#angry tom

[kyokimidori]

Welcome back prompt!!!

Tomione. Childhood friends to idiots to lovers. College/Uni AU? Flatmates??? At the same party but they don't know it? Tom overhears Hermione lamenting their unrequited feelings to someone?

Ensuing chaos??? Cherrypick whatever sparks joy the write from this!!! Or do literally whatever you want if none of it does :)))

Girlie, was that all one prompt?! I dunno if I was supposed to write it all or not, but here it goes! Love you girlie!

Warning: Not safe for work.

If you or anyone you know wants to submit prompts. My ask box is open!

@hauscrashburn @petralynnluna @littlemulattokitten @stephaniemccrea

"I've loved him since we were children Ginny, and he's never seen it, never truly seen me. " Tom stopped by the door of a bedroom, hearing a familiar voice inside, one of his flat mate and childhood friend. He stood quietly at the door entrance, the door slightly ajar but he remained behind the door where they couldn't see him. His blood boiling at the idea that Hermione Granger, the girl he had been enamored with since childhood dared to love someone else.

Secretly he wondered who it was. He had dealt with the others who had tried to date her. Viktor Krum the exchange student in secondary school had been the hardest to deal with for the boy didn't frighten well, not to mention that the boy had been athletic and well built. He hadn't been afraid of Tom's 'friends'. Didn't backdown from the challenge.

No, With Krum he had to resort to more underhanded methods. He had whispered doubts into Hermione's ears, seeding doubt in her about Krum. It had taken a few months, longer than he liked, but eventually they went their separate ways, Krum leaving the UK and Hermione staying. It had been a relief; he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back his anger every time he saw them kiss.

Now Tom had to deal with a mystery man, one that Hermione had loved since Childhood. There were two possible suspects, neither of which were worthy of having Hermione. Harry Potter was a popular guy, an orphan, like himself, who was popular with the ladies. He was Hermione's best friend and most likely culprit. Then there was Ron Weasley, the poor redheaded bastard that had constantly teased Hermione when they were children, calling her a bookworm and otherwise being a jerk to her, all in order to get her attention.

No, It couldn't be Weasley, for Weasley at least had the good common sense to know that Hermione was worth something. Was worth pursuing. Potter, however, could very well have friend zoned he and been oblivious of her affection towards him.

"Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that we share the same flat, I'd probably never see him again" Hermione continued.

Tom actually stopped breathing at her comment to her friend Ginny. Hermione Granger only had one flat mate, and Tom knew for certain that the person in question returned her feelings. This wouldn't do at all. He would have to correct this.

Tomm opened the door, his face taking on stoic expression as he entered the room silently. Ginny, who was sitting on the bed in the room facing the door looked up and paled slightly, causing Hermione to turn around herself, her face falling as she realized who was standing in the doorway.

"Tom..." Hermione started but he held up a hand cutting her off.

"Ginny, Out." Tom commanded, leaving no room for the younger girl to argue. Nor did she want to. Instead she abandoned her friend to face Tom's fury by herself.

Once Ginny left, Tom closed the door calmly, turning to look at Hermione who was still on the bed, loooking mortified.

"How long were you there?" she asked him.

"Long enough to know you are in love with your flat mate" he replied, slowly, methodically taking step after step towards her.

"Tom, I.."

"How long?" he asked cutting her off, standing in front of her. Hermione stood up from the bed.

"Tom, its not important. Please lets just forget about this" she whispered to him.

Riddle reached out, grasping her shoulders, his fingers digging into her delicate skin "How long?" he repeated, his voice gravelly.

"Since I was 13." she finally replied, tears in her eyes " Please Tom, you weren't supposed to find out like this." she whispered desperately.

"When were you going to tell me Hermione?" he snapped letting her shoulders go. Hermione looked down at her feet, giving her answer.

She was never going to tell him, would have kept her secret from him for many more years. Already she had kept this secret for 8 years.

Tom took a deep breath, calming himself and his anger, seeing Hermione's shoulders trembling. With a sign, Tom reached for her chin, grasping it and forcing her to look up at him, tear filled eyes met his own. He didn't need to search her for answers, they were plain on her face. This wasn't some sort of joke.

Using his thumb, he wiped away her tears before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"You should have told me Hermione" he growled the words "8 years you've wasted." he gripped her chin a little tighter before he moved his hand to her hair, his fingers bunching in the curls as he pulled her head back, exposing her neck to him. Quietly he placed small kisses on the exposed skin, nipping at delicate surface. "8 years you left me in the dark, had me thinking that it was you that didn't see me."

"I always saw you" she whispered, whimpering as he bit her neck, moaning as he sucked on the spot, he just bit.

Tom stopped kissing her neck, ignoring her whimper of protest. instead, he leaned down and claimed her lips again, this time in a brutal kiss. He delighted in how she leaned into the kiss, his hold on her hair giving him easy access to her mouth. He stopped the kiss, pulling away from the kiss, but not before nipping her bottom lip.

"Tom..." Hermione started, but stopped at his expression.

"8 years of this you missed out on" he continued as if she hadn't said a thing. He loosened hsi grip on her hair, his hands going to her hips, bringing her body flush with his own. He saw her face turn pink and he smirked down at her " Do you know how long I have waited in the background, wanting you, waiting for you to stop wasting your time with men beneath you?" he asked her.

"No.. i don't" she whispered leaning into him.

"Since I was 11 years old. I knew you were the only one for me since I was 11 years old" he replied, looking into her eyes. "10 years I have waited."

Hermione said nothing, unsure what to say, what to do. Finally she spoke "I'm not the only one to blame, you could have said something Tom"

"How many times did I turn down another girl to spend time with you. How many times did I spend what little money i had on you, on taking you out, or buying you a special gift?" he asked her " I wasn't subtle with my affections Hermione." He growled her name. "You friend zoned me, long ago"

"I'm sorry" she whispered.

"No, but you will be" he replied as he guided her down onto the bed until she was sitting on the plush mattress. Slowly he knelt down in front of her.

"Tom what are you-" she was cut off by his hand sliding beneath her skirt, soft fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. she shivered slightly at the contact, unconsciously opening her legs slightly, allowing him easier access to her body.

"Good girl" he murmured to her, trailing his fingers up the sensitive skin to the line of her panties. slowly, delicately he run is fingers over her panties, smirking at her.

"You are soaked" he informed her with a satisfied smirk on his face, watching as her skin turned red. "All it took was a few kisses and you are already ready for me" he purred. slowly he pulled down her panties, letting them tangle at her feet, enjoying that it limited her movements.

Slowly he traced his finger down her seem, feeling her shudder under his touch.

"Tom..." she whispered weakly, her voice thick with lust.

"So wet for me" he smirked up at her "What a good girl, knowing who her master is" slowly he slid a finger into her core, watching as her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, slowly he curled his finger inside her, watching as her mouth made a little o and she bucked into his hand unconsciously.

"Did they ever touch you like this, Dove?" he asked her wanting the truth from her. He would kill them, whoever had touched her like this, whoever else had gotten the pleasure of spending this precious time with her. Of seeing her like this, so open and vulnerable. He would kill them.

"No" she whispered the words, her eyes fluttering open "It never felt right."

"Good girl" he responded, slowly moving his finger in and out of her, relishing each soft whimper and moan.

"Please Tom, more" she pleaded softly, her breath coming in short little gasps.

He smirked at her, knowing she was telling the truth, that they never touched her like this, she was so innocent, thinking this was all he would give her tonight. Slowly he inserted another finger, watching as her eyes fluttered back shut, He chuckled lightly, watching his little dove enjoying the pleasure he was giving her. He moved his fingers in and out of her faster, enjoying the way her eyes rolled back, how she bucked into him, wanting more friction.

He smirked as he used his thumb to rub at her little bundle of nerves, delighting in the fact that she actually jumped in surprise at the contact.

"Tell me who you belong to Hermione" he murmured softly into her ear, having moved closer to her even as he worked her body like a fiddle.

"You Tom, it was always you" she replied panting as he sped up his pace, wanting to reward her, to see her come apart from his minstrations.

It didn't take long, his thirsty girl begging for more and him supplying it, until finally she went over the edge. His name on her lips like a prayer.

He enjoyed that, watching her come apart, hearing her call for him. Yes, he would enjoy this so much more than he had with other women.

Once she had come down from her high, he removed his fingers from her, smirking as she whimpered from the loss. "Don't worry Dove," he murmured into her lips, kissing her softly as the words escaped from his mouth. "This is far from over, but first, lets go home"

Hermione nodded, her honey eyes looking into his own, her eyes wide.

Tom chuckled softly as he cleaned himself up, helping her with her panties before placing a gentle kiss on her brow.

Oh yes, tonight was going to be a long night, and Tom was going to relish ever second of it.

After all, he had to make up for lost time.

[megwritesriddles]

I Despise You ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 1 - Angry Sex. Reader is the Head Girl and Riddle is the Head Boy, Riddle likes to push Reader's boundaries until it all boils over. Minimal plot but a smidge anyway.

Tags: Angry sex, P in V, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Magic as birth control, Enemies with benefits, Arguing (which is badly written oops), Attempt at angst, Tiny bit of sexism from Riddle, Reader is wearing a dress (I imagined one of those Sabrina Carpenter babydoll dresses lol), Head boy Riddle, Head girl Reader, Historical inaccuracy.

Word count: 3.4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: First installment of Kinktober and first post on tumblr!! woo!! please show me some love if you like it!! I am terrible at writing arguments because I hate confrontation irl oops!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Being appointed as Head Girl was supposed to be the best thing to ever happen to you. You’d been working toward it since at least the third year and it was all you ever seemed to hope for. It was meant to be an achievement that you and your friends would all celebrate, perhaps head down to the Three Broomsticks and spoil you with free drinks for the night in honour of your achievement. But, life wasn’t so kind.

When your position as Head Girl was announced all you had received from your friends were pitying looks, all due to the pesky little detail of who had been announced as Head Boy to serve alongside you. Tom Riddle. Tom. Fucking. Riddle. Of course, Professor Dippett had had to announce his name first, meaning you hadn’t even gotten a second of enjoyment from your appointment. He had stood up smugly at the Slytherin table, basking in the cheers from his house, flashing a charming smile to the room as he made his way to the front of the hall. For the first time in your life, at that moment, you had prayed that Head Girl would not be you. It was. Your name was called, your house applauded and your legs carried you over to Riddle’s side. He grinned down at you, that little glint of mockery in his eye that you could only see from this close. You wanted to punch him, that would surely lose you the Head Girl position and solve this problem, but you had your future to think of. You had repeated that to yourself all that night as you and Riddle had been whisked off to the staff room to be briefed on your positions and given your badges. Riddle was the picture of charm, laughing with the various professors that came to speak with you, you just sat there, smiling falsely, looking a little like you’d just been hit over the head with a plank. You felt like it too. Your lifelong dream had just been turned into something poisonous. Really, you thought to yourself as Slughorn guided you through the corridors to the Head’s quarters, you should have seen this coming. They weren’t supposed to appoint two students from the same house, so logically, if you were picked for Head Girl, it was only ever going to be Riddle at your side. You wondered why you hadn’t considered this before, it was so obvious with hindsight. You scowled at the back of his and Slughorn’s heads as you ascended some stairs, them chatting together jovially, making your blood boil.

Slughorn shows you the small common room, enough seating for about four people, a fireplace, and a little kitchenette with some stools, decorated with opulence. It would all have been very nice if it hadn’t been for Riddle standing there commenting on the lovely brass crests. The separate rooms were your biggest comfort, both off of little halls from the common room in different directions. You could hide in there from him, you told yourself over and over. You didn’t have the headspace to be impressed by the beautiful ensuites with golden-tapped baths, just wanting Slughorn to leave so you would no longer have to listen to Riddle’s disgustingly smooth voice. Eventually, Slughorn did leave the two of you to go to bed. As he shut the common room door, you could see Riddle’s mouth opening from the corner of your eye. You darted to your room before he could get the words out, slamming the door, relieved to find all your things already there. You collapsed onto the bed and sighed. The nightmare was only beginning.

The hands on the clock point to 3:30 am. It’s a Monday morning, you have a meeting with Dumbledore in just a few hours, but sleep is impossible. He has friends over again. The deep bass of their voices reverberates through the walls of the common room. They’re chatting and laughing like always, most likely drinking too, you’ve spotted them with whiskey a few times. You seethe with anger in your bed, just last week you had kindly approached him, and not for the first time, about this issue. You had emphatically asked him to be considerate of you and your time. He had placated you like always.

“Yes darling, I didn’t realise we were being so bothersome, won’t happen again,” he had soothed, but of course, it was happening again right now. You kept somehow getting caught in his charms, the very ones you had been immune to for so long. It had to be the sleep deprivation he was causing, that was what was making you melt a little whenever he called you darling or smiled just so, in the way that used to make you feel sick. In the dark of your room, you lie on your side and curse inwardly. Reporting him had crossed your mind many times, but you knew he would just charm his way out of it, like he did with everything. Your ears rumble with another deep laugh from the group of men in the other room and you’ve had enough. Throwing off your duvet and stomping to your bedroom door, you fling it open and head into the common room. He sits reclined leisurely in an armchair by the fireplace, his sleeves rolled up and tie loose. His ankles are crossed, resting on the coffee table in front of him, he chuckles at something, you couldn’t care less what, the firelight dancing over his face. He hasn’t noticed you, but across from him on the opposite armchair, his friend, Avery, straightens up and grins at you. His eyes drift over you, you realise instantly that you stomped out here in only your nightgown and socks and flush lightly, but stand your ground.

“Riddle!” you bark, surprising even yourself with the viciousness of your tone. This brings his attention to you effectively. His other two friends turn to look at you over the back of the sofa, Riddle doesn’t even straighten up when he looks up at you, smirking in a self-satisfied way that makes your insides twist oddly.

“Hello darling,” he speaks smoothly. “You look a picture tonight,” he lets his eyes drift up and down your figure without shame. You go red with anger and embarrassment.

“Doesn't she just?” One of his friends, Rosier, comments with a mocking chuckle. This sets you off.

“Out!” You screech. All the boys look taken aback by the intensity of your outburst. “Out, out, out!”

“Fine,” Riddle hisses in an infuriatingly calm tone. “You lot should go, you heard the Head Girl,” you hear the mocking tone in his voice, suggesting he thinks you’re hysterical. You stand there with your fists clenched, staring the men down as they get up and head for the door, feeling ridiculous but not wanting to show any weakness. Once they all leave and shut the door behind them, the two of you fall into silence for a moment. He’s watching you, but not in the leering way from earlier, he almost looks impressed with you. You avert your eyes from the closed door onto his face, he’s leaning forward now, with his elbows on his knees. Just when you’re considering simply turning to leave, he speaks up. “Happy now, darling? You’re really no fun, we were only talking,” his eyes fix on yours, burning deeply. You scoff indignantly.

“It’s nearly 4 am Riddle, you know I have a meeting in the morning, I have brought this up to you countless times and–”

“Yes, but you don’t seem to understand that I simply don’t care to keep you happy, darling,” he grins. You let out a frustrated yelp.

“You are unbelievable! How were you ever chosen for Head Boy when you're this insidious? You don’t deserve it!” You snap. This stirs something in him. His eyes darken and he stands up from the armchair.

“And you do, do you darling?” he asks slowly, stalking toward you. “You’re the picture of perfection, aren’t you just?” You’re not sure what to say to this, any answer seems wrong like it’ll give him reason to dig into you further. Your mouth opens and shuts for a moment before you settle on a shrug. Your hands flex in the fists they’re tightened into as a smirk spreads over his face. “You don’t seem so high and mighty from here,” he chuckles, stopping in front of you. He has several inches on you and you’re forced to look up at him. “You look lovely in this little nightie,” he comments with a grin, reaching out to trace the lace at the strap with the tip of his finger. You jolt away instantly, glaring up at him.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you dare comment on my looks!” You hissed, smacking his hand away. His eyes darken even more at this.

“And don’t you dare smack me,” he growls. “I was merely paying you a compliment,”

“Like hell you were!” You scoff. “You’re trying to make me feel small,” he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“If the shoe fits,” he grins. You scowl, shoving at him without thinking about it. He stumbles back slightly, looking momentarily bewildered. When he realises what you just did he surges for you. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you into the wall. You let out a small oof sound as you collide with the wall, surprised it didn’t hurt more than it did. For a moment, you wonder if he had avoided hurting you until you look up and see the fire in his eyes, then you wonder if he wishes he had just killed you. “I would have rather had literally anyone as Head Girl than you, you are the bane of my existence,” he snarls, gripping your shoulders hard.

“I’m the bane of your existence? I don’t have friends over until the small hours of the morning! Imagine how I feel!” You spit back. You can tell he’s barely listening to you.

“You are insufferable! You’re the only person who doesn’t fawn over the sight of me and it’s you that I get stuck with for the whole year!” he scoffs. “I will not let you control my lifestyle!” he adds angrily. “I will not bend my life to make you happy! I am not subservient to anyone and I never will be!” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly.

“You are ridiculous,”

“I despise you,” he hisses venomously. “You’re always everywhere I am, you’re always following me around, tailing me in every subject, you had to go for this position when I’ve had my sights locked on it since first year!” He pushes you back into the wall again. “Are you happy now darling? You got Head Girl and now we’re both miserable! You must be thrilled!”

“You think I’m following you around?” you sneer. “How full of yourself are you that you think me going for Head Girl was about you? You seem to think you’re the centre of everything, but in my life Riddle, you are just an inconvenience, you are nothing,” you seethed. Something flashes in Riddle’s eyes, his jaw working.

“I am nothing?” he demands. “I am nothing?” he’s shaking now and you’re sure he’s about to hex you or punch you, his eyes flick between yours, his whole body coiled tight and ready to pounce. Instead, his lips are suddenly on yours, thrusting your head back against the wall. You yelp in surprise, your eyes wide, the back of your head hurting from being pressed into the hard surface. He kisses you without a single hint of affection, kissing you like it’s a punishment, a way of muzzling you, but Merlin, somehow it feels good. He’s grabbing at you, taking fistfuls of your nightgown in his hands. You find that you’re kissing him back, that you have been practically since his lips met yours and that you’re doing so eagerly. Your head is spinning as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you harshly to him, the hard planes of his lean body pressing against you. Your arms snake around his neck and he lets you yank at his hair. He’s kissing you so hard that you’re practically tipping backwards. Your tongues rub against each other as you kiss frantically. He’s leading you to the sofa, throwing you down and then settling above you. He props himself up, his hands on either side of your head. You both take this moment to catch your breaths, staring intensely at each other as your chests rise and fall rapidly. “Am I still nothing?” he growls, a little breathless. Once again, you don’t know what the right thing to say is. One of his hands moves down and starts to push up the hem of your nightdress, revealing your thighs to his devouring eyes. You grab him and kiss him again instead of talking, just as hard and unforgiving as before.

You feel your nightdress being bunched at your waist and hear the faint sound of a zip being pulled down. You kiss him harder, nipping at his bottom lip harshly and scrunching your eyes shut. He just groans in response, pushing down his slacks haphazardly, his other hand keeping him propped up above you. You’re suddenly awfully overheated, both from lying on the sofa in front of the blazing fireplace and from the realisation of what he’s planning to do to you. Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to let him fuck you on the sofa in the common room? Riddle? The man you’ve hated for years? The man who has been deliberately antagonising you for the past several weeks, and especially tonight? Your hands are resting on his stomach, and you connect the dots in mild horror that you’ve been unbuttoning his shirt without even realising it. You feel completely out of control of yourself, you’ve never acted this way before. You gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers pressing against your core through the fabric of your underwear. His fingers rub roughly, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through you. You whine slightly, feeling him smirk against your lips. You scratch at his chest a little in retaliation. He grunts, you can’t tell if he likes it or not and it bothers you. His fingers hook into your underwear and start to tug down. This is your last chance to back out, to throw him off of you and run away, but you find yourself unable to do anything but writhe and cling to his shoulders. The underwear is discarded on the floor and he is using his free hand to spread your thighs open, you flush deeply as he pulls away from the kiss to look down at you. You can feel how wet you are and you hate that, based on the smug little grin on his face, he knows it too. Your cheeks are burning as he reaches down, using two fingers to spread your folds. He lets out a needy sound by accident and it’s your turn to gloat. He flashes you a glare and plunges a finger into your tight heat in revenge. This makes your back arch and your lips part and he smirks back at you.

“So wet…” he comments, self-satisfied, his finger creating obscene squelches as he pumps it in and out of you slowly. You snarl at him, lashing out in embarrassment. You grab at the tent in his boxers, feeling him rock-hard under the fabric. He frowns in embarrassment, withdrawing his finger from you which makes you whimper a little. “You’re asking for it now, darling,” he growls. He’s scrambling to rid himself of his boxers. His tip is quickly prodding at your entrance and you gasp and arch slightly. He glides against you for a moment, his tip rubbing deliciously at your clit, seeming like he’s waiting for something. Then, he’s plunging into you. You let out a pathetic little cry and he grins. “Does that feel good?” he coos mockingly as he fully seats himself inside you. You both gasp for breath as your tight heat embraces him. It does feel good, torturously so, but his mocking tone irks you.

“I hate you,” you growl up at him as he lowers himself onto his elbows, his face right above yours. He scowls, panting slightly.

“I hate you too, believe me,” his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place. He buries his face in your neck and starts to nip as his hips begin to rock harshly. His thrusts are hard and punishing, slow, withdrawing almost completely and then slamming forward, just short of painful. You whine and grab at his back, letting your nails dig into him, he doesn’t seem to mind. He speeds up, grunting loudly against your neck. He pulls back to watch as you move along with his thrusts, your eyes scrunched shut and lips parted with desperate whines. He pants, his hot breaths washing over your face. He speeds up even more, growling like a crazed animal. “Look at you, falling apart under me, what would your friends think?” he taunts. Your eyes squeeze tighter shut, a wave of shame passing through you that somehow heightens your pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whine. You hear him laughing mockingly. You muster your strength and clench your walls around him. His laugh morphs into a choked groan at the sensation, his hips stuttering. He was more affected by this than you expected, his pace now brutal as he fucks into you, clearly desperately chasing release now, rather than focusing on playing mind games on you. His lips meet yours again and you kiss back. It’s clumsy and sloppy, given how fast he’s moving, but it just heightens everything you’re feeling. “You gonna come already?” you mock as you feel him faltering in his thrusts. He groans angrily against your lips.

“I despise you,” he hisses shakily, propping himself back up so he can thrust into you more relentlessly. You return the sentiment, but it’s a little half-hearted now between whines. You cry out when you feel his thumb on your clit, rubbing hard. He seems oddly determined to have you orgasm before he does, perhaps to humiliate you, but it feels so good that you can hardly complain. He grunts loudly, you can tell he’s trying to goad you, but his speech is incoherent between sounds of pleasure and the slapping of skin against skin. You feel it building up and you can’t deny yourself the pleasure, you don’t try to hold back. However, he still falls apart first. His hips stutter then stop entirely and he groans loudly, you feel his seed spilling deep into you, warm ropes painting your inside. His thumb doesn’t let up its rubbing and it allows you to also reach your release. You pulse around his oversensitive cock and he gasps and whines pathetically, but continues rubbing you through it until all the aftershocks are over.

He remains propped above you, catching his breath for a while, his head hung low. You both whine slightly as he withdraws from you slowly, leaving you with a pop. He takes a shaky breath, staring at his essence that trickles out of you. You just stare at the ceiling, unsure what to do now. You feel the sofa dip as he reaches down to the floor, his chest touching yours as he lowers himself gently. He grabs his wand from his trouser pocket and props back up. He mumbles a spell, cleaning you of his essence and eliminating the chance of pregnancy. It pleases you a little that he took care of it, rather than leaving it up to you. He moves, sitting back on his haunches between your legs, lowering the hem of your nightdress to cover you back up. You stare at each other silently for a moment as he tucks himself away.

“This changes nothing between us,” he asserts, narrowing his eyes at you. You want to laugh at that, as clearly everything has just changed in some way, but you know what he means.

“Yeah, it changes nothing,” you repeat with a sigh. He glances over at the fireplace for a moment, before his eyes flick to the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Now chop chop, don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore?” he grins. Your eyes widen and then you kick at him in frustration, realising what he’s done. He just laughs. “You better figure out a way to cover those hickeys quickly,” he smirks. You whine indignantly, burying your head in your hands.

“I’m going to kill you!”

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xoxoxo

[sparsilees]

it’s almost the end of 2024. can we drop this absolutely inane fanonical idea that harry james potter is “oblivious” or “unobservant” or “average”?

fuck your fanon harry. fuck that soggy tissue who doesn’t inspire confidence in others. fuck that lummox who cannot string a sentence together. fuck that hothead who’d lash out in anger and throw punches at every provocation. fuck that namby-pamby who can’t read clues or between the lines or come up with a plan of action. fuck that sheep who can’t function without hermione’s direction. fuck that neanderthal who’s a messy eater, messy writer, messy speaker, and has poor manners.

who the bloody hell is that? that’s not harry james potter. why are you twisting and malforming him into a bloody clown?

why are you undermining the main character of his own series? boy has an abysmal self-esteem, stays quiet and lowkey, bottles up his truest feelings and thoughts (that we as readers are privy to, but not the other characters!), and has a calm and composed mien so you think you too can dismiss his character easily and strip him down to a skeleton of his canon self and instead carve out huge character growth, redemption arcs, and love letters for everyone else?

you wish to evoke sympathy for draco by making lucius out to be an abusive father and crafting a pitiful childhood for draco when they have an affectionate parent-child relationship canonically, but downplay harry’s abuse? you realise that tom riddle, sirius black, james potter, and hermione granger are acknowledged to be the brightest of their generation, yet forget harry potter and tom riddle are two sides of the same coin, even sharing a similar appearance, and reduce harry to a silly caricature? you make harry magically powerful but wrest his smarts away to highlight someone else’s big brain?

you make him out to be a short dork with a shorter fuse and no idea what’s going on around him when harry and tom are both described as woe-ridden orphans—with all that entails from constant hunger to cold sleepless nights to hypervigilance to the forced, quick maturity—but treat tom true to canon as tall, cunning, and clever, then do an about-face to conveniently slap the malnourished, oblivious, and slacker labels on harry to make him as lesser than?

when he picked up the impervious spell simply from having seen hermione perform it once, when his closest friends have difficulty gleaning his thoughts, when his anger is cold and sharp like dumbledore (ootp was a study in ptsd, next!), when he’s just as tall as his father, was just as ill-treated as a house elf, and rightfully brilliant as the son of lily and james potter—the two powerful and talented individuals who once had voldemort trying to recruit them to join his cause?

the sheer disrespect on his name. the sheer mockery of his character. the absolutely mind-boggling erasure of his most defining traits.

who do you think sussed out most of the big clues, and stowed away all the little, random bits of information in his memory bank, to ultimately piece the puzzle together at the final showdown every end of the school year? who realised as a mere firstie that quirrel was the man hagrid blabbed to about fluffy and the dragon egg? who noted that ginny was withdrawn and unlike herself? who had an inkling fleur had taken a fancy to bill? who picked up on what was brewing between ron and hermione before their own selves? who noticed that hermione cast a confundus on cormac mclaggen during the match? who caught on instantly to the change in tense used for the diadem’s existence and confidently tracked it down? who cottoned on to luna’s longtime disappearance from her cold, untouched bed and the layer of dust? who did voldemort consider his equal? who actually has an uncanny sense of intuition? who calls the shots when the trio gets into a pickle? who?

mcgonagall? flitwick? draco? hermione? blaise zabini? no!

excuse harry for that one time he did not look deeply into the mental workings of a grieving girl because he’s not equipped to deal with them, and has in the first place never been taught to process his own emotions properly because he didn’t grow up in a healthy environment, prohibited from expressing his feelings, let alone vulnerability, and voicing his thoughts!

let’s bury this annoyingly stupid narrative for good. go read the books and refresh your perspective. stop doing him dirty. you’ve already butchered sirius black’s character into a pathetic sisspot. and now you want to assassinate harry’s too.

[issylra]

DREAM OF THE ENDLESS | 1.07 “The Doll's House”

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live | 1x01 - Years

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again.

Short summary: You know your way around your town, which is why a handsome stranger at your local Christmas market instantly catches your attention. However, you surely are in for a surprise…

A/N: Posting this at 6am bc I have no life. Part two coming asap (buckle up for some hate fucking)

wordcount: 1,8k

part 2

The powdery snow crunches under the sole of your winter boots as you stroll through the Christmas market in your town. You inhale deeply, the smell of freshly baked gingerbread and orange-scented mulled whine filling your senses. Small children run around, screeching as they chase each other with snowballs. Your friends agreed to meet you later that evening, so for now, you enjoyed some alone time.

As you pass a group of musicians playing Christmas carols, a handsome stranger catches your attention. He is wearing a black winter coat and leather gloves, one hand in the pocket of his coat while he is gesturing towards the exit with the other, seemingly more than ready to leave. His beautiful brunette curls fall onto his forehead on one side, a few snowflakes sticking to his hair.

The longer you stare at him, the more curious you become where he might be from, given that you live in a fairly small town and everyone knows each other. You two lock eyes for a brief moment before he returns his attention to who you assume to be his friends. They soon turn their heads too, grinning when they spot who he was looking at. “Shit.” You curse under your breath, quickly disappearing behind a jewellery stand.

Tom did not want to be there by any means. Yet Mattheo, Draco and Theo had somehow convinced him to accompany them. Or, as he suspected, drugged him into compliance. These ridiculous muggle traditions and celebrations had even as a kid infuriated him. Not to mention that he was freezing in this weather, every tiny snowflake melting on his coat only adding to his irritation.

“I am leaving. I have had enough of this.” He sneers, pointing towards the exit. The others don’t pay his complaints any attention, exchanging knowing glances and resuming their conversation. Tom’s eyes wander around the market as the musicians begin another song. That’s when he spots you – staring right back at him.

Your figure is hidden beneath a thick winter jacket, a red scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, and a thin layer of snow covering the top of your head.

“Tom?”

He snaps out of his thoughts and turns toward his brother. “What were you-“ Mattheo begins, but stops mid-sentence, turning to scan the place. A sly grin forms on his lips as he sees you quickly turn to leave. “I see, I see. Tom Riddle ogling a muggle girl, huh?”

A scoff escapes Tom. “I wasn’t.”

The others laugh at how unconvincing his answer was. A whole new Tom had just emerged from Merlin knows where. Even he himself couldn’t believe the uncertainty in his voice, there was no way a muggle girl could be this intriguing at first sight. For the next few minutes he found himself unable to get his mind off you no matter what he tried, utterly convinced you had to be a witch as well. That was exactly what he was going to attempt to find out.

“I will be back.” Tom excuses himself, not waiting for an answer, heading in the direction you had disappeared. “Have fun!” The others tease, but he doesn’t care a bit. He had to find you.

“Thanks so much!” You smile, handing the man behind the counter some cash in exchange for a steaming hot cup of berry-flavoured tea. The brunette’s gaze still lingers in your mind, and secretly you wish he had followed you. There was something about him – something strange almost. An energy you had never felt before.

The cup warms your hands, numb from the cold as you stupidly enough had forgotten your gloves at home. Taking a first careful sip of your tea, you make your way to find a bench. Or so you think.

Just as you pass a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, a tall figure appears in front of you. You bump into him, spilling the tea everywhere. “God, I am so sorry!” You apologize, hissing at the burning sensation of the hot liquid dripping over your freezing fingers. As you look up, you instantly recognize the brunette from earlier in front of you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you realize you had thoroughly drenched his coat. You reach out instinctively to assess the damage, however he catches your wrist and stops you.

“Hold on. I got it.”

Not in your wildest dreams you could have imagined what happens next. From inside his coat he pulls out a long, weirdly shaped object, a stick you think. With just a small wave the spilled tea vanishes into thin air, the soaked spot on his coat drying up instantly.

Your eyes widen in horror, and you let out a small huff. “What are you? Some kind of magician?” You try to laugh the rising unease off, although seriously concerned by what the man in front of you had just done. He looks at you with a stern expression, realizing he was mistaken, you weren’t a witch. “I am much more than a magician.” The brunette murmurs and with another wave of that strange stick…

“Obliviate.”

The memory of what had just happened fades from your mind. Tom surely wasn’t going to take any chances with the Ministry, performing magic in front of a muggle could get you into serious trouble after all.

A tall figure, whom you recognize immediately, appears from behind the tree. It’s him, he had followed you after all. “Hey” you say, smiling. He nods. Just as you are about to take another sip of your tea, you realize the mug is almost empty, even though you had just bought it a minute ago.

“It’s leaking.” The brunette suggests, pointing to a drop forming beneath the porcelain mug. You check it and it’s true what he said. “Seems like you are right” you reply, looking behind you to see if you had spilled more, strangely enough though, that wasn’t the case. “But why-“

“I’ll get you a new one.” He interrupts, hands in the pockets of his coat as he strides toward the hut where you had bought it from. You follow him, tell him he doesn’t need to, yet he insists.

He hands you a fresh cup of the same tea you had before, which makes you wonder how he knew your choice, but deciding it might just be a coincidence, you let it go. “Thank you” you say, shooting him a small smile.

Tom didn’t know why he stayed after finding out you were a muggle, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave. There was something different about you. He had noticed it the moment your eyes met, and he noticed it again now.

Both of you just stand there in silence for a moment and as soon as you take in his stern facial expression, you laugh, drawing his gaze to you. “You seem awfully unpleased to be here. Did your friends drag you along?”

“You could say so.” He replies, eyes flickering between you and some children running around nearby. “What’s your name, by the way? I have never seen you here before, and believe me, I know every soul in this town.”

“I am Tom, and not from here. So you couldn’t possibly know me.” He replies, his expression never changing into a friendlier one. “Well, Tom,” you grin, grabbing the sleeve of his coat. “I’d love to show you around then.”

Despite his initial resistance, you lead him through the market, trying out seasonal treats at various stands he has apparently never had before. “These are disgusting.” He remarks, handing you the roasted chestnuts he bought only a minute ago. You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t say that. They are my favourite!”

The next stop brings you to the children’s choir, watching them perform in front of their proud parents. You notice that each time there is a crowd, Tom goes silent, observing his surroundings intently. “Hey, what’s up?” You ask him, finishing your chestnuts.

“I hate everything about this.” He grumbles, and you two make your way out of the crowd, sitting down on a nearby bench.

“There is no reason for you to be so grumpy. It’s Christmas! The season of love and peace.”

Tom shakes his head. “I don’t care about either of those.”

“Poor Tom had his heart broken recently?” You tease, a playful tone in your voice. By the look he shoots you, you realize you had most likely struck a nerve and you apologize.

He doesn’t respond.

For a minute you sit there in awkward silence, the flickering lights from a nearby tree casting a colorful glow on his dark curls.

Ping.

You reach in your handbag and pull out your phone, seeing that your friends had texted you. Tom turns his head, looking at you like he had never seen a phone before. Your eyes meet his. “Some of my friends are going to be here soon. We could go to the ferris wheel then if you’d like?” You try to ease the tension, but he has other plans. “I am going to get going then.”

“No, stay! They would surely love to meet you.” You insist, placing your hand on his, feeling his warmth on your palm. He cocks an eyebrow at the sudden touch and you blush, pulling your hand back. “Sorry.” you whisper.

Your head shoots up as you hear familiar voices calling for you and you stand up to wave your friends over to where you two are sitting. Tom on the other hand takes the opportunity to leave, making his way back to the others. Talking to one muggle was bad enough.

Of course, they tease him on their way back to Hogwarts. He doesn’t care, though. You are still on his mind, and he can’t seem to forget you, much to his dismay. Too friendly, too cheerful for his liking. And who did you think you were to make fun of him?

He had it planned out – sweet revenge.

“Let me introduce you to someone I met just an hour ago!” You turn around to Tom, or atleast to where you think he was sitting. However, there is no one. He is gone. “Who exactly are we talking about? You are making friends with benches now?” Your friends laugh and you frown. “I swear he was just-“

The evening passes quickly and though you still enjoyed yourself, you couldnt figure out where Tom went. There was no way he could have disappeared that quickly. As you arrive home, you sit down on your bed, emptying your handbag, when an unfamiliar object catches your attention. It’s a gorgeous silver necklace, an emerald green gem hanging from the delicate chain. With it, you find a note.   

We will meet again.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Something about Dumbledore being so hard on Snape

Dumbledore being scornful of Snape even when Snape was on his knees

Dumbledore emphasising that Snape made a mistake and must pay for it

Dumbledore who kept reminding Snape of his mistake even when he was grieving Lily

Dumbledore who didn't just let Snape change sides, he needed Snape to change his heart

Dumbledore who made the same mistakes as Snape and has been living in guilt ever since

Dumbledore who realised Snape was following in his footsteps

Dumbledore who may have started out thinking of Snape as cowardly or selfish but soon grew to trust him

Dumbledore who gave Snape half truths because if worst came to worst then Voldemort would have all the information right on his arm

Dumbledore who trusted Snape enough to not lie to him about the fact that he wasn't telling him everything even though he knew Snape resented it

Dumbledore who trusted Snape so much he knew that even if Snape resented him he would not betray him

Dumbledore who left everything he worked for in Snape's hands knowing it would be safe

Dumbledore who asked Snape to be the one to kill him, not just to save Draco's soul but for his own sake

Dumbledore who chose to die but only at the hands of someone he had grown to love

Dumbledore who once saw Snape as a desperate selfish boy that disgusted him

Dumbledore who made Snape his heir

Dumbledore who made Snape his.

[pollyna]

After, after, they gave his name to a carrier. The Navy never received so many votes for a single name, but she is brand new, shiny, and bigger than the other carrier. They say it is a she, but they call it USS Thomas J. Kazansky because no other name would fit.

Slider serves on in it the his last few years before retirement, Bradley is there more than he's not and Mav doesn't want to hear that name, see it or even imagine what it looks like. Sarah goes to the launch, and Mav spends the night hugging Tom's pillow and desperately trying to remember the feeling of his husband's arms around him.

[somewhereincairparavel]

This may sound strange. But Jason would've been a bomb grandpa to his grandkids. Yk that one grandpa who has the most gut wrenching, earth-shattering stories which will be said in such a calm tone, and to which his grandkids would just go "???" Yes. Jason is that grandpa.

I mean, even in canon, bro legit had a vision of himself being an old man yapping stories to his grandchildren and they were telling him to stop capping, while he was just downright offended that they thought he's lying. So you just KNOW it's true 😭

Also, You cannot tell me Jason wouldn't be included in one of those "My grandpa in his 20's" videos to which the comments would go "I was born in the wrong generation" or "can your grandma fight?" Lmao

[cakegatedisaster]

But I don't want them to heal. I want them to stay bitter and sour and angry. I want them to choose revenge over letting go every time. I want to see glimpses of hope, of peace, of a future that is better for everyone and I want them to choose wrong. I want them to refuse to regret that choice, no matter how much it hurts, no matter who it hurts. I want them to succeed in their vengeance and look back and think, even after everything, "It was worth it. I did what I had to do." I'm tired of characters choosing peace and healing and love. Choose hate and anger and pain, and inflict on every person who ever hurt you.

[logansgaar]

Just going to be thinking about how Bucky and Peter are both people who've been relegated to sidekicks living in the shadows of a "greater, brighter, more brilliant" hero. A hero that they care about but have been constantly compared to by everyone around them and by themselves. Both people who were lost after Endgame in a way that left them reeling and not able to really experience any closure, and struggling with finding their feet again after that; clutching onto a relic of their time together and working through a whole lot of denial that some things from the "good old days" weren't healthy

Neither Peter nor Bucky really got what the hell was going on at that airport, the most mental shit was happening, they were really just there, existing on the periphery of all this other bullshit developing with the Avengers and space and the quantum realm and whatever. They were both kind of pointed in a direction and told to roll with it from day one

seeing those two properly interact in live action again after what will be twelve years by the time Doomsday comes out, with how much of their storylines have paralleled, would be really, really interesting.

Not to mention I really hope Peter's more like his bitchier comic book self by then, since he'll be in his 20s and has gone through just all the trauma, so much trauma. That would be fantastic to watch bounce off Bucky's bitchy, traumatized sass too. God, Peter asking Bucky what his grown up name is, and Bucky just point blank saying "I don't understand" when Peter refuses a gun?? Right off the pages of the comics?? That would be pure gold.

[lokiusly]

Mobius would drag Odin to filth

[worstloki]

Loki who can hold the Tesseract not because it has no effect on him but because the pain receptors in his fingers/hands have long since fizzled out

[unlawfulchaos]

Mav: Am I in trouble?

Ice: Take a guess.

Mav: No?

Ice: Correct

Mav: Really!?

Ice: No, you idiot.

Ice: If you really think you're not in trouble for what you did to Admiral Caine's car, then you're even more delusional than I thought.

Mav, under his breath: It was worth it.

[oliviawebsite]

Mommy duck angry on tom spread the word

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

out of curiosity did the zombeh attack ever happen in this world? if so do any of them remember it or how would they feel about it? if not what would you believe would happen if so?

well...

one of my favorite things about eddsworld is how it uses the classic cartoon trope of everyone dying at the end of an episode and then being totally fine by the next one. fuck continuity!

the zombeh attacks definitely did happen. at some point. in some reality. i guess i would say, Edd, Tom, Matt, and Tord remember what happened in the eddisodes. outside of that...

they're not really sure.

Text:

Tord: Remember that zombie apocalypse?

Tom: No.

Matt: Ugh, don't remind me!

Edd: Oh, that was a BLAST!

Td: How did it... uh... end again?

Tm: Oh I have to be WAY drunker for this

SFX: FWOOM