lazyahhshifter

[lazyahhshifter]

I'm tired of this, Grandpa.

[lazyahhshifter]

turkish remus lupin i think abt u always…..

[lazyahhshifter]

500 DAYS OF YOU.

꩜ ⋮ wc: 11.4k+

꩜ ⋮ content: sexual content, self sabotaging, angst + POOR decisions. if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around, i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.

꩜ ⋮ summary: oh, what a love story; a hopeless romantic who believes in grand gestures and forever, falling for a girl who keeps love at arm’s length, never staying long enough to get hurt. if this were a movie, they’d overcome every barrier, meet in the rain for a dramatic kiss, and ride off into the sunset… right?

ㅤ───── ❝ don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. ❞

THEODORE LOVES the way your presence makes him feel, even when you’re not there, for example; the scent of coconut on his sheets, like the brush of your fingers tickling over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. he is utterly charmed by how your eyes contain an entire forest, all deep and infinite, drawing him in and leaving him lost as he tries to find his way out. he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

he loves the way your lips curl around his name, as if tasting it, savoring it.

he loves the softness of your voice when it’s just the two of you, words softer than a baby’s bum. he loves the way you touch him, not just in the way that sets his skin on fire, though merlin knows it does, but in a way that makes him feel shy, with nothing but smiles and blushes. the way your fingers trail over the back of his ear when you think he isn’t paying attention. the way you lean into him for a kiss without thinking, as if your body knows what your lips want.

he loves the fire in you, the way you argue with him, push him, yet always find your way back. drawn to him like gravity. he loves the way you undress him, the way your breath hitches when he’s all vulnerable and naked, the way your pulse flutters beneath his lips when he moans against your throat.

god, he loves you. he loves you so much. he really fucking loves you.

═════════════

“WHAT HAPPENED?” pansy immediately shushed enzo with a small slap to his shoulder as he stepped through the door. the group of five stayed on the other side of the room, watching in silence. usually, they wouldn’t give two fucks if theodore decided to be lazy at five in the afternoon, they’d all done it before. but this was different: theodore had been in bed for a week straight.

not in the exhausted, crash after a long day kind of way. no, he hadn’t gotten up to shower. he hadn’t eaten. and now that theodore thought about it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually slept. he’d been lying in bed, yeah. but sleep? that hadn’t come at all.

his friends would stop by his apartment every few days to hang out, but theodore either told them to leave the second they walked in or didn’t bother responding at all; just laid there, silent, hoping they’d take the hint and get the fuck out. “he’s been like this all week,” blaise said, chocolate eyes filled with worry as he watched his best friend. “draco and i tried to talk to him, but it’s either an argument or nothing at all. no in between.”

“infuriating idiot,” enzo muttered under his breath, shooting his friends a look before deciding to try for himself. on the way over, he’d even grabbed theodore some snacks, so really, there was no excuse. who could argue with free food?

lorenzo watched as theodore lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, hands tucked behind his head. “fuck are you moping around for?” enzo asked, dropping onto the edge of the bed. he held up the bag of snacks, giving it a little shake. “got your favorite, now you can’t be mad.”

now that enzo was closer, he could see it. he nearly gasped, but quickly snapped himself out of it, blinking rapidly: theodore had become a mix of scrawny and weak flesh, cheekbones sharper, eyes drooping with exhaustion. he swore he’d seen this fucker just a week ago, and things had seemed somewhat stable.

it was strange. enzo had never seen theodore like this before, so detached, so… small. his silence was deafening, as if he were in a contest of wills where the prize was his very soul. that’s how quiet he was. for a singular moment, enzo thought theo wouldn’t say anything, just like blaise had warned. he barely even looked conscious. his eyes were open, yeah, but that was about it.

what had brought him to this? what was making him so strangely quiet, so weirdly small? enzo was about to open his mouth again, ready to be harsher than he planned when something happened.

a nod. a quick, almost invisible tilt of theo’s head. from the small sound pansy made behind him, enzo had a feeling that was the first reaction any of them had gotten from theodore all week.

“snacks?” enzo tried, holding them out. theodore shook his head slightly, silent refusal.

that’s when it hit enzo. something was wrong. not just because theodore hadn’t looked away from the ceiling, like enzo’s words were going in one ear and out the other. not just because he looked so drained, so unhealthy. but because he didn’t even reach for the snacks. theo would’ve snatched the bag right out of his hold by now.

enzo’s stomach twisted. he held the snacks a little higher, hoping for any sort of reaction, but theodore didn’t move. not even a twitch.

pansy stepped forward, a little hesitantly, and placed a hand on enzo’s shoulder. “we need to do something,” she murmured, voice quiet as though speaking too loud would shatter whatever fragile state theodore was in. which was exactly what theo didn’t want. he didn’t want pity. he didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, and he certainly didn’t want them here, hovering over him. but if he told them to leave, he knew he’d be the one in the wrong.

lorenzo glanced at pansy, helplessness bubbling up. “what do you want me to do? he’s barely even fuckin’ here. look at him.” don’t look at me, please, theodore wanted to say.

“we need to get him to talk. whatever it is, he’s shutting us out,” draco said, pulling a book from theodore’s small bookshelf. “we can’t just let him keep doing this.” please, let me keep doing this. it’s the only thing that keeps me sane, theodore thought.

blaise nodded in agreement. “he won’t even look at us. we can’t force him, but we can’t just wait around either.” besides, they had already done the waiting, each of them taking turns to check on theodore. enzo however, was distracted by other things, and his girlfriend. he wasn’t around as much as the others, but he was closer to theodore than anyone else. if there was anyone nott might finally open up to and admit what was wrong, they all hoped it would be berkshire.

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, all of them watching theodore’s still form. however, enzo wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay silent. the way theodore looked now: empty, disconnected, was oddly breaking him.

he leaned forward, a bit more determined this time, and gently shook the bag of snacks. “theo,” he said, softer this time, “you can’t keep doing this. you’re scaring the hell out of us.” you’re fucking scared for me? i’m scared for myself, theodore wanted to say.

another moment of silence passed, then theodore finally moved. not much, but enough. his head shifted slightly, and his eyes flickered, almost like he was struggling to focus. enzo’s heart skipped, unsure if it was the beginning of a breakthrough or another dead end. “do you want me to bring that girl over here to make you talk—”

“i’m fine?” theodore’s voice sounded more like a question than a statement, as if the answer was being questioned rather than told, and it didn’t sound like someone who was ‘just fine.’ the words felt flat.

enzo clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap. he knew he wasn’t fine. but what could he say? what could he do? “you don’t look fine.” at all.

theodore didn’t respond, eyes drilled to the ceiling. the silence settling between them once more as the rest of the group watched quietly. pansy stepped closer, speaking gently, “theodore, we’re here for you. you don’t have to do this alone.” but that’s what theodore wants. he wants to be alone. stay alone, live alone, spend the rest of his life alone. alone, alone, alone.

mattheo nodded. “whatever it is, we’re not leaving until you talk to us. we’ll figure it out together.”

for a second, there was nothing but the sound of theodore’s shallow breaths. and then, finally, he spoke again;

“no.” leave me alone.

it wasn’t harsh, wasn’t an argument. theodore simply didn’t want to talk. he didn’t want help. he didn’t want anyone there.

enzo had been bracing for a breakdown, for some sort of emotion, but this was worse. this was complete emptiness, the silence that screamed louder than any words ever could. it was like the doors had slammed shut, and no matter how hard they tried to knock, theodore wasn’t going to let them in.

and what do you do when you’ve already knocked politely and the person on the other end isn’t responding? you break the door down.

“we’re not leaving, theo. not until you talk to us.”

enzo reached for the snacks again, gripping them tightly, as though the act itself might force something out of theodore. “if you don’t start talking now, i’ll find that girl and ask her myself.” enzo wasn’t stupid. maybe a little slow at times, but when it came to figuring out what was eating at his friends, he either demanded the truth or figured it out on his own. it wasn’t obvious at first, but the way theodore’s throat visibly tightened, the way his eyes darted toward him, was the confirmation lorenzo needed.

it had to be something to do with that girl theodore had been spending most of his time with. it made sense, theodore had always been a sucker for romance. he loved the idea of loving someone with all his being, of caring for them through every step of life.

when he first started talking to her, he didn’t tell his friends right away, respecting her wish not to be anyone’s girlfriend at the moment. they understood and didn’t press him further. but enzo had never seen theodore as happy as he did then: there was a kick in his step, something brighter in his eyes. now, though, it was all the opposite: drained and helpless. and the way theodore visibly grimaced at the mere mention of her? that told enzo everything.

“i don’t… know how,” theodore whispered. voice weak, but it was there, cracked and all, but there.

“just start from the beginning and tell us what happened,” pansy cut in, her voice as soft as it had ever been. enzo gave her a subtle nudge, signaling for her to dial it back a little.

theodore nodded, slowly sitting up in his bed. “things were going so well,” he began, and immediately, everyone fell silent, their full attention on him. “and then?” enzo prodded, not bothering to hide his impatience. he didn’t have time for theodore to drag this out any longer.

“and then…” he huffed. “they weren’t.”

DAY 001.

sitting in a corner of his favorite coffee shop, eyes glued to the pages of a book he wasn’t really reading, but pretending to: theodore had always been someone who treasured peaceful moments, much like this one. he was always a little lost in thought, but today, his mind wasn’t on the book, wasn’t on the quiet talk of the shop or the hum of the espresso machine.

no, today, his thoughts were scattered in the direction of someone in particular.

he’d noticed you the moment you stepped inside, a sight that had a way of drawing eyes, without even trying. you were gorgeous, a kind of beauty that made everything around you seem ordinary by comparison. your hair was the color of the late summer sun, a soft, warm shade that made him want to reach out and touch it: just to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

you moved with such classiness, smile lighting up the shop the way the first rays of dawn lit the sky. but what really made you stand out, what really caught him, were your eyes; dark, twinkling.

theodore had always been a firm believer in love at first sight, a hopeless romantic at heart. but despite his beliefs, he had never truly experienced it himself. he had found plenty of girls attractive, even beautiful, but never in a way that instantly captivated his mind and pulled him in.

he hadn’t meant to stare, really. but he couldn’t help it. you were sitting across the shop, reading your own book, completely unaware of his gaze. and for some reason, today, he couldn’t pull himself away. you had this laugh: soft, almost musical, that echoed in his mind, even as he tried to read the same sentence for the third time. he’d never been so entranced by someone before. the way you furrowed your brow when you were deep in thought, the way your lips moved as you whispered lines from your book.

so, naturally, it was at that exact moment, when his thoughts were completely consumed by you, that disaster struck.

he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, too caught up in the mesmerization of your presence, when he felt a sharp, sudden pressure on his hand. it wasn’t until the heat rushed through his skin, painfully hot and burning, that he realized what had happened.

he had, without a second thought, been holding his coffee cup too tightly, too carelessly, and in his dazed trance, the hot liquid had sloshed out, spilling straight onto his fingers.

“shit!” he hissed, the pain finally snapping him out of his fog. he looked down at his hand, now starting to redden from the burn, and then, just then, he heard your voice:

“sir? your hand is burning.” how did you get here so quickly? when did you even get up? did he shout that loudly? oh my god.

his eyes shot up, and there you fuckin’ were. standing in front of him. the beautiful, perfect woman he had been staring at for the last few minutes. he blinked a few times, the world still a little blurry, his mind struggling to process.

“oh. yeah.” he couldn’t think of anything else to say. what was he supposed to say? he just burned himself because he was staring at you like an idiot?

he didn’t have time to finish that thought before he realized — shit, yeah, his hand hurt. his hand now burning with the heat of the spilled coffee, was all he could focus on. and now that the initial shock was over, panic started to set in. great, now he was freaking out.

"fuck, fuck, fuck."

but you didn’t seem phased at all. your gorgeous eyes were concerned but not judgmental, and there was this little smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. you weren’t laughing at him. no, you weren’t the type. but you could probably see how utterly ridiculous he looked in this moment.

“are you okay?” you asked, stepping closer, your tone a hint of playfulness, like you found it funny, but in a good way. your gaze didn’t leave his hand, and theodore’s mind was whirling, too stunned to even answer you at first. he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere in his throat.

“uh, i… think i need ice.” he finally stuttered, realizing how ridiculous he must look sitting there, holding his now painful hand. his words were out before he could think about them, and he immediately felt embarrassed. but then you nodded and quickly turned to the counter, calling for the barista behind the register.

“can you get some ice, please?” your voice was sweet, and theodore watched as you moved effortlessly behind the counter, speaking to the barista with such calmness.

he couldn’t stop staring at you. you were so beautiful, even in this insane situation. you weren’t fazed by him, weren’t judging him for what he assumed was an incredibly awkward moment. in fact, there was a little spark in your eyes that made his stomach do flips. he had to admit it: he was definitely caught in your orbit.

and if he wasn’t careful, he might just let himself get pulled in.

when you returned, you handed him a small paper towel with some ice wrapped inside. “here,” you said, voice feather light. “just hold that for a few minutes. i’m pretty sure you’ll live.”

theodore took the ice, still a little too dazed to process what was happening. “thanks,” he said, realizing he was grinning like a fool for someone who just got their hand burned. but he couldn’t help it. there was something about the way you were looking at him that made him feel like maybe everything was going to be okay.

you laughed softly, that same sound that had captivated him earlier. “no problem,” you said, tone relaxed, though there was something warm behind it. “but next time, maybe… don’t stare so hard?”

theodore froze. had you caught him? he opened his mouth to apologize, but you beat him to it. “…kidding,” you added with a wink. “but seriously, you should be careful next time. coffee’s not the only thing that can burn you.”

theodore chuckled nervously. “i’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” he felt like a total idiot, but somehow, it didn’t feel as bad as it should have. there was something about your easy smile and playful teasing, that made him feel… well, alive.

you two sat there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. he’d ask you about your book, and you’d answer with a smile, genuinely interested in talking to him. and he’d talk about his favorite songs, the ones that reminded him of late night drives, and you’d listen, truly listening, like you cared about his words.

and as the minutes passed, theodore started to realize that maybe this was the beginning of something. something good. something that wasn’t just a random coffee shop encounter.

and maybe that was exactly what he needed.

DAY 005.

the record shop was quiet, the sound of a guitar riff playing somewhere in the background. the smell of vinyl, old paper, and dust; a scent that somehow felt nostalgic, even if neither of you had ever been here before. with shelves lined with records from every genre, spanning decades of music history. the kind of spot where you could lose yourself for hours, flipping through rows of albums, and still discover something new.

you and theo had spent the last hour wandering the aisles, talking about everything. it was easy like that: being with him. there was no pressure, no expectation, no labels, just the two of you in your own little world, surrounded by music that both felt like home and yet like an exciting unknown.

he had been humming along to an old jazz record when he looked over at you, eyes bright with amusement. “you know,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “i think we’ve been here so long, i might just start buying a bunch of records i don’t even have the equipment to play.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “yeah, but look at this place. there’s something beautiful about it… you can’t leave without at least buying one.”

he grinned, turning to flip through another stack of vinyls. “well, if you insist, i guess i’ll have to get something… but only if you do the same.”

you shrugged casually, but inside you were already scanning the shelves, feeling a little giddy at the thought of picking out a record for yourself. you’d always loved the thought of vinyls; the crackling sound, the physicality of putting the needle down. and there was something about sharing this with theodore that made the experience even more special.

you continued to flip through the records, and then it happened. as your hand brushed past a familiar cover, you froze.

“the smiths!” you said at the same time theo did, both of you speaking in unison, as if your minds were completely in sync.

you were obsessed with the smiths, always playing their music around your tiny apartment whenever you decided to wake up early for breakfast or blast it while you took a shower, singing along like you were in a karaoke session. theodore shared the same love for the smiths. whenever it was his turn to play dj with his friends, no matter what they were doing, he'd crank up the smiths to full volume.

it was such a silly moment, both of you saying the same thing at the exact same time. you turned to him, eyes wide with surprise, and he matched your look, both of you suddenly aware of the perfect timing.

you quickly snatched the vinyl, and theodore thought you were about to say something, but instead, you just grabbed it and headed toward the front of the shop. the person behind the counter, a young guy who’d been listening to the two of you talk, smiled knowingly and immediately grabbed the record from your hand.

he didn’t even ask, just slid it onto the turntable and pressed play.

before either of you could say anything, the familiar sound of: ‘there is a light that never goes out’ began to fill the spot, the opening guitar riff sweeping through. you felt a jolt of excitement.

the planet felt tinier, just the two of you and this beautiful song. you couldn’t help yourself. a laugh bubbled up, and before you even knew what you were doing, you stepped forward and gave theodore a playful shove.

"come on! you have to dance with me now," you teased, holding out your hand for him to take. theodore stared at you like you'd just killed his cat. here? right here? in the middle of the shop?

theo hesitated for a split second, but the smile on your face was contagious. he grinned back at you, shrugging in mock defeat. “guess i don’t have much of a choice, do i?”

"nope, not at all." theo glanced at your outstretched hand, then immediately took it with his larger one. you both began swaying to the music, spinning lightly, completely unconcerned about looking a bit ridiculous in a nearly empty record shop.

there was no need for anything fancy, just two people, letting the music guide them. the way your fingers brushed together. the way your gazes held for a second longer than usual. the laughter between you was softer, but beneath it was a chemistry neither of you could deny.

he stepped a little closer, and you could feel the warmness of his body as the music swirled around you both. it was confidential in its plainness, the kind of familiarity that had nothing to do with anything physical, but everything to do with the way you fit together in that moment. the song seemed to go on forever, both of you lost in it, too focused on the way you seemed to mirror each other to care about anything else.

at one point, you twirled, and he spun you with ease, hands in the air for a second before you found your way back into his arms. you weren’t thinking about how silly it probably looked. you weren’t thinking about anything except the contact you shared. the way the music made everything feel so cinematic, as if this was the only moment that amounted to something. the only thing that existed was you, him, and this damn song.

when the song finally faded, you both slowed, standing there in a breathless silence, still holding on to each other as the last notes played out. theodore looked at you with an almost amused smile, a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“not bad,” he said, a little out of breath. not bad at all. he wasn’t out of breath from the dancing; it was more from the way you were moving so close to him.

you cheekily grinned back at him, unable to stop the goofy smile that spread across your face. “i think we might be a pretty good pair.”

“oh, definitely,” he replied.

the record continued to spin, both of you moved back toward the counter. neither of you had to say anything to confirm what was happening. the way he looked at you, the way you felt when you were near him, it was already there, clear as day.

“i think i’ll take this one,” you said, nodding toward the album that had started it all. theodore smiled, teeth and all. “yeah, me too.”

DAY 010.

“is that your boyfriend?” asked chloe, pointing to theodore with a drunken grin.

it was one of those small parties your friends always seemed to throw at their place; flickering lights, loud music, filled with the smell of alcoholic drinks and cheap cologne. people were laughing, talking, and dancing in the corner, but the energy felt more chaotic than fun. your friends had a way of getting a little too wild after a few too many drinks. you were standing by the little bar, quietly observing, hoping you could have a conversation without getting caught up in the madness.

theodore was next to you, sipping on his drink but barely making a dent in it. he’d been quiet all evening, leaning against the counter as you spoke to the others, but always close enough that you could feel the easy comfort between you two. it wasn’t like you had to try hard to make conversation with theo.

the music blasted, and you found yourself smiling at the way theodore seemed perfectly at ease despite the loudness. you were about to say something when one of your more outspoken friends, chloe, came up to you, clearly a little tipsy. she slurred a bit as she spoke, eyes moving between you and theodore.

you had blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. you didn’t have a boyfriend, and definitely didn’t want to put any labels on what you and theodore had. it was… something, but not something you were prepared to define.

you shook your head, the corner of your lips pulling up into a small smile. “no. he’s not.”

she raised her eyebrows, eye drifting between you two, a smile tugging at her lips. “do you want him to be?”

you felt a slight knot form in your stomach. you glanced at theodore, who seemed to be distracted by the conversation happening across the party, looking more like an observer than someone caught in the middle of the conversation.

“no,” you said quickly, a little too quickly, before realizing the quickness of your words. “i don’t want a boyfriend.”

chloe squinted at you, clearly not satisfied with the answer, even though she was clearly a few drinks in. “why not? you two seem perfect together,” she hiccuped, not exactly trying to be subtle.

you diverted your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable under her questioning. you had always been the type to keep your emotions in check, never one to easily open up about what was really going on in your head. relationships were always a bit too complicated for you, something you avoided because of how messy they could get. but now, with her asking you directly, you had to find a way to explain it without sounding like you were dodging the truth.

you shrugged slightly, trying to keep your tone feather light, but the words came out harsher than you intended. “i just don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.”

ouch. that was a punch to the gut.

chloe burped, trying to process what you said. “what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice confused but still investigating. ugh, chloe and her nose that seem to be everywhere it shouldn't be. theodore turned slightly to face you. he gave you a small look, one that said he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he was still there. eyes meeting yours.

you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. you’d never really explained it to anyone, not in this way. you didn’t like the idea of labels. you didn’t want the responsibility of being someone’s ‘other half’ or fitting into a predefined mold. you didn’t want to be something you had to define or protect.

“don’t know,” you muttered, looking down at your drink for a second, then back at chloe. “it’s just… i don’t want to be tied to someone. i don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend, you know?” chloe didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that, but she shrugged, probably too drunk to press it further. she gave you a teasing grin, as if she was still convinced you were just playing hard to get. “well, if you change your mind, i’ll be waiting for the wedding invite.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but the conversation had left you feeling uneasy. you glanced at theodore, who had gone back to his previous position, quietly observing the party.

you didn’t want to complicate things. you didn’t want to risk anything between you and theodore: what you had was easy and you didn’t want to mess with that. he wasn’t asking for anything from you, and that was what made it different from everything else you’d experienced. but at the same time, the chemistry between you two was undeniable, and sometimes it felt like you were standing on the edge of something that could become more if you were willing to let it.

but not tonight.

“come on, let’s get out of here,” you said to theo, trying to change the subject. “this place is getting too crazy.”

he raised an eyebrow, a playful smile crossing his face. “escape while we can, huh?”

“mhm.” you nodded, relieved that he didn’t push the conversation further. you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door, ready to leave behind the noise and confusion. whatever was happening between you two, whatever it might become, you didn’t need to rush it. you just needed to take it one step at a time, and for once, that felt like enough.

DAY 020:

“delivery!” before you could even pull yourself from the comfort of your bed, the door creaked open, revealing theodore. his messy curls and the sleepy flash in his eyes made it clear that he had been up for hours, carefully planning something. in his hands, he was hiding something, a devilish spark dancing in his gaze.

“got you something,” he said softly. you squinted at him through the confusion of sleep, raising a bushy eyebrow. “what’s all this? you’re acting suspicious.”

he gave you that handsome grin of his, the one that could melt the hardest of hearts, and shook his head. “suspicious? me?” his tone was playful, but you could hear a softness beneath it, something that made you realize he was trying to hide his excitement.

just as you were about to ask him again, you heard it: a soft sound. a tiny, delicate mewl that tugged at your heart. your breath caught in your chest, and before you could even process it, theodore pulled his hands from behind his back and revealed the tiniest, fluffiest little kitten you had ever seen.

the little kitten in his hands was so cute, you honestly felt like you might burst right then and there. you’d dropped hints to theodore countless times about wanting a cat, but to actually see him holding one, this tiny, perfect ball of fur: it took your breath away.

he actually listened. holy shit.

your eyes enlarged. soft and white as snow, with wide, innocent eyes that blinked up at you like it was seeing the world for the first time. it was so small, its little paws barely making a sound on the edge of theodore’s hands. your heart flapped in your chest, as you couldn’t help but reach out with trembling fingers, just to confirm it was real.

he smiled, watching you with such affection in his eyes. “i know you wanted one,” he said quietly as he lowered the kitten into your lap. you gasped, hands instinctively catching it, cradling the tiny creature against your chest.

the kitten gave a soft meow, nuzzling into the warmth of your hands, its little nose twitching as it looked for comfort in your embrace. you looked up at theodore, overwhelmed by the sweetness.

“theo…” you breathed, voice dipped with so much emotion, trying to form words but finding them impossible.

he settled beside you on the bed, hand gently resting on your back, his touch grounding you. he watched you, eyes full of warmth, like he was seeing everything he had ever hoped for right before him.

“i wanted to give you something that you would love you,” he murmured softly. “something that would remind you every day how much you mean to me.”

you felt your heart swell, his words making everything else disappear. you looked down at the kitten, feeling the tiny pulse of life in your hands, and then back at theodore, your chest tight with something beautiful.

you couldn’t stop smiling. like the universe had conspired to give you this perfect moment, the kind of moment that felt like it belonged in a dream.

the little kitten blinked up at you, trusting you without question, you realized something.

you weren’t just holding a tiny life in your hands; you were holding something that would always remind you of theodore, his kindness, of the ways he showed you how much he cared.

regardless, you caught yourself thinking: why did he care? why was he so kind to you? so perfect? way too perfect.

the kitten nuzzled into your chest, curling up in the safest place it could find, you felt the most comforting warmth wrap around your heart. you didn’t need anything more. you had everything you needed right there, this little bundle in your lap.

DAY 035:

the first glare of sunrise had barely begun to color the sky with streaks of pink and orange, radiating a golden glow over everything. you stood beside theodore at the edge of the balcony, breath visible due to the cold air, but there was something comforting about the coolness. it felt like you were the only two people awake in the planet, in a place that existed just for the two of you.

theodore was calmer than usual, hand brushing lightly against yours as he motioned for you to follow him. his smile was small but full of excitement, a nervous energy you hadn’t seen from him before.

he led you toward the edge of the balcony, where the city stretched out below you, a breathtaking sight of towering, shimmering buildings, their sharp angles softened by the rising sun.

“this is it,” he said. his stare moved over the city, and you saw the way the light hit the buildings, releasing long shadows that made them seem even grander, more majestic. you couldn’t help but follow his gaze, taking in the stunning view, but what caught your attention wasn’t just the beauty of the city. it was the way theodore looked at it, as though this view, this moment, held more meaning than just the view itself.

“you’ve never seen the city like this, have you?” theo asked. you shook your head, feeling something stir in your chest. “no… it’s beautiful.” the words felt too small for the scene before you, but they were all you could manage.

theodore nodded, eyes not leaving the view. “it’s my favorite time of day. when everything feels new and everything’s beginning to settle down. the city feels like it’s just for you, like you’ve got the whole world at your feet.” he turned to face you then, his eyes full of that quiet passion you liked so much. “i wanted to share it with you.”

your heart skipped a beat.

you knew theodore well enough by now to understand that moments like these were rare for him, he didn’t often open up, didn’t often let others see the things he held closest to his heart. having that in mind, here he was, letting you into this piece of him. the view, the calm of the world at sunrise, the feeling of being completely alone with someone you cared for; it was all so intimate, so personal.

so… weird. in a good way.

right?

“you’re the only one i’ve ever shared this with,” he continued, stepping closer. the distance between you closed, his body enclosing as he looked down at you, gaze stable. you could see the defenselessness in his eyes, something he didn’t often let others see, but something that felt so raw.

you didn’t know how to feel.

“thank you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. you hadn’t realized how much this moment meant to you until that second.

you looked up at him, heart so confusingly full, overwhelmed by how deeply he had shared something so meaningful with you. and that’s when you saw it; the way his eyes softened just a little, the way his lips parted in a way that seemed almost hesitant.

so beautifully.

without another word, he leaned in. slowly, as though he were giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t. you didn’t want to.

the distant murmur of the city seemed to evaporate, the promise of a new day, all of it faded as you closed your eyes and felt his lips brush gently against yours.

it was soft, almost as if testing the waters at first, unsure but still confident enough to take the bait. you let yourself sink into the kiss, your pulse quickening as the warmth of his lips ignited something inside you.

it was a kiss of biting and tugging before your bottom lips and tongues entwine.

theodore chuckled into the messy kiss before he suddenly grabbed your jaw, pulling away to part his own lips. then angled your head, forcing your kiss to be deep with him; dominating.

when your top lip became trapped between the velvety softness of his lips, which had become perfectly plump from the passion, he started moving against you. wet, smacking sounds of lips parting and greedily reconnecting, each smack of the lips more binding and starved than the last.

with the sun rising behind you and the city sprawling, in his mind, it was just the two of you. and when you pulled away, just slightly, you could see the same wonder reflected in theodore’s eyes; the same surprise, the same sense of awe.

“… amazing you are,” he whispered, breath mixing with yours. his words all soft and sincere, making your chest explode with butterflies.

DAY 040:

“fuckin’ beautiful.” theodore leans in, rosy lips trailing sloppy, wet kisses along your neck and collarbone as he grips your hips tightly. he spins you around and presses you against the cold shower wall, one hand palming your breast roughly. his dick throbbing insistently between your ass cheeks.

theo's hand squeezes your breast firmly, fingers pinching your hard nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. you can feel his cock, all huge and hard, sliding between your ass cheeks, the head leaking pre cum that mixes with the water streaming down your body.

what began as an innocent shower together quickly transformed into something much more eager. as theodore gently lathered shampoo into your hair, your mind raced with desire, consumed by the urge to have him inside you.

the feeling of his hardness pressing against you only fueled your appetite, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

with your back turned to him, the cool tiles of the shower sent shivers down your chest, heightening your awareness of every touch. theodore's left hand pressed firmly against your lower back, while his other hand explored your body, fingers teasingly playing with your chest.

with a deep groan, nott reaches down and guides the head of his swollen dick to your drenched pussy, pushes forward, spreading your tender lips apart as he sinks inside you with a turtle type of speed; sooo slow, sooo deep.

your body trembles, legs parting instinctively to take him deeper. “my beautiful girl, all needy and shit.”

theodore lifts your left leg, hooking your ankle over the edge of the tub. this position opens you up even more, his cock hitting deeper spots inside you. “augh!” he starts moving his hips, his dick sliding in and out of your pussy with wet, mushy sounds.

“god, you’re perfect," theodore grits out, hips pushing forward, driving his big size deep inside you. the water makes your body glisten, little water droplets sliding down your stomach and inner thighs.

the feeling is indeed perfect. but the way you're soaking wet has its downsides. his dick keeps slipping out with loud, wet 'plop' sounds due to your extreme arousal. it's frustrating him, making him grunt in annoyance between thrusts.

theodore pulls out, ignoring your mewling protest, his cock soaking with your juices. without a word, he yanks open the tub curtain, lifting you off the ground. your legs instinctively wrapping around his muscular torso.

you didn’t say a word, you trusted him as much as you needed him.

as soon as your legs are securely wrapped around his waist, he steps out of the shower, his left foot hitting the soft carpet first, followed by his right. the plush carpet tickles the soles of his feet. you expect theodore to carry you to the bed or bend you over the sink, but as soon as his feet touch the carpet outside the tub, he suddenly sinks to his knees.

he didn't take a single step; rather, he gently lowered you onto the bathroom floor, the soft carpet grazing your back. your legs stayed wrapped around his waist as his hand moved between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"stop being a tease," you snap, frustrated by his slow torture. you use your leg wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, digging the heel of your foot into his lower back to urge him deeper. it works, as you feel him finally slide fully inside you, filling you completely.

on the carpet, theodore's movements become even more crude. he pulls out slowly, cock glistening with water droplets. then, he thrusts back in, hips grinding against yours. your perky tits jiggle due to impact, nipples puckered red from his earlier sucking.

he swells inside you with each slam of his hips, your walls gripping and releasing.

"ohhh, right there," you gasp, gripping his biceps tightly as he hits the spot that sends shockwaves through your body. "right here?" theodore asks, pulling out completely before sliding back inside you, thrusting forward to hit the sensitive area over and over again.

"yes! yesss, please right there…" you beg, your lips parting with each jab he hits your g-spot. the sexiest moans he's ever heard echo through the bathroom, making him grip your thighs tighter to pound into you harder.

with both hands braced against the floor on either side of your head, his fingertips brushing against the bathroom carpet, theodore dips his head down to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. he pulls it down gently before releasing it.

the carpet provided a steady surface, and oh, you felt every inch of him. his handsome face only heightened the pleasure — this man was incredibly sexy. you didn’t want this to end, not yet, but you were so close: closer than you’d ever been. you couldn’t help yourself. god, you couldn’t help a single fucking thing.

theodore can feel your orgasm by the way you grasp the back of his head, pulling him against your chest as your legs tighten around him. he starts to pound into you harder, hitting the spot rougher and making you a mess. "wanna feel it all over me,"

you let go, hot and warm juices coating his dick as he jolts inside you. this causes him to thrust even deeper, the bulge in your stomach becoming more prominent. "holy shit," he groans, the sight and feel of you sending him over the edge as well.

"mhmmm," he breathes out heavily, feeling his release coming. swiftly pulling out just in time, theodore moves up your body until your mouth is perfectly aligned with his twitching cock. "open up," he rasps, watching as his red, swollen head pulsates dangerously close to your lips.

you could barely catch your breath after your orgasm, yet you obeyed, chest rising and falling, but you still listened.

"eat my fuckin’ kids," he snarls, pinching the tip of his dick slightly before releasing hot streams of cum into your mouth. you obediently swallow it down, your throat working to gulp it all down as he watches with heavy eyes.

DAY 055:

it started with a simple, “come with me,” as theodore tugged you outside in the middle of the night. wrapped in blankets, the two of you lay on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“you see that one?” he murmured, pointing at a bright star. “that one’s yours.”

you turned your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “mine?”

he smirked. “yeah. named it after you.” you snorted. “you can’t just name a star.” theodore had this gorgeous beauty mark right on his cheekbone, and you adored it. it made him look even more stunning, his face so perfectly beautiful.

“says who?” he turned his head to meet your gaze, eyes shining in the gloss of the moonlight. “it’s yours. and every time you look up at it, i want you to remember that someone out there thinks you’re just as bright.”

he was so perfect: so kind, so genuine, good in every way, inside and out. it made you wonder what you had done to deserve him, to deserve his presence, his time, and the quiet way he made the world feel softer just by being in it.

it also made you wonder why he felt too good for you. how he could be everything while you felt like nothing in comparison. the thought drowned you, a pang settling in your chest as theodore spoke, but his words blurred into nothing more than muffled noise.

did he really like you, or was it all just a performance? and if it was, how was he so convincing? but if it wasn’t: if every word, every glance, every touch was real — then how was he so naturally good at making people feel special, at knowing exactly what to say, exactly how to make someone feel good?

your heart did an embarrassing flip. you weren’t sure if it was from his kind words or the odd feeling stirring inside you: something new, something unsettling. either way, it made you shift slightly to your right, just enough to put a little more space between you and theodore, as if distance could quiet the flutter in your chest.

DAY 062:

theo had a bad habit of leaving his hoodies at your place, and you had a worse habit of stealing them. one beautiful day, he walked in to find you curled up on the couch in his sweatshirt, the sleeves swallowing your hands.

he wasn't mad. in fact, he found you incredibly sexy in his hoodie. the dark green brought out your curves, making him want to bend you over the kitchen counter. rather than, he crosses his arms against the doorway, "s’that my hoodie?" he asks.

your lovely face stretched into a small smile as you peeked up at him innocently. “no.” he laughed, walking over and tugging at the sleeve. “really? looks suspiciously like the one i lost last week.”

you remembered it vividly, actually. it was after the two of you had showered together: not the kind where he stopped midway just to fuck you on the carpet, but a simple, normal shower; where there was nothing sexual. just him gently massaging shampoo into your hair while you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close as the warm water dripped around you both. “finders keepers.”

he contracted his eyes before flopping onto the couch beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “fine,” he sighed. “but if you keep stealing my clothes, i might have to start stealing yours.”

you chuckled. “i’d pay to see you in my clothes.” and that’s exactly how, the very next day, you walked in on theodore lounging in one of your oversized pink sweaters, a smug grin on his face.

you laughed so fucking hard you nearly lost your balance, doubling over before launching yourself at him. with tickles, you tried to get your revenge, giggling uncontrollably until he turned the tables, grabbing you and attacking with a burst of kisses all over your face, leaving you breathless between your laughter.

for days on end, everything felt perfect. doubts would creep in occasionally, but they always disappeared the moment theodore got lost in you — and you in him.

it was fun. the two of you would hang out every day, visit different shops just to be near each other, and even go out to eat or simply stroll around hand in hand. you'd always get him to pose for a picture with your polaroid camera, the kind that prints photos on the spot. one time, at the beach during sunset, you asked a stranger to take a picture of you both kissing.

when you wanted to have fun at bars, you'd let loose, getting completely drunk and dancing without a care whenever a song played.

on other days, he only focused on giving you bliss, consuming you completely and making you feel every inch of him. whether pressed against the shower wall, at the edge of the bed, on the carpet, or even in the dresser. it didn't matter to him; all he cared about was having you wrap your legs around his waist and feeling himself within you.

but then, on day three hundred and five, something changed. the warmth stayed, but the space between you began to pull, unnoticeable at first, until the distance became impossible to ignore.

DAY 310:

theodore noticed it before you even realized what you were doing. the way your texts became shorter, the way your laughter didn’t come as easily, how you leaned away when he tried to pull you closer. it was fine at first, but now, it was questionable.

tonight, he had invited you over, hoping to shake the strange distance that had settled between you. he had picked up your favorite snacks, queued up a movie you once swore was ‘the only thing that could make a bad day better.’

but nothing worked.

you sat curled up at the far end of the couch, staring at your phone instead of the screen. your responses were dry, your smiles small, and every time he tried to meet your gaze, you looked away.

“you know, if i didn’t know any better,” theo started, a teasing lilt in his voice, “i’d think you were getting bored of me.” theo never really knew how to confront someone he cared about and tell them how their actions were making him feel. he hated confrontation, so the only way he felt he could address it was through humor.

you barely reacted, just hummed vaguely. nails tapping sharply against your phone screen.

his smirk faltered. “right, i get it, you’re too cool for me now,” he tried again, nudging your foot lightly with his own. “have i been replaced? do i need to fight someone for my spot?”

“not in the mood, theo,” you muttered, still not looking up. lately, you never seemed to be in the mood, which felt weird to him. you'd never been overly affectionate, but you always showed interest when he spoke. now, it was as if you were there, but not really present.

the playfulness in his eyes dimmed, but he pushed forward. “tell me what’s going on, then. you’ve been—” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. as much as he wanted to understand what was going on, he didn't want to make you angry. he knew a conversation wouldn’t get anywhere if one person was upset. “different. distant.”

“nothing’s going on,” you said too quickly.

“right.” he leaned back on the couch, folding his arms. “so you just suddenly decided to stop talking to me like a normal person for no reason?”

you sighed, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. you didn’t want to do this. you didn’t want to explain the mess in your head, how everything felt overwhelming, how you could feel yourself pulling away and didn’t know how to stop it. how it was easier to create distance than risk needing him too much.

“i just have a lot on my mind,” you said finally. “and you couldn’t tell me that?” his voice was gentler now, but there was a thread of frustration beneath it.

“it’s not a big deal.”

“it is a big deal if it’s making you act like this.” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t get it. i’m here, i’m trying, and it feels like you’re just — pushing me away.”

you weren't sure what to say. it wasn't that you didn’t want to talk; you simply wanted to enjoy a movie in silence, with the occasional glance at your phone. you hadn't come here for a conversation, otherwise, you wouldn't have come at all.

you did what you do best, got up and said, "i'll be back." this was what you did; walk away when real emotions start to arise — so good at giving him nothing.

DAY 335:

“m’sorry, m’sorry,” you murmured as theodore lay behind you, spooning you tightly. one hand gripped the pillow beneath your head while the other rested on your hip, moving in and out of you. the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming, making apologies spill from your lips, remembering the way you had treated him.

“i accept it—mhm... i’ll always fuckin’ accept it,” theodore whispered into your ear. lying on your side, you couldn't align your lips with his, so you settled for biting your bottom lip as he left fat, dark hickeys all over you, while your wet walls embraced him.

your back arched off of his chest as you let out a low squeal. although the sound felt both loud and embarrassing, you buried your face in the pillow. no matter how you felt, theodore always knew how to make you feel incredible. like that distant itch finally being scratched, bringing you a sensation that felt nothing short of heavenly.

even as he slipped his hand into your hair and pulled gently, the slight pain at your scalp was pleasurable. “so good, so fucking good…” you felt embarrassed by how loud you were, but you couldn't help it. amidst the overwhelming thoughts swirling in your mind, this was a different kind of release. a much-needed stress relief.

you both didn't even bother to fully undress; your shorts and underwear were bunched down to your knees, your bra unclasped, while your shirt was twisted up to your collarbones.

“mm... faster,” you gasped, even though theodore was already thrusting at a fast pace. but this was finally pulling you away from the chaos in your mind. utterly lost in the feeling, theodore complies, willing to do anything for you. he gives it his all; everything he has. “take it, take it, take it,” he urges.

DAY 340:

theodore’s excitement was noticeable from the moment you stepped into the vinyl shop. the bell above the door jingled, announcing your arrival, and he strode in like he owned the place, like he had been waiting all day for this. blue eyes excitedly darting from shelf to shelf, fingers wriggling with the need to sift through the collection.

“i’ve been meaning to bring you back here,” he said, a grin playing at the edges of his lips as he ran his hands along the spines of stacked records. “there’s so much i didn’t get to show you last time.”

you didn’t respond. you barely even looked at him. your arms remained crossed, your expression neutral. your shoulders were squared, posture stiff. that was the difference between you and theodore — he practically bounced on his feet with enthusiasm.

“oh! you have to see this one.” theo grabbed a record off the shelf and turned to you, holding it out like some grand discovery. the cover was a faded blue with worn edges, an old jazz album that you might’ve cared about once. his eyes flashed with excitement, waiting for your reaction.

you glanced at it for half a second before replying, “cool. y’should get it.”

his grin faltered, just slightly, before he covered it up with a forced chuckle. “okay, maybe not your style, but wait, what about this?” he reached for another one, something more in line with your usual taste. he flipped the cover over, tapping the tracklist like he was revealing some hidden jewel.

you met his gaze. “it’s fine.”

silence hung between you for a second too long. he blinked, clearly waiting for more — some indication that you were even remotely interested, that you were happy to be here with him. but you weren’t going to give him that.

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “okay, tough crowd today.” he moved down the aisle, pretending like he wasn’t rattled. “oh, now this, this is one of my favorites.” he plucked another vinyl from the shelf, turning toward you with that same boyish excitement that should’ve made your chest tighten. “i swear, if you actually listen to this one, you’d—”

“i don’t need the sales pitch, theodore.” your voice was bland, cutting through his eagerness. his smile disappeared completely this time. “i’m just trying to share something with you.”

you let out a slow breath, keeping your expression impassive. “and i’m just here to get what i came for. that’s it.”

he looked at you then. the way your lips pressed into a thin line, the way your arms stayed crossed like a barrier between you both, the way your eyes didn’t hold the warmth they used to.

“right,” he muttered. he put the vinyl back on the shelf a little too carefully, like he suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands. you turned away from him, moving towards the counter to find what you actually came for. behind you, you could hear him shift his weight, debating whether to keep trying or to just let it be.

DAY 370:

theodore thought you brought him here to fix things. it was written all over his face; the slight hope in his eyes, the way his hands fidgeted with his coffee cup, like he truly believed this conversation would bring you both back to where you used to be. but as you sat across from him, staring at the swirling foam in your untouched drink, you knew that wasn’t going to happen.

you took a breath and said it. “i think we should stop seeing each other.”

the change in his expression was instant. you hesitated to look up, knowing that eye contact had never been your strong suit. you were certain that meeting his gaze would only make everything feel worse.

his fingers tightened around his cup, body stiffening like he’d just been blindsided. “what?”

you swallowed hard but kept your voice steady. “this thing we’re doing… it’s not normal.” it’s not. and it’s been chewing at you, consuming your thoughts for so long. you liked liking theodore, enjoying his presence, talking to him. but you hated when he started acting like a boyfriend instead of a friend. you noticed the jealousy in his eyes when other men talked to you, the way he’d get upset when you mentioned other friends, and how he’d always want to know where you were when you weren’t with him. but you don’t have the right to feel this way, because you’re the one who’s been leading him on: kissing him, touching him, being way too damn intimate. you just want it all to stop.

theodore let out a short, disbelieving laugh. in no way, shape, or form did he find this conversation funny, but as usual, he couldn’t take anything seriously. he always had to brush it off with a joke. “since when do you care about what’s normal?”

“i just…” you exhaled. “i think we’re forcing something that isn’t working.”

his brows furrowed. “that’s not true.”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. you hated that phrase. every time someone says, ‘that's not true,’ while you're expressing your feelings, it blows your mind. who do they think they are, deciding that what you feel isn’t how you feel? “theo—”

“no,” he cut you off, leaning forward. “yeah, we argue, but that doesn’t mean we’re not good together. we fight because we care. that’s what people do when they give a fuck.”

"that's exactly what i don’t want! look at us, arguing because we care! look at everyone staring at us like we’re crazy just because we care!" you shook your head, your voice lowering. "it shouldn’t be this hard all the time."

“it’s only hard because you make it hard,” he shot back. “you pull away, you shut me out, and then you tell me we don’t work. how the fuck is that fair?”

you looked down, your throat tightening. “i’m just trying to be honest.” the last thing you wanted was for frustrated tears to spill from your eyes: that’s the absolute last thing you needed, especially with people watching.

“honest?” he scoffed. “or just looking for another excuse to run?” run. you always ran when things got too complicated, when feelings you despised started to settle in your chest, tightening your throat as if it were closing in around you, threatening to suffocate you. you hated it. you hated it. you hated it.

before you could respond, a barista hesitantly stepped up to the table. “um… would you like anything else?”

theodore let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. the chair he had been sitting in creaked loudly as he stood up, drawing even more attention as people turned to look. the lady's eyes widened as theo brushed past her.

you couldn’t let him leave, not without a proper goodbye. your chest clenched. “theodore, don’t go. you’re still my best friend!” you blurted out, desperation slipping into your voice. his lips parted, for the smallest moment. then, jaw clenched, he shook his head slightly and walked away, leaving you sitting there.

theodore wasn’t the same after that night. it was like something inside him had been ripped out, leaving behind a hollowed out version. the change wasn’t instant, it crept in slowly, as if it were bleeding; staining everything in its path.

at first, they believed he’d snap out of it. mattheo, draco, pansy, blaise, and lorenzo each tried in their own way to pull him out from under whatever dark cloud had settled over him. mattheo cracked even more stupid jokes than usual, draping an arm around theo’s shoulders and dragging him into conversations he clearly didn’t want to be part of. draco would do something ridiculous, like tickling his foot, just to get some kind of reaction (which resulted in a foot to the face a moment later). pansy made excuses for his behavior when others asked why he seemed so distant, why he was never around anymore. blaise and lorenzo brought him drinks, snuck him out to parties, and even placed bets on how long it would take before he’d start acting like himself again.

but none of it worked. theodore was a ghost in his own skin, moving through the days like he was wading through a wide murk. he barely spoke unless he had to, barely ate unless someone reminded him. his usual charisma now felt forced. the man who had once carried himself with such cool confidence now looked like he was constantly on the verge of collapse, as if his thoughts were too heavy to carry; like having just finished a brutal workout and still being expected to run a marathon.

theo never thought the saying “life’s only worth living if someone’s loving you” could be so painfully true. but was it really love?

no. someone who truly loved him wouldn’t drag him along for so long just to throw him away like trash, while you act as the waste collector.

it didn’t take much to set him off: one wrong look, one thoughtless comment, one whisper that he misinterpreted. one second he’d be silent, and the next, he’d be lunging at some poor bastard, his temper burning through his veins like wildfire. there was one thing about wildfires: you either extinguish them carefully or let them spread. and your absence made the fire grow, until everything theodore touched felt like it was burning in his hands.

mattheo had to intervene when theo nearly broke someone’s nose at work because they had laughed a little too loudly at something he mistook for mockery. even blaise, the most patient of them all, ended up in a screaming match with him one night after telling him to “get over it.”

“you think i want to be like this?” theodore had snapped harshly. “you think i wake up every fucking morning and choose to feel like this?”

enzo was the only one who never pushed too hard. instead, he sat beside theodore when he needed it, offering quiet companionship rather than empty reassurances. but even enzo, as patient as he was, couldn’t bring back the light in theodore’s eyes.

nott thought this heartbroken feeling would only last a few days, maybe a few weeks. you never even dated, so surely, sure-fucking-ly, it wouldn’t hurt for this long.

130 days.

130 days of waking up to the same crushing emptiness, of drowning in memories he didn’t know how to escape.

130 days of avoiding certain places, certain people, because even the smallest reminder felt like a knife in his ribs.

130 days of pretending it didn’t hurt. and on day 500, he realized what he felt was certain: how he truly felt about you was final.

═════════════

THEODORE HATES the way your presence makes him feel, even when you're not around. like the scent of coconut on his sheets; he hates being reminded of you, of how you’d sleep in his bed, make him feel good, make him feel like he mattered. he's consumed by how your eyes hold an entire forest, pulling him in and leaving him lost. that’s what you do, isn’t it? you make him lose himself, hoping he could somehow find his way out.

he hates the way your lips curl around his name, filled with lies, how effortlessly you fed him one lie after another. he hates the softness of your voice when it’s just the two of you, knowing it meant nothing, friends don’t speak to each other like that.

he hates the way you touched him, how he can still feel your soft kisses on his neck, your moans muffled against his skin. he hates how your fingers would trace the back of his ear when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, because now, every time he remembers it, he flinches away.

god, he hates you. he hates you so much. he really fucking hates you.

[lazyahhshifter]

The Only Exception

Theodore Nott,, Harry Potter

Summary: Theodore Nott x Class Clown-Fem¡Reader,, Theodore hates everyone but her, Theodore cannot stand hearing anyone ramble but her. She was the only exception, except she never knew.

TW: Sexual Innuendos,, Miscommunication,, Slight Angst

Based off "The Only Exception" by Paramore

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Theodore Nott hated noise. He hated crowded hallways, loud conversations, and the never-ending nonsense that filled the air of Hogwarts. Every word spoken around him felt like a personal offense, an intrusion on the quiet he so desperately craved.

Except for her.

She was insufferable in every way he should have hated. Always cracking jokes, always pulling pranks, always the center of attention with that infuriating, dazzling grin. She talked—constantly. To her friends, to her professors, to the portraits on the walls. And Merlin, did she love to ramble.

Yet, Theo never seemed to mind.

He’d sit in Potions, pretending to ignore the way she went off on tangents about the absurdity of Gillyweed’s texture. He’d roll his eyes in the Great Hall when she dramatically reenacted failed spells, but he’d never actually tell her to stop. He’d scoff when she nudged him in the ribs with some ridiculous joke, but she never saw the way his lips twitched, betraying the smirk he was fighting to hide.

She never noticed.

She never noticed that while Theodore Nott found everyone else unbearable, he never once told her to shut up. She never noticed that while her voice usually earned exasperated sighs from others, it was the only sound he actually liked.

And maybe she never would.

Maybe he’d spend the rest of his years at Hogwarts pretending not to care, pretending her laugh didn’t make the world seem a little less dull. Maybe she’d always see him as the brooding Slytherin with an eternal scowl, and he’d never get the nerve to tell her that she was the only thing keeping him sane in this insufferable school.

But then again, maybe one day, she’d finally notice the way he listened just a little too closely when she spoke.

Charms class was always a disaster for Theodore. Between the endless chatter, the endless mistakes, and the constant interruptions, it was a miracle he ever learned anything. Yet today, he found himself less bothered by the chaos—at least, less bothered than usual.

You were, as usual, the center of attention.

“Honestly, how does she do it?” Mattheo Riddle muttered from across the room, eyeing you as you dramatically struggled to levitate a feather. “She’s always so loud and all over the place. How does anyone take her seriously?”

Theo kept his eyes focused on the instructor, pretending to give his full attention to Professor Flitwick’s instructions. But in truth, his attention was on you, as you giggled, muttering under your breath about how feathers were apparently the most rebellious thing in the world.

“Yeah,” Draco Malfoy added, his voice dripping with distaste. “She’s such a nuisance. It’s like she thinks everything’s a joke. Can’t even do one spell properly.”

Theo’s fingers tightened around his wand, but he didn’t look up, not yet. He just couldn’t stand it when they talked about you like that. They didn’t know you, not really. They didn’t understand the way you filled the room with an energy that kept things from feeling suffocating.

“She’s… harmless,” Theo muttered, barely loud enough for them to hear, but enough that Mattheo raised an eyebrow at him.

Draco snorted. “Harmless? The girl can’t stop talking long enough to actually focus on anything. I bet if she didn’t crack a joke every two seconds, she might actually be decent at Charms.”

Theo’s eyes flicked over to you again. You were now trying to juggle multiple feathers with ridiculous concentration, completely unaware of the mocking looks and snide comments being aimed at you.

“She’s entertaining,” Theo said, his voice almost too casual, as though he hadn’t just spoken up. “Better than the dull ones in this room.”

Mattheo raised his eyebrows, smirking. “Theodore Nott defending the class clown? You really are full of surprises.”

Theo shot a pointed look at Mattheo. “I don’t see why everyone’s so uptight. She’s not hurting anyone.”

Draco scoffed. “She’s annoying, Theo. Even you can’t deny that.”

Theo wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he leaned back in his chair, attempting to act disinterested. “Maybe you’re just not paying attention,” he said coolly, his eyes back on you. “Maybe the noise she makes isn’t all bad.”

There was a beat of silence. Mattheo and Draco exchanged a glance, and Theo could feel their eyes on him now, but he refused to budge.

“Right,” Draco said with a smirk. “Guess we’ll just let you keep your little crush on the loudest person in the room.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

You, meanwhile, had successfully levitated all the feathers at once, your eyes wide in triumph. “Ha! Take that, gravity!” you cheered loudly, grinning as the feathers danced mid-air.

Theo smirked slightly, watching you. Yeah, maybe they didn’t get it. But she wasn’t the annoying one. They were.

“Guess that’s her charm,” Theo said, more to himself than anyone else, as he turned his attention back to the lesson.

Theo was making his way down the corridor, his mind still on the way his friends had been talking about you. He’d tried to shake it off, but it was starting to eat at him—especially since, despite their constant mocking, he didn’t actually mind you being loud. You weren’t annoying. You were refreshing, in your own way.

That’s when it happened.

He wasn’t looking where he was going, and suddenly he collided with someone—you.

“Ow,” you muttered, stepping back with a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to get someone’s attention.”

Theo blinked, his shoulder throbbing a little from the impact. He looked at you, and of course, you looked entirely unbothered, a grin tugging at your lips.

“You really need to stop running into me,” Theo said dryly, rubbing his shoulder, though he was far from irritated.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to avoid running into people when they move like they’re trying to be a shadow.”

Theo shot you a look, his lips twitching, but he quickly masked it with his usual cool expression. “I’m not trying to be a shadow. I just don’t have the urge to knock into people in hallways.”

“Mm, fair,” you said, casually brushing off your robe as if nothing had happened. “But it’s not every day I get to bump into Mr. Mysterious. Should I be honored?”

He raised an eyebrow, his posture still stiff, but you could tell he wasn’t as unaffected as he tried to appear. “If you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, it’s not working.”

You chuckled at that, crossing your arms. “I’m not trying. You just make it so easy.”

Theo narrowed his eyes slightly, resisting the urge to smirk. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than annoy me.”

“Annoy you?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Please, I’m just trying to have a normal conversation with you. You’re the one who makes everything sound like a challenge.”

He almost cracked a smile, but he caught himself just in time. “I don’t make anything sound like a challenge. You just make it sound… loud.”

“Oh, I’m loud now?” You leaned in slightly, grinning mischievously. “Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention, Theo. I’ve been known to be very quiet when it counts.”

Theo shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to maintain his usual stoic demeanor. “You? Quiet? Yeah, right.”

“Hey, I’m full of surprises,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you should probably watch where you’re walking next time. You wouldn’t want to ruin your perfectly good reputation by colliding with me again.”

He rolled his eyes, not quite managing to hide the small smile that was tugging at his lips. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

You gave him a playful wink before turning to leave. “Good talk, Nott. Don’t work too hard on that brooding thing. You’re getting a little rusty.”

Theo watched you walk away, something that resembled amusement flickering in his chest. He hated to admit it, but there was something about the way you could turn his whole mood around without even trying.

But then again, you were the exception.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual lunchtime chaos, but for once, you didn’t feel like adding to it. Normally, you'd be joking with your friends, making them laugh, or launching into some ridiculous story about the latest thing that had gone wrong in your life. But today, as you sat down with your plate of food, your gaze kept drifting across the room to where Theodore Nott was sitting at the Slytherin table.

He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. He was just eating, quietly, his eyes fixed on his plate. He always seemed so calm, so detached from the noise around him. His posture was perfect, his movements deliberate, and everything about him screamed control—something you couldn’t seem to grasp no matter how hard you tried.

As your friends laughed at some offhand comment, you found herself zoning out, focusing on the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, the way his lips pressed together when he was deep in thought. You had always admired that about him, that quiet intensity that never seemed to fade, no matter how chaotic the world around him got.

For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to be like him—to be able to sit in a room full of people and not feel the need to fill the silence. To just exist without the pressure of having to constantly make people laugh, make them notice her.

What would it be like to be… quieter?

Your gaze shifted back to your plate, where your fork poked at a piece of chicken, but you barely noticed it. Instead, your mind was stuck on the thought that always seemed to haunt you whenever she was near Theodore..if I were quieter, maybe he’d notice me.

You tried to picture it—what it would be like to sit next to him, to speak in a voice that wasn’t filled with energy and excitement. To be calm, collected, just like him. Maybe then you could have a real conversation. A real connection.

But as soon as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away. You hated how self-conscious it made you feel. You hated how you constantly found herself thinking you weren't enough.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. What if?

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you'd been holding. Maybe it wasn’t about changing yourself. Maybe it was just about being seen for who you are, loud, messy, and completely yourself. Maybe it was okay to be this way, even if you didn’t always get it right.

Your eyes flicked back to Theodore across the room, just as he glanced up, catching your own gaze for a brief moment.

For a second, time seemed to slow down. He didn’t look at you with annoyance. He didn’t look at you like you were the source of all the noise.

The party was loud. Too loud.

Theo had known it would be, but somehow, it still managed to be worse than he expected. Music pounded through the walls, people shouted over each other, and the air was thick with the scent of firewhisky and cheap cologne. He should have never let Mattheo drag him here.

So, naturally, he disappeared.

He found an empty room at the end of the hall, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. The noise outside was muffled now, and he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Finally. Silence.

Or at least, he thought so.

Because just as he turned toward the dimly lit space, the door creaked open again, and in walked you.

You barely noticed him at first, too focused on rummaging through a pile of blankets on the bed. “Merlin, why do purebloods have such thick duvets? I just need something light.”

Theo leaned against the wall, watching as you huffed in frustration. “You do realize this isn’t a linen closet, right?”

At the sound of his voice, you froze. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes widening slightly when you saw him standing there. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

You straightened, letting go of the blanket you’d been holding. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.”

“Neither was I,” Theo said, his voice as dry as ever. “But here we are.”

You took a second to glance around, finally noticing the way he seemed to be avoiding the chaos outside. “Needed an escape?”

He didn’t answer right away, but the look on his face said enough.

You smirked. “What, the great Theodore Nott doesn’t enjoy a good party?”

“Not when it’s filled with people who don’t know how to shut up,” he muttered.

You snorted, closing the door behind you as you fully stepped inside. “Then you must hate me.”

Theo looked at you then, really looked at you. Hair slightly messy from the heat of the party, cheeks flushed from whatever drink you’d been nursing downstairs. He tilted his head.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, voice quieter now.

Something in your chest tightened at that.

The room suddenly felt smaller. Warmer.

It didn’t help that you were still buzzing from the firewhisky, the world around you feeling softer at the edges. Theo was standing there, tall and sharp-edged, watching you with that unreadable expression of his, and it sent something electric through your veins.

You took a slow step forward, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes. “No?”

He didn’t move, didn’t look away. “No.”

The space between you disappeared in an instant.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him. Maybe it didn’t matter. All you knew was that one moment there was space, and the next, there was none.

His hands found your waist as your lips crashed together, the kiss hungry and impatient. It was nothing like the usual quiet, restrained Theo you were used to. No, this was different. His fingers gripped at the fabric of your shirt, pulling you closer, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.

Your back hit the edge of the bed as his mouth moved to your jaw, your neck, teeth grazing against your skin just enough to make you shiver. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, and he let out a quiet groan against your throat.

You hadn’t expected this—not tonight, not like this—but Merlin, did it feel good.

“Theo,” you murmured against his lips, breathless.

He hummed in response, his grip on you tightening. “Hmm?”

“You sure you don’t hate me?” you teased, voice laced with amusement despite the way your heart was racing.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark and hooded.

“I told you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours again, slower this time. “You’re the exception.”

It was like it never happened.

The party. The room. The way his hands had gripped your waist, the way your lips had moved together like you’d done it a hundred times before. The way his voice had been quieter, rougher, when he told you that you were the exception.

It was like none of it had happened at all.

Because now, in the bright, unforgiving light of reality, Theodore Nott didn’t look at you. He didn’t talk to you. He didn’t even acknowledge you in the hallways.

And that was fine. It was.

Except it wasn’t.

You weren’t sure what you had expected—Theo was never the kind of person to be open about anything, let alone this. But a part of you had foolishly, stupidly thought that maybe, just maybe, something would be different. That maybe he’d give you a glance in the hallway, a nod in Charms, something.

But instead?

Nothing.

Days passed, then a week, then two, and still, nothing changed. He remained as distant as ever, sitting with his usual crowd, barely speaking unless he had to. And you? You kept doing what you did best—laughing, joking, acting like none of it mattered. Like you hadn’t been thinking about it more than you cared to admit.

But every once in a while, when you weren’t paying attention, you swore you could feel him looking at you. A flicker of something in the corner of your vision. A glance that never lasted long enough to catch. But by the time you turned your head, he was already gone.

Like he was pretending nothing happened.

And so, you did the same. Because if Theo could act like that night had never existed, then so could you.

Theodore Nott wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Avoidance was second nature to him. It was easy. Safer. He had spent years perfecting the art of distance—of keeping people at arm’s length, of never letting anyone in too close. It was the one thing he could control.

So why did it feel like he was losing control now?

Ever since that night, he had been slipping.

It wasn’t even the hookup itself that haunted him—it was her. The way she had looked at him when he told her she was the exception. The way her fingers had tangled in his hair, the way her laugh had still managed to escape between kisses. She hadn’t changed. She was still her—loud, ridiculous, always saying too much, always there.

And that was the problem.

Because Theo had spent years convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone. That he didn’t want anyone. That getting close to people only led to complications, expectations, and disappointments. That caring about someone meant giving them the power to leave.

He didn’t do feelings. He didn’t do attachments.

And yet, here he was, thinking about her more than he should. Wondering what she was thinking. If she was waiting for him to say something. If she even cared that he had been avoiding her since that night.

Because he had been avoiding her. On purpose.

It wasn’t that he regretted it—he didn’t. If anything, that was the problem. He didn’t regret it at all. And that scared him.

So he did what he knew best—he shut down.

He kept his distance, ignored the way his chest tightened every time he heard her laugh in the Great Hall, forced himself not to look at her in class. When she walked past him in the corridors, he kept his face blank, even as something inside him itched to look at her, to say something, anything.

But he couldn’t.

Because if he let himself slip—if he let himself want her—he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.

And Theo didn’t know how to want something without ruining it.

So he stayed silent. Kept his distance. Let her think it meant nothing.

Because pretending he didn’t care was easier than admitting that, for the first time in his life, he did.

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[lazyahhshifter]

me maladaptive daydreaming about the most recent ff i've read (i need psychological attention not an iphone)

[lazyahhshifter]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Theodore’s devotion might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.

(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)

mdni 18+

Theodore Nott 

6’4 | He’s taller than Mattheo, and yes, he lords it over him (quietly, of course, because Theo is above petty behavior… unless it’s funny).

Lean, but don’t be fooled—this man is cut. He’s that deadly kind of fit where you don’t notice at first because he’s always wearing loose sweaters and looking like a poetry major. But the second the sleeves roll up? Oh. My. God. Veins for DAYS, hands strong enough to snap a wand in half (or your will to argue).

He doesn’t work out. Like, ever. He’s just naturally like this. Probably from lugging around all those dark magic books and the emotional weight of his trauma (we love a man with issues!).

(He could choke you with one hand while quoting Dante and your ghost would thank him. RESPECTFULLY!)

Has that sleepy, “don’t bother me, I’m too cool for this” kind of vibe. Until he’s pissed, and suddenly it’s quiet rage central. A single glare from him could silence an entire Great Hall—and probably has.

His abs? Unfair. They’re there, but in the casual, effortless way that makes you want to cry because why do they look that good without trying? If you’re lucky enough to see him shirtless (bless your soul), you’ll be rethinking your life decisions.

Quidditch player energy without ever actually playing. His thing? Sitting in the stands, sipping black coffee, and judging everyone while looking hot.

"YOU WANNA KNOW IF I’D FOLLOW THEODORE INTO A CURSED FOREST AT MIDNIGHT JUST BECAUSE HE SAID SO??? THE ANSWER IS YES. I’D GO, NO QUESTIONS ASKED."

You think he’s calm and controlled until you see him in a duel, and suddenly he’s throwing hexes like he’s possessed. It’s giving “do-not-poke-the-bear” energy, and it’s hot.

His smirk? Criminal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you forget how to breathe for a second and then hate yourself because he definitely knows the effect it has on people.

“Mia cara,” he says, and you’re done for. No wand needed. He just obliterated your whole existence.

Theodore Nott | Personality

He’s quiet, but it’s that kind of quiet. The "I could verbally destroy you with a single sentence but choose not to because I have better things to do" kind of quiet.

(WE LOVE A MAN WITH RESTRAINED CHAOS!!! IT’S SO SEXY!!!)

His reputation is split down the middle. People either think he’s the chillest guy in Slytherin or they’re low-key terrified of him. There is no in-between. He doesn’t go out of his way to make people uncomfortable, but if you catch his bad side? RIP to you, my friend.

Very composed most of the time, but don’t mistake that for softness. Theo doesn’t raise his voice; he raises his eyebrow. And somehow, that’s worse.

"You really thought that was a good idea? Cute."

Stone-cold when it comes to confrontations. No yelling, no theatrics—just a quiet menace that makes you wish he’d scream at you instead because this is SO MUCH WORSE.

However, if it’s for his friends? Oh, baby, the gloves come off. Someone messes with Mattheo? He’s done. Someone insults you? They’re not showing up to class tomorrow. He’s terrifyingly efficient when it comes to protecting the people he loves.

Doesn’t talk a lot in fights, but his insults are cutting when they come out. And he does it with a smirk that makes you want to both slap him and kiss him.

"What’s the matter? Spellbook too heavy for you? Or is it just that your brain isn’t working?"

Unlike Mattheo, he doesn’t get in trouble for starting fights. Oh no, Theo’s the one who talks his way out of detention, leaving the professors wondering how they ended up apologizing to him.

Let’s be real, Theo has layers. He’s the kind of guy who looks calm and put together on the outside, but his mind? A mess. Overthinks everything, but you’ll never know it because he’s mastered the art of hiding his emotions. (He’s good at this, but it’s also probably why he sleeps like four hours a night.)

Moody, but in a subtle way. You’ll notice when he’s upset because he’ll get even quieter, or start tapping his fingers on the table. He’s not the type to vent about it—he’ll just say “it’s nothing” while his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear it crack.

Theo loves order. He’s a perfectionist and gets mildly stressed when things don’t go according to plan. He doesn’t lose his temper, though—he just sighs dramatically and mutters something in Italian like "Per l’amor del cielo..."

(BILINGUAL KINGS ARE UNFAIR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN INSULT ME IN TWO LANGUAGES?)

A total academic weapon. Not because he tries super hard, but because he’s just naturally brilliant and does the bare minimum to get top marks. He can explain a spell you’ve been struggling with for days in five seconds flat, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Always looks like he’s in control, but put him in social situations? Total disaster. Theo’s not awkward, but he doesn’t do small talk. Half the time, he just nods politely and hopes whoever’s talking gets the hint.

Has the driest sense of humor. He’ll drop a sarcastic one-liner so deadpan you’re not even sure if he’s joking.

"I think your essay was… bold. Choosing to write it in such a confusing way must’ve been a creative choice."

Drinks coffee like it’s water. Black coffee, of course. None of that sugary stuff, though he secretly loves when you make him try your sweet drink.

Doesn’t like parties but goes because the group makes him. He’s the guy sitting on the couch, watching everyone else make fools of themselves while holding a drink he hasn’t touched. (He’s your ride home because you know he’s always sober enough to apparate responsibly.)

Theodore Nott | Boyfriend

Ah, Theodore Nott, the walking paradox of calculated charm and quiet vulnerability. Having him as your boyfriend is like playing chess against a master—except the stakes are your heart, and he already has you in checkmate before you even realize the game started.

Manipulation, Thy Name is Theo:Theodore isn’t one to beg for your love; oh no, he’s too smooth for that. Instead, he’ll make sure you think choosing him was your idea all along.

He’ll subtly nudge you into needing him.

He anticipates your desires before you even say them aloud:

"Thirsty? I grabbed your favorite drink. Tired? Don’t worry, I already finished that essay you were stressing about."

He’s not loud about his possessiveness, but it’s there. You don’t realize it at first, but suddenly, every other guy who tries to get too close to you is either giving you a wide berth or “just happened” to fail their next exam. Coincidence? With Theo, nothing is a coincidence.

(We love a man who’s low-key terrifying but only in a protective way!)

How He Realized He Was in Love:Theo didn’t believe in love. Love was messy, uncontrollable, and entirely too risky for someone who thrived on precision and control. But then you came along, and everything changed.

It was slow at first. He didn’t notice it happening until one day, you smiled at him across the library, and he felt his carefully constructed walls crack.

And then it hit him.

“Merlin, I’m in love with her.”

Of course, Theo didn’t panic outwardly. No, he spent the next week internally spiraling.

"What does this mean?"

"What if she doesn’t feel the same way?"

"How do I tell her without sounding like an idiot?"

Eventually, he decided that subtlety was overrated. One evening, while you were sitting in his dorm, flipping through one of his books, he just said it.

"I love you."

You froze, unsure if you heard him correctly. He didn’t look away, his intense gaze pinning you in place.

"You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know."

Affection, Theo Style:Theo isn’t flashy or over-the-top, but he’s deeply romantic in his own way.

Words of Praise: He’s a master of compliments that don’t feel like compliments until you think about them later.

"You’re too brilliant for this school, you know that?""How do you manage to look stunning even when you’re furious with me?""You’re the only person who’s ever managed to make me lose focus, mia cara."

Subtle Acts of Service: He’s always doing things for you without making a big deal out of it. Your favorite quill broke? There’s a new one on your desk the next day. You’re stressed about a test? He’ll quiz you until you feel confident (and then reward you with a kiss for every right answer).

The Praise Kink Is Real, Babe:Theo doesn’t just praise you to make you feel good. He needs you to know how much he adores you. Whether it’s your intelligence, your kindness, or just the way you look in his sweater, he’s always quick to remind you of your worth.

"You’re too good for me, you know that?" he murmurs against your ear, his hand resting on your hip. "But don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you go."

(Is it hot in here or is it just Theo?)

The Possessiveness Comes Out in Subtle Ways:

At parties, his hand is always resting somewhere on you—your lower back, your shoulder, your thigh. A quiet signal to everyone else: She’s mine.

If someone flirts with you, he doesn’t cause a scene. Instead, he’ll step in with that dangerously calm demeanor, his words laced with thinly veiled threats.

"I believe you’re in my seat." Translation: Touch her again, and you’ll regret it.

Theodore, the Unexpected Softie:For someone so composed, Theo is surprisingly soft when it’s just the two of you.

He loves curling up with you on the couch, one arm draped over your shoulders while he reads aloud from a book he thinks you’d enjoy.

Sleeps with one hand always touching you—your waist, your hand, your hair. It’s the only time he truly relaxes.

Occasionally whispers “I don’t deserve you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

Having Theo as a boyfriend is a rollercoaster of intensity and tenderness. He’s the type to protect you from the world while also making you feel like you’re the center of his universe. And honestly? We’d ride that roller coaster over and over again.

Theodore Nott | Obsessive Devotion

If Mattheo is chaos in bed, Theodore is calculated destruction. Theo doesn’t rush—no, he takes his time. He knows every move, every word, every touch is designed to drive you absolutely insane.

The Slow Burn King:Theo isn’t just about getting you off; he’s about making you beg. He’s not the type to drag you into the nearest broom closet and go at it like a madman. No, Theo prefers to let the tension build—catching your eye across the library with a smirk, his hand brushing yours during dinner, leaning in close to whisper something sinful in your ear when no one else is looking.

"You’re squirming, mia cara. Tell me, what’s on your mind?"

Possessive but Polished:He loves control—holding you still with a firm grip while his mouth works wonders between your thighs. Theo thrives on the sound of your moans and whimpers, each one a confirmation that you belong to him.

But don’t get it twisted: his possessiveness is refined. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops; instead, he’s branding it into your skin with every kiss, every bite, every low growl of, “Mine.”

(We love a man who can ruin our lives with just one look.)

Praise You Like a Goddess:Theo is the king of praise. He’s not subtle about how much he worships you, and he makes sure you know it.

"You’re so perfect, amore mio. I could stay like this forever, just watching you fall apart for me."

He’ll kiss every inch of your skin like it’s holy ground. He’ll tell you how beautiful you are when you’re flushed, trembling, and completely at his mercy.

And if you praise him back? Game over. Tell him he’s a good boy, and suddenly you’ve unlocked the most obedient, eager-to-please version of Theo. He’ll do anything to hear you say it again.

Control with a Dash of Chaos:Theo’s not loud, but his intensity is deafening. He thrives on being in control, but sometimes he loves to break his own rules. If you push him just enough—maybe tease him in public or drag him into a forbidden situation—he’ll snap in the most delicious way.

"You think you can play games with me? Let me show you how this ends, bella."

Experimentation, but Make It Sophisticated:Theo isn’t one to dive into wild kinks without purpose, but he’s creative when it comes to trying new things.

Silk ties? Check.

Blindfolds? Of course.

Whispering Latin endearments in your ear while he has you completely at his mercy? A standard Tuesday night.

And don’t get me started on the way he uses his fingers—this man could write symphonies with how skillfully he plays your body like an instrument.

Stamina for Days:Don’t let his cool demeanor fool you—Theo can and will go for hours. He has the patience to draw out every moment until you’re gasping and begging for release, and then he’ll do it all over again.

"Oh no, dolcezza. We’re not finished yet. Not until I’ve had my fill of you."

Switch Theo = UNLOCKED:Normally, Theo’s the one in control, but when you take charge? When you straddle his hips, grip his jaw, and order him to behave? He’s putty in your hands.

"Tell me what you want, bella. Anything—it’s yours."

And the best part? He loves it. Watching you take what you want from him, hearing you praise him as he falls apart under your touch—it’s enough to drive him to the brink every single time.

In Private, He’s All Yours:While Theo keeps his emotions tightly guarded in public, behind closed doors, he’s all in. He loves to hold you afterward, running his fingers through your hair and whispering sweet nothings as you both come down from the high.

"You’re everything, you know that? My whole world."

Having Theodore Nott as a lover is like being the muse of a masterpiece—every touch, every word, every moment is designed to make you feel like the most desired person on the planet. And honestly? We’re not complaining

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[lazyahhshifter]

How I feel scripting better governments in my DR's

[lazyahhshifter]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x afab!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, nsfw, sub!Theo, choking, oral ( m receiving), unprotected p in v, begging, edging, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, generally very nsfw, all characters are 19+!!! lmk if sth else needs to be tagged, not proofread or edited

Content: established relationship, some angst but it's for the plot I swear, fluff, smut (duh)

WC: 3.5k (i got ever so slightly carried away, oops?)

AN: Been thinking about sub!Theo lately... pls be gentle it's my first time writing extensive smut like this IM NERVOUS AND IF YOU KNOW ME NO YOU DONT/j

bf!Theo who has known control and precision all his life. He bears it all with a blank face, constantly keeping track of every little detail in his life simultaneously to the point you wonder if he's really human or not with the way he withstands the sheer pressure of just existing as himself.

bf!Theo who takes the lead in every situation no matter and seems perfectly content to be the one to dedicate and control how things are, down to the most miniscule detail. Growing up in the Nott family has taught him it's either control or be controlled; he refuses to be the second option ever again.

bf!Theo who seems to not know the word overwhelmed and continues on with his maddingly calculative and meticulous nature long after your Hogwarts days end. His habits and his hardened need for control follow him into adulthood, once he dips his toes into the treacherous waters of the business world.

bf! Theo who works day and night, to the point you worry he'll burn himself out repeatedly but he always just waves the concern off with a half smirk, stating that he got everything under control.

bf!Theo who does have everything under control- until it becomes too much and he starts crumbling under the weight. Missed deadlines here, papers and reports that haven't been handed in yet there, a flurry of complaints and projects that drag his attention out well into the early morning hours. It simply becomes too much and for the first time in his life he doesn't know how to handle it.

bf!Theo who's been holed up at the Nott enterprises for weeks now, only ever catching mere moments to himself before the next thing demands his attention. Meeting after meeting, complaint after complaint. His attention is wearing thin and so is his tolerance. For weeks now you've only managed to catch glimpses of him around your shared apartments. He leaves before you wake and arrives home when you're fast asleep; some days he falls asleep on his desk back in the office and wakes up only to resume working.

bf!Theo who misses you like there's no tomorrow and the moment an opportunity arises he finds himself sprinting home, longing to gaze at your face and spend time with you. When he walks through the door, you're humming along to the music that's playing and with a pang of guilt he realizes he doesn't recognize the song. It's your favourite singer, but a song he assumes is either new or a new favourite of yours and he was much too busy to find out or notice.

bf!Theo who immediately abandons everything he was holding to wrap you in a tight embrace, catching you off guard by his sudden appearance. He doesn't say a word; simply holds you as close as humanly possible and breathes in the scent of you. The scent of home.

bf!Theo who's much too tired to protest when you gently but firmly guide him into your shared bedroom, plopping down obediently on the bed when you gesture for him to take a seat. He watches as you rummage through your dresser, grabbing a few items before you disappear into the bathroom. The whine of protest he's about to let out dies in his throat as soon as he hears the sound of running water, his exhaustion addled brain finally catching up to what you are attempting to do. When you re-enter the bedroom and take his hand, the only thing he can do is follow you and let you guide every movement he makes. You help him out of his clothes before watching him sink into the filled bathtub.

bf!Theo who lets out the tiniest sound of relief at the sensation of warm water lapping against his tense muscles, slowly letting his body relax and the tension seeps out of him. He closes his eyes, relishing every second of attention and care you pour into carding through his hair as you lather it up to wash it. He's almost reluctant to get out of the bathtub after you finish your massaging and washing, but does it anyway at the promise of spending time together.

bf!Theo who melts into your touch when you dry his hair for him, sounds of satisfaction and sighs of relief echoing in your room the entire time. When you're done, he tugs you down to lay with him and for once he doesn't protest when you coax him into laying on your chest, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck as you continue to gently scratch his scalp.

bf!Theo who hums happily when you begin telling him about your day -days really, he hasn't had the chance to talk to you in forever- in hushed soothing whispers. He's positive he could fall asleep right there and then with how relaxed and at ease he feels, his mind quiet for the first time in forever. It's almost like he's wrapped in cotton, all sounds and sensation muffled by a soft warm layer that is only penetrated by the sound and feel of you.

bf!Theo who whines when your hand begins rubbing tiny circles across his back, moving lower and lower until it rests on his tailbone. You're not doing it on purpose, he's sure of it, but his body and mind are just so sensitive and wound up from weeks of stress and loneliness, they react to you all by themselves.

bf!Theo who just about chokes when he feels your lips grazing his ear in a gentle kiss, your whispered "Does this feel okay, darling?" sending him into a frenzied state. The only thing he can manage is a weak nod, his grip around your stomach tightens with every touch on his back. His undoing however is when you slip your hands under his sweater, caressing his skin as if he's your most prized possession you're too scared to break. His shuddering breathes draw out an amused giggle out of you, and for a moment you consider teasing him. You withdraw your hand, just for a moment, and his protest is instant. He looks up at you, ocean eyes wide and pleading, so out of character for your usual self assured lover. So of course, you oblige him with no hesitation, all too excited to explore this new side of him. You utilize both of your hands now, using them to draw patterns and trace muscles across his back and stomach and you're rewarded with the sweetest sounds you could ever imagine. Anytime you stop, he nudges his nose against your throat, silently asking for more until his writhing under your touch, squirming when your cold fingers skim the particularly sensitive skin of his waist.

bf!Theo who feels his mind cloud with desire and arousal, but his mouth just won't cooperate with him to express that. All he can do is let out choked whimpers and sighs from the torturous ministrations, and perhaps you might be salvation in human form because you cradle his face, catching his gaze sympathetically as your thumbs ghost along the apples of his cheeks. "Do you want to continue my love, or would you rather we stop and cuddle?" you ask sweetly, your voice levelled with so much affection he thinks he might dissolve on the spot. It takes a few seconds for him to answer, but when he does it's an enthusiastic yes. You don't give him the time to try to take the lead now, you push him off your chest gently before flipping him onto his back, your legs straddling his waist as you peer down at him with a grin. Perhaps it's the exhaustion or that stupor he finds himself in, but his movements are sluggish and the inability to coordinate his body the way he usually would weighs him down. You don't mind one bit however, already dead set on taking care of him tonight in every way possible. Your hands tug his sweater upwards over his head, the soft thud when it lands against the floor almost imperceptible when his breathing is growing more erratic with every second.

sub!Theo who's not quite sure how to wrap his mind around the current situation. You've taken charge in the bedroom before of course, but it had always been him who held the higher ground, who let you take control but still held the reins no matter what. When the cool air hits his exposed skin, the goose bumps that appear across his arms and chest are brought on by the reality of how utterly vulnerable he is right now. You don't fail to take notice of it though, quietly reaching down to caress his face. "It's okay, I'll take care of you yeah?" he can only manage a subtle nod, his pride hindering him from giving you a vocal answer. That doesn't last particularly long however, not when your hands are roaming every inch of his body, pinching and soothing the skin in the most sensitive spots. It's a delight to your ears, witnessing your boyfriend so vocal and at your mercy, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if this is how he feels when he has you under him.

sub!Theo who can only manage a strained gasp when you snap the elastic band of his sweatpants, his hips bucking up involuntarily, almost like he's begging you to take them off. And like you promised, you make sure to take care of him by pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. He kicks his feet in an attempt to help you get rid of them, but your hand on his thigh stills all movements. "Keep them there, it's okay," you note, your eyes glued on his erect dick. You slowly inch down, lowering yourself until your mouth is ghosting over the weeping angry red tip.

sub!Theo who lets out the most delicious moan you've ever heard when your tongue licks tentatively at it, his sensitivity at an all time high from how long he'd denied himself any sort of release in favor of getting work done. With one last glance cast towards him, you open your mouth and take his entire length into your throat, your tongue flat against the thick vein on the underside that you knew drove him crazy. He twitches underneath you, hips bucking from the sudden flurry of sensations but you're firm in your decision to keep the reins in your hand this time. Both of your hands dig into the muscle of his hips, holding them down with enough pressure you know will bring forth bruises tomorrow, but neither of you would mind. For a second, you release his dick from the confines of your mouth, long enough for you to glare at him. "Don't move," you say sternly, and when he doesn't give you a verbal answer, you dig your nails lightly into his skin. "I want an answer, Theo," you were playing cruel, you knew that, but you wanted to be sure he could play along to the tune you set. When you hear a strangled "Yes," you return to your task of giving him the mind numbing pleasure he deserves.

sub!Theo who's trying his best to be still when your head is bobbing up and down, sucking and licking like there's no tomorrow. He's convinced you're to get revenge for something he's done to anger you, because the pace you set is a constant switch between torturously slow and agonizingly fast. He falls apart around your mouth, letting out a string of incoherent and muffled noises at your unpredictable pace. The warmth of your mouth around him drives him positively crazy and he finds himself getting closer and closer with every second. He feels the pleasure build up and coil tighter in his abdomen, and just as he's about to be driven over the edge, you cease all movement and completely still around him.

sub!Theo who lets out a pathetically loud whine at the sudden loss of stimulation, his eyes glossing over from sheer frustration. It doesn't help that you remove your mouth with a lewdly loud pop! finally meeting his heated gaze with an innocent smile. You straddle his waist once more, completely ignoring his twitching dick just a few inches below you and coo at the pitiful expression he dons. "Awww, did my baby wanna cum on my lips?" you ask with faux sympathy. He knows you're mocking him, and that sends a jolt through him that goes straight to his painfully hard dick. He's not used to being on the receiving end of mockery and torture, and a small part of him is horrified at how much he enjoys it. That part however is much too weak to fight against the rest of him; the part that wants you to give him more.

sub!Theo who pouts when you laugh at him, torn between trying to finish the job himself or putting himself through more of the torture. He doesn't have to make a decision however, or rather the ability to do so is taken away from him like much of his independence tonight. You lean forward, one hand clutching his shoulder gently and the other wraps itself around his throat loosely, nowhere near enough for it to be actually restrictive, but the weight of it does all the work. His breath hitches ever so slightly, his pupils widening when he stares up at you with lustful anticipation. "C'mon, use your words darling," you taunt him, tightening your grip ever so slightly, "Aren't you always so talkative? What happened? Too horny to think straight?"

sub!Theo who struggles to find the words, sentences coming out in a blabbering mess that prompts another condescending laugh at the state an unfinished blowjob left him. "Please?" he brings out, his voice breaking when your thumb skims along his pulse point. "Please what, Theo? I want a full sentence sweetheart," you drawl, and it takes everything in him to remain still and stare into your eyes. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and the burning shame that pools in the pits of his stomach only adds fuel to his arousal. "Please- I wanna cum so bad, amore," the last remains of his pride go straight through the window when your hand curls around his throat in a tight grip, not enough to bruise, but enough to restrict his breathing. He doesn't know if the dizziness is from the sudden lack of oxygen or the way you hum, satisfied to know you've broken him into a malleable mess.

sub!Theo who almost cums at the sight of you quickly discarding your clothes, the urgency in your moves spurring his anticipation. He stills completely when you position your cunt just above his cock, watching as you run your fingers through your soaked folds. The soft sighs you let you above him sound like music to his ears. He oh so desperately wants to feel you around him, but he remains patient and waits for you to do whatever you want to him. His impatience grows however, when you sink two fingers into your dripping entrance, your head thrown back into a quiet moan that he wishes would be because of his cock and not your fingers. It's almost like he's become invisible beneath you, and so he begins to stir. "Patience," you mumble under your breath "Just a bit- ah- just a bit more."

sub!Theo who can't help his reflexes when you finally sink onto his dick, inch after inch buried into your slick pussy. His hands fly up to grab your hips, but you smack them away before he has a chance to feel your skin. "Hands above your head if you want me to continue," you warn sharply, pleased with the way he immediately obeys the command. As if to reward him for his behaviour, you lean forward ever so slightly, the change of angle pleasurable for the both of you, and steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other wrapped around his throat once more. The delightful squeeze matches the way your pussy clenches around him, sending his body into overdrive. He doesn't think it could somehow become worse, but when you finally begin to move your hips up and down with practiced ease, squeezing your hand in the same rhythm, all be can do is moan and whimper helplessly. His arms twitch, much too eager to grab onto something to brave the stimulation, but he finds nothing and lays there unable to move.

sub!Theo who goes blank the moment praise starts spilling from your lips. "Fuck you feel so good baby, fillin' me up so we'll," you moan, lost in the haze of pleasure. That's what breaks the camels back, the tears he'd worked hard to hold back at first spill from his beautiful eyes and the sigh stuns you enough to halt for a moment. With renewed vigour, you begin to quicken your pace in the way you knew he liked it, the stimulation driving him mad with want. The sigh of him helplessly writhing and crying beneath you, yet holding on because he wanted to do what you asked, is an incredible turn on; one that has you spilling praise like it's a rushing stream of water. "Ah- fuck you like letting me ride you like this? Like the way I'm making you cry like a bitch? Fuck I wish you could see how pretty you look like this," between your words, your unrelenting pace, the feel of your walls tightening around him and the lack of oxygen he finds himself catapulted to the edge, almost tipping over unexpectedly.

sub!Theo who lets out broken moans and whines while he tells you he's close, his entire body twitching with the need for release but he's holding back, waiting for you to let him cum. "Just a bit, can ya do that for me sweet boy?" you ask, sweat coating your skin as you keep your pace, feeling that familiar throbbing tightness in your belly. He nods frantically, blinking the tears away as he willed his breathing to become steady. "That's my boy," you cooed, "That's it, just breathe f'me like a good boy."

sub!Theo who sobs when you call him a good boy, his self restraint non existent as he begins to twitch inside of you, the tell tale sign of his impending release. You squeeze your hand tightly around his neck, clenching your walls around him and immediately, you feel spurs of white ropes spilling inside of you. He comes undone with a broken sob, your own release following mere seconds after. It's one of the most intense orgasms either of you has had, and for a dizzying moment the entire world fades into blinding white pleasure. With a few more thrusts, you ride your highs out until you slowly push yourself up, feeling the way his cum trickles down your thighs.

sub!Theo who goes limp and can barely think or move, his mind a completely barren canvas with nothing going on. The only thing on his mind is you and how much he craves your presence. He almost begins to cry again when you get up, but with gentle shushing and whispered promises of return, he finds himself calming down. You disappear into the bathroom, returning with a small basket where you keep your so-called clean up kit. You use the towels to clean the both of you up, tsking at him when he attempts to get up. "No, tonight is my turn to take care of you," you affirm, and he simply obliges, letting you do the work while gently peppering kisses across his face and body.

sub!Theo who nuzzles into you when you're both finally settled in bed, letting all tension and exhaustion fall away as you whisper sweet nothings and love confession. He doesn't trust himself to talk, the weight of the vulnerability he'd just displayed heavy on his heart, but for now he gives himself the luxury of forgetting and simply enjoys your presence. Your affection and care stirs something deep inside him, and he finds himself letting it wrap around him like a warm blanket until he slips into the first deep and pleasant sleep he's had in weeks.

[lazyahhshifter]

MR. D'S JORTS #SLAY

[lazyahhshifter]

Choose your fighter: Mr D edition

[lazyahhshifter]

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

WARNINGS: theatrelover!theo x cinemalover!fem!reader, sex, porn with plot, semi-public sex, p in v, raw, cursing, hot, fingering, NSFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | minors please dni. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: In the cool of the evening, when everything is getting kind of groovy, you call me up and ask me: would I like to go with you and see a movie? First I say "No, Ive got some plans for tonight." But then I stop and say "All right".

WC: 6.3K AN: HAHAHAH finally, after what it seemed like a fucking eternity, I bring you... Theodore SMUT. Everyone say thank you! JK, enjoy it, you whore. <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Theodore Nott had an insufferable, borderline pretentious love for contemporary theatre. He would wax poetic about the brilliance of Jez Butterworth, the raw grit of Simon Stephens, and the immersive absurdity of Caryl Churchill. You, on the other hand, were a cinephile at heart—Tarantino’s razor-sharp dialogue, Scorsese’s masterful character studies, Nolan’s intricate narratives. You could analyze Pulp Fiction’s non-linear structure just as easily as you could tear apart The Wolf of Wall Street’s moral ambiguity.

Despite your differences, you both had an undeniable appreciation for storytelling—whether on stage or on screen. And naturally, that appreciation often turned into petty arguments.

"You can’t tell me The Ferryman isn’t one of the best pieces of theatre in the last decade," Theo scoffed one day, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. Jez is just doing modern-day Greek tragedy with a sprinkle of Irish drama. It’s compelling, sure, but it’s not reinventing the wheel."

Theo narrowed his eyes. "And what, you think Tarantino’s constant foot fetish and non-linear storytelling is revolutionary?"

"At least Tarantino has mastered the art of tension," you shot back. "The Sicilian scene in True Romance? The diner scene in Reservoir Dogs? You don’t need an elaborate set change or monologues drenched in metaphor—you just need two people in a room and a damn good script."

"That’s rich coming from someone who praises Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller—two of the most dialogue-heavy playwrights in existence."

Your friends groaned. They were used to this. You and Theo could argue for hours over narrative devices, symbolism, and whether theatre or cinema was the superior storytelling medium.

But one afternoon, during an extracurricular drama lesson, the argument escalated to a level that left everyone in the room speechless.

The class was discussing adaptations—how literature, theatre, and film intertwined.

Theo, ever the theatrical purist, argued, “Plays allow for the rawest human emotion. There are no camera tricks, no fancy editing—just an actor on stage, exposed. That’s why theatre will always have a deeper emotional impact than cinema.”

You weren’t about to let that slide. “That’s a wildly limited way of thinking. Film is just as much a visual art as it is a narrative one. Sure, theatre relies on the performer’s ability to hold an audience, but film can show a character’s internal struggle without a single word of dialogue. A glance, a shift in lighting—those subtle details can hit just as hard as a monologue.”

Theo tilted his head, amused. “Alright, then. A Streetcar Named Desire—would you rather see it on stage or in Elia Kazan’s adaptation?”

You smirked. “Kazan’s adaptation is brilliant, but you’re proving my point. The film version utilizes Marlon Brando’s raw, visceral performance while also using close-ups, sound design, and visual metaphors to enhance it. Theatre is powerful, but it’s limited by its medium. Film has more tools.”

The tension in the room thickened as you both volleyed back and forth—citing everything from Angels in America to Taxi Driver, from Arthur Miller’s The Crucible to Nolan’s Memento.

By the time you both stopped to take a breath, the rest of the class was staring at you like they had just witnessed an academic duel to the death.

Blaise, looking mildly concerned, muttered, “I think you two just argued in a language no one else speaks.” Pansy blinked and slowly nodded her head, “did you just name-drop fifteen different playwrights and directors in the span of five minutes?”

Draco, unimpressed, simply said, “I came here to watch people pretend to be trees, not to witness whatever that was.”

You and Theo exchanged a look. And, despite everything, a slow grin spread across both your faces. Because for all the arguing, all the differences, and all the passionate debates—you loved every second of it.

- ★、

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it, your much-anticipated cinema trip. It wasn’t every day you got to slip away from the castle, apparate to London, and immerse yourself in the warm glow of a dimly lit theatre, the smell of buttered popcorn thick in the air. Tonight’s screening? A Tarantino classic—Inglourious Basterds. You were practically buzzing with excitement as you stepped into the theatre, savoring the moment before the film began.

And then you saw him.

Theodore. Bloody. Nott.

Leaning against the concession stand, hands in his pockets, looking as if he belonged in some noir film with his perfectly tailored coat and unimpressed expression. His sharp gaze flicked over to you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Didn’t peg you for the type to sneak off to London alone for a late-night film screening. How rebellious.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t strike me as the type to appreciate Tarantino. What are you doing here, Theo?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What, am I not allowed to expand my horizons? Maybe I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, please. You’ve spent weeks slandering film in favor of theatre, and now you suddenly show up to a Tarantino movie of all things?”

Theo hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer, so close that the scent of his cologne—expensive and frustratingly good—filled your senses. “Maybe,” he mused, “I just enjoy riling you up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was betraying you with its traitorous thump against your ribs. “Right. So you apparated to London, found this exact cinema, and happened to pick the same showing as me? Coincidence?”

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps.”

Before you could interrogate him further, the theatre doors opened, and people started filing inside. You exhaled, shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t care why you’re here. Just—don’t ruin the film for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, trailing after you.

You found your seat, sinking into the plush velvet, determined to ignore the fact that Theodore Nott had somehow ended up in the seat directly beside you. He stretched out, looking infuriatingly at ease, as if this hadn’t been some grand invasion of your sacred cinema time.

And then, as the lights dimmed and the first scene flickered onto the screen, Theo leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear.

“If this film doesn’t impress me,” he whispered, “you owe me a ticket to the next play I pick.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and smirked. “Fine. But when you inevitably love it, you’re admitting I was right.”

Theodore just chuckled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. “We’ll see.”

As the film unfolded on the screen, you found yourself hyperaware of Theodore’s presence beside you. It was ridiculous, really—how could one person occupy so much space without actually moving? 

His elbow rested dangerously close to yours on the armrest, his long legs stretched out in that careless way he always sat, as if the entire world was his to lounge in. 

You tried to focus on the movie, on the tense exchange between Landa and Perrier LaPadite, but Theo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, and suddenly, every bit of dialogue seemed to drown beneath the sound of your own heartbeat.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the push and pull of your debates, the sharp edge of your banter, had morphed into something more charged, something that left a static hum in the air between you. 

Maybe it had always been there, simmering beneath every eye roll, every challenge, every smirk that lasted a second too long. And now, sitting here in the dim glow of the theatre, with flickering light casting shadows across his annoyingly perfect features, it was impossible to ignore.

Halfway through the film, Theo leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright, I’ll admit it. The dialogue is brilliant.”

You smirked, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. “Told you.”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, a steady, maddening rhythm. “Still doesn’t mean it’s better than theatre.”

You turned your head slightly, lips curving in amusement. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Theo tilted his face toward you, his voice dropping lower, smoother. “Because film lets you hide. Close-ups, cuts, music—it manipulates how you feel. Theatre? It’s raw. No second takes. No distractions.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just a moment too long on your lips. “You can’t escape it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, though whether it was from his words or the way his voice curled around them, you weren’t entirely sure. You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. “You call it hiding. I call it perspective. The camera lets you see things no audience member ever could—something intimate, something only you get to witness.”

Theo hummed, considering that. The tension between you had shifted into something heavier, something that pressed into the space between breaths. He was still close, close enough that you could catch the faintest scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from where his arm rested near yours. It would be so easy to lean in just a little more, to close that final inch between you.

And then, just as you were about to force yourself to sit back, to pretend none of this was affecting you, he moved.

Slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, the touch featherlight, testing. Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Theo, ever perceptive, took that as permission, his fingers shifting, tracing the delicate curve of your wrist.

“You’re… mad, Theo. You’re out of your mind,” you murmured, barely aware you had spoken the words aloud.

His lips quirked, but there was something darker in his gaze now, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach. “That’s right…,” he murmured, his fingers sliding between yours, “but you’re too, you haven’t moved.”

You knew you should say something—should tease him, should act unaffected—but all logic had abandoned you the moment his hand fully curled around yours. The room around you had disappeared, the film reduced to a distant hum in the background.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Theo lifted your intertwined hands, brushing his lips against the inside of your wrist. It was barely a kiss—more of a ghost of one—but it sent a shiver straight down your spine, igniting something electric in your veins.

Your breath hitched. “Theo—”

“I know,” he murmured, voice impossibly low, as if he was reading every thought racing through your mind. His thumb traced slow, teasing circles over your palm, his lips still hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze through the dim flicker of the screen. “What if I don’t want to?”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer there, something almost unreadable. For a moment, he just looked at you, as if memorizing every detail, before he finally whispered, “Then we might have a problem.”

And the worst part?

You wanted to find out just how much of a problem it could be.

The world outside of your little bubble had disappeared completely—the film playing on the screen, the murmur of the other audience members, the distant rustling of popcorn bags—it all faded into nothing. All that remained was Theodore, his touch burning into your skin, the weight of his gaze heavy as it flickered down to your lips.

His hand tightened ever so slightly around yours, his thumb tracing the delicate skin of your wrist, and you swore you felt your heartbeat stutter. There was something unbearably patient about the way he was looking at you, like he was waiting—waiting for you to pull away, to scoff and shove him off, to turn this into just another one of your never-ending debates. But you didn’t move.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the warmth between you growing thick, heavy. Your noses brushed—barely, just a whisper of contact—but it sent something electric crackling through your veins.

Theo exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath. His voice was nothing more than a murmur, just for you. “You’re really not stopping me.”

You smirked, fingers tightening slightly around his. “I thought you liked risks.”

His lips caught yours in the next breath, slow at first—just a soft, testing press, as if he wasn’t entirely sure this was real. But then you sighed against his mouth, tilting your head slightly, and finally leaned in.

Theo let go of whatever restraint he had left. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing gently beneath your ear as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

He tasted faintly of Italian summer and something richer, something entirely him. His touch was both careful and possessive, like he was memorizing the shape of you beneath his fingertips. You felt yourself melt into it, the heat between you intensifying, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You barely noticed the way his thumb brushed over your cheek, the way he tilted your chin just slightly to kiss you deeper. Everything about it was intoxicating—the way he moved, the way he swallowed the quiet little sigh that escaped you, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the background, the movie continued playing—gunfire, sharp dialogue, the rise of a dramatic score—but it all blurred into nothing. All you could focus on was Theo, on the way he was kissing you like he’d been waiting for this, like he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulled away, his lips barely ghosting over yours, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his fingers still cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your skin.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips slightly parted, and for the first time, Theodore Nott looked entirely, devastatingly undone.

A slow, lazy smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rough. “I suppose I owe Tarantino some credit after all.”

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, fingers trailing down the side of your throat, as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you yet. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You liked that more than the film.”

You hummed, pretending to consider. “Jury’s still out.”

Theo smirked, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight kiss, like a silent promise. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you.”

And as he pulls you back into another kiss, slow and deep and utterly devastating, you realise with absolute certainty—you were in trouble.

Theodore's hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that steals your breath. He pulls you closer, eliminating any remaining distance between your bodies, his heart hammering against his ribs. 

His other hand splays across your lower back, pressing you flush against him as the kiss grows more heated, more demanding. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue soothing the sting before delving back into your mouth, stroking along yours in a dance that leaves you breathless. The cinema, the other people, the movie - it all disappears. There is only the two of you, lost in the passion of this stolen moment. 

When Theodore finally breaks the kiss, you're both left panting, your chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering open to gaze into yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “Fuck..." he breathes, his voice ragged with desire.

And then, an act on impulse, a surge of primal instinct driving him. In one swift, fluid motion, he reaches under your thighs and lifts you effortlessly, settling you straddled on his lap. The sudden change in position startles you both, but the shock quickly melts into a shiver of pleasure as you feel the hard, muscular length of his thighs beneath you. 

The cinema has long since faded from your awareness; now there is only the two of you, the heat building between your bodies, the electricity crackling in the air. 

Theodore's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh almost hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place. Your chest is pressed against his, and you can feel the pounding of his heart, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. 

His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light, blazing into yours with an intensity that makes your own pulse race. "Darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble. His hands move again up your back, one tangling in your hair while the other cups the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing, desperate kiss. 

The kiss is a clash of lips and tongues, a dance of passion and pent-up longing. It's a kiss that speaks of a hunger, a need, a desperation that can no longer be contained. Theodore kisses you like a man starved, like he is trying to devour you, to consume you, to make you a part of him.

Red faced, messy hair, you look up at him. “Sh-shit Theo, we shouldn’t be doing this here.” You quietly giggled.

Theodore chuckles softly at your giggle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't stop his ministrations, his hands still roaming your curves with a familiar confidence. 

But he does lean back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Shh, shh, bella, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now..." he teases, his voice a low murmur meant only for your ears. 

"We're just two lovers, lost in the moment. Surely there's no harm in that?" His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin. Your breath hitches at the touch, a fresh wave of goosebumps erupting across your flesh.

Theodore's eyes darken with lust as he feels your hips squirming against him, your plush rear rubbing against his hardening cock through the fabric of his trousers. 

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. His other hand slides up your side, his fingertips skimming the side of your breast, teasing you with the promise of his touch. 

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your flesh. "Gorgeous, you feel what you do to me, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky growl. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach as your grip tightened on his coat. The way he spoke, all dark velvet and wicked amusement, made your head spin. You did feel it—the tension thrumming between you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. And Merlin, it was driving you insane.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, creating more friction, desperate for anything to relieve the ache building inside you. His sharp inhale, the barely restrained groan against your throat, sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

"Fuck," Theo muttered, his lips grazing the delicate skin beneath your jaw. "You're dangerous."

A breathy laugh escaped you, but it was cut short as he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His nose skimmed along the column of your throat before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled against him.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, lips brushing against your pulse point. "Arguing with you, watching you get all worked up—Merlin—and now this?" His teeth grazed your skin, not quite biting, just enough to make your breath stutter. "Gorgeous, you have no idea how long I've wanted this."

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you couldn't help the way your hips rolled against his, seeking more of the delicious friction he so easily provided. His hands gripped you tighter, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

Theo let out a strained chuckle, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something dangerous. "If you keep doing that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with desire, "I'm going to forget we're in a bloody cinema."

The thought sent a thrill through you, but you knew he was right. The dim glow of the screen cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, but the reality of your surroundings was quickly slipping away, drowned out by the intoxicating heat between you.

You licked your lips, breathless. "Then maybe you should."

Theo stilled for a fraction of a second, his fingers flexing against your waist. And then—Merlin, then—his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Brilliant idea, darling," he purred.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before the haze of lust could fade, Theo was back at it again, with more force and more desire.

Theodore's hand cups your breast fully now, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt. His lips trail up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your pulse point before moving to your ear. 

"I want to bend you over the back of this seat and fuck you until you scream, until the entire cinema knows who you belong to," he whispers, his voice rough with need. 

"I want to make you come on my cock again and again until you're begging me to stop, until you're completely and utterly satisfied..." His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above where you crave his touch most. 

Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. "But I suppose I can be patient, for now," he murmurs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"After all, the anticipation, the build-up, the waiting... it's all part of the thrill, isn't it? Knowing that I could take you right here, right now, but choosing not to... for now." 

He pulls you into another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, until you're left breathless and wanting. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, a wicked glint in his eye. "Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "What do you want, my clever little witch?”

“N-no, Theo.” You blush, feeling hot. “I’m too turned on, I’ll be quiet I promise.” 

Theodore's eyes flash with triumph and desire at your breathless, needy words. A smug, satisfied smirk spreads across his handsome face as he realizes the effect he's having on you. 

His hand slides further down, his fingers brushing against your clothed sex, feeling the damp heat radiating through the fabric. "Mmm, is that so, pretty?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky purr. 

"You want me to fuck you, right here, right now, don't you? Want me to slip my hard, aching cock inside your tight, wet little cunt until you're screaming my name?" His fingers rub slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and whimper with need. 

Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice dripping with sinful promise. "I promise, I'll make it worth it. I'll fuck you so hard and so good that you'll forget where we are, and every single time, that you watch this movie, you will only see me.” 

His other hand slides up your shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose your heaving breasts. He cups the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your hardened nipples. 

"You just need to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, understand? No matter how much you want to scream, no matter how much you want to cry out in ecstasy, you need to stay silent. Think you can do that, tesoro?" Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. 

His hand slips beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal. 

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Are you ready for me to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, right here, right now, in front of all these unsuspecting people?”

Theodore takes your silent nod as the consent it is, his eyes darkening with a new wave of lust and desire. 

His hand slips further beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick, bare folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his skin. With a low, guttural groan, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. 

He pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, his palm pressing against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Shit, you're so fucking wet. So ready for my cock, aren't you? I can feel your greedy little cunt sucking me in, begging to be filled..." 

His other hand still up your shirt, pushes the fabric of your bra out of the way completely. He leans down, taking the stiff peak into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you're writhing against him, barely able to stay silent. 

Thank Merlin, you guys are in the last row, and the cinema’s loud speakers consume the room, the attention of the silent watchers move away from you both, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Theodore's hands on your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth on your breast. 

You can feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your ass, the evidence of his own desperate arousal. Theodore's hand slides from your breast to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he grinds his hips against yours, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing against your sensitive flesh. 

He captures your lips in a searing, desperate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you. 

"Mmh... please Teddy." You can't hold it in. It's been too long, he's teasing too much. "Hurry up so we can get the hell out."

Noticing your discomfort, and your inability to stay fucking quiet, Theodore’s eyes widen briefly at your plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He chuckles softly, a low, sinful sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your dripping pussy, pumping in and out, curling against that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl and your back arch. "Mmm, so eager, aren't you beautiful?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr. 

"So desperate for my cock, so hungry for me to fill you up, to make you mine..." 

He nips at your lower lip, his teeth tugging on the tender flesh, before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand slides from your neck to your hip, gripping the curve possessively. "Very well, my love. I suppose we can finish the movie another time… too bad we couldn’t do it in here.” 

Theodore's voice is low and rough with desire as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your dripping sex. You whimper at the loss, your body aching to be filled, to be stretched and used. He stands abruptly, pulling you up with him. 

With deft, practiced movements, he straightens your skirt and shirt, making you presentable once more. Taking your hand in his, he leads you quickly and quietly out of the cinema, weaving through the darkened aisles until you reach the emergency exit at the back. 

Pushing open the door, Theodore pulls you into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you in the inky black sky. He doesn't stop until he finds a secluded spot behind a tall hedgerow, hidden from view of the cinema and the buzzing streets of London. 

Turning to face you, Theodore pulls you flush against him, his hands gripping your hips with hands that you knew would leave a mark. 

He connects both your mouths, hurriedly, impatient to fuck you good.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking along yours, tasting you, consuming you. His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm globes before lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

 He carries you a few steps further, until your back is pressed against the rough bark of a sturdy brick wall. 

Breaking the kiss, Theodore leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with a hunger and a desperation that makes your heart race. 

He reaches down with one hand, fumbling briefly with the fastenings of his trousers before freeing his aching cock. It springs forth, shiny and veiny and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with precum. 

He strokes himself once, twice, hissing at the sensation, before gripping your thigh and positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough growl. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my cock inside you, filling you, claiming you, making you mine. Say it, cara mia..." He rubs the head of his cock teasingly against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

His other hand slides up your jaw, cupping your face, his thumb playing with your swollen pouty lips. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperate, aching need. The cool night air kisses your skin, but the heat building between your bodies is scorching, all consuming.

Theodore's chest heaves with each ragged breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. He's waiting for your consent, your permission, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. 

With a sudden, sharp thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, burying his thick, hard length deep into your tight, wet heat. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sends shockwaves through your body. 

He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping sex with long, deep strokes. “Cazzo..." Theodore grits out, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. "You feel exquisite, like you were made just for me. So fucking tight, so fucking perfect..." He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. 

His hands grip your hips, pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the force of them making you shake against the hard wall.

Theodore groans at your sudden cry, the sound turning him on. He pistons his hips faster, driving into you with a newfound urgency, the force of his thrusts making the old oak tree shudder and sway around you. 

"That's it, bella," he pants, his voice a low, rough growl. "Let me hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make, every desperate plea falling from your pretty lips. Were not in there any more, don’t hold back princess…” 

One hand slides from your hip to your thigh, pushing your leg higher up his waist, opening you up to him, allowing him to delve even deeper into your tight, clenching heat. 

The other hand slides up your shirt, exposing once again your heaving breasts to the cool night air. Theodore leans down, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling at the sensitive bud until you're writhing against him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

 He laves his tongue over the reddened flesh, soothing the sting of his bites before moving to its twin, giving it the same attention.

 All the while, he never stops his relentless assault on your pussy, his cock pounding into you with a force that steals your breath and makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

 You can feel the tension building low in your belly, the coil tightening with each thrust, each stroke, each press of his hips against yours. Theodore's hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the swollen nub. 

His touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your breast, his voice a low, sinful purr. 

"Come for me, my love. Come on my cock like the perfect little angel you are. I want to feel you…” 

Theodore feels your sex clamp down around his cock like a vice as your orgasm overtakes you. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that echoes through the quiet night air, as your walls flutter and spasm around his throbbing length. 

He doesn't slow his thrusts, instead pounding into your quivering heat with a newfound fervor, prolonging your climax, drawing out your ecstasy. 

“Yes, yes, yes… just like that” he growls, his voice ragged and strained with his own impending release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly, like you never want to let me go. I can feel your greedy little cunt trying to swallow this big dick.” 

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours, to dance and twine with yours in a lewd, filthy imitation of the act taking place below. 

His hands grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes, pulling you harder against him, burying himself impossibly deeper inside you with each powerful thrust. Theo's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles over the sensitive nub, pushing you through your climax and straight into another. 

Your body is trembling, shaking, the pleasure almost too intense to bear as he fucks you through the aftershocks, the waves of bliss crashing over you again and again. He can feel his own release building, the tension coiling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight. 

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your still fluttering sex, his cock pulsing, throbbing, as he finds his own completion. 

"Fuck, pretty, fuck!" Theodore roars, his voice echoing through the night as he starts to come, his thick, hot seed spurting deep inside you, painting your walls white. 

His hips continue to roll, grinding against yours, drawing out his orgasm, filling you up just like he promised.

 He holds you close as the waves of pleasure slowly ebb, your combined releases trickling down your thighs, marking you, claiming you, making you his. 

Theodore's heart hammers against his chest as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours.

You felt colder now, the sharp night air finally biting at your flushed skin, but Theo barely let you move away from him. His arms were still wrapped around you, firm and possessive, as if he had no intention of letting you go just yet. And honestly? You weren’t about to complain.

Your breath came in slow, uneven pants as you tried to recover, your forehead still pressed against his. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, his usual arrogance softened by the post-bliss haze settling over both of you.

“Merlin,” Theo finally muttered, voice still thick and gravelly, “that was—” He exhaled, shaking his head like he couldn’t even find the words.

You let out a breathy, satisfied laugh, tilting your head to look at him. “Better than theatre?”

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really asking me that?”

You hummed, feigning nonchalance even as your body still buzzed from everything you’d just done. “Well, I mean, I know you think theatre is the peak of human artistic expression, but surely even you have to admit that was… cinematic.”

Theo let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Cinematic?”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Perfectly timed tension, intense buildup, and an unforgettable climax—I’d say we just gave Scorsese a run for his money.”

Theo groaned, tipping his head back, but you caught the way his lips twitched, like he was trying so hard not to smile. “You would turn this into a bloody film analysis.”

You shrugged, smug. “And you would turn it into a tragic, forbidden romance.”

“Obviously,” he shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Star-crossed lovers, clashing ideals, unbearable tension—”

“—and a dramatic resolution that makes the audience swoon,” you added, nudging his ribs.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you in closer. “Fine, I’ll admit it. That was—” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “—Oscar-worthy.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, pushing playfully at his chest. “You’re giving credit to film? You? Theodore Nott?”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Even I have to admit, some performances just can’t be staged.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you finally let yourself melt into his arms, letting the cool London air wrap around you both. “Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do now.”

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

You looked up at him, feigning seriousness. “Debrief. Proper analysis, compare our perspectives—”

“Absolutely not,” Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still holding me.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head with an affectionate smirk. “Yeah, well… Guess I do have a weakness for a well-written story.”

His lips met yours again, soft and unhurried this time, and you couldn’t help but think—whether it was theatre or cinema, tragedy or romance—this? This was your favorite story yet.

[lazyahhshifter]

: ̗̀➛ Safety Scripting ideas for your dangerous DR’s ! !

────────────

𑁋 you are protected from severe or moderate injuries including: damage to the brain/organs, breaking any bones, tearing any ligaments and muscles, etc.

𑁋 your body is constantly healthy, even immune to common sicknesses like the cold and such (if desired)

𑁋 you can never catch serious illnesses, or contract anything serious

𑁋 if you do want to experience some sort pain for the sake of realism, script in high pain tolerance (very important!)

𑁋 your body heals quickly (preferably 1-3 days or within hours)

𑁋 you’re capable of fighting off any unwanted dangers, always come out on top.

𑁋 you have an intimidating aura that makes others afraid to approach you (specifically people looking for trouble/harm)

𑁋 you can go without food and water for a long time without physically deteriorating. or script that you never have to deal with food and water shortage/you always find food and water wherever you go.

𑁋 no any unwanted mental issues and you are free from suffering severe depression, anxiety, etc. this saves you mentally which could eventually affect you physically.

𑁋 it’s real life, so make sure you script that you are able to process trauma well. but if you want, nothing is stopping you from not having any sort of trauma at all !

𑁋 any of the monsters/creatures in your DR cannot infect, posses, or kill you. you never feel guilty ridding them off the face of the earth, it’s what you must do to survive.

𑁋 you have fantastic coordination, strategy, and execution (figuratively and literally) skills. these skills allow you to navigate your surroundings and make it out of life-threatening situations.

𑁋 physically strong. fit enough to run a marathon.

𑁋 you feel a strong sense of unease whenever something potentially dangerous is lurking near you. your intuition is always on point, you never ignore it.

𑁋 negative people will always end up leaving your life, letting you thrive in all your glory. and sooner rather than later.

𑁋 you know basic survival skills. handy if you find yourself out in the wild!

𑁋 certain dangerous plants, bugs, substances, etc. cannot affect you or you have high resistance against them. heck, they can’t even reach you.

𑁋 your height, clothes, hair, nails, jewelry, menstrual cycle, etc. never put you at a disadvantage in battles.

𑁋 you have a trusted group of people who protect you from unwanted danger. also, they radiate positive, uplifting energy!! helps in times of distress fr.

𑁋 you’re mentally mature enough to handle serious situations.

𑁋 if you use safe words, then you always remember it in instant moments of unwanted danger. you’ll know when too much has become TOO MUCH.

𑁋 you and your loved ones cannot be killed. script death happens from natural causes in old age.

𑁋 your opponents moves are easy to predict, easily dodge and avoid any harsh attacks.

𑁋 if you’re bound, you can easily slip yourself out of the restraints.

𑁋 all of your senses are sharp throughout your whole lifetime. not even old age can interfere with it.

𑁋 ALL of this for your loved ones as well !!

────────────

thank you for reading!! if there’s any other suggestions you have, please leave a comment :)

[lazyahhshifter]

bartender!theodore nott headcannons ⭑.ᐟ

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who makes the best cocktails but hates small talk, barely sparing a glance at customers who try to chat him up—until it’s you, leaning over the bar with that wicked little smile, eyes shining under neon lights. he sighs, pretends you’re a nuisance, but his hands are already reaching for your usual without a word

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who never lets you pay, no matter how many times you try. you slide a bill across the bar just to be difficult, and he slides it right back with a lazy smirk. “cute,” you hum, tucking it into his shirt pocket instead

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who pretends he’s annoyed when you steal cherries from his garnish tray, but his eyes drop to your lips when you wrap them around the stem, twisting it into a knot with a smirk. his jaw clenches, his grip tightens on the cocktail shaker. you grin. you win

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who doesn’t do small talk but always listens when you talk, filing away little details like they matter. you offhandedly mention your favorite song, and the next time you’re at the bar, it’s playing. you raise a brow, smirking, and he just shrugs. “coincidence.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who pretends he doesn’t notice when you’ve had one drink too many, but the second you start swaying, there’s a glass of water in front of you. you groan but drink it anyway, and he huffs, shaking his head. “good girl.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who glares at guys who get too close, who leans against the bar with his sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing, jaw tight, like he’s daring them to try something

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ bartender!theodore who walks you to the door at the end of the night, hands in his pockets, head tilted toward the ground. you’re tipsy, a little reckless, but you catch the way his eyes linger, the way his breath hitches when you lean in just a little too close. you grin. “goodnight, theo.” he exhales slowly, low and deep. “yeah. goodnight, trouble.”

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[lazyahhshifter]

How it feels secretly shifting realities

[lazyahhshifter]

thoughts on child of nyx

(disclaimer that I am still reading through the books I apologize for any misinformation)

Chronic night owls, feeling way more energized during the dark hours of the night than during the day

They like the wintery fall seasons better because of the sole fact that the sun dips below the horizon earlier and rises later

Nyx cabin and Apollo cabin would have a friendly rivalry

Their cabin would be dark inside but is decorated with a ton of fairy lights to mimic the stars

they can navigate with the stars and constellations extremely well

Inherently know the name of all those stars and constellations

they can manipulate shadows too as well as short bursts of really bright light like stars

i feel like they would be able to become a shadow for some reason???? Good for spying at least

Hades cabin and nyx cabin would have fun messing with the shadows all the time

I'm not entirely sure but I feel like nyx would be a protective mother (she protected her son from Zeus so there goes that) and this translates to her half-blood children too

She is protective of them and they are protective of those they care about too

i could imagine them being the mother/father figure of camp if they manage to get peoples' trust

they would be hesitant to hang out with the kids of Zeus, but would befriend them just to piss off king sparkles for all the nasty things he has said about their mother darkness

Nyx' children would be close to each other and wouldn't join Kronos

Their mother lives down there with the titans remains she hears his whining and plotting so she warns her kids

Like dude stfu for a second

Nyx and her children would have a good relationship and she'd be better at "child support" than most of if not all of the other gods

Again I'm new to the fandom but thought of this.

[lazyahhshifter]

★⋆. — HOGWARTS ELECTIVE CLASSES TO SCRIPT

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED ARTIFACTS

ever wanted to know how cursed rings, bewitched mirrors, and sentient diaries work? this course teaches you how to identify, dismantle, and (if you’re brave) create magical relics—you never know when you’ll need an enchanted necklace or a vanishing cabinet, i suppose

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING FASHION HISTORY

from the enchanted silks of the 1500s to robes that literally spark joy (or flames) in the 1900s, this elective dives into the who, what, and why tho of wizarding couture. you’ll learn how clothing reflected magical politics (hello, anti-Muggle fabrics), the most popular clothing charms over the centuries, and why Merlin’s pointy hat was such a massive deal at the time

𓆩♡𓆪 — CURSE REVERSAL

sometimes, magic backfires—this class teaches you how to undo everything from jinxed cauldrons to full-on blood curses. it’s half science, half art, and fully life-saving

𓆩♡𓆪 — HEALING

for the bleeding hearts (and bloody injuries). this elective teaches advanced healing charms, restorative potions, and how to fix the most catastrophic accidents without having to Floo to St. Mungo’s. class is split 50/50 between the healers of the next generation, and mischief makers that are so unhinged they have to heal themselves. this class sees all the good, the bad and the ugly

𓆩♡𓆪 — DRAGON STUDIES

learn all about the physicality, variety, and history of these dynamically unique creatures, and perhaps learn how to not get torched while studying them along the way. the course includes field trips (waivers from home and insurance spells VERY much required)

𓆩♡𓆪 — CHARMED CULINARY ARTS

enchanted cooking utensils will be your best friend as you navigate this course, learning to do everything in the kitchen from baking bread that sings to brewing drinks that bubble with magic. (house elves are assistants in this class, and you can always convince them to slip you an extra treat or two)

𓆩♡𓆪 — ADVANCED DIVINATION

tea leaves and crystal balls don’t even begin to scratch the surface of everything divination has to offer—if you’re a believer, and grounded enough to put up with the kooky professor. this course dives into obscure methods of divining the future: dream walking, cloud reading, rune casting, and much more. perfect for the more spiritually inclined students (or those who just enjoy the professor’s cryptic drama)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL FORESICS

got a Sherlock streak, or always wondered how the aurors do it? learn how to dissect magical crime scenes, trace hex signatures, and untangle the threads of a cursed crime

𓆩♡𓆪 — MINISTRY POLITICS & MAGICAL LAW

in this course that’s absolutely not for the academically faint, you’ll find yourself taking part in debates more than any other course. debate the ethics of using Veritaserum in court, or why house-elf labor laws are a mess. these students are likely future members of the Wizengamot

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED HOMEKEEPING

from self-sweeping brooms to magical security systems, think Martha Stewart meets The Standard Book of Spells. this course covers everything you need to know about using magic to run the most efficient household ever (you get a headache when you think about how Muggles do all of this without magic)

𓆩♡𓆪 — ALCHEMY: THE ART OF TRANSFORMARION

arguably the ultimate nerdy class—i’ve yet to meet a single person who wanted to handle the theories and coursework of this class. learn the secrets of transmutation, potion refinement, and (the whole thing’s pretty mysterious) all about the quest for immortality

𓆩♡𓆪 — SPELL CREATION THEORY

an elective created as the direct remedy for students making overeager and academically misguided attempts to make their own spells (some spells don’t exist for a reason, Fred and George.) learn the theory of how to craft spells from scratch and fine-tune them to your exact needs—perfect for the creatively chaotic. though, of course, you don’t actually make spells in class (that’s a direct ticket to St. Mungo’s)

𓆩♡𓆪 — THEORY & ETHICS OF NECROMANCY

strictly theoretical, of course (for legal reasons), this class dives into the magical theory of spirits’ existence, resurrection spells, and the history of necromancy. it also manages to cram most of one of the longest-standing debates in magical history into a year-long course (we can raise the dead, but should we? HM, i wonder)

𓆩♡𓆪 — WANDLESS MAGIC

if you’re someone who thinks ‘why bother with a wand when you are the magic?’ this course is for you—it trains you in wandless spellcasting, so you can cast even when you’ve “misplaced” your primary weapon

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING FOLKLORE

from ghostly greenhouses to the allegedly haunted halls of Hogwarts, from ancient fairy tales to horror stories that keep even the bravest wizards awake at night, this course covers all of the folklore and tall tales from centuries of wizarding history and storytelling

𓆩♡𓆪 — ENCHANTED CARTOGRAPHY

i’m sure you already know that making an enchanted map is a skill that never goes out of style (cough, Marauder’s.) in this course, learn to create enchanted maps that move, update themselves, and accurately portray secret rooms and passageways (though they might not cover the more mischievous aspects in the course, i’m sure you can figure those out on your own time)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL ETHICS & PHILOSOPHY

all the way from time turners and truth serums to love potions and dementors, this course holds a magnifying glass to all the moral dilemmas of using magic in gray areas—just because you can hex someone doesn’t mean you should, and if you need a love potion, maybe you should reexamine some things first

𓆩♡𓆪 — QUIDDITCH ANALYTICS

a course all about the stats, spells, and tactics behind the wizarding worlds’ favorite sport. think of it as sabermetrics, but with broomsticks. students are an even split of quidditch players, and those who love quidditch without wanting to zoom hundreds of feet above the ground (understandable)

𓆩♡𓆪 — WANDLORE & CRAFTING

take your first step towards becoming the next Ollivander by studying wand woods, cores, and how to match them with their perfect witch or wizard. careful, your own wand might be open to more scrutiny than you’re accustomed to. warning: NOT a class for people with butterfingers

𓆩♡𓆪 — MOVING PHOTOGRAPHY

learn how to properly snap a good photo and develop moving pictures, charm them with special effects, and create photo albums that are magically cohesive enough to tell their own stories. with moving photos holding entire memories, someone always needs a good magical photographer

𓆩♡𓆪 — GRIMOIRE WRITING & SPELL JOURNALING

every great wizard of the past and present had a grimoire to keep track of their endless magical escapades. learn how to create your own spellbooks, safely document your findings, and make them impossible for dark wizards (or just nosy siblings) to read

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL LINGUISTICS

communication is key, whether it’s haggling with goblins, charming house-elves, or negotiating with dragons. this course helps you break through the language barrier—literally—to the entire wizarding world and all its species

𓆩♡𓆪 — MAGICAL JOURNALISM

for aspiring Rita Skeeters (hopefully no one, let’s make it ethical), this course covers investigative reporting, spell-resistant quills, following the honor code of interviewing and writing, and even some tips on how to charm the Daily Prophet editors with your work and score a job in the journalism field. NO Quick-Quotes Quills allowed, ever !!

𓆩♡𓆪 — TIME MANIPULATION THEORY

absolutely no time-turners allowed, despite learning all about them. learn the ethical and practical implications of bending time, including nearly every historical horror story of witches and wizards who got a little spin-happy with the power. (does the course only exist as a big fat warning for the students who are granted use of a time turner? we’ll never know—but yes, probably)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MUSIC & ENCHANTED COMPOSITION

a course taken by many of the choir members, which allows you to delve deep into the magic behind musical spells, how to ethically enchant instruments for killer performances, and both writing and performing magical compositions. don’t mind the frogs in class, they’re brushing up on their technique, too

𓆩♡𓆪 — SPELL COMBAT TACTICS

this course covers a mix of strategic dueling with battlefield planning, as it covers pretty much every notable magical duel and battle in history. perfect for those angling to join the Aurors, or those who are just looking to win every wizarding duel

𓆩♡𓆪 — WIZARDING THEATER

this course involves combining drama with charms to bring stories literally to life on stage. props are enchanted and can interact with the actors, the weather matches each set, and actors might just float mid-scene. students can sharpen their acting and set enchantment skills to hopefully be on one of the great wizarding stages one day (or working behind the scenes of one)

𓆩♡𓆪 — MUGGLE STUDIES: ADVANCED INTEGRATION

forget the “what’s a toaster?” training-wheels shit—this course is about truly blending wizarding ingenuity with Muggle innovation. a popular course among muggleborn students, who have the opportunity to actually use their heritage in their favor to explore a whole world of social and magical possibilities

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[lazyahhshifter]

I don’t want to alarm anyone but…….