#fluff fic

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Tom stepped into the final shop, Olivander's Wand shop, he sneezed, dust falling over his face as a stray spell hit the shelves above him and made wand boxes and dust fly.

“Sorry!” a squeal came from ahead, and Tom squinted open his eyes to see a girl, who looked to be around his age, eyes wide as she held a wand—which was quickly taken back by Olivander(Tom could only assume that’s who he was.)

“Definitely not that one,” Olivander said quietly as the girl pouted. Tom sneezed again and when he looked up—the girl was offering an apologetic smile and a handkerchief.

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DAMN thas a good question, and now my brain is refusing to come up with anything. hmmmm.

you know i'd really enjoy a sort've like--Tom gets turned into a kid fic(which i do wanna write for myself as well but if someone ELSE wrote it i would still write my own but also adore whatever they wrote, lol) like either by an aging potion explosion or a dark immortality ritual that he fucked up and gets *poofed* into a kid, no memories or anything, just actual kid Tom, like TODDLER age im talking baby boy, so wittle and still hoping for love.

in my head its always started with him and his knights, fucking around, and then they're messing around and it goes poof! baby tom in a pile of clothes! they knights start arguing and baby Tom runs off because scary teenagers, and ends up running into sweet hufflepuff (y/n) who he instantly latches onto because kids always latch onto *someone*, and she ends up taking care of him for like two weeks while an antidote is made. with so many toddler Tom shenanigans and him being stinkin cute and wearing itty bitty clothes the house elves have to whip up.

would you mind writing a friends to lovers with désiré doué? either a one shot or a series, as you prefer but maybe she could be his brother's best friend (or one of his team mates' really) so she's always been around and they know each other very well but she never thought of him as more than a friend untim smth happens

ty sooooo much, i love your writing you're so good

✮ Doucémente - Désiré Doue

désiré doue x fem!reader

sy: you’ve known désiré for years. he’s your brother’s best friend, your best friend, and someone you’ve never once looked at differently. until suddenly, you do.

a/n: i think i read this completely wrong, i think my english is actually regressing, but i hope this was okay!

warnings: no.

you think you’ll always see désiré as a brother.

i mean, sure, he’s got it all. and everyone around you always ask how you manage to restrain yourself from absolutely drooling over him when he’s near. but, you always have the same answer.

he’s your boy.

not boyfriend.

like everybody seems to assume. especially, your biological brother, bradley. he’s like a self appointed, and unwanted, matchmaker when it comes to désiré and his little sister.

“désiré’s coming over soon,” brad says, hopping across the lounge whilst trying to slide his right sock on. “so, get ready.”

you snort. “excuse me?”

bradley falls back onto the nearest chair, still struggling to slide his sock on. he flits you a look. “i’m sure you’re not deaf amoungst all the other problems you have. get ready.”

that draws you away from the magazine you were once reading. “one, i don’t have any issues—you took one for the team,” you scoff, “and two, what’s wrong with how i look?”

its partially rhetorical. because, genuinely, what is wrong? you’re wearing a light grey shirt with the spiderman promo that compliments your matching joggers and your hair is pulled up into a simple pony.

bradley finally gets his sock on; now he turns to sit upright. “one, you’re wrong… i’m perfectly healthy. and two, you’re dressed like a seven year old boy, who’s just discovered marvel comics, and, when you have your hair like that, it shows your receding hairline.”

you grit your teeth, arm high with the magazine you’re about to waltz at him. “why you little—”

ding dong.

“my boys’ here!”

you freeze your arm mid-air.

as if it had been orchestrated solely to spare his physical battering, your brother finds the doorbell an escape route to flee as he jolts to the front door like his life depends on it.

between one breath and the next, the door flings open with force and hammers the wall behind. and you spot him, a smile blooming your expression.

désiré doue.

he looks just as charming as ever. the kind of facile charm that seems to come naturally to him, probably why everyone always questions how you keep your calm demeanour around him. from the way his hair falls untidily into place to the comfort that never quite leaves his expression. his features are familiar, but it’s almost like the feeling attached to them is unfamiliar. the curve of his smile, the tenderness in his eyes, the infectiousness of his laughs.

“yo!” brad hollers, bumping into his chest—the things guys do that you will never understand.

“i’ve missed you man!”

your brother waddles further into the lounge, welcoming désiré in, causing you rise up from the sofa as he makes his way over to you.

“heeey, you,” désiré offers a hug, and you pat him sweetly back. “how’ve you been?”

“yeah, all good,” you wave a hand, rolling back on the heels of your feet. “apart from y’know.. brad.”

“i am here,” bradley states matter-of-factly, whilst the both of you chuckle quietly together. brad staggers back from whatever he was disturbing with at the tv stand, with three controllers and a cd disk for a game under his armpit.

“i figured we could all play this new game that i bought the other day,” he suggests, shoving a controller into his bestfriends hands and tries to you too. “it’s got really good reviews.”

you recieve it reluctantly. désiré is quick to agree, snatching the cover and scanning the back of it. “i’m not really in a game mood,” you hand the controller back.

“what!” you turn to drift apart but your brother grabs your shoulder and spins you. “it’s a tradition to play a video game when doue comes over!”

its almost as if he’s guilt tripping you.

you sigh, looking between the pair of guys. désiré takes most of your attention, as he stands besides your brother, almost sheepish. his hands are at his sides, his fingers tapping the air rhythmically. your eyes trace along the veins in his arms, then along the width of his shoulders, to his neck, then back to his biceps, in which they were stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt far more than you remember.

since when did he have such nice arms?

“ahem,” your brother clears his throat. “so is that a yes?”

you tear your gaze away from désiré, blinking as you give your head a rough shake. “er—no, no. i’ll just be in my room.”

out of pure abashment, you lower your head when you hasten past them both, beelining your way to your room.

how humiliating was that?

your cheeks feel red hot, and so does the rest of your body. oh my god. when you reach your room, you dive head first for your pillow, resisting the urge to scream.

désiré, he’s nothing but a second brother to you. why the heck did he not feel like one just now?

had he grown the last time you saw him—two months ago? had he started working out more? had he started looking after his appearance—like using cologne n mints?

your thoughts are intersected when a loud bang hits your door, and both boys come flying into your room. “hey, sis, c’mon now, we know you really wanna play.”

“no, i do not,” you twist away from your brother whose now perched right next to you. “i’m busy.”

he snickers. “doing what?”

your back is to them both, and you twindle a loose string from your pillowcase through your fingers. “i—taking a nap.”

“a nap my ass,” bradley squeezes your leg, and to that you merely sit upright. “c’mon, wakey, wakey.”

“no.. look i, really, don’t wanna play—”

“check out this new game doue bought!”

there’s no fight in you left when troy pushes a cd into your console (that you thought you’d hidden away pretty nicely, to prevent, things like this occurring) and the tv illuminates with said game.

its different to the one he suggested prior.

before you could utter a word, brad throws a controller that hits you square in the stomach. he equally shuffles over into the middle of the bed, almost pushing you off and désiré slides in last.

a sigh that leaves your lips keeps your shoulders rumbling. you comply anyway, but not with much effort. after you suggested playing roblox to the pair of them a hangout ago, brad had been hell bent on playing a video game everytime désiré came back over.

the game pings to life. all three controllers illuminate, and another sigh slips past your lips as your fingers drift over the joysticks with little more than absent-minded ease.

bradley and désiré end up facing each other after eliminating you, and the pair go at it like starving wolves fighting over the same kill. their joysticks click and clatter with every movement, and the pair have completely abandoned their relaxed posture in favour of sitting upright, in contrast to you, who’s reclined contently against the headboard.

“dont run, brad,” doue calls out, amusement clawing at his tone as he hunts him down. you almost laugh, wondering if your dumb brother is unaware that the split screen has made hiding from désiré completely pointless.

“im plotting,” he defends. “not running.”

“sure,” désiré teases, his tone suddenly dipping into a lower register that catches you slightly off guard. you peek over your brother’s head, only to find yourself caught on désiré’s smile.

it’s ridiculous, really, because he’s always looked like that—yet anywise, right now, something about him keeps your attention on him.

his cheekbones sit high enough that when he smiles, it consumes his whole face. it’s perspicuous, almost unfairly so, and somehow futile not to mirror. there’s the small smirk he wears so naturally; the subtle movement of his adam’s apple when he swallows—and when his eyes crease at the corners when victory over your brother brings out a genuine smile—you’re noticing things you’ve never bothered to notice before.

bradley’s arms fly up in annoyance beside you, but even that fails to break your subconscious stare at doue.

since when did he get so attractive?

why has these thoughts only occurred now?

you’re hauled from your fantasy when your brother twists his head back to you and suggests, “round two?”

“er,” you blink hard. “yeah, why not.”

désiré also looks back at you, offering a gentle smile that causes warmth to rise to your cheeks, where you press the controller to hide it. why did that make you blush? he’s done that plenty of times before and never provoked a reaction.

you’re about to press start again, when your brothers phone vibrates between his legs. it’s a call.

“they always call at the wrong time.”

he exhales agitated, shuffling off the bed with his phone in his right hand, points and says “hold i gotta take this.” before he darts off and shuts the door behind him. when he exits, you wait until his voice falters as he walks further and further away, leaving only you and doue, before you break the silence.

“do you hate him as much as i do?”

“i—what?” desire tilts his head, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

you nod towards the door that bradley just left through, mirroring the same smirk. “brad. we have a mutual hatred for him, don’t we?”

“sometimes,” desire now laughs. he pushes himself back against the headboard to your bed, adopting your position and crosses his ankles over one another. he also shuffles a little closer to you, which intentional or not, makes your palms a little clammy.

“i think we should play without him,” you elbow his arm impishly. it’s only afterwards do you realise how close you both are. normally, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. normally, sitting this close would feel like second nature.

but for an unknown reason, there’s a small swoon of butterflies in the pit of your stomach this time.

“i think we should too,” doue says, “it’ll be better without him as he’s clearly,” he gestures to the tv where it shows a cross next to your brothers name tag, “pretty shit at this.”

a laugh rumbles from your throat, almost spilling into a full belly laugh. that’s bradley. the one and only.

shit at all the games he’s so arrogant that he’s the best at.

the game continues, and you fail at it just like you did previously. eliminated, eliminated, eliminated. except, your patience was wearing thin when doue had completely cheated when he coaxed you to trap you inside an inescapable room.

“that was not fair!” you exclaim, jolting your back up and your knee clashes with his. your ears borderline pink.

“it so was!”

“it so wasn’t!” you protest, turning to face him entirely. “you completely cheated! cheater!”

“i’m a cheater?” doue bites back playfully, “you were camping the entire game. you have cheater written all over you!”

you swat his chest playfully, and what starts as a simple tease quickly evolves into a soft playfight. the footballer catches your wrist before you can land another shove, laughing as you immediately try to pull free. “i am not—!” your sentence stops abruptly, when désiré hurdles for you and sends your body smacking the plump mattress, though it had a slight sting to it. giggles erupt from the both of you, as you attempt to wiggle out from beneath him, although it’s no good.

“you know you’re not getting out of this,” désiré croons, poking the sides of your stomach as you immediately try to force him off. “tell me i’m not a cheater.”

“but you are a—” he tickles you again, sending desperate giggles into the air, as you pant for air. “désiré, stop that!”

“make me.” his smile is ear wide, a mute, salmon blush creeping up to his cheeks. the gold chain he wears around his neck swirls over you.

“désiré…”

“i said,” he taunts. “make. me.”

theres a sudden resilience that pulsates through you, and you flip doue over as you now hover above. you go to flaunt, and for whatever reason, you blink and you’re laying back down with him ontop again.

“hm,” he grins, teasing. “didn’t last long did it?”

this time, he doesn’t poke you. he doesn’t pinch or provoke you. he just stares down at your face, slightly squinting his eyes as his hands brace at the sides of your head, one pining your wrist above your head. his words don’t register in your brain, because all that you can focus on is the curve of his lips.

désiré takes his tongue along his bottom lip, probably absentmindedly but it sends a shiver through your lower belly. a silence sediments between you before his gaze dips to your lips for a brief moment.

soft, breathless pants are the only sound audible. the laughs stop.

then, they explore back over your eyes, and every blink he takes seems to drag. there’s a faint smell of his cologne lining your nostrils, as he’s merely inches away from your face. his breath fans softly against your skin, warm, and you can only hope and pray that you don’t look as crimson red as you feel.

his eyes drop down to your lips for a half a second more. they don’t dart away this time. they linger, almost as though he’s trying to work out whether he’s imagined whatever’s suddenly settled between the two of you. your heartbeat pounds so loudly you’re convinced he can hear it. neither of you utters a word. neither of you moves.

he’s désiré.

your brother’s best friend.

your best friend.

your…

before you can convince yourself otherwise, you’re leaning forward, lips parted as you reach for his own. your lips brush his for barely a second, hesitant enough to give him every opportunity to pull away. however, he doesn’t.

instead, his hand slips from your wrist to cup the side of your face as he kisses you back, gentle at first, then with enough certainty to make your stomach completely forget how to function. your mind goes completely blank, caught somewhere between disbelief and the overwhelming realisation that this is actually happening. because this isn’t some stranger, some passing crush you can easily brush away—it’s him.

someone you never thought of as nothing more than a second brother.

as if he’s testing how far he can go, his lips connect to the curve of your neck, teeth nipping at the supple skin that borders your jaw. they glide across your flustered skin, reaching your lips once again, pushing them open to suck at your top lip.

something about this feels so wrong but also so right.

“well—”

the bedroom door swings open.

in the scramble to untangle yourselves as bradley stands frozen, blinking between the two of you, you end up kicking him against the bed frame, one of your knees trapped between his, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.

“…do you guys want me to leave or?”

Entry 6 ~

Under the stars…

*content warning* Smut, fem receiving…

You (Clarrise Scamander), are going to meet Draco at the astronomy tower tonight at midnight. And you have no idea what he has in store for you, all he said was,

”Wear something pretty, okay Angel?”

So you are wearing a cute skirt, jumper, and matching under garments! You hope something fun will happen after all! As you're about done getting ready, you swipe some lipstick on, something simple, similar to your natural color. You put on the invisibility cloak you forgot to give back to Harry last week, and make your way to the astronomy tower.

~

As you arrive at the astronomy tower, you see Draco, surrounded by candle light and food. You take off your cloak, he sees you, as beautiful as ever…

”Clarrise, you look… lovely.” Draco said, trying to hold back from calling her anything potentially risky

”Why thank you Draco… you look good too.” You reply, also trying not to say something risky. Although that white button up looks very good on him.

He pops open a non-alcoholic beverage for you two to share, and he pours you a glass. You just watch him, his sleeves messily rolled up, his silver hair falling over his face, the way he carefully pours your drink. He’s almost… intoxicating.

”Here Clar.” He says while handing you your drink. 

“Cheers!” You say as you raise your glass

”Cheers to being late on the first day of school.” You say while laughing

”Cheers” He responds, glasses clinking 

He’s set up a small spread, some classics, chocolate covered strawberries, and some macrons, painted to be pygmypuffs. A sweet gesture. 

“Clarrise?” He asked

”Yes Draco?” You replied, now looking up you see him holding his family ring out to you.

”May I please, have the honor of being your boyfriend?” He said, with a grin on his face

”… Yes! Of course Draco!” You squeal out of pure joy

You wrap your arms around him and kiss him, he does the same. Next thing you know, you're on the floor, making out with him on top of a picnic blanket. He has one hand under your head, acting like a cushion between you and the creaking wood floor, the other, exploring the sides of your body. Making its way up and down, finding your belly, then traveling up, and up. Until he reaches your chest, making sure to memorize every curve, taking time to see what gets the most noise out of you.

”Mhmp” You moan into his mouth when he pinches your nipple. 

“Oh?” He responds, now pulling away from the kiss

You feel his kisses traveling down, from the soft spot on your ear, to the nape of your neck, his thumb now rubbing your collar bone. Making sure to analyze every inch of you possible. He moves down further, more hurried and hungry, ready to pick you apart, to hear every noise you make. His mouth now making its way to your chest, in anticipation you arch your back, he doesn’t like that, 

“Ah ah, stay still Angel.” Draco corrects

You nod in understanding, feeling his mouth ever so close to your nipple now. Feeling him kiss it, you exhale as you feel it. He notices your mouth agape, and he licks. You whimper, your body wanting more, and he knows it. He starts to suck on it, moving his free hand down, lifting your thighs, moving your skirt up, exploring your underwear,  finding your already wet clit. He smiles, you feel it against your chest.

”Soaked for me already?” He says, trying to get any reaction out of you

You don’t give him one, so he makes sure that you will. His thumb is now moving in circular motions, trying to find what amount of pressure and speed you like best. Once he finds it he asks you if its okay if he puts his fingers in you,

”Mhm..” You nod in response 

“Cmon baby, use your words for me…” He says, eye level with you now. Staring at you, waiting for a response, his fingers just slightly pressed against your entrance.

”Yes” You say, finally able to spit it out

He nods, looks down making sure he's not misaligned, then back at you. Eager to see what face you make as he puts his fingers in you, and when he does your eyebrows thread, and your eyes close. 

“Look at me baby.” He says, doing it just to get a positive reaction out of you.

So you open your eyes and look at him, he slowly moves his fingers adjusting to what you and your body are telling him. No one's ever been inside of you before, this new and unexplored feeling is driving you crazy, all you want is more. And he can tell, he's reintroducing his thumb while he's partially inside of you. Now kissing you, digging his tongue into your mouth by force, doing whatever he wants.

When he finds that right speed inside of you, you start to whimper. Feeling goosebumps forming all over, your knee lifting, grazing his shoulder, the other leg doing the same. Your hands become frantic, not knowing where to go, or what to do, they wander wherever they want. But at that moment one is in his hair and another holding his shoulder, gripping it actually practically digging into it. 

He’s keeping the same pace, his thumb and other fingers working in synchronization, trying their best to please you, his mouth, hungry to taste you, to absorb your whimpers and moans. You feel a knot start to form in your abdomen, this feeling is new, and building up quickly. Soon you realize what it is, waiting for it. Draco knows you're almost there, your whines and moans becoming more frantic.

You yell out his name, your warm insides now on his fingers. But he keeps on going, letting you ride out the high. Your breath slowly returning to normal, your heart slowing down, your legs and grip on him relaxing.

”Thank you.” Is all you’re able to say

”Anything for my princess.” He says

But, you notice, well… him. His pants are now bulging at the zipper, you’re staring…

And he notices.

”You don’t have to do anything about me baby. Don’t you worry your pretty head.” He said laying down now, letting you rest on him. 

He cleans everything up, blowing out the candles and finishing the bottle, helping you adjust your clothes and hair. He walks you back to your dorm, holding your hand.

”Good night Angel…” He says outside the common room entrance

”Good night my prince.” You say after you kiss him on the cheek

all you can think about when you get into your room is his bulge, and how you wanted to help. Maybe you will~

goodnight~

Authors note :

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Tom had grown up hungry.

Tom had grown up ravenously hungry, and alone, and without comfort.

He’d grown up without a mother, who died the day she gave birth to him, without a father—who ran the moment he could, without any care beyond feeding and changing him from the orphanage caretakers.

Once he was old enough to learn there was no point in asking for any sort’ve affection, he stopped. Stopped hanging onto skirts, or holding his arms up for a hug—because that’s what he saw other little boys do.

It was always the same; a shove, a glance, and neglect.

They only fed him because they were paid to do it, only housed him because they got money from the government per child. Tom grew up starving, for more than just food. Starving for affection, starving for comforts beyond his itchy thin bed, starving for anyone to look beyond his oddities and see a boy who still needed a guiding hand, even if he didn’t act like it.

Tom gave up on asking for affection when he was 6 and thrown into the basement for breaking a vase over Billy’s head. He hadn’t meant to do it, he just got so angry at Billy—who’d ripped up Tom’s book that he’d gotten for his birthday. The vase had moved on its own, Tom had repeated—over and over—begging for anyone to listen.

No one did, and Tom spent the night in the dark damp basement with the rats, who didn’t care about him either—and nibbled at his clothes and hair as he slept curled up in a corner near the boiler.

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