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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡Out of sight, but on your mind♡ˎˊ˗
Celeste🫧 25. Spicy Pisces. INTJ-T. Tate McRae enthusiast. Ravenclaw. Daughter of Athena.
My super secret side blog for all my favorite fics 𐙚
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Wish You Were Sober
Pairing - Adrian Pucey x Malfoy! Reader
Summary - After the swiftest and smuggest victory in Hogwarts quidditch history, the Slytherins held their usual party. Blared music, flowing drinks, the works. The sweetest words come out when alcohol goes in; but are they ever true?
Warnings - Consumption of alcohol and weed, mentions of sex, vomiting, emetophobia, drunken behaviour, crying, pain relief. Inebriated angst with the happiest of happy endings, since I cannot write sad ones.
WC: 3.2K
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 — 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞
SUMMARY: In a world falling apart, you were the only thing that ever made sense to Mattheo Riddle. So when he almost loses you— he breaks in a way no one has ever seen before.
A/N: Mentions of sex, lot of grief, what else do I say, takes place during the war
The library was quiet that afternoon, the kind of heavy silence that only existed between towering shelves and the faint scratch of quills in the distance. Mattheo Riddle moved through the Restricted Section’s outer edges with his usual careless grace, hands shoved in his pockets, searching for the tome on ancient runes that Theo had demanded he borrow.
“Fucking Theo and his obscure shit,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the spines.
His fingers closed around the leather-bound volume. He tugged.
From the opposite side of the shelf, the book jerked hard in the other direction.
Mattheo frowned, tugging harder.
It resisted again — this time with surprising force, as if someone on the other side had grabbed it with both hands.
With one final, irritated yank, the book came free toward him — only for it to be snatched completely from his grip at the last second.
Mattheo rounded the shelf in three long strides, irritation flashing in his dark eyes.
There you stood — smaller than he expected, robes neat, holding the book against your chest like a prize. Your expression was calm but unmistakably smug.
“Problem?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Mattheo’s gaze narrowed. “That’s my book.”
“Funny,” you replied smoothly, “it was in my hands first. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Riddle.”
He stepped closer, towering over you, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with sharp intelligence that caught him off guard.
“You’re brave,” he said, voice low and edged with curiosity. “Or at least brave enough that you don’t know better than to steal from a Slytherin.”
“I’m a Gryffindor, and I'm not stealing. I’m borrowing. For actual academic purposes, not whatever dark arts project you have planned.”
Mattheo’s lips twitched — almost a smile, but not quite.
“Bold. Most people would’ve handed it over by now.”
“Most people aren’t trying to finish an essay on advanced warding runes before curfew,” you countered. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you look at it after I’m done.”
He laughed — a short, surprised sound.
“You’ve got nerve.”
“And you’ve got a reputation,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with challenge. “But I’ve read enough to know reputations are usually exaggerated.”
You turned to leave, book tucked securely under your arm. Over your shoulder, you delivered the final line with perfect, sweet venom:
“Besides, you’re much prettier when you’re not scowling. Shame it doesn’t happen often.”
Mattheo stood frozen as you disappeared down the aisle. It took him a full ten seconds to realize the compliment had been an insult wrapped in silk.
By the time the realization hit, you were long gone.
He stared at the empty space where you’d been, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face.
“Interesting,” he murmured to himself.
From that day on, Mattheo Riddle made it his mission to pursue you.
He started small — witty remarks when your paths crossed in the corridors.
“Still hoarding books that don’t belong to you?” he’d murmur as he passed, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
You’d fire back without missing a beat: “Still letting your friends do your homework for you?”
During Quidditch matches, when Slytherin played, he’d catch your eye from his broom while chasing the Quaffle. He’d wink — bold and unapologetic — right before executing a sharp dive that left the crowd roaring.
You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped every time.
In the Great Hall, he’d sit across from his friends but let his gaze drift to the Gryffindor table where you were seated, sometimes sending a paper airplane charmed with a single sarcastic line:
“Enjoying that book you stole?”
You never backed down.
You matched his sharp tongue with your own clever retorts, never raising your voice, never stuttering. You were quiet by nature in large groups, but one-on-one with him? You became lightning.
Weeks turned into months.
Mattheo found himself seeking you out more and more. He’d “accidentally” end up in the same library corner, or join you on the Astronomy Tower when you went there to study stars instead of smoke.
Slowly, you began to see past the rumors.
He wasn’t the heartless villain everyone painted. He was sharp and guarded, yes — carrying the weight of his father’s name like a curse — but there were moments when he let the mask slip.
When he spoke about wanting something real, something that wasn’t tainted by legacy.
When he listened to you talk about your favorite books or your dreams beyond Hogwarts without interrupting with a joke.
One rainy evening in the library, after hours of quiet studying side by side, he finally asked the question that had been burning in him.
“Why don’t you run from me like everyone else does?”
You looked up from your notes, meeting his eyes steadily.
“Because I see you, Mattheo. Not the name. Not the rumors. Just you.”
That was the night he kissed you for the first time — slow, intense, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he rushed it.
You kissed him back, fingers curling into his robes, and something shifted between you irrevocably.
During the winter holidays of seventh year, you invited him to celebrate your eighteenth birthday at your family home in London.
Your parents welcomed Mattheo warmly despite knowing exactly who he was.
At first, he felt like an intruder, tense and overly polite, convinced he might be a burden. But your mother especially took to him immediately, treating him like her own son — fussing over him at dinner, laughing at his dry humor, and pulling him into conversations about everything from Quidditch to showing him your childhood pictures.
Your father was quieter but kind, clapping him on the shoulder and telling him he was always welcome.
That night, after the cake and laughter and your parents had gone to bed, Mattheo pulled you into your room.
The kiss that started soft quickly deepened with months of built-up longing. His hands roamed slowly over your body, learning every curve as if memorizing you. He was gentle yet confident, undressing you with reverent touches while whispering how beautiful you looked, how long he had wanted this.
You felt desired and safe in his arms as he took his time, moving with a mix of hunger and tenderness that made your heart race and your breath catch. He made sure you felt every bit of his attention, every kiss and touch building until pleasure washed over you in waves.
Afterward, he got up quietly to bring you water and a warm cloth, he held you close against his chest, tracing lazy patterns on your bare back with his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your shoulders, and your lips, then pulled the blankets over both of you, wrapping you securely in his arms as if he never wanted to let go.
You fell asleep tangled together, his heartbeat steady under your cheek.
The war changed everything.
Seventh year brought darkness. Death Eaters roamed freely. Attacks on innocents became nightly news. Fear hung over Hogwarts like a shroud.
You and Mattheo stole moments where you could — whispered conversations in empty classrooms, his arms around you in hidden alcoves, promises that you’d survive this together.
The Battle of Hogwarts erupted without warning.
Explosions rocked the castle. Curses lit up the night sky. Students and teachers fought side by side with the Order of the Phoenix against the invading Death Eaters.
Mattheo moved through the chaos in a frenzy, heart pounding, wand raised. He wasn’t fighting for his father’s side — he was fighting to find you. To protect you. To get you out.
“Where is she?!” he demanded to no one in particular, blasting a curse at a masked Death Eater who had his wand pointed at some First year.
He rounded a corner near the Charms corridor and froze.
You were backed against a crumbling stone wall, robes torn, breathing hard.
Antonin Dolohov advanced on you, his wand raised, a cruel smile twisting his face.
You were holding your own — blocking curse after curse with impressive shields — but you were tiring, cornered.
Dolohov shouted the words with vicious delight:
“Avada Kedavra!”
Time slowed.
Mattheo’s world went blank with pure terror.
At the exact same moment, he lifted his wand and screamed,
“Stupefy!”
— aiming it directly at you, praying the red jet would hit first, knock you unconscious, make you drop before the green curse could reach you.
Everything happened too fast.
Your body jerked, as one of the two spells hit you. You crumpled to the ground instantly, eyes closing, limp.
Dolohov smiled with crooked teeth and turned to attack a group of fleeing students instead, disappearing into the smoke and dust.
Mattheo couldn’t breathe.
His legs felt like lead as he stumbled forward, one slow, weary step after another. The world tilted. His vision blurred at the edges.
Pansy and Daphne skidded around the corner first, closer than he was.
Pansy let out a choked sob the moment she saw your still form on the ground.
“No… no, no, no—”
Pansy dropped to her knees beside you, hands shaking as she reached for you. Tears streamed down her face immediately.
“Wake up! Please wake up!”
Daphne’s face was pale, eyes wide with horror as she knelt too, gripping Pansy’s shoulder.
The boys arrived moments later — Blaise, Enzo, Theo, and Draco — all of them skidding to a halt. Their expressions turned hollow, the usual sharp wit and arrogance drained away in an instant.
Theo spotted Mattheo first, stumbling toward the scene like a ghost. He moved quickly, trying to intercept him.
“Mattheo— wait—”
Mattheo shoved past him, dropping hard to his knees beside your body.
Pansy, sobbing openly now, gently let you go so Mattheo could pull you into his arms.
He cradled you against his chest, one hand supporting your head, the other pressed desperately to your back as if he could will your heart to beat stronger.
“No… come on, love,” he whispered, voice cracking for the first time anyone had ever heard.
“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare leave me here.”
Tears — real, hot tears — spilled down his face as he rocked you gently, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve found you sooner. I should’ve kept you safe. Please… come back. I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I can't live in a world where you don't exist.”
His shoulders shook with silent, gut-wrenching sobs.
The boy who never cried broke completely in the ruins of the corridor.
“You were supposed to outsmart all of us. You were supposed to keep matching my stupid banter. Wake up and call me an idiot again. Please.”
Pansy turned into Daphne’s arms, crying harder as Daphne held her tight, tears silently tracking down her own cheeks.
The boys stood in a loose circle, faces pale and devastated. Enzo looked away, jaw clenched. Blaise’s usual composure shattered as he stared at the ground. Draco’s hands trembled at his sides. Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder but said nothing — there were no words.
Outside the castle, the final confrontation unfolded. Voldemort emerged from the Forbidden Forest with his followers, Hagrid walking brokenly behind him, carrying what everyone believed was Harry Potter’s lifeless body. The defenders of Hogwarts — students, teachers, Order members — stood gathered on the grounds, faces etched with grief and exhaustion as Voldemort’s voice rang out, announcing Harry’s death and demanding surrender.
Inside the ruined castle corridor, the Slytherins stayed clustered around Mattheo as he continued to break, whispering broken apologies into your hair, begging you to come back.
Then — outside — Harry fell from Hagrid’s arms.
Gasps and shouts erupted as the Boy Who Lived rose, alive. The duel between Harry and Voldemort ignited. Wands connected in a burst of light. Harry shouted “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort screamed the Killing Curse. After minutes of tense silence, the Elder Wand flew from Voldemort’s hand. The Dark Lord fell — dead.
In the sudden, stunned silence that followed, something miraculous happened inside the castle.
Your finger twitched.
Enzo noticed first. His eyes widened. “Mattheo…”
Mattheo didn’t hear him at first, still lost in grief.
Then your eyelids fluttered.
You gasped sharply, bolting upright as though breaking free from ice, chest heaving as air rushed back into your lungs.
The entire group froze in shock.
Mattheo’s head snapped up. His tear-streaked face went blank with disbelief, then flooded with raw, overwhelming relief.
You blinked, disoriented, looking around at the devastated corridor and the circle of devastated faces staring at you.
Your hand lifted weakly to Mattheo’s wet cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.
“Hey… why are you crying?” you whispered, voice hoarse but steady.
Mattheo let out a broken sound — half sob, half laugh — and crushed you against his chest, arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost painful. His hands shook violently as he held you, heart racing so hard you could feel it against your own.
“I thought I lost you,” he rasped into your hair, voice thick with emotion. “I thought the Killing Curse hit you. I Stupefied you — I had to — to save you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
You hugged him back just as fiercely, understanding flooding through the confusion.
“You saved me,” you murmured. “You always do.”
The rest watched in stunned silence as the two of you clung to each other amid the ruins — Pansy crying tears of relief now, Daphne smiling through her own tears, the boys exhaling shaky breaths as the weight of grief lifted.
Around you, cheers were rising as news of Voldemort’s defeat spread.
But inside, in that broken corridor, the real victory was this: you were alive, breathing, and back in Mattheo’s arms.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes searching your face like he was memorizing every detail.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said, voice rough but laced with that familiar sharp affection.
You smiled weakly, brushing his hair back.
“I won't. Only as long as you're by my side.”
Mattheo laughed — a real, watery laugh — and kissed you fiercely, pouring every ounce of fear, love, and relief into it.
Around you, students and teachers began to flood in, gathering lost loved ones, friends reuniting, laughter and the sounds of crying all around.
The war was over. The darkness had lifted.
And in the middle of the ruins, the boy who was supposed to be a villain held the girl who had stolen his heart — and his book — and finally let himself believe in a future worth fighting for.
This is probably the longest thing I've written till now, I still wish I wrote a bit more.
Ugh this is so perfect in every way😫
𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭
SUMMARY: Theodore Nott thought surviving Dueling Club would be the hardest part of his week. Turns out, surviving his angry girlfriend was significantly worse.
Based off of this request. @red--roses hope you like it<3
You were furious.
It wasn’t the fact that Theodore had gotten hurt in Dueling Club. It was the fact that you had to hear it from Lavender Brown — three days later — that he’d taken a nasty curse to the ribs and had been walking around like nothing happened.
So when he finally found you in your room that evening, you didn’t even let him speak first.
“You got hurt,” you said flatly, arms crossed. “And you didn’t tell me.”
Theo sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “It wasn’t serious. I handled it.”
“That’s not the point, Theodore.” You used his full name like a weapon.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’m your girlfriend. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. You don’t get to keep me in the dark ‘for my own good.’”
“I was protecting you,” he said quietly, jaw tight. “You already worry enough.”
“I’m not a child,” you snapped. “If you can’t trust me with the truth, then what are we even doing?”
The argument ended in a tense stalemate. Theo tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and left him standing there.
And that’s when you decided on petty terrorism.
The next evening, the entire friend group was gathered in the Slytherin common room for a casual dinner.
You sat right next to Theo like nothing was wrong — except everything was wrong, and you were making sure he felt it.
You picked up a piece of spaghetti with your fork, looked him dead in the eyes, and cut it cleanly in half.
Mattheo choked on his drink.
Theo’s eyes flicked to the broken pasta, then back to your face. He said nothing.
Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. Daphne pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.
Later, when Theo reached for the salt, you moved it just out of his reach.
When he gave you a look, you smiled sweetly.
“Communication is so important in relationships, don’t you think, Pansy?” you asked.
Pansy nearly lost it. “Oh my god.”
Enzo was grinning like an idiot. Blaise leaned back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. Even Draco looked amused.
Theo's jaw ticked. You weren't done.
When Mattheo asked Theo something about Quidditch practice, you turned to Mattheo with an innocent expression.
“Do you actually listen when people talk to you, Mattheo? Or do you also decide what people can and can’t handle?”
Mattheo laughed, raising his hands slightly. “I’m not getting involved in this.”
Theo finally spoke, voice low.
“Can we talk?”
You blinked at him, feigning innocence. “About what, Theodore?”
Blaise muttered under his breath, “She’s evil. I respect it.”
Later that night, you “accidentally” moved Theo’s bookmark three chapters forward in the book he was reading.
When he noticed, he gave you a long, tired look.
You just smiled and went back to your own book.
The group was losing their minds in the background.
“Ten galleons says she wins,” Enzo whispered.
“I’m not betting against her,” Pansy replied. “She’s unhinged right now.”
Theo eventually cornered you near the fireplace when most people had gone to bed.
He looked exhausted.
“Are you done?” he asked.
You crossed your arms. “Are you going to stop hiding things from me?”
He stepped closer, voice softening.
“I thought I was protecting you. I hate worrying you. I hate seeing you scared because of me.”
“I’m more scared when I find out from other people that you’re hurt,” you said, voice cracking just a little. “I’m your girlfriend, Theo. Let me be there for you. Even when it’s ugly.”
Theo stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll tell you next time. Even if it’s stupid and small.”
You hugged him back, tension finally draining from your shoulders.
“…You’re still Theodore for the rest of the week though,” you mumbled against his chest.
He let out a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through him.
“Fair enough.”
You smiled into his sweater.
Because no matter what, he was still your Theodore.
I've finally gotten enough motivation to go through my drafts and publish them lol.
Astra girl you totally under sold this, this is gold🤭
𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭 Part 6 — 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝑒 𝐹𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹
SUMMARY: Christmas break leaves Hogwarts quieter than ever, until Theodore Nott follows you home to Sicily — where soft kisses, warm kitchens, loud family dinners, and moonlit confessions begin to heal parts of him he thought were ruined forever.
A/N: Characters aged up!! 18+ content ahead.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
The castle had grown quieter overnight. Christmas holidays had officially begun the day before, and most students had already left for home.
Draco and Mattheo had gone to Malfoy Manor, Pansy and Daphne had departed for their respective families, and now Enzo and Blaise were standing in the Slytherin common room with their trunks, saying their goodbyes.
“Try not to burn the castle down while we’re gone,” Blaise smirked, pulling you into a quick hug.
Enzo grinned as he clapped Theo on the back.
“And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t leave much.”
You laughed softly, waving as the two boys finally headed toward the carriages.
Once they were gone, the common room felt strangely empty. Only you and Theo remained. He turned to you, sliding his hand into yours. “Come with me.”
You followed him to his dorm. With the others gone, the room was completely silent — just the faint crackle of the fireplace and the sound of your footsteps.
Theo closed the door behind you, then pulled you gently toward him.
For a while, you simply stood there, kissing him. His hands rested on your waist, thumbs brushing under the hem of your sweater. The kiss deepened gradually, growing heavier.
Theo walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of his bed, then lowered you onto it with careful control. He hovered over you, grey-blue eyes dark with want.
Theo’s fingers hooked gently into the waistband of your underwear before he paused, looking up at you through messy brown hair.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, pulling him down by his shirt.
“Yes.”
Clothes came off piece by piece.
Theo took his time, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, until you were squirming beneath him.
When he finally pushed inside you, you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he breathed against your neck.
He started slow, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. But as your moans grew louder, his pace quickened, turning rougher, more desperate.
One hand gripped your thigh, the other braced beside your head.
“Così stretta per me,” (So tight for me.) he groaned, voice low and rough.
You moaned at his words.
He kept going, switching between deep, slow strokes and sharper thrusts that had you crying out his name.
The sound of skin against skin filled the room along with your mixed moans and Italian curses slipping from his lips.
When you came, clenching hard around him, Theo followed shortly after, burying himself deep with a low groan and a few breathy words you barely caught.
Afterward, he didn’t pull away immediately.
He stayed inside you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
Then he gently pulled out, got up, and returned with a warm, damp towel.
He cleaned you up carefully, wiping between your legs with slow, tender strokes, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and thighs the whole time.
“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms once you were both clean.
A few hours later, you were both in bed again.
Theo wore only black shorts, and you were half on top of him, head resting on his bare chest while he played with your hair.
You were talking quietly about nothing important when a loud thud made you both jump.
An owl had slammed against the window.
Theo got up, opened the window, and took the letter.
He scanned it quickly, then let out a slow breath.
“He said yes,” he told you, voice steady but clearly relieved. “I can stay with you for the holidays.”
You smiled brightly and pulled him back into bed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on leaving without you.”
The next day, you took the Hogwarts Express back to London, then apparated with Theo to your family home in Sicily.
Your family lived in a beautiful villa overlooking the sea. As soon as you stepped inside, warmth and the smell of fresh food greeted you.
“Tesoro!” your mother, Giulia, called out, pulling you into a tight hug.
She was elegant, with warm brown eyes and dark hair pinned neatly.
She turned to Theo with a kind smile.
“You must be Theodore. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Theo gave a small, respectful nod.
“Thank you for having me, signora.”
Your nonna, Rosa, appeared next, wiping her hands on her apron.
She took one look at Theo and immediately cupped his face.
“Che bel ragazzo! Handsome!” (What a nice boy!)
Your eight-year-old little sister, Sofia, peeked out from behind your nonna’s skirt, then grinned shyly.
“You’re tall,” she declared.
Theo’s lips twitched.
“And you’re very observant.”
Sofia decided right then that she liked him.
Dinner was an absolute feast — homemade pasta al pomodoro, fresh seafood, eggplant parmigiana, and warm bread with herbs.
Theo ate quietly at first, but you noticed the way his expression softened with every bite. The flavors reminded him so strongly of his mother’s cooking that his eyes grew distant for a moment.
“This is… really good,” he said quietly to your mother. “Thank you.”
Giulia smiled warmly.
“Eat as much as you want. You’re family now.”
The days that followed were peaceful and full.
In the evenings, you played board games together. Sofia constantly tried to cheat and giggled wildly whenever Theo caught her. He pretended to be stern but always let her win in the end.
During the afternoons, the three of you explored Sicily. You took Sofia to the beach, where she dragged Theo into the water and made him build sandcastles with her.
You watched them from the shore, heart swelling as Theo patiently explained to your sister how to make the towers stronger.
One evening, after Sofia had gone to bed, you and Theo sat on the terrace overlooking the sea.
He was unusually quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked, leaning against him.
He stared at the water for a long moment before answering.
“I’ve been watching you with Sofia,” he said softly. “The way you take care of her… It made me think… what it would be like to have that with you someday. A family.”
You turned to look at him, surprised.
Theo rarely spoke about the future.
He continued, voice low.
“I don’t know if I’d be any good at it. But for you… I’d try. I’d try to be better than what I had.”
You cupped his face and kissed him gently.
“You already are better, Theo. You’re nothing like him.”
He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as the Sicilian breeze washed over you both.
For the first time in years, Theodore Nott felt something dangerously close to hope.
This took way longer to post than it should've argh Taglist<3: @ressya @mrsjohnnysuh @janasdaylight @bambi-cloud9 @maradcrs @piayaluvsya @iheartharrypotter @froggiedragon @renchai @awhimsicalrhapsody1612 @ghostsfavknife @noir-moons @superlegend216 @arshiyuh @riri87235 @altnfree @mxryxmfooty
Eeeeeee this is so fluffy and heart warming—I’m in looove
The cat problem
Paring Theodore nott x reader
Summary: Theodore Nott has one problem: his girlfriend's cat absolutely hates him. After weeks of failed peace offerings, public humiliation, and an unexpected kitten rescue, Salem finally decides Theodore is worthy of approval—though life with the mischievous cat is still far from easy.
The first time Salem hissed at Theodore Nott, nobody thought much of it.
Cats hissed. Theodore was a Slytherin. It happened.
The second time, Salem launched himself off a windowsill like a furry missile and smacked Theodore directly in the face.
That got people's attention.
Especially because Salem loved everyone.
Professors.
Students.
Ghosts.
He'd once sat in the lap of a complete stranger from Durmstrang during a school visit.
But Theodore?
Apparently he was public enemy number one.
"You know," Theodore said flatly, pulling black fur off his robes, "I think your cat is possessed."
You looked down at Salem, who was purring loudly in your arms.
"He's literally purring."
"He's purring because he thinks he won."
Salem blinked slowly.
Theodore narrowed his eyes.
Salem narrowed his back.
It felt like a challenge.
—
The rivalry continued.
For weeks.
You'd be sitting with Theodore in the library when Salem would appear from absolutely nowhere.
The cat would jump onto the table.
Walk directly across Theodore's notes.
Sit on Theodore's homework.
And stare.
Just stare.
Theodore would stare back.
Neither moved.
It became so common that students started placing bets.
"Three sickles says the cat wins."
"The cat always wins."
"That's true."
Theodore hated that they were right.
—
One afternoon you arrived at the Great Hall to find Theodore sitting alone.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Theodore never sat alone voluntarily.
Then you noticed the small saucer beside him.
"What is that?"
He looked up.
"Tuna."
"Tuna?"
"Tuna."
You stared.
Theodore stared back.
Then you looked down.
Salem was sitting directly across from him.
Also staring.
The entire table had gone quiet.
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
Theodore slowly pushed the saucer forward.
Salem sniffed it.
The room held its breath.
Then Salem slapped Theodore's hand.
Hard.
The saucer tipped over.
Tuna went everywhere.
The Slytherin table erupted into laughter.
You nearly fell off the bench.
Theodore looked personally offended.
"I bought that."
Salem walked away.
—
The next strategy involved toys.
It failed.
Salem stole the toy.
Then ignored Theodore.
—
The third strategy involved treats.
Salem accepted the treats.
Then hissed anyway.
—
The fourth strategy involved Theodore attempting to have a heartfelt conversation with him.
You found him in an empty classroom.
Talking to a cat.
"You don't even know me."
Salem blinked.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot."
Salem yawned.
"I care about her."
Salem turned around.
And walked away.
Theodore sat there in silence.
"Did I just get rejected by a cat?"
"Yes."
—
The situation became famous around Hogwarts.
Students would stop Theodore in hallways.
"How's the cat?"
"Not speaking to me."
"Any progress?"
"No."
"Thoughts and prayers."
Theodore threatened several people.
It changed nothing.
—
Then winter arrived.
Snow covered the castle grounds.
The air turned sharp and cold.
And one evening, after dinner, you couldn't find Salem anywhere.
Normally that wouldn't be unusual.
But Salem always came back eventually.
This time he didn't.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Then three.
Your stomach twisted.
You searched the common room.
The library.
The courtyards.
Every classroom you could think of.
Nothing.
By midnight you were genuinely worried.
"Theodore."
He immediately looked up from his book.
"What happened?"
"I can't find Salem."
Theodore was already standing before you finished speaking.
—
For the next two hours, both of you searched Hogwarts.
Every corridor.
Every staircase.
Every hidden corner.
Still nothing.
You tried not to panic.
Tried being the important word.
Because Salem had never disappeared this long.
"What if he's hurt?"
"He's fine."
"What if he's not?"
"He is."
"What if—"
"He is."
Theodore's voice was firm.
Certain.
Even if he wasn't completely sure.
—
Eventually they checked outside.
Snow crunched beneath their shoes.
The grounds were almost completely empty.
Wind swept across the lake.
Then Theodore stopped.
"What?"
He pointed.
A small black shape sat beneath a stone bench.
You immediately ran.
"Salem!"
The cat let out a tiny meow.
You dropped to your knees.
Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
Then you noticed something.
Salem wasn't alone.
Curled around him was a tiny gray kitten.
Ridiculously small.
Shivering.
"Oh."
Theodore crouched beside you.
"Oh."
Salem looked incredibly pleased with himself.
As if he'd solved world hunger.
The tiny kitten peeked up at them.
Then sneezed.
—
Back inside the castle, the kitten received food, blankets, and approximately thirty-seven minutes of attention.
Salem supervised.
Naturally.
The tiny kitten refused to leave Theodore's lap.
Which was ironic.
Considering Salem hated him.
Theodore sat perfectly still.
The kitten asleep against his chest.
You smiled.
"You look good with a cat."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Too late."
—
Salem watched from nearby.
Suspiciously.
Theodore noticed.
"Don't start."
Salem blinked.
"You've spent months terrorizing me."
Blink.
"I helped find your child."
Blink.
"You owe me."
Salem stood up.
Walked across the room.
And jumped into Theodore's lap.
The entire room went silent.
Theodore froze.
You froze.
Even the kitten looked surprised.
Salem settled down beside the sleeping kitten.
Curled up.
And began purring.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then—
"Oh my god."
Theodore looked horrified.
"You saw that."
"I saw that."
"He likes me."
"He likes you."
Theodore looked genuinely proud.
Like he'd just won a Quidditch championship.
Salem immediately ruined the moment by stealing one of Theodore's buttons.
But still.
Progress.
At last.
And from that day on, Salem no longer treated Theodore like a sworn enemy.
He treated him like family.
Which, honestly, wasn't much gentler.
That Red Dress
Synopsis: theodore requests you to join him at the annual winter ball for fraternities. as always, theo manages to make you feel basically invisible next to him. on your way to get some air you run into an old (male) friend. jealousy ensues and theo drags you into a random bathroom just to show you how good he makes you feel.
Pairing: frat boy! Theodore Nott x f! reader
Content: 18+ MINORS DNI - reader is wearing a dress, mentions of hair and makeup being done, google translate italian, cursing, suggestive talk straight off the bat, mentions of consuming alcohol, theo being a twat, theo being jealous for no reason, porn with plot, (kind of) risky/public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), ass slapping, hands bound w/ belt, power dynamic, dom! theo, sub! reader, insults during intimacy (slut), oral (m and f receiving), multiple f orgasms, choking, throat fcking, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint (creampie), no aftercare
Word Count: 3.9k
Note: i don't even know what to say tbh. i had to take a moment and think about my life choices mid writing the content warnings... ANYWAY- i think this fic is really hot and i might've went a bit overboard but i'll let you guys decide. hope you all enjoy my horny hours. also- this is my holiday post! not super holiday centered but it's set during December so.. happy holidays! i proof read myself, so i'm sorry if theres some bad grammar or whatever. thank you for reading! you're all wonderful :))
Frat boy AU
wordcount: 1.2k pairing: theodore nott x f!you warnings: 18+, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking Masterlist
Theodore Nott was the type of guy who preferred silence. A quiet, perceptive boy, whose head was a neatly sorted library where each thought had its own shelf. And like any other library, it had a simple rule—no loud noises, no talking, and no ravishing his brain with waffle.
You, on the contrary, were the most infuriating, inveterate (and favourite) chatterbox in his life. You would rather die than stop your mouth from constant running. Professor Flitwick praised you for a perfectly executed spell? Pansy would hear an earful until she started begging with teary eyes for you to finally shut up. Daphne Greengrass nearly pushed you off the Grand Staircase and didn’t even look at you? Fuck, Astoria better be ready to hear what you think about her sister down to the smallest detail.
It was a mystery for everyone how two such opposites could even exist alongside each other. Oh, the answer was pretty simple—he was the only one doing all the talking when there were only the two of you.
Well, someone must do something with you. Killing you was not an option—your house would lose the greatest asset that could easily sweet-talk Professor Slughorn into calling off the test that, surely, nobody had been prepared for. Or defuse the tension between Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle, who had gone at each other like two mad dogs again over yet another nonsense.
So, there was no better candidate to save Hogwarts from you—Theodore Nott would take that burden upon himself.
raw--I mean awww
Sweet Heat Lightning
Blaise Zabini x Reader
Word count: approx. 2.4k
Summary: Blaise finds himself missing you in the heat of July.
Warnings/be aware: kissing, fluff
A/N: my first contribution for Blaise’s Banquet, hosted by the amazing @i-await !! Inspired by Sweet Heat Lighting by Gregory Alan Isakov.
The air was stale in Zabini Manor even in the late hours of night, just as hot and miserably sticky as it had been while the sun was in the sky. Outside, the full moon glowed and the stars flickered in the midnight sky, dancing until they were overcome by jagged bolts of blue light. Sudden cracks of heat lightning lit up the atmosphere, highlighting the vast tracts of land around the Manor, seemingly emphasising the house’s isolation in the English countryside. The ordinary hoots of owls and late-night rustles of leaves were unheard even through the Manor’s open windows, the usual nocturnal creatures seemingly silenced in their quest to escape the heat and the stormless lightning.
Inside the house, a single occupant suffered the sweltering weather. While the rest of the Manor lay dormant, dark and shuttered, rays of light from a solitary bedroom pierced the midnight air.
Blaise stared up at the vaulted ceiling as he lay in his bed, his silk sheets cast aside. Even his skilled cooling charms were easily overcome by the canicule. He’d surrendered to the loathsome July weather, brooding in his misery. Listlessly, he turned his head, glancing out the French doors that led out onto his balcony. The night sky and his own translucent reflection stared back.
Lexxxx you eat up every single time I swear😌
La Mia Principessa
Blaise Zabini x Malfoy!reader
Tags: fluff, pre-relationship, mutual pining, brother's best friend, pro quidditch player!reader, plays for the Holyhead Harpies, mention of a poison attempt, oblivious reader, established Hinny, mentioned Dramione, Lucius is no longer with us🤷♀️, probably inaccurate quidditch terms, idiots in love
A/n: This is a part of the #blaiseappreciationevent hosted by the lovely @i-await Thank you so much for hosting this. You are absolutely brilliant. Our boy deserves so much love.
WC: 3642
Blaise M List | Join My Taglist
CAS IM SCREAMING SCREECHING AHHHHHH where are my discord emotes when I need them
This is literal gold omg
Ink
Paring: Theodore nott x reader
Summary:During Potions class, Theodore’s friends notice your initials written in ink on his wrist — and realize he absentmindedly wrote them there himself. Unfortunately for him, the teasing only gets worse when Slughorn overhears.
Ink splattered across Theodore’s fingers every single day.
Nobody questioned it anymore.
Between essays, Quidditch strategies, and the endless notes he pretended not to care about, his hands were almost always stained black or dark blue. It was normal.
What wasn’t normal was the fact that halfway through Potions, Enzo suddenly grabbed his wrist across the table.
Theo looked up instantly. “What?”
Enzo stared at him for a long moment before his mouth twitched.
“Oh, this is tragic.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “You’re irritating even when you’re quiet.”
“No,” Enzo said slowly, turning Theo’s arm slightly toward the light. “You’re just embarrassingly obvious.”
Theo frowned.
Mattheo leaned over next, immediately bursting into laughter loud enough for half the class to look over.
“There’s actually no way.”
Theo finally looked down at his wrist.
Written in dark ink, right beneath the sleeve of his uniform, were your initials.
Not messy.
Not accidental-looking.
Carefully written.
Like he’d traced them there absentmindedly during class.
Silence.
Then—
“Oh my God,” Mattheo wheezed. “You’re gone. Completely gone.”
Theo yanked his sleeve down immediately. “Shut up.”
“You wrote her initials on yourself.”
“I did not.”
“You literally did,” Enzo said. “That is your handwriting.”
Theo stared at the potion in front of him like he wanted to drown in it.
Because the worst part?
It was his handwriting.
He remembered exactly when he’d done it too — late in History of Magic while half-asleep, listening to you whisper answers beside him.
He hadn’t even realized.
Mattheo looked delighted. “That’s revoltingly romantic.”
Theo looked physically ill hearing that sentence.
“You’re never speaking again,” he muttered.
Unfortunately for him, Professor Slughorn chose that exact moment to appear beside the table.
“Mr. Nott,” Slughorn said pleasantly, “why are your classmates laughing instead of brewing?”
Theo immediately straightened.
Mattheo, still grinning like an idiot, pointed directly at Theo’s wrist.
“Because he’s in love, sir.”
Theo nearly dropped the potion bottle.
games of deception
After finding out you were just a bet, an unexpected hero comes to your rescue. But why would this near stranger be so kind to you? What secret is he hiding? And when it comes to love, can you roll the dice without falling for his charm?
Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader
A/N: I couldn’t resist doing another fake dating trope with Enzo! I love it when he uses his manipulative side for chaotic good lolol. Fluff with a bit of angst!
✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist | 4.7k words
The neon lights blurred as tears slid down your cheeks until they splashed onto the floor. Around you, tangled bodies moved to the rhythm of blaring music, too focused on their own revelry to notice your sorrow.
You copied them, body swaying to a sad song only you could hear. It wasn’t fair. Tonight was supposed to be a break from crying in your room while eating tubs of ice cream in your oversized shirt. Instead you were at a Slytherin party, crying while your sequined dress sparkled.
Shut up shut up SHUT UP
Poolside Hero
Blaise Zabini x Reader
Tags: meet cute turned fake dating, modern au, Pansy adopts you, bothersome ex, fluff, reader in a bikini
Blaise M List | Join My Taglist
A/n: This is a part of the #blaiseappreciationevent hosted by the lovely @i-await Thank you so much for hosting this. You are absolutely brilliant. Our boy deserves so much love.
Cas you devoured babe🤭
least sought after girl in the land (a My Man on His Willpower inspired fic)
your boyfriend on his self-help kick is something you don't understand
a/n - mannn its rlly been way too long i completely forgot how i format my fics hehe, i started this fic when i was taking a socrates/self-help class in fall 2025 (around the release of mbf) so this is a loooong time coming heh (this fic is totally not a way for me to flex my self-help module wdym wdym 😛😛😛) anyways pls be nice its my first fic in a long while tyty
tropes/warnings - some mildly suggestive content, established lovers, comedyyyy
word count - 3.5k
taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167 @lillytrannn
The greenhouse was nearly empty. The air still smelled faintly of damp earth and crisp sprouts from the lesson earlier, and the humidity wasn't doing your hair any favours. Still, you appreciated the pleasant warmth underneath the glare of the steadily intensifying sun as dusk grew nearer. The only sound was the soft scrape of your knife against the shrivelfig’s skin. It was therapeutic.
That is, until a familiar arm snaked around your waist, tugging you flush against robes softened from wear, with a faint, lingering scent of cedar.
“Nott,” you admonished, albeit half-heartedly. “You're going to make me cut my thumb off.”
“And yet,” Theo murmured into your hair, voice low, "you haven't." He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, watching idly as you sliced. "Shall I try again?"
You elbowed him lightly, swallowing a smile. “Alright, smartass. Don’t hover. You’ll make me nervous.”
"I make you nervous?"
Clearly, you hadn't elbowed him hard enough the first time. Theo stifled a groan, making an indignant sound in the back of his throat. "So when I hover, it's a nuisance, but when it's you - "
"That's different. I possess sensibilities and faculties you don't."
"Such as?"
You held up your knife.
"The ability to not cut my thumb off."
Blaise x No More Tears!Reader Headcanons
I've gotten multiple requests for a part 2 <3 and I haven't been able to stop thinking about No More Tears since I wrote it so here are some ideas hehe, if any of these resonate lmk and I'll try to incorporate them into the final product!
(This post does reference the original fic heavily so if you haven't read it yet I would recommend reading it first here)
Literally the second you leave the Slytherin common room in the morning, Blaise finds your ex and threatens him like he's never been threatened before
"Do not look at her, do not talk to her, do not think about her. Understood?"
Blaise is determined to make sure that he never bothers you again
As soon as the other Slytherin boys see Blaise interact with you, they can tell how down bad he is for you
(They could tell even before your breakup just by how bad Blaise couldn't stand your ex lolol)
They tease him about it at first ofc, but they never give you a hard time when you come around
Pansy and Daphne are thrilled, literally over the moon to have another girl to hang out with
—high infidelity
pairing: theo nott x reader, mattheo riddle x reader
summary: theo is watching how your relationship with mattheo is slowly destroying you. theo just hopes you would realize how much more he loves you.
warning: toxic relationship, use of language
Cradling the quiet ☆*:・ﾟtheodore nott
summary; in the quiet of the war’s ending moments, you’re desperate for everything to be alright, even if it’ll never be.
content warnings; angst, heavy angst, angstiest angst I’ve written in a hot minute, Mattheo is also heavily mentioned and takes part in the fic, so I put him in the tags as well. no comfort just pain. I’m so sorry.
word count; 2.6k
The war was over—or at least, that was what the world insisted on telling you.
Because what settled in its wake didn’t feel like victory. It wasn’t peace. It was something heavier. Thicker. A silence so complete it swallowed every sound until even your own breathing felt intrusive, too loud in a place that no longer knew how to hold life. It pressed against your ears until they rang, until you found yourself straining to hear something—anything—beneath it.
