous looks, smirks curling as if to say, is he serious?

"He has officially lost the plot." Someone muttered loud enough for half the Hall to hear. Someone else chortled in response.

Your ex’s confident smile faltered.

Blaise Zabini leaned lazily on his elbows, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the hush. “Pretending?” He gestured toward you and Theo with a casual flick of his hand. “Mate, the whole castle’s been gagging on their PDA for months.”

Someone else piped up, "Yeah. If that’s pretend, then they deserve Oscars. The way he looks at her—like she’s the only thing in the world—you’d have to be blind to miss it.”

You chuckled, dropping your gaze from the pathetic sight in front of you and turned back to your current boyfriend, who only smirked at you, though you could see the tenderness that lay underneath, "See? Everyone else could see I was gone for you before you did."

Bonus bonus: (Ten years later)

The day you first kissed Theodore Nott was arguably one of the worst days of your life, despite all the good that eventually came from it. The betrayal of seeing the person you loved cheat on you with your best friend was a wound so deep it had reshaped you.

Theo had always claimed he was glad he’d never experienced anything like it. Until the same thing happened to him.

“This is killing me,” He muttered, pacing the length of your shared bedroom like a man awaiting his execution. His hands dragged through his hair, his voice raw, “I hope you know that.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced an eyeroll, masking your sympathy with irritation, “Theo, it’s not that big of a deal. Will you stop getting your knickers twisted?”

He whirled on you, eyes blazing. “Not a big deal? Not a big—” He broke off, laughing bitterly, “You were so betrayed when this happened to you that you practically tore their lives apart. And now you expect me to just—what? Pretend I’m fine?”

You scoffed, folding your arms, “We are not comparing the biggest betrayal of my life with your daughter having a crush on Mattheo.”

The air went still.

Theo staggered back a step, like you’d struck him. His face twisted in horror as his hand clutched his chest. “Don’t say it out loud.” He croaked, his voice breaking.

He looked genuinely wounded, muttering under his breath as though mourning a death, “I raised her better than this…She used to want to marry me!”

Before you could roll your eyes again, the shrill ding-dong of the doorbell cut through the tension.

Theo froze mid-step, every muscle in his body going taut. Slowly, his head turned toward the door like a man staring down a firing squad.

And then—

“HE’S HERE!”

Your three-year-old's shriek echoed down the hall, followed by the thunder of little feet pounding against the floorboards. She practically skidded into the foyer, hair wild, socks sliding on the wood as she lunged for the door.

“Bianca, you know you're not allowed to open the door without us!” Theo barked, but it was too late.

The door swung wide.

Mattheo Riddle stood there, casual, self-assured, hands shoved in his pockets. A faint, rakish smirk tugged at his lips. With the leather jacket and helmet under his arm, it was easy to see why your daughter was utterly smitten. Had you not known the fool he was during school, you might have been just as captivated.

“Hi.” He drawled, eyes immediately landing on his god-daughter.

“UNCLE MATTHEO!” Bianca squealed, launching herself into his arms without hesitation. He caught her with practiced ease, lifting and spinning her once before settling her on his hip.

Mattheo shifted her higher onto his hip, grinning like he owned the place, “And who’s my favorite girl?”

“Me!” She squealed, giggling as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Theo’s jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard it crack. His knuckles whitened at his sides, and he took one menacing step forward like he was about to snatch his daughter back by force.

Mattheo, utterly unbothered, tilted his head, smirk widening. “I see someone’s cranky.” He teased lightly, holding Bianca closer with a teasing flourish.

"(Y/N) did not go through 14 hours of aggravating labour for this horrendous display."

“Now you know how I felt all those years back at Hogwarts, watching you two glued to each other’s lips like a bad romance novel.”

To be added to a taglist, please send me an ask! (I might respond to you in comments but I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally miss it)

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[starzioo]

i biblically need this man.

[my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat]

Just keep watching

Pairing - Theodore Nott x Gf! reader

Summary - When you see yourself up on the big screen paired with Riddle, you freeze. Loud, yank jeers sound - you want to disappear. Luckily, your boyfriend's right behind you, ready to save the day.

Warnings - None ✿

WC: 0.8K

You had grown up completely quidditch-obsessed. Your room was draped head to toe with Holyhead Harpies merchandise, shelves weighted with frames of your favourite players.

You always told yourself that you'd become one of them - a player for the archives to be admired on and off the pitch. 

When you got to Hogwarts everything just clicked; by your third year, you were your house's star chaser - fast, agile, quick-thinking, everything that could be desired.

And your interests in the league had only exacerbated. Now, at seventeen, you had been scouted by your favourite team; a prospect for the Harpies, their newest starting chaser position waiting for when you finally graduate.

You'd been spoiled ever since they signed you. A rotation of brooms, kit, and so much more with the crest splashed across it. 

But best of all was the tickets. Whatever match you had a mere half a mind of going to; the admission for your entire party would be owled at a moment's notice. 

You took full advantage, and that's how you landed yourself at the Quidditch World Cup semi-final, Britain vs America, in the cosmopolitan stadium that blared the Star-Spangled Banner.

One of the many stereotypes of the American people that was confirmed today was the fact that they're friendly. Like, obnoxiously friendly.

And they also have deafening surround-sound speakers - what's up with that? They tend to use those systems to point out absolutely anyone of substance during breaks in play; god forbid anyone endure boredom.

You were just waiting for half time to end, trying your best to block out the cacophony of accents around you from all of Theo's little friends bickering with the blokes next to them about the match's "sure" outcome.

Your boyfriend had ran away, to be honest. You were fine with it because you knew that a loud, crowded area was the last place he thrived, but you still made his return with a cherry coke part of the freedom negotiations.

You switched the legs you had crossed and fiddled with a strand of your hair, lazily splitting it into three strands and beginning to plait it out of the drawling of the intermission.

The Americans had you in this match, there was no doubt. You wondered what they fed their children, because Merlin, were they all the size of a skyscraper on creatine. You brits couldn't compete with that. Your pasty, average 5'6, selves just didn't compare. You were quick, though. You could put up a fight if you needed to; clearly they just weren't tryin-

"C-c-c-come onnn!" 

A disgustingly off key screech that reminded of a muggle cartoon beamed through the stands.

"Hope you remembered your lip balm 'cause it's time for the kiss cam!" The melody made you roll your eyes in annoyance, undoing the small braid in preparation to redo it.

But then you were hit with cheers threatening your ears, and stares all over you. You looked up at the screen in confusion, and then your bored eyes widened in horror.

The thick, southern accent began again. "Bee-utiful young couple for y'all. Go on, give us a smooch."

You...and Riddle on the screen? Ew, ew, ew.

He had already begun shaking his head, trying to convince the onlookers to piss off, probably a few moments away from saying you were his sister.

"Oh, come on!" The speakers screeched again, your reddened cheeks about to pop with overwhelm.

That's when you felt it, the hand on your neck, the thumb pushing on the underside of your chin, forcing your head back to meet your boyfriend's waiting lips.

Theo's mouth claimed yours for a moment - hard and slow - an affirmation to you, and a correction to the audience. You weren't fucking Mattheo's. You were all his.

The explosion of cheers from the entertained crowd began, but you barely heard them.

Your boyfriend pulled away from the kiss, trailing it to the tip of your nose and forehead, then finally finishing his walk along his aisle, descending onto yours and taking his seat between you and Matt.

He wore a prideful smirk and held your cherried drink out to you. You took it silently, sipping it with your eyes locked on his while his thumb cleaned up the marks of your lip gloss that he had tracked across your face.

Riddle threw his arms over his best friend's shoulders from behind, a mocking lilt to his rough voice. "Oh, mwah, mwah, mwah, love you so much, marry me-"

Nott just rolled his eyes and scrunched his cheeks with his hand, muffling Matt's words without even looking at him. 

Once satisfied with your clear face, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and eyed the dots of condensation around the can. "Cold enough, cara?" He murmured softly.

You nodded, releasing your straw and smiling, pressing your lips to his tan cheek.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that was a hall of fame-worthy kiss! Make some noise!"

Theodore Nott m.list 𓆩❤︎𓆪

repost of shame because i accidentally deleted it. i really need to be more careful with my mass post editor lol

Slytherin boys taglist

[theosdoll]

paper monster.

pairing: dad!theodore nott / husband!theodore nott x fem!reader, wc: 0.9k

summary: in which, one evening at the nott family manor, theo spends time playing with his son.

tags/warning: domestic fluff, established relationship, attempts of italian, grammar, elio is a clever baby and bilingual.

a/n: again, i originally wrote this for a different fandom a few years back, but i feel like it matches theodore too ^^ aaaa btw i’m currently writing something new for theo at the moment and it’s taking me a bit longer than expected i can’t wait to post it <3

masterlist

“alright amore, what do you wanna play, hmm?” theo sat down on the couch, taking a look at his two year old son who was mirroring his action.

“i learned how to play rock-paper-scissors!” the little boy, elio, exclaimed excitedly. theo couldn’t hide his smile as he looked at elio’s shiny eyes that resembled a lot like his wife.

his favourite pair of eyes ever.

“oh yeah? did mama teach you that?” theo’s bigger hand ruffles elio’s soft dark curls as the little one nodded enthusiastically.

“papà, let’s play,” elio stood up on his little feet almost immediately. “i will pull out a.. rock! so-so.. you need to do scissors.. like this… with your hand,” the toddler tried his best to explain the game to his father as he gestured his smaller hands.

theo let out a chuckle at elio’s cuteness, wishing moments like this lasted forever.

“but that would be cheating! papà will lose then,”

elio gave theo a gleamed smile. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” and as promised, elio pulled out a rock but his smile faded as he looked at his father’s hand… how dare he pulled a paper!

“i won!” theo exclaimed playfully. he chuckled softly as he watched elio’s reaction.

“ah, no… perché hai scelto carta…?” elio pouted silently as he began to break into sobs. (why did you choose paper?)

“oh, piccolo, scusa, no no no no, c’mere,” theo rushingly pulled his crying son to his arms.

“theo, honey? everything’s okay?” your voice from the kitchen rings in theo’s ears.

“sì, darling! don’t worry i got him!” theo stroked elio’s smaller back softly. his touch gentle and reassuring. the soothing motion calmed elio almost instantly.

“let’s play again, va bene? i’m sorry, baby,”

elio wiped his tears off his eyes. “papà, y-you need to… do a s-scissors…” he said between hiccups, still trying to calm down from his cries.

and so the second round began. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!”

suppressing his laugh, theo only grinned and pulled a paper again, far too pleased with himself.

the same look of disappointment from earlier came across the baby’s face, his tiny features falling in the most dramatic way that theo could have sworn he’d seen on you countless time throughout your years of dating—usually whenever he teased you just to get a reaction.

he had an idea for what to do next; one that was either hilariously clever or absolutely terrible. knowing theo, it was almost certainly terrible.

elio, however, did not seem nearly as entertained as his father.

“i’m the paper monster! rrrahh—i’m gonna eat you!” theo exclaimed as he engulfed elio’s little fist with his hands. elio wasted no time before bursting into yet another loud cry that evening, his wails filling the room almost instantly.

hearing the loud noise from the kitchen, you hurried to the living room and quickly scooped elio into your arms, holding him close as you tried to soothe his tears.

“aww, va bene, tesoro, va bene… shh, shh, shh,” you cooed gently, rocking elio into your arms until his cries began to quiet.

with elio’s head buried against your shoulder, you lifted your eyes to theo and shot him a sharp glare, mouthing ‘what is happening?’

theo just shook his head and threw both hands into the air in defense. “i was just trying to play with him,” he said helplessly.

“you scared him!” you whispered back.

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. i just thought paper monster would be fun, you know…”

theo bent down closer to the two of you. carefully, he tapped elio’s small shoulder with one finger. when elio turned to him, theo flashed an easy smile. “hi, amore, puoi fare carta?” (can you make paper?)

theo reached out and stroked elio’s hand. “papà will pull out the rock this time,” 

elio smiled back at him instantly. as you watched them, the thought cross your mind again. elio seemed to look more and more like theo with every passing day. they even shared the same dimpled smile, you thought.

“okay, papà, promettimelo,” and theo nodded his head. (promise me)

“rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” 

this time, theo kept his word, throwing his fist into the air. elio’s smile only got bigger as he eagerly smacked his tiny open hand against theo’s fist.

“i’m the paper monster now!”

“arghhh! someone save help me!” theo gasped dramatically. he pulled his free fist to his chest like he’d been struck down, then flopped onto the couch, acting as though he’d just been attacked by a terrifying monster.

elio let out a loud laugh at his father’s dramatic antics. wriggling free from your arms, he hurried over to theo and began playfully fighting with him. you could only shake your head, with a smile plastered on your face as you watched the two boys together.

theo had always known exactly what to do to make his son laugh again. it was a skill he’d perfected during all those years spent together with you, where he would do whatever it took just to see your beautiful smile and hear that contagious laugh of yours. it was also moments like these that theo felt the strongest urge to be better than his own father had ever been. to raise his child with gentleness, to love without causing pain and becoming the kind of parent that he himself had once needed.

you returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, thinking about how lucky you were to have theo as your husband and the father of your son.

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[allurearia]

So cutee omgg 😭😭💞💞

[rarebambi]

…FORGOTTEN CIGARETTES

bsf!theodore nott x bsf!reader, smoking, making out, drabble

dividers by the lovely @uzmacchiato

(masterlist) (nav)

“theo, you know how bad those are for you right?” you muttered, waving a smoke cloud out of your face.

tobacco and unspoken words hung heavy in the crisp november air of the night. students asleep in their dormitories, you loved being alone with theo. no one else, just the two of you.

“yeah, ‘s too late now” he replied, blowing another puff of smoke into the air. you leaned against the cold cobblestone wall, looking at the boys side profile.

his legs hung loose and carefree over the thick stone railing, his head tilted up to release the smoke. “what do you mean, ‘too late’?” you question.

“it’s just, if it’s so bad f’me and i’ve already smoked so much, might as well just keep going” theo tried to explain his point of view. you’re lost, the words don’t make sense.

“do you want a hit?” he offers the burning cigarette to you, shifting his body to face yours. “i’m okay.” you shrug him off. “are you too scared?” theo teases, a smirk playing on his face as he takes another drag of smoke.

“no, i just have common sense and i know that stuff is bad for you.”

“you’re a fucking nerd, y’know that?”

“i’m serious theo! it’s high risk with no reward, honestly.” you tell him, trying to convince him to stop. you never liked cigarettes, the smell bothered you and to you, the concept was stupid.

suck in a puff of smoke, breath it out, repeat it, get addicted, then your health gets bad. you knew theo smoked a lot, for some reason it bugged you more than it should.

“they’re my fuckin’ lungs” he murmured under his breath as a cloud of smoke poured from the man’s lips. “i’m sorry i care.” a twang of annoyance riddled beneath your tongue.

“fine.” he says after a small delay. you watch theo toss his beloved cigarette off the astronomy tower, reaching into his pocket to grab something.

“here,” he hands you a pack of malboro lights. “take these. don’t give me one no matter how many times i ask.” you hesitate reaching out your hand.

“theo if you want to smoke, just smoke.”

“no, keep them.” he directs, hastily shoving them in your hands. “i don’t want them.” you try to give them back to him, watching as his body language closes off.

“throw them away, use them, give them to mattheo, i don’t care what you do with them! just don’t let me have one.” a pause of silence passes before you speak up again.

“theo, don’t be—“

“stop. i told you what to do, it’s for my health, or whatever you say.” he cuts you off, now fully facing you. “i… okay.” you sigh, pocketing the beat up pack.

“you sure theo? your cigarettes? i mean, you’ve been smoking since you were like what? fifteen? i just—“ your words get lost as you notice theo inching closer to you. shifting his weight on his hands until he’s a few inches away from your face.

next thing you know, his hands are in your hair and his lips are on yours. the faint taste of tobacco lingers on theo’s tongue, he hoped it didn’t change anything about the kiss.

he guided his tongue to your lips, entering your mouth as he shifted even closer. you kissed back passionately, holding his neck closer.

theo was supposed to be ‘just a friend’, but you always wondered what would happen if you kissed him randomly. well, it’s happening.

after a few seconds of theo’s tongue prodding your mouth, you pull away to catch your breath.

“that’s, uhm—“

“i’m sorry, i just—“

“cara mia, i can only handle one addiction at a time.” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

tessa’s notes… theo fluff omg this is a first

taglist: @emely9274 @baileysturnz @sllutty-sturniolo @chrisspussygang @evansturn @sturniolosluttt @kisschriss @sheluvsthesturniolos @sparklybtch @kaybugga @slvt4subchratt @csturnioloswifey @moond0llie @chrissleftshoe @sweetheartsangel @angelth1nsworld @sturrrrnslvt @sturnsfavxo @wh0remikasas @dollforprice @bluefans-blog @bittenbymatt @briithadoll @myunperfektstorys @jolly4holly @whore4chris @angel-sturn1 @goldilxcksblog @destructivegalexy @error404blameitontheblackstar @kimberlyxmalfoy @scarlet2025 @devotedlyteenagemusic @jadestxrnzz @angelonyourspeeddial @chellyxo @theosamore @courta13 @misamanson @coryoslut @barkingtoenail @sturniolohohoho

comment to be added or removed.

© rarebambi

[danieletramet]

[theosdoll]

paper monster.

pairing: dad!theodore nott / husband!theodore nott x fem!reader, wc: 0.9k

summary: in which, one evening at the nott family manor, theo spends time playing with his son.

tags/warning: domestic fluff, established relationship, attempts of italian, grammar, elio is a clever baby and bilingual.

a/n: again, i originally wrote this for a different fandom a few years back, but i feel like it matches theodore too ^^ aaaa btw i’m currently writing something new for theo at the moment and it’s taking me a bit longer than expected i can’t wait to post it <3

masterlist

“alright amore, what do you wanna play, hmm?” theo sat down on the couch, taking a look at his two year old son who was mirroring his action.

“i learned how to play rock-paper-scissors!” the little boy, elio, exclaimed excitedly. theo couldn’t hide his smile as he looked at elio’s shiny eyes that resembled a lot like his wife.

his favourite pair of eyes ever.

“oh yeah? did mama teach you that?” theo’s bigger hand ruffles elio’s soft dark curls as the little one nodded enthusiastically.

“papà, let’s play,” elio stood up on his little feet almost immediately. “i will pull out a.. rock! so-so.. you need to do scissors.. like this… with your hand,” the toddler tried his best to explain the game to his father as he gestured his smaller hands.

theo let out a chuckle at elio’s cuteness, wishing moments like this lasted forever.

“but that would be cheating! papà will lose then,”

elio gave theo a gleamed smile. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” and as promised, elio pulled out a rock but his smile faded as he looked at his father’s hand… how dare he pulled a paper!

“i won!” theo exclaimed playfully. he chuckled softly as he watched elio’s reaction.

“ah, no… perché hai scelto carta…?” elio pouted silently as he began to break into sobs. (why did you choose paper?)

“oh, piccolo, scusa, no no no no, c’mere,” theo rushingly pulled his crying son to his arms.

“theo, honey? everything’s okay?” your voice from the kitchen rings in theo’s ears.

“sì, darling! don’t worry i got him!” theo stroked elio’s smaller back softly. his touch gentle and reassuring. the soothing motion calmed elio almost instantly.

“let’s play again, va bene? i’m sorry, baby,”

elio wiped his tears off his eyes. “papà, y-you need to… do a s-scissors…” he said between hiccups, still trying to calm down from his cries.

and so the second round began. “rock-paper-scissors, shoot!”

suppressing his laugh, theo only grinned and pulled a paper again, far too pleased with himself.

the same look of disappointment from earlier came across the baby’s face, his tiny features falling in the most dramatic way that theo could have sworn he’d seen on you countless time throughout your years of dating—usually whenever he teased you just to get a reaction.

he had an idea for what to do next; one that was either hilariously clever or absolutely terrible. knowing theo, it was almost certainly terrible.

elio, however, did not seem nearly as entertained as his father.

“i’m the paper monster! rrrahh—i’m gonna eat you!” theo exclaimed as he engulfed elio’s little fist with his hands. elio wasted no time before bursting into yet another loud cry that evening, his wails filling the room almost instantly.

hearing the loud noise from the kitchen, you hurried to the living room and quickly scooped elio into your arms, holding him close as you tried to soothe his tears.

“aww, va bene, tesoro, va bene… shh, shh, shh,” you cooed gently, rocking elio into your arms until his cries began to quiet.

with elio’s head buried against your shoulder, you lifted your eyes to theo and shot him a sharp glare, mouthing ‘what is happening?’

theo just shook his head and threw both hands into the air in defense. “i was just trying to play with him,” he said helplessly.

“you scared him!” you whispered back.

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. i just thought paper monster would be fun, you know…”

theo bent down closer to the two of you. carefully, he tapped elio’s small shoulder with one finger. when elio turned to him, theo flashed an easy smile. “hi, amore, puoi fare carta?” (can you make paper?)

theo reached out and stroked elio’s hand. “papà will pull out the rock this time,” 

elio smiled back at him instantly. as you watched them, the thought cross your mind again. elio seemed to look more and more like theo with every passing day. they even shared the same dimpled smile, you thought.

“okay, papà, promettimelo,” and theo nodded his head. (promise me)

“rock-paper-scissors, shoot!” 

this time, theo kept his word, throwing his fist into the air. elio’s smile only got bigger as he eagerly smacked his tiny open hand against theo’s fist.

“i’m the paper monster now!”

“arghhh! someone save help me!” theo gasped dramatically. he pulled his free fist to his chest like he’d been struck down, then flopped onto the couch, acting as though he’d just been attacked by a terrifying monster.

elio let out a loud laugh at his father’s dramatic antics. wriggling free from your arms, he hurried over to theo and began playfully fighting with him. you could only shake your head, with a smile plastered on your face as you watched the two boys together.

theo had always known exactly what to do to make his son laugh again. it was a skill he’d perfected during all those years spent together with you, where he would do whatever it took just to see your beautiful smile and hear that contagious laugh of yours. it was also moments like these that theo felt the strongest urge to be better than his own father had ever been. to raise his child with gentleness, to love without causing pain and becoming the kind of parent that he himself had once needed.

you returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, thinking about how lucky you were to have theo as your husband and the father of your son.

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[theosdoll]

don’t wait up.

pairing: theodore nott x reader, wc: 0.6k

summary: theodore returning from a late night quidditch practice session, only to find you already fast asleep.

a/n: my first post! this was actually modified from my old writing account so if it feels familiar, that explains why lmao anyways i love soft theo <3

dropping his protective gear backpack on the ground, theodore dragged his tired steps towards the slytherin common room. his gaze softened the moment it found you, fast asleep on the couch. his chest tightened at the thought of you waiting up for him, only to drift off in the quiet.

theo walked to the side of the couch and leaned forward, admiring your sleepy state. a small smile appeared on his lips. with the semi finals of quidditch cup drawing near, flint wanted everyone pushed through endless drills and repeated plays until the whole team was exhausted. his muscle ached from hours on the broom and the cold air still clung to his skin. but the moment he saw your peaceful face, every bit of fatigue seemed to melt away. just like you always did.

not wanting to wake you up, he slowly slipped his hands under your torso and knees as he carried you to his dorm. holding you carefully as if you were made of glass, he laid your body on his four poster bed and wrapped the blanket on you.

theo smiled to himself when you let out a soft groan, eyes still closing. he leaned forward and left a quick kiss on your forehead before changing into something more comfortable, having already taken a shower in the changing room beforehand.

that smooch, by the way, woke you slightly up. 

“theo?” you mumbled as you saw him pulling his freshly washed white shirt through his head and fell fast enough to cover a glimpse of his exposed chest. immediately, he slid himself under the blanket beside you as you stirred awake.

“hi, bella,” he said as he pulled you close into his embrace and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. you couldn’t help but smile when you finally heard the voice that you had longed the entire day.

moving your head to the side, you looked up and kissed his jawline. “i’ve missed you,” you confessed, still feeling a little sleepy. theo gave you that soft smile, the one he only reserved for moments like this with you.

“i missed you too, i’m sorry for making you wait for me. you know you didn’t have to, right?” he caressed your arms slowly, tracing lazy circles along it. he caught the faint shiver that ran through you when his breath brushed so close and warm against your ear. you were certain you might melt right then, from the gentleness in his words and lingering touch of his fingers against your skin.

“i know, but i still want to,”

“but you always ended up falling asleep before i get back, tesoro. you need your beauty sleep…—dream of something nice,” he murmured, a teasing tone slipping into his voice. “preferably me.”

he let out a tiny chuckle. and at this moment, you didn’t have it in you to playfully push back. too tired to argue, you turned in his arms to finally face him and just laughed it off, quietly enjoying this side of playful theo that seemed meant just for you.

“i promise, once all of these practices and matches are over, i’m all yours,” he said as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “then we can spend all the time we want together.”

you leaned into his touch without thinking with a small smile plastered on your face.

“promise?” you gazed up into his eyes, still feeling a little drowsy. 

“promise.” he whispered as he leaned in and connected his lips with yours together. you smiled slightly into the kiss, feeling every part of him on you before you both pulled away.

“goodnight, baby.”

© theodsdoll on tumblr, 2026.

[glitterypinkconverse]

૭ the hospital wing  — ꒰ theodore nott x fem!reader ꒱ !

𓍯 summary you occasionally help madam pomfrey in the hospital wing, wanting to gain experience for the future. upon learning this, theo makes it his mission to go there every time you’re there.

𓍯 word count 4.5k

𓍯 warnings mentions of violences, bruises, injury, mentions of fevers

𓍯 author's note i may have self projected with this one wanting to be a nurse and all... but this was too cute i had to write it! my requests are now open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write! hope you all enjoy, likes and reblogs are appreciated as always ♡

Somehow, in some way, you had managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that she needed an assistant in the hospital wing. And that that assistant should be you.

Wanting to become a Healer at St. Mungo’s in the future, you decided that this experience was needed and would potentially boost you in the ranks. Having a good relationship with Madam Pomfrey prior to you asking helped eternally.

You could only help out on the weekends and some nights due to your classes, education always coming first. Madam Pomfrey would always give you the mundane tasks: replacing the sheets, making the beds, ordering refills, and giving food to the patients. While they were boring, you still gained valuable experience from it.

The first time she let you treat patients was when five boys came into the hospital wing, all bloodied and bruised. It was certainly a sight to see, something unusual for a plain Tuesday night. Three Slytherins and two Gryffindors.

You knew the two Gryffindors, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You were quite surprised they landed themselves in the hospital wing, but knowing their reputation of never leaving things alone, it also made sense.

However, you didn’t know two of the Slytherins. You knew Draco Malfoy because he constantly roamed the halls, terrorizing the first and second years. You learned upon some listening that the other two’s names were Mattheo Riddle and Blaise Zabini. Why they all got into a fight, you didn’t know.

Madam Pomfrey quickly called you over to tend to Mattheo who got the least of the bunch. You weren’t sure why he had a surprised look on his face as he heard your name and saw you walking over to him, but you brushed it off.

“We’ll go over here,” you pointed to a bed closest to the door, waiting for him to settle down on it. Once he did, you quickly walked off to the supply cabinet, excitement coursing through you. Finally, you got to heal someone.

You didn’t see Blaise and Draco’s surprised looks as you passed them.

Humming softly, you made your way back over to Mattheo. From rumors you heard that he was a flirt, flirting with anything that had legs. But surprisingly, he was quiet this whole time. You didn’t think much of it, grateful that you didn’t have to make much conversation with him apart from checking up on him.

“Are you normally here?” Mattheo asked out of the blue, his eyebrows raised and eyes squinted as you assessed him. You paused for a moment, caught off guard by that question.

“Only on the weekends and some nights when I don’t have a pile of schoolwork.” you answered easily, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Why?”

A smirk formed on Mattheo’s face, shaking his head as he responded. “No reason. It’s just that I’m commonly here and have never seen you here before.” You nodded your head slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. You quickly jumped back into your caretaking, giving him a potion to heal his cuts easily.

“You may still have the bruises for a couple of days, but they shouldn’t hurt that much. I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to check you over.” you explained, before leaving his bedside. He nodded, still suspiciously quiet for someone like him.

You didn’t catch the knowing look he sent to Draco and Blaise.

Theodore Nott was one that never wanted to get into fights, opting to stay in the back. A quiet and reserved boy he was, he didn’t want to get into much trouble and do things that would bring attention to him. Here and there he was roped into them by none other than Mattheo, which led to a detention he didn’t want on his record.

When Mattheo returned back to the common room that night he spotted Theo sitting at a table with Lorenzo, entirely focused on his homework. He quickly made his way over to them, sitting next to Theo with a mischievous look on his face. Theo hadn’t noticed him, too enamored over his Transfiguration homework.

Lorenzo kicked Theo’s leg from under the table when he realized that Theo didn’t spot the boy sitting next to him. He furrowed his brows, looking over Mattheo. When he didn’t say anything, Theo sighed, narrowing his eyes towards him. “What?” Theo asked, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

A cheeky smile formed on Mattheo’s face once he got his friend’s attention. “Oh nothing. I just returned from the hospital wing.” he spoke, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I’m aware.” Theo spoke slowly, trying to figure out what was going on in Mattheo’s mind. “I’m taking it the other two won’t be returning until later?”

“Correct. Malfoy’s got a broken nose and Zabini’s got a broken jaw. But that’s not the point!” Mattheo spoke quickly, adjusting himself in his seat. He cast Lorenzo a look, before looking back at Theo. “Your girl treated me. She works at the hospital wing some days.” he spoke with a grin, noticing Theo’s falter.

Theo knew exactly who they were talking about but didn’t want it to be known. He raised an eyebrow, feigning an expression of confusion. “My girl?”

Enzo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Oh come on, Nott, you know exactly who he’s talking about.” Enzo piped in, receiving a death glare from Theo.

Once Mattheo said your name Theo swore the universe was coming together. Now he finally had an excuse to talk to you, to see you, and to look at you without being teased.

The boys knew about Theo’s not-so-tiny infatuation with you. He was always staring at you during class, in the Great Hall, even during passing in the corridors. But would he ever talk to you? Merlin, no. You were always either with your group of friends or so enamored in your books that you didn’t notice anyone was around you.

How did he develop this little crush? He didn’t know. All he knew was that one day he saw you and immediately knew you weren’t like the rest. You weren’t loud, you weren’t cruel, and you most certainly weren’t outgoing. Your quietness drew him towards you, but it also led him to fear you. In the way he was too scared to approach you, of course.

“Alright. And what do you want me to do with this information?” Theo asked, as if he wasn’t planning ways to go to the hospital wing already.

Both of the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, spending the rest of the night convincing Theodore to just go to the hospital wing to see you. And finally make a move.

The first time Theo went down to the hospital wing was on a Thursday evening, hoping you were there.

It was a quite lame reason to be going to the hospital wing, to be honest. But what could he do? He just wanted to see you!

To his luck you were there tying on your apron, signaling that you had just gotten there as well. He smiled and then quickly wiped it away, knowing he had to act as if he was in some sort of pain.

You hadn't noticed him yet, too preoccupied with pinning up your hair and making sure you had all of your things for the evening. As he stared at you, Madam Pomfrey broke him out of his trance, making you turn your head towards him.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Madam Pomfrey asked him. He blinked and looked away from you, caught slightly off guard.

“I cut myself.” he spoke blankly, holding up his finger. “I was… er… cutting up some ingredients for potions and cut myself on accident.”

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, as did you. “Well, that’s an easy fix,” she called out your name. As you approached them you gave Theo a small smile, and he swore his stomach turned inside out. “She can help you. I have to tend to some other students.” she explained and then walked away.

Theo made eye contact with you finally, giving you a small smile he never gave anyone. He shocked himself with his own actions. You were saying something, lips moving, but he didn’t quite catch it. Then all of a sudden you were walking away, and he quickly rushed after you.

“You won’t have to stay here long because it’s just a little cut,” you explained softly, setting him down on a bed. You sat down next to him, grabbing his hand gently to examine the cut. “How much does it hurt?”

Too overwhelmed with the sensation of your hand on his and your perfume lingering in the air, he choked on his words. When you looked up at him because he didn’t respond, he managed to finally form some words. “Not… not bad, yeah.” he replied quietly, his heart leaping out of his chest at how close you were.

You smiled and nodded your head, letting go of his hand. “Some Murtlap Essence should treat that quickly. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” you spoke quickly, getting up and going to the back. He watched as you retreated to some cabinets, grabbing something out of it. But he wasn’t entirely focused on what you were getting.

Theo was deeply regretting this decision. He found himself unable to speak to you without stuttering, and he didn’t know how to act right near you. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and straightened up, resuming his plan. He just hoped that you didn’t send another smile at him, otherwise he feared that he would need a real reason to stay at the hospital wing that night. 

Once you came back with a tiny bowl of Murtlap Essence, you handed it to him. “Place this on your lap and just dip your finger into it. Your cut should be gone in no time.” you explained, watching him put his finger into the bowl. He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, and you nodded.

You moved away from the bed, grabbing a clipboard from the nightstand. You turned back towards Theo, a small smile creeping up on your face at his look of disgust towards the bowl. “Some people do find it gross, but I promise it works.” you reassured him, a little giggle escaping your lips. He looked up at you, feeling as if he could melt. But all he did was nod.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “Does feel a bit weird. How long do I have to do this for?” he asked, ignoring the way his heart was thumping rapidly.

“Ten minutes or so. Your cut wasn’t that deep, so you should be fine.” you answered, and he nodded his head. There was something in the air, a steadiness around the two of you. “I just need a bit of information from you,” you started and showed him the clipboard. “Just your name and house would do. Madam Pomfrey will fill the rest out.”

A small pang shot through Theo’s chest. Either you really didn’t know his name or you were just playing dumb. It’s not like he expected you to know his name, but he must have thought you would have at least heard something about him. He cleared his throat, straightening up a bit. “Theodore Nott. Slytherin.” he responded quietly.

You hummed, filling the clipboard out with a pen. “Theodore. Nice to meet you.” you smiled down at him and told him your name. For once a genuine smile appeared on his face, the way his name slipped from your lips felt almost perfect.

“Call me Theo.” he spoke back, his confidence growing again. Your smile widened slightly and you nodded your head.

“Theo.” you repeated, and you swore you saw his eyes light up.

It became somewhat of a ritual, Theo coming in at least three times a week just to see you. Whether it be because of a papercut or because he was dragging Mattheo in after a fight, he always found a way to come in. Madam Pomfrey caught on quickly, noticing how the boy came in for the littlest things. She always sent him to you, saying she had more important matters to tend to. Even though she didn’t.

You noticed that he came in on three specific days: Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. You had told him one day that those were the days you were always there, alternating between the other days based on how much schoolwork and studying you had to do. He remembered it all.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him endearing; it’s not like he was annoying, no. It was just a little silly to be constantly coming into the hospital wing. But who were you to complain, you loved seeing him there.

Today was another silly excuse to be here. It was a Saturday morning and you had just started, planning on only being there for two or three hours. It was a very slow morning, Madam Pomfrey once again giving you the mundane tasks. That was until Theo came in.

He came in with that signature smirk of his, strolling right up to you and past Madam Pomfrey. She simply raised her eyebrows and smiled, used to Theo coming in almost every time you were here now.

“What is it this time, Theo?” you asked, a gentle smile on your face as he walked up to you. He gave a small cough, the smirk still on his face.

“Sick.” he answered, though he looked far from it. You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face.

“Really? You look perfectly fine to me.” you replied, eyeing him. You made your way to the back, going to organize all the potions from a shipment that just came in. He just shrugged casually, practically chasing after you as you walked away from him. He pouted, stopping right in front of you.

“No, really. Feel my forehead,” he spoke with a pout, “make me feel better, infermiera. I’m burning up.” he teased, fighting the urge to smile at your expression.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reluctantly placing the back of your hand on his forehead. You raised your eyebrows, feeling nothing. “You feel and look perfectly fine, Theo.” you said, raising your eyebrows as that smirk crept on his face again.

“I guess being around you makes my temperature spike.” he said with an easy confidence, causing you to pause for a moment. He noticed your flustered state, and took it as a good sign. Before he could say anything you cleared your throat, a sarcastic smile on your face.

“Very funny Theo,” you started, shaking your head and walking away from him. “If that’s true, then I think you’re just here to see me.” you said sarcastically, laughing at your own words.

When you first met Theo you had no idea who he was. But after the first meeting and days of classes, his name was the only one you could hear. You heard rumors about him—that he’s unavailable, a major flirt, quiet, rude, kind—everything. You didn’t know what to think about him.

That was until he kept showing up at the hospital wing, changing your view of him. He was a flirt, and he did seem quiet, but something that surprised you was that he had a good heart.

He would come into the hospital wing to pick a Pepperup potion for students in the younger years when they needed one. He always brought his friends in after they got into fights and stayed with them until they were fixed up. He also always followed Madam Pomfrey’s rules, promptly leaving when he saw it got too busy or when she simply told him to leave.

So you may have developed a little crush on him. But you never thought he would think of you as anything more than Madam Pomfrey’s assistant that he could easily bother.

Too wrapped up in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Theo frozen in his spot at your words. Sure, he wasn’t being the most subtle when it came for his feelings about you. However, something about you knowing made it feel a little bit too real. He was trying to hide them but also make it known, see if you maybe felt the same way he did.

He cleared his throat, the smirk on his face once again. “Looks like you’ve got me all figured out.” he replied softly. You picked it up as a joke, rolling your eyes at him with a smile on your face. Oblivious to his real feelings, you convinced yourself that everything he did was for entertainment. But you secretly wished they weren’t.

Theo was actually hurt the next time he went to the hospital wing. During Quidditch practice one of the beaters accidentally sent the bludger flying towards him, knocking him off his broom. Luckily, it wasn’t that far of a fall. Unfortunately for him he had to spend a couple of nights in the hospital wing due to a broken arm.

Sunday afternoon you were just about wrapping up, when all of a sudden Theo was being hauled in by Mattheo. A flash of panic and confusion shot through you. Was this him just being silly again? No, if he was just stopping by he wouldn’t look extremely tired and he would be able to walk fine.

You were frozen in your spot until Madam Pomfrey rushed past you, going straight up to Theo. Mattheo dropped him off on a bed and you immediately stood beside him, looking down at Theo who was now lying down on the bed. “What happened?” you quickly asked Mattheo as Madam Pomfrey assessed Theo.

“Damn bludger hit him and he fell off his broom.” Mattheo explained, shaking his head. He looked over at you and saw your wide eyes and nervous expression and immediately tried to reassure you. “It wasn’t much of a fall, but it seems to have done some damage.” he muttered lowly, bringing his eyes back to Theo.

You gulped, your eyes shifting down to Theo. His eyes were unfocused and glazed, shifting around the room in search of you. When he saw you, a playful smile formed on his face. “Can’t kick me out now.” he teased, wincing slightly as Madam Pomfrey moved his arm. You rolled your eyes, a small but nervous smile on your face.

Madam Pomfrey had signaled you to get something, breaking eye contact with Theo. You rushed over to grab whatever potions she needed and brought it over, not catching the knowing smirk on Mattheo’s face. Madam Pomfrey had used a quick spell to repair his bones, but that didn’t mean he didn't feel pain from it.

Once Madam Pomfrey treated him to the best she could for now, Mattheo had left the hospital wing and it was just you two. You sat down on the chair near Theo’s bed, fiddling with your fingers. “How’re you feeling?” you asked softly, assessing him over a million times.

He could see the stress and nervousness in your eyes, and tried to reach out his arm towards you. Unfortunately he had forgotten which arm was broken and groaned at the sudden pain, immediately retracting it back. That only heightened your stress, about to say something before he spoke first. “Hurts just a tad bit. Nothing Pomfrey can’t fix. Plus, I have my favorite infermiera with me.” he tried to joke playfully, but you could clearly see the pain etched in his face.

“Well don’t you ever fall off a broom again, because you’ll stress this in-fare-me-era out!” you huffed, struggling slightly on the nickname Theo gave you. You crossed your arms as he let out a low laugh, his eyes on yours.

“Glad to know you care about me that much.” Theo teased, a sort of dopey smile on his face. You could feel heat rising through your body, narrowing your eyes at him. You tried to play nonchalant, but it obviously wasn’t working.

“Well, I happen to care about everybody who comes into the hospital wing.” you countered, picking at your sleeves. You weren’t letting him know you really did care about him in more than a friendly way. Not now, at least.

“Sure you do. But I just happen to be your favorite.” he spoke proudly, that stupid smile never leaving his face. You couldn’t help but smile at it, rolling your eyes once again.

“Right. I’ll let you think that because you're in a great state of pain right now.” You adjusted yourself in your seat, uncrossing your arms. “But I do prefer you visiting me when you’re faking an illness or injury, not when you’re actually injured.”

His smile softened, something leaping in his chest at your words. “Noted. I’ll make sure not to get hurt ever again.” he teased playfully, a small silence settling between you two.

It was as if you two were the only ones in the world, Theo’s pain fading away as he looked at you. He swore he could see something more than friendly in your gaze; an unexpected burst of confidence shot through him. “Hey,” he called out your name softly, bringing you back to reality.

“Hm?” you hummed, your eyes never leaving his. Your heart fluttered at his soft gaze on you, anticipating something you hoped he would do.

“How would you like to—,” he started, but was abruptly cut off by Madam Pomfrey calling your name. In your little daze, you didn’t notice another student had come into the hospital wing. You looked around, your eyes landing on a boy being ushered into a bed.

You widened your eyes, promptly getting up. “I’m sorry, Theo! I’ll be right back!” you promised, sending a strained smile his way. Before he could respond you were already off, leaving him all alone on his bed. He frowned, watching your retreating figure. Of course the first time he had grown the balls to ask you out, the universe had decided it was the perfect time for you to be away from him.

And to make matters worse, you didn’t return to him that night. Probably because he fell asleep the moment you left him.

Theo stayed in the hospital wing for two more days, mostly because Madam Pomfrey wanted to make sure everything was okay. You were busy with studying and homework, the looming pressure of exams coming up. Every day Theo was stuck in his bed he hoped you arrived, hoped that you would seek him out like he did you. 

It was silly, he thought, to have done all this hopeful wishing and thinking. He felt pathetic, something he’s never felt before. He didn’t know if you thought of them as friends—maybe you thought of him as the annoying boy who came in every day you were there. How he wished it wasn’t that.

The last night he was there Madam Pomfrey told him he had a visitor, all with a knowing smile on her face. Theo didn’t pick up on it, assuming it was either Mattheo or Lorenzo. They had probably snuck dessert for him. He surely wasn’t expecting you.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, a nervous smile on your face as you walked into his area. You had no idea what possessed you to come down here—you were supposed to be studying.

He looked up quickly at the sound of your voice, a bright smile forming on his face. He adjusted himself into a sitting position, his eyes locked on yours. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show.” he murmured, watching as you approached him.

“Of course I would. I even got you a little something.” You handed him a little box wrapped with a bow, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watched him nervously. You couldn’t sit down, too anxious about his response.

He seemed shocked at the gift, his eyes softening a fraction. He noticed your nervous habit, immediately opening the box to alleviate your mind. Inside the box was a Pepperup potion, Murtlap Essence in a bottle, an Essence of Dittany, and some bandages of all sizes. He laughed at the contents of the gift, looking up at you with a smile. “Is this you saying you want me to stop coming to bother you?” he teased.

You widened your eyes, shaking your head frantically and starting to ramble. “Oh, no! Just a little something in case I’m not in the hospital one day. You don’t bother me, in fact you—,”

“Relax, dolcezza,” Theo spoke gently, reaching his hand out to hold yours. You paused at his touch, freezing in your spot. He noticed it, a small smirk forming on his face as he pulled you closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “It’s good. I’ll make good use out of it.” he reassured you, noticing how your breathing became uneven.

For a moment you just stared at him, until you blinked away from him. You threw a smile on your face, wrapping your fingers with his. “Good,” you murmured, sitting down in the chair next to his, holding his hand. “I don’t want to scare you off or anything.” you confessed, looking down at your intertwined hands.

Theo smiled softly, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You could never. Plus, I’m taking you to Hogsmeade next Saturday, aren’t I?” he more so told you than asked, his smile widening at the shocked expression on your face. The courage came out of nowhere, both you and him not expecting the words to come out of his mouth.

“I—,” you stuttered, obviously caught off guard by his words. You shifted in your seat, making eye contact to make sure he wasn’t joking. “Are you asking me out, Theodore Nott?” you asked him skeptically, finding it so foreign that the boy who never took girls out was asking you out.

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes I am, and I can only hope my favorite infermiera will say yes to me.” he spoke softly, his hand squeezing yours. Despite his confident demeanor, he was actually terrified of you rejecting him. He would leave Hogwarts and never show his face again to you and the rest of the students just to hide from the embarrassment.

You sat there for a moment, just watching him, double checking that he wasn’t playing a prank on you. Finally, after his smile started fading away and a nervous expression rose on his face, you had answered. “I would love to go on a date with you next Saturday.” you grinned, bringing your chair closer to his bed.

He mirrored your grin, and for once he had let his guard down. He brought your hand to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. “A date it is. Tell Pomfrey you’re unavailable on Saturday. You’re only going to be with me.”

At that you snorted, rolling your eyes. You did tell Madam Pomfrey that you were unavailable on Saturday once you were on your way out, and she only gave you a small nod with a knowing smile.

[lushleona]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 4th. theodore nott — kiss it better.

theodore nott x fem reader

summary ; theo’s not above a little suffering if it means you’ll kiss it better. bruises fade, but your lips on his? worth every second of pain. word count ; 2.6k warnings ; fluff, kissing, mentions of blood

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Theodore never quite knew what to do with the attention you gave him.

There you were, sitting across from him in the library, your hair falling forward as you scribbled down notes, lost in thought. He should’ve been focused on his own work, on the potions essay that was due tomorrow, but he couldn’t help himself. His gaze kept drifting back to you. Every time your quill scratched the parchment or your lips pressed together in concentration, his chest tightened. You had a way of drawing him in, pulling him closer with every small, unconscious movement.

It wasn’t like he’d never noticed you before. You had always been part of the group, hovering on the edges of conversations, offering sharp comments when the boys got too ridiculous, but you never quite entered Theo’s orbit like this. Now, though? Now, he was starting to realize that he’d been wrong to overlook you. You were too… soft. Too gentle in a world that had taught him to be hard, distant. It made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling.

Then it happened—something so small, so insignificant that it shouldn’t have left a mark on him, but it did.

A paper cut.

He didn’t even flinch as the thin slice formed on his finger while rifling through his notes. Theo muttered a low curse under his breath, instinctively moving to press his thumb against it, but before he could do anything, you noticed.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice warm, as though you had known him for ages. 

Theo blinked, unsure why you were even asking. “Just a paper cut.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you set your quill down and leaned forward. “Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

For a split second, he thought you were joking. He stared at you, unsure how to respond. That wasn’t the kind of offer people made to him. Kisses didn’t fix anything—not the way his childhood had been, not the way life worked now. But the way you looked at him, playful yet sincere, made something stir in his chest.

“That works?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 You laughed lightly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Sure it does. My mom used to do it for me when I was little. Worked like a charm.”

The mention of your mom caught him off guard. His own memories of his mother were hazy, distant, like an old photograph left out in the sun for too long. He couldn’t remember if she had ever kissed his cuts, couldn’t remember if anyone had ever cared for him like that. Affection had always been scarce in the Nott household. His mother had been gone for a long time, and the little acts of tenderness you described had died with her.

You stood and walked around the table. He didn’t know why he didn’t stop you, didn’t say something sarcastic or brush it off. 

“It’s no big deal,” he muttered, trying to pull his hand away, but you held it gently, your fingers warm against his.

“Let me see,” you said softly, and he couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He held his breath as you leaned down, your lips brushing over his finger in the softest kiss. The contact was fleeting, a whisper of warmth, but it sent his mind reeling. He didn’t understand why something so simple, so childlike, could make him feel… different.

“There,” you said, your voice light as you pulled back. “All better.”

He could only stare at you, his throat suddenly tight. “Yeah… thanks.”

You smiled, returning to your seat like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t just unknowingly changed something in him. Theo’s gaze lingered on you, the phantom of your lips still tingling on his skin. He didn’t know how to process it. No one had ever looked at him that way, treated him that way. 

But he knew one thing for sure—he wanted to feel that again.

The next day, Theo’s mind was still replaying that moment, over and over. It had awakened something inside him, something that ached for more, and before he knew it, he found himself searching for a way to feel it again. This time, though, he didn’t want a kiss on the hand. He wanted more.

Theo found Draco leaning against one of the stone walls outside. He approached him with a strange sort of determination, one that was equal parts reckless and desperate. Draco raised an eyebrow when he saw Theo approaching.

“Need something, Nott?” Draco drawled, clearly amused by the look on Theo’s face.

Theo didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Punch me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Draco blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“I need you to punch me,” Theo repeated, his voice steady despite the absurdity of the request.

“Alright, gladly, but why?”

Theo swallowed, his throat dry. He knew it was ridiculous, that this whole plan was absurd, but he needed this to happen. He needed you to kiss him again, to care again. "Just... trust me. I need a bruise, a cut, something that’ll make her—” He cut himself off, his face heating up.

Draco’s smirk only widened, a glint of realization flashing in his eyes. “Ah. Her.” He stood up straighter, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re finally doing something about it. You want me to punch you so she’ll fuss over you. Clever.”

“Just do it, will you?” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

Draco shrugged, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “If you insist.” Without further warning, Draco’s fist came flying toward Theo’s face. He didn’t hold back either—Theo barely had time to register the motion before pain exploded in his mouth. 

He stumbled backward, his hand flying to his lip. Blood welled up immediately, the sharp sting spreading across his jaw.

“Merlin’s beard,” Theo muttered, his vision momentarily swimming. “I said punch me, not break my damn face.”

Draco stepped back, grinning like he had just done Theo the biggest favor in the world. “There. You’re welcome.”

Theo wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, already thinking about what would come next. He didn’t care about the pain. He didn’t care about anything except the idea of you seeing him like this—hurt, vulnerable—and caring for him again.

He found you in the common room later that day, sitting in your usual spot near the fireplace. You didn’t see him at first—too absorbed in the book you were reading, a small frown of concentration on your face. 

Theo hesitated for a second, suddenly feeling nervous. What if this was a mistake? What if you didn’t react the way he hoped?

But then you looked up, and your eyes immediately widened in shock as you took in the sight of him—blood smeared on his lip, a fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

“Theo!” you gasped, your book forgotten as you rushed over to him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He tried to shrug it off, leaning casually against the arm of the couch, though the pain in his mouth made it hard to play it cool. “Got into a fight. No big deal.”

You didn’t look convinced. Your fingers hovered near his face, concern etched into your features. “Does it hurt?”

Theo could feel his heart pounding, his mouth dry as the moment he’d been waiting for arrived. His voice was lower than he intended as he muttered, “A little… are you… are you not gonna kiss it better?”

Your expression softened, that same playful smile from the day before returning. “Again, huh?” 

You leaned in, your eyes flicking to his lips, and Theo’s pulse quickened. When your lips brushed his, it was soft, cautious, but this time there was something more to it—something that made the ache in his lip completely disappear.

And just like that, Theo knew he was done for.

Your lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and it was enough to set Theo’s blood humming. The softness of your touch felt like a balm, not just for the bruise but for something deeper—something buried in the recesses of his mind that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

When you pulled back, your gaze met his, a flicker of something unreadable crossing your face. Concern? Amusement? Theo couldn’t tell. But what he did know was that he didn’t want that moment to end. Not yet.

"You really need to stop getting into fights," you murmured, shaking your head with a small, exasperated smile. "What were you even thinking?"

Theo almost laughed at the irony. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth—that the whole thing had been orchestrated just for this. Just for the briefest chance to feel your lips on his. 

Instead, he shrugged, playing it off. "You know how it is. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t mix well."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a softness behind it, something that made Theo’s chest tighten in that unfamiliar way again. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself hurt for real, and then I won’t be able to kiss it better.”

That sent a jolt of warmth through him, stronger than the pain in his lip. He let the silence stretch between you for a moment, watching as you shifted nervously under his gaze.

"Maybe," he said slowly, his voice low, "I just like the way you kiss me."

Your eyes widened slightly at that, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks. Theo smirked inwardly, relishing the way his words seemed to fluster you. You always had a quick response for everything, but now you were quiet, your lips parting as though you weren’t sure what to say.

“I—” you started, your voice trailing off as you looked down at your hands.

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to grab your wrist and pull you back in, to kiss you again but for real this time—not as some excuse to soothe a bruise or a cut.

Before you could speak, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Well, look at you two,” Draco drawled as he strolled into the common room, clearly interrupting something he knew full well was important. “What did I say, Nott? You’re welcome, by the way.”

Theo shot Draco a glare, a deep scowl crossing his face. Of course he had to show up now, just when things were starting to move in the direction he wanted.

You, however, looked between them, confusion evident on your face. “What’s he talking about?”

Before Theo could respond, Draco answered for him, leaning casually against the wall with that insufferable grin. “Oh, nothing. Just that Nott here got himself punched on purpose. Quite the romantic, isn’t he?”

Theo’s heart dropped. He glared at Draco, fury bubbling up in his chest. “Shut it, Malfoy.”

But it was too late. You were already staring at Theo, your eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait… what?”

Theo tried to backtrack, scrambling for some sort of excuse, but he wasn’t fast enough. You took a step back, your brows furrowed in confusion as realization slowly dawned on you.

"You… you let someone punch you just so I’d…?"

The color drained from Theo’s face as he saw the pieces falling into place in your mind.

“I—” he began, his voice unsteady, “It’s not like that.”

You crossed your arms, staring at him like you were trying to decide whether to be angry, amused, or something in between. “Theo, what the hell were you thinking?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted—” He cut himself off again, feeling ridiculous. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

But you were still looking at him, waiting for an answer, and the weight of your gaze was too much to bear.

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Theo muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, the confusion giving way to something else—something gentler. You uncrossed your arms and took a step closer, your eyes searching his face.

"You could’ve just asked," you said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Theo blinked, thrown off by your reaction. He had expected you to be angry, maybe even laugh and walk away. But there you were, looking at him with something that felt dangerously close to fondness.

“You… wouldn’t have laughed at me?” he asked, his voice rough with uncertainty.

You shook your head, your smile growing. “No, Theo. I wouldn’t have laughed.”

Theo didn’t know what to say to that. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at you, the words dying in his throat. He felt foolish, standing in front of you like this, bruised and vulnerable, all because he didn’t know how to ask for something he wanted so badly.

But then you reached out, your hand gently brushing against his bruised lip again, and all the embarrassment, all the uncertainty melted away.

“If you wanted me to kiss you,” you murmured, stepping even closer, “all you had to do was say so.”

When your lips finally met his, it wasn’t like before. This wasn’t a kiss to make anything better. This was a kiss because you both wanted it.

Theo’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You responded instantly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him, and Theo felt like he was drowning, lost in the feel of you, in the way you kissed him like you’d been waiting for this as long as he had.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. “Yeah, I still don’t regret anything,” he muttered.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again. “Next time, just ask, Theo. No more getting hurt.”

Theo nodded, his heart still racing as he held you close, a grin tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind

© lushleona 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[parseltonguekisses]

Mr. "I don't fall in love" Nott, realizing he's already fallen, pure fluff and the other boys making fun

The Slytherin common room breathed like a living thing: low emerald light pulsing from the lake windows, the fire hissing soft secrets into the hush, the faint mineral scent of deep water seeping through stone. Theo Nott had claimed the velvet wingback hours ago, boots kicked off, socks mismatched—one black, one dark green with tiny silver snakes he’d never admit to owning. The book in his lap, Defensive Magical Theory that he was supposed to be revising lay open to the same diagram of a Protego variant he’d memorized in fourth year. Useless. Every nerve ending was tuned to the pretty girl asleep on him instead.

You were a compact tangle of limbs and warmth, knees drawn up, one socked foot hooked over his ankle like you’d staked territory. Your hair smelled of cedarwood soap and the vanilla ink you used for notes; every time you exhaled, the strands fluttered against his collarbone and his heartbeat tripped like a drunk on stairs. Theo’s palm had found the warm crescent of skin between your hoodie and joggers twenty minutes ago and hadn’t left. Slow, reverent circles—thumb tracing the faint dimple at the base of your spine, middle finger brushing the soft rise just above your hip. Each pass felt like signing his name in a language he’d sworn he’d never learn.

He was not in love. He’d said it out loud to Draco last week, voice bored, cigarette dangling: “Love’s a liability. I don’t do liabilities.” Draco had laughed so hard he’d nearly fallen off the astronomy tower railing. Theo had meant it then. He was ninety percent sure he’d meant it.

Then you’d sighed—a tiny, kittenish sound—and burrowed closer, nose nudging the hollow beneath his jaw. Ninety percent plummeted to seventy-five. Your fingers, slack in sleep, uncurled against his chest, pinky brushing the silver chain he wore under his shirt. Sixty percent. He was free-falling and the ground was made of your eyelashes.

The portrait hole scraped open with the subtlety of a troll in tap shoes. Blaise stumbled in first, tie askew, cheeks flushed from whatever fruity drink he'd decided to drink. Draco followed, hair artfully mussed, smirking like he always is with his pureblood arrogance. Mattheo brought up the rear, one shoe untied, humming an off-key Celestina Warbeck chorus.

They froze in a perfect comedic tableau.

Blaise’s mouth opened, closed. Draco’s eyebrow performed an Olympic vault. Mattheo actually dropped his cloak.

Theo didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your weight pinned him more thoroughly than any binding spell. He settled for a glare sharp enough to slice bread. “You’re drunk.” As if that would make the trio believe they were having hallucinations, unfortunately, he was not so lucky.

“Observant,” Draco drawled, but his eyes were laughing. “We texted you six times, Nott. Thought you’d been kidnapped by merpeople. Turns out you were kidnapped by—” he gestured vaguely at your sleeping form—“cozy domesticity.”

Mattheo flopped onto the rug, propping his chin in his hands like a gossip columnist, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and eyes red from something he probably shouldn't have had. “Look at him. The Ice Prince melteth. I give it three minutes before he starts braiding her hair.”

Theo’s fingers twitched toward his wand, then thought better of it. You’d hate the noise. Instead he tucked the blanket higher around your shoulders, the motion so tender it should’ve come with a warning label. “Shut up,” he said, but there was no venom in it. The words came out soft, almost fond. Fifty percent.

Blaise circled like a shark scenting blood. “Remember when you said—and I quote—‘I don’t do commitment, I have more important goals’?” He produced a crumpled receipt from the Three Broomsticks, waving it like evidence. “Goal tonight was butterbeer and that Ravenclaw with the long legs. Instead you’re here playing weighted blanket.”

Your next breath hitched, a sleepy whimper that arrowed straight through Theo’s ribs. You turned your face into his neck, lips brushing the pulse that was suddenly sprinting. Forty percent. Thirty. He was a house of cards in a windstorm.

Draco dropped into the opposite chair, stretching long legs toward the fire. “He’s counting her freckles,” he announced to the ceiling. “I can see it. Left cheek—three. Nose—two. There’s one shaped like a wonky star he’s mentally named after himself.”

“Fuck. Off.” Theo hissed, but his voice cracked on the second word because you’d just made that sound again—half sigh, half murmur—and your hand had slid under his sweater, palm flat over his heart like you were checking it still worked. It did. Barely.

Mattheo rolled onto his back, laughing silently, shoulders shaking. “Mate, you’re gone. Stick a fork in him.”

Theo looked down at you: lashes casting shadows on cheeks flushed from the fire, lower lip caught between your teeth in dreams. The blanket had slipped again from your movements; he fixed it without thinking, tucking it under your chin the way his mum used to do when he was small. The memory hit like a Bludger—he hadn’t thought of that in years. Twenty percent.

Blaise sighed, theatrical. “Fine. We’ll leave you to your not-girlfriend and your totally platonic cuddling. But tomorrow, Nott, you’re buying rounds. Emotional damage fee.”

They shuffled out, still snickering. Heads close together so they could whisper about this occurrence the whole way to their dorms, leaving Theo to wonder how bad it could really be to run away. Silence rushed back in, thick and velvet, your vanilla scent letting reason back into his brain. If he ran away, then what about you?

Fuck.

Theo exhaled shakily. His hand resumed its slow worship along your spine. You shifted again, knee sliding between his, fitting against him like you’d been carved for the space. Zero percent. He was in free fall now, no broom, no net.

He pressed his lips to your temple, lingering, breathing you in. “You’re ruining me,” he whispered to the sleeping girl who owned every shard of his carefully constructed indifference. “And I’m going to let you.”

The fire popped. Outside the window, a shadow of a giant squid drifted past, slow and unconcerned. Theo closed his eyes, counted your heartbeats against his own, and didn’t move until dawn painted the lake gold.