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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 3 years

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Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N: I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends.

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased.

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly.

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll.

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone.

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times.

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his.

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off.

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it.

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this.

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further.

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in.

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded.

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!”

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously.

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #heyhihellowhatsup0

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lils-of-the-valley · 3 years

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Better late than never! I've been avoiding social media since it came out because I didn't have time to watch it until now. Here are my thoughts and reactions while watching Mr. Pigeon 72! Also, disclaimer, I watch the French dub, so if there's a difference between that and the English version, well, oops?

Alya just watching Maribug looking like a mad scientist as she rambles is a mood

Poor Mr. Pigeon. He just loves his birds

Do Tom and Sabine not question the explosions from their daughter's room? Also how many times has this happened before?

There's something beautiful about Alya calling LB Marinette

I love Alya if yall didn't already know that! She's Mari's common sense when she spirals and I love that in a friend. Because I'm Mari and my best friend is my Alya

Alya, bb, how are you so wise? "When I'm fixated on a thing and I think of nothing else, that's when I find myself stuck. You know what you need right now? A break!"

Mari is so stubborn, baby, please, take a break

So she said it was a science project

Idk Tom, if my kid was blowing things up, I might want to check

"Life isn't waiting until the storm has passed; it's learning to dance in the rain" Alya's grandmother is quite the wise woman. I see where she gets it from

Mari, baby, it's not something to be taken literally.....

Wait, Trixx and Alya together 🥺🥺

Alya, you sly fox

KAGAMINETTE????

Ok, I know Mari is repressing her feelings because she feels like she can't be with anyone, but baby girl is growing up. I know she still loves him and all, but she also knows that with how she's acting, she won't get anywhere with it

Mari is so sweet and such a good friend to Kagami

And Alya is an amazing friend I love her so so much

MARI'S OUTFIT AAAAHHHHH

Oh, those are pjs. Still cute

Mari has no shame when it comes to her friends

Mari is trying so hard to do the right thing for Kagami, trying to make her happy, but she's forgetting to listen

Plagg is Adrien's Alya (or Chat Noir's Alya, because Nino can't do it, not yet)

I just want to know how Adrien got a hold of a duffle bag of cheese and managed to sneak it in, like, doesn't that smell?

Ok, but what's Bob Roth's job, seriously?

What can Adrien not do, seriously?

What the fuck this Mari type? That's not french, that's... Idk what language that is

Wait, is Adrien only allergic to pigeons? I thought it was all birds

Mari owns Dora's backpack's cousin, the duffle bag

What's the use of the bathing caps if your hair is out (I am aware that for aesthetics, hair is necessary. No shade to Aspik, but)

Mari, I think you're projecting onto Kagami, trying to live through her because you can't be with him

Ok, but the girls are actually adorable, even if Mari is going a little overboard here

ouch, Adrien....

THE BIRD! NO!!!

Why am I surprised that Bob Roth's name is Robert? Bob is a nickname for Robert

I hate Hawkmoth (Shadowmoth?) and Bob Roth so so much

Oh no, Kitty noir...

RENA TIMEEEEEE

Oh, that's how they communicate through the flute

Alya controlling the fake Ladybug and Chat Noir is like he writing a fanfic of her own, but live

Rando civilians that look nothing like Kitty and Buginette, nice touch Alya

I hate Hawkmoth so much.....

Bug is just.... NEW OUTFIT????? OH I LOVE

And a safety charm!!

Also, is Mr. Ramier just really tall or is Mari tiny? Because he's like 1.5x her height and at age 14, she's not growing for much longer.....

Kagami saying the real things to Mari. Calling her out for her projecting. I kinda wanna see Kagami tag-teaming with Alya to put sense through Mari's head when she's spiraling

IS THAT IN THE RAIN????

REVERSE RAIN SCENE!!! OH ITS SO CUTE!!!

ADRIEN WHAT WAS THAT LOOK?? Also, is Adrien getting clumsy a sign that he's falling for Mari? And Mari being able to talk to him is a sign of her maturing!

And she's talking Alya's advice literally with the dancing in the rain thing!

FINAL THOUGHTS! As usual, I loved this episode! The Alya/Mari dynamic was amazing and I hope we get to see the girls working together some more! And I love Alya's firmness with Mari, it's what she needs. Also more Kagami/Mari moments! Kagami is also firm with Mari and I'd love to see her integrated in the girl squad, or at least become friends with Alya, so they can get through to Mari together. Adrien was cute this episode but I'm really curious about the clumsy moment of his. We know that the first rain scene is the moment Mari fell, so is this reversed one the moment Adrien falls? Oh! I cant wait for more!!!!!

#And that is a wrap!#ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #ml spoiler #ml spoilers #mr pigeon 72 #mr pigeon 72 spoilers #ml mr pigeon 72 #my thoughts on the ep #lils rambles #miraculous

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meflemming · 3 years

Text

Nothing Changes || Solo

TIMING: After this

SUMMARY: The mess at Devil’s Gullet has been taken care of, but not the mess that Miriam has made of herself

CONTAINS: Emo vampire and a dog

What’s done, what’s done, what’s done is done That’s the way the river runs

Though the mess at Devil’s Gullet had been cleaned and properly disposed of, nothing remaining of the act that Miriam and Morgan had committed but acrid smelling smoke and torched plastic, Miriam still did not feel settled. She couldn’t find a way to feel settled after everything that had happened.

Miriam had parked her car back at her house and sat in it, the engine still on, for as long as she dared. She couldn’t go back inside, couldn’t dare face Evelyn with that man’s blood still on her face. She wiped away at it, though most of it had dried. She’d need water to clean herself off properly. She saw a shadow move, inside her house. No, she wasn’t going inside. Not right now. Not like this.

Leaving her car door open, Miriam vanished out the garden gate, the rusty metal squeaking as she left. She made a mental note: she needed to get that fixed.

Miriam had made it partway into town when she realized she still clutched the man’s phone in her hand, the screen cracking under the pressure but not shattering completely. She looked at the screen, the picture of the dog staring back at her. Miriam had never had a pet, had never been allowed one. It was probably for the best, seeing what she’d become, but she’d always loved animals. The dog in the picture seemed to be smiling at her behind behind the cracks.

“You have choices, Mim! You have fucking choices. We all have choices! We don’t have to be like this, it’s too fucked.”

Morgan’s words echoed in her head like it was that damned cavern, and Miriam tried to shake the thoughts away. She had made her choice. It didn’t matter, in the end, whether it was good or bad or something in between. She’d made it, and she would deal with it. She always did, and she always came out on top, didn’t she? Miriam Flemming, successful business woman, charming, filthy rich, witch hunter extraordinaire. Capable of catching her prey without them even realize they were being led to their end. She made a choice to kill and hurt and feast on whoever and however she pleased. Even if she didn’t need to. Even if she didn’t particularly want to.

“I could have stopped myself if you’d given me the fucking chance,” she whispered out loud and through sharp, gritted teeth. She could have stopped herself. She made the choice not to. Why was this so hard.

Even from a distance, Miriam could hear that there was noise coming from the Common, shouts and screams and Miriam didn’t want to deal with that, couldn’t deal with that, especially not when she still needed to clean herself up. Instead, she made a choice: she turned the phone over, saw the little pocket that had been attached to the back. Inside, there were a number of credit cards, a dollar bill, a picture of the man and his dog, and the man’s driver’s license. Thomas Klein. She wondered if his friends called him Tommy, or Tom. She shouldn’t be dwelling on this. She looked at the address on the card, committed it to memory, and started walking.

“Tell me you can feel how wrong this is.”

Of course it felt wrong. Of course there was a part of it that was always nagging in the back of Miriam’s mind that maybe she could stop. And she had stopped, hadn’t she? For almost twenty-five fucking years, she’d stopped. But stopping made her anger, her hurt, scream louder and louder until she had to start up again. And, really, she told herself she was doing good. She was making sure no one else ever got screwed over in the name of magic like she had. Wasn’t that worth it? Wasn’t that enough? It was hard for her to believe that, though, when she thought of all of the spell casters she’d known that had been kind, that she’d loved and cared for. The Wildes had been her family just as much as they’d been Theo’s, until the end. Until they’d decided to collectively hate her for taking out one of their own. Until they’d decided not to hear her side of the story, to try and understand her rage and anger and, fuck, she hadn’t been able to stop herself with him? Why couldn’t they have understood that?

She hadn’t been able to stop herself with any of them ever since. If she pushed it down, the wrongness of it no longer felt so wrong.

She arrived at a tiny, empty house with the lights off. She checked, the address was correct. This was where Thomas Klein lived. The front door was locked, and Miriam could only hear one living thing inside. She knew what it had to be. She walked around to the side, snapped the lock on the window as she forced it open, and slipped inside.

The padding of clawed feet met her ears. Darkness meant nothing to a vampire, and Miriam clearly made out the warm, coppery-blonde color of the dog as it cautiously approached her, letting out unsure woofs.

“I know I’m not who you expected,” Miriam said, then frowned as she realized she was talking to a dog, of all things. She bent down, and stuck her hand out. The dog approached and sniffed, though it let out a whine and moved away from her. “I… probably smell like your owner in the worst way possible, don’t I?” Of course she did. She was covered in the man’s blood. She’d held his throat between her teeth. Moving over to the sink, She washed her face off, watching the final traces of blood swirl down the sink.

“You are so terrified that things could be different, because it would mean you and everyone else has suffered for no good reason and it really was as shitty as it felt this whole time!”

Miriam forced the water to shut off and gripped the edge of the sink, a snarl working its way out of her mouth. The dog backed away from her, whining again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the creature. “Sorry.”

Smearing her fingerprints so that no trace of her remained on the counter, Miriam turned her back to it and slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said again. Her throat felt dry, tight. It shouldn’t feel like this, not after such a large meal. She should be sated. Instead, she felt empty. Something like shame wormed its way into her stomach as the dog walked closer. Miriam held out her hand, and the dog sniffed it again, licking her fingers. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Miriam gripped the dog’s collar. “Penny?” she asked, reading the name off the collar. The dog perked up at the sound of its name. “Penny.” The dog was the color of a copper penny. “I’m afraid your owner isn’t coming back. I’m afraid I’ve been rather bad, tonight. I’m so very sorry.” How sad, that she could more easily apologize to a dog than a person.

“You’re only incapable right now because you’re a fucking coward. But you know what? Mission accomplished! You win! You’re a monster and a liar, but it’s not because of the magic boogeyman universe that made you. It’s just you. Alone.”

It was just Miriam, wasn’t it? A successful business owner of a company that should have died off with her parents. Charming, but only on the surface. Filthy rich, but where had that gotten her? Wrapped around a pole with a broken heart, all because the person she loved couldn’t see past her dollar signs. And a witch hunter? She was ripping herself apart just for a meal, just because she was broken on the inside and didn’t know how to fix it. She lived in a mess of her own making.

Happy fucking holidays.

She would tell herself, later, that it was out of boredom that she wandered around Thomas Klein’s house, learning about his life. He was a part of some odd gaming group that enjoyed strange comic books and cartoons that she didn’t understand. He had a nephew that was prevalent in a number of pictures littered around his sparse home. He was probably a spell caster, based off of the numerous books on witchcraft around his home, but that didn’t seem so damning, anymore. He had friends, a family. So many of her victims did.

This changed nothing. There was no going back, no biting her pride and allowing the poor bastard to live. She’d seal his fate, as well as hers and Morgan’s. If only the damned woman hadn’t told her to stop. If only she’d trusted Miriam. Miriam would never earn such trust now. Did she even want to? Or would that hurt all the more?

Miriam snapped off the tag on Penny’s collar that showed off Thomas Klein’s address. “I cannot keep you,” she told the animal. “I have a friend who is staying with me, and I don’t know her opinion on animals. I don’t believe surprising her with one of my victim’s dogs is considered a nice gift for the holidays. I’m sorry.” She stroked Penny’s fur, the feeling of it soft between her fingers. “I cannot bring your owner back, either. What’s done is done, and it is cruel to you. But I will stay with you, until I can have you taken to the shelter. I will compel someone to ensure you get a good home, the best home.”

This was proof, Miriam decided, that she should hunt alone, or only with people who could possibly understand her. This was proof that perhaps she should cut back more, only feeding when absolutely necessary. This was proof that she shouldn’t trust nice people with strong moral compasses.

Stroking Penny’s silky ears and sitting back down on the floor of a dead man’s house, Miriam Flemming did not allow tears to fall down her cheeks. She didn’t allow herself to lose control of her emotions, not even for a moment.

#nothing changes #p: solo

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thomaslightwood · 4 years

Text

A Kind of Magic

Chapter one: One Vision

A dream of sweet illusion:

A glimpse of hope and unity,

And visions of one sweet union.

(recommend, but not necessary to read/hear the song)

•

In this moment Thomas had one goal and that was to make it to the Devil Tavern. As fast as possible.

It wasn’t because he was running from something but because he needed to be alone. This was the closest place he could think of where he could be alone for now. He knew that James and Matthew were training together in the Institute and Christopher was with Henry doing their new experiment with that ichor. So their room should be empty, right?

When he entered the establishment he barely looked at the people there. He smiled at Polly and nodded at a few other Downworlders but didn’t stop to chat like usual.

Thomas tramped upstairs to their room, wanting air. He opened some of the old windows and looked at Fleet Street. It was almost lunch. He had to meet with Lucie soon.

By the Angel, Thomas had to calm down and to put himself together. He couldn’t do anything in his current state. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

The problem was one particular person. One person with sharp tongue, fair hair and black eyes. His face was in front of Tom’s sight. This one vision he just couldn’t escape.

The Carstairs arrival shouldn’t have been be surprising. At all. It was common knowledge that Lucie and Cordelia are gonna be parabatai. He just hadn’t thought about it much. Because thinking about the Carstairs means thinking about Alastair. And this always reminded him of Paris. And how confused he was after that. Thomas still was confused. Just less then before.

Love is confusing, Thomas thought. And strange. Like some spell on you which makes you dizzy. Some dark magic that stretches your heart with killing hope.

Yes, this had to be. A kind of magic.

•

When Thomas finally arrived at the Institute Lucie was already waiting for him in the emty ballroom. Many books and papers were in the big table which they usually used when they’re here.

“Sorry for being late” said Thomas guiltily.

Lucie just smiled at him, clearly in a good mood.

“Don’t worry. I’m not in hurry.”

Thomas pulled a chair to sit, facing Lucie. “You said you need help with a translation?”

“That’s right,” she said excitedly. Lucie bring in front of him few papers which he knew were drafts of Lucie’s tales. She liked this paper and used it to write on.

“So, you know about the Carstairs arrival, right?”

Thomas managed to nod. His heart was beating fast. “Anna told me about an hour ago.”

Lucie smiled happily. “I heard about it today as well. And wanted to do something special for Daisy.” Lucie took a few other papers and two books. Dictionaries, Thomas realized. “And I came up with this: to translate The Beautiful Cordelia in Persian.”

Thomas raised eyebrows, distracted from his thoughts of Alastair for a moment.

“Luce, you have been writing it since you were twelve. To translate it all… it would take weeks. Months.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Four years writing. I know there no chance to do it before their arrival. But I thought it may be ready for our parabatai ceremony.” Lucie looked at all the paper on the table and smiled hopefully at him. “However, that’s why I wanted your help, Tom. With you beside me it would be so much faster! So… Will you help?” asked Lucie, pleading.

“Of course Luce!” said Thomas without hesitation. “No need to ask. But do you know when will be your ceremony?”

“No idea” said Lucie honestly. “But I believe we can choose the date. I will convince Cordelia to be in a time after we are ready.”

“You thought about everything, didn’t you?” Thomas smiled.

Lucie laughed.

“We are talking about my parabatai after all. Now, let’s begin!”

“Let’s begin,” Thomas repeated. There were a lot of work to be done.

•

When Thomas entered the Devil Tavern for the second time this day it was almost evening.

He was with Matthew and James. Together they left the Institute, already in gear, ready to hunt demons. They had to take Christopher before the fall of the night to start patrolling London’s streets.

“I just have to pick up some knifes I forgot last time,” James said. “It won’t take long.”

“Jamie loves his knifes too much sometimes” sighed his parabatai.

So now Matthew and Thomas were waiting for him. Matthew ordered one drink for himself but Thomas didn’t want. He prefered his mind to be clear before a battle.

His charming friend chatted with Polly who was already laughing.

Thomas asked himself if he should take something to eat. He hadn’t eat anything since he met with Lucie. Maybe this could stop his thoughts to wander around Alastair Carstairs.

“Hey Tom,” Matthew called him. Thomas didn’t realize when his conversion with Polly ended. “Isn’t Christopher the one who usually isn’t here?” he asked with a smile.

Thomas tried to smile back but Matthew was right. His mind was elsewhere.

“I’m fine,” he said. He hoped he was not a liar.

Matthew drank from the drink a little, still looking at Thomas.

“Is there someone special?” he asked, curious.

Thomas didn’t answer.

“Is it that werewolf girl who was running after you for while?”

“By the Angel, Matthew,” he sighed.

Thomas still felt a little embarrassed thinking about the whole situation. Her name was Bella. She was chasing him for a few weeks and was absolutely shameless. In the end Thomas forced himself to tell her that he liked another person and didn’t want her hurt, which was true. Bella was very disappointed but said she’s fine. Asked about this person though but Thomas refused to tell her anything. It felt too private to share it with someone else.

He thought about Alastair again. For long, maybe longer then Thomas wanted to admit, the Persian was the only one he thought about this way.

There was thousand little things about him. Flash of light in his eyes. The sweet illusion of his hands. His voice. His everything. One heart. One soul. He was the glimpse of the brightest dream in the dark rains.

Thomas felt breathless. The love wasn’t what he ever imagined it would be. There’s no black and no white. It was all the colors at one.

“Thomas!”

He startled and looked at Matthew. He forgot that his friend was still there.

“There is definitely someone,” Matthew said, already grinning.

“Are you hungry?” Thomas asked, desperate to change the topic.

Polly came near them, rising an eyebrow.

“Do I know this person? Is it a lady or a gentleman?” the blond kept asking, ignoring Tom’s question.

Thomas looked at Polly, trying not to blush.

“Just gimme fried chicken,” he murmured.

•

A/N: one big shout out for Teddy (@fair-y-child) who was so kind to edit my chapters! Thank you Teo for your help, it wouldn’t be the same without you ❤️

People who wanted to be tagged (thanks to every one of you, I didn’t expect so many people to ask for it): @christopher-lightwood-my-heart @panicatwallmaria @thomaslightwoodx @thomastair-paris @lavanyalol @lucexherondale @tom-carstairs @im-gay-for-cordelia-carstairs @vintage-morning-wine @ab-cedario @daisycordelia @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @a-very-gay-spider (btw I will keep tagging you if you don’t tell me to stop)

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dfcfanfics · 3 years

Text

So What the Hell Did I Do This Year?

As if I have to tell any of you this... 2020 was one completely messed-up year. COVID, elections, full-on national insanity...

It was also the Year of No New Miraculous Content (outside of the New York special, which I have not watched yet, and about which I’m not completely sure where it officially fits into canon.) So my stories have been in something of a post-Season 3 holding pattern much in the way that the show has.

Luckily for me, that post-Season 3 status (the Adrigaminette triangle) is rich with storytelling possibilities. Just about everything that I wrote this year revolved around that dynamic and how it might end up resolving.

LONGFICS:

Stuck In A Bakery (With You) (Complete) (AO3)

When a medical crisis appears to threaten the Agreste household, Gabriel's first impulse is to send his son far away from potential danger. (One does not risk the company's most valuable asset, after all!) While visiting Marinette at her house, Adrien gets the word that he's about to be spirited away to stay with distant relatives for the duration.

But this is the Dupain-Cheng household... and they may have other ideas as to how a less traumatic self-quarantine might be arranged.

My big story for the year, and going by the numbers, my biggest hit yet. I was a little bit wary of writing a COVID story in this context, but I decided to try something a little different; short, rapid-fire chapters, posted one-per-day for quite some time. I was cooped up, I was feeling creative, and I felt like entertaining people in the same boat.

This one was a slow-burn for the ages. With Our Heroes in captivity and Hawkmoth dormant, Marinette and Adrien explore what they mean to each other, share a bathroom, do their best to avoid hurting Kagami (as Adrigami was an in-progress thing when the quarantine hits) and decide what comes next. Tom and Sabine manage the business in troubled times while supporting the budding relationship, Gabriel and Nathalie insert themselves into events, the classmates do their best to grasp what’s going on, and a good deed done wrong proves most impactful.

No one gets sick or intubated or buried, even as the realities of the virus and its impact remain present. This is not Pandemic Porn. This is fluff and comfort and two nervous kids learning about each other up close.

Throw Me Around Like One Of Your French Girls (WIP) (AO3)

Reflecting upon an unpleasant encounter, Marinette makes a small realization... as Ladybug, she can defend herself with ease, but what happens if she's facing down unwanted physicality as Marinette? It's a good thing that she happens to know a classmate who's studying the martial arts, if he'd be willing to teach her some things?

A short multi-parter, a pleasant distraction from the continuing It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time. Fluff, fashion choices, twisted arms, friendship, tension and tap-outs.

The next variation on the triangle’s developments. It started as a small rumination on what happened in Felix (namely Ladybug punching his lights out), with Marinette learning some Aikido from her handsome classmate. With Adrigami still happening, Marinette feels much more relaxed around him... and with Marinette relaxed around him, Adrien is increasingly captivated by her. (Lukanette is Not Quite A Thing Yet in this, though certainly possible. Luka is Mr. Not Appearing Much In This Year’s Stories Of Mine.)

Unlike in Stuck In A Bakery, Kagami can and does meet with both of them throughout. There is a definite connection each way, and a need to pass the Bechdel Test -- Marinette refuses to let her and Kagami be solely defined by Adrien. .

Still in progress, approaching its climax, kind of on hold because Delicate’s been more on my mind.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time... (technically WIP) (AO3)

A week ago, the friendly relationship between Adrien, Marinette and Kagami seemed to be blossoming on all fronts... But that was a week ago.

Now, Marinette is wondering what - if anything - in her life can be salvaged.

Then there's a knock at her door... and, suddenly, so many things are changing all at once.

A short flight of fancy, several small parts to come.

Round three in the Adrigaminette triangle -- and this one really _is_ Adrigaminette in nature.

A highly stressed, frustrated and emotionally troubled Marinette has all the plates in the air right now. Her wish-he-was-her-boyfriend is seeing her new friend Kagami, she’s not entirely sure if Luka would be an adequate substitute, she has her new Guardianship to contend with, and everything seems to be falling apart at once.

So, when Kagami shows up on her doorstep because Adrien abruptly dumped her... thinking isn’t the first thing on her mind. Acting is. And act, she does!

This is NOT a dump-on-Adrien fic, however, no matter how much it may seem so at first. Adrien gets his turn to express why he did what he did, how he felt he was being unfair to Kagami by continuing, and why he’s just as troubled Marinette is... but Ladybug and Ryuko asking Chat what _he_ thinks they should do complicates that greatly, as you might expect.

I say TECHNICALLY WIP because I feel like it stands well just as I left it... but I feel like I could add another epilogue chapter or two to it at some point. And perhaps I will.

Delicate (WIP, NSFW!) (AO3)

A university-aged Marinette hears a cry for help on a quiet Saturday night, while walking home. Her glory days as Ladybug were years ago, but she still has her Miraculous, so... she investigates. What she finds startles her... among other emotions.

This is the one that I had told myself I would never write.

I’ve been dismissive of aged-up fics in the past that were aged up simply to enable sex scenes without triggering the dreaded Underage tag. Not as in “no one should ever write those,” but as in “this isn’t my cup of tea as an author.” But a scene jumped into my head, and it inspired a thought... if Marinette and Adrien _did_ jump straight to age nineteen for the purposes of my story, what happened in those years in-between?

“Porn Without Plot is like Faith Without Works” was one of the first tags on this one. Yes, Our Heroes bump uglies in this one... frequently. But don’t let that scare you off. There is a lot of exploration here that doesn’t involve bodies, such as:

Why isn’t Marinette actively Ladybug any more? Why did Adrien disappear for two years -- and what happened on the night that caused it? Why is Plagg absolutely furious at Adrien? How will Adrien explain any of this to his onetime partner -- or to Marinette -- or to both at once, once he recovers from the shock of knowing that they’re one and the same? And what will the other Kwamis think about all of this?

Lighthearted at its core, angstful when necessary, sexy without being explicit, full of difficult conversations and circumstances. It’s not about what they’re up to; it’s about why.

ONE-SHOTS:

A Little Promise I’d Made Myself (Complete) (AO3)

It's New Year's Eve in Paris, and at Rose's house, the classmates (among many others) are having quite a party. Adrien is sipping on his punch, watching merriment ensue, and wondering what the right next move is for him... until he sees a certain classmate sitting by herself, looking less than enthusiastic.

Can these crazy kids find a way to make it work?

Of course they can.

I’m cheating with this one -- it was posted in the last week of 2019. But it’s New Year’s Eve and this is a New Year’s Eve story and I’m pimping it out, dammit.

Revisit this one and picture That Kiss when midnight arrives wherever you are, okay?

Perhaps I Failed To Think This Through... (CRACKFIC, complete) (AO3)

Gabriel Agreste's first transformation startled him with the changes to his physical form, the raw power at his command, and the endless possibilities that his magical proxies might provide.

But it's always a good idea to try a test run first... and maybe run your designs past a focus group, or something.

Crackfic based around Gabriel’s first attempt at villainy once gaining the power of Nooroo.

It... doesn’t go well.

Some Said He Had No Sense Of Humor (Complete) (AO3)

While wandering down in the room containing Emilie's chamber, Nooroo makes a very startling discovery. He reports it to Gabriel... who demonstrates absolutely no surprise. Little does Nooroo know that his day of surprises is just beginning... and what Gabriel truly has in mind, he will never see coming.

Crackfic based around Emilie’s coma... or lack thereof. What if Emilie really wasn’t in magical stasis -- and for the least predictable of reasons?

As always... I send my warmest regards to my readers. Your feedback and comments are always welcome, and they make writing these stories worthwhile. Stay well, stay happy, stay away from hairy men in trenchcoats, and stay tuned for what next year will bring. It _has_ to be better than what this one did... right?

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #post-season 3 #happy new year ya filthy animals

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antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch7)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom's memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom's past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

(I'll put the links to chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6 in a reblog!! I also have a version of this fic with all the chapters in one place!!)

Notes: Was that the fastest I've posted a next chapter, without having it written ahead of time? I think it might be!!

It definitely helped that two scenes were directly from the book XD But still, I was shocked by how fast this got done!

By the way, I realized there was something important I should probably have occur in the previous chapter, that I didn't include, so please note something will be added in at some point! I finished this chapter before I edited the last one so it's not there yet XD I'll let you know at the start of the next chapter if I edited it in.

I also realized I did not mention Fawkes hanging out in the office in other chapters XD, so I'll probably have to edit that back in too, haha!

Comments are always extremely appreciated!! And do let me know if you'd like me to add you to a tag list for this fic!!

Chapter 7:

There was the sound of Dumbledore’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood abruptly.

“Now I must apologize.” Though still solid, his voice had lost its pleasantness, now it had an edge. “Severus.” The word was sharp, “I cannot allow you to treat a student this way.”

The two stared at each other, and it was as if they were having a conversation in simple glances. Snape seemed to lose the silent argument, because he sighed and said in a clipped way, not looking at Tom.

“My apologies. I lost my composure.”

When Harry looked at Tom he saw that, behind the adult’s backs, his lips were curving into a smirk.

He wasn’t even really upset, was he? He’d have every right to be upset by a scene such as this, but in the end…he was just happy to see Snape get in trouble.

Harry and Snape had rarely, if ever, been on the same side, and the muting spell, while he admitted was necessary—(number of things flared to his tongue that he was glad he wasn’t capable of saying)—didn’t give him any fondness for him…yet it seemed for a brief moment, they were united. But he wouldn’t say he was the least bit opposed to Snape’s treatment of Riddle.

He had expected Snape to be his usual collected self, even favor Riddle the way he did Malfoy—they’d suspected on more than one occasion he was in league with Voldemort. Seeing the hatred in his eyes for Riddle made Harry take a step back, both physically and mentally.

“Thank you.” Dumbledore sat back down.

Tom said nothing, his eyes fixed on Snape, intent set in them. “You must really hate me.” He said the words like he relished the idea. “What did I do?” Tom’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve killed a girl, so there must not be much I can’t do.”

The teachers’ eyes widened, and they looked at each other.

“You didn’t kill her.” Dumbledore cleared his throat.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “I thought Harry here made that rather clear.”

“Harry thought you did. But this is magic of course. I am able to deduce from the information you have given me; it was in fact another force working through you through that diary. Destroying the diary severed your ties with that force, but also cost you your memories.”

Harry wondered what Dumbledore’s aim was. He had killed Ginny, they both confirmed it.

“How would you know this from just a bit of information?” Tom scoffed.

“Because I’ve dealt with such forces on more than one occasion—even this specific one before. This one is a particular nuisance.”

After a moment of silence Dumbledore spoke:

“Professor Snape. Will you kindly take Mr. Riddle to Madam Pomfrey?”

“Sir?”

“Well, the boy has suffered a loss of memory, he ought to stay in the hospital wing until we get all this sorted. There should be a few empty beds now that the petrified students have been cured. “Also…” he interrupted them as they turned to leave, and something sad indeed entering his gaze. “Send the Weasleys to me, will you?”

Harry’s stomach gave a painful jolt at the name.

As the two left—(rather stiffly)—Dumbledore flicked his wand, lifting the muting curse Snape had placed on Harry.

Harry drew in a great gasping breath.

“Thank you, professor.” He heaved.

“Don’t mention it, Harry. I don’t imagine that was very pleasant”

“No.” Harry replied, making faces, just glad to have use of his lips again.

“Did Professor Snape force you to drink the truth serum, Harry?”

“Actually…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I drank it myself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I must say, that was not an answer I was expecting. May I ask if you had a reason?”

“You told me to tell Snape every detail of what happened, but I…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t. Every time I tried to say something he’d interrupt, or I couldn’t get it out…it was the only way.”

“I’m sorry you had to resort to such measures, Harry. I only meant that he ought know a good potion of what happened, not every detail. I think, in fact, knowing every detail resurrected old grudges for Severus.” He looked towards the door.

“It’s alright. I won’t say it wasn’t fun to watch. …I’ve never seen Snape like that…Why does Snape have a grudge against Voldemort?”

“It is not not my place to tell you.”

“Like he’d ever tell me.” Harry scoffed, then froze, eyes wide, worried he was about to get in trouble.

Dumbledore gave a small smile, “I can see why precautions were necessary.”

Harry smiled sheepishly.

“But, no,” Dumbledore replied. “I don’t imagine he will.

“I apologize if that was rather difficult to watch. I wanted you to be here. I thought you deserved to hear our conversation.”

“Thanks.”

“Sit down, Harry.” He gestured to the chair in front of him.

He was about to sit down, but paused. He knew it was silly, but he didn’t like the idea of sitting in the chair the young Voldemort had just sat in.

Dumbledore smiled a little. “Sit.”

Slowly he lowered himself into the chair, sitting on as little of it as possible.

“First of all, Harry, I want to thank you.” He stroked the phoenix, witch had fluttered down onto his knee. “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.”

“…Fat lot of good it did me.” He didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“Oh, I think it did a great deal of good. Who knows how things would have gone without that. One thing I know would have gone differently is you likely would have had great deal of trouble getting out of the chamber. Fawkes is the one who flew you out, is he not?”

There was a long moment where they sat in silence, before Harry spoke:

“I couldn’t save her.”

Dumbledore looked up.

“I couldn’t save her.” He continued. “She was lying on the floor, helpless, and he was taking her life force. Next thing I knew she was dying, and he was coming back…” his voice became a pained whisper.

“It’s not your fault, Harry.” Dumbledore said earnestly. “More practiced wizards than yourself have been unable to save their friends and family from Voldemort. Her death is not on your hands.”

Harry paused, fidgeting with his hands, looking away.

“I could have killed him. When he came back he was lying on the floor unconscious…I could have…I bet most people would have. But I didn’t…I couldn’t…” he stammered, then looked up. “Why couldn’t I?!”

Dumbledore stood and sat on the desk in front of Harry. “Something people often don’t tell you, is sometimes it takes just as much courage to spare a life than to take it, often more. It may be strange to hear, but, I think it may be a very good thing that you didn’t.”

“How?”

“Let me ask you something…do you think Lord Voldemort deserves a second chance?”

Harry thought a moment; he thought of the of the man who killed his parents. Then the boy that had been before him, the one who had told him he was Voldemort, set the snake loose, and nearly killed him, and did kill—

“Honestly, professor? No, I don’t think so.”

Dumbledore nodded. “That’s very understandable. Then let me ask you something else…Do you think Tom Riddle deserves a second chance?”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “Sir?”

“Tom Riddle. Or, maybe not even Tom Riddle. I am referring to the boy who was sitting here moments ago. Not the man who killed countless. The boy who currently is nothing more than that.”

He thought harder. The boy sitting there wasn’t the same, not quite, but he still wasn’t exactly kind…. Harry himself had though Tom Riddle an ally in the diary…

“He killed Ginny.”

“Lord Voldemort killed Ginny. The boy sitting before us moments ago did not.”

“I…I don’t know.” Harry wasn’t sure why he was asking him this. “What do you think?”

“I knew Tom Riddle when he was at school. I knew him to be—while charming on the outside—clever, cunning, and manipulative. Many times I have regretted not seeing what was coming, and taking precautions, sooner. If I had seen him here today I might be inclined to say ‘no’ myself. However…the boy who stood before today may not be the same as the one I knew.”

“What do you mean? Because he lost his memory?”

“Perhaps. However…I think coming back using the diary specifically, as well as Ginny’s life force, as opposed to other means, may have had consequences he couldn’t have foreseen.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“We’ll learn in due time. Currently it is nothing more than an untested hypothesis of mine, and I don’t make it a habit of divulging those as fact.”

“So, you met Tom Riddle—before he lost his memory, I mean.” Dumbledore altered the subject. “I imagine he was most interested in you.”

Harry’s thoughts were jumbled, but something that had been nagging at him before this all started, and it presently came tumbling out of his mouth.

“Professor Dumbledore, Riddle said that I…I’m like him. Strange likenesses he said…”

“Did he now?” Said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully under his thick silver eyebrows at Harry. “And what do you think Harry?”

“I don’t think I’m like him!” Harry said more loudly than he intended. “I mean, I’m—I’m a Gryffindor, I’m…”

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.

“Professor,” he started again after a moment, “the Sorting Hat told me I’d—I’d have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin’s heir for a while…because I can speak Parseltongue…”

“You can speak Parseltongue, Harry,” said Dumbledore calmly, “Because Lord Voldemort—who is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin—can speak Parseltongue. Unless I’m much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure…”

“Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?” Harry said, thunderstruck.

“It certainly seems so.”

“So I should be in Slytherin.” Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore’s face. “The Sorting Hat could see Slytherins power in me, and it—”

“Put you in Gryffindor.” Said Dumbledore calmly. “Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students; his own very rare gift, Parseltongue, resourcefulness, determination…a certain disregard for the rules,” he added, his mustache quivering again. “Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think.”

“It only put me in Gryffindor,” said Harry in a defeated voice, “Because I asked not to go in Slytherin…”

“Exactly.” Said Dumbledore, beaming once more. “Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. Did you not prove that once again today when you chose not to kill him? That took incredible bravery.” Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. “If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this.”

Dumbledore reached across Professor McGonagall’s desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

Godric Gryffindor

“Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the Hat, Harry.” Said Dumbledore simply.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

“Sir?”

“Mm?”

“May I…May I tell Ron and Hermione about all of this? About Tom, about…?” he trailed off.

Dumbledore took off his glasses and cleaned them. “Under most circumstances I would say yes, especially considering Ron’s position, but this one is…rather special. I’m currently of the mind that the less people know Lord Voldemort is back—in any form—the better.

“This situation is both particularly strange, and particularly delicate. You may tell them that Lord Voldemort was working through a diary to control Ginny, and that this lead to her death—that is, of course, what I will be telling the Weasleys…But I believe it is safer for everyone if they do not know he successfully managed to return to the land of the living.”

Harry looked at the ground. The thought of keeping all this to himself was almost more daunting than the fact that it had happened in the first place.

“Harry, where is Ron?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I…left him down in the chamber…I….I don’t think he would have left if I told him he had to.”

Dumbledore’s eyes mirrored his. “Oh dear. Well we’ll certainly have to sort that out won’t we?”

“What should I do, sir?”

Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonnagall’s desk, and took out a quill and a bottle of ink. “What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go back to Gryffindor tower, while I write to Azkaban—we need our game-keeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too,” he added thoughtfully. “We’ll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?”

“So…” Harry spoke, his gut twisting, unsure if this was the truth serum speaking, or if pained curiosity was guiding his tongue now, “Hogwarts won’t shut down?”

Dumbledore paused, looking up at him. “I imagine I’ll have to suffer through several unpleasant meetings, but I don’t think they’ll succeed at closing Hogwarts. The threat is gone, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Harry’s voice was small. “Tom Riddle’s still around…I mean, won’t his memory come back eventually? Don’t you think he’ll be the same person when he gets his memory back?”

“You’re not saying you’d like Hogwarts to close, are you?”

“No!” Harry stood. “Of course not! I just…I…If we’re not safe…maybe it’s better…”

The thought of not coming back to Hogwarts, staying with the Dursley’s for the indeterminate future, with the knowledge that Voldemort was walking around as his sixteen your old self…

“The fact that Voldemort is back in this way makes the situation rather unorthodox, but there’s no place safer than Hogwarts. Firstly, if the school closes, I fear that would make things more dangerous on his end, rather than less. There’s no telling what he could do, released out to the world.”

“But he wouldn’t know how to do magic! Wouldn’t that—?”

“He knows magic exists, now. Knowing him, he’d do anything in his power to learn how to master it, and that could make him far more dangerous than simply teaching him. Hogwarts, while a place that will indeed teach him magic, is a place where we can more easily keep an eye on him. Not to mention the fact that Hogwarts, is, I believe, the one place Tom Riddle felt at home in the world. I think being in one of the few environments he truly felt comfortable in, will help nudge him in the right direction, don’t you?”

“The right direction? You really do think he can be reformed.”

“I am not certain. I still need to do the kind of heavy thinking one does when pouring over an unfamiliar restaurant menu in attempts to decide what to order. …But I think trying wouldn’t be remiss to try.”

Harry said nothing, questions, demands, insults, bobbing to the surface of his brain.

“We can and will certainly discuss this more after I myself have done more thinking on my own.” He said earnestly. “But at this particular moment, I don’t think it beneficial for you to continue troubling yourself. Food and sleep, Harry, I think will do you a world of good.”

Harry stayed a moment, sitting in the chair, trying to think of anything else he could ask, but he was tired of even simply thinking at this point. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed softly, before getting up and crossing to the door.

He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

“Good evening, Lucius,” said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoy’s shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

“So!” he said “You’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts.”

“Well, you see, Lucius,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too…Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place.”

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

“So—have you stopped the attacks yet?” he sneered. “Have you caught the culprit?”

“We have,” said Dumbledore, with a smile.

“Well?” said Mr. Malfoy sharply. “Who is it?”

“The same person as last time, Lucius,” said Dumbledore. “But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.”

He held up the mangled book, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

“I see…” said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

“A clever plan,” said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. “Because if Harry here” —Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look— “and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why—Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…”

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.

“And imagine,” Dumbledore went on, “what might have happened then. The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns…Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise.”

Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

“Very fortunate,” he said stiffly.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head. And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

“Don’t you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?” said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.

“How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?” he said.

Anger rose in harry at the insult

“Because you gave it to her,” his voice was tempered, “in Flourish and Blotts.

“You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn’t you?”

He saw Mr. Malfoy’s white hands clench and unclench.

“Prove it,” he hissed.

“Oh, no one will be able to do that,” said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. “Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…”

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf.

“We’re going, Dobby!”

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him—

“Professor Dumbledore,” he said hurriedly. “Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?”

“Certainly, Harry.”

Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby’s squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he gasped, skidding to a halt, “I’ve got something for you —”

And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy’s hand.

“What the—?”

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry.

“You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter,” he said softly. “They were meddlesome fools, too.”

He turned to go.

“Come, Dobby. I said, come.”

But Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure. “Master has given a sock,” said the elf in wonderment. “Master gave it to Dobby.”

“What’s that?” spat Mr. Malfoy. “What did you say?”

“Got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.”

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf.

“You’ve lost me my servant, boy!” Fury curled around his words as he lunged at harry.

But Dobby shouted, “You shall not harm Harry Potter!”

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward.

He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

“You shall go now,” he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. “You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.”

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

“Harry Potter freed Dobby!” said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. “Harry Potter set Dobby free!”

“Least I could do, Dobby,” said Harry, grinning. “Just promise never to try and save my life again.”

The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

“I’ve just got one question, Dobby,” said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry’s sock with shaking hands. “You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well —”

“It was a clue, sir,” said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. “Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?”

“Right,” said Harry weakly. “Well…I’d better go.”

Dobby threw his arms around Harry’s middle and hugged him.

“Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!” he sobbed. “Farewell, Harry Potter!”

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

He turned to Dumbledore’s office, contemplating returning to ask him a few more questions, but he saw the Weasleys entering the door.

The pit in Harry’s stomach grew teeth.

Where should he go? Ron was still down in the chamber, and he wasn’t sure either of them would want to talk anyways. Hermoine was surely awake by now…and he probably should give her a warm welcome back to awakness.

If she’d awoken yesterday he’d be ecstatic to go talk to her…but, at this particular moment, if he was being entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her. She’d have a million questions for him, none of which he was particularly inclined to answer at this moment.

It came to him that he didn’t want to talk to much of anyone.

Just when he had that thought he saw Hermoine down the hall. Well, not so much saw her, as glimpsed her, then felt her arm around him.

He was expecting her to happily ask what was going on, and where Ron was, but when she pulled away—(the hug was abnormally long)—he saw tears glinting in her eyes and she said, with the air of someone who doesn’t know what else to say, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

He gave her a quizzical look and she answered his silent question: “Professor Snape told me everything before I left the hospital wing.”

Harry highly doubted he told her everything, but, even so…What was this feeling? Was he actually feeling grateful towards Snape for the second time in the same day?

“I brought you this.” She held up the plate she was holding in her other hand. “I just thought…I wasn’t sure you’d want to go down eat with everyone else.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” and he really meant it, feeling true relief for the first time that day.

“Should we head back to Gryffindor Tower?”

He nodded.

Notes cont:

Again, that conversation about the sorting hat, and the Lucius scene, are both taken directly from the book (with a couple minimal changes), I certainly am not taking credit for writing them!!!! I just needed both those conversations/scenes to be there more for housekeeping reasons than anything else.

What does Dumbledore call Ron? Is it "Ron" "Ronald" or "Mr Weasley"? I couldn't remember. Also, what does Snape call Dumbledore? He calls him "Headmaster" right? Does that go for both when he's around students, and when he's alone with Dumbledore?

There were a couple places where I was nervous I went a little OOC, but I couldn't think what else to have them say...I hope I was okay?

4 notes · View notes

angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

@smolplantmum tagged as requested :)

Chapter 41 | Chapter 43 | AO3 link

“Two different dates!” Tikki chirps as Marinette carefully slides the last bobby pin into her hair to hold her bun. “First this one, then the group one later this week! You’re a lucky girl, Marinette!”

“Yeah. Lucky.” Marinette leans closer to her mirror so that she can touch up her makeup.

“You’re…not excited?”

“Of course I am!” The thought of seeing Kagami soon is sending shivers down her spine, and it takes every scrap of willpower she has to keep her arm steady as she finishes off her mascara. Just a touch of lip gloss and then she’ll be done; she’s never been huge on caking on makeup, mostly because the feel of it on her skin is a constant, irritating presence that sends her spiralling into sensory overload. “I think I’m too excited. And having “oh my god, you slut” feelings.”

“Marinette!” Tikki gasps. “You’re not – no! And even if you were, how is that a bad thing so long as you’re not hurting anyone else?”

“I know!” Marinette screws the lid back on her lip gloss. “I don’t shame people. If they’re into that, they’re into that. I just…guess I’m still struggling with the “happily ever after with one person” thing? And I’m not ashamed but…you know…people would have a field day if they knew I was dating three people at once.”

“What does it matter what other people think?” Tikki says. “They have no say in your love life.”

“I know…” Marinette sighs as she undresses. The outfit she’s picked is a floaty, cropped pink blouse and a white skater skirt with her signature flowers around the hem, and all she can think as she slips into it is what if Kagami doesn’t like it? What if it’s too childish? Adrien and Luka are so laidback, but Kagami? She’s so…formal. She’s never objected to Marinette’s casual outfit, but this is a date. What exactly is Kagami going to wear?

“Here!” Tikki darts over to do the button at the nape of Marinette’s neck after a few moments of Marinette struggling to contort her arms to degrees that not even a god-powered superhero can manage. Nice to know that for all the power of the Ladybug Miraculous, it can’t allow Marinette to do up her own back buttons.

“Thanks, Tikki. Now I get to sit around and catastrophise until Kagami gets here.”

“What on earth could you be catastrophising about after Kagami told you to your face that she likes you?” says a bewildered Tikki.

“You know me, Tikki! I can freak out about anything!” Marinette’s shoulders slump. “I just…it’s Adrien all over again, in a way. I keep wondering if I’m good enough for someone like her, just like I freaked out about Adrien dancing with Chloé when Nino was akumatised.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Tikki zooms up to nuzzle against Marinette’s cheek. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. You’re creative and clever and if Kagami didn’t think you were good enough, why would she have asked you out? If you weren’t good enough, why are three people interested in you?”

“Yeah but Luka and Adrien are…Luka and Adrien. And at least I’ve met Adrien’s father, so I at least impressed him with my hat beforehand. But Kagami’s mother? What if she decides that I’m not good enough for Kagami? Of course Adrien would be! He’s the cute, rich boy!”

“There’s not much she can do about it,” Tikki says. “Kagami’s a teenager. If her mother pushes too far, she’s bound to push right back. Remember how she lied about being at fencing with Adrien to visit Luka’s houseboat when Desperada attacked? Sure, Ms Tsurugi could forbid Kagami from being with you, but that’s not going to stop Kagami.”

“I know…which again brings me back to the “what if she decides I’m not worth it” thing. I know she doesn’t think that but…”

“But it’s hard to pull yourself out of that spiral.” Tikki presses a tiny kiss to Marinette’s cheek. “All you can do is tell her how you feel directly, Marinette. Then she can tell you what you need to hear.”

“Marinette! You’ve got a visitor!” Sabine calls from downstairs. Marinette yelps and fumbles for her purse, then grabs a pair of black flats, because her and heels are a match made in hell and she’ll probably end up breaking not only her neck but Kagami’s as well. She makes sure that Tikki’s safely in her purse before bolting downstairs as fast as safely possible, where Kagami’s waiting stiffly in the living room, and…wow. Just…wow.

“Kagami…” is all she can say. Sticking to her usual red and black theme, Kagami’s wearing a long-sleeved scarlet wrap top tied over what looks like a knee-length black dress, holding a pair of black shoes with a slight heel and a red clutch purse that looks brand new, as though purchased only because a fencing bag wouldn’t match her outfit. Topping off her outfit is the Dragon choker around her neck, blending in with Kagami’s palette so well that Marinette wouldn’t have even picked it as a Miraculous if she hadn’t known beforehand.

“Hello, Marinette,” Kagami says with an awkward smile. “You look very beautiful.”

“I – um – you thank – thanks, you too!” Marinette babbles. This is so unfair. How did she get three pretty people to like her?

“You’re sure about this, Marinette?” Sabine says, reaching out until Marinette crosses over and takes her hands, while Tom slides a thick arm around both of them. “When you told us that you’ve been dating Adrien…oh, we were so happy, because you’ve loved him for ages! But Luka and Kagami too? You’re sure this isn’t an experiment?”

“Mum!”

“We have to ask!” Tom holds his hands up. “Sabine and I don’t care how many people you date if it makes you happy, cupcake. We just want you to be sure.”

“I’m sure.” Marinette slips one hand free so that she can lean over and interlace her fingers with Kagami’s. Kagami’s cheeks flush and she looks down at the floor with a soft smile. “Trust me, I’ve torn my hair out over this for months now, and we’ve all talked about it and made sure we’re all on the same page. I like Adrien and Luka and Kagami, and I don’t want to have to choose one when we can all be happy together.”

Sabine smiles and rests her forehead against Marinette’s for a moment, just like she used to do when Marinette was a child. The familiarity of the action leaves Marinette breathless for a moment, transported back to the days when things were so…simple. When she wasn’t in love or putting on a magical spotted mask to fight a butterfly supervillain.

“So long as you’re sure, qiānjīn,” Sabine says. “You know your father and I will support you no matter what.”

“Even if that involves moving to New York and letting people make fun of our English,” Tom adds. Sabine rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Just get going,” Sabine says, letting go of Marinette’s hand. “Before your father pulls out the baby photos.”

“Great idea!” Tom claps his hands. “Where did I put them?”

“Nope!” Marinette yanks Kagami along. “Gotta go, bye, be back by ten!”

Kagami’s red car is waiting outside, and after she and Kagami slip their shoes on before stepping outside, it’s a mind-screw for Marinette when she peers inside as Kagami holds the back door open for her and she finds that there’s…no driver. What?

“Ah,” says a voice. Marinette almost jumps out of her skin upon noticing the woman sitting in the backseat, dressed in a loose, long-sleeved white blouse tucked into red pants, with dark shades covering her eyes. “You must be Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Um – hi!” Marinette waves, then gulps and lowers her hand when she realises that the woman can’t exactly see her action. “Yeah, that’s me! Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“Just be yourself,” Kagami whispers against the nape of Marinette’s neck as Marinette ducks into the car. “Treat her as you would any adult.”

“Tatsue, to the Scarlet Dragon restaurant,” Tomoe Tsurugi says once Kagami has shut the door after her and she and Marinette are buckled in.

“Very well, Ms Tsurugi,” says a robotic voice, and the car takes off smoothly from the sidewalk.

“Whoa,” Marinette breathes. “That’s so cool.” She shakes her head and offers her hand to Tomoe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Tsurugi.”

Tomoe’s grip is firm, self-assured without being overwhelmingly tight, and although the handshake only lasts for a moment, Marinette’s left very sure that this isn’t a woman she wants to cross.

“And what do you believe makes you worthy of my daughter, heir of the Tsurugi family?” Tomoe says. Marinette gulps.

“I, um…” she stammers. Kagami takes her hand and squeezes, injecting her with just enough courage to keep talking. “I’ve designed glasses and an album cover for Jagged Stone…Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois approved of my hat design…”

Tomoe clicks her tongue. “You talk with uncertainty. You speak of your achievements without letting them speak for you. What makes you worthy of Kagami?”

Marinette squares her shoulders. Tomoe wants a good brag? Well, she’s going to get it. “I don’t care about Kagami’s name,” she says. “Just like I don’t care about Adrien’s name, even though his backing could jumpstart my career. My uncle is a famous Chinese chef and I’ve made connections of my own merit. I’m creative enough to get out of sticky situations and I always keep my promises no matter the pressure, unless I physically can’t. I speak up when someone needs to raise their voice because all that’s necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing. And I promise you that even though Kagami can protect and speak for herself, I’ll always do everything in my power to protect her and stand up for her against evil, whether it’s an akuma or another person. I promise that even though I’m dating two other people as well and Kagami’s also dating one of them, I’ll never make your daughter feel left out or like she’s an afterthought. She’s just as important to me as my other two partners.”

Once she’s finished her speech, Marinette lets herself sag against the scarlet car seat, taking in gulps of air to try and balance the way her head’s starting to spin. Kagami’s firm grip is an anchor against the impassive face of Tomoe Tsurugi as she assesses Marinette, seeming to be able to peer straight into Marinette’s core despite being unable to physically see her. Then Tomoe gives the barest hint of a smile, and Marinette melts even further into the seat.

“Good,” Tomoe says. “Anyone can list what they’ve done, but not everyone can speak of who they are.”

“So…you approve of me?” Marinette says.

“I didn’t say that. It takes a lot to earn my approval, Miss Dupain-Cheng. But you don’t have my disapproval.”

“Um…thanks?”

The car ride to the restaurant is silent after that. Thankfully, before Marinette can begin to fear that Tomoe will join them inside and watch over Kagami on their date, Kagami bows and says goodbye to her mother and then shuts the car door.

“That was probably the scariest moment of my life,” Marinette laughs weakly as she and Kagami enter the restaurant. “I felt like she was going to eat me alive.”

“You did brilliantly, Marinette,” Kagami says. “You were confident and spoke highly of yourself without boasting. Mother will definitely like you eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Don’t worry. It took her a bit to warm to Adrien, and that’s with our parents being friends. It’s nothing that you did.”

Once they’re seated, Marinette’s tempted to grab a menu and pull the old nervous trick of hiding behind it to spend the whole date deciding what she wants to order. But no, after her speech in the car to Tomoe, she’s not going to just back down and give in to her anxiety now.

“I’m surprised she let you out in the first place,” Marinette says.

“So am I,” Kagami says. “But I think she feels that a romantic relationship is different enough from friendship. Her only condition was that she meet you and judge you herself. I’m just glad she didn’t care that I’m attracted to girls.”

“That was super brave of you, Kagami.” Marinette dares to reach across the table and link their fingers, and Kagami once more blushes and looks down with a small smile. Then she clears her throat and looks back at her menu.

“I’ll get the kamo nanban,” she says. “It’s my favourite dish. My comfort food, you could say.”

“Yeah, why try something new and risk not liking it when you can stick to what you know you like?” Marinette grins. Kagami nods rather vigorously and accidentally kicks Marinette’s leg under the table.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Kagami jerks back as though she’d been burned. “My apologies, Marinette.”

“Hey!” Marinette grabs Kagami’s hand again and smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring manner. “Don’t apologise. Never apologise for stimming, Kagami. You don’t have to mask around me.”

A rare, wide smile spreads across Kagami’s face. “Thank you, Marinette. I’ve never been given permission to, um…stim. I always get scolded for not being a proper young lady and I guess I just…forgot that I don’t have to pretend around my friends.”

Marinette smiles back at Kagami, then returns to figuring out what she wants to eat. “I’ll get the beef teriyaki,” she says after a moment, since it’s probably the only Japanese dish she’s ever eaten apart from instant ramen, which she’s pretty sure doesn’t count. “And I’ll just get a lemonade to drink.”

“So will I. Mother never lets me have sugary drinks like that.” There’s a small gleam in Kagami’s eyes as she adds, “I’m being a rebellious teenager and drinking lemonade.”

“That’s just sad,” Marinette giggles.

Once the waiter has arrived and taken their orders, the girls lapse into a comfortable silence. Kagami’s now freely playing footsies with Marinette under the table and rocking ever so slightly in her seat, a blissful little smile on her face, and the sight of her relaxed and open like this is so radiant that for a moment, Marinette can’t even remember her own name.

“You’re beautiful,” Marinette’s mouth says without permission. Now Kagami’s cheeks are as red as her top.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Kagami says and squeezes Marinette’s hand. “Not just for the compliment. Thank you for this date. I know we’ve all been open about our feelings but…there was still a part of me that was scared that I’d be the “spare” partner. You and Luka are similar but different, whereas I sometimes feel like I could be interchanged with Adrien, since we’re so incredibly similar. And Luka and Adrien were always options for you from the time you met them.”

“No! Never!” Marinette says immediately. “You’re not a female Adrien. You’re also similar but different, Kagami. And just because I fell for Luka and Adrien when I met them doesn’t mean that you’re any less important. I guess it was…well, easy to fall for them. But that doesn’t make you any lesser than them.”

“I know that rationally. It was just…hard to convince myself. For such a logical person, I can be quite irrational.”

“Yeah, it’s called being human,” Marinette says. “I meant what I said to your mother, Kagami. You’re just as important to me as Adrien and Luka, and I promise I’ll never leave you out or put my relationships with Adrien and Luka above ours. And I give you permission to slap me if I mess up.”

Kagami giggles. Has Marinette ever heard her giggle before? Laugh, yes, but never giggle. It suits her.

“I don’t think a slap will be necessary,” Kagami says. “But don’t worry, I will make my displeasure very obvious.”

“Good,” Marinette says. “You know what they say about “normal” people: they can’t communicate to save their lives.”

That one makes Kagami laugh so hard that she slumps in her seat and attracts odd looks from the middle-aged blonde couple sitting a few tables over. Whether it was the actual words or the air quotes, Marinette has no idea. All she knows is that she’s going to spend every moment of her life from now on trying to tease out this gorgeous laugh from Kagami whenever she can, and she’ll damn well die trying if it comes to that.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #kagami tsurugi #tom dupain #sabine cheng #tomoe tsurugi #kagaminette #autistic marinette #autistic kagami #kagaminette date

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space-blue · 3 years

Text

Artist and Hound

Iain Hund, former supernatural homicide detective, now mere magical vandalism inspector, feels the staleness of his car's air like a strangling hand upon his thoughts. He sends a last baleful glare at the wall he has pointlessly stalked for the past eight hours and starts his car to drive back to the station.

In all his years in the Sup-PD, Hund had never doubted his own righteousness. When the Harris case had come his way, he'd broken all the rules necessary to land the damn man behind bars and still felt like it was right. He had accepted his demotion as a cheap price to pay to save the public from the likes of Jack Harris. So when he put down his things on his new cramped desk at magical vandalism, and even after a year chasing Blues dealers, petty curse carvers, and weres doing their claws on public property, Iain Hund had remained serene. Regret bloomed in him when the Artist's case was made his top priority.

Tom, whom he shares his desk with, is a cold shoulder to cry on.

"No chance with this new stake-out then?" Met only by moody silence, Tom pushes a box of donut accross the desk. "You look like you need some."

"You eat donuts like a road cop."

"Well, those guys know what's up. Didn't you work with them, back in the day?"

"Yes," Iain sighs, dunking his hand in the proffered box, "and this case is the most pointless and disheartening task I've been given in my career, which includes these old patrols with the normal's police, writing tickets and shit."

"Come on, the Artist has been taunting us for years, but she can't be flawless. Guy with an ability like yours, what's that? Magikolour synaesthesia? Why go for stake-outs and CCTV? Why not make some traps? You've got more magical ability than this whole floor put together!"

"Tom, I'd need so many warrants for one trap, it's not ever happening. I think I got given this task as extra punishment. Something senseless to run after until I retire."

"What if they really think you can catch the vandal who's never been caught?"

"Why do they want that anyway? Because some loony normal might scrap some paint off a wall and somehow figue out there's something off with it? What am I to say to her if I catch her? 'You're under arrest for artistry. Your fingers will be broken... No, sorry, I mean, I need your address so we can send you fines!' Don't you think we'd all be better off with more art like hers in NY, and less wendigos or murderous weres I could put behind bars?"

"Hund, I don't wanna disappoint, but the world's been doing just fine without you. Also, moaning to me isn't getting you back into homicide and you know it. Artist is no murderer, maybe you've got to change your tactic, get original."

Iain, knowing good advice when he hears it, wonders about the changes he could make. The police, sup or normal's, has no name or face to put on the Artist. Even her gender is as good as the street word, rumours from the guy who knows a guy who's seen her.

Dusting donut crumbs from his notebooks, Iain peruses through weeks of drawings. When seen by normals or photographed, the Artist's work is static, if beautiful graffiti art. The drawings were to capture the details of what sups–anyone with a shred of magical ability–saw instead: myriads of images, sometimes a whole scene, with characters turning to the watcher, mouth opening in mute calls, sometimes the paint exploding out of the walls, pulling you in clouds of coruscant particles. In his book Iain has little boats on the calm waters of a lake, the face of a submerged god half hidden under lotuses; a pale man weeping liquid gold; a woman playing a sitar, each sound coming alive in the shape of a fantastical animal; a highway bridge pillar turned into an aquarium in which twirled a bigger-than-life mermaid; and many more. His notebook is far thicker than the case file ever was. In the last pages he finds the sketches made of a long mural of dancers. Their appearance changed depending on the angle you looked at it, a masquerade of shape-shifters. In it is a message for the man the Artist knows is on her trail, for hidden behind the legs of a dancer stands a black wolf-dog and though it has no collar, a golden tag gleams beneath its jaws, etched in the faintest strokes with the name Iain.

That's how she must see me: the law's dog on his invisible leash.

"Alright, let's get original."

"Mmh? Where are you going?"

"Hudson Heights. I'm gonna get friendlier with our local alchemists."

He leaves Tom to choke on his donut.

Alchemists have no claws or tooth to rend through you, but they don't need them. The power they wield, and their tendency for single minded obsession, makes them a prickly bunch, and the Sup-PD has a special unit for policing them. Iain's badge feels like a flimsy shield in his hand as he steps down from the sunny, all-American street and into the subterranean entrance to the alchemy quarters. The skills of the Artist and the finesse of her alchemical paints has already sent Iain deep inside those hidden galleries of shops and studios, where his questions revealed envy, admiration, and wholesalers of raw materials who did most business online and all proudly claimed her as a loyal customer, whilst unable or unwilling to prove anything.

The man at the entrance smiles at Hund.

"What do you want this time, cop?"

"Just visiting Toby Smith as a customer today." Iain grimaces. "Please."

The doorman grins sardonically, Smith being a famously irascible alchemist. He reaches for the door handle and applies his magic to it. To Iain it looks like a blue aura. A small displacement magic, that opens doors to other places. He nods his thanks and scuttles past and right into the maddening chaos of Toby Smith's shop.

"You again? What do you want now?" a disembodied voice asks from all corners.

Smith does business like this, never bothering to be present in the same room as his customers, his store guarded by an arsenal of curses that would make any hardened criminal as docile as a puppy.

"Paints."

"You're still after the Artist?"

"Ah, yes sir."

"You planning on defacing her work?"

"No sir. I–well, I like her work too. She caters to her fans though, and I thought, maybe, I can get to discuss with her somehow?"

Drawers open at invisible hands, glass jars and packets start drifting towards Iain.

"You're planning some sort of painting show-down? You've got guts Hund, I like it. Leave two hundred behind, follow the instructions on the packs, and work on your magic before mixing, unless you want blowing your moronic face off."

"Thanks sir."

"You're a better guy than I assumed."

"Sir?"

"Mixing paints to life is a tiny magic, but it's also very rare. The Artist has a unique gift. That someone with such a high grade magic as yours can appreciate her work is good. Maybe with you on her case she won't get wiped after all."

Iain mouth goes very dry.

"Wiped? Why would..."

His mind reels. It makes perfect sense now. Why bother with breaking fingers, indeed! Such a small gift, to breath life into a pot of already alchemical paint. It would take a tiny trap seal with her name on it to erase her magic as surely as if she were born a normal. He can picture his bosses, patting him on the shoulder. Good job Hund.

"Hund?"

"Thank you sir. For your honesty."

Iain goes home on autopilot, lost in his thoughts. He spends several evenings practising, and more building the final spell-works and paints before going out. He's mapped the Artist's work throughout Manhattan, and picked a wall she is likely to walk by. Finally he sits behind the wheel of his car and works a small shifting magic on his face. He has decided to go into the night to do what he's paid to stop. He feels shivers of anticipation and dread, a kinship and a respect stronger than ever before for the Artist who so inconspicuously prowls the nights.

He does her portrait, suggested, unfinished, broad strokes of paint revealing how little he knows of her. Sitting beside her stands a black hound with a golden tag, his muzzle resting in her lap, adoring eyes gazing up into her unpainted face waiting to be filled. Artist and Hound, he titles it.

A promise.

Two days later, Iain finds that the mouth of the Artist has been painted over in a slight smile.

~~ October 2018 – Theme : Small Magics

#original work #original story #competition #fantasy

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headcanonsandmore · 5 years

Note

Hello Headcanonsandmore!! could you do a dark lord! Hermione headcanon where Ron falls in love with her and turns her good? I would love some angsty romione!! Your work is great by the way!!

I personally don’t think Ron would ever fall for a dark lord version of Hermione, so here’s what I did with the nucleus of this idea. It’s kinda the backwards version of what you requested, but I hope you like nonetheless.

And since you requested angst....

(TWs are in the tags)

Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

The dark lord Hermione Granger rested back in her chair.

She always hated staying in this place. The long corridors and enormous rooms were a relic of the pureblood supremacist past. She knew that better than most people. She supposed this was the place where it had all started. When this huge house was still called “Malfoy Manor”.

The world had changed so much since then. The old order had been destroyed, and the British wizarding community had altered beyond all recognition.

Sure, there had been sacrifices that had to be made. But it was all for the cause. “For the greater good”, as Dumbledore had once put it. Granger hadn’t thought about that man in years; his weak-willed ways had long since stopped being an inspiration for Hermione. Too many had died. Tom Riddle had been wrong about most things, but he was fully correct on this matter; there was only power, and those too weak to seek it.

So Granger had done just that. She had taken power. So that no innocents would ever be pulled into the firing lines again.

This old house still made her uncomfortable, though. Not that she would ever show it; fear was for the weak. It was pointless to still have lingering fears about the place, especially after almost twenty years.

And besides, it was the perfect place to draw Potter into the open.

‘My lady?’

The door of the room opened.

‘We’ve apprehended Potter, ma’am. He was trying to apparate into the building, and the censors went off.’

Granger smiled at her subordinate.

‘You’re done well, Matthews.’

‘Thank you, my lady. Do you wish him to be sent to Azkaban?’

Granger deliberated, softly stroking her wand as she did so. It was a habit she had fallen into, but she loved her wand. It wasn’t her first wand, sadly; but it was the nearest thing. She had always had an affinity for dragon heart-string cores, and this particular one did not disappoint.

‘No,’ she finally said. ‘Bring him to me; I’d like to speak with him.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Matthews disappeared, and –in the distance- Granger could hear the sound of scuffling and raised voices.

Oh, Potter… she thought to herself… he always was one for theatrics, wasn’t he…

The door burst open, and a chained figure was thrown bodily to the ground in front of the dark lady’s chair. The figure awkwardly pulled himself up onto his knees. Granger reclined in her seat, surveying the man before her, as the door slammed shut again.

The intervening years had not been kind to Potter. The scar on his forehead was now one of a multitude covering his skin, and his arms were permanently bruised and battered. The dark hair was now speckled with premature greying, and the green eyes (that used to be so fiery) were now filled with a downcast world-weariness.

‘Potter, how lovely to see you again.’ Granger said, sipping some water from a nearby goblet. ‘We haven’t had a chance to catch up in a long time.’

Potter bit back an angry laugh.

‘Likewise.’ His voice was gruff and hoarse, as if he hadn’t slept properly in months. ‘Sorry I couldn’t bring any gifts; your friends don’t seem to like me that much.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind.’ The dark lady replied. ‘And they have their uses. By the sounds of it, you forgot about the apparation-detection spells. You never were one for thinking ahead, were you?’

‘Let’s just say I had someone I could rely on for that.’

‘Things change, though.’ Granger said. ‘You do realise that -as the saviour of the wizarding world- you get away with a lot more than other people would in your situation. Bad for morale if we executed the boy who lived, you see.’

Potter chuckled.

‘And here I thought you still had a soft spot for me, sister⸺’

‘I’m not your sister.’ Granger said, standing up. ‘Not for a long time. At least, those were your words on the matter.’

Potter let out a laugh. Angry and harsh.

‘Yeah. Ever since you started carting off innocent people to Azkaban, and executing anyone who stood in your way. No sister of mine would do that.’

‘I was never your sister to begin with, Potter.’ Granger replied, coolly. ‘We were allies, comrades⸺’

‘I was under the impression we were friends. Not that we were alone, of course. We had Ron as⸺’

There was a deafening crack, as Granger slapped him across the face. Blood trickled out of Potter’s mouth.

‘Don’t you dare say his name in my presence.’ Granger whispered. ‘Or I really will have you executed.’

‘Too much of a reminder of all you’ve done wrong, eh?’ Potter laughed, humourlessly. ‘Too much of a reminder that he would hate the person you’ve become⸺’

Another slap. Granger saw Potter’s face begin to redden.

‘I did all this for him.’ She said, tonelessly. ‘A better world. A better future.’

‘A better dictatorship.’ Potter muttered, his face beginning to swell. ‘You ever thought about changing your middle name to ‘Jane’ so you can match with Umbridge? Oh, wait, I forgot; we never found her body.’

‘I am nothing like Umbridge. She was too willingly to let innocents die for her own power.’

‘And yet you’re still sending innocent people off to Azkaban.’

‘That’s for re-education. We don’t torture them; the dementors were driven out of the place and destroyed.’

‘“Re-education”?’ Potter scoffed. ‘The irony is delicious.’

‘It’s rehabilitation. Everything is above-board.’

Potter went silent for a moment.

‘And the people we never found? What happened to them? Was that above-board, too?’

Granger let out a sigh.

‘Being a leader means making hard choices. Sacrifices needed to be made.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel any better.’

‘It’s the truth.’

Silence from Potter again. Then⸺

‘You know what the difference between you and Ron is?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Ron was willing to put his own head on the line⸺’

‘Shut up!’

‘⸺Ron never willingly let other people die just to save his own neck⸺’

‘SHUT UP!’

‘⸺He would have sacrificed himself before he let anything to me or you⸺’

‘I SAID SHUT UP!’

‘⸺And he did, didn’t he? He sacrificed himself to save you, and this is how you repay him⸺’

‘SHUT UP, POTTER!’

With a flash of her wand, Granger swiped across Potter’s face, leaving a great cut through the skin. Potter gave out a grunt of pain, and dropped to his knees.

Matthews and several others burst into the room, and roughly pulled Potter to his feet, but bent his head so that he was staring up at the dark lady. His glasses –broken and mangled- hung disjointedly off his nose.

‘You really think Ron would be proud of what you’ve created?’ Potter spat, blood streaming down his face. ‘This dictatorship? This dark regime? After all he did for us⸺’

‘I’ve created a country whose children will never have to go through what happened to us!’ Granger bellowed into his face. ‘Where good men don’t die throwing themselves into the firing line! Where no-one will ever lose the love of their life because of a pureblood supremacist with a knife!’

Potter struggled against the many arms holding him in place, and his face was lined with rage and renewed grief. Tears poured down his face, mixing with the blood from the raw cut.

‘Ron died because certain people decided that some lives aren’t worth as much as others! Because Tom Riddle decided that he knew best! How are you any different from that?’

There was a pause. Granger continued to breathe heavily, her eyes ablaze with fury.

‘Take him away!’ She yelled at her subordinates, and Potter was dragged towards the door, still struggling. ‘I hope you enjoy Azkaban, Potter!’

‘You said it yourself; the dementors were destroyed!’ Potter screamed. ‘Azkaban won’t hold me!’

‘Then I’ll capture you again and send you somewhere else!’

‘Oh, please! Admit it; you just want to avoid reminding yourself of your own guilt! Because you know Ron would never want this! He loved you, he loved you so much, he loved you more than he loved himself; he died in your arms on that beach!⸺’

‘SHUT UP!’

The door slammed behind Potter as he was dragged out, and Granger was once again alone. She always had been alone, even as a child. She was used to it.

The dark lady leaned against the desk that was placed against the wall. Looking down, she saw the untidy scrawl that she could always recognise, no matter how much time had passed. The same two initials, scratched into the woodwork as a permanent memory that he had existed. There were several ‘Chudley Cannons’ stickers still attached to the old wooden surface. It reminded her of times long since gone; of Quidditch matches in orchards, of sharing sweets on the Hogwarts Express, and the freshly mown grass of the Devon countryside. And of the sweet, brave, kind-hearted boy she had given her heart to.

All she had created in the years since had been necessary. So that what happened during the last war would never happen again. It had all been necessary… right?

Emotion did not show on Granger’s face, but -in a small part of her heart that she had long since closed off- a teenage girl with bushy hair sobbed, crying the name of the red-headed boy she had loved and lost.

~~~~~~~

Thanks for the request, anon; I hope you liked it, despite it not being quite what you asked for.

Yes, I’m crying too at the idea of a universe without Ron Weasley. Why do you think I couldn’t bare to make this ficlet any longer? I just love Ron too much to write a lot about a universe where he’s dead. *sobs*

#ask #anon #request #i'm not crying YOU'RE crying #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #angst #tw: physical violence #tw: physical abuse #tw: physical trauma #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: grief #vivithefolle is gonna kill me for this.... i'm so sorry vivi i hate the idea of a ron-less universe as well

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storiesofwildfire · 4 years

Text

UPDATED: 02/07/2020

This is an independent roleplay blog for Loki Laufeyson based primarily off of a mixture of Norse Mythology, Marvel, and God of War 2018. I am not in association with Marvel or Sony and claim no profits from this blog. This is also not a fandom blog, meaning most of the posts will be in-character responses to threads and asks. All reblogs will be in relation to Loki or any of the characters or ideas that make up their world. IMPORTANT INFO ON LOKI: It's extremely important to keep in mind that Loki is a gender fluid shape-shifter and may appear in any number of forms and genders at any given time. Loki has very few limits on what they can do with their body and they will not always appear to other muses as MCU's Tom Hiddleston version of Loki. This can and will include variations to Tom Hiddleston's Loki, Lady Loki, Jotun Loki, and many other forms. Loki may be male, female, both, or neither at any given point in time. It is up to me and my discretion of when to implement Loki's shape-shifting abilities. Bottom line, don't expect Loki to be a cis-male who is always in a completely male form. It's out of character and simply won't happen and even if Loki presents male or female, that does not mean that Loki's body beneath the clothing matches that presentation. Assume nothing.

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This blog is selective and private, meaning I will be selective with who I interact with and/or follow and I will only roleplay with mutuals. My ask box and my IMs are open to non-mutuals, however. If I’m not following you, but you’d like to interact, don’t be afraid to shoot me a message. If we talk and I like you, chances are, I’ll follow you back. If you want to send a random ask, feel free. You don’t have to my mutual to use my ask box. I can be an extremely slow roleplayer at times. Please understand that this is a hobby and while I love what I do, I cannot be here all the time. Sometimes IC replies and OOC replies will come slowly. I am also a writer outside of Tumblr, so sometimes my personal and professional projects have to come first and often suck up a lot of my creative energy. That said, I am not on Tumblr at all during the weekends. Starting Friday night and usually extending to Sunday night/Monday morning, I log out of Tumblr completely. This is because I am typically very busy on the weekends, but also because I need to take a step back from Tumblr once in a while just to keep my sanity. I'm more motivated to write on the days I promise to be here if I can look forward to a few days off at the end of the week. It's just to give me some peace of mind and a bit of breathing room. On days I am not on Tumblr, I am likely still on discord--which is available for mutuals upon request! Sometimes my blog will update through a queue so it is still active even when I am not physically on. I do this regularly but not consistently. If you're curious as to whether or not something is a queued post, you can check my tags. All queued posts have a queue tag on them!

SIDE MUSES

I actually roleplay as more than just Loki on this blog. It also includes four of Loki’s children ( the children I have chosen to incorporate from mythology ); Hel, Fenrir, Jörmungandr, and Sleipnir. There are also a mixture of secondary muses that help make up Loki’s world. Most of these characters are the mun’s original characters, but canon characters like Fandral ( I loooooove writing Fandral! ) may show up on occasion. It’s important to remember that this blog is a Loki-oriented blog, though. While I do roleplay as numerous secondary characters, this is not meant to be interpreted as a multi-muse blog. If you would like to interact with any of my secondary characters, chances are, you’ll need to interact with Loki first. I do, however, love getting to use my secondary characters, so if you're interested in them, please let me know! It's also important to remember that while some of these characters are canon to either mythology or Marvel, they are my own interpretation of them and may not 100% be accurate to canon. While canon characters do exist in the side muses, most of them are original characters and are not available for public use. These are my characters, my ideas, and my world-building. Please do not use them without permission or claim any information as yours.

PREFERENCES & HATE

I do not roleplay with anyone under the age of 18. It's nothing personal to the younglings of Tumblr, but for my own personal comfort, I'd rather keep my interactions to 18+ only. I prefer plotting over jumping into an interaction that has no basis. Memes are great and I love them, but I have very little interest in maintaining threads that have no substance. I prefer novella threads, but I am willing to do shorter para threads as well. i am not willing to do one-liners. A thread has to have some meat to it in order to hold my interest. I do not tolerate hate at all. Anonymous or not, I will not deal with hate directed at me or any other person. NSFW (meaning sex, violence, torture, gore, and other adult themes) will be present. I roleplay a large range of topics, including very dark and sensitive subjects. I do not personally have many triggers when it comes to what I am willing to explore on this blog. Dark themes will be very present. I will not censor my muse but I will tag triggering content accordingly. I tag by a 'tw; triggering content title' system. Self harm, for example, would look like this: tw; self harm

SHIPPING

Simply put, I love shipping, but it's not the sole reason I'm here. If I ship, I prefer to ship in a setting that's well thought out and plot-driven. The ship is great, but there needs to be more than just the ship. I don't ship for the sake of shipping and I only ship based on chemistry. If you want to ship with me but don't know how to approach the subject, just send me a message and we can discuss it!

WHAT KEEPS ME FROM FOLLOWING?

Blogs who have no about page. This is the essence of a character. Without it, I have no idea if I would be interested in your muse or not. This is staple for canons and OCs. Anyone who makes me feel like a number. I do not expect anyone to make me an exclusive partner. You are more than welcome to roleplay with dupes, but I do not want to be added to a collection. I am an individual, not a collector’s item. Valuing unique portrayals is so important Non-roleplay-blogs/self inserts. People who I have witnessed abusing or attacking other role-players. If you have an issue with another role-player, handle it in private. Do not attack them publicly. I have been a victim of “call-out culture” and I will not deal with it. I understand that some call-out posts are necessary to warn people of harmful people and toxic environments, however, more often than not, I see call-out posts that throw around false accusations and complain about personal problems rather than actual, problematic behavior. Unless undeniable proof is provided, I will never be part of the culture of publicly slandering someone. To follow up on that last point, if I see a lot of ooc drama and constant negativity on a blog, I won't follow. People who godmod. If you do godmod me, I will message you about it. If you are unwilling to discuss the issue, the thread will be dropped. Anyone who thinks they have the right to tell me or anyone else what they can and cannot do with their blogs. Roleplaying is about writing and exploring a wide variety of topics. Fiction is not reality. A muse’s actions are not the mun condoning said actions. If you cannot understand that fiction is a way for writers to explore things outside of everyday life, dark or otherwise, this is not the blog for you.

EXCLUSIVES

Being exclusive is something that I am willing to do, but on very rare occasion. It takes a lot of personal love and interaction with a mun to be willing to make them exclusive with my muse. This isn't just about IC interactions being amazing, but also an OOC connection with the other mun as well. An exclusive status will only be offered if it is returned. If you are my exclusive, I am yours. EXCLUSIVES LIST: THISFORGOTTENLORE - Bigby Wolf, Brienne of Tarth, Bruce Banner & Hulk, Geralt, Heimdall, Illya Kuryakin, Jaskier, Khal Drogo, Kratos, Robert Jekyll & Hyde, The Iron Bull, Yennefer OFCHARREDBONES - Johnny Blaze FANDRALXTHEXSTABULOUS - Fandral If you would like to talk about being an exclusive and we already interact, please feel free to shoot me a message!

ABOUT THE MUN

Hi there! My name is Amber and I'm in my mid-twenties. I've just finished up a master's degree in creative writing for entertainment, meaning I take great pride and joy in writing stories in just about any sort of medium. I primarily focus on prose (as demonstrated by this blog) and film/television scripts, but I also dive into comics and other mediums from time to time. I've been roleplaying Loki for over six years now. They have truly become my life-long muse and they even inspires my off-Tumblr projects quite a lot. Aside from Loki, I do have a long history of both writing and roleplaying including a number of canon characters and original characters. I'm not going to go on and on about myself because I don't want to bore you! Just know that I'm very friendly, kind of shy, and if you want to write with me and you come at me wanting to plot, I will probably be over the moon about it. I thrive on plotting and world-building and if you have an interest in doing those things with me, we'll get along great. If you would, by chance, like to know more about me and why I roleplay as Loki, you can click HERE and HERE. I do run a couple of blogs ( though Loki is my main! ). You can find all of them here: LOKI LAUFEYSON ( and supplement characters ) - STORIESOFWILDFIRE. MULTI-MUSE - GRIMOIREWEAVERS

CREDITS

Background, popup background, and mobile header graphics made by the incredible and lovely Smudge ( aka thisforgottenlore ), tweaked by myself. Background art by the extremely talented SCEITH-A. Popup background and mobile header art by the equally as talented ROSSDRAWS. Personal graphics, unless stated otherwise, were made by myself. Icons are a mixture of free-to-use icons (and gifcons) found and reblogged on Tumblr and my own personal icons which were editted from raw screen caps and created by me.

#outofmagic #rules #rules text post #index; blog #filed under; about the blog #filed under; blog updates #index; mun #filed under; about the blogger #filed under; mun things #{ was updating my rules on my multi and decided... I probably needed to update them here too #and I did #because my old ones were way too long and some stuff just wasn't too concise #basically #don't be a dick #don't tell people what they can and cannot do as long as they aren't hurting anyone #miss me with drama #and don't force loki into a cishet box cause that ain't gonna fly #otherwise let's just have fun! }

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wolfpawn · 4 years

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Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 58

Chapter Summary - Tom thinks over everything that happened the day before and realises there will be a lot of changes for their little family. This Christmas is full of presents.

WARNING - CONTAINS REFERENCES TO PAST POST-NATAL DEPRESSION

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @theoneanna

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Tom woke earlier than usual, the darkness outside told him that it was not even approaching sun-up yet. He felt Alexianna move slightly in the bed beside him, sighing in her sleep before settling and continuing to breathe deeply. He thought of the day before and the life-changing events of those few hours.

A baby, they had created a child together. Inside Alexianna’s body, a small grouping of cells, the result of their actions as a couple, were developing and dividing to create a completely unique little human being, according to the pages he read online while he waited patiently in the car for her, at least. He thought of the night they were in his home alone while Lily stayed with her uncle in their home; but he also recalled Alexianna’s words regarding Jonathan and how she had never felt good with him, as well as her annoyance that she had conceived Lily without having enjoyed the act with her husband. He knew she had enjoyed creating their baby. The fact that there was no one in the house beside themselves meant they did not have to cautious of the noise they were making meaning he had encouraged her to be vocal with how she felt and he was satisfied that he, as a partner, had made her feel good. The way she curled against him after, her arm on his abdomen, the smile and caring look on her face, the way he had felt for her, the loving words shared, it all told him even at that time how much they truly cared for one another. Now, their words and actions had even greater meaning. They had a baby as a result, they had made a baby.

He always felt they would have a child together, further down the road. Alexianna’s declaration of never having any more had long fizzled to ‘ifs’ and ‘when’. The clothes Lily had grown out of yet she did not discard were in the attic of his house. He wondered would they be used again. Would the little pinks and dresses have another little girl don them, or would they be left there, only to have blues be added to them as a little boy outgrew them? His heart pounded in his chest, a son, a little boy to carry the Hiddleston name after him, to do things with as his father had done with him or a daughter, a beautiful little princess, just like her sister, who would have him at her beck and call, playing her Daddy as Lily did, two girls that would argue like rabid wolves one moment but fight so valiantly for one another the next, just as his sisters did. Either one was something he would yearn for, the gender would never matter as much as its health did. He didn’t care what they had, so long as it was healthy. He did not plan this, and yes, Alexianna had been right in some respects, the timing was not as good as it could be. She would be ill on the run-up to her exams and the job timing was not perfect but they were able for this and knowing that come the end of it all, they would have their baby, it was worth it, he felt.

He knew Alexianna was wary of it all and he would hamper a fairly good guess why. Marie had conditioned her from youth to see pregnancy as a negative thing, nothing, to Marie, was worse than coming home pregnant, that she instilled in her, so of course, Alexianna could not help but think such thoughts on the matter. Then with Jonathan, she clearly did not want to have his child. She stated on many occasions her heartbreak when she realised she was pregnant, the fear she felt daily as a result of waiting to see what would happen, knowing the monster that was her husband behind the happy facade. His dismissal of her whilst and for her pregnancy. Giving out to her for being ill, tired and hormonal, three aspects of pregnancy that were practically non-negotiable side effects. All women suffered such during the ten months of gestation, yet Alexianna was expected not to by a man that did not care for her. Then after it all, when she was still in theatre, having just been through major abdominal surgery, he had managed to outdo his previous cruelty and leave her and the baby he forced into her without so much as a packet of nappies, adding the salt to the wound of calling her names because he didn’t like that fate had decided the sperm to fertilise the egg to be an X Chromosome one, leading to a little girl, the most incredible and amazing little girl he ever had the honour to meet. She was perfect; smart, sweet, funny, playful, loving, caring, kind, her list of good traits was endless. He knew she would be the best big sister, that come what may, she would love her brother or sister and no matter what, he would continue to show her how much he loved her. This baby would never replace her, it would not trump her, be more important than her, it was only adding to their little family and he knew that he needed to show her that when the time came to tell her. He knew it could not be too soon, mostly because forty weeks is a long time and Alexianna had already made it clear she wanted to get as far through it as possible before telling people, outside of the immediate family but even at that, she requested they wait a few more weeks before saying anything, she stated with Lily, she was too ill to deny her condition, so they would simply keep it under wraps until a better suited time. Lily, as is common with children, would not be able to contain her excitement and could easily tell everyone around her the news before they were ready, it was necessary to not tell her anything until the time was right. She asked regularly about it, to him more than her mother, as Alexianna dismissed it outright whilst he said “Not yet”. He also knew he had to show Alexianna that he was not Jonathan and this pregnancy was not a bad thing. He would make her see the joy she had referenced seeing other women have while she was pregnant before was the norm and make her feel as happy for this pregnancy. He would show her how it was meant to be.

He had watched for the rest of the day after they returned to the house to see if Alexianna was as confident with the decision as he hoped. She took her multivitamin and folic acid in the car and brought the vitamins to the room when they arrived back so that his mother would not find them. She ate well and most certainly did seem to be thinking of the baby, switching to decaf tea and ensuring to eat even healthier than she usually did. He could not understand how both forms of protection had failed, they were both so careful, but as he felt his hand gently brush over Alexianna’s currently flat stomach, he was glad they did.

“It’s not going to grow overnight.” Her voice was heavy with sleep. “Go back to sleep, Lily will wake us all early, trust me.”

“Sorry.” Tom pulled her to him. “Did I wake you?”

“No, the need to turn around did...My boobs hurt.” She curled in so she had her nose to his chest, noting his natural scent soothed her and made her want to rest more. “This won’t be fun.”

“I am here for you, all the way through.” He kissed her temple. “No matter what.”

“Nine months is a long time.”

“I am talking far longer than nine months, pregnancy I cannot help as much with but I will do what I can, after that, I will assist even more.” He kissed her head again and got comfortable, knowing that in a few hours time, their day would be more than a little busy.

“Daddy! Mommy! wake up!”

Tom smiled as he woke, seeing Lily rush to him and shaking him slightly. “What is it, Princess?”

“Santa came.”

“Lil’s, didn’t I tell you not to go downstairs without us?” Alexianna stretched as she spoke to her daughter.

“But, Mommy, Santa!”

“But Lily, sleep!” her mother jested. “That’s a grown-up’s Christmas present.”

Lily giggled. “That’s a boring Christmas present.” She jumped up onto the bed, right next to her mother.

Immediately, Tom felt himself go into a form of guarding mode he had never experienced before. He watched as Lily got excited and began to jump around. “Lily, relax a little sweetheart, mind Mummy.”

“Daddy, I want to play.” She jumped around again.

Tom rushed forward and caught her just as she came close to accidentally falling on Alexianna. “Lily, careful.” Lily looked at him, hurt at his scolding her. Tom wanted to tell her off more for risking hurting her mother but he stopped himself, reminding himself that Lily was entirely oblivious to the fact there was a reason to not play with her mother in a manner she had done before but he also reminded himself it was Christmas morning, of course, she was excited. “We cannot wind Mummy, alright? We need her to be okay.”

“Otherwise we have no breakfast.” Lily nodded sagely.

Tom and Alexianna stared at her silently for a few seconds before both began to laugh. “I know where I stand in this.” Alexianna scoffed. “Food bringer.”

“An integral role, really. Tom chuckled. “Come on, let’s get up and see what Santa brought.”

Tom and Alexianna got dressed as Lily rushed to the bathroom. “Tom?” He turned to face Alexianna. “Thank you for stopping her falling on me but…”

“I know, she doesn’t know.” He nodded. “If she did, you wouldn’t be allowed do anything.”

“She is small, excited and it is Christmas Day, so of course, she is not paying full attention.”

Tom thought for a moment. “Perhaps if we tell her you’re still feeling a bit off since yesterday, she will be less inclined to jump up at you.” He suggested as Alexianna stretched and groaned. “Are you okay?”

Alexianna realised at that moment that for the remainder of her pregnancy, and she suspected a considerable time after, Tom was going to be fretting. “I am fine, my breast hurt because my body is literally pouring hormones out at the rate of knots.”

Tom gently pulled her to him one-armed, making sure not to pull her into him so to not apply pressure to her breasts. “I wish it did not cause you to suffer so.”

“I know, but it is what it is. Now, come on before a certain nutter of a daughter of ours opens her presents without us.”

Smiling at Alexianna referencing Lily as “our” daughter and not simply hers, even with everything else, Tom pulled her to the door of the bedroom. On opening it, he was startled to see his sister walking down the hallway. “Did Lily wake you?” He asked.

Emma and Jack had planned to spend Christmas with his family, but as his niece was at his parents house and was currently covered in chicken pox, it was decided that he and Emma would not risk carrying the virus back on a plane with them for public health reasons, so the day before, Emma rang her mother who was elated to have them instead. “No, we woke…” Tom gave her a raised brow. “Okay yes, she woke us with talk of Santa, so we want to see what he got her too.” She smiled as she looked at her brother and her friend. “Is everything alright?” she noted the slightly grimacing face of Alexianna.

“Yes, I am still a bit off since yesterday.” Alexianna decided to go with Tom’s suggestion. “I feel a bit sick.”

“I am not really myself at the moment either.” Emma nodded in solidarity. “Come on, before Lily has an aneurysm waiting for us.”

Smiling, the adults descended the stairs to see Lily hopping up and down with excitement, the sitting room doors, the location of the presents so meticulously placed there the night before by her mother and an overexcited Tom, still closed as Diana presided over things, preventing the eager Lily from rushing in without her parents, Jack was to the side, boiling the kettle to make the teas for everyone.

“So, I think we should have some tea and breakfast first,” Alexianna stated nonchalantly as she walked to the kettle.

Lily’s face fell as she thought of the length of time adults took to drink hot beverages before she saw the smile on her mother’s face. “Mommy!” She giggled as her mother beamed back at her as Tom took her hand and walked towards the door.

“Ready?” She nodded before he opened it and looked at her face as she processed the scene in front of her. Her eyes lit up as she looked at the gifts waiting for her. She immediately rushed in with a high pitched squeak of joy, her focus going to the black stuffed toy which sat on top of the majority of the rest of her presents and cuddling it tightly to her chest. When she turned around again, she walked over to Tom and leant in against him. “Lil’s?” He asked.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Her voice was strained as she wept.

“What do you mean?” He leant down to look at her.

“I forgot to ask Santa for a Toothless teddy and it was too late to send a new letter, and you are the only grown-up I told and you said that if you saw a Toothless you would get him and now he’s here and I have him and I love him so much.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks at the joy of getting the stuffed toy, resulting in Tom pulling her to him and encasing her in his arms, feeling a swelling in his chest as he realised how much he adored the little girl in front of him more and more each day.

He smiled lovingly as she cuddled and kissed the dragon. “I am glad you like him, Princess but I think he would love to see what else you got.”

Nodding, Lily turned and looked at the other toys, cautiously opening the first one as she attempted to hold onto the dragon at the same time, which was considerably sized in her small arms. She tore the paper and smiled excitedly at the horse figurines from the movie she played ad nauseam, the golden horse she spent more time pretending to be than anything. The next item confused her. It was clearly clothing, so she opened it with a furrowed brow and looked at it. “Pants?”

“They’re jodhpurs.” Her mother explained. Lily had no idea what the word her mother just used meant. “They are horse-riding pants.” Lily looked at her mother in shock. “Uncle Dan, Daddy and I think it is time you stopped pretending to ride horses and actually take a few lessons. What do you think?”

“I...I get to ride a horse? A real horse, like Spirit?”

“A more real horse than Spirit. Though it would be more of a pony at your age, but Emma and I were not much older than you when we started and it’s time for you to begin to do a few after school activities and such, so this is the best one to start with, we know you have the interest.” She smiled as she explained it to her daughter.

For a time, Alexianna and Tom discussed Lily and the need for her to have interests outside of schooling. They discussed what classes would suit her as well as what would interest her most. She was lithe by nature but small, dance was an option but Alexianna had seen the negative aspects of it while she was in school, one of the girls she knew well had developed a severe eating disorder as a result of her dance teacher’s attitude. Tom thought drama to be a good fit on a few levels for Lily. She was animated and enthusiastic but it also boosted confidence, something everyone should have in his opinion. They were currently deciding on others to put forward to her as her options, not wanting to force her into anything, but they knew horse riding was a must and had made arrangements accordingly.

The presents continued to be opened, more than Lily had ever received before as Tom insisted in spoiling her. Nothing was overly extravagant but he did insist on getting her a few things of practical use as well as her main toys, such as puzzles, books and other such things, much to Lily’s joy.

Tom and Alexianna smiled as Lily began to play with her toys, making the horse figurines talk as she enacted one of her favourite scenes from the movie. Emma had gone to get her present to her mother, Jack was currently in the bathroom and Diana had gone to get a fresh cup of tea as they watched Lily play.

“Was it what you wanted, seeing her this morning?” Alexianna asked.

Tom smiled. “So much better than I had hoped.”

“Scary to think next year will be different.” Tom looked at her worriedly before Alexianna leant in and whispered to him. “There will be a small, unable to sit unaided baby to add to it.” She bit her lips together after she said it.

Tom’s mind raced forward to the following Christmas and the idea she had just put into his mind. He could not help but smile at the thought. What also caught his attention was how Alexianna spoke about it. It was not the same fear she seemed to have the day before, there was a slight apprehension, a worry in her voice, he could hear that, but the smile she gave, one of hope and dare he think it, of excitement that caused him to think she was embracing the pregnancy. He pulled her close to him and gave her a kiss, hoping to silently portray his joy at that, both worried that anyone would hear their news before they decided to share it.

Only a moment later, Emma reentered the room, a box in her hand and an excited look on her face. “Mum, I have something for you here.” A moment later, Diana entered the room and sat in her favourite chair. “It’s a weird present, but the note inside will explain it.” She passed the box to her mother and waited, Jack by her side. Diana opened the box curiously, noting the light weight of it before pulling apart the light paper within and looking at the small pair of shoes inside. Taking out the folded over piece of paper, Diana read it and felt her eyes fill with tears.

“What’s wrong Nana?” Lily asked worriedly, rushing over to her grandmother, concerned by her tears.

“Well, see this piece of paper?” Lily nodded. “It says, 'Dear Nana, I cannot wait to meet you but I have to wait another few months. I am due on the 13th of July but being half Hiddleston, I will most likely be late'.”

Lily listened to Diana’s words before frowning. “But...what does that mean?”

“It means that auntie Emma has a baby in her belly and that you will get a new cousin this summer,” Tom explained, giving his sister a huge smile. “Congratulations.” He walked over and hugged her before doing the same with Jack.

“I am getting a cousin?” Lily asked.

“Yes,” Emma smiled.

Lily spent another moment processing the words before jumping up and down in excitement. “This is the best Christmas ever, in the whole wide world!" Lily declared loudly. “Can I help with the baby when it gets here? I can get the nappies and the powder, I promise I won’t wake it, I'll be super quiet.”

Emma smiled and hugged Lily tightly. “I would love for you to help when we are all at Nana’s, but it will be very small.”

“Of course it will, it’s a baby.”

The manner in which Lily made her statement implied she thought that Emma should have been more aware of that fact and that she was informing the woman of something very obvious, causing the adults to laugh as Diana embraced her daughter and thanked her for the wonderful gift.

When Emma turned to Alexianna, the other woman smiled at her, knowingly. “You knew?” Emma looked at her in shock.

“I sort of figured it out last night,” Alexianna confessed.

“What gave it away?”

“A few things really, the biggest of which being you giving out to Jack that you had morning sickness for Christmas and him saying how going to his family was definitely a bad idea because of the risk to the baby.” She smiled.

Emma could only nod back. “I suppose that would give it away, yes.”

Alexianna embraced her friend. “I am so happy for you both.” Alexianna had been one of the very few people Emma had informed that she was actively trying to have a baby, for a year, she and Jack had no luck, she had even made an appointment with a fertility specialist regarding it.

“You’ll help me through this, won’t you?” Emma asked, fearful of all the terrifying stories that people seem to be obsessed with telling actively trying-to-be and expectant mothers, knowing her friend would not do the same.

“Every step of the way,” Alexianna swore.

#Life is a Game of Risks #chapter 58 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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thescorpioracesfestival · 4 years

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Week 1 - Challenges 1-3 (Kind Of)

@sailingthroughemotion - Jen and Realist This story is continued from the 2018 festival. Check out the #tsrf2018 tag on my blog, if you’re curious (but it’s not necessary).

Huo and I have been busy. And, no, not in that way. Although maybe not without that, but we’ve hardly got enough time to even put a second thought into that because our schedules are constantly jam-packed.

Our winter was spent mostly coasting - my parents had left me a healthy amount of money which Huo and I split into improving his house a bit to accommodate for aging Jax, who was starting to get a bit fed up with the boarding life, and fixing up my motorcycle. It was enough to pay for electricity for a good while, so I opted for taking shorter shifts at the butcher’s so I could work more on the house and with Realist. He doesn’t get to sit after the race season like he had the year prior - any signs of previous injuries are nothing but distant memories, so I continued to work with him. He’s a young, healthy stallion - he could use the muscle and the brain food. After Huo’s final reconciliation with Blue, he has seemed to have gotten over his aversion to capaill, and after we put the finishing touches on Jax’s backyard resort, he even opted for using Realist as his “ranch” horse. It’s quite a sight to behold, really - a pint-sized capall under a slightly archaic Western saddle with a slightly too-tall Thisby islander settled onto him. I am quite relieved that Realist doesn’t throw a fit about the different saddle or the new rider. Huo does ride differently - he doesn’t play around and debate with Realist like I do, but rather just works with him straight on. It’s a functioning system and sometimes I find myself quite fond of how supple Realist is under a tom-thumb bit. Our spring was spent in a similar fashion, except Realist had become virtually Huo’s horse, and when I wasn’t at the shop or tuning the motorcycle, I was tending to Jax’s arthritic needs. During my brother’s visit, he acquired himself a horse with a distant capall lineage that was suitable for export and agreed to start working our family’s Thoroughbred farm again. Business was rolling in for them again, I guess, so I was welcome to the funds some more, meaning I could get some nicer riding gear and have enough to pay for the insane import prices on some of the supplements Jax desperately needed. Jax is a sweet old man - it’s easy to see how he and Huo have been coworkers for so long, and evening now and again I layer on a few extra blankets under my English saddle and take him for a spin around the pasture. He’s stiff and he doesn’t have the same dangerous energy that a capall does, but he’s still a pleasure to mess around with. Huo, too, hasn’t been empty-handed. When he’s not steering Realist through his sheep, he’s working on his truck, and if the truck is up and running, he’s coursing to Skarmouth and back to sell his wool and some of his lambs. I can definitely say that it’s been nice. We have a comfortable routine, and although sometimes it gets a bit monotonous, it’s at the very least a rhythm rather than chaos. I happen to be one of the few people on Thisby that can say that they have nothing to fear - the whole island may want me dead (it’s been proven every single time I’ve tried to step foot around the races), but as long as I am just living along with this hunk of grass and rock, topped with a generous amount of sand, I can most certainly say that I haven’t got a single thing to complain about. — My knuckles ache from writing with a piece of chalk all evening and I’ve lost count of how many names I’ve written down. A few of the men and women that recognize me ask me if I’m planning on taking another year off while a few of the boys and girls that don’t, look at my scars and ask me if I’ve ever ridden. I recount my evening to Huo as we lay sprawled on the bed, half-reading forgotten letters. Huo is unusually quiet. “I don’t think I’m going to waste my time this year,” I continue anyway, scoffing. “That stupid race has nearly cost me my life twice now and for what? Spare change?” More silence. And then, “I ran Realist this morning.” I can already tell where this one is going and I’m ready to roll my eyes when what he says next catches me completely off-guard. “Some passing couple recognized him.” “From what?” I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t uncommon to see capaill surface and disappear and surface again. I mostly hoped that it was from the races - I wouldn’t want somebody making claims about a horse they lost some number of years ago. “From when you trained Kaitlyn,” he said it so coldly that my heart almost jumped to my throat. I had never told him about Kaitlyn. I only turned back after crossing the finish line with the excuse that she had been ‘just someone I thought I recognized’; I only went ot her funeral under the guise of it having been a surprise shift at the butcher’s and that had been a public service, as most race-casualty services often were, so I didn’t recognize any of the people there. My hear began to beat loudly against my ribcage. “H-her parents?” I stammered. Huo gave me the barest of nods. “How did the find out?” My voice suddenly sounded small, timid. “Her diary,” Huo said with a dry laugh. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, Huo, I-” my breathing began to hitch in my throat - to live under one roof with a man and not tell him about the possibility of a horribly miscalculated risk… “That’s not what I’m…” he exhaled through his nose and tried again. “That’s not the issue. They want an explanation. They want some kind of compensation.” “They’re trying to frame me for murder,” I said out-loud what I knew I never shoudl have. “Thisby laws protect capall owners, but they don’t protect trainers,” Huo continued. “No, hold on - do they think that I forced her to catch that thing?” I sat up, wild-eyed. “That’s not the point, Jen, you can’t just run head-first at this, listen to me,” he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You signed the entry form for her, didn’t you?” “Yes, but I-” “Her parents didn’t even know she was racing, Jen!” Huo’s voice was so thoroughly steeped with disappointment that I just wanted to fall through the floor then and there. “But she told me…” my eyes began to fill with tears of frustration. The cognitive dissonance between grieving for Kaitlyn’s death and wanting to blame her for what was slowly registering as the end of the world was tearing me apart. “She kept talking about her brother, and…” “She was an only child,” Huo’s voice softened a bit and he finally sat up and gathered me into his arms. For the first time in a while, he smelled of horse sweat. He really did run Realist. “She lied to you, she lief to her parents, she lied to everyone.” I began to sob like a small child. Not the usual polite, bottled anguish I would usually put myself through to make sure I was silent, but instead helpless, uncontrollable wailing. I was both terrified and awashed with a new wave of grief. Not for the blonde-haired girl with the determined eyes but for the big-withered raven black mare that had the heart to die for her. I thought of Realist and how he longed only for my company and not the lulls of the ocean. I thought of Jax and how many years he’s served and how little he probably has left. And Huo held me, and he let me cry, and let me cling to him like I was not his strong, equally grounded girlfriend, but like I was sickly, toddler-aged granddaughter. Once I felt like I could breathe again I got myself a glass of water and Huo and I stood like coast-worn statues in the darkness of the kitchen. “How much do they want as compensation?” I managed, trying not to hide my disgust at the fact at calling monetary value ‘compensation’ for a human life. “Some… twenty thousand, thirty?” he scratched the back of his head. “Good lord,” I smiled, although I didn’t know why. “And if we - if I don’t pay it back…?” This was my problem, not Huo’s, if I hadn’t thought to tell him of this earlier, why should I have to drag him into it now? “They’re taking it to the mainland court. They family’s not from Thisby.” “Fucking Christ!” I exclaimed, feeling the animalistic urge to shatter the cup I was holding but somewhere deep inside, my sensible, grounded, equestrian self pulled back on the reins. — The road to Skarmouth that night felt like the road to purgatory. Most lights were off or dimmed, only the caterwaul of distant capaill and the perpetual crashing of waves gracing the stillness. I unlocked the back of the butcher’s and carefully snuck my way behind the counter desipte knowing that I was the only one there. I felt a deep need for secrecy, for if anyone found out the real reason I was actually putting my life on the line in these island games again, I’d die of shame alone - to hell with sea monsters and cliffs. I took the chalk in my still-aching hand and added an extra line: “Jen - Realist”. And just for good luck, I threw some coins into the betting jar with my name on it that I had kept from last year, just for good luck. The coins hit the bare glass walls with a hollow, resounding clatter. I needed all the good luck I could get this year.

#the scorpio races #the scorpio races festival #TSRF2019 #submission #TSRF2019: sailingthroughemotion #TSRF2019: Rider Challenges #TSRF2019 RC1 #TSRF2019 RC2 #TSRF2019 RC3

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