#WIZARD. FROG. EATING YOU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kittenintheden · 1 month ago

Note

I love your style of writing!! I like how you also take suggestions and I may have one I’d love to see you expand on: Astarion misses the act of eating and is enthralled by F Tav when he watches her eat. He wants to seduce her and gain her trust - he gathers a selection of good foods - fruits, berries, chocolate, cheese, magic ice. Finds her reading aloud to a wild animal a kind of respite for her. He takes to listening to her read. That’s how they hone their relationship then he brings the food on one such meeting. Turns to kissing. Hot stuff ensues lol Thank you for indulging me.

hi <3 thanks for helping me out of a writing funk. I hope you enjoy this treat ^_^

Wanna Give You My Sugar, Baby

Rating: E (18+) Pairing: Astarion/F!Tav Word Count: 5565 Content: 18+, oral sex, PIV sex, food play, blood drinking, Astarion being Astarion

AO3 Link

***

He isn’t sure exactly when it happens, but happen it does.

The first few weeks are a cavalcade of escalating absurdity. Mind flayer tadpoles, bickering druids, disgusting goblin camps, hags, memphits, frogs that pack a wallop they have no business packing. The list goes on and on.

And yet, as their merry band progresses through the horrors, something shifts in him. Necessity becomes hesitant companionability. Threats become less threatening with people fighting at his side. A veneer of seduction becomes something uncomfortably close to… friendship.

When they cross the threshold of relative safety to head into the Shadow-Cursed Lands at last, Astarion’s nearly looking forward to the adventure. It’s strange to be in the presence of people who not only tolerate him, but almost seem to enjoy his company, even when that company doesn’t involve him putting out.

Not that he didn’t try, of course. The lady-wizard, Antava, had seemed an ideal candidate for separation from the herd, yet she didn’t rise to his flirtations. They didn’t go over her head, of that he’s certain. Nonetheless, her knowing smile stayed kind as she declined his invitation. He’d never admit it to anyone – barely admits it to himself – but it stung. A little.

He hates losing. There’s been too much loss in his life.

But it hardly matters. Turns out he didn’t need to seduce a protector, after all. The clowns he runs with protect him for free. Odd, but he’ll take it.

As his guard drops, inch by painstaking inch, topics beyond his mere continued survival begin taking up more space in his mind.

Topics like Tav’s mouth.

Tonight, a significant portion of their troupe finishes up their evening meal near the fire. Astarion sits companionably nearby while the others eat, smirking over his cup of bad wine and offering the occasional judgement. He’s giving a high laugh at one of his own jokes when he looks to the side and catches the moment Antava – Tav, now – lifts a strawberry to her lips. Her eyes are closed as she bites into the fruit, her lips stained the faintest red as they stretch into a delighted smile.

Astarion pauses to admire the sight. It’d be rude not to. It’s a very nice mouth. Aesthetically speaking. Slightly bowed at the top, a plush lower lip with a barely-there dimple, and a very small scar bisecting her lip line. His brow knits. He hadn’t noticed that before.

Tav’s eyes sparkle as she finishes her bite and opens her eyes to meet his. She swallows and says, “What?”

“I was just…” Astarion waves his cup toward her. “I just noticed that scar on your lip. Story to share with the group, dear?”

She laughs brightly and brings her fingers to the mark near the corner of her mouth. Astarion feels the urge to mirror the touch on his own. Instead, he brings the wine to his lips. It’s acrid. Sour. Like everything else.

Tav says, “Nothing exciting or scandalous, I’m afraid. My brother’s pet budgie bit me when I was nine. I was trying to teach it to give kisses.”

Astarion blinks and stares a moment. A short laugh bursts from him. Then another.

“Budgie bite?” he says through an incredulous grin.

Tav shrugs. “Budgie bite.”

“Pathetic,” Astarion scoffs teasingly, taking another drink.

She grumbles at him a moment before reaching out to pluck another berry from their shared platter. Astarion glances to the side to watch it disappear past her lips.

What did berries taste like?

He can’t remember.

***

Tav eats with enthusiasm, and now that he’s noticed it, he can’t un-notice it.

When they’ve been on the road a while, she’ll reach into her pack and produce an apple or a small wrapped bit of cheese and bread. The simplest things, yet as he watches her, he sees the way she relishes every bite. Tastes it. Experiences it.

She sinks her teeth into the apple’s flesh with an audible snap, taking a bite into her mouth and chewing slowly, the tip of her pink tongue poking out to lick the juice dripping down the side of her hand.

He manages to catch himself before he runs headlong into a knot of strangling vines. Barely.

One morning a few days later, Halsin’s produced a coveted bit of honey from his pack and Tav is drizzling a spoonful into the tea Shadowheart brewed at the fire. Astarion pauses in oiling his blade hilts to observe her draw her tongue over the back of her spoon, the sticky golden honey coming away, held in her mouth for a marvelous moment.

He clears his throat and examines the dagger balanced in his palm.

Sweet tooth, he thinks as he wipes a soft cloth over the blade.

Then there’s the day they help an infuriatingly chipper family of halflings escape a grisly fate at the business end of a Razorvine Blight and part of their reward is a precious package of stick candy enchanted with multicolored, multiflavored stripes.

He doesn’t think much of it until the moment Tav takes one from the little wrapped bundle after supper, pulling the red-swirled candy out and admiring it with childlike glee before she puts the end in her mouth and closes her eyes in rapturous delight. Astarion watches her pink lips close around the stick, the candy disappearing centimeter by centimeter. He pictures the length of it running over her tongue and is alarmed to feel a pang of envy.

Envious of candy.

Candy that gets to know the soft heat of her mouth, the velvet touch of her tongue. He can’t stop the rising image of those same lush lips closing around his-

“Astarion?” someone says from behind his left shoulder.

“Hm?” he responds, twisting to look around and casually leaning against the nearest crate with what he’s sure is believable nonchalance.

Wyll approaches with goblet in hand and tilts his head in concern. It’s taken him some time to learn to live with his new horns, but they suit him well. At this point, it’s like they’ve always been part of him.

“Are you feeling well?” Wyll asks. “Not peckish?”

Astarion snorts a laugh. “Not especially. Why? Are you offering, you generous thing?”

While Tav was the first to offer him a bite on that ill-fated night not so very long ago, the party has since taken it upon themselves to make routine donations to keep him fed. Though they all seem to prefer the vein-to-cup method, which is incredibly disappointing.

Wyll chuckles. “If you need it. I ask because you’re staring rather wolfishly.”

“At what?” Astarion responds without a thought.

With an arched brow, Wyll shifts his gaze to look over Astarion’s shoulder. Though he knows exactly what he’ll find there, Astarion looks anyway, and sure enough Tav has worked her stick candy to a fine point, lips and tongue stained prominently red, the sight of which is causing the strangest reaction in his gut. His throat bobs.

He turns back to Wyll. “Can you blame a man for enjoying a show? Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

As he walks off, Wyll says, “You know, the other day I overheard Tav mention to Karlach that she’d take on an owlbear all by herself for a bit of chocolate. It seems to be a favorite. Maybe the merchant we passed earlier knows where to find some.”

Astarion stops and turns his head to one side, frowning. “Okay? And?”

Wyll lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile. “Just thought you might be interested to know.”

“I’m not.”

“All right. Enjoy your evening.” Wyll raises his glass and moves to leave.

Astarion shifts his weight from foot to foot. Wyll gets three steps before Astarion sighs and says, “Which merchant?”

***

The merchant Wyll recommended does not have any sweets, it turns out. But she points Astarion in the direction of a traveling trader who happens to be holed up at the Last Light Inn, waiting until it’s safe enough to move on.

That man does have a bit of special stock. For a price.

“Ten gold?” Astarion sneers incredulously. “Are you mad?”

The vendor shrugs. “It’s a real specialty product. I’ve no idea when I’ll be able to get more. Got a business to run. You understand.”

Astarion scoffs and folds his arms. “Robbery is what it is, and I won’t be party to it.” He sniffs and looks to one side. Then back again. “I’ll give you six.”

With a smirk, the half-orc says, “You might talk me into eight.”

“Seven,” Astarion counters, placing a hand on a tavern table and leaning forward.

“Nah,” the vendor says as he flips a silver into the air and catches it. “I can find someone willing to pay more’n eight.”

“I will give you eight if…” Astarion raises a finger to point toward the man’s face. “... if you throw in a lockpick.”

He gives a rumbling laugh. “All right, you caught me in a good mood. Deal.”

Astarion hands over the gold and the merchant hands over a lockpick and a packet of melting chocolate.

The vendor flicks his eyes up and gives Astarion a parting nod as he counts the coins. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, sex,” Astarion says, waving the packet through the air with a flourish. “Was that not obvious?”

The man gives him a look up and down. Then he shrugs and says, “Fair enough.”

***

How does one melt chocolate without burning it? This is not a skill he’s ever had reason to acquire. Never had the opportunity, really. Cacao was mainly used to make a bitter drink when he was young. This whole… chocolate thing is a relatively new development.

“Certainly I’ll regret asking, but dare I wonder what ill-fated task you’re attempting?” Gale asks as he approaches Astarion warily.

Astarion looks up mid-act, his hand hovering over a small clay jar containing a small bit of his overpriced chocolate. “Playing with fire, what does it look like?” he responds.

“Ignis,” he mutters, sending a small bolt of flame into the jar, which instantly disintegrates the chocolate and also superheats the vessel.

“Gods damn it,” Astarion curses, dropping the jar and shaking out his burnt hand.

Gale looks at him like he’s just tried to tear up a spell scroll. “Where on the material plane did you learn that horrific cantrip form?”

“Oh, piss off,” Astarion sneers, still clutching his hurt fingers. “It comes naturally.”

“Natural as an avalanche,” Gale says as he shoos him away from the jar. He crouches down and holds a hand over it to test its heat, then allows cooling magic to pool in his palm before he reaches out to touch it. “There’s absolutely no delicacy to your somatics.”

“Listen, you smug spellnag,” Astarion says, pointing at Gale with his good hand. “There is only delicacy in my somatics.”

Gale flicks his hand in dismissal. “If you’re trying to heat the clay gently, a gentle hand is required. Manipulate the Weave as an artisan, pulling only the thread you need.”

The wizard’s eyes focus on the vessel and he speaks under his breath, whispering, “Ignis parvas.” When he does, the hand holding the jar glows with orange light, lighting the clay. A moment later, all goes dark.

“There you are,” Gale says, holding it out.

Astarion squints at Gale, then at the jar. He gingerly reaches out to take it and finds it very warm, but not painful, to the touch.

“Huh,” Astarion says, looking it over. “How long will it stay like this?”

Gale rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking very pleased with himself. “A good four hours or so, I should think. What plans have you for your new heated jar?”

“That,” Astarion says as he takes a step backward. “Is no business of yours. Cheers.”

With a put-upon sigh, Gale waits a moment before calling after him, “Could I at least have some of the chocolate you were destroying?”

“No,” Astarion says cheerfully, offering a wave over one shoulder.

***

Now that he’s standing near her tent with a satchel full of chocolate and berries, Astarion realizes he doesn’t exactly have a plan. He’s not even sure when he made the decision to take another pass at Tav. It seemed for a time like something might be blooming between her and Shadowheart, but the moment appears to have passed.

What is he doing here?

Astarion’s brow knits together and he tightens his grip on the strap of his pack. There’s no reason to do this. Is there? He doesn’t need protection like he once did.

But… it couldn’t exactly hurt, could it? To have a little insurance policy in place, just in case?

He stands up straight and puts on his best smile. No. It couldn’t hurt. At bare minimum, he gets to watch her eat his treat, and that seems worth the price of admission.

As he reaches her tent flap, she chooses that moment to step out and startles a bit when she spots him.

“Gods, you spooked me,” she laughs, hand to her fluttering heart. “You’re so quiet.”

“By design, darling,” he says, tilting his head just so. “You’re just the person I’d hoped to run into.”

“Yeah?” she says, gathering up her hair in one hand and pulling it over a shoulder. “You were hoping to jump out of the shadows and give me a fright?”

Like a glove, he slips right into his most comfortable role. His chuckle goes dark, his voice dropping into a purr. “I can think of a lot of things that are much more fun to do in the shadows than cause someone a fright.” A pause. “Although the look on your face was very funny.”

She gives him a calculating look, a slight smirk on her face. “Okay, I’ll bite. Like what?”

“A bite is one option,” he lilts. “Or several, if you’d like.”

She gives him an affectionate eyeroll, still smiling.

“Specifically,” he continues as he holds up his satchel. “I thought you might like to join me on a stroll and enjoy some provisions I managed to scrounge up. Strawberries…”

That gets her attention. He grins wide enough to show the points of his teeth and reaches into his satchel to produce a jar.

“... and chocolate.”

With a gasp, Tav reaches for it, giving a small yelp when she finds the jar warm to the touch. He offers it again and she takes it carefully, letting it warm her skin in the freezing depth of the caves they’re bunking in. Her eyes are wide with wonder as she brings it close to her face, examining it. She looks at him, awestruck.

“Hot chocolate? You found hot chocolate?” she says.

He plucks it back from her hands and stashes it away. “Perhaps. Would you care to sneak away with me and find out? I’ve found the loveliest cavern a little farther in. We could take some time to ourselves. Indulge in… whatever we like.”

The expression on her face is inscrutable. Astarion’s throat bobs. Shit. Did he overplay his hand?

As if he imagined it, her thoughtful look is replaced with another impish smirk. “Well, at the very least, I’ll get chocolate. I’m in.”

He releases a slow breath and smolders at her as he holds out an arm. “Shall we?”

They maneuver through a well-worn cavern path and Astarion feels the heat of the jar through his satchel and shirt, warming the center of his back as they walk.

***

Astarion has been known to stretch the truth to suit his needs, but in this instance, he’d spoken the truth plainly: he had indeed found a lovely little cavern for an impromptu picnic in the Shadowlands.

Tav gasps aloud as they enter the space and are met with glittering crystals glowing with natural magic embedded in the walls, creating a space that could only really be said to set a mood.

Astarion feels a self-satisfied smile pull at his mouth as she spots the blanket he’s laid out. She pauses only a moment before walking over and sinking onto it, turning to look over her shoulder at him invitingly.

Too easy. Always so easy.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?

He swallows and joins her, shrugging off the pack and handing it over to her as he lounges on one side, making sure to arrange himself so the laces of his shirt fall open to reveal some chest. All his best moves.

And he’s about to open his mouth and recite all his favorite lines, drop them one after the other until her smallclothes drop with them, but then Tav uncorks the jar of chocolate and dips a berry inside and the words never leave his mouth. He’s too busy watching.

Watching the chocolate, perfectly melted, drip like dark blood from the berry as she lifts the strawberry to her lips. A drop lands on her palm, another on the swell of her breast, but he has eyes only for her mouth as her tongue appears to lick the berry, her eyes falling closed and her brow softening in pleasure. A soft moan rises up from her throat at the taste and when she takes a bite, Astarion can hear her teeth pierce the flesh of the fruit.

He is instantly hard.

Oh, gods. No plan. He had no plan.

Tav, completely unaware of his internal struggle, chews slowly. Her eyes are half-lidded when she opens them again, finishing her bite and sticking out her tongue to lick the remaining chocolate from her lips. She swallows and he watches it move down her throat, remembering the one and only time she let him pierce his teeth directly into that same neck. His desperation and her trust.

How misplaced it had been.

“Astarion?” she says, and he watches her perfect lips form his name and his core tightens with arousal.

He can do this. He knows how to do this.

His head falls softly into his hand in a gentle lean as he tears his gaze away from her mouth and meets her eyes. “Yes, beautiful?”

The very slightest flush colors her cheeks. He only notices because he’s already staring.

“Why’d you ask me here?” she says. She raises the remaining half of the chocolate covered berry to her mouth and takes another bite, licking the chocolate from her palm while she’s at it.

His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he attempts to loosen it. “I think we both know why we’re here. Don’t you?” he says.

She huffs a laugh and tosses the strawberry top aside, still holding the jar of chocolate. With a downward glance, she spots the drop of chocolate on her breast and swipes it off with a finger, looking up to hold his eye as she licks it off.

“Why chocolate?” she asks, quieter this time.

Astarion blinks, confused. “What?”

Tav swallows. “You don’t eat. Why would you bother picking up chocolate?”

“I…” She’s caught him off-guard and the only thing coming to mind is the truth. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do like it,” she says. Her eyes are going unnervingly soft as she looks at him. “But why me? Why not good wine for Wyll or flowers for Shadowheart?” She runs her finger around the rim of the jar and brings it to her mouth again, sticking the entire tip into her mouth to suck the chocolate off.

Astarion’s pupils dilate and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

“I like to watch you eat,” he says softly. Honestly.

“Hm,” she hums, tapping the same fingertip against her lips. “Do you?”

He breathes in deep and looks at her with a heat he doesn’t have to fake. “You have an incredible mouth. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

Tav’s aforementioned mouth pulls up into a grin as she leans in toward him. “I’ve been told once or twice. I’ll make you a deal.”

“Hm?” he manages. Coherent thought is becoming difficult.

She holds out the jar. “You brought me chocolate and you like to watch my mouth,” she says lowly. “So put it… wherever you’d like to see my mouth.”

The jar is warm enough to make him sweat as she pushes it into his palm and his fingers close tightly around it. His brain clicks into place as he realizes what she’s giving him.

Power. Choice.

He thinks he may have just gone even harder.

With effort, he maintains his composure, plucking a small strawberry from the pile she’s left and swirling it into the open jar. He sets it aside and holds the berry up near his face, continuing to recline. He beckons her closer and arches a brow.

“Come and get it,” he teases.

Her face is full of mischief as she goes up on her hands and knees to come closer, her breasts hanging as she gives him a full peek down the front of her robes. When he tears his eyes away, her face is at level with the strawberry. She leans in close enough that he can smell the sweetness on her breath and takes his offering into her mouth. The sound of her teeth cutting through the fruit sends a wave of arousal rushing through his core.

Tav chews and swallows, breathing another strawberry-sweet sigh. She’s inches away.

“Anywhere else?” she says, eyes half-lidded as she gazes at him.

There’s only one place he’d really like her mouth right now.

Well. One, to start.

Astarion reaches toward the jar without breaking eye contact, dipping the pad of his middle finger into the warm chocolate. He withdraws it, brings it to his parted lips, and drags it over his lower lip. A bit ends up on the tip of his tongue. It tastes of wet dust, but he hadn’t expected anything better.

Tav’s face flickers with an affectionate smile. Her eyes drop to his mouth.

“I was hoping you’d pick that place,” she whispers.

She leans in and Astarion’s eyelids flutter closed as he feels the soft touch of her tongue stroking along his lip before her mouth covers his in a firm kiss. It’s nice. It’s very nice.

Their tongues brush against one another and something changes. Food and wine – they never taste like he remembers them, when he can remember them at all. But as the chocolate and strawberry become a part of her, held in her mouth and swallowed down, he tastes… something. Something sweet. Something more.

A sound of pure want rises in his throat before he even realizes it's happening.

Tav takes the sound as intended and deepens their kiss, moving her knees under her so she can lift her hands to either side of his jaw and pull him in tighter. Her lips are better than he imagined, gentle and skilled as she tastes him and he tastes her back.

Eventually, they break apart and open their eyes. For a moment, neither moves.

Then Tav says, “Where else?”

Astarion pushes himself up to sitting and she moves back to give him space. In seconds, he manages to undo the clasps along the front of his camp shirt and lets it fall open. He goes to reach for the chocolate, but Tav’s beat him to it. She holds it in her hand and speaks an incantation to summon a pale blue hand out of the aether. The mage hand spell dips inside and comes out dripping with chocolate. Then she grins and waits.

He leans back on his elbows with a look full of invitation, shirt falling to either side of his torso. He tents a leg and gives a knowing smirk when Tav’s gaze lights on the rigid length straining against his trousers.

“All in good time, my sweet,” he purrs. Shifting his weight to one side, he takes a finger and runs it down the column of his throat. Over each pectoral. Down the center of his sternum. Makes sure to hold her eye as he draws his pinky over the line separating his abdomen all the way to the navel.

Dutifully, Tav follows his instruction, using her spectral hand to apply chocolate. Astarion shudders as she does, the warmed confection raising gooseflesh where it comes into contact with his cool skin.

Job done, Tav waves the hand away, sets the jar aside, and crawls over him once again until she’s near his face. She tilts her head to regard him and then lowers herself while he leans back, exposing the column of his throat to her without a second thought.

Something he’d never have imagined allowing himself to do even a few weeks ago.

He’s rewarded for his trust with her tongue running a hot, wet stripe over his windpipe. Gods, his cock aches to be touched, but this feels too good to stop. He hums his approval.

Tav’s mouth is an erotic dream as it follows the trail of chocolate across his body, warm and soft and welcoming. When she closes her lips over a nipple and gently sucks, Astarion’s back arches and he groans.

By the time she gets to his navel, his breath is heavy with lust as he watches her tongue swirl and dip inside.

If he doesn’t take a moment to collect himself, he’s going to forget his own name.

Sluggishly, he reaches out to take a handful of hair at the back of her head and pull. Not hard, not to hurt. Just enough to attract her attention and get her to look at him, lips shining and kiss-swollen. Another wave of electric arousal washes through him.

“Are we going to have sex?” he asks, voice low and breathy.

Tav blinks slowly at him. “I’d like that,” she says.

He swallows. “Then you’d better disrobe, darling. You’re terribly overdressed.”

With a bright laugh, she places one more openmouthed kiss near his hipbone and stands so she can undo the buttons of her robe, letting the material fall loosely around her shoulders as she goes. While she’s preoccupied, Astarion manages his own clothing, pulling the ties of his trousers loose and shoving everything down over his hips, his hard cock springing free at last. He takes it in hand and sits up straight just as Tav wriggles out of her smallclothes, standing stark naked before him with her clothing pooling on the floor.

Immediately and with a neediness he hasn’t properly felt in years, Astarion pumps his cock with his left hand and grips Tav’s hip with his right, pulling her in close as he brings his mouth to her cunt and gives her a kiss of her own, tongue stroking and exploring whatever he can reach from this angle. Above him, Tav gasps at the sensation, nearly doubling over in surprise, her fingers twisting into his hair.

“Wait, wait,” she says, breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. “I’m… I’m not done.”

He releases her reluctantly and reclines again. She goes back onto her knees and recalls her mage hand, taking more chocolate. Her eyes never leave his cock as she uses her magic to drizzle chocolate over his hips, his thighs, and, of course…

Astarion lets his head fall back as the warmed chocolate drips down his cock, his breath coming tight and short. The heat of her tongue swirls over one of his hip bones, then the other. By the time she reaches the creases of his thighs, he’s quivering in anticipation. He makes sure to lift his head just in time to watch her catch his eye and run the flat of her tongue over the underside of his length from root to tip.

“Ah, fuck,” he sighs, scraping his nails over the blanket-covered ground.

Tav looks deep into him as she licks the split on the underside of the head, making certain to get every bit she spilled. Her beautiful lips pout slightly to give the tip of his cock a proper kiss. Then they part and she takes him down, down, down, every aching inch.

“Gods, Antava,” he groans, abdomen clenching and shuddering as roiling heat blooms in his core. “Yes.”

She hums back at him in response, moving her head in a steady rhythm, alternating between licking and sucking. He must be clean of chocolate by now, but she doesn’t stop, and Astarion isn’t complaining. He hasn’t experienced head this good in ages and watching her lips work over his cock is undeniably hot.

A minute or so later, she pulls off him with a wet pop, eyes glazed over with want as she puffs hot breath over his spit-slick cock.

“Anywhere else you’d like-” she starts, but he’s already reaching down to pull her face toward his.

“Come here,” he growls, pulling her mouth back to his in a desperate kiss, pulling her body in close to his until they’re skin to skin, his cock trapped between them. Unbidden, his hips roll, grinding into her belly.

Panting, she pushes up on her knees to hover above his lap and casts another spell under her breath, drawing any remaining chocolate from his skin and casting it aside.

“What was that?” he breathes.

“Prestidigitation spell,” she breathes back, putting a hand firmly on each of his shoulders. “I don’t fancy getting thrush, personally.”

And with that, she lowers herself toward the floor, finding the tip of his cock with her entrance and sinking onto it. If Astarion thought her mouth was incredible, he had no idea. He curls his hips up to meet hers with a broken moan, palming her arse with one hand and running the other up over her spine until it’s wrapped around the nape of her neck. He buries his face into the crook of her neck and breathes her in. He grinds up into her, buried to the hilt in her delicious heat.

She meets his passion, rolling her hips against his in a steady rhythm as she leans her head to one side to give him better access to her neck, panting near his ear. His fingertips dig into the ample flesh of her backside, guiding her as they fuck deep. He groans, holding her closer as they pick up speed, needily licking and nipping at the skin of her neck.

“Ah, ah, Tav, ah,” he manages against her shoulder, voice dark with lust. And he isn’t even faking it. Not this time.

She doesn’t respond beyond the quiet cries rising from her chest, but she palms the back of his head and presses his mouth to her neck until he can feel the thrumming pulse there. That’s surely an invitation if he’s ever had one.

Astarion bites, her heated blood flowing immediately from the punctures to coat his tongue in metallic vitality, rich and ever-so-slightly sweet. An echo of the sugar on her tongue. He drinks, and drinks, and forces himself away before he takes too much. When he pulls back, mouth stained red, Tav’s right there to capture him in a kiss. It’s salt and sugar, blood and chocolate.

Tension rises and threatens to snap, the promise of pleasurable release circling ever closer. In anticipation, Astarion reaches between them to press a thumb to her swollen clit, and Tav cries out, her rocking intensifying as she chases her climax.

Astarion says something then that he hasn’t said sincerely in a while.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he pants.

“Me too,” Tav murmurs.

Then she does, core tightening and thighs clenching on either side of his hips as she pulses around his cock, the space between them going slick. With a guttural groan, Astarion presses into her as deep as he can go and finds his own release, shivering through his peak as he spills inside her.

Before either can catch their breath, they’re kissing again, swallowing the pleasure that courses through them.

They stay in place for a long moment, clinging to one another and kissing deep.

After they come down and separate to clean up and redress, Astarion sends a glance her way.

He clears his throat. “So, what changed?” he asks, forcibly casual.

“What do you mean?” she says as she adjusts her robe and twists her hair up into a knot.

Astarion waves a hand through the air. “Just curious when your obvious lust for me won out over your self-preservation instincts,” he teases.

Tav pauses in setting her hair and looks at him with an arched brow. “Is that why you think I didn’t sleep with you before?” she says. “Because I was afraid of you?”

He shrugs. “Why else?”

She drops her hands to her sides with a laugh. “I didn’t think you really wanted me, before. Your proposition felt… hollow.”

Astarion’s muscles freeze in place like he’s been caught in a spotlight. He catches himself quickly, blinking, and attempts to play it off. “Hm. And this time?”

Tav walks past him, brushing his shoulder and giving him a knowing look from under her lashes as she bends down to retrieve the enchanted jar so she can press it back into his hand. The warmth between them lingers.

She smiles.

“This time,” she says, hand still on his. “You brought me chocolate. And a little honesty.”

Then she turns and walks away, Astarion staring after her.

He takes a breath, fingers tight around the jar.

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #kitten writes #bg3 #ask box

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maria021015 · 9 days ago

Text

The One Time She Said Yes

Fred Weasley x FemReader

All of the times Fred Weasley asked y/n to marry him. And the one time she said yes.

Warnings: Angst, Canon Character death

———————————————————————

The Burrow always smelled comforting. Like cinnamon and sun-warmed grass.

It was a golden afternoon in late summer, and the mismatched garden behind the Burrow buzzed with dragonflies and laughter. Well, had buzzed, until about ten minutes ago, when a small girl with grass-stained knees and a pout bigger than the sky had been told by Charlie and Bill that “this game’s for big kids, sorry.”

Now she sat beneath a sagging old apple tree, chin in her hands, eyes watery and red-rimmed. Her little floral dress was wrinkled and half her hair had come loose from the ribbon her mum had carefully tied that morning.

That’s how Fred found her.

He’d only come out to tell her that Molly said it was time for juice and treacle tart, but when he saw her sitting there all small and sad and scrunching her fists like she was about to cry again, everything else kind of melted away.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching down beside her. “D’you wanna play with me? We’ve got a dress-up box. George says he wants to be a prince, but princes are boring.”

She sniffled and looked over at him, lashes wet.“You don’t think I’m too little?”

Fred scrunched his nose. “You’re not little. You beat Percy at Exploding Snap twice last week.”

That earned the tiniest smile. “Okay,” she mumbled.

They trailed into the Burrow hand in hand. Molly barely blinked at the trail of glitter, mismatched fabrics, and toy swords they left behind as they rummaged through the dress-up box. By the time they reemerged, Fred was wearing a wizards hat and an oversized waistcoat that dragged behind him like a cape, and she wore a tulle skirt over her clothes and a flower crown that slipped too far to one side.

“You be the fairy queen,” Fred said importantly, striking a pose with a crooked plastic wand, “and I’ll be the wizard knight who saves you from the goblins.”

“But I don’t need saving!” she said proudly, puffing up.

Fred grinned, a little gap in his front teeth where one had fallen out last week. “Alright, then I’ll be the goblin.”

They ran around the garden for ages, casting spells, banishing invisible trolls, and laughing until their cheeks hurt. Eventually, breathless and tangled in old tulle and the buzz of imagination, they collapsed onto a patch of soft grass near the gnome-warren.

Fred was quiet for a moment. Then, with the kind of sudden gravity only a six-year-old like him could muster, he turned toward her and asked, “Will you marry me?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Marry me. Like Mum and Dad. I’ll build you a castle with fairy lights, and we’ll eat chocolate frogs for breakfast.”

She giggled, the sound sticky-sweet and sunlit. “That’s silly, Freddie.”

“Is not!”

“You can’t marry people when you’re six.”

He frowned, pouting. “Why not?”

“Because we’re too little,” she insisted, like it was obvious. “But…ask me again when we’re big. Maybe I’ll say yes then.”

Fred beamed. “Okay. I will.”

And he meant it.

———————————————————————

The living room at the Burrow looked like a battlefield.

Dice lay scattered across the rug like fallen soldiers. Game cards were stuck under couch cushions. The air smelled like biscuits, old books, and the distinct electricity of a thunderstorm rolling in beyond the hills.

They’d been playing for hours. The rest of the Weasley siblings had already given up and moved on to different activities, but not y/n and Fred.

Fred sat cross-legged across from her, his nose wrinkled in concentration as he narrowed his eyes at the board between them. She was chewing the end of a sugar quill, gaze locked onto her final move.

“Don’t do it,” Fred warned dramatically, throwing out an arm. “It’ll end in tears.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re losing.”

“I’m saying that because I’m about to lose, and I can feel it in my spleen.”

“You don’t even know what a spleen is!” She giggled, eyes bright with triumph as she placed her final piece.

The board groaned, a puff of confetti burst from the centre, and the enchanted scoreboard flashed her name in dancing letters that sparkled obnoxiously in pink and gold: GRAND VICTOR: Y/N!

Fred fell back with a loud groan, covering his face with both hands. “NOOOO. Not again!”

“That’s three games in a row,” she said smugly, twirling the sugar quill like a wand. “You said you were going to crush me this time.”

Fred peeked between his fingers. “I still won though.”

“In what universe?”

“Because you played with me. You know, I won in a romantic sense.”

She froze, blinking.

Fred immediately sat up, flushing as if he only just realized what he said. His ears were turning pink, and he picked at the frayed hem of his jumper like it might offer him a way out.

“Wha…what does that even mean?” she asked slowly.

“I dunno,” he muttered. “Just…y’know. I still have fun playing with you even when you beat me at everything.”

“You’re weird.”

Fred puffed out his chest. “My dad says the best people are.”

She rolled her eyes and stood to start packing away the pieces. Fred helped, quietly at first, then asked, not quite casually, “D’you remember that time I asked you to marry me? When we were little?”

She looked up from folding the scoreboard. “Yeah. In the garden. You said we’d eat chocolate frogs for breakfast.”

“Still a solid plan,” he grinned. “So. I was thinking…now we’re older, maybe I should ask again.”

She blinked, startled. “Wait, now?”

Fred shrugged one shoulder, gaze flicking up but not quite meeting hers. “You’re my best friend. And if I’m gonna marry anyone someday, I want it to be you.”

There was no laugh this time. She studied him for a beat too long, then broke into a grin. “Fred, we’re ten.”

“I know. I’m not actually proposing! It’s just…practice. Y’know. For future proposals. Gotta start somewhere.”

“Well then you need to practice losing,” she teased, flicking a game piece at him. “That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”

Fred clutched his chest like she’d mortally wounded him. “You wound me.”

“You dramatic toad,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “But fine. Ask me again when you’re much older. Like seventeen.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Seventeen?”

“Yeah. You’ll be all tall and mature by then, right?”

Fred’s mouth quirked. “Debatable.”

“Then we’ll see,” she said, already turning away.

Fred watched her go, chest fluttering, and whispered under his breath to the empty room, “Seventeen it is, then.”

———————————————————————

The summer sun was blistering, a relentless orange blaze overhead that turned the Weasleys’ backyard into a sweltering arena of cracked grass, scattered broomsticks, and discarded jumpers. The garden smelled like honeysuckle and sweat, mingled with the distant aroma of smoke from the kitchen. Molly must’ve started dinner.

Y/n’s family was visiting again, as they always did during the summer. Except now, y/n also got to see the Weasley children at Hogwarts, where they all attended school. She and the twins were in their third year now, and little Ron had also just finished his first year at school. He was nowhere to be seen now, though. Probably off writing a letter to his new best friend, Harry Potter.

Y/n and the twins had taken their time to play a rather long game of quidditch in the field. Fred hovered above the makeshift pitch in a lazy loop, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, his broom handle warm beneath his palms. Below him, George was shouting something incoherent about cheating, but Fred wasn’t listening.

His eyes were on her. She rocketed across the sky like a streak of starlight, her clothes clinging to her frame in the wind, hair whipping in all directions. She leaned into her turn, cut through the air, spun hard, and smack! The Quaffle went sailing straight through the middle hoop like she’d done it in her sleep.

“HA!” she shouted triumphantly, fists thrown in the air as her broom dipped and coasted toward the ground.

Fred’s jaw dropped.

George groaned. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m retiring. I can’t keep being destroyed like this.”

“You’re just mad she’s better than you,” Fred teased automatically, still watching her as she touched down, cheeks flushed from exertion, eyes sparkling with pride.

“Better than you, too,” she said, turning to him with a smug look. “I believe that was my fifth goal.”

“I wasn’t even keeping score,” Fred said, half-defensive, half-in-awe. “It’s hard to count when I’m being dazzled.”

She arched a brow, brushing sweat-damp hair out of her face. “Dazzled?”

He swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry his throat was. “Yeah. By your…uh. Aerodynamic excellence.”

George made a gagging noise somewhere behind them. “I’m going inside. Mum! They’re being weird again!”

The door slammed behind him. They were alone now. The wind had picked up slightly, brushing warm air across the field, fluttering the edges of her sleeves.

Fred cleared his throat and kicked at the dirt with one scuffed trainer. “You were really good today.”

She glanced at him sideways, suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!”

“Liar.”

“Okay, maybe I do want something,” he admitted, grinning.

She smirked and leaned against her broom, letting it rest across her shoulders like a bat. “I’m listening.”

Fred took a step closer, the sun catching on the reddish highlights in his hair. “I just…was thinking. You’ve got killer aim, a terrifying poker face, and you’re possibly the coolest person I know.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the compliment hidden in his joke. “Fred—”

“And,” he cut in quickly, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, “I think you should marry me.”

There it was. Out again.

She snorted. Loud. “What?!”

“C’mon,” he said, shrugging one shoulder but watching her closely. “Just imagine it! Quidditch every weekend, breakfast food for dinner, and I’ll let you win every board game if you say yes.”

She gave him a look, eyes narrowed, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. “You’d let me win?”

“I always let you win,” he said, deadpan.

She took a slow step forward, letting her broom fall to the ground as she closed the distance between them. “You’re an idiot.”

Fred grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

“No,” she said, laughing now, shaking her head as she walked past him. “It’s a you’re-an-idiot. When are you going to stop joking about that?”

He turned to follow her, something flickering in his chest. “Who says I’m not being serious?”

She paused, just for a second. It was the kind of pause that lingered longer than it should’ve. Like maybe the words had landed deeper than either of them expected. Her gaze met his, and he couldn’t read it this time. There was something guarded there. A flicker of something just out of reach.

Then she smiled, crooked and careless. “Because you never are. You joke about everything.”

Fred watched her walk away, barefoot and fearless, as the wind lifted her hair from her shoulders.

He wanted to call out after her. Tell her that he would never joke about her.

He didn’t.

———————————————————————

The night hung heavy and velvet-black above the castle, stars scattered across the sky like spilled secrets. It was late - long past curfew - but the Astronomy Tower had always been their place. The highest point at Hogwarts, cloaked in quiet and cool wind, forgotten by prefect patrols too lazy to climb that many stairs.

She pushed the wooden door open with a creak, the chill night air slipping over her skin as she stepped out onto the stone platform. Fred was already there, perched on the edge of the low wall with one leg swinging carelessly into the dark. A half-empty bottle of Firewhisky dangled from his hand, glinting amber in the starlight.

“Nice of you to show up,” he slurred, grinning when he saw her.

It wasn’t odd for her to find him up here. It was one of the only times she’d see him at school without George by his side. It also didn’t surprise her to see the bottle of grog in his hand. It had been a stressful year, after all. Umbridge had made sure of it. In fact, if the witch were to catch them up her she was sure they’d be severely punished. Maybe even expelled.

“You said it was urgent,” she replied, arms crossed, voice dry. “I thought one of your inventions went wrong. Not that you’d climbed onto the roof with contraband.”

Fred wiggled the bottle invitingly. “Not just contraband. Premium bad decisions.”

She sighed, stepping closer. “How much have you had?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Enough to finally be brave, I think.”

“Brave or stupid?” she muttered, taking the bottle from him and setting it down safely on the stone ledge.

Fred didn’t answer. He was looking at her with a softness that made her stomach twist - eyes half-lidded, hair wind-tousled, face flushed from the Firewhisky and the cold. “George and I are leaving. Tomorrow. We’re not coming back. Can’t put up with that vile toad anymore.”

She pursed her lips as something in her abdomen churned uncomfortably. “I was wondering when it would finally happen.” She admitted. She’d noticed that the twins were at their wits end lately. Really it was only a matter of time before they took off, leaving her behind.

“You should come with us.” Something behind his gaze almost begged her.

“You know I can’t. I need to finish school,” she shook her head. But she wished she could say yes. He nodded, taking another solemn swig from the bottle.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, “you look like the moonlight’s in love with you.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his borderline nonsensical words. “You’re drunk.”

“Drunk. Not blind.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she fought to keep her voice steady. “Okay, that’s it. You’re going to bed.”

Fred reached out, caught her wrist before she could move away. “Wait.”

She stilled. His fingers were warm. His grip gentle. Hesitant.

“D’you remember,” he said slowly, “that summer when we were ten? We were playing board games and I asked you to marry me. You told me to wait til we were seventeen.” Fred smiled, boyish and unsteady, but somehow painfully sincere. “So…am I tall and mature yet?”

She didn’t speak right away. Her heart beat against her ribs like a trapped snitch.

“Fred…”

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes locked on hers now. “I know I joke all the time, but I’m not joking now. I want…I want to marry you someday. Properly. I’ve wanted it since we were five. Since that stupid game in the garden. Since always.”

Her throat tightened. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow.”

“Yes I will,” he insisted, voice rising with stubbornness. “I will. I’ll write it down. I’ll carve it into the back of my hand if I have to.”

She laughed, but it came out watery. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. “Not about you. Never about you.”

She swallowed the ache in her chest and slowly crouched in front of him, tucking a windblown curl behind his ear. Her fingers lingered there longer than they should have. “You’re drunk, Freddie.”

“But I love you,” he said, quiet and sure.

She closed her eyes for half a second. Just one half-second of weakness. “I know.”

Silence hung between them like breath before a kiss. And then, she shook her head.

“You’re going to bed.”

“No—wait, please—just—”

She tugged gently on his arm, helping him down from the ledge. He stumbled a bit, and she caught him, letting his weight lean into hers as they started the slow descent from the tower.

His voice, sleepy now, mumbled against her shoulder. “You said…seventeen…”

“I know what I said.” She didn’t let him see the way her eyes burned, the way her lip trembled.“I just didn’t think you’d be asking me when you could barely stand upright.”

Fred let out a soft breath, something like a laugh. “Still gonna ask again. Next time maybe you’ll say yes.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t tell him that part of her - maybe most of her - wanted to say yes right there. Had wanted to for years. But not like this. Not with whisky on his breath and wobble in his knees. Not when she couldn’t trust that he still meant it. Not when he was leaving tomorrow and she would be stuck here at Hogwarts. Not when she had no idea where either of them would be this time next year.

She got him to bed, helped him out of his shoes, brushed the hair from his forehead as he blinked up at her with glassy eyes and a crooked, hopeless smile.

“You love me too,” he whispered.

Her heart cracked. She leaned down, pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft and shaking. “I do.”

But he was already asleep.

———————————————————————

The Burrow had never looked so magical. Golden lanterns floated like fireflies above the garden, casting a warm, flickering glow over rows of white-draped tables and dancing guests. Strings of enchanted fairy lights tangled around tree branches around the floating marquee. Fleur looked radiant, Bill dashing, and everything - the laughter, the wine, the music - felt like the start of something instead of the end of a world teetering on the edge.

She stood near the fringe of the celebration, a half-full glass of champagne in hand and the soft hum of the wedding band playing behind her. Her dress was a deep shade of emerald that made her skin glow in the candlelight, her hair pinned up with little sprigs of baby’s breath.

It was one of the few moments in recent memory where she didn’t feel like a war was looming just beyond the trees.

And then—

“Merlin’s beard,” came the familiar, amused voice from behind her, “they let you into a place like this looking that fancy?”

She turned. Fred Weasley was standing there. Clean-shaven, hair wind-tousled as always, a slightly askew bow tie hanging loose at his collar and a glass in his hand that was suspiciously not his first. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him, but then again, he was. His smile was crooked, but his eyes were soft, and they scanned her like she was a memory made real again.

“Fred,” she said, her breath catching a little.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. “Still as full of yourself as ever.”

“Absolutely,” he said proudly. “Although, I’m still trying to recover from the emotional trauma of seeing you walk in tonight. I mean, bloody hell, you’ve grown up.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Oh, flattered,” he said easily, stepping closer, his gaze lingering on her just long enough to make her cheeks warm. “Definitely flattered.”

A moment passed, too long to be casual. Then he tilted his head toward the dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to - she did, and desperately so - but because her heart had spent too many years pretending it didn’t still skip at the sight of him.

But she nodded anyway. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

He offered his hand with an exaggerated bow, and she took it, letting him lead her into the sea of swaying bodies and floating lanterns. The music was soft and old-fashioned. A violin wept gently above a lilting piano. He held her hand in his and settled the other lightly against her waist. They fit together like a memory.

“So,” he murmured, “Healer, huh?”

“So you’ve been keeping track?” She smiled up at him. “St Mungo’s. Spell damage ward. Long hours. Screaming patients. You know, glamorous.”

He grinned. “Saving lives and breaking hearts, I imagine.”

She nudged him with her hip. “And what about you? I hear Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes has lines out the door.”

“Oh, we’re wildly successful,” he said dramatically. “Money. Fame. Adoring fans. It’s exhausting, really.”

She laughed, and his smile softened.

“I’m glad,” she said quietly, after a pause. “That you’re happy. You and George…you deserve it.”

Something flickered in his expression. “Yeah. We’re lucky.”

The song slowed. The light caught in her hair. And for a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, “I missed you,” he said softly.

Her throat tightened. “I missed you too.”

“I thought about writing,” he added, his voice low. “But I figured you were busy becoming a real adult and didn’t have time for a clown like me.”

“You’re not a clown,” she said. “You’ve never been.”

Their eyes met. There it was again, that same pull, that unspoken thing that had been dancing between them since they were seventeen and drunk on the Astronomy Tower.

“We should’ve tried,” he said suddenly. “Back then. When we had the chance.”

“I know,” she whispered.

His hand slipped lower on her back, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “We could try now.”

Her heart stumbled. “What?”

“There’s still time for you to marry me.” It wasn’t a joke.

There was no teasing grin, no punchline waiting. Just Fred, holding her like she was something fragile and burning, saying the words like they’d been waiting in his mouth since they were kids.

“Fred…” she whispered.

“I mean it.” He gave a breathless laugh. “Look at us. You’re stunning, and I’m…well, at least I’m charming. That’s gotta count for something.”

She stared at him, mouth parting to answer. And that’s when it happened. A bang cracked through the garden, loud and unnatural. The music stopped. People screamed.

A silver otter Patronus shot across the air, swirling above the crowd. “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

Gasps broke the quiet. Plates clattered to the ground. Wands were drawn. And then, before anyone could move, black figures began to appear at the edge of the clearing - hooded, masked, radiating menace.

“Death Eaters!” someone screamed.

Fred pulled her behind him without thinking, wand out in an instant. “Go!” he shouted to her over the panic. “Get out of here!”

“No! Not without you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he lied. “Just go—”

A jet of green light sliced the air between them.

Fred flung a shield charm, but the blast knocked them apart. She hit the ground hard, vision spinning. In the chaos - spells flying, guests screaming, tables flipping - she caught one last glimpse of him, red hair flaming under the dark sky as he dueled back-to-back with George, fearless.

She shouted his name. He didn’t hear her.

And as another curse exploded far too close, she was yanked backward by Charlie Weasley, who wrapped an arm around her and Disapparated them both out into the cold, dark night.

———————————————————————

The air was thick with smoke and fear. Spells lit the night like lightning. Screams echoed down every corridor. The world was ending one brick at a time, and she was tearing through the rubble like a ghost in search of a tether - desperate, driven, breathless.

The last year had been hard on everyone. War had torn families apart, sent people into hiding. Y/n had been on the run, fleeing death eaters left and right, there had been no time for anything else but surviving to fight another day. She hadn’t seen the Weasley twins - hadn’t seen Fred - since Fleur and Bill’s wedding.

Her feet pounded across the flagstone floor of the Entrance Hall, boots soaked in something too dark to name. She ducked behind the crumbling statue of Gregory the Smarmy, heart hammering against her ribs like it wanted out, like it needed to find him too.

Fred. She had to find Fred.

The war was deafening, duels flaring all around, bodies falling in corners she didn’t let herself look too closely at. All she could see, all she could feel, was his face the last time they were both here. That sleepy grin from the Astronomy Tower. The way he said, “You love me too.”

He was right. And she was going to tell him.

“MOVE!” she yelled, pushing past a stunned first-year being ushered toward the Great Hall by a terrified Hufflepuff prefect.

A shockwave rattled the windows as something exploded above the grand staircase. Dust rained down like ash. Somewhere in the chaos, she heard Bellatrix Lestrange laughing, and her skin went cold.

But then she caught sight of Molly Weasley, stood near the base of the stairs. Her wand was raised, her hair wild with battle and her robes scorched at the hem. Her chest heaved with exhaustion, but when she turned and saw y/n, her face crumpled in sudden relief.

“Oh, thank Merlin—” Molly surged forward, grabbing her into a fierce hug.

“I came back to fight,” she gasped into Molly’s shoulder. “I couldn’t stay away.”

Molly pulled back, cupping her face in both trembling hands. “Of course you did, love. Brave girl.”

“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice sharp and panicked now. “Fred. I need to find Fred. I need to tell him—”

Molly paused, and something gentle came into her expression. Something knowing. “Oh,” she breathed, eyes shining.

She nodded rapidly, too choked up to speak. “I can’t wait anymore. I just…I love him. I always have. And I can’t…if something happens before I—”

Molly wrapped her arms around her again, tighter this time. “You go, darling. You go tell him. He and George were defending the Room of Requirement - the passageway to Hogsmeade. He’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes wet, throat tight.

“Go,” Molly said, tears in her voice. “Go get our boy.”

She didn’t hesitate. She took off running again, weaving through chaos, through bodies and broken glass and echoing cries. The castle was bleeding. Its stone walls cracked and scorched, its staircases broken, its portraits either vacant or weeping. But she kept going, dodging curses and dodging death, clutching her wand tight to her chest like a compass pointing north.

Fred. Fred. Fred.

That was her mantra.

The Room of Requirement was near. She could hear shouting - his voice, unmistakably loud even under duress.

She rounded the corner just in time to see him. He stood in front of the shattered stone doors that led to the Room of Requirement, wand at the ready, George beside him and blood streaking his cheek. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts as he cast spell after spell, holding the line like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Even now, even covered in dust and sweat and blood, he looked like home.

She stumbled forward, heart in her throat. “FRED!”

He turned at the sound of her voice. Their eyes locked across the broken corridor, over the sea of chaos.

BOOM.

The world went white. A violent spell tore through the stone above them, and the ceiling exploded. The wall beside the Room of Requirement collapsed inward. Screams erupted. A flash of heat, of light, of fire.

“No. NO!” she screamed, sprinting forward as the debris settled, a thick cloud of dust rising like smoke from a pyre.

George’s voice rang out first, raw and panicked. “FRED?!”

She dropped to her knees, hands already digging through the rubble, ignoring the searing pain in her arms, the gash on her temple. She ripped at the stones, pulled away wood and plaster and whatever else had buried him as George’s wand went to work doing the same.

“Please,” she sobbed, fingers bloody. “Please, no, not like this—”

A hand, still warm, reached out through the rubble.

“Fred, Fred, I’ve got you. Don’t move—” She uncovered his face, half-buried beneath broken stone. His eyes fluttered open, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. She let out a strangled sob, brushing the dust from his cheek, her hands trembling. “Don’t move. I’m getting help. Madam Pomfrey…someone—”

“No,” he whispered, catching her wrist with what little strength he had left. “No time. Just…stay. Please.”

She shook her head violently, blinking tears from her eyes as she tried to clear more debris from his chest, from his legs, from the place the wall had caved in and crushed him. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, I swear—”

“Look at me,” he rasped. She froze. His eyes were unfocused. But they were on her. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said, voice quiet, slurred with pain. “You know I don’t have long. I just…I just wanna look at you. One last time.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

Fred blinked slowly. “Told George you’d show up…didn’t believe me…”

She cradled his face in her palms, brushing the blood away, the tears falling freely now. “You idiot. You absolute idiot. You don’t get to die before I tell you.”

“Tell me what?” he rasped, barely audible.

“That I love you.” Her voice cracked. “That I’ve always loved you. That I was waiting for the right time, and I was wrong. There’s never a right time. I should’ve told you when we were kids, when you asked me again and again and I kept saying no. I should’ve said yes.”

Fred smiled through the pain. “Finally. You know I’ve got to ask—”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head again, tears falling freely now. “Don’t you dare…don’t you dare say it.”

“I have to,” he insisted, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth where blood was bubbling past his lips. “It’s tradition.”

“Fred—”

“Please,” he said softly. “Let me ask one last time.”

And then, through the pain, through the blood, through the smoke of a burning world, he looked at her like he always had - like she was the only real thing that had ever existed - and said: “Will you marry me?”

It shattered what was left of her heart, the shards puncturing her lungs and stealing her breath.

All the years. All the laughter. The stolen glances. The nights spent side-by-side pretending not to feel what they both did. The almost-kisses. The failed timing. The jokes that weren’t really jokes at all.

He had always meant it. And she had always loved him.

“Yes,” she whispered, lowering her forehead to his, tears falling onto his shirt, her hands cradling his face. “Yes. I’ll marry you. I love you.”

Fred let out a soft sound, half a laugh, half a sigh. “Took you long enough.”

His hand found hers, fingers tightening with the last of his strength. His eyes stilled. And the warmth left his fingers.

Her breath caught. Her body locked. She stared down at the boy she had loved since childhood, the boy who had asked her six times - and the one time she’d said yes, the war had already taken him.

The castle was still imploding around them, but all she could hear was silence. She pressed her lips to his forehead. Her tears dripped onto his skin.

She didn’t scream. There wasn’t any breath left in her.

She just leaned into his chest and sobbed in silence. Not because she didn’t want anyone to hear her grief, but because no sound in the world could hold the weight of losing him.

Nothing could pull her mind away from replaying those final moments. Not when George - shaking and crying - pulled her away from him. Not when the fighting stopped. Not when they carried Fred’s body back to the great hall. Not when Molly hugged her and broke down. Not when George and her fought side by side until Dawn broke. Not in the hours after the battle ended. Not for days. Weeks. Months.

Even years later she would never forget Fred Weasley. He was always hers. Until the day they would finally meet again.

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #wizarding world

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youleftmenochoicebut · 6 months ago

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HATE TO BE LAME — james potter.

SUMMARY. — three times you almost tell James you love him + the one time you actually do.

PAIRING. — james potter x fem!childhoodbsf!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, angst, uhm… death? if smth else here may be triggering lmk, im still kinda learning all this

A/N. — sorry for cross-tagging! i think i only did on that first post, haven’t done it on the rest and def won’t do it again!

1970.

you’re sitting by an old oak tree, laying back against it, holding an apple in your hand. you throw it up in the air then catch it without much fuss, having been doing this for almost thirty minutes. it’s getting pretty boring, waiting for your bestfriend in your usual meeting spot.

the wheat field you and James have made your personal hang out place is perfectly centered between your houses, both of you having the same amount of road to pass to get here, and it’s been your favorite since forever.

most of the time, like right now, you meet to fly around and practice on your broomsticks, even though you’re too young to even have them. perks of being born in wizarding families that teach magic and all from the moment you’re born.

another heavy sigh leaves your lips, and you bite into your apple, chewing on it completely. the summer’s merciless this year, the temperatures especially high for britain, and the heat pisses you off even more than James being late.

you stand up after eating your apple, gathering your stuff annoyed, when he finally shows up. you hear him first, only then see him when you turn around.

“hi there, mate!” he calls out, clutching his broomstick in his hand as he practically runs to you, and you look at him unamused.

“you’re late, Jamie.” your lips quiver, and you cross your hands over your chest, quickly moving back to picking up your toys and others. “almost an hour.”

“i know, i’m sorry!” he groans softly, approaching you with an apologetic but still goofy smile, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “my mum made me tidy my room first. even under my bed! it was a nightmare!”

you pout, mulling over your options for an answer, careful eyes set on him and sliding over his form. his curls are messed up (you can see a spider web cling to them all the way from here), the glasses on his nose askew, and he’s breathing faster, probably running to you from home the whole way. you slowly nod, putting your things down again.

“i made you a wreath when i was waiting for you.” you say as you search through your bag, then pull out the wreath, motioning him to sit down in the shadows under the oak. the wreath is clumsy, but nonetheless pretty, mostly made of wild flowers, poppies and daisies.

you place it on his head, smiling when you notice his grin only get bigger, and you pull away soon.

“i’m gonna wear it all the time, Y/N!” James exclaims enthusiastically, waving his hands like an excited toddler, and for a while you let him tell you stories. when he mentions going into the nearby river to catch some frogs, you nod, but as he stands up you pull him back down, remembering your mother’s words.

you turn around to your bag, taking out a bottle of sunscreen, then look at him again.

“my mom said that her muggle friend bought her this. it’s a cream to protect you so the sun doesn’t hurt you!” you explain at his surprised expression, and you know you were the same level confused when your mother told you about it.

you squeeze some of that sunscreen onto your palm, from there putting it on James’ face and slowly rubbing it in.

“i think you’re going to be in Hufflepuff.” James murmurs suddenly and you raise your eyebrows, your hands freezing on his cheeks. “you’re just so kind.”

you and James are starting Hogwarts next year and the closer it gets the more excited you two grow, the only fear growing along with your excitement being that of a case where you don’t end up in the same house. with James being sure he’s gonna be a gryffindor, you’re sure you aren’t.

“my whole family’s been in Slytherin.” you shrug, renewing your movements on his face, and you’re trying hard not to chuckle when he makes a stupid face at you.

“well, it doesn’t matter to me!” he tugs at the end of your braid and you push him away playfully, rolling your eyes. “you’re my bestest friend. i’m gonna like you best no matter which house you end up in.”

that’s when it hits you. even thought you’re only ten, even if it doesn’t make sense.

i love you.

i love you, it rings out in your head like an alarm clock going off, i love you.

the words almost slip past your lips, but you manage to happily crook out something else instead.

“you’re the bestest, Jamie.”

1975.

“Y/N, stop running!” James groans as his eyes follow you around the huge room. you, him, Sirius and Peter have been doing the whole ordeal to become animagi for a good few weeks, and now that everything was done, the only thing left was to actually change.

the boys… aren’t having it, for sure. Peter’s all red on his chubby face, panting heavily, Sirius is deeply focused on the task (trying to act like a dog in hopes it’ll just work like that), James only has his eyes on you while Remus just reads a book in the corner of the room.

and you’ve actually managed to change into your animagi form after only a few hours of trying, now running around the room of requirement in your tiny arctic fox body, little tongue out cutely.

you stop in front of James, tilting your head, and then just reach out your paw to put it on his knee. he lets out a relieved sigh before you take off again, your claws making almost a clicking sound against the floor as you run over to lay down in Remus’ lap.

“oh, c’mon, mate! stop bragging, will ya?” James huffs, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. you whine, and Remus scratches you behind your ear, making you roll onto your back playfully. “Y/N, i’m not joking. change back.”

if you could, you would roll your eyes right now, jumping off Remus and freezing in place for a moment. it’s the first time you turn back into human form, and neither of you know how it’s actually gonna go.

so, mere seconds later, you’re laying naked on the floor in front of four teenage boys. Sirius smirks, but turns his gaze away soon enough, Peter looks away so quickly he bumps his head against the wall, and Remus doesn’t even glance up from his book at you.

James, on the other hand, skips over to you, throwing a blanket over your body. you sigh, suddenly feeling sore from the transformation, and you look at him with a frown.

“you alright?” he asks, reaching out to brush your hair back away from your face, and he gives you a smile.

„yeah.” you whisper, the frown on your face disappearing soon enough as you hear the voice in your head again. it’s quiet at first, growing louder by every second passing with your eyes set on him.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

but you keep your mouth shut, painfully aware of your friends being right behind you.

1977.

it’s snowing outside the castle, and it’s snowing lots. for early december you’d say it’s really a big amount. most of the students are out on the hogwart’s grounds, playing in the white landscape, while you are strolling down the halls with an obstinate expression on your face, holding your wand in your hand tightly.

you’re determined to tell James how you feel. finally, after all those years, you’ve decided it’s time. you bump into someone, only realizing it’s Remus after you’ve passed him, not even registering what he’s said to you. it doesn’t matter now, because you’re going to tell James how you feel and you’re going to live happily ever after.

yeah, right. sure.

you storm into the Gryffindor common room, practically jumping with each step you take, feeling like you could just fly off any second. you see James talking animatedly with Sirius on the couches, and they’re both as excited as you have ever seen them.

„hi, boys!” you skip over to them, ruffling Sirius’ perfectly messy hair, which earns a scoff from him, then turn to James „can i talk to you for a moment?”

„sure, foxy. what’s up?” he takes your wrist, leading you into a secluded corner of the huge space, and you can see him beaming. he’s always like a walking ray of sunshine, but now it’s all so… so much more. „oui, actually, i need to tell you something.”

your heart skips a beat at that. that’s it, you think, he’s gonna confess his undying love for me, for sure. well, the grimace that graces your features after his next words is a clear indicator that’s not true.

„Lily agreed to go on a date with me!” he practically, no scratch that, he definitely yells out, and for a moment you swear you can see his ears move in excitement. „can you believe it? i wanted to try, one last time, and i took Moony’s advice! i went up to her alone, and i just… just asked her. and she said yes.”

you nod, mustering up a small smile, but as James continues to yap along you dissociate. that’s not how it was supposed to go. yeah, of course you always knew James liked Lily. at least, that’s what he’s been telling you. you, and Remus, were never convinced. you’ve thought he liked the thrill, the adrenaline, that he just liked bugging her. apparently not.

you don’t realize you zoned out until his finger pokes your cheek, and your eyes snap back to him. you let out a forced chuckle, nodding again, before you manage to speak.

„that’s great, James.” you say, squeezing his hand with that fake smile on, and he’s too spiraled on the thought of Lily to notice you being off. „i hope Lils knows she just tapped a keeper.”

1978.

„stop messing it up, James.” you grumble as you adjust his bowtie for what must be the thousandth time, your tongue stuck out slightly in concentration as you fiddle with the material. sure, you could do it quickly with magic, but doing it like this makes you calm your own nerves.

„sorry.” he mutters quietly, his eyes darting all around the room before setting on you. you step back after a moment, crossing your arms over your chest while you look him up and down.

all the guests are out in the garden, already waiting for the groom to come out so the ceremony can begin. James looks absolutely handsome in his tuxedo, but honestly there’s not a time where this man doesn’t look fine as hell.

„don’t be nervous. you’re marrying the love of your life.” you smile at him softly, reaching out to smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, trying to keep your heart from sinking lower than it already has. „and if anything, Sirius and I will help you escape.” you add jokingly, winking at him in hopes of loosening up the atmosphere.

after all you’re his best woman. yeah, it sounds weird, but if Sirius is the best man, then you’re the best woman. that’s all you’ll ever be, and you’ve made peace with it. somewhat.

„yeah, foxy. right.” James lets out a heavy breath, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards ever so slightly, and he fixes up his curls once more. „we should go. Lils is all ready probably.”

„before we go…” you sigh, your lips pursing for a beat, your gaze turning gentler. „i love you, Jamie.”

you say those words, even though you know they will be misinterpreted. you say them, even though you’ll never explain them. you say them, and you wish you could see something click in his eyes, something that makes him realize it’s you he should be marrying right now.

you say them, and you watch him cheerfully reply.

„oui, i love you too, Y/N!” he chimes, giving you a hug too quick and too short to be anything more than friends, then takes a step back. „now, c’mon, i gotta get married!”

1981. (status: erased)

you’re here.

you feel your heart race in your chest as you stand in front of the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. it’s been hours since it happened, a week since you last saw them, a day since you last talked to them.

you take a breath, then another one. it’s excruciatingly painful to just breathe, and the cold, almost winter air is not helping with that.

you’re only here because it’s your job. your partner’s off, talking to the neighbors, and you’re supposed to go in and investigate.

you know that someone took Harry to st. Mungo’s, probably one of your own subordinates, so at least you know your godson is safe.

but it doesn’t change the fact, the reality of what’s waiting for you inside.

your steps are slow, unsure, as you make your way inside. the house you had countless happy memories from and about, all of them destroyed now. without the lights on, without the sound of James’ and Harry’s giggles, without Lily’s warm smile, the house feels intimidating. threatening even.

you think of simpler times, or even moments from merely weeks ago, when your whole friend group hang out here. now, all that’s gone. Sirius just got arrested, Peter went missing, Remus locked himself out. Dorcas and Marlene grieved, so did Mary.

the wooden floor creaks underneath your leather boots, and you remember the time when last christmas Sirius hung there mistletoe, not realizing he would have to actually kiss someone else than Remus, and ended up giving plenty of kisses to James when they went in and out of the kitchen passing drinks.

you go past that, walking further into the house, and then you see him. well, not completely for now, just his legs. you can feel the lump in your throat grow bigger, and you swallow, your eyes watering already. you approach the staircase, falling down onto your knees without flinching when they hit the stair in a totally painful angle, and a sob rips through you. you look at the lifeless body of James Potter laying across the stairs, and you cannot control the tears that fall down your face.

you move up a few stairs, now sitting by his head, and you adjust his crooked glasses, feeling the salty taste of your tears on your lips.

„i love you, James.” you whisper shakily as your hand rests over his cheek, and another sob wrecks your body. „i’m going to raise Harry the best as i can, i promise.”

#marauders #james potter #sirius black #the marauders #remus lupin #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter x reader

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glittervame · 5 months ago

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A Date?

Cedric Diggory X FEM! Y/n

Warning: Smut +18 MDI, Wrap it before you tap it, humiliation, overstimulation, praise, eating out, rough sex

Cedric Diggory's gaze drifted away from the parchment he had been meticulously scribing on, scanning the library with an air of contemplation. The flickering embers in the hearth created a cozy ambience, casting a warm, dappled light upon the storied tapestries adorning the ancient stones. His eyes fell upon you, nestled in the embrace of a plush armchair, engrossed in the whimsical tales of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard." The crackling fire painted your features with a soft, flickering glow as you turned the pages of endless words.

With a tentative step, Cedric approached, his Quidditch robes whispering a gentle melody as they brushed against the floor. His smile, a blend of earnestness and courage, grew as he drew closer.

"Y/n," he began, his voice a blend of Hufflepuff politeness and Gryffindor confidence. "I hope I'm not interrupting your reading."

Looking up, you met his gaze, tsurprised but pleased to see him, and closed the book with a soft thump. "Cedric, not at all," you replied, the book, now a silent companion, was laid aside with care. "What's on your mind?" You asked, the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface of your calm demeanor.

He took a moment to compose himself, the gravity of his words apparent in the pause. "Well, I was pondering," he began, his eyes searching yours with a hint of vulnerability. "With Valentine's Day approaching, I thought... would you do me the honor of letting me join you in Hogsmeade next weekend?" The words tumbled out of him, as if he had been rehearsing them all afternoon. "I mean, as a date," he clarified, the pink blush staining his cheeks as he spoke the final two words.

Your heart fluttered like a golden snidget at the Quidditch World Cup. "A date?" you echoed, trying to keep the excitement from your voice.

The chatter faded into the background as you considered his proposal. Cedric's kindness and bravery had always drawn you to him, and the thought of spending a romantic afternoon with him in the snow-dusted streets of Hogsmeade was utterly enchanting. "That sounds wonderful," you said, smiling back. "I'd love to go with you."

Cedric's eyes lit up, and the shy blush deepened. "Really?" The candles floating above cast a warm glow over his chiseled features, making him look even more like a Hufflepuff prince.

"Cedric," you finally said, your voice a soft whisper amidst the crackling fire. "I would love to." The smile that bloomed on his face was worth more than any victory on the Quidditch pitch, and you felt a warmth in your chest that not even the burn of fire whisky could match.

Cedric Diggory and Y/n strolled hand in hand through the enchanting cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, the quaint wizarding village nestled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air was crisp and filled with the sweet scent of chocolate frogs and butterbeer from Honeydukes. The snow-covered rooftops glistened under the soft glow of the street lamps, casting a warm, romantic light on their faces. It was the perfect setting for a Valentine's Day date.

Cedric looked dashing in his yellow sweater with the golden Hufflepuff emblem standing out proudly. His hair had a slight wave to it from the cool breeze, and his eyes sparkled with excitement as they searched for the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the charm of the village. Y/n looked equally radiant in a cozy pink sweater that brought out the gentle blush in her cheeks. The matching scarf was wrapped around her neck, fluttering with the same excitement as her heart.

They approached The Three Broomsticks, the rustic pub famous for its butterbeer and cozy fireside seating. Inside, the crackling fireplace was surrounded by students and couples, all laughing and sharing stories of their time at Hogwarts. Madam Rosmerta, the friendly proprietor, waved them over to an empty table in the corner. "Cedric, dear, it's so nice to see you again and with your lovely girlfriend?" she asked with a smile as she sat them down.

With a twinkle in his eye and a charming smile, he expresses his anticipation to her. "I do indeed hope it's soon, Miss," he says, his voice warm and inviting as he follows Y/n's lead to a cozy booth nestled near the crackling fireplace.

They ordered two butterbeers and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and a bowl of chocolate to share, the warmth of the drink and the sweetness of the fruit a delightful contrast to the chilly air outside. As they sipped, Cedric leaned in closer, his eyes meeting Y/n's with a gentle gaze. "Thank you for agreeing to come out with me today," he said, his voice low and earnest.

Y/n blushed and took a small sip of her butterbeer, the foam sticking to her upper lip in a way that Cedric found utterly endearing. "It's perfect," she replied, smiling. "I've never been to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day before.”

"so what do you want to do after school?" He inquires, his curiosity piqued by the thought of their futures intertwining.

Y/n pondered for a moment, her gaze drifting to the flickering flames of the fire. "I've always wanted to travel," she said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "See the world, maybe help people with travel to Brazil and study Herbology. What about you?"

Cedric nodded thoughtfully. "I've considered joining the Auror Department," he said. "I want to make a difference, like my dad did."

The conversation flowed naturally, as they shared their hopes and dreams for the future, the warmth of the fireplace and the sweetness of the butterbeer creating a comfortable, intimate atmosphere. They talked about everything from Quidditch to their favorite classes and even delved into the more serious topics of what they'd do after graduation.

As the evening grew darker, the lights from the candles above flickered, casting a warm glow over their table. Madam Rosmerta began to dim the lights, adding to the romantic ambiance. Cedric's hand found Y/n's under the table, and he gently laced their fingers together. The contact sent a thrill through her, and she looked up at him, her heart fluttering in her chest.

He leaned closer, and Y/n could feel his breath against her cheek. "Y/n," he murmured, "I know we've only just started getting to know each other, but I think there's something special between us."

Y/n's heart raced, and she felt a swell of emotion in her chest. "I think so too, Cedric," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

He leaned in closer still, his eyes searching hers, and she knew what was coming next. As he leaned in for their first kiss, she felt a rush of excitement and nerves, her stomach fluttering like a thousand butterflies. Their lips met softly, the taste of butterscotch lingering between them. It was a kiss filled with promise and potential, a declaration of the beginnings of something beautiful.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both smiling, their cheeks flushed from the warmth of the fire and their newfound feelings for each other.

Cedric might look like your charming boy next door but boy you'd never guess he'd be like this.

In a moment of intimate exploration, his eyes are locked onto yours, a silent question seeking permission, and when he receives your nod of consent, his smile is soft, a promise of the delight to come. He starts by placing tender kisses along the inside of your thighs, his breath warm and comforting against your skin. His fingers trace light patterns, a prelude to the symphony of sensation that is about to unfold.

As he reaches the apex of your thighs, his kisses become more deliberate, the anticipation building as he brushes his lips against the delicate folds of your sex. His tongue darts out, tasting the sweetness of your arousal, and you gasp at the contact, your body responding to his every move. His movements are slow and deliberate, a dance of passion that he has perfected just for you. Each drag of his toung is measured, designed to tease and tantalize, to build the crescendo of your desire.

Cedric's hands glide up your body, cupping your breasts, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples, adding another layer of sensation to the mix. He takes his time, savoring each moment, as if he's afraid that if he goes too fast, this perfect moment might shatter into a thousand pieces. His tongue dips and swirls around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm and moan with pleasure.

Your legs instinctively part wider, giving him better access, and he takes advantage, sliding a finger inside you, feeling the warm wetness that's been building in response to his touch. His eyes never leave yours, watching for every flicker of pleasure, every twitch of your body that tells him he's doing exactly what you need. His strokes are slow and deep, mimicking the rhythm of his mouth against your sensitive flesh.

The room is filled with the sweet sounds of your gasps and moans, punctuated by the soft wet noises of his ministrations. His mouth is insistent, never stopping, as he works to bring you closer and closer to the edge. His other hand travels down your body, his fingers sliding between yours, intertwining as he continues to explore you with his tongue.

As the intensity builds, Cedric's pace increases, his tongue moving faster, more insistent, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes you see stars. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body tightening, coiling like a spring ready to unleash its stored energy. You're so close, so very close, and he knows it.

With one final, firm suck on your clit, combined with a deep thrust of his fingers, you shatter, crying out his name as the waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses in ecstasy, each pulse sending you spiraling higher and higher. He holds you through it, his mouth and hands never leaving their task, until you're left trembling and sated in the aftermath.

As you come down from the peak, Cedric kisses his way back up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his gentle touch reassuring as he pulls you into a loving embrace. His eyes are filled with a warm glow, a reflection of the satisfaction and connection you both share.

"You can cum all you want, baby" as He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, as your body stretches to accommodate him. He begins to move, his rhythm slow and steady, letting you adjust to his size.

With every thrust, Cedric hits that spot deep within you that makes you see white, and you find yourself climbing again, your orgasm building, the not forming in your stomach, tightening your muscles, until it explodes out of you, leaving you panting and gasping for breath.

As he feels you approaching climax, he whispers sweetly, "Cum for me, my love." His words are a catalyst, sending waves of euphoria through your body as you shatter around him.

And through it all, his eyes are on yours, watching you, drinking in your pleasure, as if it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He whispers your name like a prayer, his voice hoarse with passion, as he reaches his own climax.

But Cedric isn't satisfied with just one, if was as if you were watching a switch flip on. He continues to rub your clit with the same tender precision, his pace increasing as he watches your reaction. You begin to feel overwhelmed, but the ecstasy is addictive. As your second orgasm builds, you attempt to pull his hand away, but his grip is firm. He doesn't stop, his fingers working you into a frenzy. His movements become more intense, his strokes deeper.

You're lost in a haze of pleasure and pain as he starts to bully your clit, forcing you to cum yet again. He chuckles, his breath hot against your neck, "Look at you, so greedy for it." Cedric's hand shifts to your throat, his grip surprisingly strong as he holds you down, smirking as your eyes widen in a mix of fear and arousal. "I said I'd be gentle the first time," he murmurs, his voice dark with desire, "You squeezing me so tight, darling." He groans as he watches himself enter and exit your cunt. "You like that?"

Your breath hitches, your body arching into his touch as you struggle to answer. "Y-yes," you manage to gasp out, your voice a bare whisper.

Cedric's smile widens, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel the delicious pressure. "Good girl," he praises, his thumb finding your clit once more. He circles it mercilessly, the sensation making your toes curl.

Your orgasm builds, the pressure rising in your core like a crescendo. You know he can feel it, the way your muscles are clamping down around his cock. He seems to revel in your desperation, his strokes growing faster, his breathing harsher.

As the climax hits, he releases your throat, allowing you to scream out in ecstasy. Your body shudders violently, your eyes rolling back in your head. The feeling of his cock moving in and out of you, coupled with the relentless assault on your clit, sends you spiraling over the edge.

He slows his pace, watching you come down from the high, his expression smug. "You're cumming again? You're so pathetic" he says with a chuckle. "But I do love it." He leans in closer, his teeth grazing your ear.

You feel his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want you to remember this moment," he whispers, "Remember who made you cum like this." He starts to fuck you harder, his movements more deliberate. "Remember who owns you."

Your body responds to his words, your pussy tightening around him. You can feel him getting closer to his own release, his strokes becoming more erratic. "I'm going to cum," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to swallow it all, aren't you?"

You nod, unable to form words as he pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. He pumps himself a few times before he shoots his load into your open mouth. You swallow, the salty taste of him filling your mouth. He watches you with hooded eyes, his own orgasm written all over his face.

When he's finished, he leans back, his chest heaving. "Good," he says, his voice still gruff. "Now, clean me up."

With trembling hands, you reach down and take his still-hard cock into your mouth, eager to taste him fully. You lick and suck, swirling your tongue around the head to make sure you get every drop. He groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides you.

When he's clean, he pulls away, a satisfied look on his face. "Much better," he says, patting your head like you're a good pet. "Now, let's see if you can handle a real challenge."

He stands up, pulling you with him. You wobble on your legs, still trembling from the intensity of your last orgasm. He turns you around, pushing you down onto the bed so that your ass is in the air. "I want to see if you can take it without screaming," he says, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

You brace yourself as he enters you from behind, filling you up to the brim. The angle is new and feels incredible, sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound as he starts to move. His strokes are deep and slow, pushing into you in a way that makes your eyes water.

It's all you can do to keep from crying out as he starts to fuck you harder. His hand reaches around, finding your clit again. You whimper, the sensation too much to bear. "I'm going to make you cum so hard," he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

The pressure builds again, the sensation of his cock stretching you combined with the relentless teasing of your clit is too intense. You feel your body tightening around him, your muscles clenching. He chuckles, his grip on your hip tightening. "Good girl," he murmurs, "Take it all."

You do as he says, your orgasm ripping through you like a tornado. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your screams as he continues to pound into you. The pleasure is almost too much, your body convulsing with each wave. "You're wayyyy too fucking loud" He hisses further pushing your face into the pillow, his hand over your mouth as he starts to cum. He fills you up, his warm seed spilling into your pussy as you continue to quiver.

When he's finished, he pulls out, his cock slipping from your mouth with a wet sound. You collapse onto the bed, utterly spent. He stands over you, his cock still hard, a smirk playing on his lips. “you’re a little slut that just wants dick inside you all the time, huh?" He says, stroking himself idly.

You can't even find the energy to respond, your body still reeling from the intense experience. He chuckles again before leaving the room, leaving you alone in the aftermath of your first taste of true submission. The room is quiet, save for the sound of your own breathing. You lay there, feeling used and you absolutely loved it, your body covered in sweat and cum, your heart racing.

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rambling-red-wizard · 6 months ago

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May I suggest participating in the sacred game of Pretend? Wear cat ears! Wear elf ears! Wear frog ears, whatever that means! Become a Priest of the Holy Lemon, may her reign be ever sour! Talk to the alien bird-dog that lives in your bottom drawer and eats compliments!- aww, isn't he cute? The world around us is entrenched in the war between A Harsh and Unchosen Reality and a Shiny Distracting Advertising Nightmare- but hey! Look down here! The piskies are still robbing the cookie jar. They never left. The water still remembers how to make rainbows, if only you would walk through them. When did cardboard stop being gold? Why doesn't a star-flecked scarf make you a wizard? Who told you that there are no unicorns on Mars? Please, don't leave us here. The storytellers, the mad mages and triumphant heroes, the things under your bed, the small and fearsome childhood gods- the Man in Red, the Pearly Keeper, Spring Court's Fool, the Grove-hidden- we are here! We only ever hoped you would still believe in us, after all that you've done, after all that's happened to you. But children so quickly fall into the Real World, and no-one remembers us there. Come on, then- Pretend is waiting. We'll wait forever if we must. But don't you think there are dragons in those hills?

#nostalgia #childhood #pretend #hope #writing #imaginary friend #spilled ink #magic #faeries

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none-of-your-biscuits · 2 years ago

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Being a wizard when you have a dog would absolutely suck. You would be like yes my bucket of lizards. For my spells and mixtures. And your dog would get fur and drool all over them and make them unusable. You'd be like I need to leave this vat of blue to finish cooking and ur dog would be like. What if I rush in suddenly and send you crashing directly in and now you're a frog and you have to hide from your dog until she gets bored and then make the fucking cure as a frog. Ur trying to just do your fucking wizard work and ur dog is. Mother I crave paper. And eats your whole 18th volume spell book. Fucking chews up your wizard hat

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jellymeduza · 6 months ago

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October, November and December 2024 updates

Happy New Year, folks! 😊 May it be less screwed that the previous one.

1st of October 2024: name stuffed animals - added two versions compatible with simler90’s Toy Stuffed Animal Fix. If you want use both mine and simler90’s mods, choose Meduza_NameStuffedAnimals_simler90StuffedAnimalFix and make it load after simler90’s mod (do not delete it). If you want all three mods (Gummi’s, simler90’s and my), choose MeduzaGummiTeddyEnablerAutonomyFixesTraitMod_Name_simler90StuffedAnimalFix. Delete Gummi’s mod, but keep simler90’s and make sure my mod loads after simler90’s.

5th of October 2024: blogging increases social need - added three more versions to make my mod compatible with @simnopke’s Diary Writing Fixes - logic tweaks. Make sure my mod loads after Nopke’s.

5th of October 2024: catnip sack, yarn ball as a cat toy - added new interaction on catnip sack - replace. It’s active for teens and older Sims on destroyed catnips. Sims will buy a new catnip and clean up the old one.

12th of October 2024: custom cellphone mod - now custom handheld games don’t sink in the ground if placed on the floor.

15th of October 2024: more drinks from bar - added compatibility plug-in for simler90’s Utility Mod: zz_Meduza_MoreTypesOfDrinksFromBars_simler90_UtilityMod. It should work with both Advanced and Regular versions of Utility Mod. To make my mod compatible with simler90’s mod, keep aforementioned mods in your downloads folder and put my plug-in. Make sure my plug-in loads after my mod and after simler90’s mod.

27th of October 2024: vampires can’t eat food except for blood drinks - added TS4 to TS2 edible plasma foods by @simstralia

27th of October 2024: zombie mod, part 3 of bending mod, poison mod, TSM spy crafting station, turn into Joker, deadly joy buzzer, make fall in love & deadly kiss - interactions can’t be performed on special NPCs anymore

4th of November 2024: frog curse - if the curse expires when a frogified member of the active household is off-lot, that Sim will return home already de-frogified.

20th of November 2024: Doctor Strange’s lamps - added "shaders" versions of lamps. You have to choose one version per lamp type. "Shaders" version requires @crispsandkerosene‘s Extended StandardMaterial Shader. I also updated "no shaders" version of hanging lamp and of wall lamp - candles in hanging lamp would never glow (even when the lamp was turned on), while candles in wall lamp were always glowing. This is fixed now. I also fixed shadows in every version of wall and standing lamps.

4th of December 2024: TS4 mad scientist for kids and teens, TSM Spy Leather Corset, TSM wizard gold belt buckle for teens, TSM Evil Wizard - added "shaders" version of outfits, making some parts of outfits glowy or reflective. "Shaders" versions require @crispsandkerosene‘s Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader. I also updated the UV map on TSM Spy Leather Corset - it affects both "no shaders" and "shaders" recolors (the psd file is updated as well).

25th of December 2024: TSM Evil Queen Dress, TSM Forest Wizard, TSM Queen Silk Belt, TSM King Fur Coat - added "shaders" version of outfits, making some parts of outfits reflective. "Shaders" versions require @crispsandkerosene‘s Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader.

27th of December 2024: TSM Evil Witch, TSM Com Corset Layered Dress - added "shaders" version of outfits, making some parts of outfits reflective. "Shaders" versions require @crispsandkerosene‘s Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader.

31st of December 2024: various medieval vampire dresses - added "shaders" version of TSM outfits, making some parts of outfits reflective. "Shaders" versions require @crispsandkerosene‘s Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader. Currently only OneDrive upload is updated (SFS, please start working 🙏) ETA 3rd of January 2025: updated also at SFS.

#updated

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everwhovian · 25 days ago

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no games au where Jun-ho takes In-ho to see wicked 🙏

-🎀

🎀, I have to confess that I didn't watch the movie yet BUT I did watch the musical in London and I just LOVE Wizard of Oz and Wicked!!

I did sit down and watched the movie by now, though, but Jun-ho still dragged In-ho to see the musical!

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

In-ho knew something was off the moment Jun-ho showed up at his office with that particular look on his face.

It was the same look he’d had as a child when hiding a frog in his backpack or slipping an extra chocolate bar into the cart when In-ho wasn’t looking. Mischief poorly disguised as sincerity.

He held up two green and gold tickets like they were sacred artifacts.

“Don’t say no yet,” he said.

In-ho stared. “What is it?”

“Just trust me. You need this.”

He didn’t trust him. But somehow, two hours later, he was standing outside a theater bathed in emerald light, staring up at a marquee that read Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz.

“You said dinner,” In-ho said flatly.

Jun-ho didn’t even flinch. “We’ll eat after! I made a reservation. This is more important.”

“You’re thirty-three.”

Jun-ho blinked up at him with wide, infuriatingly sincere eyes. “And?”

In-ho exhaled through his nose, folding his arms over his chest like armor. He was already here. Already dressed in the nice coat Jun-ho had picked out for him last Christmas. Already holding a ticket he hadn’t asked for.

“You’re serious…”

Jun-ho just smiled. “You’re still pretending to hate musicals. It’s adorable.”

In-ho considered walking away. But Jun-ho was already bounding up the steps like a Golden Retriever in human form, waving the tickets over his head and calling back, “Hurry up, hyung!”

Their seats were good. Too good. Jun-ho clearly hadn’t skimped, which made In-ho quietly uneasy. When Jun-ho went all in, it usually meant chaos was around the corner.

Jun-ho had already peeled off his coat and was thumbing through the program, humming the overture under his breath. He looked completely at ease. Like a kid in a candy store.

Or, more accurately, like a kid dragging his grumpy older brother to a candy store and pretending not to notice the glares. Even at thirty-three years old...

“Okay, so Elphaba is the green one, and Glinda’s the bubbly blonde –”

“I know how to watch a play.”

“Right, right,” Jun-ho whispered. “Just making sure you’re not lost like last time.”

“That was Cats. There was no plot.”

“There so was a plot.”

“There was a man in a unitard singing about garbage.”

Jun-ho laughed so hard he startled the woman in front of them. In-ho sank lower in his seat.

Then the lights dimmed, and all further commentary was replaced by a wall of sound.

The overture swelled. And the curtain lifted on a world of glitter and color and sound that immediately assaulted his senses.

In-ho braced himself, arms crossed.

He lasted all of ten minutes before the green girl walked onstage, and he forgot to be annoyed.

Elphaba was – unexpected.

Not just the makeup or the voice or the drama of it all. She was sharp. Lonely. Angry in a way that made sense to him.

She didn’t smile to be liked. Didn’t soften her edges to fit in. She bristled and stood alone and kept singing anyway.

In-ho hadn’t meant to care. But by the time she was singing about defying gravity – rising up, pushing back, daring to be something different – his throat felt uncomfortably tight.

He shifted slightly in his seat, cleared his throat, and tried to pretend Jun-ho wasn’t watching him from the corner of his eye.

“You okay over there?” Jun-ho whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“You look moved.”

“I’m not.”

“Your ears are red.”

“It’s warm in here.”

Jun-ho grinned and said nothing more, but his elbow pressed lightly against In-ho’s as the act closed with thunder and applause.

They didn’t talk much during intermission. Jun-ho offered him a bottle of water and gummy bears like it was a peace offering.

“She’s kind of amazing, right?” he said, unwrapping a snack. “Misunderstood but never backs down.”

In-ho didn’t answer right away.

“I suppose,” he said finally, sipping his water.

Jun-ho nudged him. “See? You’re into it.”

“I’m tolerating it.”

“You were emotional.”

“Jun-ho.”

“You yawned through your eyes.”

In-ho let out a long, slow sigh that made Jun-ho laugh again, soft and unbothered.

Then the lights flickered, and they returned to their seats.

Act Two hit different.

Quieter. Sadder. People changing, falling apart, missing chances. No real villains. Just people making choices and living with them.

He didn’t expect the final duet to get to him the way it did.

The two women stood onstage – changed, worn down, but still standing – and sang to each other with something like grief and gratitude twisted together.

‘Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.’

It wasn’t dramatic, not like the broom-flying or the dragon. But it landed deeper. It lingered.

He thought of old friends he’d drifted from. Of years he’d lost to pride. Of Jun-ho, small and stubborn and impossibly loyal, standing beside him through every bad choice and bitter silence. Always still there.

He didn’t cry.

But he did blink more than usual.

Jun-ho didn’t say anything until they were outside, walking down the steps into the cool night air. The crowd buzzed around them, full of chatter and post-show glow.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jun-ho said.

“Digesting.”

Jun-ho smiled without looking at him. “It was good, huh?”

In-ho hesitated..“…It was fine.”

“Uh-huh. And by ‘fine,’ you mean life-altering.”

“It was about flying witches.”

“It was about forgiveness.”

He hated that he was right.

In-ho didn’t answer, and Jun-ho didn’t push. They walked together through the lit streets, coats drawn tight, the wind nudging at their heels.

“Come on, our reservation awaits” Jun-ho said eventually. “Ten minutes away. Small place. You’ll like it.”

“You said that about the time we went for ‘authentic’ ramen and they served it cold.”

“That was hiyashi chūka! It’s supposed to be cold.”

“You’re supposed to be an adult.”

“And yet I still dragged you to a musical.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t walk out.”

“You almost did. Right before ‘Defying Gravity.’ Imagine missing that.”

In-ho glanced at him sideways.

“You were singing under your breath.”

“I was not –”

“‘Unlimited – my future is…’” Jun-ho crooned in an exaggerated falsetto.

In-ho shook his head, but his lips twitched.

Jun-ho linked their arms as they walked, completely unbothered by the world or its judgments.

And somehow, after all these years, In-ho found himself keeping pace.

Not because he had to.

But because Jun-ho never stopped walking beside him.

#hwang brothers requests #🎀 anon #hwang brothers #hwang in ho #hwang junho #hwang jun ho #hwang inho #hwang bros #squid game #inho and junho #in ho and jun ho #squid game fanfic

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goldenlionprince · 1 month ago

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Chocolate Frog Cards Are for Interesting People

for the @jilypad bingo prompt "Chocolate frog" [AO3] tagging @neverenoughmarauders @squintclover @nymphaea-auri because you liked the snippets I posted from this, but no pressure to read it! 😊)

“UUUUUURGGGG!!! NOT AGAIN!!!”

James frowns at the voice of his son coming in through the open kitchen window from the garden below. He pauses in cutting up apples into tiny little slices, the only way their eight-year-old will eat them.

There is a little thud, like someone flopping over in the grass, followed by the laughs of Ron and Neville.

Nothing too bad, then.

“I just want someone COOL for once,” Harry complains loudly.

“I don't know. Having a broom maker as a dad sounds pretty cool to me.”

“Thank you, Neville,” James mutters under this breath and resumes cutting up the fruit treats for the boys in the garden.

“Look! I've got your mum!” Ron says excitedly. Harry groans again. James just grins and puts the apple slices into three little bowls.

“And I'm completing the set!” Neville giggles. “I've got Sirius!”

“Oh, come on!” Harry shouts. There is another soft thump accompanied by laughter from Harry's friends. James can't help but laugh too at the dramatic antics of his son.

“What have they even ever done to be on Chocolate Frog cards? It's for interesting people!”

“Wow, thanks, kiddo,” James mumbles with a grin and adds some strawberries to the little fruit piles. “We only took out the most dangerous dark wizard in existence. No big deal, you're absolutely right.”

Ron seems to share James' sentiment. Good kid. “They saved the wizarding world!” he protests and James just knows Harry is rolling his eyes at that.

“When I grow up I want to be as cool as Sirius,” Neville whispers reverently.

Harry just snorts at that. “He's not cool.”

James bursts out laughing.

“What's so funny?” Lily asks as she walks into the kitchen, followed by Sirius.

“Just our son having a hard time with the Chocolate Frog cards again.” James grins and leans in for a kiss from Lily. “And Sirius is apparently not cool.”

“Was he ever?” Lily asks with a grin.

“I'll just pretend I haven't heard that,” Sirius says and steals one of the strawberries from the cutting board. “Otherwise I'd have to revoke your motorbike privileges, Lily.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

James chuckles and leans over to steal a kiss from Sirius' lips as well. “Had a good time at the Wizengamot?”

“Dreadful, as always,” Sirius says and chases James' lips for another kiss, the greedy bastard. “Be glad you don't have to deal with all those old fuckers.”

“Believe me, I am. Lily is doing a far better job with the Potter seat than I could.”

“Partly because you and Sirius together would just be tempted to throw things at the worst Wizengamot members when they aren't looking,” Lily says and picks up a strawberry herself.

“You're one to talk,” Sirius says, raising an eyebrow at her. “Don't think I haven't seen the sticking charm you used on Fudge.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Lily looks at Sirius, all innocent, and bites into her strawberry.

“Dad!” Harry's voice interrupts them from the kitchen window. The boy is barely tall enough yet to peer through it from where he stands in the flower bed on his tiptoes, his fingers gripping the frame to keep balance. “Can Ron, Neville and I get the brooms out?”

“In a bit,” James answers and picks up his wand. With a flick of it the little fruit bowls hover over the counter and then slowly fly their way out of the window one by one, brushing over Harry's curls as they go. “Eat something other than chocolate first. Then I'll come out and watch you with your brooms.”

“Fine,” Harry groans and grabs for the last of the fruit bowls. “But you come as soon as we're done eating!”

“Alright, alright, I will,” James laughs and sets his wand back down on the counter. “Now eat your fruits. And say hi to your mother and Padfoot.”

“Hi mother and Padfoot,” Harry says with a wave and dashes off after the other two fruit bowls back to his friends.

Sirius barks a laugh. “What a cheeky little menace.”

Lily grins and takes another bite of her strawberry. “I have absolutely no idea where he got that from.”

#jilypad #jilypadbingo #jilypadbingo2025 #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #my writing

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yerimbrit · 9 months ago

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[flufftober day 17, wc: 975] - carnival : enchanted (or not)

AS A WITCH, the witchery related attractions at carnivals made by non-witches are a sort of entertainment to you. some witches and wizards take offense to it, since there are several misconceptions that come along with the booths.

for one: witches aren’t green. you don’t know where that piece of information came from, but that one, at least, makes you queasy. you don’t know what you would do if you suddenly turned green; it would also probably scare everyone off. with this in mind, you fail to hold in your giggles when you stop by the witches and witchcraft booth at the carnival minji not-so-subtly invited you to.

(“so, there’s this carnival coming up…”

“yeah? the one on the 17th? what about it?”

“um. just saying.”

“we can go if you want to, you know.”

“really?”

“really.”)

minji’s staring at the cauldron that is currently overflowing with fog from a fog machine, enthralled by the display. there’s someone in an exaggerated witch costume, green skin and big hat and all, stirring the pot with some generic witch laugh sound effect playing from a jbl speaker.

she turns to you with sparkles in her eyes, not saying anything.

“what?” you smile, “say, do you think i’d look cute with green skin?”

the girl thinks for a second before shrugging. “i think you look cute either way.”

“you’re an angel. imagine if hanni had green skin.”

your girlfriend makes a face, and you have to stifle your giggle because she looks so unamused. “she’d look more like a generic witch than you do. thanks for ruining my perception of her, i won’t be able to unsee it.”

“you two, young couple flirting over there!” the witch calls, beckoning you over with her hand. she sounds suspiciously like hyein. you and minji share a look, scoffing playfully at the remark she added, before strolling over to the cauldron.

the witch (or hyein, you confirm it’s her after she accidentally adds an ‘-unnie’ at the end of addressing you again) waves a hand over the cauldron, and the sound effect of the laughter plays again, making you snort and nudge minji. “this was you a few months ago, except you failed.”

“can you stop bringing that up?” she whines, having flashbacks of the failed love potion. despite getting what she wanted in the end anyway, you still tease her for it to this day. “i didn’t need the potion in the end, anyway.”

“close your eyes, lovebirds,” witch™ whispers, and the both of you oblige. there’s a beat of shuffling and the sound of something being moved, and then you’re allowed to open your eyes again. “some candy apples for you.”

well, if the general public’s opinion of witches was that they give random couples they see, free candy apples, then you’re all the more happy to be one of those couples, especially at the way minji has this goofy smile on her face after she takes the first bite. thanks, hyein.

after leaving the booth, you walk around the carnival a while longer. there’s several game booths (which minji tried dozens of times to win at ring toss to win you a black cat plush wearing a witch hat, which you hug to your chest with your left hand, the right one holding minji’s hand) and some rides, although you’re skipping those tonight after eating some suspicious pie at another booth. keep this hush-hush, but you did hex the person who gave it to you with a spell that causes them to cough out frogs for the rest of the night.

upon approaching a strength test game (you know, with the hammer and the meter) you’re met with danielle, who fails to scare the both of you, and haerin, who gives a small nod. the werewolf is wearing fake wolf ears (which is weird because she could’ve just had her real ones out) and the vampire is wearing a black and red vampire-esque coat. very funny. you should’ve showed up with your witch hat and broom, too.

danielle insists on winning you and minji a prize from the game, and then marches over to the attendant to pay for a single play. the guy looks terrified by her booming energy.

“watch,” you point at the werewolf, “she’s gonna break it.”

danielle turns around, scowling in jest, before pointing at the three of you and winking. and, well, as expected, she breaks the stick of the hammer in half just as it makes contact with the large puck. minji has to hold onto you, shoulders shaking with laughter while haerin snickers but averts her eyes, a silent ‘i don’t know her’ written all over her face and in her posture.

you grin, “i told you.”

the attendant is so afraid of the werewolf’s (he probably doesn’t know about that fact) strength that you guys get a prize anyway, although you’re not quite sure whether it’s because of her strength, or because he was scared of her. either way, a win in your book. and a brown bear with glasses makes its way into minji’s arms.

danielle and haerin leave, something about seeing some security guard mutter something into their walkie-talkie while staring directly at them, and you and minji decide to leave as well.

“i feel like this is going to happen every time we go someplace like this,” you beam, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth.

minji chuckles in amusement, “but at least we had fun, right? i really liked the fairy place.”

your head whips to her, gasping, “you prefer fairies over witches? witches are totally cooler than fairies, i’ll have you know! no offense, wonyoung,” you think of your best friend who’s also at the carnival, “she has super-hearing.”

she panics, shaking her head vehemently, “when did i ever say that!?”

you’re definitely coming back next year.

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : nod emoji

#newjeans x reader #girl group imagines #girl group x reader #kim minji #kim minji x reader #kim minji newjeans #minji x reader #newjeans imagines #flufftober #flufftober2024 #an's flufftober!

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cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends · 2 years ago

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chocolate frog terrarium || theodore nott x reader

a/n: WARNING: ur a HUFFLEPUFF GIRL and now you have made-up siblings lol the chocolate frog thing was something i thought of a while ago and i think it’s funny. and i played hogwarts legacy so i have to reference it <3

to say that theodore was nervous about the date was an understatement. he was overwrought and maybe even querulous (thank you thesaurus.com). he didn't know what to wear and he was worried that his hair looked stupid. eventually he decided he looked as good as he was going to and left to meet (y/n) in the bell tower courtyard.

when he made it outside he saw her waiting by the fountain. she was conjuring three little yellow canaries, a spell they had recently learned in mcgonagall's class. when she saw him walking towards her she waved her wand and all of the birds disappeared.

"theo, you made it!" she walked towards him, grinning widely.

"you didn't think i'd show?" he pretends to be offended. "i see you've mastered the avis charm?" he watches as a few yellow feathers fall to the ground at her feet.

"truly i was worried you and malfoy were having me on..." she trailed off before quickly pivoting to a brighter topic. "are you ready to go?"

"yeah let's get going," he offers his arm and she takes it, looping hers through his.

they make small talk as they walk across the rickety bridge and all the way to hogsmeade, talking about everything from potions class to what they think harry potter will manage to do before this year is up. they also make a brief pitstop at the puffskein den on the way to the village ("they're so cute, let's just look at them for a second!").

"where do you want to go first?" theo asked as the both of them entered the wizard village.

"honeyduke's," (y/n) answered immediately.

"that was quick," theo teased her, but still led them to the candy store.

as they walk around together theo watches as she examines almost everything in the store.

"what's your favorite thing in here?" she asks him while still perusing the shelves.

he thinks for a minute before answering, "probably...every-flavor beans."

"are you a sociopath or something?" she asked with mock-seriousness. "i can't eat those. ever since i got a dragon dung flavored bean." she shivered at the memory.

he laughed loudly, "i've never got one like that...what's your favorite?"

she picks up a chocolate frog and holds it up to theo, suddenly laughing lightly at something.

"you know i come from a muggle family, right?" she asked, tilting her head at him. he nodded, so she continued. "i bought one of these for my brother one time, and when it jumped out he thought it was a real frog, so he set up a little habitat for it and kept it as a pet."

"how long did it stick around?" theo asked, genuinely curious as he had never left a chocolate frog open and uneaten for longer than five minutes.

"a day, then it melted under the heat lamp," she chuckled, putting the chocolate frog back. "i wish you could have seen his face when he found his brand new pet frog melted in his tank."

"i've always wondered how muggles would react to all of these different candies," theo said, imagining the scene of a boy finding his new pet as a melted chocolate blob.

"don't get me started on my sister," she rolled her eyes before continuing, "she tries to talk to the cards. she has a crush on her gilderoy lockhart card."

"so you've exposed your muggle family to the wizarding world as well?" he asked.

"yes," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "i think it would be rather selfish to keep all of this to myself."

"did your parents freak out when they found out?"

"oh yes, my mom nearly lost it when i made a worm grow to, like, double its size."

"i would too, that sounds vile," he scrunched his nose up at the thought of a fat fucking earthworm.

(y/n) grabs two chocolate frogs and a box of fizzing whizbees before going to the counter to pay. before she could even get her coin purse open, theo had already given the cashier enough money to cover it.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she frowned.

“i wanted to impress you,” he shrugged.

she rolled her eyes before offering him one of the frogs. they both opened them, caught them, and began eating them.

“what card did you get?” she asked, peering over his shoulder to see.

“fig,” he said unenthusiastically. “i have like eight of him already. who did you get?”

“ooh! i got mcgonagall! i don’t have her yet!” she said excitedly, pocketing the card. “i don’t have fig though….”

she side-eyed him in hopes that he would hand over the card. which he did. he didn’t need a ninth eleazar fig.

they started their walk back to the castle shortly after this. shyly brushing hands until theo made the move to fully hold her hand. he walked her down to the hufflepuff common room where he found himself sad to part ways.

“i had a really nice time today theo…” (y/n) said shyly, looking down at her feet. “we should do this again sometime.”

“yeah definitely! i had a great time too,” he smiled down at her softly.

he was wracking his brain, trying to think of something NORMAL to say, when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“goodnight theo,” she smiled softly and went into her common room.

he smiled as he turned around to walk to the dungeons. when he made it to his dorm, malfoy and mattheo (yep he’s here IM SORRY) were waiting for him.

“how’d it go mate?” mattheo asked, smirking at theo.

“it was really great,” theo answered earnestly, too giddy to say something cool and nonchalant.

“that’s just adorable,” malfoy cooed at him.

“shut up…” theo rubbed the back of neck, before plotting with the boys on how to ask (y/n) out again.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #harry potter x reader #theo nott #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagines #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x y/n

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perfectlyoongi · 11 months ago

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LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who sends selfies with a you-stick-figure drawn by his side. Jin was very creative with his photographs, so much so that in practically all of his photographs, Jin made a point of having you close to him. sitting next to him eating from his bowl, lying on his bed stealing his pillow, the ideas were immense; in every selfie of Jin, there was a display of desire. hiding all his neediness behind humor, Jin did everything to make you laugh and realize that that distance meant nothing. even though you were on the other side of the screen, you were always close to Jin. “another practice done. today you came to watch the rehearsal and you really liked it. too bad you fell asleep in between. frankly, you don’t know how to sleep at night and then this happens.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who sends you a small jar with 366 of his kisses. don’t ask how long Jin took to prepare this gift because the answer was too shameful to share; but that wasn’t the most important thing. the most important thing is that Jin took the time to paint his lips and kiss several strips of paper to put in a jar and give to you as a gift. so, when you needed Jin’s love and he couldn’t give it to you, you had a kiss for every day of the year that made you remember why you loved Jin. “every day of the year i’m kissing you. i devote all my love to you in the form of little kisses to show you that there isn’t a day that goes by that you don’t leave my head.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who creates a story of your own every time he rides a plane. Jin was a man who needed some activity to distract himself, and when he was on a plane, somewhat limited in his activities, Jin would just grab a notebook and a pen and start writing. once upon a time, a wizard from the mountains found a little frog who was prince Jin of the entire kingdom. once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a shepherd named Jin who was afraid of the dark and that was why his neighbor was always at his house on stormy nights. once upon a time, here in this world, there was a boy named Jin who loved very, very, very much a little gift from heaven with your name on it. “i just arrived at the hotel and i have to tell you the story i wrote today. might be my favorite so far. okay, good. so it’s like this. once upon a time, in a lost kingdom, there was a cart that had no wheels…”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who offers you a pillow of himself. Jin specialized in comedy. Jin was adept at hiding his pain with comedy. Jin was always ready to make you laugh, as your laughs were able to get past the comedy defenses and warm Jin’s heart. so, when a reasonably large package appeared in the mail, you were surprised at first and only after opening it did you understand everything. Jin had offered you a pillow. but it wasn’t just any pillow. Jin had offered you a pillow of himself, almost as big as him. just a few inches smaller, that pillow with Jin’s smiling face made you laugh again and again and protected you every night you were alone. in his comedy, Jin managed to give you some comfort. “i know i’m amazing and quite handsome, so i had to share myself with you. confess, you were hoping to have a pillow with my beautiful face on it.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who records every game you play together. having any kind of relationship with Jin was synonymous with chaos, especially when games were involved. during your calls, you and Jin would choose a game to pass the time that always ended with screams and laughter on both sides. recorded on his computer were all the failures and victories, and Jin spent hours replaying each of your games, getting lost in your laughs and disasters, always wishing you were there next to him replaying all the moments of happiness with him. “when i most need to have you by my side is when i review our games. i confess that part of me withers when i know that we are in two different homes, but in your laughter and words i find my refuge from this need.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who guarantees that he lives in hell for being so far away from you. why couldn’t Jin be by your side? why weren’t you born on the street in front of him? none of you were bad people. why did you have to suffer like this? Jin just wanted to be with you, to be able to share some of the love that burned him inside. Jin wanted to take care of you like you were a garden; he wanted to help you flourish, discover yourself, be happy. why did you have to be so far away from each other? what cruelty had Jin done in another life to suffer so much? he just wanted you. please. “every day that passes is a torment. what would i give to be there with you. what i would give to be able to give a little of this love that suffocates me so much. my soul is begging to come home.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who showed up at your house when you were heading to the airport to fly to see Jin. you were lucky. you were very lucky. if you hadn’t forgotten your passport at home, you and Jin would never have met. you had thought about surprising Jin on his birthday. Jin had thought about surprising you on his birthday. by a twist of fate, you and Jin had the same idea, just in different locations; and it was with all the luck in the universe, with all the stardust that existed, that Jin managed to get you home. you were ready to leave and it was by cosmic connections that Jin still caught you at home “i can’t believe this. i can’t believe. oh my god. the gods must love us. oh my god. i love you. oh my god. oh my god.”

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deathsoldfriend · 7 days ago

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Day 24 - Fountain | Words 2,234

@tomarrymortmicrofics

-There is a more to this here. It's a chapter from a WIP I've not yet posted.

He stood and left the veranda before Slytherin had chance to join him. Though he paused at the bottom of the steps to allow the man to catch up, because storming off without his date would be considered rude.

They walked side by side in silence. Harry was thankful Slytherin didn’t bother offering his arm as he barely tolerated talking to the man, let alone touching him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Slytherin. He didn’t even know the man and from the outside he looked like the perfect example of good breeding. No one ever had a bad word to say about him, and no one could deny his work had revolutionised the wizarding world, but to Harry, he was too perfect.

There was no way someone like Slytherin actually existed, there had to be something wrong with him, like a penchant for eating babies or maybe he regularly tortured others for fun. Not that Harry could really denounce the latter, he knew how good it felt to cast curses, and while he hadn’t progressed to actually torturing humans, he had explored against animals. Transfigured animals anyway, which arguably weren’t truly alive.

Anyway, even as Slytherin surrounded himself with the likes of Malfoy and Snape, dark families with a rich history of muggle baiting and questionable pastimes, the neutral and light families still believed him to be a paragon of virtue. Slytherin collected people's reverence and loyalty like a child collecting Chocolate Frog cards, somehow remaining above everyone without breeding resentment.

There had to be something wrong with him and Harry had no desire to become close enough to find out what, which is exactly what a marriage to him would do.

“I rather get the feeling you don’t like me.” Slytherin remarked when they were out of hearing range of those still on the veranda, still in sight range of course, Merlin forbid they converse without chaperones.

Harry tensed but didn’t turn, instead focusing on the early spring flowers beginning to bloom. He had half a mind to spit his half-formed accusations at the man but managed to refrain.

“I have no wish to get married,” he stated instead. “At least not until I’ve lived a little first.”

Slytherin stopped walking, forcing Harry to do the same and turned to face him fully. “You make it sound like marriage is a death sentence.”

Harry’s silence was enough to express his opinion on the matter, but he felt the need elaborate.

“Is it not? Unmarried I’d have the freedom to do what I want without the need of thinking of another. Married, to you especially, I’d no doubt be tied to the house. Reduced to nothing more than a bed warmer and something sparkly to show off at balls.”

“Especially me?” Slytherin repeated quietly. “Whatever gave you the impression I wouldn’t treat my partner with the respect and honour they deserve?”

Harry ground his teeth together. He hadn’t meant to say that as it told Slytherin more of his true opinion than he liked. Instead of answering he continued walking and felt, more than heard, Slytherin following.

“Tell me then, what would you do if not married? While respectable, your grades do not give you many options. With my name however, you could open doors otherwise closed to you.”

“Professional Quidditch does not require decent grades or famous names.”

“Quidditch?” Slytherin asked, sounding both scandalised and disgusted. Harry’s lip twitched in amusement.

He didn’t want to play Quidditch professionally, he’d only said it because he guessed the man disliked the sport. He’d often showed disinterest when questioned on his favourite team and only went to the big matches. Such as the Quidditch World Cup that had taken place before Harry’s fourth year, and that probably had more to do with politics than any love for the game.

Harry had witnessed it himself when they’d gotten seats in the top box for the match between Ireland and Bulgaria. Slytherin had spent the time before that match cosying up to the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, completely making a fool of their own Minister by conversing solely in Bulgarian and had hovered at the man’s side once the match was over. They’d left together, Lord Malfoy and Draco trailing behind and Minister Fudge hadn’t even noticed.

During the match itself, Slytherin had done a good job of looking interested, but Harry had seen his mask slip a couple of times when he thought no one was watching. A foolish mistake really, Harry had learned that even when it seemed no one was around, someone was always watching, especially as the man was such a well-known figure.

“Nothing wrong with Quidditch,” he defended.

“It would be an enormous waste of your talents,” Slytherin countered, nose still crinkled with disgust.

“Did we not just have a conversation about Quidditch being my only talent?”

Slytherin stopped again, this time before a fountain and a step in front of Harry so he was forced to stop too. Dark eyes regarded him for a few moments, looking like he was debating something, and his eyes hardened as he reached a decision.

“Did you know, Harry,” his voice was deeper and somehow possessed a dangerous quality that sent a shiver up his spine. Harry suddenly felt like prey, pinned in place and awaiting the predator to pounce.

It wasn’t a feeling he liked, but he also couldn’t deny the heat blooming in his stomach as his heart rate increased. He always did find danger exciting.

“I have the rather remarkable power of knowing when someone lies to me?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he took half a step back before catching himself. He locked his knees and stood his ground, refusing to show fear. If that was true… he frantically ran his mind back over their conversations, trying to see if he had outright lied to the man, and what Slytherin would be able to figure out from those lies.

Slytherin would know he was more capable than he’d showed. Well, that wasn’t too bad, he didn’t know how capable, though he would be curious as to why Harry felt the need to hide it. Everything else he’d said either hadn’t been a lie or has simply been a misdirection.

“Answer me this. How exactly did you gain entry into my secret library?”

Harry blinked at the unexpected question. He thought he’d gotten away with that, but somehow the man had found out. He was definitely glad he hadn’t stolen the book, that would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer. Only those who studied the dark arts even knew about those books. Even his dad as Head Auror, didn’t know about them.

He debated testing the man’s claim by lying, claiming he had no knowledge of such a room, but he’d hesitated for too long. Someone who didn’t know would have denied it sooner, even if the man didn’t have some strange power, he would know Harry was lying.

Still, gaining entry hadn’t been hard, there hadn’t even been any wards on the hidden room, only a statue that seemed all too eager to let him past. Not much of a secret when it told everyone it was there.

“You see, I warded that room myself. No one can enter without me allowing access.”

So, there had been wards. Harry had no idea how he passed them; he hadn’t even felt them. He considered lying. Obviously the man expected him to have some miraculous skill to slice through wards, it would be amusing to let him think that, taunt him that Slytherin obviously wasn’t as skilled as he thought.

Harry could even tell him about the knife Sirius had gotten him, one that could slice through wards as easily as butter. That way he could still hide his own skills but if the man could tell when he was being lied to… well, there was no point in giving away the secret of his knife when there was nothing to gain.

The truth was actually more appealing, who had wards that just let anyone through? Despite what the man said about them.

“They can’t be very good wards then. I didn’t even know about the room until that statue told me, then I simply asked for access. Doesn’t seem particularly secure to me.”

“You asked,” Slytherin repeated slowly, brow furrowing before his eyes widened slightly in shock. “How- that’s not possible.”

“Of course it’s possible. I do have the ability to talk after all.”

Slytherin stepped forward, no longer looking dangerous but excited, eyes still wide with shock and disbelief.

“Tell me,” he said urgently and his voice had taken on an odd hissing quality. “Have you ever met a snake?”

Harry rocked back with the sudden change of subject and stared confusedly.

“Yeah, once at the pet store.” Slytherin’s eyes brightened triumphantly, though Harry didn’t understand why.

“And did they speak to you?”

“What? No. Of course not. I’m not a—” Harry paused, suddenly breathless. He snapped his mouth shut and watched Slytherin wearily.

Parseltongue. The man was talking about the snake language. A language that only Slytherin’s line could speak. The Potter’s weren’t Slytherins, there was no way Harry should be a parselmouth. And yet…

“You’ve just been speaking parseltongue, haven’t you?”

“I have.” Harry heard it again, that weird hissing mixed in with English.

“That’s impossible.”

“And yet you understand me. How?” Harry was sure Slytherin’s eyes flashed red, but the colour was gone in a second so he couldn’t be sure. “It’s a gift you’d have from birth, but you say the ones at the store didn’t speak to you. What did you do? How did you manage to gain the ability?”

Harry expected the man to be angry. It was a family gift after all, and Harry shouldn’t have it, but he looked excited, and his eyes glinted with intellectual curiosity.

“I didn’t do anything.” But even as he said it the answer came to him.

The ritual. That had to be it. There were no Slytherins in the Potter line, but they did share a common ancestor. Information on the Peverells was scarce, most of what was known could be found in a fairy tale. Who's to say the ability didn’t pass from them to the Slytherin line. It wasn’t uncommon for gifts to stay in one line.

Maybe all three brothers had the gift, but only Cadmus’ line had passed it on. Harry didn’t know, but it was the only explanation he could come up with and he would definitely be researching it.

“I take it the snake statue responds to parseltongue?” he asked, hoping to divert the man’s attention from Harry’s realisation. From the knowing and interested glint in Slytherin’s eye he hadn’t succeeded, but thankfully the man didn’t question him further.

“Yes. Had you tried to gain entry without that, you’d have been restrained and held until I freed you.”

Silence fell then, Harry unsure where to take the conversation, and Slytherin seeming content to stare at him like Harry was a puzzle he wanted to pick apart.

Harry wondered about the magic behind the protection of the library. Was it simply like the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office? Something charmed to respond to a certain phrase or was it there something more to it.

He had a feeling it was the latter, Slytherin revelled in pushing the boundaries of magic and creating something that could not only guard and defend, but also only responded to a specific language wouldn’t have been created with a simple charm.

“What a remarkable find you are, Heir Potter and to think, I almost dismissed you. If I hadn’t already been determined to marry you, this has only convinced me more. Another parselmouth… you will be mine,” his eyes burned with a possessive need. Harry swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze, unable to bare the intensity.

“So, I don’t get any say in the matter?” Harry ground out bitterly.

“I wasn’t aware you had much choice in the first place.” Slytherin turned his head slightly to glance at the veranda. “If not me, your parents would still arrange a match.”

“If not you, I could have held them off until I turned twenty-one.”

“Mmm, a good plan, providing you could accomplish it. Unfortunately for you, your little display when we met at the ball and the pranks you left behind have done little to persuade me that you are not worthy of me.”

Harry’s head jerked up.

“Did you enjoy my pranks?” He asked, with a smug mischievous smirk.

“Immensely.” That squashed any humour Harry felt. Slytherin wasn’t supposed to enjoy them. “I doubt I’ve even found them all. Ingenious pieces of magic really, and intricately difficult at removing them. Yet earlier, you claimed your friends were the ones to set up the pranks.”

Harry opened his mouth to defend his lie, but Slytherin cut him off.

“You’ll soon learn that lying to me isn’t in your best interest,” he threatened dangerously before a polite expression of interest settled on his face. “Shall we rejoin the table; all this talking has made me thirsty,” he suggested and gave Harry no time to refuse as he walked away with long strides.

This time, Harry was the one left to catch up and he did so quickly, not wanting to look like he was following the man.

Death's Bitesize Bits and Bobs

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harry potter #tom riddle #lord voldemort #arranged marriage

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