#good luck quill! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashmagpie · 7 months

Text

Blood & Snow

Pt. IV

Directory: {Pt. I} {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Day four for @hermithorrorweek! This is the longest chapter in this fic and completely got away from me lmao. I hope you all enjoy it. TWs for this chapter include: violence, gore, possession, non-consensual body modification*, temporary character death?

IV. TAKEN OVER

“So what you’re saying,” Cub says, “is that the dungeon… ate Tango?”

The seven of them are sitting in a makeshift circle of chairs in the waiting room. Well—most of them. Scar’s in his wheelchair, rolling back and forth in that way he only does when he’s particularly anxious, and Gem is hopping around the outside of the circle, too full of energy to sit still. Bdubs is a shade paler than usual, fingers buried deep in the moss of his cloak, his chair pushed as close to Scar as he can manage. Pearl is sitting on his other side, a frown on her face as she glances around the circle. Then there’s Cub, and beside him, Etho and Hypno, both of them evidently as concerned by this development as he is.

“Or—something,” Bdubs says, uncomfortable but not quite grumbling. “It’s like—everything’s covered in his soul.”

“His soul,” Etho echoes, sceptically.

“His soul, his consciousness, his self, whatever you wanna call it! But it’s everywhere.”

“I dunno, Bdubs, that sounds pretty…”

“Ridiculous?” Bdubs snaps. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it! But it’s real.”

“And the dungeon has flesh now,” Scar adds. “And it breathes. It’s really freaky! And I can’t find Tango anywhere.”

“I found him,” Bdubs says. “It was dark. He said he was in ‘the one place you can’t reach.’ Any ideas what that means?”

There’s a long, drawn-out pause.

“I mean…” says Cub. “There’s really only one place, isn’t there?”

“Where?” Scar asks.

“The Burning Dark.”

There’s another long, long pause.

“You mean level four,” Hypno clarifies.

“Well, it is the one place we can’t get to,” Cub points out.

“You want someone to get down to level four. To find Tango. Without dying. When it’s not even open?” Etho says, staring at him.

Cub shrugs. “Anyone have any better ideas?”

They don’t.

“Tango’s going to kill me,” Etho wails.

“Wait, who said anything about you being the one to do it?” Hypno says.

“Well—I mean, I thought…” Etho trails off awkwardly, shrugging. “Since I’m the best player, and all…”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hypno says with a huff. “I mean, me and Cub are pretty good at this, too!”

“Well, I mean, if you two want to do it, be my guest. Are your decks big enough?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“We could all do it,” Cub suggests.

They turn to stare at him. “What?”

“Well… it’s not like it’s a proper run, anyway. We’re not trying to get an artefact—we’re trying to get Tango. If we combine our decks, go in together… We might have a better chance of at least one of us making it.”

The two of them consider it. “It could work,” Hypno admits. “Wouldn’t it cause a lot of clank, though?”

“Well, then we sacrifice Etho to the Vex and keep on running.”

“Hey!”

“Sure. We can go in together. Why not?”

“Great. Etho? You in, man?”

Etho sighs. “Fine.”

“So that’s the plan?” Pearl says. “We send in the three best players and hope you guys can get him out?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I just feel like there’s something more we should be able to do.” She points at herself, Scar, and Bdubs, then waves a vague hand in Gem’s direction. “Right? I don’t wanna be sitting around twiddling my thumbs while you guys are down there.”

“I could try dreaming again?” Bdubs suggests. “Like—I could be down there all invisible helping you guys out.”

“And I’ll be your man in the van!” Scar declares.

“Our… what?” Hypno blinks.

“You know, your man in the van! Like Grian in Phasmo!”

“He means he’s gonna sit out here and not do anything,” Gem cuts in.

“Hey! I’m going to offer my best commentary.”

Etho pulls a face. “Can we pass on that?”

“Okay, so, what about me?” Pearl asks. “What should I do?”

“I know what you can do,” Gem says.

Pearl turns to look at her. “You do?”

“Sure.”

Cub glances up at Gem, and instantly his senses tell him that something is wrong. He can’t quite put his finger on it—is it that she’s suddenly stiller than usual? The way her fingers twitch towards the sword sheathed at her hip? The stony look in her eye, the smile stretching eerily across her mouth?

Before he can figure it out, Gem answers the question with, “You can stop me.”

Her sword is out before anyone can say anything to that, coming down on Bdubs’ shoulder and splitting him in two. Bdubs respawns in the bed across the room with a cry, his body dissolving into golden and green light that soaks into Gem’s skin as she laughs and wipes the blood from her skirt. Cub is on his feet in a matter of seconds, pulling his own weapon and shield, as the rest of their little circle scatters apart and away from her.

“Gem?” Pearl cries, drawing her axe, taking several careful steps back. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Pearl.” Gem’s smiling, but there’s a note of genuinity in her voice, a slight shake around the edges. “I can’t just let you break the rules!”

“Who died and made you hall monitor?” Scar mutters as he wheels as far back from Gem as he can get.

“Tango,” Gem says, her breath misting in the air like it’s several degrees colder than the waiting room actually is. “He told me I need to stop you by any means necessary.” She takes a step forward, swinging her sword and letting the tip of it drag across the ground. “And as much as I want to save him, well… Any means necessary it is. Unless... you stop me.” She steps just into Pearl’s personal space. Cub watches as frost begins to creep over the tip of Pearl’s nose.

“The dungeon ate you too,” he realises.

Gem grins with too-sharp teeth and swings her sword upwards.

“Run!” Pearl cries, parrying it with the blade of her axe. “Go, go!”

“You heard her!” Etho says, and then he and Hypno are running, leaving Cub watching the fight unfolding.

“Cub, what are you doing?” Hypno cries. “Come on!”

Cub should run, is the thing, should join them in their trip down. He knows it, right down to the itch in his skin that begs him to move. But that’s the problem—there’s an itch that makes him want to move. A foreign presence too familiar to not recognise, blue veins stretching across his skin, the voice different but the motive all the same.

Go with them, begs the skulk, begs the dungeon, and Cub looks at the ferocity with which Gem fights and feels an inkling of fear in the back of his brain.

The dungeon ate Tango. It’s eating Gem.

…What happens when it eats me, too?

“Cub! We’re gonna go without you!” Etho cries, and the skulk screams, and Cub flinches away from the fight and towards his friends.

“Sorry! Coming!” he cries, and races towards the drop-down into the hall below.

“Dude, for a moment, we thought you weren’t gonna come,” Hypno says. “Thought you were gonna leave us out to dry.”

“Nah, man,” Cub says, shoving his blue-coated hands in his pockets, trying not to squirm. “I’m with you, I’m with you.”

“Right. Everyone get their decks and meet back here,” Hypno says. “Who’s paying?”

There’s a long pause.

“Well, you know, I got the least shards…” Etho says, shuffling.

“You also have the best win rate.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“I’ll pay,” Cub says. “I’m sure Tango will reimburse me, anyway.”

The two of them glance at him. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Cub.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cub smiles at them. “I just wanna get down there as fast as possible. Speedrun, come on. Let’s get our decks.”

----

It’s weird, going in with three people: first they sort through their cards, try to figure out the best way to build their individual deck into one larger one, bicker about getting the correct cards back at the end of the day. Then they have to decide—well, it isn’t a real run, so is it worth taking their armour in? What about food? Would taking a sword to a ravager be a smart move, or a particularly stupid one?

Some part of Cub—a part that he’s not too keen on inspecting—recoils at the idea of cheating to such an extent, and he tells the others so. They agree—a little reluctantly, maybe, but he thinks they all feel uneasy at the idea of angering the dungeon, when it’s already in Gem trying to tear Pearl apart upstairs, and it’s already got Tango trapped somewhere deep within its depths. So: no armour, no food, no weapons. Just the three of them, and their frankenstein deck, and all the wits they have about them.

Man, Cub just hopes they aren’t making a mistake.

“Shotgun!” Hypno calls as he hops in the minecart. Cub hops onto the back of the minecart, arms around Hypno’s shoulders and feet firmly planted on the transom at the minecart’s rear.

“Sorry, Etho,” he says with a faux-sheepish, not at all apologetic smile at the third member of their party. “Guess you’ll have to walk.”

“Oh, no, I can fit,” Etho says, and promptly throws himself into Hypno’s lap.

Hypno yelps. “Dude!”

“What?” Etho bats his eyes innocently, but Cub will bet anything that there’s a smirk beneath that mask of his. “Are we ready to go?”

“I guess,” Hypno grumbles, wincing as Etho repositions himself in the cart.

“Press the button, let’s go,” Cub says.

“Pressing the button!” Etho says, reaching up to hit it and then ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling of the tunnel.

The minecart ride takes an age, and yet takes no time at all: the air turns frigid around them as they descend down into the depths, and Cub gets a sense of what Scar had been talking about, the feeling of being surrounded by something alive. He tightens his grip on Hypno’s shoulders, sucks in a steadying breath—

And then falls in a heap on top of the other two as they’re all forcibly ejected from the minecart into the same space.

“Oww…”

“Ugh.”

“Welp.” Cub stands and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Better not do that again.”

“Trust me, I’m not planning on it,” Hypno grouses. “Who wants the map?”

“You can take it man, I don’t mind,” Cub says. “Just keep us updated on the card count.”

“Got it.” Hypno picks up the map, leaving the compass floating behind in the entryway as he heads towards the door. “Okay, what’s the game plan?”

“Split up and look for a key?” Etho suggests.

“Won’t that just build up clank?” Hypno shoots back.

“EVASION,” bellows the dungeon.

“...Well, that answers that question,” Cub says, following the two of them down into the ice tunnels. “Anyone know where the ravagers are?”

“Not a clue,” Hypno says.

“Hopefully Tango will be nice to us,” Etho says. “Right, guys?”

“...Well, we can certainly hope,” Cub says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

His fingers close on the cold heavy compass shell that he did not put in there.

“Alright,” Hypno says as they make it to the circle. “Who’s going where?”

“I’ll go up the right tunnel!” Etho volunteers immediately.

“I’ll take the left,” Cub offers.

“And I’ll take the crypt, then,” Hypno says. “Okay. Use your comms—message if you have a key and we’ll meet at the kneeling man.”

“Gotcha,” Cub says, and with that they’re off.

There’s nothing by the TNT pond, and only a few coins in the treasure spot on the leftmost tunnel. He snags some berries and hops across the dripstone, pausing in the opening of the tunnel as he hears the distinctive huff of a ravager. He presses himself to the wall, and feels the wall shudder behind him, not quite solid. He freezes and, slowly, reaches back to press his hand into it.

The skulk that’s eaten into his fingers shivers, and like recognises like, and the cold surface of ice and stone feels almost warm.

Like frostbite, Cub thinks, almost absently. He feels warm, but he’s cold. His breath mists in the chill air.

Without thinking, he steps out into the path of a ravager.

He blinks at the ravager. It blinks back at him. He can see his silhouette reflected in its eyes.

“Hey, man,” Cub greets. “Are we gonna be cool about this? Great, thanks man. Knew I could count on you.”

He can feel the dungeon’s gaze on him as he stares the ravager in the eye. His fingers are black and blue. The cold feels almost cosy. He tightens his fingers around the compass.

“We’re cool,” he says again, and he’s not talking to the ravager this time. “I’ll get it, don’t you worry.”

The ravager, slowly, turns and begins to walk away.

<Hypnotizd> got a key

Cub turns and walks the other way, leaving black and blue footprints in his wake.

-----

Down on level two, there’s more ground to cover. Etho heads towards Rusty’s room. Hypno takes the lava pathway. Cub makes a beeline through mushrooms to the dripleaf parkour.

He finds a key in the amethyst, floating in the water right beneath a ravager’s feet. It watches him docilely as he ducks in and picks it up, leaving with a casual wave.

The parkour is easy. The lake, even easier. Willie throws a trident, but it feels more like a greeting, an inside joke, than it does a threat. The throw goes wide, anyway. Cub drags himself to shore, shakes off the water like a wet dog, and approaches the barrel.

He sucks in a breath. Tightens his fingers on the compass. Pulls out his communicator with his other hand.

<cubfan135> sorry guys

<cubfan135> gotta do it

<cubfan135> you know how it is

<Hypnotizd> ???

<Etho> cub what are you doing

<Hypnotizd> what

<cubfan135> good luck making it to lvl3

He tucks the device away and opens the barrel, placing the key into the slot. There’s a familiar chime, and then the door opens with the hiss of pistons firing. Cub takes a steadying breath as he steps through the doorway, and finally pulls the compass from his pocket.

His hand is fully covered in skulk, the veins rotting their way into his flesh, inseparable from his skin without carving them out. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. More skulk-spots dot the surface of the compass, but he can still see the needle through them. Can still see the inscription, telling him to go deeper into the dungeon.

And so Cub goes.

He doesn’t bother crouching. Level three goes so much quicker when you don’t have to worry about being quiet, when you know that even if the wardens do hear you, they won’t care. The skulk sloughs from his legs, leaving sticky trails of fungal soul rot behind him. He can feel it creeping up his spine, weaving into the cracks between the bones. The dungeon is dark, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s got rot in his eyes, or because he’s close enough to a warden for the blindness to take effect. He supposes it doesn’t really matter. He knows where he’s going anyway, the skulk veins in his nervous system controlling his legs so that he doesn’t have to.

Hm. It must be in his brain already. If it wasn’t, he’d probably be a lot more panicked about being puppeted like this.

When did it get so bad? He feels like he should have noticed it getting quite this bad sometime before this run. It had started when he’d begun running deadlies, of course, when he’d first touched the skulk and had veins wrap themselves around the tips of his fingers, like recognises like. The rot knows that he’s been a home for it before—knew he would be a home for it again. And Cub had taken that little vein, that infection, back up to the surface, and he’d told it no. Had told it, just for Halloween. Just a costume. He wouldn’t do what he did last time, and overtake the server with mould and decay. He’s not about that, anymore.

And yet, here he is, covered in the stuff, rot in his bones and blood and brain. How had he not noticed? How had nobody noticed?

(He thinks of Gem, perched in the walls, skin turning grey and eyes turning sharp. He thinks of Tango, trapped by his own dungeon, deep within the depths of a cave he’d sacrificed months of his life to. He thinks of run after run, of heart-pounding, adrenaline-rushing fun, of shard-cravings and withdrawal-fever, and he thinks that maybe, maybe he understands.)

(Nobody had wanted to notice, because noticing would have meant having to stop.)

(And nobody wants to stop playing Decked Out.)

Cub comes to a halt as the compass’ needle begins to spin wildly. He takes a few steps back and forth, feeling for the minecart beneath his feet, and drops the compass into the hopper.

A dispenser spits... something back into his hands.

CF135, says the label on the something, but this is not the artefact Cub’s familiar with, not the model rocketship with his name carved into the side. This could barely be called an artefact at all, a bloody and writhing handful of intestine, frozen half-rotted flesh beneath his fingers. He gags, nearly dropping the guts, blood spattering against the skulk that coats his legs and being absorbed into the rot. The guts themselves have spots of skulk-vein spattered across them, barely visible through the red, pulsing blood that drips from them, and they twitch despite clearly being dead, dead, dead.

“What is this?” he cries out to the dungeon. “Why have you given me this?”

Something tugs on his leg. Gently, barely there, and then—

Cub lets out a scream as he’s pulled down through the floor, pain flooding his body as his pelvis hits the hard stone floor. The skulk surges, crawling up his body, consuming all in his wake, tugging him down, down, down. The intestines wrap themselves around his neck, squeezing just tight enough that his limited vision darkens even further, that he panics, before loosening ever so slightly to allow him to gasp.

Cub wails.

“Hey, no, stop it, I don’t—Tango! Tango, hey, man, please, stop it—!”

The dungeon quivers around him. The skulk slows in its consumption, leaving Cub half-eaten and shaking on the dungeon floor. His chest shudders as he sucks in one breath, and then another.

“That’s it, man,” he manages to choke out through the tears. “We can talk about this, can’t we? I promise—I won’t even try and get you out, if you don’t want me to. I’ll stop the others. Just—don’t do this. Okay?”

Everything is still for a moment. Silent.

Cub feels a vein of skulk drag itself slowly, comfortingly, across his cheek, leaving a bloom of decay in its wake.

“Cubby,” the dungeon sighs, voice as unfamiliar as the word is familiar, and Cub lets out a sigh of relief.

“Tango! Hey, man. Good to see you, good to see you.” He may be a little delirious, actually, he thinks as he babbles. “Hey, so, you can let me go, yeah? I’ll get out of your hair—or into it if you’d prefer—whatever, man, I’ll do whatever, as long as you let me go. So—we’re good? Yeah?”

The intestines tighten, not enough to choke, but enough to hold. A hug, an embrace, in the only way a dungeon made of rotting flesh knows how. Cub melts into it. He’s in so much pain, is the thing. He’s in so much pain, and he’s so, so cold.

Something yanks on his leg, and a shrieker howls, and the skulk devours, and Cub manages one last cry before he’s pulled down into the dark.

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #magpie feather quill #i am SO tired oh my god #i managed to finish ch 5 today though!#so tomorrow's chapter is good to go (though may also be up late i have plans tomorrow evening as well)#and then saturday i gotta try and finish this thing #wish me luck #and i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime

22 notes · View notes

edandstede · 10 months

Text

now i dunno about yous guys but i’m havin a blast on this website for the first time in a hot minute

#really getting that mid 2010s energy back #and i’m watching from the sidelines like #ey kids you gotta learn for yourself the hard way eh #slapping you all on the back and sending you off to the trenches #good luck fellas #quill to paper #personal

8 notes · View notes

ikahim · 1 year

Text

So I just pledged some money to TMA2 (The Magnus Protocol), and I just wanna say I'm on cloud 9 knowing there will be so much extra content and stuff to look out for and damn Imma ride this hype train all the way to october 2023.

I know we will get some high quality already, but if you like horror in all its shapes and liked The Magnus Archives, put one dollar. I know we won't regret this.

#tma #tma2 #tma 2 electric boogaloo #rusty quill #thanks a lot #jonathan sims #good luck

7 notes · View notes

rainbowwing251 · 1 year

Note

related to the post you reblogged: feather-ticklish noah <3 -tickleraptorss

YES

YES YES YES

Noah is so feather-ticklish that even one accidental brush of Eunie’s wings on his neck/ears/stomach would cause him to topple over onto the floor.

And I know I’ve mentioned this scenario in a previous post, but since it’s relevant to the topic at hand, I think it bears repeating: Mio and Eunie occasionally team up to torment Noah by tickling his ears. When they’re not blowing into his ears or wiggling their fingers in them, Eunie will pull two loose feathers from her wings, give one to Mio, and work with her to tickle Noah’s ears until he’s nothing more than a puddle of giggles.

#tickling #xenoblade chrontickles #xenoblade chrontickles 3 #lee!Noah #Ler!Eunie #With special guest Ler!Mio #I also thought of Taion using a feather like a quill pen to pretend to draw a route to Ouroboros' next destination on Noah's stomach #It flusters the latter to no end because they have Irises!#they have a map!#and yet Taion is using HIM to plan their next move?!#yeah it leaves him red with embarrassment #but he doesn't really mind? good luck getting him to admit that though

3 notes · View notes

gay-otlc · 2 years

Note

Yes yes yes

!!!!!

#good fuckin luck ash and quill is A Time

2 notes · View notes

sleyu · 9 months

Text

DATING JAMES POTTER INCLUDES . . .

PAIRING: JAMES POTTER X READER

GENRE: FLUFF & SMUT

If anyone is boyfriend coded, it's James.

James is so desperate for your attention. It’s fully up to you how you would react to the stunts he’d pull and all the nonsense he’d say for you to spare just a mere glance at him, but as soon as you do, he’s not shutting up for days. So much so, you’d find Remus on his hands and knees, begging to give James a chance so that he could finally study in peace.

When James falls in love, the person he is infatuated with and the things in relation to them is the only thing that remains in his mind.

‘Ugh,’ he thinks, ‘Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop is an eye sore.’ But wait, ‘Y/n loves pink. I ought to bring her here next time.’ He thinks.

James, contrary to what he makes himself out to be in front of his friends before meeting you, abandons any sense of his pride and ego when it comes to his girl.

Before falling in love with you, James would scoff and snicker at couples around Hogwarts, at people holding hands, cheeks flushed and eyes starry-eyed, as they’d walk together in Hogsmeade.

Meeting you, falling in love with you—finally making you his—made him love every corny, cheesy aspect of being with someone, completely endeared and left sheepish by their every breath and movement.

During ’ O.W.L.S. or any test for that matter, one could steal a glance at James, only to see him absentmindedly writing down your initials with a heart right beside them on his parchment, looking almost bored at his otherwise empty paper.

Anytime he would find himself stuck on a question, he would sigh happily, putting his quill down and all his focus on you, trying to find you sitting in the exam hall, smiling in amusement at the look of determination on your face.

James being in love means him attempting to look for your face during every quidditch match, upon every win, and during every loss, trying his best to search for your reaction. All he wants is for you to see him in his glory, and no amounts of pats on his back or the cheers he receives from crowds compare to the feeling of your thumb caressing his cheek, or your hands softly patting him on the head, telling him how proud you are of him and how you couldn’t take his eyes off him.

James finds it tough to admit and often struggles to communicate it, but he needs your praise. He needs you to tell him that he did good, that he looks handsome, that he’s brilliant for his latest prank, and that no one else compares to him. Of course, it’s an ego boost for him, but behind his egotistic front is a vulnerable, questioning man who doubts himself often, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to you.

‘Did I do good, love?’ he’d ask, desperation seeping from his honey-like voice, as though he’s unable to wait for your answer, fearing the possibility of your displeasure. ‘Please tell me I did.’

Of course, this manifests in your sex life. James needs praise always and rarely ever incorporates degradation into his lovemaking. He not only tells you how pretty you look for him, how good you feel wrapped around his leaking cock, but also begs you to be vocal, to communicate your pleasure and to tell him that you only belong to him and that no one else could make you feel as good as him.

‘Need you to tell me, baby—fuck! Wanna make you feel good—wanna make my good girl feel good—god.’

‘Tell me—tell me you love me. Say it again—need to hear it again,’

James begs that you leave a kiss mark on his cheek for ‘Good luck,’ right before a quidditch game.

The mandatory uniform for Gryffindor Quidditch matches is James’ jersey. Nothing fuels his pride and his absolute enamour for you more than seeing his last name plastered across your chest and back, proudly and visibly displaying your support for him and only him.

After a big win, you can expect to be fucked in the jersey. James swears he’s never cum faster than he has when he took you from behind and watched as your back arched; the name, ‘Potter,’ printed upon your trembling body as though it was a mark of ownership and loyalty.

Dating James means that he’s treating you as though you’re made of glass. Gentle touches and grips to your waist as the two of you walk in the school corridors, and adoring coos when he sees you slump against him, tired from a long day.

‘My poor angel. Always working so hard, yeah? C’mon, I’ll take care of you.’

He’d rather die than hear you call him by his name. To James, calling him by his name means that you’re treating him as though he were any other person when he isn’t. He needs to hear the affection laced in your words. The soft, gentle mumble of ‘baby, darling, Jamie, honey,’ is all he seeks to hear from you and he practically crumbles against the gentle caress of your hand on his cheek when you refer to him by a pet name.

‘James,’ you sigh, exasperated. Your boyfriend furrows his eyebrows, ‘That’s baby to you!’

During the summer, he’d insist you attach a photo of you with every letter you send him, whether it’s you on vacation or simply in your room, he has to get his fill of you.

He’d spend so much money on little trinkets for you, little items he would pick up from the sneaky Marauders Hogsmeade trips.

Sirius would huff as James pulled him into a stationary shop, ‘James, can we please stop making pit stops? We have 30 minutes left.’ James shook his head, grinning to himself as he picked up several pretty pens he reckons you’d love, ‘Need to supply the missus with gifts, Pads.’

James would be so happy once you begin warming up to the Marauders. His favourite people loving his favourite person? It’s his dream come true and as soon as he sees you bickering with Sirius, having long and insightful discussions with Remus, and casually hanging around Peter, he knows he’s going to be with you for a very, very long time. He’ll make sure of it, he decides then.

James would most certainly carry your bag as he drops you off to class. The first time he attempted in doing it, the two of you were tugging your bag for five minutes, arguing with each other about who would carry the pound of weight on your shoulders. He won, much to your dismay, but a surge of warmth bursts through him the first time you hand your bag over to him mindlessly, without him asking or fighting you for it, as though you had expected him to do it. He treasures these moments in your relationship where he begins to realize that habits between the two of you are beginning to grow and that you both are becoming used to being such an integral part of each other's lives.

He constantly tells you that you’re his everything and that all he does is for you and only you.

Study dates with him are entirely pointless as they never lead to actual studying as James cannot survive five minutes without your undivided attention on him. What do you mean you have to read a textbook for an hour? No periodic breaks to kiss your boyfriend or to coo at him? The only way actual studying will get done is if you promise him a kiss for every correct answer he gets—but we all know where that’s leading to.

He was the first one to say, ‘I love you,’ in the relationship. He would probably say it very quickly as he had known he loved you before the two of you dated, but he’s entirely fine with you wanting to take your time in dissecting your feelings for him.

Until you say it back, with every night and morning kiss, every departure before class, he’d whisper a giddy, ‘I love you, darling,’ to which you’d smile bashfully. Once you do say it back, he’s smiling like an idiot for two weeks straight. He would be almost annoying about it, like a child on Christmas Day. He’d tell you that he loves you repeatedly only to hear you say his four favourite words: ‘I love you too.’

4K notes · View notes

the0doreslover · 4 months

Text

My friend | theo nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: short sorry, fluff, poor baby enzo

summary: this amazing ask right here

"Mr. Berkshire and Miss L/n," Professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom. You halted your quill's progress on your parchment and turned your attention toward the back, where Lorenzo Berkshire sat engaged in conversation with Theodore Nott.

"Good luck," Hermione snickered

"Yeah, thanks, Mione," you sighed, observing Lorenzo, who seemed content to stay put. With a sigh, you gathered your belongings and maneuvered your way over to him.

"Look, she's obedient, Enzo," Theodore laughed, shooting you a sly look.

"Very funny. Let's just get this over with, yeah?" you retorted.

That was three weeks ago. In the time that followed, your friendship with Lorenzo deepened into something unexpected. Together, you not only successfully completed the assigned project, earning an impressive grade, but Lorenzo had also become a helpful study companion for your upcoming potions assignment. His willingness to help and his genuine sweetness had endeared him to you, turning him into more than just a classmate.

As the days turned into weeks, your friendship continued to flourish. Studying together became a ritual, and the laughter you shared transcended the walls of Hogwarts. Yet, amidst this newfound friendship, there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn't ignore

Theodore Nott's grumpy demeanor. God It was as if he wanted to murder you

He saw you with enzo? his eyes rolled

Enzo wanted you to eat with them? His eyes rolled

You wanted to study with enzo? His eyes rolled

You had made a joke to enzo that one day that his eyes are going to get stuck there, but unfortunately for you he had come to give enzo his study book and heard you, but what did he do? he rolled his eyes.

To be fair to him, you weren’t any better

Enzo had to go practise with theodore? you’d sigh

Enzo wanted theodore to study with you? you’d sigh

Enzo had to go back to his dorm to see theo? you’d sigh

Poor enzo couldn’t keep up with you both, he felt like he was going mad. So what did he do? He went to blaise.

“Wow that’s alot man” blaise nodded before getting a whack from pansy.

“No enzo listen to me, they both just need to get to know each other, the only thing they think they ahve in common is you, so if we remove you maybe they’ll find something they actually like about each other” pansy explained

“Or maybe they just both have serious crushes on each other” draco piped in finally lifting his head from his book.

“go back to your book draco”

Enzo had told you to meet him in his dorm to study, which you found a bit weird but then again, enzos a weird guy. you knocked once but he didn’t answer, so you knocked again a bit louder.

“Finally you took your tim- oh it’s you” theodore nott stood infront of you his eyes raking up and down your body.

you pushed past him “where’s enzo?”

“No you’ve got it wrong princess, i’m hanging out with enzo today” he walked closer to you

“No theodore, he told me to meet him here”

he was just about to say something when you both heard the door latch shut

“You’re not coming out until you become friends, i can’t take this anymore”

“Enzo!” you shouted through the door “Enzo please open the door”

“When you become friends!”

you pressed your ear against the door and heard a few other voices

“enzo this is not what i meant at all”

“how do i get into my room?”

“This is your fault princess” you turned around and saw theodore on his bed watching you

“my fault? maybe if you didn’t make me feel like you’ve hated me this wouldn’t of happened”

Theodore was caught off guard by your response "Maybe if you weren't always stealing Enzo's attention, he could've been here to hang out with me."

His words hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension between you two. You were definitely not expecting such a direct accusation. Theodore, on the other hand, immediately regretted his choice of words as he saw the impact they had on you.

Before you could respond, he sighed and muttered, "I didn't mean it like that."

Fed up, you sighed. “what’s your deal? We can’t keep up like this, for enzo, the poor guy looks like he’s aging for gods sake.”

He hesitated, before choosing to stay silent

Your eyes narrowed. “maybe if you weren’t such a sour git, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Theodore shot you a glare“Maybe if you weren’t always acting like you own the place, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

The argument escalated, each insult flying like sparks from a misfiring spell. The dorm now echoed with your bickering. It was like a full-on wizard duel, but with words instead of wands.

“Merlin’s beard, Theo, can’t you just chill for once?” you snapped.

“Chill? Maybe you should lower your ego!” Theodore shot back.

“me lower my ego! theodore you’re a teenager acting like a toddler

The back-and-forth continued, like a never-ending Quidditch match of insults. But then, in the midst of the verbal chaos, something shifted. There was a moment, a beat where you both just stopped, realizing how ridiculous the argument had become.

Theodore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is stupid. Why are we even fighting?”

You rolled your eyes. “Beats me, Theo. Maybe you just enjoy being a prat.”

He smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And maybe you just enjoy being a know-it-all.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, the tension dissipating like a deflating balloon. Then, in a twist of events, Theodore did something unexpected. He closed the distance between you, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours.

It was like a jinx had hit you, leaving you momentarily stunned. The argument was forgotten as he brung you impossibly closer to him

And when he pulled away, there was a smirk on his face. “Well, that shut you up.”

You blinked, still processing what just happened. “What the hell, Theo?”

He chuckled, the tension between you replaced by an awkward sort of understanding. “I figured we needed a different kind of distraction.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re mental, you know that?”

Theodore grinned. “Maybe. But at least we’re not fighting anymore.”

“Hm, i guess your right”

“is it safe to come in now!” enzo shouted wailed

“No enzo she just stabbed me in the gut”

you watched as the door slowly opened and enzo came in along with blaise pansy and draco.

“can i just say that i was right?” draco smirked taking a bite of his apple

#harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #x reader #slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy

1K notes · View notes

malfoyscoffee · 13 days

Text

blame the fire whiskey ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x slytherin!reader about fluff | 1.7k words | best friends to lovers warnings mentions of drinking (not reader)

this is based on my shorter writing here

"Oh, come on. You have to come to the game today!"

One skill that your best friend had was being so convincing; I mean, who could say no to Theodore Nott's big brown eyes when he begs you to attend his quidditch game later against Gryffindor, or his signature grin when you finally agree to go after he persistently asked you all day.

"Fine," You're working on a Transfiguration paper while lying on Theodore's bed as you finally give in to his request. "I'll go to the quidditch game later." You raise your head to stare at him, seeing a smile on his lips when he gets up from his chair and walks over to his closet.

"Now, let's look a little excited now, please?" Theodore is busy rummaging through his closet when you place your quill down briefly, "Wait, are Pansy and Astoria going too?"

You watch the boy focus on moving his hanged clothes to the side, looking for something. His room was neat compared to the state of his closet, and you stared out the window to see the spring leaves blooming.

"Yeah," Theodore's head is now searching through the depths of his closet, "They told me earlier that they're going." You hum in delight, thanking Salazar that your friends will be there in the stands while your other friends will be on the field playing.

"Where did I place it?" You hear Theodore mumble but decide to continue working on your paper.

A few moments later, you feel a piece of clothing cover your face, "Theo! What is this?" You exclaim while removing the object to identify it.

Theodore laughs at your annoyed expression, walking over to you, "It's my jersey, of course."

You observe the jersey clearly, seeing his name on the backside of the green clothing.

"Obviously, but why are you throwing this to me?" You ask again, wanting to hear the verbal explanation directly from his lips.

Theodore shrugs his shoulders, pulling the jersey out of your hands and making you sit up. He silently places the jersey on top of your current clothes before he looks satisfied.

"Theo," You look at him with a faint smile, "Answer me,"

"It's for good luck," Theodore stared at the clock and walked over to pick up his broomstick, as it was almost time for his practice. "Do you really want Slytherin to lose today?"

You were surprised when Pansy and Astoria didn't ask why you wore Theodore's jersey to the game. But you were even more surprised when you heard someone faintly calling your name from a distance.

"Turn around," Astoria shook your shoulders, breaking you out of your conversation with Pansy.

"Theo?" You question the obvious. A happy-looking Theodore was flying to the stands while calling your name.

You laugh at his actions, not noticing the curious eyes from around you. Since the game ended, students had eventually noticed that you were wearing Theodore’s jersey, almost as if you were dating.

"I'll see you later when you get down," He waves before flying away, finally hearing the choruses of teasing around you.

"Theo!" You run up to him on the field, "Congrats on the win!" Theodore wraps his arm around you when you reach him, brushing some hair out of your face.

"Thanks, it was because you wore my jersey today," He looks down at you when you pull away. Pansy and Mattheo hear the sound of your laughter when they approach the two of you.

"So," Pansy says to the three of you, "We're all going to the celebration party later, right?"

You felt Theodore snake a hand around your waist and use his other hand to brush through his hair.

Pansy spots Astoria, Draco, Lorenzo, and Blaise walking toward the four of you, "Yeah, I think so,” Mattheo answers her, looking at Theodore. "Draco said there's going to be Fire Whiskey tonight, so Theo’s drinking with me."

When your other friends reach you, all of you walk back towards the castle, betting on who's getting wasted the most tonight.

It was Lorenzo.

The boy was wasted and fast asleep on one of the couches in the Slytherin common room. The loud music and conversations were not disrupting his sleep, with too much alcohol in his system.

Soon, Pansy and Astoria called it a night, ensuring they would take Lorenzo back to his dorm because they didn’t want to leave him sleeping outside any longer.

All of you bid them goodbye, relaxing back on the couch that your group spent parties on.

Theodore remains to share the spacious couch with you, laughing and taking the bottle away from a drunk Mattheo when the boy spills out of the shot glasses.

"So, did you finish the Potions project yet?" You watch Draco take a slow sip from his cup, containing a punch that half the people at the party were drinking.

"How could I," Blaise answered your question with a sigh, "Enzo didn't even know how to brew the Forgetfulness Potion during first year; what makes you think he can brew Veritaserum?"

You and Draco laugh when Blaise reaches over to grab one of the shots that Theodore had poured, a defeated look on his face when he drowns the alcohol.

Blaise motioned a shot glass toward you, silently asking if you wanted a shot.

"I'm not drinking tonight, but thanks." You then tilted your back to the couch, observing that you were the only one completely sober.

Draco looks at Blaise while rolling his eyes, "At least you're spending your summer in Italy," before he turns to you, "What are you doing during break?"

You noticed Theodore out of the corner of your eye, leaning back towards you and resting his head on your shoulder.

"I'm visiting my relative's manor for a week, but other than that, I'll be home," You start running your hands through Theodore's hair, "Oh, and I'm going over to Theo’s manor to visit. His father wanted to catch up with my parents, so we're staying over for a few days."

Blaise and Draco notice Theodore smile and lightly blush while his eyes remain closed, but they simply chose to look at each other with knowing eyes.

"That sounds fun," Blaise shakes his head before grabbing another shot from the table, too sober to be thinking about his single love life.

Theodore quietly yawns, catching all three of your attention, "Can we head back?" You hear his voice low, “The music is starting to give me a headache."

Your two friends hear Theodore's request, looking at Mattheo to find him passed out on his seat.

"Do you need help taking Theo back?" Draco asks, getting up from his seat and walking over to Mattheo.

You shake your head no, "Theo’s sleeping over at my dorm tonight, don't worry." Theodore rises, lacing his hand with yours to follow where you lead him.

"Okay, you two head back first," Blaise suggests, “It’s going to take a while to get Mattheo to open his eyes."

You nod, tugging Theodore's arm so he will follow you, walking over to the staircase to your dorms.

The moment you open the door, Theodore beelines to your bed, lying on it faced down.

"Salazar, Theo," You laugh at his tired figure, deciding to leave him alone while you go in the bathroom. "I'll be right back, so stay in bed."

When you hear a mumble from Theodore, you assume he’s too sleepy to move around, so you start getting ready for bed.

"Hey," You shake Theodore's back when you finish, "Are you still awake?"

Theodore's eyes are half-opened when he moves to one side of your bed, giving you space to join him.

You can't help but smile at his peaceful state, finally going under your covers. Theodore reaches his arms out to pull you closer to him, always down to cuddle when he sleeps over.

When Theodore doesn't say a word, you close your eyes, assuming he would have fallen asleep by now.

That's when you felt a faint touch hovering over your face, causing you to open your eyes.

There was Theodore, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, staring intensely after waking you up.

"Sorry," He whispers, but he continues to trace his fingers over your facial features before resting his hand on your cheek.

"Are you alright?" You question him, wondering what was running through his mind.

Theodore closes his eyes for a brief moment, eventually opening it and swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Listen, I have to get something off my chest,” He can’t help but smile when your curious eyes bore into his, “I can’t tell you when I'm sober,"

"What do you need to tell me?" Now you're confused; was Theodore keeping something from you?

"I’m blaming this on the Fire Whiskey if it goes wrong, but I’ve fancied you for years—since I first met you when you approached me and Enzo on the train.”

Theodore started to sober up when it hit him, that he had finally confessed his feelings for you. It starts to eat him up inside when you remain silent, loss at words.

Theodore furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, afraid that he had read all the signs wrong and about to cry to your friends that their advice was useless.

He suddenly felt your hand hover over the one that he had resting on your face, intertwining the two.

"Theo, I like you too. I have, for years now," You say with a smile, "I'm glad you confessed first because I was afraid to tell you first."

Theodore pulled your covers over his head with his free hand and let out a sigh of relief.

"Theo," He peeked his head back out, "Are you sober enough to remember this tomorrow?"

Theodore grins at you, "Of course, I'm going to remember this," He faces you this time, close enough to smell the alcohol lingering on his breath, "Now, can I have the honor of being your boyfriend?"

You close your eyes and close the gap by pressing a kiss at his lips, pulling away with a starstruck Theodore staring back at you.

"I would like that, boyfriend."

Theodore wakes up because of the sunlight casting down on his face, and rubbing his eyes before realizing you were still fast asleep next to him.

He gently places a kiss on your forehead, causing you to stir and yawn.

"Good morning, Amore Mio."

604 notes · View notes

todayontumblr · 6 months

Text

Wednesday, November 1.

NaNoWriMo.

As one door closes, another door opens. So if you are feeling a little glum, a little blue, a little crestfallen this morning, as you pack your coffins, drone-controlled ghouls, pumpkins, and Normal Human Man costumes into the attic for another year, fear not. Because the passing of October 31st can only mean the arrival of November 1st. And the arrival of this date will be exciting and daunting news for y'all in Tumblr's writing community—it's #nanowrimo.

Keyboards, touchscreens, typewriters, pens, and quills at the ready, folks. You've got 30 days to do 50,000 words. They are not going to write themselves.

Good luck x

912 notes · View notes

wandasgf · 7 months

Text

THERE'S JUST ONE THING I WANT (your blood all over me)

pairings: final girl!reader + slashers!wandanat, pre-established bucky + reader

summary: movie night at your boyfriend bucky's on friday the 13th, what could go wrong?

warnings: depictions of violence and murder, cult dynamics (cult leader wanda), character death (not reader), cheating, manipulation, patriarchal ideals, misogyny, power dynamics, pet names, mommy kink, dom!natasha, sub!reader, dom!wanda, fingering, groping

wc: 5.7k~

A/N: sorry bucky...

Friday the 13th, a universal day of bad luck and bad omens. You were never one to be overly superstitious, you did have a black cat, Liho, after all, but something about this just felt like a bad idea. Bucky had proposed the idea of having a movie night of sorts to celebrate the unofficial holiday, wanting to invite some friends over and watch a few horror movies. He explicitly wanted to ‘watch Parker piss his pants over a little movie,’ which you rolled your eyes at.

“I don't know if this is a good idea, Buck…” You sigh, looking up at the taller man through your lashes, your arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Who doesn't love a good horror movie?” He laughs, though he knows you don't, “besides, I'll keep you safe. Don't worry.” He pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You know I don't like those kinds of movies,” you huff, “and your friends are always… weird.” You mumble, burying your face in his chest. He sighs above you, starting to run his fingers through your hair, “I know, I know, but it'll just be one movie. And it's just the guys! They're harmless, come on, you know that!” His tone is lighthearted, but he tugs a little on your hair at the last part. “You can invite some of your friends,” he offers, “who've you been hanging out with lately? Wanda? Natasha? Carol?” and then he quickly changes his mind, he doesn't like her attitude towards either of you, “Ugh, no, don't invite Carol… How about that Kate girl? You can invite the redheads and Kate?”

“...okay, but promise you won't pick one that's too scary?”

“Promise, scaredy cat.”

Friday comes quickly and you're currently preparing for Bucky’s friends to come over, making sure there's cold beer in the fridge and snacks for them to eat. Your boyfriend was setting up the television apparently, telling you that you were always better in the kitchen than he was and then disappearing into the living room. Some of your friends were coming too, which you were grateful for. You had debated inviting Carol even though Bucky said not to, but decided against it. Wanda and Kate would be here soon, but Natasha said she had something she needed to do with Yelena tonight and wouldn’t be able to make it.

You play with the ring around your finger before you start to put bowls and dishes on the island’s countertop in front of you, humming softly to yourself as you make sure it looks presentable. You were never one to like an ugly spread. Bucky chooses this time to come into the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, “see? Told you, you’re so much better in the kitchen than I am.”

“You’re just saying that because I cut up some plums for you.”

“You got me.” He chuckles, reaching forward to grab a slice of the fruit, “the boys should be here soon, you should get changed.” He pats your bare thigh, the shorts you’re wearing are decidedly too short for him, and then pulls away from you and starts to walk away.

“You didn’t seem to mind my outfit earlier!” You call out after him teasingly, and he just turns around to give you a pointed look, opening his mouth to speak before promptly closing it when he hears a car pull into the driveway. “That must be Steve. Go get changed.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It did turn out to be Steve, and you greet him after you’ve come back downstairs. This time dressed in a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. Bucky’s friends arrive in quick succession after that: Steve, Sam, Tony, Peter (Quill, not Parker. Parker couldn’t make it), and even Rhodey showed up which was apparently something of a miracle. Wanda’s friend Vision was away for work, otherwise you might have asked her to bring him too. You sip on a drink in the kitchen with Wanda while you wait for Kate, it was far too loud in the living room with all the boys. Especially because Tony had started drinking. You don’t envy Pepper, the man could be loud while sober, so this was almost unbearable. You remind yourself that they’re Bucky’s friends and it’s just one evening, he’ll make it up to you tomorrow.

“You know, you could have just told him we were going out and you wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this,” Wanda hums, lifting her glass up to her lips and taking a sip of wine, “I know how much you hate these kinds of movies.”

“I know, but he seemed excited about it, and you know him… I don’t want to be down on something he’s actually excited about.” You lean against the counter, holding your glass in both hands against your chest. “He said he’d pick a movie that wasn’t too scary, but we can probably get away with just being in here for the whole night. It’s not like they’ll really notice.”

“You don’t think Bucky will notice if you’re not within two feet of him at all times? You must have forgotten who you’re talking about.” Wanda laughs humorlessly, a tight smile on her lips. None of your friends were particularly… fond of your boyfriend. It’s not that they hated him, he could be a nice guy, it’s just that sometimes the way he treated you was more like the way you’d treat a child or a trophy than a girlfriend.

Just then Bucky’s voice interrupts the two of you with a ‘babe!’ and you excuse yourself from the kitchen. You’re semi-grateful for it, not wanting to get into this Wanda right now, but you wanted to avoid the guys for longer than you were able to.

It turns out he had just wanted another beer, which you brought him and he accepted with a kiss to your cheek. You’re certain that Peter was going to ask for one too until he and Bucky had some sort of silent conversation, so you slipped out of the room to avoid whatever the outcome might have been. Things between the two of them could get tense.

Wanda gives you a look when you re-enter the kitchen and you shrug, “he was having some sort of debate with Steve, he didn’t want to lose his train of thought.”

“Uh huh…” The strawberry blonde opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s cut off when she hears a sharp, feminine scream pierce her ears. A scream that she knows doesn’t belong to the horror movie everyone is supposed to be watching tonight. She gives you an indecipherable look, and you look back at her with wide eyes, frightened. “Was that… the movie? Buck didn’t say he was starting it yet…”

She doesn’t answer you, waiting to see if maybe she can hear the background noise of a movie coming from the living room, maybe they decided on a different movie. But when she doesn’t hear anything besides confused chatter she can’t quite decipher she shakes her head, “I don’t think so.”

You’re soon joined by Bucky and the rest of the guys in the kitchen when he rushes in to make sure the scream he heard wasn’t, in fact, his girlfriend. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?” He holds you at arm’s length to inspect you, making sure you weren’t hurt. You could be a little clumsy, and he knows you’ve been drinking some wine, so he thought maybe you had decided to cut up some fruit and dropped the knife, accidentally cutting yourself. But after a quick once over, he realizes that you’re fine.

“I-I don’t know. Wanda and I were just talking in here and then we heard a scream. I thought maybe you started the movie without us. Do you think someone’s hurt somewhere? Oh God, this is exactly how those horror movies you like so much start out. I told you doing something like this today was a bad idea, Buck–”

The back door opens and you barely hear it, still rambling until Bucky puts his hand over your mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, and you’re about to move his hand to tell him off, who cares that his friends are here, until you hear a set of footsteps and realize that everyone is standing still and tense. Bucky’s house had a bit of an odd layout. Whereas other houses kitchen’s were in the back of the house, his was near the front.

Your boyfriend was always hyper vigilant, even when there was no reason to be, but when he brings his finger up to his lips to signal you to be quiet, you think that maybe there is a reason this time. Even Tony seems to have shut up, looking slightly concerned. Maybe all your talk about bad omens was getting to everyone.

There’s a tension in the air and everything is silent for a moment until the footsteps continue, getting closer and closer…

Your breath gets caught in your throat when a masked figure steps through the doorway. They have a long, sharp, knife-like blade in one hand, the front of their shirt and mask splattered with blood. In the other hand, you see a coat you recognize, one you know belongs to Kate, splattered and stained with blood. Wordlessly, they hold it up and tilt their head, their green eyes sparkling at the recognition and horror on your face. A scream rips through your throat before you can stop it.

Bucky turns and he’s quick to push you behind him as soon as you scream while everyone else is frozen in place, eyes wide with shock. “Very funny guys, love that you hired an actor to scare the shit out of my girlfriend, very clever. When I said I wanted to scare her, I meant with the movie. So she would be extra clingy tonight, so we could– not the point. This isn’t cool.” His tone hardens with the last three words, feeling the way you’re shaking slightly behind him from fear.

“Buck, we didn’t… this isn’t us.” Sam speaks up and the masked stranger decides that this is enough talking for now before they surge towards Peter, who’s drunk enough to move just a bit too slowly. Their knife plunges into his stomach and he lets out a loud yell, drink dropping from his hand and glass shattering against the floor, doubling over when the knife is taken out and then plunged into his flesh again and again and again.

The action is enough to snap everyone out of their frozen states and send everyone running in a panic. You vaguely hear a ‘holy fuck!’ before Bucky grabs your hand and drags you out of the room, planning to circle around the killer and then exit the house. He lives at the end of a relatively secluded street, but he has his car and if he can get to it, he knows he could get the both of you away from danger quite quickly. He’d be sorry about his friends, but he can always make new ones.

“B-Buck, wait! We can’t just leave Wanda, what if she’s next? Please, we can't just leave. That was Kate’s coat, they got Kate. We can’t leave everyone.”

“We might get killed and you're worried about that redheaded b– fine, we can make sure Wanda’s okay.” He concedes when he sees your face, pulling you into the bathroom with him and shutting the door. He takes a breath and then locks it. If all else fails, the two of you can stay in here until morning, but right now he apparently needs a new plan.

He pats his pockets to try and find his phone, if nothing at all he needs to call the police. He groans when he realizes he left it on the couch. “Fuck.”

At some point you and Bucky get separated, it's hard to stay together in chaos like this. Maybe going back for Wanda was a bad idea, but you just couldn't leave her to fend for herself, especially after what you can only assume happened to Kate. And seeing what happened to Peter, you couldn’t let that happen to her. Stupid, maybe, but she was one of your closest friends.

You don't know how long it's been until you find yourself in a group again. Except now you're missing Peter, Tony, Steve and Rhodey. By the look on Bucky’s face, you know they all must have suffered the same fate as Peter.

“What do we do, man? We could try to leave, but that only got Steve killed. Did anyone call the cops? I can't find my phone.” Sam paces the room.

Steve’s body lays limp and slightly cold on the stone path leading from Bucky’s porch to the driveway. He didn’t get very far.

“I did.” Wanda speaks up from the doorway, keeping watch in the one on the left and scanning the whole room, paying particular attention to the doorway across from her. “I hope they'll be here soon. They might have already been here if James didn't live so far from town.”

“Oh, are you blaming this on me? Are you saying this is my fault?” Bucky shoots a glare towards Wanda. The tension between the two of them was always thick, but right now you think even a knife wouldn’t be able to cut through it.

“If the shoe fits.”

“Listen here, you–”

“Watch your tone.” Wanda's accent slips out and your eyes flit over towards her.

“Please don't fight, it won't make things better.” Your voice is quiet, scared, as you speak. You stand close to Bucky, arms wrapped around your torso. You're shaking slightly, the image of both Peter and Steve making you nauseous. You hadn’t expected to see him when you walked out the front door, and the image was enough to have you running back into the house.

Bucky grunts in response and Wanda doesn't say anything, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and looking towards the other entrance of the room you were all in again.

Perhaps she should have been paying more attention to what's behind her, though, because the masked stranger is suddenly right there. Your eyes widen and you don't have time to warn her before she shrieks as they force her hands behind her back and press a knife against her throat. It's a bit of a struggle, but the masked assailant is clearly strong as they manhandle Wanda into the room.

“Wanda!”

“Fuck!”

“Man, fuck this!”

You, Bucky, and Sam all stand alarmed near the center of the room, looking with widened eyes at the scene in front of you. A beat of silence passes, all that can be heard is labored breathing. And then the knife falls from her throat and Wanda starts to laugh, bent over from the force of it. “Oh, you should have seen your faces!” She laughs like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to her before she stops abruptly and stands up, a gun suddenly in her hand, pointed straight towards you. “Come here.” Her accent is back now, the fake American one dropped.

“W-Wanda, I don’t… what’s going on?” You sniffle, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“W-Wanda,” she mocks, faux pout on her lips, “Come here.”

“Don’t listen to her. Stay right behind me.” Bucky steps in front of you, shielding you with his body.

“What a gentleman.” Wanda sneers, gun steadily pointed at Bucky’s chest now.

“Wanda, sweetheart, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Natasha speaks up, taking the now bloody hockey mask off and revealing herself. It had been so hard for her to keep her comments to herself and remain a mystery this whole time. Usually it wouldn’t be, but today was just so exciting. And it was personal.

Oh, she had been the one to give Wanda the handgun.

“Now what the fuck?” Sam makes the mistake of making himself known again and Wanda rolls her eyes, turning and aiming the gun at him instead. “Oh, shut up.” She pulls the trigger and a bullet goes straight through the man’s skull, blood splattering onto the floor and the wall behind him. He drops to the floor with a thud.

“Jesus Christ! You’re both fucking insane!” Bucky takes a glance towards Sam’s body on the floor, feeling bile rise up in his throat.

“Buck, I-I’m scared.” You whimper, and he pulls your body against his, hoping to bring you some comfort by running his fingers through your hair. This is not something he ever thought before, but maybe he should have listened to you when you said this was a bad idea.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her head jerking involuntarily at the sight, like she’d just seen something horrible. “I won’t ask again. Come. Here.” The gun is pointed at you again and her hand shakes slightly. Her eyes flash and you look up at Bucky, afraid she might actually shoot you. “Buck, I-I maybe I should go over. T-To calm her down… I don’t want her to hurt you.”

You sniffle again and he takes five seconds before giving a small nod. “It’ll be okay, baby. They won’t get away with this, I promise, I won’t let them.” He says in a way that he hopes is comforting to you. You hesitate before pulling away from him and slowly walking over to Wanda.

“Hi, Wands,” you smile up at her sweetly, “did I do good?”

“You would have done better if you didn’t let him put his hands on you like that,” she spits. You pout up at her and she softens slightly, leaning down to kiss you. She knows you were only playing a role, but that didn’t make it better, “you did great, baby.”

“What the fuck is going on!”

You spin around, eyes wild, no longer hiding anything now that the charade has been dropped, angry that your moments with Wanda are still being interrupted. “Will you shut the fuck up for five fucking seconds?! We are trying to have a conversation here.”

Bucky, poor guy, looks the most shocked you’ve ever seen him. He never would have seen this coming, he never could have. This wasn’t like you, you were sweet and quiet and would never speak to him like that. You couldn’t possibly have anything to do with this, not voluntarily. The way you were acting wasn’t making any sense.

“Baby… Come on, this isn’t like you. Whatever they said to you, whatever they did to you, you can tell me. I can help, I’ll get you out of this, you don’t have to worry.” He chooses almost the exact wrong thing to say, and you grab the gun from Wanda, pointing it towards him. Wanda and Natasha look toward each other, this wasn’t part of the plan. Not exactly, anyway.

"Oh, you can help me?! You'll help me!" You think of these past couple of months, years really, that you’ve spent with Bucky, stuck with Bucky. You did it to yourself upon the request of Natasha, but that doesn’t make it any better. You're practically hysterical at this point, waving the gun in your hand around with your finger on the trigger, "because you're a big strong military man, you can help me! Oh, and I bet you’ll save me too!" You're laughing now, shaking as adrenaline pumps through your veins. "That's what I am to you, isn't it? Proof of your ability as a man to save a woman? Your little trophy to prove that you're a good guy." You point the gun steadily at Bucky now, looking him directly in the eyes, "unfortunately for you, I've never been yours to save."

The thing about your and Bucky’s relationship is that it was never built on anything good. It would have been better, for him mostly, but the both of you, if you had just stayed friends like you wanted to, but he just kept pushing. He loves you, don’t you love him too? He knows you do, he can tell. He’s loved you since middle school and he’s never found the right time to tell you, but now that you’re both starting university, he couldn’t take the chance that you’d find someone else. (Unfortunately for him, you already had. The extra 10 years of friendship Bucky had, had nothing on the connection you had with Wanda and Natasha).

Bucky watched you grow up, watched you turn to him when your parents fought, watched you take your father’s mistreatment of you and your mother, and watched your little fear of abandonment grow when your father up and left one night. Watched the way you hoped he wouldn’t leave too, took advantage of it, really. And you watched him, watched the cracks in his nice guy persona get bigger, watched as they became canyons when you wedged yourself into them, watched as he hoped, God he hoped that you were your mother’s daughter.

And Wanda and Natasha watched you both, content to keep your relationship a secret as you explored the ways in which you could exploit Bucky, expose his true colors. They didn’t do very much pushing on your part, they wanted you to be free to make your own decisions. They may be in charge, but this was your idea, they just gave it the green light. Well, Wanda may have planted a few seeds, but that’s what she does. You were free to ignore them if you wanted, but she knew you didn’t. She knew you’d make her plans blossom.

The switch from hysterics to calm and collected has your boyfriend's head spinning. He doesn't know what part of this is real and what isn't, still half hoping this is some sick prank. Because this isn't like you, it's just not. The first time Bucky had ever shown you one of his guns, you were like a deer in headlights. You'd refused to even touch it, scared of such a weapon, a monster of human creation, you'd called it. That's who his girlfriend was, not this person standing in front of him. This mad woman, this crazy bitch. So this had to be fake, it had to be a prank.

It's not, of course, because what Bucky doesn't understand is that nothing with him had ever been anything but fake. What Bucky doesn't understand is that even though he's your boyfriend, you've never been his girlfriend, you've been Natasha and Wanda's. You've always been Natasha and Wanda's.

Natasha comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek, "go on, pretty girl, you can do it," she whispers encouragingly. This may not be a part of the original plan, but the sooner they get this done, the sooner she can take you back to her and Wanda’s apartment. And the sooner Wanda can stop obsessing over this. "Remember how he treated you. Remember how we treat you."

“Be a good girl, we’re so close.” Wanda’s voice hits your ears and it’s like you can’t help but listen to anything she says. You take the shot without a second thought, the bullet going straight through Bucky’s chest as your own chest heaves, your breathing slightly labored. You’re still holding the gun towards him as his eyes widen and he drops to the ground, touching the wound like he can’t believe what just happened. He chokes slightly, coughing, as blood starts to spill past his lips and you shut your eyes. If only he hadn’t turned into such a rotten guy, he would have survived.

You feel Wanda’s soft hand slide up the length of your arm as she slots herself behind you now, Natasha going to check around the house to make sure no one has miraculously survived being slain. A smile graces the Sokovian’s lips and she envelopes your hand in her own, gently transferring the gun into her own grip instead, letting your arm drop to your side before lowering the weapon and tucking it into her back pocket, “you did such a good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice is so sweet and loving that your bottom lip trembles involuntarily.

You love Natasha, but Wanda has always had an affect on you, and you know that if the Russian had said the same thing instead, you wouldn’t react this same way. The overwhelming feelings that loomed over tonight come back in full force as you let out the first sob. “Oh, sweet girl,” Wanda coos, turning you in her arms and bringing you against her, holding you tight, “such a big night for you, huh? But you know that what you’ve done is for the greater good, right? You know that, don’t you?”

You nod and she kisses the top of your head. “B-But Tasha came early, and I didn’t know that Katie– I thought– Tasha was too early, and I couldn’t tell if–” You can’t get your thoughts together anymore, your mind racing with everything that’s been going through your head since the beginning of the night. The fear for Kate, the confusion when Natasha showed up before 10:02pm, the very specific time she was supposed to, the way Wanda had looked just as confused as you had.

“Oh no, did she scare you?” Wanda laughs lightly, endeared and a little amused, “I’ll have to give Tasha a little talking to. She was a little early, huh?” She smooths her hand along your hair, petting you, “don’t worry about Katie, darling, she’s just fine. You know how Yelena would react if she wasn’t.”

“I-I know, but–”

“Shhh, I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, you didn’t know. Now, why don’t you give me a kiss, hm? Don’t I deserve a thank you?”

A ‘thank you’ for what, you didn’t know, but Wanda clearly thought she was deserving of one and who were you to question her? You lean up to give her a kiss, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as she grips your waist. You sigh against her lips, feeling yourself relax a little just from the comfort any amount of affection from Wanda gives you.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re pretending like I don’t exist.” Natasha stands from where she was leaning against the doorframe as she looks at you and Wanda, “do you have any idea how long I was standing there?” It had only been long enough to catch Wanda’s ‘don’t I deserve a thank you?’ and watch the two of you kiss, but still.

You pull away from Wanda and huff, your tears now forgotten, “I’m mad at you!” You glare at Natasha and she raises an eyebrow, walking towards you now, “mad at me, зайка?” She furrows her eyebrows slightly, as if she’s confused, and there’s an annoyingly attractive little smirk on her lips as she gets closer.

She grabs your hips and pulls you away from Wanda and the Sokovian would usually protest against the Russian’s audacity to steal her girl away, but she’s content to watch the two of you bicker for a few minutes. Natasha pulls you against her, “now what did I do to deserve that?” She squeezes your hips softly, looking down at you. “You were early!” You push against her chest before resting your hands there, playing with the fabric of her sweatshirt, “we had a plan!”

“Well, we didn’t exactly stick to the plan anyway, did we, baby? Huh? I don’t think the past 15 minutes were part of the plan. How about you, Wands?” Natasha turns her head slightly and makes eye contact with her girlfriend, to which the strawberry blonde just rolls her eyes, “this is not my problem. She’s not mad at me.”

“We might have if you showed up on time! You scared me, you asshole!”

Natasha is perfectly happy to humor when you’re ‘mad’ at her and even when you play fight against her or hit her, but she is not happy to hear you speak to her like that. Her movement is swift as she reaches up to grab your jaw, her grip harsh as her fingertips dig into your cheeks, “watch your tone and your language, yeah?”

You whine quietly, nodding. Natasha hums, releasing your jaw in favor of patting your cheek, “good girl. Now, why don’t you tell me properly why you’re ‘mad’ at me?” Her next actions contradict her words as she slips her hands underneath your shirt, sliding her palms up your stomach and then back down again.

“You were…” you trail off, distracted by Natasha's hands on you. She slides her hands back up and gropes your covered breasts, “I was?” There’s a smug look on her face as she looks down at you, pleased with how easily she can distract you. “You were early and… and you scared me, I didn’t know it was you.”

“My sincerest apologies, princess,” Natasha slides her hands back down and grabs your waist, squeezing roughly, and then she grins, “I didn’t realize you were so easily scared.” You’re about to curse her out, but she leans down to capture your lips in a kiss before you get the chance. The kiss is sloppy and rough as your hands grip her sweatshirt, tugging her as close as possible.

Wanda, never one to like being left out, takes her place behind you, sandwiching you between her and Natasha. Her hands slip under your shirt and replace where Natasha’s used to be, cupping your breasts and groping them softly, “let us make it up to you, ангел.”

The sound of Wanda’s soft voice in your ear relaxes you in their arms and you make a noise of agreeance against Natasha’s lips. “My poor little angel,” Wanda murmurs, “my divine little lamb. You didn’t deserve to be scared like that, did you?” Wanda’s questions are almost always rhetorical and you’re glad for that right now.

One of Natasha’s hands moves from your waist to unbutton your jeans and then slides into your panties. You grip her sweater tighter to try and urge her to move her hand further down, but she leaves it splayed just above your cunt. She pulls away from your lips, the both of you panting as you catch your breath, a string of spit connecting your lips and then dripping down.

“Say please, зайка. Just because I’ve upset you doesn’t mean you lose your manners, does it?”

“Please, Tasha. Please touch me.”

“Tell me thank you for what I did today.” She’s trying to stay in control of herself, but you can tell from her labored breathing and the flush of her neck that you’ve affected her.

“I’m so happy you freed me, Tasha. Thank you. I’m so grateful I can be yours forever now. Thank you, thank you.”

Natasha surges forward and crashes her lips against yours, a moan escaping your lips at the contact. Wanda hums in approval and it lights a fire in both yours and Natasha’s stomachs. You both know, this time, Wanda is only here to watch over the two of you, and to know what you’re doing has her approval means more to the both of you than anything you’ve ever done.

Natasha swallows your gasp when you feel her fingers beginning to rub at your clit, slow circles that work you up at just the right pace. Wanda places small kisses on your neck as Natasha works, groping and squeezing at your breasts as she does. She knows she’ll have you to herself later while Natasha works on cleaning up today’s mess, so she’s content in watching her prized possession feel good.

When Natasha moves her hand further down and sinks two fingers into your cunt, you pull away from her lips and let out a little whimper. Usually, she’d work you up, but she knew the three of you shouldn’t linger in the house longer than necessary. “Shhh, that’s it baby, you can take it.” She lets you bury your face against her chest as she pumps her fingers in and out, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit.

“There you go, that’s a good girl.” Natasha coos. She’s being uncharacteristically gentle and you think it’s because Wanda is watching or maybe she really does feel bad for scaring you like she did. She holds you tight against her as she leans over you to kiss Wanda. You feel your knees get weak when you realize what’s happening and you clench around Natasha’s fingers.

They both pay you no mind except for the fact that Natasha’s skilled fingers are still working against your cunt. She curls them just right and you bite down on her collarbone. She gasps and pulls away from Wanda’s lips, her other hand gripping your waist tighter, her blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving little crescent marks.

“Forgot our little зайка was a biter.” She grunts.

It’s not long before Natasha’s fingers work you up and push you over the edge, cumming with both her and Wanda’s permission. When Natasha pulls her fingers out you let out a little whine, sensitive from cumming. “Open up, pretty girl.” She brings her fingers up to your lips and you let her push them inside, cleaning your cum from her fingers, your cheeks hot at the action.

Natasha pulls away from you and pushes you to your knees, your shaky legs doing very little to hold you up anyway. Wanda’s fingertips drag across your cheek as she moves in front of you, standing next to Natasha. “What do you say, маленький ангел?” Wanda speaks as she uses her middle and ring finger to tilt your chin up.

You peer up at them, adoration swimming in your eyes, “Thank you Mommy. Thank you Tasha.”

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch smut

831 notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 11 months

Note

Hi! We’re Queer Liberation Library, aka QLL (”quill”), and we’re building a digital library of LGBTQIA+ literature and resources that will be accessible throughout the US—book bans be damned.

We’re big fans of yours and hope the feeling might be mutual! The next step in our library-building journey is, of course, raising some money to open our digital doors. From now through July 7th we’re trying to break the internet to hit our fundraising goal of $15,000 (or more! the more we raise the more queer and trans books we can purchase) and were hoping you might be willing to check us out/reblog etc! We’re a 501(c)3 non-profit, so all donations are tax deductible.

You can find us on our new & improved website, as well as @queerliblib on other social media.

Thank you so much for reading and HAPPY PRIDE!

Good luck!

1K notes · View notes

halucynator · 9 months

Note

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle angst #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez

824 notes · View notes

bellaxisworld · 1 month

Text

april 12, @jegulus-microfic prompt: amortentia. word count: 682.

The iridescent sheen of the potion enchants Regulus; he could stare at the lovely pinkish-pearled swirls for hours, dazed and happy to be smelling the things he loves the most. He smiles down at the cauldron, reminded of his happiest memories, reminded of every good thing that makes life worth living.

He leans forward to inhale, eyes blissfully falling shut. Today is one of his favorite Potions days—they finally brewed Amortentia. He’s an excellent potioneer, and he’s waited years for the day they brew it in class. Regulus sighs, content, and catalogs each distinct smell and their origin.

(1) He smells lavender and roses. This one isn’t hard to decode—Pandora smells like lavender, and she leaves pink rose petals in his bags and pockets when she senses he needs good luck.

(2) The next smell is far more sugary and rather… artificial in nature. Peach candies, he realizes. His chest warms, reminded of summersweet memories with Sirius, sneaking to Hogsmeade to steal candies together and scurrying home, tripping over gangly feet and laughing too loudly for the still night. Midnights spent huddled together under too-hot covers, quiet giggles and sticky hands grabbing for the pile of sweets between them. Peach candies were always Sirius’ favorite.

(3) Next he smells grass and wind, which he is not surprised to find, and likely derives from his love for Quidditch. No, his love for flying. Regulus feels most at peace when flying, whipping around the air with precision and skill. He feels free, when flying.

This next part is where he gets confused.

Regulus Black finds himself squinting at the cauldron, begging it to tell him its secrets. It’s rather mysterious, he thinks, a potion that can tell you everything you love. He folds his arms over his chest, huffing quietly.

(4) Regulus smells apples.

He smells… apples? He’s not familiar with apples, you see, so he cannot distinguish what kind of apple he smells. But there is a distinct apple smell wafting from his cauldron, and he leans back, blinking down in concern.

An important thing to note—Regulus Black hates apples.

At least, he hates eating apples. He won’t eat apple pie, or apple sauce, or apple juice or artificial apple flavors—he dislikes the taste and texture of them. The smell of apples isn’t too overpowering, so he isn’t too far bothered in that sense, but to find apples in his Amortentia perplexes him more than anything.

He thinks again, quill tapping against his notebook beside the cauldron. The Amortentia told him he loves Pandora, Sirius, flying, and… he doesn’t know what the apples could possibly signify. Apples. Apples. Apples.

The apples have stumped him.

Regulus thinks about apples for the rest of the day. He thinks about apples and fruits and any correlation, and he thinks why, why apples?

He’s walking with his friends to the dungeons later that evening when it hits him square in the face like a bag of bricks. He almost trips over his own feet, barely holding himself properly upright.

“No. No, no, no, no—it can’t possibly be. No, I refuse.” He shakes his head violently, stomach lurching and eyes watering. He sprints all the way to his dorm room bathroom, locking himself tightly within and avoiding the worried shouts of his friends.

He recalls the memory, crystal-clear now. He recalls the distinct smell of apples. He recalls the playful smiles and loud, booming laugh of the boy beside him.

He recalls the apples. The apples. The apples.

He recalls the apples, because Regulus Black was sitting under an apple tree with James Potter the first time he thought, James is the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. That day was the first time he got butterflies, his belly in an uproar over the proximity of a boy like James, a boy with a smile brighter than every star in the sky. That day, Regulus looked at James and realized he wanted to know what it felt like to fall.

He takes out his Potions notebook, scribbling furiously:

Pandora, Sirius, flying, and… James Potter.

part of a collection of microfics on ao3(2/?): in every life, my heart finds yours.

153 notes · View notes

lilacmingi · 3 months

Text

POLYJUICE POTION

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Ravenclaw!Hongjoong x Ravenclaw!fem reader

Word count: 2,800

Note: These Hogwarts imagines are from my Wattpad from 2022, so keep in mind that there will not be any continuations or extra parts. Imagines for the other members will be posted in the following weeks!

"Man, I didn't study." San dropped his head onto the dining hall table with a soft thump.

"Again." Hongjoong added, causing the Slytherin to pout in response.

You chuckled, watching the two.

"You never study, San." Hongjoong pointed out.

"He's right." You added.

"I do sometimes." San argued.

"Not this time."

San frowned. "What am I gonna do? I have a herbology test in fifteen minutes and my grades are horrible."

"Cram, I guess." Hongjoong shrugged.

"You know, some people do better when they cram last minute." You supplied, trying to cheer your close friend up a little.

"I'm doomed either way." The Slytherin dropped his head in defeat.

"Don't be like that." Hongjoong told him.

"Hongjoong is right. If you think about it, a little studying is better than no studying at all."

"She has a point." Your fellow Ravenclaw agreed.

"Well, I'd love to stay here and see where this goes, but I have a transfiguration class to get to. Good luck, San."

"Yeah." He grumbled discouragingly.

"See you after potions, Hongjoong." You waved, walking off to class.

You were actually hoping to talk to San without Hongjoong around, but seeing as your poor Slytherin friend was in a predicament, and not alone, you chose to wait and chat later.

Once you left the dining hall, San continued to mope, muttering to himself about how he was going to totally fail.

"Wait. I got it!" San lifted his head, his eyes brightening as an idea popped into his mind. "You have a free period, right Hongjoong?"

"Yes."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"That depends."

"Can you use a Polyjuice potion and take my herbology test for me?"

Hongjoong's eyes widened at the absurd idea.

"You want me to pretend to be you?"

San nodded vigorously with hopeful eyes.

"No way." The Ravenclaw shook his head.

"Please?"

"No. Do you know how hard it'll be to get it done in time?"

"I have everything." He quickly supplied.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes in speculation.

San clasped his hands together, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout as he begged the older wizard. "Hongjoong, please. Just this once and I'll never ever ask again."

"What do I get in return?" He quirked a brow, his arms crossed expectantly over his chest.

"I'll buy you whatever you want from Honeydukes."

"Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want."

"Alright. Deal."

San and Hongjoong left the dining hall and made their way down the long corridors of the school, the younger Hogwarts student practically vibrating with excitement. He—Hongjoong was totally going to ace this test for him. He swears he'll study next time, promising himself to make an attempt to do better with his academic work.

"Just let me go into my dormitory and get the stuff. I'll be out before you can say Honeydukes."

Hongjoong hated how chipper San was about this situation. He just gets to hide out while Hongjoong does the dirty work. It hardly seems fair. At least he would be getting sweets out of this deal. Hongjoong smiled at the thought, practically tasting the Cauldron Cake and Fizzing Whizbees.

San returned with a small burlap bag clutched in his hand and a small cauldron hidden under his robes, gesturing for the two to make their way to the bathrooms. Maneuvering around the many students lingering in the hallway, San and Hongjoong snuck off to the boys restrooms to prepare the potion.

"You know once finals roll around you can't cheat, right? They charm the writing quills and parchment." Hongjoong mentioned as he dropped in a small cluster of knotgrass, watching it melt into the thick liquid inside the cauldron.

"I know, I know." San muttered, playing with a loose string on his robes.

The oldest stirred the substance that began to slowly bubble and thicken, tossing in the last few ingredients.

"Ugh. That smells awful." San commented as he pinched his nose.

"You're not the one that has to drink it." Hongjoong pointed out bitterly. "Now come here."

San moved closer to the Ravenclaw who grabbed a strand of his hair, yanking it from his head.

"Ouch!" He whimpered, rubbing his scalp.

"Payback." Hongjoong commented, dropping the wisp into the roiling substance.

Plucking one measly hair from San's head wasn't nearly the amount of payback he deserved for putting Hongjoong in this situation, but it was enough for the moment. Hongjoong would decide if his younger friend needed further punishment after this situation plays out. If all goes well, then all San lost was a strand of hair.

"You're doing me a huge favor." San told his friend, noticing the bitter expression etched on his face. "I promise I'll study more."

"You'd better." Muttered Hongjoong as he stared at the icky substance in the ladle, his stomach churning in response. "Remember, you owe me." He reminded the Slytherin.

"Of course." San nodded.

And with that, Hongjoong downed the mixture, cringing immediately at the taste. He then started coughing, feeling the potion take effect.

After a few agonizing moments, he stumbled over to the bathroom mirror to see if the concoction worked the way it was supposed to. Polyjuice potions can sometimes go awry if you don't pay attention to what you're putting in it.

"Heyyy, you look handsome." San grinned at Hongjoong's reflection, which now showed an exact replica of the dark-haired and dimpled wizard.

Hongjoong glared at San through the mirror, clearly unamused by his antics. His cheeky grin fell from his face. It was only then that he realized how much time was left for Hongjoong to get to class.

"You have to hurry. You've got less than five minutes." He shoved a small satchel into the Ravenclaw's chest. "Here's all my stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." Hongjoong waved San off, hurrying out of the bathroom.

The Ravenclaw disguised as a Slytherin grumbled to himself, suddenly regretting doing this "favor" for his friend.

It's completely foolish.

Why did he let himself be swayed by sweets?

Stepping into San's herbology class, Hongjoong moved towards a seat near the back of the room. This wasn't his first time using a Polyjuice potion. He had done so for practice in potions class a year prior, but he had never used it for real life circumstances such as this one. What if someone tried to talk to him? He would have to pretend to be San. What would San even say? Probably something stupid.

Please don't let anyone try and talk to me.

He wished you were there. You'd help calm him down and tell him everything would be okay. No. You would have turned the whole idea down in an instant. If San had brought up this half-baked idea moments earlier while you were still in the dining hall, you would have shut him down.

"No way is Hongjoong going to do that. San, you're my friend, but you've gotta tough this one out. Plus, it's just one test."

That's what he imagined you would say.

"Alright class, get your quills and parchment ready. The quiz is about to start."

Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, Hongjoong retrieved the items from San's satchel and began the test.

An hour and a half later, class had ended, the rather stressed Ravenclaw feeling like he could breathe a sigh of relief. The test wasn't all that difficult. He was a year above San, so he remembered some of the material from when he had taken herbology his sixth year. At the very least, he got San a high B, which was probably much better than the forgetful Slytherin could have done.

Hongjoong stepped out of the classroom, planning to make a beeline for the bathrooms before the potion wore off. He zipped past students, weaving his way through the flurry of witches and wizards. When the sign for the boys' bathroom was in his line of sight, he picked up his pace, wanting to get there quickly. Until...

"San!"

You had just gotten out of your potions class that let out a little early for the day. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair hurrying down the hall, you called out to him, finally having found the opportunity to speak to San alone.

"There you are." You ran over to him.

"Hey, Y/n." He greeted with a smile, seeming a little off.

"How'd your test go?"

"I think I did alright." He responded.

"That's good to hear. Cramming works sometimes." You gave him a light slap on the back. "Listen, I really wanted to talk to you earlier, but Hongjoong was around so I couldn't. Do you have time?"

This caught his attention.

Something you couldn't say around him? Was there something you and San knew that he didn't?

"Of course. What is it?"

He could see you were a bit nervous, maybe even a little hesitant, but waited for you to speak.

"I'm finally gonna confess to him."

"San's" eyes widened upon hearing that as it clicked into place instantly.

"To Hongjoong?" He questioned, just to make things a bit clearer.

"Yes, to Hongjoong. Why do you seem so surprised? You know I've been crushing on him for two years."

"Two—" He paused, clearing his throat in an attempt to gather himself. "Y-Yeah. Of course."

Your face fell a bit in realization.

"Oh. You're not surprised... you think it's a bad idea. Don't you?"

"No!" He spoke up abruptly, being a bit louder than he intended. "I mean... I think you should go for it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

You chuckled. "You're a bit enthusiastic about it. It's almost like you know he'll say yes or something." Your expression was then replaced with horror. "You didn't say anything to him, did you?"

"No. I didn't. I just have a feeling that he probably feels the same as you. I'm a guy. We know these things about each other."

He cringed internally at that last part, but it seemed like something San would say, so he went with it.

"Ah." You nodded, taking in deep breath. "Okay. Well, if you see Hongjoong, could you tell him to meet me at the Marble Staircase Tower on the top floor, you know, the one that overlooks the Quad?"

"Yes! I'll be sure to tell him."

"Thank you. I'm so nervous."

"You'll do f—" Hongjoong had reached a hand out to place on you shoulder, pausing when he saw his polished pinkie.

The potion was beginning to wear off. He needed to get out of there fast.

Noticing the expression on "San's" face, you spoke up, asking if he was alright.

"I'm fine! Good luck with Hongjoong. I have to go."

You didn't have time to reply as San hurried off, bumping into people as he headed down the corridor.

"Choi San!" Hongjoong shouted, storming into the bathroom.

The wizard in question jumped in response to his name being called so loudly. Stepping out from a stall, he was met with Hongjoong, who seemed to have already returned to normal.

"Ah. You're done. How did it—" He couldn't even finish his sentence for Hongjoong blowing up.

"Y/n has had a crush on me for two years and you didn't say anything?" He exploded.

San's eyes became wide before he tilted his head in confusion.

"How did you know?"

"She stopped me in the hallway to tell me she was finally going to confess. She thought I was you."

San's mouth formed an O shape as he realized the cat had been let out of the bag.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything." Hongjoong went on.

"I promised her I wouldn't. How would you feel if someone told your crush you liked them and they didn't feel the same?"

"San, that's the issue. I like her."

The Slytherin's eyes widened in surprise.

"How was I supposed to know?"

Hongjoong sighed, realizing he had no reason to be upset. "You weren't, because I never said anything."

"Well, she said she was going to confess to you. Did she tell you anything else?" San asked.

"She wants me to meet her at the Marble Staircase Tower."

The Slytherin's jaw dropped.

"Then, what are you doing standing here? You have to go meet her." He rushed.

"But... what would I say?"

"Just act casual. Think about it as if you don't know why she wants to meet with you."

"But I do know why she wants to meet with me."

"Pretend you don't." With one, final shove, San pushed Hongjoong out of the bathroom. "Now, go get your girl, loverboy!"

"San!" He whisper yelled.

"Go! Go!"

Hongjoong sighed and started down the corridor, heading in the direction of the Marble Staircase Tower, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

By the time he arrived at the bottom of the tower steps, he was out of breath, but his determination overpowered his exhaustion as he continued on. He hurried up the stairs, sometimes skipping one in an attempt to reach the top faster.

The opening for the highest floor came into view and as Hongjoong reached the top, he spotted you waiting for him, fiddling anxiously with the sleeves of your robe. His heart fluttered nervously as he approached you.

"Y/n?"

You turned, your face lighting up at the sight of him. He wouldn't have noticed this had he not known your feelings for him.

"Hongjoong. You made it."

"Of course I did. What did you want to see me for?"

He could see the way your shoulders raised as you took in a deep breath in preparation for what you were about to say.

"There's something important I want to say to you before I chicken out." Your eyes met his, as if to get confirmation to continue.

"Yes. Anything. Tell me anything." He nodded, his round eyes watching you with anticipation, waiting to hear your confession fall from your pretty lips.

"Hongjoong, I've had a crush on you for two years. I know this is abrupt and you probably don't feel th—"

"I like you too." He cut you off.

"Wh-" You paused. "What?"

"I have a confession too. It wasn't San you talked to in the hallway."

Your expression dropped immediately.

"San asked me to take his test for him and I agreed."

"Polyjuice potion." You muttered under your breath as everything clicked into place.

"Right."

"So, I practically confessed to you right there." It was a question, but it came out as more of a statement.

Hongjoong nodded wordlessly, confirming your fears. But wait... he said he liked you too, did he not? You were too busy being surprised that Hongjoong used a Polyjuice potion to pose as San that you completely glossed over his confession.

"You said you liked me too?" You asked.

"I do. A lot."

He bravely took a step forward, his eyes briefly flicking down to your lips. The feeling of his palm brushing against your cheek as he cupped it made you realize what was about to happen, and you most certainly weren't against it. You watched with bated breath as Hongjoong inched closer to you, the space between your faces diminishing until you could feel his lips ghost against your own. You didn't wait for him to initiate the kiss, instead you leaned forward, being the one to close the sliver of space that was between your mouths.

Hongjoong's eyes fluttered closed at the contact, his hand that cupped your cheek moved to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, needing more of you.

Your body felt like it was on fire, as if someone had cast an incendio spell on you. Your fellow Ravenclaw was feeling very similar, his body rushing with warmth as he held your bodies flush against each other. Your fingers clung to the collar of his robe, tugging in an almost desperate manner as you pressed your mouth closer to his, a blissful sigh escaping you. It didn't take long for things to get heated, the both of you kissing each other with such ferocity that you wondered if anyone could hear you.

As much as he didn't want to, Hongjoong pulled away, both of you huffing breathlessly. You glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, your brain still foggy from such an intense kiss.

"I hate to put a stop to this, but we've got a transfiguration class in seven minutes." He mentioned hoarsely.

You groaned in disappointment, dropping your head onto his shoulder. "I totally forgot."

"We can always continue in the Ravenclaw common room after classes are over."

You lifted your head at that and Hongjoong could see a glam in your eye that made him chuckle.

"We should go." He mentioned, smoothing your hair out. "Don't want to be late."

Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x you #kim hongjoong x y/n #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #ateez scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #hogwarts au #ateez hogwarts au

148 notes · View notes

hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

Omg are you a SAINT??? I’m the one who requested the Theo x ftm Parkinson Reader and it was incredible!!! I love Yanderes ngl because I have….issues…..anyways please bring me a part 2 （╹◡╹）

uh. super dark themes in here? i’m really sorry?

requests open

CLAIRVOYANCE AND TASSEOGRAPHY (Chapter Two of Pansy’s Brother) — yandere! psycho! theodore nott x ftm! sweetheart! parkinson! reader

WARNINGS: abduction/kidnapping, stalking, possessive/obsessive behavior, intense unwarranted jealousy

hey! if you like someone, please don’t stalk and kidnap them! that’s decidedly uncool!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“You going back to your dorm?”

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I need to finish my homework for Trelawney. Going to the library.”

Enzo snickers. “Good luck. ~Clear your mind~,” his voice took on a sing-song quality as he imitated your professor, laughing when you smacked his arm and told him to be nice.

“I like Divination,” you whine. “Trelawney’s nice!”

“Yeah, sure…” he teases, knocking his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes and wave goodbye to him, heading to the library while he turns to go back down to the dungeons.

The hallways are mostly empty, although a few straggling kids make their way through the castle, but a multitude of others must’ve had the same idea as you, because the library is completely full.

You weave your way between a pack of first year Hufflepuffs and a group of zonked-out Gryffindors, dropping your bag down onto the only free table to claim your spot.

Madam Pince, always one beat ahead of everyone else, emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding a simple wood box out for you.

“Y/N, dear. I believe you’re in need of this?” She said wisely with a small smile on her otherwise stern face.

Madam Pince had always quite liked you. You were quiet (unlike your sister and her friends), you always thanked her whenever she helped you (even if it was just bringing you another cup of tea and an interesting book on the Muggle constitutional monarchy), and you once marched down to the library just to give her an entire plate of cookies because I made too many, really Madam, and besides, you deserve a bit of thanks for all the hard work you do.

(She’d later asked the house elves. They informed her that you’d only baked one batch of cookies. She’s had a soft spot for you ever since.)

You thanked her gratefully, taking the wood box and opening it. Inside was one of the library’s loaner crystal balls. A bit scuffed up, but it did the job.

Sitting down at your table, you got to work writing your Divination essay. You weren’t particularly adept at clairvoyance, but as long as you tried (or at least pretended to), Trelawney would leave you alone.

The library grew quiet as groups began intermittently leaving, rubbing tired eyes and yawning as they stumbled their way down the hall. Madam Pince came by with two mugs of tea and and an order to take a break, dear, have a cuppa with me.

You laid down your quill, taking your offered mug with grateful thanks and a tired smile. She pulled a chair up next to you, sipping her own mug.

“I’ve closed the library up for tonight, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. I know, I know. As an educator, I’m not supposed to have favorites but…” she gave you a conspiratorial wink. “Anyway, the only people left in here are Miss Granger, you, and I. Lovely girl, that Granger. But remember, you need to sleep at some point, dear.”

You laughed and nodded, draining the rest of your tea and swirling the leaves around. “I know. I just need to finish this essay.”

Madam Pince gave you a pointed look, glancing down at the three sentences you had written on your otherwise blank twelve inches of parchment and then back up at you.

“Divination is a difficult subject,” she advised. “Take notes, and write your essay later. Although you seem to be doing quite well with tasseography.” She nodded towards your empty mug which you were still swirling around, just as something to do with your hands.

You laugh, finally stopping the cup and peering in. “Oh no, I’m terrible at reading tea leaves. This looks like a… an axe, I think? And… ooh, this looks like a shark. Or maybe a goldfish.”

She snickered, patting your shoulder and standing up, smiling at you before returning to her seemingly endless task of reshelving books.

You spun the cup around once more, finding only a wonky heart and a vaguely knife-shaped bit. The rim of your tea mug held only a weird looking dog.

You brushed off the silly reading and resumed your homework, tapping the crystal ball with your fingernail in frustration.

There wasn’t anything in there.

You sighed in annoyance, setting down your quill with a clack and rubbing the heel of your hands over your eyes. It was starting to get late, and you weren’t getting anywhere. Might as well call it a bust and go back to your dorm.

You huffed out a short breath as you screwed on the lid of your inkwell, stuffing your quill and parchment in your bag with little care.

Turning back to put the crystal ball back in its box, you froze when you saw something.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning closer to get a better look.

Nope.

Nothing.

You sighed again, shaking your head. You could’ve sworn you’d seen something move. But alas, it was still just the same stupid upside-down reflection of the bookshelves in front of you.

You picked up the ball, nestling the stand back inside the satin interior of the box. As you moved the set the sphere down as well, you saw it again.

Movement.

Now you knew you weren’t crazy.

It was a little hard to tell, as whatever was on the other side of the ball would reflect back inverted, but you swore it looked like a person.

You squinted, shifting a bit. The indistinct figure vanished.

You looked up from the ball tentatively, a bit afraid of what might be ahead of you.

Nothing.

“Hermione?” You called softly. Your voice carried in the empty library.

“Upstairs!” Hermione’s distinct voice called back. You glanced up at the small second floor loft, catching a glimpse of bushy hair.

A hand suddenly came down on your shoulder with a vice-like grip.

You startled, a yelp halfway on your lips when another hand covered your mouth. The mystery person leaned down behind you to whisper in your ear.

“Easy. You’re okay.”

You were frozen with fear, the ball slipping out of your hands and falling onto the (thankfully) carpeted floor, where it rolled to a stop some feet away.

“Not a word.” The stranger’s voice hissed, their grip tightening over your mouth, their short nails digging into your skin.

They yanked you out of your chair from behind, leaving all of your things scattered across your desk. The stranger moved their hand from your shoulder to your opposite elbow, their arm across your torso and keeping you from moving as they dragged you down the row. They made a beeline for the library doors, your weak attempts to fight them off not hindering them in the slightest.

As the stranger fumbled to open the door with both of their hands occupied, a familiar voice called out.

“Are you finally leaving, Y/N, dear?” Madam Pince’s called from just around the corner, half-hidden behind a bookshelf.

The stranger’s grip on you tightened even further, to an almost painful degree.

“Answer her.” They hissed again, digging their nails into your cheeks again before slowly moving their hand down to uncover your mouth.

You trembled with fear. “U-uh, yeah. Got some wonderfully mediocre notes down, and I’m exhausted.”

Her laugh drifted through the library. “Alright then, Y/N. Oh! And if Professor Trelawney actually does assign any tasseography homework, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, of course. We can share a cuppa chamomile together.”

“Sounds lovely, dear. Sleep well.”

The rather sweet moment was ruined as the stranger’s hand returned over your mouth and you were bodily dragged out of the library.

~~~

Irma Pince was many things, but she was not stupid.

Once hated by the students of Hogwarts, now one of the most beloved staff members, she was an integral part of the school. Since allowing for more freedom in the library—which now drew more regulars and first years who were no longer afraid of her—plus with the addition of befriending some of the more polite students, she no longer was the sour, unpleasant woman she’d once been.

She was knowledgeable in virtually every subject—she knew who needed to return what books by when, who the Muggle prime minister in 1857 was, what dittany is, and how fireworks worked, they’re really quite simple, Mr. and Mr. Weasley. Point being, she knew just about everything about anything.

She also knew for a fact that Y/N Parkinson hated chamomile tea.

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #yandere theodore nott #theo nott #trans reader

170 notes · View notes