#just going to Emmy and chattering and asking for a quick kiss and all

[timethehobo]

Eepy mood means soft shippy thoughts.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 2 | … I Tell Him?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

This Chapter:  Emma never expected to run in Tom again, but yet here he is in the same restaurant, five years later. Will he spill the beans on that one night and what will become of the sparks between the two of them!

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthly relationships

-

“It is not that funny, Thomas,” Emma chuckled, digging her nails into Tom’s arm.

Tom took an empty seat at Emma’s table and Corrinne leaned in closer to Tom. Even though Corrinne worked as a publicist, she still swooned over celebrities—good-looking male celebrities. Tom fit that bill to a T. Tom squeezed your arm back.

“Well, maybe I exaggerate.”

“Come on you two, spill.” Corrinne urged on.

“I happened to be in New York when I partook of the hotel bar. Em and I ended up sharing a table.”

“I just won the part of on All My Heart and celebrated with a few drinks. Tom and I ended up talking for the rest of the night.”

Corrinne’s eyebrows arched up; she wanted more and Emma refused to cooperate.

“Although, she didn’t know who I was.” Tom added, giving Emma a playful punch in the shoulder. Emma blushed. Not her proudest moment.

“Emma! How did you not recognize him?” Corrinne said, aghast.

“I wasn’t into superhero movies five years ago! Sue me!”

Tom chuckled. “It was quite alright.”

“And?” Corrinne asked, wanting the rest of the story.

“And…” Tom continued, “we exchanged numbers with plans to meet again in three weeks when I returned to New York, but this one stood me up.”

Tom nudged Emma in the shoulder. Emma blushed. Thank God for Tom’s discretion. The gossip magazines would have a field day.

“I did not! We mutually cancelled!” Emma protested.

“Ah, no. I made plans, and you cancelled by text. Something about rehearsals. I assume someone got scared.”

Tom wiggled his eyebrows at Emma. Corrinne leaned back in her chair and looked at the two of them. Tom and Emma laughed at some unheard joke and Corrinne laughed along.

“But enough about the past,” Corrinne interjected, “What brings you to L.A., Tom? I thought you lived in London.”

“True. I am here for work.” Tom chattered on nervously, “I have some screen tests, auditions, and what not for an upcoming project.”

“I would assume a big movie star didn’t audition anymore.”

“Stories of my fame are exaggerated I am afraid. The auditions are for the leading lady in the project. You understand, Emma.”

Emma nodded.

“Yeah. I hate those chemistry tests. All those eyes on you.” Emma scrunched up her nose. She didn’t have Tom’s star power, so auditions took up a significant chunk of her time when she didn’t have filming.

“And what about Em? I thought you lived in New York?” Tom asked.

“Uh, I moved out here about two years ago. My series films out here.” Emma responded. She would never tell him but she followed his career and life in the papers over the years; she hoped Tom did the same, but his comment dashed her hopes.

“Oh, your series? Isn’t the show called something like Silver Surfer or Silver Fox?” Tom quipped, twisting his face into mock contemplation.

Tom lied. After that encounter in New York, he spent the following years keeping tabs on Emma’s career; the two Daytime Emmys for her role on All My Heart, Silver Sable, all of her accolades and successes.

“Silver Sable.”

“Right! And what kind of TV show is it? An action show of some sort?” Tom commented, relentless in getting the response he wanted.

“It’s a superhero show.” Emma muttered.

“I was under the impression you didn’t like superheroes?”

Corrinne chuckled at the banter. These two baited each other left and right.

“I’ve changed.” Emma snapped back, a smile on her face.

“So it seems.” Tom’s eyes raked over Emma’s body and she blushed once again.

Corrinne choked on her drink.

“But enough about me. What is—” Tom started before a gentleman tapped on his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt. Tom, we need you back at our table.” he said.

Tom rose from the chair.

“So sorry, Luke. I will be right back.”

Emma sighed in relief. With Tom leaving, her secret remained safe. Tom started off back towards his table but he spun on his heel, pulling his phone from his coat pocket.

“Before I leave, Em.” Emma popped her head up to look at him, “I need your number, the old one doesn’t work.”

Emma didn’t expect him to still know her old number. When her fame rose and her personal number somehow made its way into her fans’ hands, she changed numbers.

“Of course, Tom!” Emma rattled off her personal cell as Tom punched the digits into his cell.

“Perfect.” Tom leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. His lips still soft like Emma remembered. “I will call and we must do lunch!”

Tom jogged off before Emma responded. After a few minutes, Corrinne cleared her throat. Emma turned and narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Spill it.”

“So… there is more to this. Care to share?”

“No comment.”

“Fair enough. So he seems nice.”

Emma blushed.

“And sexy as fuck.”

“Corrinne!” Emma spat.

“What? That man is sex in a suit. So when are you going to tell him?”

“When I’m ready.” Emma mumbled as she returned her attention to her salad.

-

Tom texted her once so she would have his number too, but Emma guessed she wouldn’t run into Tom again for some time. It wasn’t as though the two of them ran in the same circles. Their only professional link was their portrayal of Marvel characters. She hustled through the next few days in a bit of a fog. She never expected to run into him again. And she didn’t expect all those feelings and emotions to rear their ugly head.

“Earth, Emma!” Mary, her assistant, yelled.

Emma jolted in her seat.

“Ahh!” Emma waving her arms about catching herself before she fell on her face. “Yes, Mary.”

Mary suppressed a giggle.

“Okay. you have auditions all afternoon. The first one is in an hour and across town.”

Emma groaned. Some days she regretted living in Brentwood. She enjoyed the space and privacy but hated that it meant driving for hours in Los Angeles traffic. Emma, a native New Yorker, never developed the taste for sitting in traffic for hours to go 30 miles.

“Fine. I will leave in fifteen minutes.” Emma rose from her chair to go get ready. “And since I will be gone for the rest of the day forward the calls to your cell and take off around 3.”

Mary’s face lit up.

“Thanks, boss! Don’t forget the last audition is at 4 and a chemistry test, so bring a change of clothes.”

Emma took off to her bedroom and took a quick shower. Fixing her hair into a simple ponytail, she applied a light amount of makeup and dug through her closet. She settled on some simple jeans and a nice top and packed a body-conscious dress along with some heels and a small bag of makeup for her last audition. Twenty minutes later, Emma took off in her car.

As predicted, Emma sat in traffic for an inordinate amount of time and made it to the studio with no time to spare. The audition process still bothered Emma. Although Emma’s career was well established in television, her agent hoped to use her success as Silver Sable to push Emma into film roles. That meant auditioning. Six months in and no one took the bait. Perhaps she should stick to TV.

The first audition was for a period drama. Emma could smell the Oscar bait a mile away. Based on the reaction Emma got when she walked into the room, she did not fit the role at all. The whole ordeal took ten painful minutes. Emma repeated the process two more times with varying degrees of success.

Once she reached her final audition, she ducked into the bathroom to change. Emma already went through several auditions for the part in a new romantic comedy. Now she came in for a chemistry test, the part she hated. Chemistry tests made Emma feel like an object, not a person. But these types of auditions were the cost of doing business.

Emma shimmied out of her jeans and slipped into the dress. The neckline was lower than her usual outfits but whatever. She pulled her hair down from the ponytail, letting it fall around her shoulders and retouched her makeup and added some extra mascara and blush. Emma examined herself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to no one in particular.

Emma walked back out into the hallway and took a seat with three other actresses. They all looked about five years younger than Emma, with their boobs cinched up to their chin and hems flirting with indecent exposure. Emma grew disheartened. All these other girls looked like they stepped out of the pages of a magazine, Playboy to be specific. Emma’s aesthetic was more akin to In Style. She looked over the lines as they called one of the other girls into the room. She could feel the butterflies; no matter how many times she did this, Emma always got butterflies.

After about 15 minutes, they called her in. She straightened out her dress as she walked into the room.

“And you will be reading with our male lead…” the PA explained as Emma looked up from the lines to see Tom standing in the room.

“Tom Hiddleston.” Emma finished.

Tom smiled.

“In the flesh, Emma.” Tom extended his hand, Emma shook it in a daze.

What the fuck is happening? kept repeating in Emma’s head, a mantra. She took a few deep breaths. She realized the people in the room were still talking.

“… so I will be kissing you in this scene.” Tom’s voice punctured through Emma’s mental haze.

She nodded, and the scene began as they took their places.

“Do you mind?” Emma started as she pushed past Tom.

“Do you mind? This is my room and my bed. You are a guest.” Tom countered.

“Really, that’s not what you called me last night.” Emma smirked as she moved closer to Tom, his blue eyes glittering in the lights.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”

“Oh, you mean dumb, blonde, and young. Then you would be right!”

“If there was any other choice here, I would gladly take it.” Tom moved in closer, his nostrils flared.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight. Your snoring kept me up.” Emma huffed out the line, her breath puffing into Tom’s face.

“Touch me with your cold feet one more time and see what happens.” Tom sneered as he leaned into her space. The tension ran high.

“You and what army?!” Emma barked as Tom pulled her into a kiss. She pushed at his arms but he held firm. She relented and melted into the kiss. The memories of that night flooded back to her. They parted and turned to look at the six other people in the room. For once, everyone looked Emma and Tom rather than staring at their phones or drinking their coffee.

“Uh… We’ll be in touch.” one of the men said.

Tom shook her hand again, and she walked out of the room. Emma got about halfway down the hallway when a voice rang out.

“WAIT!”

Emma stopped and turned to see the PA from earlier.

“Wait. Can you come with me?”

Emma blinked but followed the petite girl to another room. This one was empty, save a couple chairs and a couch.

“Just wait here, please.” the assistant asked as she gestured towards the couch.

Emma plopped down and kicked her heels off. She pulled her phone and started replying to emails. Twenty minutes passed and then forty-five minutes. After an hour and fifteen minutes, the PA returned and took Emma back into the same room. She expected to see the same group of people as before, no one remained. Except for Tom.

“What’s going on?”

Tom looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact and pushing a nonexistent piece of lint with his shoe.

“I was hoping you would accompany me to dinner?”

“Is that why I have been sitting in a room for over an hour?”

Emma’s face turned red. Tom’s face fell.

“In part. The casting directors wanted to bring you for another reading after everyone else finished, but I insisted it wasn’t necessary.”

Emma’s eyes widened.

“Are you saying I got the part?”

Tom smiled.

“Unofficially, yes. But wait for your agent to give you the news in a few days. Try to act surprised.”

Emma squeed out loud and did a little dance. Without considering the situation, she jumped up and kissed Tom on the lips. He blushed at the sudden contact.

“Does that mean yes to dinner?”

Emma nodded, not realizing what she agreed to until they pulled up to the restaurant.

[agrestenoir]

linearity is over-rated

Summary: How “I love you” follows the story of Marinette and Adrien over the years. A non-linear love story told in 25 parts.

“Where do you want to start?”

“At the beginning.”

  * 

As a hello, Marinette crawls under the covers and sticks her cold feet against the back of his knees. He squirms in response, trying to pull away, and there’s a rustle of sheets and muffled grunts. “Hi,” she tells him, all bright blue eyes and tousled black hair. “I love you.”

Adrien hits her in the face with his pillow. She simply laughs and laughs and laughs.

  * 

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets, he reaches across her bare waist to pull her closer, simply staring at the morning sunlight slipping through the window to wash over her soft, pale body. 

“I love you, you know that?” he says, lips pressed against the back of her neck. 

In his arms, she stirs, casting a simple smile over her shoulder. Blue eyes stare at him without the mask, and it’s all so new and beautiful and still so breathtaking. “Of course, I do,” she tells him in response. “I always have.”

  *

A scream that rips through the Paris sky, wind rushing past as they fall to their deaths from thousands of feet up: “If I never get the chance to tell you, I love you, Ladybug!”

Ladybug tightens her arms around her partner, squeezing her eyes shut because she doesn’t want to see what happens next.

 *

Over a cup of tea, Marinette watches Adrien ponder over his pastry at the little table in her parents’ bakery. “When do you feel like it’s the right time to say you love someone?” The question is something he’s been holding in for days now.

With a sigh, she thinks bitterly of Kagami, all dark eyes and rare beauty that moves with a grace Marinette never could muster. She thinks of the look on Adrien’s face when he sees her, of the soft smile that adjourns his face when her name pops up on his phone screen, the laugh that falls from his lips when he’s talking to her. 

“If you mean it,” she says, “then it’s always the right time.”

 *

Over a beer bottle, she’s drunk and screaming at him. “You think it doesn’t kill me when I see the way you look at her? Of course, it hurts!” Marinette throws the empty bottle onto the floor between them, glass shards bouncing across the hardwood. “I love you! I love you!  Of course, it fucking hurts!” 

The words hold him at gunpoint, and Adrien doesn’t dare move.

  *

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in his hair, Marinette runs a hand through the golden locks and wonders if this is what angels look like. “You’re so beautiful,” she tells him softly like a whisper caught on the edge of the wind. “I love that about you.”

“The billboards must render you catatonic then,” he teases, green eyes sparkling. She squawks and tackles him in retaliation, but he ducks around her, tight and quick, so good at it because it’s a dance they’ve spent ten years learning.

 *

As a thank you, the words fall from his lips without a second thought. “God, I love you.”

His partner of a month quirks an eyebrow over the rim of her coffee cup. “It’s just from Starbucks,” Ladybug says, but it doesn’t matter. 

Chat Noir’s already gone.

 * 

As an apology, he stands in the doorway of her apartment with an intense expression, bangs flustered against his skin from the rain outside, still dripping puddles on the hardwood floor of the hallway. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave, I just…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I love you so much, Mari.” 

It’s not what she wants to hear, but it’s enough for now. With a heavy sigh, she reaches forward and grabs his wrist, tugging him back inside. “You forgot your umbrella,” she tells him, like it makes all the difference.

*

When baking chocolate chip cookies, Adrien stands in a puddle of flour, trying to figure out how long to put them in the oven. From the corner of the kitchen, Marinette covers her mouth with her hand, unable to hide her giggles, because the smartest boy she knows can’t even master the basics of baking.

Her mother, Sabine, pops her head in and smiles at the sight. “So this is the one, huh?” she whispers to her daughter, quirking an eyebrow high. 

Marinette shrugs helplessly. At sixteen, she isn’t sure what she’s found, but she’s pretty sure it’s love.

 *

Not said to her, Adrien holds Kagami’s hand between his, intertwining their fingers in a loose grip, as they hide in the corner of the ballroom as the New Year festivities reach a crescendo. “I know we’ve been together for a long time, and I do love you,” he tells her quietly, a book end to one of the best parts of twenty. “But….” 

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it?” she asks him, dark eyes heavy.

Adrien can only shrug. “I love her. I’m sorry.” 

With a sigh, Kagami gently pulls her hand from his. “It’s okay,” she says. “I think I’ve known for a long time, actually.” 

She lifts up onto her tip-toes and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips as a goodbye, but even as she pulls away, Adrien catches sight of Marinette sitting on the opposite of the room. She’s holding a bottle of Coors Light with a white-knuckled grip, blue eyes steely as they watch him and Kagami. When she sees Adrien staring, she pushes herself to her feet and walks away. 

“Go,” Kagami mumbles under her breath. “Go get her. It’s what you want.”

Like he does with most other things in life, Adrien follows Marinette.

 *

With a shuddering gasp after their first time, Chat Noir falls beside her in the darkness, trying to catch his breath. “God, you’re amazing.” 

In the darkness, she can’t see who he is or what he looks like (which was the whole point in the first place), but she wishes she could with a visceral urge that reminds her of something innate, like remembering how to breathe or how to speak.

Ladybug doesn’t know if she’s falling or if he’s already caught her, but all she knows is that she loves him.

 *

When they lay together in the fresh spring grass, Alya nudges Adrien’s side with her elbow and flashes them a wicked smile. “So when are you gonna tell Marinette you’re in love with her?”

Marinette glares at her from the other side of the picnic blanket as Adrien simply laughs and thinks of Ladybug instead. “Marinette?” he says, confused. “No, she’s just my best friend.” 

But as he muses over it later that night before sleep takes hold, he figures that loving Marinette wouldn’t be the worst thing in life. 

Not at all.

 *

In a letter, scrawled hurriedly in the margins of her latest design, are the words: Mrs. Adrien Agreste. A smile sprouts across his face as he catches sight of it, and a warm blush blossoms over the apples of his cheeks. 

“I love you too,” he tells her as he hands her the sketchbook. “But you know I’m taking your name, right?” 

 * 

A whisper in the ear as Ladybug stands over Hawkmoth, sweat-tangled hair falls out of its updo, and blood-streaked hands grasp the collar of his shirt. “I loved him, and you tried to kill him.” She bears her teeth, eyes wild. “I’m going to destroy you.” 

 *

Loud, so everyone can hear, Adrien stands on her balcony and screams out into the Paris evening air. “I am in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’m not afraid to say it!” 

The twenty-one-year-old has her hands wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to tug him back inside to her bedroom. “No, stop it! I hate you, you asshole! I’m still mad at you, Adrien Agreste!” 

The rain still pours, and she’s getting drenched, but the horrors of the night are simply washing away. Soon, she forgets why she was even mad at him in the first place.

 *

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble, she chatters in his ear, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He struggles not to drop her, confusion etched across his face, because he doesn’t know what it means to come home and have his wife freak out (albeit in a pleasant, perfect sort of way).

“Are you okay?” he has to ask.

Tears glimmering in her blue eyes, she kisses him firmly on the mouth. “I’ve thought a lot about this,” she says. “And we’re going to name her Emma.”

The pregnancy test lays discarded on the bathroom counter, the pink plus sign shining for all the world to see.

 *

When the broken glass litters the floor, Marinette is on her hands and knees picking up the remnants of the vase and roses, unable to meet his heavy gaze. “If you have to leave, then do it.”

Adrien chews on his bottom lip, all chapped and broken, dark shadows under his eyes like never-healing bruises. It’s been that way since his father was arrested three months prior, and no matter what she does, she can’t make him whole again. She can’t make things okay.

“I love you,” he tells her, and she knows what’s coming. “But I need some time, Marinette.”

“Just go,” she says again, gesturing to the front door of her apartment. Outside, it’s rain and lightning and thunder, echoing the storm brewing in her heart. “I can’t be everything, Adrien. Just go find what you need, and leave me alone.”

There’s silence that lingers, thick but fragile, until the sound of the door closing reverberates through the room.

Adrien’s gone. Marinette sits on the floor and cries.

 *

From very far away, Adrien’s voice sounds over the laptop. “Okay, tell Mama I love her, Emmy. Daddy has to go back to work now.”

Emma giggles in response, and there’s the pitter-patter of little footsteps as she runs back to the camera. “Mama says you gotta come home soon.”

“I know, baby.” Adrien smiles softly. “I miss my girls too.”

Emma shakes her head. “Nooo. You miss Hugo too, right?”

“Hugo?”

“My baby brother!” His daughter jumps up and down with unbridled excitement. “Mama’s gonna have another baby!” Suddenly though, her eyes shutter, and she leans close. “But you can’t tell Mama I told you, Daddy, because it’s supposed to be a secret.”

Adrien is silent for a moment, and then… “MARINETTE!!! COME BACK TO THE LAPTOP, RIGHT NOW.”

 *

With no space left between them, the words tumble out, easy and free, “I can’t remember the last time I told you I loved you.” Chat Noir glances at Ladybug with a puzzled expression, unsure how to proceed. “Is that weird?”

His partner sighs and settles against him, the warm Paris night bustling around them. “Probably because it means something different to you now.”

“How so?” he asks.

“Well you’re dating that girl now, right?” She shrugs and shakes her head because there’s not much else to say. “You’re in love with her now.”

“Doesn’t stop me from loving you though,” he tells her honestly, green eyes piercing. She stares at him in bewilderment, and he only laughs. “I mean… I may not be actively pursuing your heart and trying to date the hell out of you anymore, but I just want you to know that you’re still the most important person in my life.”

“…You too, Chat Noir.” Her voice is soft and smooth like glass, and just as easy to break if he wanted too. 

“Ladybug, that’s never going to change.”

*

As they huddle together, the storm raging outside, fifteen-year-old Ladybug shivers against his side and bites out, “Don’t get any funny ideas, chaton.” Despite her rough words, she snuggles deeper against him as they ride out the horrid weather.

“As if you’d ever let me touch you,” he grumbles with a smile, and Ladybug can’t help the bark of laughter that falls from her lips. “But I swear you’ll fall in love with me someday, Ladybug.”

“Keep dreaming, Chat Noir.”

“Gladly.”

 *

Over her shoulder, she glances back and him and quirks a brow high. “I love you, but you’re being ridiculous if you think I’m getting into this school.”

Adrien groans and falls back on her bed, her university results clutched in his hand, still sealed in their respective envelopes. “Mari, when are you going to realize how awesome you are? You are singlehandedly the best person I know, so why can’t you see it yourself?”

Marinette simply smiles in response and snatches the letter from his hand, still not opening it. “Careful,” she tells him. “You don’t want Kagami to hear that.”

Adrien doesn’t know what his girlfriend has to do with things, but he pushes Marinette to open the letter from Esmond anyway.

She’s accepted. He’s not surprised.

 *

Muffled, from the other side of the door, his voice comes through. “Come on, Marinette, please let me in. I love you.” She shudders at his words as they echo through their shared bedroom, too afraid to flip the lock and let him in. “I didn’t mean to take the shot for you, but when it’s your life at stake, I’ll do anything. You know that.”

She doesn’t answer because her heart is screaming in her chest, banging against her rib cage like a wild animal desperate to let out. Marinette doesn’t know what she would even say to him though, too caught up in that flash-second of him freefalling and getting hit by the akuma. It’s been two years since Gabriel Agreste was arrested and Adrien almost died, but the newest Hawkmoth, just as clever and chaotic as the last, has a habit of bringing back those dark times.

Adrien bangs against the door again, but Marinette still won’t open it. When his life means everything to her, she can’t speak her peace without their being some sort of repercussions.

So she lets him keep screaming, and she keeps crying, because they are both two souls willing to put their lives on the line when they mean the universe to each other.

It’s a hard hand to deal.

 *

Through a song, his hands dance across the piano keys. “My mom played this at her wedding,” he tells her, eyes distant and lost in a memory. “It’s one of the first songs she ever taught me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Marinette muses, just listening to the soft notes fill the air. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a love story,” he says. “It’s always a love story.”

 *

Without really meaning it, as the flour explodes in her face, streaks of white dusting her skin and hair, Adrien erupts into laughter. “Oh my god, you suck at baking too,” he says breathlessly, body shaking. “God, I love you.”

Marinette stills, smile frozen on her face as the weight of it crashes over her. “You love me?” she asks.

He stares at her in confusion. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

The smile on her face grows larger, and all she can think is how much she wants to hear him say it again.

 *

In a blissful sigh as she falls asleep, the sound reaches Chat Noir as he pauses in the doorway of the bathroom. “I love you,” comes Ladybug’s voice.

Suddenly, the bruises on his hips and the marks on his neck ache like something furious. He bites his bottom lip and tries to pretend like he didn’t hear a damn thing. They promised that the sex didn’t mean anything, so the thought of Ladybug without barriers letting that pass makes his pitiful heart jump into overdrive.

What does it even matter if you won’t say it to my face? He closes his eyes and shakes his head and wonders if it’s finally time to move on.

He calls Kagami in the morning.

 *

Broken, as Ladybug clutches the sleeve of his jacket and begs him not to leave, the words fall from pale lips, stammered and rushed. “You can’t just end it like this.”

The winter swells around them in a swirl of blistery air, snow clutching onto the red of her suit and the curls in her hair, and she stands like an ethereal angel, but the sight just breaks his heart. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Chat Noir,” she whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m always going to be your partner,” he tells her. “But I can’t be anything else.” He licks his lips in thought, trying to salvage their fracturing relationship. “There’s a girl outside the mask who’s not afraid to love me, and I could see something real happening with her.”

“Please.” There’s tears now, and he’s at a loss for words.

“Ladybug…”

“Just don’t leave me. Please.”

 *

A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at his lips, he stands in the living room with his hands on his hips. “You think just because I love you that I’m going to your stuffy office party? That’s not how this works, my lady.”

Marinette squeals and snatches one of the pillows off the sofa and throws it at him. “I married you, you ass, it’s in our fucking wedding vows. You don’t have a choice.”

He catches the pillow effortlessly. “Look, my father dragged me to one too many of those when I was a kid. I’m not sitting through that torture again.”

“You said in sickness and in health,” she reminds him with a heated glare. She skips around the couch, coming closer to Adrien. “That includes company parties where I have to listen to Chloe Bourgeois for hours and hours. You’re stuck with me.”

“I will never—OH SHIT!” He doesn’t catch his wife this time, as she leaps into the air and tackles him to the ground.

 *

When they’re dead, Paris mourns Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette and Adrien watch on television from their dark living room, Hugo and Emma asleep between them, with heavy hearts as the city grieves the loss of their heroes.

“Did we do the right thing?” Adrien asks her, eyes haunted with the ghosts of the last battle.

“I don’t know,” she tells him softly, voice hollow. On screen, people cry, and her own tear drips down her cheek like candlewax, thick and slow. “What I do know is that I love you, and I never want to lose you.”

Outside, it’s raining.

It’s always raining.

 *

 Slowly, the words dripping from his tongue like honey, he spells out the truth she’s waited desperately to hear. “You are my best friend, Marinette, and my partner, Ladybug... and I love you.” He runs a hand through her hair, eyes softening as he presses his forehead against hers. “I just want to be with you.”

Outside, fireworks erupt as it strikes midnight, and Paris rings in the new year with a joyous applause. Inside, they find sanity in the spaces between their shared heartbeats, hot and heavy breathes warming pink, cool skin, as they take comfort in the feeling of finally being together.

 *

Too quick, mumbled into his scarf, she asks him to say it again.

A light pink dusts the tips of his ears as Adrien clears his throat. “I said, ‘I love you, please marry me.’”

Flabbergasted, she can only stare at him. “But we’ve only been dating for a year.”

Instead of answering, Adrien simply shrugs, that stupid scarf falling off one shoulder with the movement. “So? We’ve basically been together since we were fifteen anyway.”

Marinette is silent, and he fingers the frayed ends of his sleeves, refusing to look at her. There’s a short pause, the span of a single heartbeat, and then she’s dragging him close by the scarf to kiss him.

 *

In awe, the first time he realizes it, Ladybug stands on the Eiffel Tower with a proud smile, Paris safe and the world becoming something new. Her blue eyes burn with something bright, dark hair whipping in the wind, and she’s all red and black, just like his heart as it pounds harder and harder for this girl he just met. 

 “I love that girl,” he says like a promise.

*

In a way she can’t return, Chat Noir leaps in front of her as Hawkmoth strides forward with his rapier, the thin metal piercing through his armor, gleaming red with his blood under the afternoon sun.

Ladybug’s eyes widen with horror as she stares up at him, too shocked to comprehend what she’s seeing. “No…” she whispers, voice cracking.

“I love you,” are the last words he manages before he collapses, broken body barely breathing. 

Ladybug’s screams echo through the city. Hawkmoth continues his rampage.

*

On a post-it note, his messy handwriting adjourns the neon green paper on their fridge. Holding their sleeping daughter in her arms, she lets a soft smile stretch across her face as she reads it: Have to jet to London for a meeting. Be back soon! Love you both <3

“Silly daddy,” Marinette whispers to the toddler. “I was gonna tell him about your new brother today.”

 *

Before they jump, Chat Noir grabs her hand and yells out above the explosions as Hawkmoth continues his attack on Paris, the Eiffel Tower shuddering beneath them. “If we survive this, I’m gonna marry the hell out of you someday!”

Ladybug shakes her head. “You don’t even know my name!”

“Doesn’t matter if we’re gonna die anyway!”

She squeezes back and screams, “For what it’s worth, it’s Marinette!”

 * 

As a goodbye, Adrien smiles that awful broken, cracked thing. “I love you… but there’s so much that we have to deal with, and I don’t know if I can right now.” 

“I’ve loved you for years,” Marinette tells him, eyes glinting angrily form her spot on the sofa. “As Marinette, as Ladybug…”

“But there’s Kagami.” He ducks his head from view, glancing at the exit instead. “She doesn’t know yet, and with everything that just went down, I think I need a little time to… process.” 

She sighs and crosses her arms against her chest, smiling bitterly. “I can’t believe the two people I love are the same person… and I can’t have either of them.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just walks away. 

*

And when she tells him, with that soft, sad smile, wrapped in the sheeting the first morning after. “I’m going to love you forever,” she says to him, asleep and blissfully unaware. “Just try to stop me.”

[targaryenimagines]

The Queen We Chose

Emilia Clarke x Reader

Word Count: 1,620

Summary: She would always be the queen you chose.

Warnings: None

A/N: I didn't actually watch the Emmy's that night so I apologize if the cast interview is out of place. I just thought it fit for what I was going for. I hope you all don't mind.

When you were younger all you wanted to do was write.

No matter the subject or length all you wanted to do was make another world using only your words. You wanted to create places that others could immerse themselves in. You wanted to make others see the beauty of the written word and all that it provided.

It's a dream that kept you going ever since you first picked up a pencil and put it to paper. A dream that has only flourished as you've grown older. Learning the etiquette that is involved when making a world so unlike your own. The mannerisms of the people only you could, truly, see the center of.

It was a dream that led you to where your entire life started. A dream that brought you into the team of writers that made Game of Thrones a reality. That brought so many emotions into fruition through the long reign it had.

It was a dream that brought you to the reality that you now lived in. A reality that you never wanted to find out was a dream. A reality where you met the love of your life.

Emilia Clarke.

The woman who not only inspires you every day but thousands, if not millions, of people every day. She showed you that even though people couldn't see your strength didn't mean it wasn't there. She showed you everything beautiful in the world, and everything in between. She was the one that you know you would spend the rest of your life with. She was the one that completed you in every single way.

Every moment with her was like when you first picked up that pencil, it opens up a whole new world of possibilities. Of endless dreams that are only waiting to be discovered. Endless possibilities that you couldn't wait to see with her.

A thought that brings a smile to your face as you stare out the window. Your gaze sweeping over the bustling street below you. Seeing all the people moving in such chaotic harmony causes your smile to grow just a little more. You have always marveled at how seamlessly big cities seem to work. All of its people moving in a perfect disorder with one another that when combined made a perfect symphony.

You could see the twinkling of the stars from where you stood. The moon hanging just above them like an unmovable guardian. Its soft rays permeating the sky making it glow silver. It was a sight that was only beaten by one thing.

The sight that stands in front of you when you turn around.

Emilia's sparkling gaze staring at you, twinkling just like the stars that hang above you. Her beautiful smile causing them to shine even more. It was a sight that would always enrapture you and nothing would ever beat it.

That you were sure of.

Moving towards her you couldn't help the fact that your gaze swept down her figure. The beautiful blue dress complimenting her eyes perfectly. Her perfect hair falling down passed her shoulders. Her skin seemingly glowing underneath the moonlight. It was a sight you know the ancient Greeks must have seen when they first saw Aphrodite. It was a sight that all great artists aspire to create, a masterpiece. Beauty and grace all rolled up into your adorable dork of a woman.

Wrapping your arms, lightly, around her waist once you get closer you nuzzle your nose against hers. Watching as the cute crinkle appears when she scrunches it in response.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear you speak, your voice full of warmth and affection. "Are you sure you're ready Em?"

"I have never been more ready for anything in my life," she responds, her eyes softening as she stares at you. A sight that causes you to lean in and peck her lips. Not wanting to disturb the flawless makeup on her face.

Stepping back with a large grin on your face you extend your hand. Feeling warmth and happiness when you feel her soft hand slip into your own. Your hands slotting together like puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.

"Then let's go."

-----

The flashing of the lights blind you as you get out of the limo. For a moment you're stunned before your senses come back to you. Quickly moving to the other side of the limo you open Emilia's door. Extending your hand to help her out with a large smile adorning your face. You were sure all the photographers were capturing how you were gazing at Emilia as she steps out.

You, also, know that the pictures would never come close to how you really feel. They would never encapsulate the true depth of your emotions for her. Emotions that ran deeper than any sea and farther then any universe. Your love was boundless and nothing would ever be able to replicate it.

Wrapping your arm around her waist you start the arduous journey that was the red carpet. You could hear the chattering of the people around you and the photographers shouting at both you and Emilia, but you were only zoned in on her. When she stopped to smile so did you. When she stopped to give an interview you stayed beside her the entire time. Never leaving her side for even a moment.

For you know that no matter how much this night meant to her it was riddled with pain. The pain of knowing that she was celebrating what happened to Daenerys. She would be accepting an award for playing Daenerys while knowing, and remembering, exactly what happened.

Exactly what you had to write all those months ago.

So you stay beside her through it all. Never wavering or faltering because she needed you. No matter how strong she may look you could tell she was in pain. Seeing the rest of the cast only causes your heart to twist that much more.

Though seeing Kit and Iain, along with Nathalie, was always a pleasure. You could already feel your smile appear by the sight of them. However, that smile dims slightly when you see Dan and David, but you didn't let Emilia see it. You didn't want your own feelings to stack on top of hers.

You greet the cast once you are near them. Kit wrapping you tightly in his arms when you open yours. Iain doing the same when Kit is done. While Nathalie simply throws her arm around your shoulders and squeeze.

"I'm glad you've been there for her. I don't know what she would have done if you weren't there," Nathalie whispers, softly, not wanting anyone else to hear.

Her words cause a familiar bubble of anger to rise up. Though you weren't angry at Nathalie you were angry at your 'bosses'. The one's who made Daenerys go mad because of the shock value. Who rushed through the ending and refuse to take the backlash and admit they did a shit job. Who leave it all up to Emilia and the rest to take the fall. While belittling the fans who decide to stick by Daenerys, and the characters original arcs.

"I don't know what I would have done either," you respond, glad that your anger was kept to a minimum within your voice. However by the sly look Nathalie sends you, you can tell she picked up on it and understands it.

Moving with Nathalie as the cast lines up to do a quick interview together, you slip back beside Emilia. Gently brushing your arm against hers in a silent show of affection. Seeing her smile out of the corner of your eye causes your own to form.

However it quickly falls when the interviewer asks his question.

“There was a lot of controversy about the ending and I’m wondering how you reacted to that… especially regarding, of course, the dragon queen.”

You could feel Emilia stiffen besides you immediately.

"What?" she says, horrified, when pain flashes across her face for a moment before she goes down. Crouching like a scared child would when they didn't want to be seen. It was a sight that absolutely broke your heart. Immediately crouching down next to her you gently bring your hand to rest against her arm. Meeting her gaze with a loving smile and warmth. Wrapping your arm around her you help her stand, and see that Kit has stepped forward to answer the question.

Of course dumb and dumber wouldn't.

You could see that Emilia was trying to smile but she was clearly saddened by the sudden question. You know that she wasn't ready to talk about Daenerys yet, and you know that the question has shaken her to her core. A fact that causes your body to stiffen in anger.

Forcing your body to relax you lean in and whisper in her ear. Your words filled with a loving conviction that told her how serious you were. "It doesn't matter what anyone says, Em, Daenerys will always be the amazing benevolent woman that you have played her as. What she should have become instead of some stepping stone for the rushed ending they made. You are amazing and so is Daenerys, you've kept her alive in everyone's hearts and souls. You will, and always will be the queen we chose."

You watch as her beautiful eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she stares at you. Leaning in she kisses you gently before nuzzling into your embrace, which causes your arms to tighten around her.

For she was your star and you were her moon.

Always standing guard for now and forevermore.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 72a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

"Are we there yet?!" Tilly whined from the back of the car.

Emily sighed, why had she gotten stuck sitting next to Tilly for the long car ride to their summer holiday by the beach?

“No Tilly, not there yet.” Charlie called back to his daughter.

“What’s wrong Emmy?” Lottie asked who was sat on the other side of Emily.

"I wanted to sleep." Emily replied with a sigh. "But she won't stop chattering."

“That’s just Tilly, Tilly never stops chattering.” Lottie replied as she smiled at her older sister.

"I wish I'd gone in mum's car now." Emily grumbled.

Louis put his feet up on the dashboard in the front seat, glaring out the window.

“What’s wrong with you, Louis?” Charlie asked.

"Wanna go home."

“Well you’re not, so please don’t spoil the holiday.”

"Fine." Louis sulked.

Over in the other car things weren't going much better.

"Mum! Oli stinks!" Jake complained.

"Oh not again." Duffy sighed.

Oli wasn’t feeling so good, he had a bit of a belly ache.

Peter shook his head, “Oli’s poo’d again?"

"Seems that way. I guess it could be worse..."

She'd barely gotten the words out when there was the sound of vomiting from the back seat.

"Ew! Gross!" Jake yelled.

"Can you call your dad and tell him we'll have to stop again?" Duffy asked Peter.

“Jake! It’s a bit of sick.” Peter nodded, “Yeah I’ll ring dad.”

"Its everywhere!" Jake complained.

Duffy sighed as she tried to find somewhere to pull over.

Oli began to cry, not liking the fact he’d been sick down himself. Peter tried to keep the tot distracted.

About five minutes later Duffy finally found a service station carpark to turn into, the sound of Oliver's screaming making her ears ring. She stopped the car and got out to take her youngest out of his carseat.

He was sobbing, resting his head in the crook of his mum’s neck. “Mama.” He kept saying.

Duffy stroked his back, relieved when she saw Charlie's car pull up alongside her own.

“Everyone alright?” Charlie asked as he got out, “Not tried to run anymore telephone poles down have you?” He joked to Duffy.

Duffy rolled her eyes at him as she turned Oli in her arms so Charlie could see him properly. "He's a little poorly." She explained just as the little boy was sick once more.

“Oh my poor baby” Charlie approached Oli and stroked his cheek, “Mummy's driving do that to you?”

"There is nothing wrong with my driving!" Duffy sulked.

"Can I ride in your car for the rest of the way?" Jake asked his dad.

“Why?” Charlie asked Jake.

"I'll swap!" Emily offered.

"The car stinks!" Jake complained.

"I don't care. Tilly is so annoying!"

“Alright, Deal.” Jake held his hand out for Emily to shake.

Emily moved to shake her brother's hand but instead pulled back and wrinkled her nose. "Ew, you smell Jake!"

“What?” Jake groaned. “Really?”

Emily giggled as she watched the panic on her brother's face. "Nah, not really!"

Jake shook his head fondly, “You’re so cheeky!”

"Got ya good!" Emily giggled.

Meanwhile Duffy and Charlie were arguing over who was gunna clean up Oli and who was going to tackle the car.

“I’ll take the car.” Charlie told her, knowing he’d never win.

"Thank you. Good luck with the stitching." She threw over her shoulder as she grabbed the change bag and took Oli inside.

Charlie tried to clean up the car as much as he could, it wasn’t easy.

Duffy returned several minutes later with a happier looking Oli. "Is he still grumpy?" She asked, referring to Louis.

“Yes.” Charlie replied, “Wants to go home.”

"Typical. I do hope he cheers up when we get there or its going to be a very long two weeks." She sighed, juggling Oliver onto her hip.

“Yes it will be.”

"Do you promise not to be sick or poop again?" She asked Oliver as he snuggled against her shoulder.

Oli yawned.

"Maybe he'll sleep the rest of the way." Duffy sighed optimistically, shifting him again so she could rub her lower back that was beginning to ache again.

“Is your back giving you jip?” Charlie asked as he rubbed her lower back.

"I think it's coz I've been sat driving for so long. Puts the baby in an awkward position."

“We can stop off for a bit? Feed the chaotic ones?”

"That's a good idea. Let them run off a bit of steam. Can you get the buggy out?"

Charlie went out of the car and got the kids out along with the pram. They spent a bit of time grabbing lunch and the younger ones had a play in the play area.

Oli snoozed through the whole thing, snuggled up in his buggy with a fresh blanket. Now he’d finished pooing and being sick, he felt much better.

"Look at me!" Tilly giggled, standing on top of a huge climbing frame.

“Tilly, please be careful.” Charlie swallowed, suddenly feeling very tense and anxious.

"I'm super girl!" She declared, standing on one leg.

"Tilly, for goodness sake be careful!" Duffy gasped.

“Tilly, please be careful.” Charlie begged his daughter. If she fell...

"Do you dare me to jump off Lottie?" Tilly yelled at her twin who was on the climbing frame below her.

“Don’t be silly, Tilly. You’ll hurt yourself.”

"Tilly get down!" Duffy replied sternly.

“But mum! I’m having fun!” Tilly protested.

"Just be careful, I don't want you to spend the school holidays in plaster."

“I’ll be ok mum. Look.” Tilly went to jump down from the top of the climbing frame but lost her footing. Luckily Charlie - with his quick reflexes - caught her. Both of them tumbled to the floor.

"Shit! Are you OK?" Duffy gasped as she came over as quickly as she could.

“Oft, Tots.” Charlie whispered.

"I'm ok. Daddy's squishy!" Tilly giggled.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Charlie asked Tilly, stroking her cheek.

"Bashed my arm." She admitted.

“Where?” He sat up with Tilly in his arms.

She pointed to her wrist.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Duffy asked Charlie pointedly as she crouched awkwardly beside him.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”

"Hmm..." Duffy replied, unconvinced. "Please tell me you don't think its broken." She sighed.

“No, just a sprain. But we should keep an eye on it.”

"Oh Tilly you silly sausage!"

"Louis come back here now!" Peter yelled from the other side of the play area.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked concerned about all the shouting.

"Louis wandered off again." Jake replied, a bored tone to his voice.

“Alright. How about we all get back in the car?” Charlie suggested, “And start the journey again?”

"Good idea." Duffy sighed, holding her hand out towards her husband.

He took her hand in his.

Duffy used her other hand to clamber back to her feet.

“Are you alright?” He asked Duffy.

"I'm fine. Don't fuss."

“Are you sure?”

"Yes. I just want to get to our holiday cottage and relax."

“Me too.” He kissed her cheek, “Come on kids! Let’s go!"

"And you stop being such a fuss bum!" She giggled, tickling his sides.

“I can’t help it.” Charlie protested.

"I know you can't but I'm fine. Just the usual twinges and aches."

“Ok, good.”

Luckily the rest of the journey was uneventful and they were soon pulling up outside the holiday cottage.

Duffy put her hands up in defeat and rolled her eyes as she saw the glares Charlie and Peter were giving her as she walked towards the boot of her car.

Peter helped his dad get everything out of the car and take it into the cottage.

The kids immediately tore through the cottage to check out the bedrooms. Whilst her siblings fought over the bigger rooms Emily slipped up to the small converted loft which had an amazing view out the skylight. Emily sat on the bed and smiled. It was quiet and peaceful up here.

Peter wasn't overly impressed to have to share with his two younger brothers but it was either that or the sofa.

“It’s only for two weeks.” Charlie told Peter.

Duffy decided to let Charlie deal with the arguments over the sleeping arrangements whilst she took the cup of tea she'd just made out onto the patio.

After about thirty minutes of playing referee, everyone eventually liked their rooms and stopped bickering.

Hearing Charlie appear in the doorway Duffy leaned back in her chair to catch his eye. "Everyone happy now?"

He sat down on the doorstep and nodded, “Everyone's stopped arguing... for now.” He laughed gently, Oli on his lap, the tot wanted to get down and play in the garden.

"That's good. He seems to have finally perked up." She smiled.

Charlie placed Oli down so he could play in the garden. “Two weeks of rest... can’t wait.”

"Hmm... Sun, sea and..." She smirked.

“Sex?” He smirked.

"...sand!" She finished with a giggle.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Of course! Sand!”

"What else would you expect at the beach?"

He grinned, “Do you really want to know what’s on my mind right now?”

"I don't think I need to ask..!"

He chuckled, “Probably for the best actually darling.”

"Cover your ears Oliver!" She giggled.

Oliver giggled softly as he stared at his parents.

"He's such an independent little soul isn't he?" She smiled.

He nodded as he sat beside Duffy. “Far too independent.”

She sighed contentedly as she rested against her husband.

[obsidianarchives]

Black Girl Does Magic: It's Purpose

Daisy sat in the hushed library, stealing glances at Jordan who sat across from her. He was focused, his brow slightly furrowed as he scribbled on his parchment. It had been about a month since Daisy stood up to Monroe and began her friendship with Jordan. Through a surge of empowerment, she started speaking up more in class and continued to excel in her Independent Study with Professor Aphor. In addition, her friendship with Jordan had evolved from amicable hallway conversations, to lengthy study dates. Although Jordan never made a romantic move on Daisy, or hinted at anything other than friendship, she appreciated his company and thoughtful insight.

“What are you thinking?” Jordan whispered, snapping Daisy out of her introspection.

“What? Nothing,” she said, her face warming. She went back to her Advanced Potions book, desperate for a word to focus on.

He smiled and went back to his parchment. “You’re thinking about something, Daisy. I can tell,” he said without looking up.

“You cannot.”

He looked her, his deep brown eyes holding hers. He raised one eyebrow, making her breath stutter-step. He continued searching her face—there was nowhere for her to hide. She felt her face blaze in embarrassment as she fought to control her hair color. After what seemed like hours, Jordan nodded like he finally understood everything he needed to know about her, and then went back to his homework.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He read her without the use of magic. Until now, that was something only her mother could do. He looked up again and smiled—his full lips spreading over perfectly white teeth.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell,” he whispered, giving her a flicker of a wink.

“Te-tell what,” she managed to choke out. He only shrugged, continuing to read. Her face was molten. She was sure her hair was bright pink. What did he see? What did he know about her that she hadn’t already shared with him? Part of her felt like he was teasing but his confidence gave her fright—maybe he did know something more. Maybe he knew she liked him and was desperate to feel his lips on hers. Maybe he knew she was worried that it was all a dream—that she’d wake up and discover they weren’t really friends at all. Or maybe he knew she was a Metamorphmagus and was upset she didn’t tell him. Her mind took off in thought; as much as she wanted to reel it back, she couldn’t. She felt exposed. Naked. An invisibility cloak couldn’t keep her from Jordan Johnson’s penetrating stare.

***

Daisy and Jordan walked to Gryffindor Tower in silence. The halls were quiet save for a soft whoosh of wind seeping through the stone walls. The flickering of candles cast an ethereal haze over the castle. Daisy wanted to pressure Jordan for more information about what he thought he knew about her, but she didn’t. She stayed quiet, too nervous to ask.

“Still in thought, huh,” Jordan said with a chuckle.

His laughter set her off—who did he think he was, making fun of her like that? “Whatever, Jordan. You don’t know anything about me,” she snapped, holding her books tight to her chest. He cast a quick glance down at her as her face tightened in defiance.

He laughed again, “You want to hide but I see you,” he said, stopping to face her. “I see you because you don’t want to be seen. You hide in the shadows, afraid someone’s going to notice how smart, beautiful, and talented you are. I see you because I want to. I want to know you; I pay attention because you’re worth knowing.”

Daisy was sure she had turned into a fine mist and blown away from the sheer power of his words. She never experienced this type of friendship before—this closeness…to a boy. She’d thought she had been close to Howard, but somehow this was different. She talked to Jordan about everything—she couldn’t help it. Like telling him she wanted to open her own Potions Shop, she’d just blurted out—she never felt compelled to share that part of herself with Howard. She and Jordan talked about school, family, and life after Hogwarts. He told her how he wanted to try out for a professional Quidditch team even though his father already had a position for him at the Ministry of Magic. She told him how much she adored Professor Aphor and how having a Black instructor changed everything for her. Jordan was right—she did want to hide, but somehow he made it easy for her not to.

“I don’t know what to say,” Daisy said after a moment.

“I know something else,” he said.

“What?”

“That you like me.”

“Of course I like you, Jordan. You’re my friend.”

“No, Daisy. That you like me as more than a friend,” he said. He took a step toward her, his gaze intent. She wanted to move but couldn’t—she felt like she had been hit with a Freezing Charm. He continued, softly, “I hope I’m not moving too fast. The last thing I want to do is scare you away; more than anything, I want you to know that I like you too…as more than a friend.” He was in her personal space, his eyes on hers. She felt safe. After a moment, she smiled; Jordan smiled back and grabbed her hand. It was warm to the touch, so large it enveloped hers. He gave her hand a soft squeeze, as his eyes slid over her face up to her topknot. He gave the briefest of pauses, a flicker of bewilderment—her hair had finally betrayed her.

She cast a downward gaze, “What color is it?” she asked, almost inaudibly.

“Bright pink.”

She refused to look at him as she slowly changed it back.

“Don’t,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.”

She beamed, freeing her emotions, not giving another thought to her hair. Jordan smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.

“A Metamorphmagus…,” he whispered, shaking his head with a smile. He squeezed her hand again as they resumed walking. “No more hiding. Okay?”

She held his hand tighter, allowing her head to rest on his arm. “Okay.”

***

“Settle down, please,” Professor Aphor said as everyone continued to clean up before being dismissed. “I have an announcement. Since all of you have shown exceptional growth this term, we will be having a Potions Tournament at the end of the month. It will be a process of elimination, starting with easy potions, moving to more advanced. The last man or woman standing from all of my classes, will receive 250 House Points and a trip to my Alma Mater, Uagadou School of Magic, where they’ll participate in the Mountains of the Moon Potions Tournament. I get the feeling some of you need to see a world beyond Europe,” she said with a smirk. “Make sure you sign up by the end of the week,” she added as the class buzzed with excitement.

“You have to win!” Emmy said, looking at Daisy. Daisy nodded as a ball of anxiety rolled around her stomach. She grabbed her books and started out.

“Miss Atwater, a word before you go,” Professor Aphor said over the classroom chatter. Daisy turned around and headed towards Professor Aphor who shimmered with excitement.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“Think about what?” Daisy said.

“About the tournament, Daisy.”

“I don’t know…I mean…” Daisy couldn’t find the words. Whatever confidence she’d recently acquired seemed to escape her. As much as she was proud of the work she was doing with Professor Aphor, she didn’t think she could beat Seventh Year Potions students, let alone travel to Africa and represent Hogwarts in an actual Potions tournament. Although the dungeon was lit as bright as Professor Aphor could get it, Daisy could feel the darkness beckoning her. The shadows that she spent so much time in were desperate for her return; it wasn’t as if she’d truly escaped anyway. Maybe one foot out—she could hold Jordan’s hand or answer a question in class, but she wasn’t really free. She could tell; the thought of letting her talent for Potions excel made her feel inadequate instead of empowered.

“What’s wrong?” Professor Aphor asked. “And please be honest.”

“I don’t think I can do it. I mean, I can try but I don’t think I can win…” Daisy’s voice trailed off.

“Why don’t you think you can win? Don’t you know how exceptional you are?”

Daisy didn’t respond. She knew Professor Aphor was going well above the call of duty to encourage her. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that this tournament was too much. The look in the professor’s eyes, even Emmy’s eyes for that matter—a look that expected her to win made Daisy want to crawl in bed and sleep for weeks. Professor Aphor let out a deep sigh.

“I can only do so much, dear,” she said after a long pause. “Only you can discover how brilliant you are. I encourage you to participate in the tournament but that’s all I can do...nothing more,” she said, softly. “You can go.” Daisy felt tears sting her eyes; she wanted to be brave, courageous—a true Gryffindor, but she couldn’t find the strength to do so.

Emerging from the dungeon stairs, Daisy ran into Emmy who looked panicked.

“Daisy! Hey!” Emmy said, way too loud.

Daisy frowned as she continued walking, “What’s wrong with you?”

 “What?! Nothing,” she said, almost shrieking.

“You seem crazy,” Daisy said, almost grateful for the break of worrying about her own problems.

“Oh, ha ha. I had too much pumpkin juice, you know how I get. Sugar and all,” Emmy said, manic.

“What’s for lunch?”

“Are you hungry? You don’t look it. I have some snacks in my room—why don’t we go to the Common Room and I’ll get them,” Emmy said, trying to lead Daisy away from the Great Hall.

“Yes, I’m hungry, Emmy and I don’t want snacks, what’s wrong with—” but before Daisy could complete her thought, she saw Monroe and Howard walking hand-in-hand down the hall. Monroe giggled like a Third Year as Howard puffed out his chest. She kissed him on the cheek which led to them snogging for a full minute before she led him up the stairs and out of sight. Daisy felt like she had swallowed a handful of Puking Pastilles.

She looked at Emmy, who was on the verge of tears. “She’s a cow, Daisy. And he’s a…a…I don’t know what but they deserve each other. And, you have Jordan so who cares what they do,” she said, her voice cracking. Daisy felt dazed; although her brain told her feet to move, the message got lost in translation. She heard Monroe’s distinct giggle in the distance as her stomach grew a bezoar-size knot in her stomach. Emmy’s voice seemed to fade as Daisy’s brain finally moved her down the hall. She felt her tears melt into her cheeks as her pace increased to a run. She wanted—no, needed to be alone.

***

Daisy sat on the cool steps of a desolate, hidden stairwell and cried. She couldn’t stop the heaving, couldn’t stop the pain, the hurt, the rage. As much as she didn’t like Howard, seeing him with Monroe made her feel infinitesimal. Insignificant. Invisible. On top of that, as much as she wanted to make Professor Aphor proud and compete in the Potions Tournament, she just didn’t feel good enough. Smart enough. Like all of her hard work wouldn’t materialize when she needed it to—that she was occupying a space made for someone else. She took a deep ragged breath and cried. She succumbed to the darkness, reestablishing her place in the shadows. Although it felt uncomfortable—that she shouldn’t be there, that maybe she’d outgrown that place, she still felt at home.

Later, Daisy climbed through the portrait hole, her eyes swollen from crying. It was late. The Common Room was dark, dimly lit from a low fire. It took her a moment to realize Jordan had fallen asleep on the sofa—curled into a ball. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew he stayed up waiting for her. She eased in to watch him, standing near but not too close. His face was beautiful in the warm light—relaxed, peaceful. She felt guilty for him liking her—like she was an inconvenience. As much as she wanted to pull away from him, she found herself inching closer. After a moment, she thought better of reaching out to touch his face and turned around to tip out when—

“Daisy?”

Daisy stopped, closing her eyes in self-admonishment. Why didn’t she just go up to the girls’ dormitory when she walked in? She turned around and gave him a small smile. He let out a sigh and stood, walking to her with relief on his face.

“I was worried about you,” he said, moving in for a hug. Daisy took a step back, not wanting to be touched, especially by him.

“Jordan, I can’t,” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, just stood, looking at her. “Please stop looking at me like that.”

“What do you want me to do, Daisy? Walk away?”

“Yes…” she said, more to herself than him.

“Why?” he asked, his voice deep with disappointment, bordering on irritation. She didn’t answer for an extended pause.

“I just…I don’t feel like…” she couldn’t seem to find the words. How could she explain that she didn’t want her darkness to rub off on him? That she didn’t want him to become lost in the shadows?

“Tell me that you don’t like me. That our friendship means nothing to you. That you’re going to throw it away because you’re having a tough go of it,” he said, his words coming out faster with intent and concern.

“I can’t get out of this, Jordan,” she said, almost pleading. “I can’t break this. The darkness has me. I can’t escape…”

He took a step toward her, “I’m here, Daisy.”

“But I don’t want you to be,” she snapped. “You can’t save me, Jordan. I looked to Howard for that—to make me feel better, like I was important. All I ended up doing was losing myself in someone who didn’t see me.”

“I. See. You,” Jordan said, taking another step, closing the distance between them. “I’m not trying to rescue you, Daisy. You can’t lose yourself in me because I won’t let you; I don’t need that from you.”

Daisy shook her head in an attempt to make his words disappear.

“I need you to be you,” Jordan continued. “To see yourself. But like you said, you’re in the dark. Let me be the light so that you can see how magnificent you are,” he said, softly.

Daisy closed her eyes, fighting a wave of aggressive tears. Why was he doing this? This sort of attention made her uneasy; it pulled her out of her dark, safe space to a world that she was unable to control.

“Look at me, Daisy,” he said with calm authority.

She could feel her pulse in her ears; she slowly opened her eyes, locking them on his. The fire smoldered to the point that although she was looking at him, she could barely detect the details of his face. Jordan stepped into her space; she could feel the heat of his body as he reached one arm around her, resting his hand on the small of her back to bring her closer. Their bodies touched. She felt the energy in her body shift directions. She couldn’t define it but she knew something was different.

Jordan brandished his wand and whispered, “Lumos.” Suddenly they were bathed in light; it chased the darkness of insecurity away, leaving truth. She could see his eyes and as she clung to him, she felt like she could see herself—the way she should be seen: Strong. Empowered. Intelligent. Tenacious. Beautiful.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, boldly. And without hesitation, Jordan placed his lips on hers. She breathed him in as he tightened his grip around her. Their lips and tongues melded into a hot, passionate connection of recognition and assurance. She didn’t feel rescued by Jordan; she felt seen by him and rescued by herself.

***

Daisy walked into the Potions dungeon a few days later to find Professor Aphor standing over a small bubbling cauldron. She looked up out of concentration and locked eyes with Daisy, smiling broadly.

Daisy’s hair was released into an enormous, thick and curly pink Afro. Her robes were open to expose a unique take on her school uniform. Instead of a baggy sweater, tie, shirt and dark pants, Daisy wore a fitted, crisp white shirt, and V-neck sweater with a bow-tie in Gryffindor colors, a dark pencil length skirt that hit a her knee and cute Mary Jane heels. She stood in confidence, the room seemed to brighten with her in it.

“Miss Atwater…” Professor Aphor said, her grin even bigger. She opened her arms and instinctively, Daisy ran into them. She hugged Professor Aphor with all of her might with the professor returning the intensity.

“Thank you,” Daisy said as Professor Aphor slowly rocked Daisy back and forth, softly stroking her hair.

“My pleasure, dear girl. It’s been my absolute pleasure.” After a moment, they pulled away, both wiping away stray tears.

“You…” Daisy started, but couldn’t finish as she was choked up with emotional gratitude. Professor Aphor grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You are everything,” she managed to get out. Professor Aphor smiled through her tears, unable to say much in return. “Thank you for seeing me. For taking me in. For encouraging me, teaching me, taking time with me. I mean, I know the term’s not over but…” she trailed off.

“I often wondered why I took the position here at Hogwarts,” Professor Aphor said. “I had a very good position in research but when Headmistress McGonagall contacted me, something told me I had to accept. Now I know why…it’s purpose. I’m supposed to be here for moments like this.”

Daisy smiled, and nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the purpose and significance of the moment. They heard a rustle, and looking at the door, they found Jordan standing, slightly embarrassed to have broken the moment. Daisy beamed as she motioned him in.

“Professor, this is Jordan Johnson,” Daisy said, almost giddy. Jordan and Professor Aphor shook hands, as she sized him up.

“So you’re Jordan,” she said. “Why aren’t you in my Potions class, young man?” Jordan gave a shy laugh, ever so slightly melting Daisy’s heart as she watched him fidget under the professor’s intent stare.

“I wasn’t good at it, ma’am. But believe me, when you arrived, I was upset that I had,” he said.

“It’s alright,” she said, with a cheeky smirk. “You make up for it by adding a positive presence to Daisy’s life.”

He nodded, slightly relieved. “I hope so. She’s special.”

“Yes she is,” Professor Aphor agreed. Daisy exploded with warmth at watching them together. There was a familiarity—kinship that she dwelled in as they all stood together. Although she loved her family in London, there was something special about creating a second one at Hogwarts.

“Oh, Professor, I forgot,” Daisy said.

“Yes, dear?”

“Is it too late to sign up for the Potions Tournament?”

“No, absolutely not,” Professor Aphor said, proudly.

“Good because I’m in the mood to travel—it’s time to see a world beyond Europe,” she said, confidently.

Daisy was different—evolved. She felt steady, fortified, strengthened. Although it took her some time, she finally saw herself—the bright shining Potions star with the world at her fingertips. She was confident in her ability to manifest a bright future; she was sure purpose would follow her everywhere she went because that what happens when a Black girl does magic.

The End

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Chantell Monique was sorted into Gryffindor because the Sorting Hat felt that although she’d do well in Ravenclaw, Gryffindor would give her the courage she needed to embrace her creative gifts. Chantell Monique spends her time teaching English in the Midwest, along with contributing to Black Girl Nerds and Bitch Flicks. You can find her on Twitter @31PotterGirl.