#tom hiddleston spiral

[televinita]

I did it, the Marvel seal is broken, I have watched one (1) full episode of Loki.

I have some thoughts but they are tied up in the complication of me also needing to explain the 3 nights of hoovering up relevant movie clips on YouTube to admit that as of this week, I am secretly slightly more well informed than my previous post suggests, so I will just leave you with the enthralled realization I had as the credits rolled:

“It’s like if Severance were fun.”

[muddyorbsblr]

when the feeling sinks in

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few months after 'one look and they'll know'

Summary: Ragnarok wrapped up filming and now you're back in your apartment, waking up a little too alone and feeling a little too lonely. You thought that you were the only one until you heard a knock on your door.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: language; mentions of alcohol use if you squint [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: slight angst; Tomathy enters his comforting bf era; Reader's a-plus premature timing

The chipper intro of your morning alarm taunted you today as the curtains drew open, bathing your room in the light of the sunrise. You felt conflicted, laying there in your bed. On the one hand, you didn't want to get up because you knew what awaited you was nothing but a long tiresome day of unpacking and cleaning your apartment, making the place livable again after being away for the last few months on set for Ragnarok. A pile of mail to open and checks to deposit and bills to pay, along with a considerably thick layer of dust on nearly every surface of your home, were all waiting for you to get your ass up out of bed and make this place seem like a home again.

On the other hand, you didn't quite want to stay in your bed, either. It felt hauntingly empty, a loneliness creeping its way through you as the words of the song filling up the room dared to mock you.

There is no way I'm looking for a boyfriend, there is no way I'm looking for a scene

So much for your adamant intent of not wanting or needing to be with anyone but yourself. After the last few months of feeling like you were living in some modern day fairytale where the 'plain Jane' girl entered into a whirlwind romance with the actor that has literally played princes and kings, the clock finally struck midnight.

And rather than being thrust rather harshly into reality, you were shoved back into it. Face down on the ground as soon as your plane hit the tarmac.

Now you were back in the bed you left all those months ago, painfully aware of what you were missing ever since you'd stubbornly decided that you weren't cut out for relationships all those years ago. The last few months saw your steady descent into becoming spoiled with affection, waking in Tom's arms, those sinfully skilled hands roaming your body as the sunlight touched your skin.

A decadent round of lovemaking before you even left the bed when your schedules permitted it.

You felt every bit like a princess when you were with him. Or in his words, a goddess. Now you were back to being a pumpkin and you needed to pick yourself up from the path you were spiraling down headfirst before you found yourself fully admitting to sentiments you swore you'd never feel again.

He must leave a trail of heartbroken women in his wake if he treated all his flings like that, you thought to yourself ruefully, your body whining and aching in places you didn't think they could as you sat up in your bed. Before you could even think about it, you reached for your phone and typed down the sentiment in a note, keeping it in a hidden folder that you for the most part did your best to never revisit once you'd placed something in there.

"Oh how you've ruined me for everyone else but you, Thomas William Hiddleston," you spoke out loud as you typed down the note, locking it away in a folder deep in your drive. You hoped that with putting away the note, the sentiment would be buried deep down as well.

You put your hair up in a bun, pulling on an old shirt and some sweats from your college days and started cleaning away at the house, putting your clothes from the set straight into the wash. The faintest scent of his cologne hit you as you tossed it into the washer, taking you straight back to your memory of one of the last times you saw each other, at the wrap party.

You stood at a little table with Bryan and Denise, nursing a strawberry lemonade with a splash of vodka, wincing the slightest bit whenever the liquor made its presence felt in the taste. "I said a splash," you grumbled, placing the drink atop the tray of the wait staff collecting drinks was holding. "Damn thing's probably fifty percent vodka."

"Hey hey there you three are!" Taika greeted you, pulling you all into a little group hug. "Making this has been a dream and a half, and I owe you and your team so much thanks, lil mayhem. I'm definitely calling you again when we start on the next one."

"Ooh, so Marvel's definitely getting you again, then, boss?" Denise quipped, excitement and a bit of alcohol reddening her cheeks and making her the comical picture of cherubic inebriation.

He shook his head with a wide smile that left you confused. "No," he answered her. "But a bit of positive thinking never hurt anyone, am I right?"

The song blaring on the speakers changed to a familiar beat from Zedd, your teammates and Taika all dragging you out into the dance floor with them as the words began to hit you like a freight train.

You are the piece of me I wish I didn't need

Instead of dwelling on the lyrics, you forced yourself to move your body to the beat, finding yourself even having fun despite the glimpses you'd caught of various members of the crew along with some members of the press openly flirting with Tom. Despite your words to him this morning, the sight of him still visibly moving forward so easily felt like a stab to the heart.

"Something about all good things ending eventually," your memories taunted you. "Thank you for giving me a good thing."

The song faded out to give way to the acoustic notes of that James Arthur song that you'd been hearing all over Spotify, and just as you were about to take your leave from the dance floor, you were spun into a familiar pair of arms. Suddenly the very eyes that you'd been trying to block out from your mind were staring down at you, a soft smile gracing those heartbreakingly handsome features.

Tom wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you in a secure hold as he ran the backs of his fingers along your cheek with his free hand. "May I have this dance, goddess?" He broke out into a brilliant blinding grin when you mutely nodded your head, placing your hand on his shoulder as he began to sway you to the beat of the song.

"You should know right now that I can't dance like this to save my life," you told him, unable to fight back the smile that stretched across your face as you looked at him.

"Neither can I," he answered you with a chuckle, a tenderness in his eyes that had you struggling to stay upright had he not been holding you up. "Perhaps we could find our way together."

The seething piercing gazes of the women around you began to steer your thoughts down a rather self-conscious route, the bitter scrutiny in their eyes as they looked at your simple navy blue skater dress that you got on sale back home. Meanwhile their clothes screamed designer; even if some of them might have to be extra careful tonight so that they could successfully return them with tags intact, at the moment all that mattered to them was that they were dressed better than you…and yet somehow you were the one dancing with the most handsome man in the room.

Their faces screamed with the incredulous question "Why her? She's nothing special."

"You know I don't think it's expressly polite for you to ignore all the other pretty girls in this party," you mumbled, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach as his gaze never left yours. As if he didn't even care about anyone else watching you. "They're practically shaking from itching to dance with you."

"They'll be left itching and wanting, then," he shot back, both of your breaking into a fit of chuckles from the thought. "And as for beautiful women…" He tilted your chin up to hold your gaze. "There's only one that I care about. And she's already in my arms."

"Smooth talking way too handsome for his own fucking good living breathing Disney Prince," you grumbled as you started your first load of laundry. You dragged your feet to the supply closet to grab a bunch of cleaning rags and start at your living room, feeling a slight satisfaction watching as the dust made its way off the various surfaces and you could finally start to see your home once again.

When night began to fall and you had to start turning on the lights throughout your apartment just so you could see and make your way around without bumping into any corners, you decided to order in some dinner. Mostly because your stomach was beginning to sound like a baby gremlin.

You were just about to press 'Order Now' on your screen when your doorbell rang. "Okay if that's my delivery they better not be charging me extra for psychic services, I haven't even pressed the damn button yet," you muttered, immediately feeling like you swallowed your tongue the second you opened the door.

It wasn't Postmates.

"Tom?" The air left your lungs as you uttered his name, refusing to believe what your eyes were seeing. Meanwhile the very same man with the oceanic eyes and god-like face and body that you were trying to block out of your mind was standing not even two feet in front of you, wearing the same smile that he had on his face like he just ran five laps around the studio.

His grin got wider as he breathed your name, running his gaze down your face and what parts of your body weren't covered by the door.

"What--What're you uhh…doing here?"

He became a bit sheepish, running his hand through his short dark blond curls, tilting his head down before looking at you with the most endearing boyish expression. "I erm…If I'm being completely honest I'm here because I wanted to see you." His gaze darted to beyond your door before landing on your face again. "May I come in?"

You immediately snapped out of your stupor, feeling a complete fool for forgetting your manners. "Oh! Uhh of course." You opened your door wider to let him step through, suddenly feeling rather inadequate in your own home, feeling like your college sweats didn't measure up to his no doubt designer threads. "Sorry for the mess," you mumbled, waving your hand in the direction of the insides of your house, then at yourself. "I was cleaning up since I haven't been home in months and I wasn't expecting company--"

Any lame apology for the frumpy way you looked died in a muffled squeak at the back of your throat when Tom pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours. You could practically feel yourself melting more and more into his embrace with every brush of his lips.

"I've missed you, goddess," he sighed into your skin. "Last night I went to bed alone and it felt so…empty." He continued to press tender kisses to your cheek, working his way up to your forehead. "So I hopped on the next flight here. To you. I just needed to see you again."

You could feel a lump at your throat from processing his words, the backs of your eyes prickling with tears from realizing that he felt the same way you did when you woke up this morning. "I know the feeling," you managed to choke out as he kissed his way back to your lips. "I uhh…I was just about to order dinner. If you're willing to wait about…an hour? You could uhm…join me? I mean if you don't already have--"

He kissed you again, cutting you off from rambling yourself into an embarrassing grave. He probably had prettier girls ask him out way better than you just did. "You've been exerting yourself all day, you should rest. How about I go and pick something up for us, and you just focus on unwinding and relaxing from the day you had?"

A warmth spread all over your body as he held you, nuzzling your noses together as he ran his fingers up and down the length of your spine. It had you feeling so content that every part of you wanted nothing more than to ignore the panic settling deep inside you that you were feeling too comfortable around him, something you swore to never be around any man ever since you vowed to stick to one so far undisputed belief in your life.

The most blissful moments have the most catastrophic ends.

And at this moment you felt a little too much of that bliss.

"I'd like that," you breathed out, unable to help the way your mouth stretched into a way too contented grin as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, touching his nose to yours again before he headed for the door.

"I'll be half an hour tops," he said softly, looking over you again with that all too soft gaze. "Do what you need to wrap up for the day and unwind. I'll call you when I'm nearly home--I mean, when I'm nearly here."

You couldn't speak through the lump in your throat, your heart doing backflips in your chest from his slip of the tongue. All you could do was give him a smile, waving him off. You couldn't even tell if your sentiment for him to be careful out there was audible enough to reach him.

Home. You didn't hear him wrong. He called your apartment home.

By the time you finished with your shower, the timer you set for 27 minutes was still a few minutes out from ringing, giving you just enough time to slather on some lotion and spritz on some perfume, considering that the flight along with the amount of cleaning you just did today had you feeling far from fresh. Even after the hot shower.

And also the fact that the embodiment of the phrase 'sex on legs' was on his way back to you with dinner.

By the time his name was flashing on your screen, you were already at your kitchen counter, sorting out your mail from the last few months, already writing your todo list for the next morning involving a trip to the bank to cash in some checks that came in. You had the naughty little thought of writing "Tom" as an item on that list, but ultimately decided against it.

"I'm not optimistic, let alone presumptuous," you grumbled, putting the pen away when you heard the doorbell ring again. What greeted you on the other side was Tom beaming at you with hands full of bags, already putting your naughtier thoughts front and center and on hyperdrive with how his muscles bulged under his sweater from the weight of them.

"Wasn't sure what drink you'd prefer," he said in an exhale as he put the bags down, taking out bottles as he listed them off to you. "So I got us a bit of a selection. Some sparkling water…some soda…and just in case…" He let out a bit of a chuckle before pulling out the last bottle, getting a giggle out of you as well the second you eyed the bold serif letters and the star on the gold label. "Champagne."

You started moving towards the cupboard where you stored your glasses when he crossed the distance between you two, placing his hands on your waist to stop you. "What're you--"

"I figured with the day you've had, you wouldn't want to do a single second of clean up so…" He darted over to the other side of the counter again, pulling out a small pack of paper cups. "I got these."

Oh dear fuck, he actually thought of everything, you internally swooned, indulging yourself in basking in another blissful moment that he'd somehow known to give you after being here for less than an hour.

"Also…" He reached into a bag that made a clinking sound when he set it down, pulling out a small vase that held three deep red carnations. "I got these for you. I know you're not one for those big garish arrangements, so I thought you might like these. They might go well in the living area, by your sofa, or also here--"

"They're perfect," you blurted out, not even bothering to hold back the smile that took over your face. You're perfect. I love you.

He stilled in his movements, looking at you with wide, shining, puppy-like eyes. "What did you say?" he breathed out, slowly starting to make his way to you.

Shit did I say that out loud?! "What? I didn't--I didn't say--" You couldn't breathe. Did you actually say those words out loud? Your knees felt weak. You clung to the countertop to stand upright, bracing yourself for the usual spiel.

You're a whole smoke show and all but I hope you didn't get the wrong idea. This was just for fun, where did that come from, sweet thing? I like you and all that, but I wanna keep this a bit more open, you know? We're young and I don't think I wanna tie myself down to just you.

Knowing Tom, he'd probably say something that stung less in the moment but when you actually took a second to let it sink in…the devastation would be on another level. He'd break you. And all you could do was brace for impact.

Once he'd crossed the distance between you two, he framed your face in his hands, those wide puppy-like eyes now seeing the sheer panic in yours, his expression betraying your expectations. He wasn't looking at you with a condescension and smugness that screamed of someone stroking his ego getting a girl to blurt out that cursed sentiment at a ridiculously early point in the relationship.

And saying it first, too.

But instead he looked at you with an increasing concern as your vision began to blur from the tears in your eyes. He pressed kisses up and down the side of your face, guiding you through your breathing so that you'd stop hyperventilating like the air was too thin to breathe in properly. "Oh, sweet goddess," he sighed against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "You weren't quite ready to say those words yet, were you?"

"I didn't say anything," you whimpered lamely, making him lean away to get a look at you, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes.

"Alright, it's alright," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You're not quite ready to hear those words yet, either. That's alright." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace that deceptively felt too much like home, kissing the top of your head.

It took a good few moments before you could bring yourself to return his embrace, hearing a sound of relief from him when you finally did. "I'm sorry it's just--I'm not--"

"Shhh shhh, there's no need for apologies," he whispered into your hair. "I just want you to know something." He tucked his hand under your chin, tilting your head and kissing you again before continuing. "I want you to know how that I am already beyond happy that you share your time and your body with me, and I'll never take that for granted. And if the day ever comes that you wish to give me your heart, I want you to know that it will be safe with me. Because those words that you didn't say earlier? I feel the same way."

The violent fluttering in your stomach was back. "Tom, I--"

"When you're ready, and only when you're ready, I'll be here. I'll always be here." He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his nose across yours. "We don't have to talk about it."

You eyed him with incredulity. How could you both just go on pretending that you didn't just stupidly blurt out those words? How could he be okay with that?

"Right now I am more than happy to simply spend the night having a lovely dinner with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" you repeated, breathless. After the level of batshit that was the last few minutes, he wanted to keep this going?

"Only if you wish to be," he said in a rush, bewildering you when you saw a similar type of panic enter his eyes. "I'd--I'd be fine if you don't want to put a label yet I just…" He sighed, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before tightening his arms around you. "I didn't want what we started to end just because we stopped working together."

"I…" Your words caught in your throat, finding it near impossible to even form anything coherent while he continued to press kisses to your cheek and temple. "I haven't been anyone's girlfriend in so long," you said in a rush. "And the last time, it--it burned me."

That last time scarred you so badly you began to see the appeal of the 'eternal bachelorette' lifestyle. Because much as it was so tempting to get lost in the feeling of being pursued and courted, you knew the downfall when eventually they would grow complacent. When they started seeing you as something 'routine'.

When they want the thrill of the chase again, mixed in with the thrill of betrayal.

You barely had anything left in you to even attempt going into that adventure one more time. And yet you already knew that you were going to. For him.

Because you loved him. You even said it yourself with your a-plus timing that was so premature that teenage boys would be embarrassed for you.

"The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you," he whispered, his breath warming your face as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "All I want at this moment is to know that tomorrow morning I wake up holding you again."

You could hear how every single voice that gave you a reason to not take another chance on him fade away into a dull murmur in the back of your head. His eyes shone with all the barely-there restraint, as if he had more words ready. As if he was trying to stop himself from pleading his case to you.

One last shot, you could hear the tired voice in you give in. If this goes down the drain, I don't ever wanna try again. I won't have enough heart to break if he ever decides he's done with me.

"Girlfriend," you tested the word, his breath hitching when he heard you say it. "I kinda like the sound of that."

Getting used to a new timezone wasn't quite something that got easier with time, which was how Tom ended up waking earlier than intended, warm contentment washing over him once he felt you in his arms. He shuffled closer to you, stifling any sound that might come out of him when you met him halfway, your naked body pressing against his own and letting out a little contented sigh when skin met skin.

He still couldn't quite believe what happened last night, remembering the way his heart jumped in his chest when he heard the whispered words from you. It wasn't his imagination or his daydreams getting the better of him, you said them. I love you. And he wanted nothing more than anything to scoop you up into his arms and say the words back.

But the panic in your eyes once you realized what you'd said tore at him and stopped him from doing just about anything. There was a hurt that painted your face last night as if you were bracing for impact. Like you were just preparing yourself for incoming pain. And the realization that you weren't ready to say the words or maybe even hear them had him pushing the words back down his throat with every ounce of strength he had.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you. The second to last was to scare you off.

Until that day came he would cling to the little things, find ways to show you his affections if hearing them wasn't quite yet an option. For now he was more than happy knowing that your relationship was far from over; in fact, it was safe to say that it was just beginning.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, kissing a trail up to your ear and smiling against your skin at the little whimpers and moans that escaped you with every kiss. "Good morning, goddess," he whispered, pressing a kiss below your ear when you stirred in his arms.

"Hmmph…mooring," you slurred, stirring in his arms, your voice still rather thick with sleep.

"I'm going to go out and see what I can get us for breakfast. Any special orders? Cravings?"

It took a few seconds before he could make complete sense of what you murmured, your words jumbled together. "French toast and bacon, please."

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, his heart skipping a beat when he felt your cheek rise in a smile against his lips. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll wake you when I'm home." There it was again. That slip of the tongue that had him grinning ear to ear whenever he said it.

Home. It wasn't a hotel room in a hotel room in Sydney. Or Atlanta. It wasn't his house back in London. Or his mum's.

It wasn't even here, in an apartment in Los Angeles.

It was you.

He could be camping out in the depths of the woods folding himself into a tent, but if he was sharing that tent with you, then he was home.

And if his realization already had his heart behaving erratically, your next words had it going on overdrive. "Okay, be careful. I love you."

He waved a hand in front of your face. No reaction. Your guards weren't fully up because you were barely even half-awake. He decided to go for it, hoping that somehow even through your sleep-laden mind, his message would reach you.

"I love you, too."

A/N: In hindsight, if I knew that this was gonna turn into a whole series/collection, I would've named it better 😂 Anyways, welcome to the first 'chapter' in the 'said it first' arc! We've seen these two blorbos in their happy in love era with the Soccer Aid Chronicles as well as their Kinktober shot, but we haven't ever really seen anything from them that resembled angst…Well that's because that era went down early on in their relationship. Like in the first few months early on, and it really stems from Reader and her baggage making it a whole ass journey to say "I love you" without wanting to curl up in a hole she buried for herself.

This arc will have 5 entries…at least that's what my notes said, but let's see where my writer brain takes us 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Saying Goodbye

Tom Hiddleston x wife!reader oneshot

Your husband just finished filming season 2 of Loki, thus concluding his long journey as the God of Mischief, but as a stunt double for The Marvels, you’re stuck doing a reshoot on the night of the wrap party when all you want to do is be there for him.

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: After watching the Loki finale, as well as Tom’s interview on Jimmy Fallon, I guess I wrote this to process my own grief (and be a little self indulgent)…

When you walked into the wrap party, you spotted your husband immediately, talking to Ke Huy Quan across the room by the bar. Tom’s dyed black curls were slightly disheveled and he was gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly very passionate about whatever the topic of conversation was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him, until you were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar voice.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Owen Wilson greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

“And just in time, evidently,” you added as you pulled out of the hug. “Is he doing any better?”

Owen shook his head and sighed. “He’s not doing any worse, I can say that much.”

The two of you walked over to Tom and Ke, and you slid your arm around Tom’s slender waist. “Sorry to interrupt,” you told them both.

Tom’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Darling! You made it!” he said excitedly, standing up from his seat at the bar and quickly giving you a hug and kiss before addressing the entire room. “Y/n Hiddleston, everybody!” he shouted, pointing at you as if you were the big surprise guest for the night. Everyone played along and cheered while you waved bashfully at them all before turning back to Tom.

“How are you doing, my love?” you asked him, concerned, as you cupped his face in your hand.

“I’m wonderful,” he assured you. “Why?”

You glanced at Owen apprehensively. “Owen said you were sort of… spiraling.”

“What?” Tom looked at Owen confused. “You said I was spiraling?”

“You’ve been spiraling a little,” Owen said quietly from behind you. You and Ke proceeded to watch the two men bicker back and forth.

“I think I’d know if I was spiraling.”

“I mean, it’s a subtle spiral, but a spiral all the same.”

“Is there even such a thing as a subtle spiral?

“So you’re admitting that it’s not subtle. Good!”

“No, I’m saying there was no spiral to begin with.”

“Oh my god! If either of you say the word spiral one more time, I’m going to start spiraling,” you shouted abruptly.

“I promise you, darling, I’m fine. Really.” Tom attempted to reassure you as he pulled you close to him. You looked over your shoulder at Owen briefly who held up his hands in defeat.

“Alright,” you conceded, before turning to Ke. “I’m so sorry, Ke! I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Ke said cheerfully. “Tom was just telling me about how I shouldn’t get too attached to anything because everything ends eventually.” You and Owen both gave Tom a look.

Tom chuckled nervously and then clapped his hands together. “Shots anyone?” he asked, as he turned to the bartender. “Another round of Loki shots, please! And add one more for my beautiful wife!”

“No need,” Owen called after the bartender. “She can just have mine!”

“Oh no, I’m good. I’m driving,” you chimed in, shooting a glare at Owen.

“That’s fine. I’ll just have both of theirs,” Tom said nonchalantly.

You quickly stepped between Tom and the bar. “Hey, maybe we should forget the shots and have a little fun of our own at home.” You gave him a playful wink, hoping to distract him.

“But you just got here,” he protested. “Please, let’s stay for a while and celebrate the end!”

The way he said ‘celebrate the end’ sounded excited and happy, but you could tell it was forced. Still, it was his night tonight (though he would never accept it if you told him that), and you didn’t want to be the one to spoil it, so you obliged.

You, Tom, Owen, and the rest of the ‘Loki’ cast and crew spent the next couple of hours laughing, dancing, and sharing stories (most of which ended up being about Tom), and it seemed like maybe Tom was handling things better than you had originally thought. There was a moment when he reprised his rendition of ‘Very Full’ from the first season of the show, and you thought for a moment, during the slower part of the song, that he was finally letting his feelings to the surface, but as the song picked up again, so did his demeanor. It wasn’t until people started to say their goodbyes for the night, that you really began to see his happy exterior fade.

“I think it’s time to call it, boss,” Owen said to Tom as the last few cast members departed, leaving only the three of you along with a couple of closing staff in the venue rented out for the night’s festivities.

“I suppose so,” Tom agreed with a sad smile.

“We’re still on for lunch before your flight leaves tomorrow, right?” you asked Owen as he hugged you and Tom goodbye.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied. And with that he left.

You then turned to your husband and held out your hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you spent the car ride reliving the fun of the party, and were laughing as you walked in the front door of the house. As you set your purse down on the buffet in the foyer, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled into your neck.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

You placed your hands over his and swayed back and forth. “Of course, baby. But I want to ask you one more time…” You turned around to face him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other gently cupped his face. “Are you alright? Because it’s perfectly okay to not be okay right now. You just closed a huge chapter of your life and no one expects you to just take it on the chin.”

As you said this, Tom’s eyes slowly welled up with tears as he finally let go of the mask he’d so tirelessly upheld all night. “I’ve said goodbye to Loki before, and I thought I could do it again” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But it’s only that much harder now. He changed my life. He’s become such a deeply rooted part of me over the last 13 years. How am I expected to just move on from that?”

A tear fell down his cheek and you brushed it away with your thumb. “No one expects you to, sweetheart,” you replied in a soft, comforting tone. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, causing more tears to fall as he hugged you tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You held him there for a moment, stroking his hair while he quietly cried.

“But, Tom,” you continued, taking his face in both hands, lifting his head, and looking deep in his eyes. “Even if Loki’s on-screen journey is over, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. You said it yourself that he’s a part of you. Even if Kevin Feige never calls you up again— which, let’s be honest, is never out of the question at this point—” He let out a small chuckle. “As long as you’re around, so is he, and that’s because you put your heart and soul into that character, much like everything else that you do. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

Tom smiled at you through his tears before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. When your lips finally parted he leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “Thank you, love,” he whispered.

“No, thank you Tom,” you replied, tears forming in your own eyes now. “Thank you for giving us Loki.”

…

One year later:

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

THE BEST OF DANIEL BRÜHL

It’s dumb, honestly.

You get this seemingly brilliant idea of turning to foreign films so you’re forced to read subtitles and focus—a problem you’ve been noticing of late—but in doing so, you end up with a more destructive distraction.

“Who’s that guy, again? The one in all those international productions?” That’s how I found myself on my Daniel Brühl marathon-turned-obsession.

It was his role as the cute Nazi in Inglorious Basterds that first put him on my radar. Over the years, I would see him in The Fifth Estate, Burnt, Woman in Gold, The Zookeeper’s Wife, and The King’s Man. Midway through All Quiet on the Western Front, I was like, “All this needs is that German actor…” and I had to chuckle when he later appeared on screen. I also checked out the first season of The Alienist because I was intrigued by what he and Dakota Fanning as leads would do with such a spooky-looking show.

Adorable as he was in his breakout role in Good Bye, Lenin!, it was his performance in the critically-acclaimed Rush that caused me to spiral. Similar to when Benedict Cumberbatch took on the modern version of Sherlock, it was like seeing Brühl with new eyes. His playful take on Helmut Zemo in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier was the final nail in the coffin. I don’t imagine it’s all too different from what Tom Hiddleston did to fans of Marvel as Loki.

I’m actually at the tail-end of this obsession now that I’ve seen everything I can get a hold of—around 39 films, two TV shows, a documentary, a music video, countless interviews, a bunch of ads, and a handful of fan cuts—but he has a lot of works worth recommending so I thought I would share them on here. This will mostly be a subjective list with priority on projects I found most interesting which showcase his range best. Like, I enjoyed The Bourne Ultimatum but he was on screen for a total of 2 minutes so I wouldn’t include that here.

RUSH (2013) This biographical sports film written by Peter Morgan—the man behind The Crown—centers on the rivalry between Formula One drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda in the 70s. Not a fan of F1 or sports in general. I have nothing against either, just zero interest. But this character-driven film, much like Ford vs Ferrari, had me at the edge of my seat the entire ride. And it surprisingly has one of the best meet-cutes—and accidental wingmen—I’ve seen yet.

Brühl delivers an Oscar-worthy performance in this role. For someone who needed a lot of convincing he could do the character justice, he truly went above and beyond. For one, he befriended and studied Lauda, the iconic F1 figure he was portraying. No easy feat considering Lauda being, well… Lauda. In interviews, Brühl recounts the story of the memorable invite he got from Lauda to meet in Vienna. This would be their first meeting and Lauda told Brühl outright that he should only bring hand luggage so he can piss off if they don’t like each other.

He would end up staying a few days and buying additional clothes.

He also spent a month in Vienna to nail the accent, making sure to capture the arrogance and irony innate to it. And although he got driver training for the role, he also considered the tiniest details like which went on first: helmet or gloves? There was also the tricky business of looking graceful entering a tiny F1 car—a bigger challenge for Chris Hemsworth who plays Hunt—but an obstacle all the same.

All the hard work paid off. It was well-received by audiences, critics, and the F1 world. The first time Lauda saw the film he went, “Holy shit, that’s really me”. Lauda’s friends thought he did voiceover work for it. Director Ron Howard was so pleased with Brühl’s performance that he went out of his way to show an unfinished cut of the movie to the producers of The Fifth Estate (2013). This gracious act would land Brühl the co-lead role opposite Benedict Cumberbatch.

GOOD BYE, LENIN! (2003) Can't tell if it's just because the two films have the same composer and were created around the same time, but this tragicomedy set in East Germany reminded me so much of my beloved Amélie. This is definitely more dramatic and political but it has that same mix of whimsy, heart, and charm. With its budget, it was meant to be an indie film, but the story of a son who would recreate a faux-socialist world to keep his mother alive captured the heartstrings of audiences, not just in Germany but also worldwide. Brühl plays the son and his success with this film was a double-edged sword: although it would open doors for him internationally, he would also be typecast as the “nice guy” in his home country.

INGLORIOUS BASTERDS (2009) This has one of the best, most intense opening sequences in all of cinema… and one of the greatest villains. In this wild alternate universe from Quentin Tarantino, he rewrites the ending of World War II. It’s the right balance of dark, hilarious, and entertaining—my favorite from the auteur’s works. Here Brühl plays a cute and charming Nazi, which is very confusing to the senses.

Aside from Brühl, it was also my first introduction to Christoph Waltz, Michael Fassbender, and Melanie Laurent—all fantastic European actors who’ve crossed over to Hollywood after the success of this movie. “Crossing over” seems ubiquitous now but, at that time, giving most of the lead roles to then relatively unknown actors must have been a risk. But for this, it was necessary. Language plays a huge part in this trilingual film and casting native speakers grounded it in authenticity. Tarantino originally had Leonardo di Caprio in mind to play Hans Landa. Whether he meant for him to learn German or to speak English with a German accent, who knows. Either way, it’s safe to say that would have been a different film.

THE EDUKATORS / DIE FETTEN JAHRE SIND VORBEI (2004) This anti-capitalist film, which has become a cult classic, captures the spirit, idealism, recklessness, and angst of young revolutionaries who just want a better world. Where one stands on the measures taken, or even their sentiment, can be considered a litmus test. With or without reference to this quote from the movie—“Under 30 and not liberal, no heart. Over 30 and still liberal, no brain.”—is up to the viewer.

There needs to be a suspension of disbelief for the series of events that takes place but the setting is necessary for the clash of worlds to happen. It’s not a perfect movie but the issues they debate about in length… they’re still discussions we’re having nearly 20 years later.

p.s. this has my favorite behind-the-scenes of all of Brühl’s projects. Though he hasn’t lost his sense of humor, he seems to have become more reserved as he got older. HERE, at this period in his life, he’s a total goofball bordering on loose cannon.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) Though I’ve enjoyed quite a few MCU movies, I’m not invested in the universe at all, so watching this wasn’t a priority. In fact, I was ready to settle on YouTube compilations made by devoted fans of all the scenes Brühl was in. Upon seeing clips, however, I got intrigued by his character so I still ended up watching the miniseries and also Captain America: Civil War (2016).

Both were better than I expected. Civil War is more serious, while TFATWS is more playful, but both face relevant issues along with formidable foes. Brühl’s villain in Helmut Zemo is fascinating because he tears the mighty Avengers apart with mere patience, fury, and intelligence… and his motivations are understandable. He lets his character loose in TFATWS—at one point, on the dance floor—and it’s magnificent. His mission is still the same, but this time he does it with a lot of charm, humor, and fabulous Sokovian style. A Turkish delight, personified.

ME AND KAMINSKI / ICH UND KAMINSKI (2015) Brühl’s Sebastian Zöllner is a repulsive and sleazy journalist who has greasy hair and wears too much cologne but I can’t get enough of his chaotic energy. His magnum opus is hitched on a legendary artist dying and his fantasy is to turn the orphaned daughter into a sugar mommy. It’s all kinds of messed up but he plays the hell out of the smarmy dirtbag so it’s a lot of fun. This is Brühl’s second collaboration with Wolfgang Becker, who directed Good Bye, Lenin! Daniel Kehlmann, the writer whose eponymous book this film was based on, would later write Brühl’s directorial debut, Nebenan.

NO REGRETS / NICHTS BEUREUEN (2001) This is reminiscent of the slightly problematic but highly enjoyable teen comedies and coming-of-age films of the 90s. It’s like an edgier Can’t Hardly Wait: boy goes through cringe-worthy measures to get the girl he’s long been pining for, his two closest pals have nothing but dumb advice to offer, yet he still ends up on the path to self-discovery. It’s awkward, chaotic, frustrating, and beautiful—but such is adolescence.

Brühl and his co-star Jessica Schwarz fall in love on the set of this film. And although they would break up years later, the tenderness between their scenes together is palpable and there’s something rather bittersweet about seeing that captured in perpetuity.

For a more straightforward rom-com, he has Lila, Lila (2009). It’s about a guy who passes off a manuscript as his own to impress a girl and the hilarity that follows. It’s on YouTube for those who need a fun and light watch.

THE ALIENIST (2018 – 2020) Based on the novel of the same name, this moody psychological thriller set in late 19th century New York follows a psychiatrist—then called an Alienist—who investigates a series of grisly murders with methods still considered new and controversial at that time, such as psychology and fingerprinting. He gets by with a little help from his friends, John Moore, an illustrator for the New York Times, and Sara Howard, a society woman who works in the NYPD.

In the lead role of Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, Brühl plays the dark, complex, and mysterious Alienist whose study of mental pathologies and deviant behaviors reveals much of himself and his past.

LESSONS OF A DREAM / DER GANZ GROßE TRAUM (2011) This film is loosely based on Konrad Koch, an educator and pioneer who brought football to Germany in the late 19th century. In the movie, the sport is used as a means to pique students’ interest in the English language and culture—both considered barbaric by the Germans at that time. A heartwarming tale of a teacher who overcomes insurmountable odds and inspires students along the way, it’s the German equivalent of Dead Poet’s Society.

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (2022) This story, the third adaptation of the 1929 novel, “Im Westen nichts Neues”, conveys the futility of war like no other. There aren't as many films on World War I as there are on World War II, fewer ones that tell it from a German perspective, so this is doubly unique in that regard. Powerful watch but 10/10 not like to relive it again. Apart from producing it with his company, Amusement Park, Brühl plays Matthias Erzberger, the German State Secretary who pushes for armistice talks with the Allied forces.

An ideal companion watch to this would be Joyeux Noël / Merry Christmas (2005), another WWI movie Brühl stars in, which depicts the unbelievable Christmas truce between French, German, and Scottish soldiers in 1914. His linguistic ability shines here as he shifts between German, French, and English effortlessly. (Half German, half Spanish, Brühl speaks a total of five languages: those three plus Spanish and Catalan.)

The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017) and Alone in Berlin (2016) also recognize the bravery of defiance at the height of tyrannical regimes. Although between the two, I would skip the latter.

JOHN RABE (2009) This biographical film set in China tells the incredible true story of a German businessman who uses his Nazi Party membership to create an International Safety Zone in Nanking. This was in the late 1930s, during the Rape of Nanjing. In this six-week carnage by the Imperial Japanese Army—which includes sexual assault, mutilations, and killing contests—upwards of 200,000 Chinese are brutally murdered. The protective zone manages to save around the same number of civilians.

Brühl doesn’t play the titular Rabe, but his character, Dr. Georg Rosen, is one of few Westerners who decides to remain and protect Nanking even as conflict escalates. Dr. Rosen was a German Diplomat instrumental in the creation of the safety zone.

p.s. with all these heroic roles in his catalog, I’m convinced Brühl would be a frontrunner to play President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, should a movie be made about him and Ukraine’s conflict with Russia. You heard it here first.

NEXT DOOR / NEBENAN (2021) This is Brühl’s directorial debut. Here he plays a darker, fictionalized version of himself. Definitely not for everyone but quite enjoyable if you’re familiar with his major works and public persona, appreciate the ingenuity of one-location movies, and delight in British-style meta humor.

Pre-requisite viewing for maximum enjoyment: Good Bye, Lenin!, Captain America: Civil War, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter seventy // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 5k warnings for this chapter: light fingering?

banners by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

Chapter Seventy:

January brings in a bitter cold front.

I show Thomus the Muggle magic of indoor heating known as the radiator. The sturdy metal contraptions try their best, but I still find myself layering my clothes and keeping the fire roaring in the living room anyway. My ass has been parked on the couch with the softest blankets in the house piled on top of me.

Thomus usually joins me in the evenings, and we'll either read together or put a movie on. During the day Thomus is in the office, typing away or dulling his quills for The Daily Prophet.

I don't really go out of my way to read any editions he leaves laying around. The few I flipped through had fun, exciting headlines like ZÜRICH UNDER SIEGE! and EXECUTIONS IN ZÜRICH: DARK LORD WELCOMES SWITZERLAND TO GREAT ORDER! Several articles spewed hateful rhetoric about Muggleborns and there was even an ad featuring Muggleborn repellent.

And so… yeah, I don't really need to consume so much negativity on a daily basis. It honestly would send me spiraling with that being my only access to the outside world.

I'm content staying in my own little delusion. Where I'm still in the dark about the details of the war raging around us, but I'm okay with that. The less I know, the less I'll stress. I can watch my silly little movies, make a never ending pot of leek and potato soup, and spend time with Thomus, who's the perfect distraction.

One morning during breakfast with Thomus, I realize it already has to be late January. Did he ever have that meeting with Voldemort?

I glance at him in time to see him scoop up the last bite of his oatmeal. I guess I could just ask him, right?

"Did you ever… have that meeting?" I ask, prompting his eyes to find mine. There are times where he's left the cottage, but it was usually to 'follow a lead', or so I was told. "With… "

He tilts his head, giving me a patient look.

"Um, the one that Yaxley mentioned the… Dark Lord would summon you for?" I finally get out. "From the New Years party."

"Right," he says, like he's expected this question somehow, and continues casually, "and you want to know what was said about you."

My face heats and my jaw drops, but I recover the reaction by immediately saying, "Yes." Then give him a sheepish smile. "Wouldn't you?"

He smiles in return, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

I start with a question not totally unrelated to the meeting, but something I've been dying to ask. "Why are there so many articles written about me?"

Thomus raises his eyebrows and smirks. "I was wondering when you were going to ask about them," he says, then crosses his arms and shifts down in his seat. "And to answer your question, it's not exactly a secret that you, an American Muggleborn back to back Wandless Magic Tournament Champion, are the property of a Death Eater."

I roll my eyes. "That's quite the mouthful, isn't it?"

He narrows his own. "Are you trying to under value yourself?"

"No," I scoff, shrugging. "I'm just saying the title doesn't really matter."

"Of course your achievements matter -"

"Not really."

His eyebrows raise again, seeming in utter disbelief. "Darling, your achievements are utterly remarkable for a mudblood. You should be proud."

For a few long moments, there's only silence that follows his statement as I let the hurt of his words sink into my chest.

"My achievements don't matter when I'm being held prisoner for the crime of my blood," I say quietly. "If you take my 'remarkable' abilities out of the recipe, what's left? My worth is no greater or less than the other… mudbloods."

His eyebrows and mouth are pinched inward as he stares at me before slowly nodding. "I shouldn't have called you that and I apologize. I wasn't thinking."

I'm taken aback by his quick apology and I just nod. Somehow it feels reassuring.

"With or without magic," he says quietly. "You're still dangerous."

I know he doesn't mean it as a compliment, but I decide to treat it like one. Straightening my back and squaring my shoulders, I give him a false bravado smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

He gives a wry chuckle, glancing away and bouncing his leg.

"So what was it?" I press. "Either you bought me because you knew who I am and what I can do, or because you…" I trail off. My thought process had been confident, now I'm not so sure.

But he's looking at me, waiting for the rest. My eyes go to the table, how my fork sits on my plate.

"… just because you wanted to own me, and I don't think that makes very much sense." I peek at him to see he's looking out the frosted window.

"I haven't lied to you," he says pensively. "Yes, I knew who you were when I bought you, but it had little to do with my motivation."

He's definitely holding something back, especially because he's given me that answer before.

"And these articles about me warranted a summons from the Dark Lord?" I prod. "Why now? It's not like he didn't know I could do wandless magic. He saw it in my own head."

"I'm not sure he knew to what extent," he says slowly. "He doesn't take seriously Muggleborn achievements. But a few months ago someone leaked the status of your citizenship to the wizard news outlets in the states."

My expression slips to confusion. "But what about the one Skeeter wrote in May? Yeah, it's vague, but wouldn't that have told people where I was months ago? It's old news."

"Around here, yes, but remember in the states, The Daily Prophet isn't as popular," he says, and then mutters, "Especially now."

"Well, that's your own fault, isn't it?" I say. "You've even admitted to me it's straight up propaganda."

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and gives me a look that says he's well aware.

"Can you tell me a bit more about Skeeter's one?" I ask.

Thomus sits up, putting his crossed arms on the edge of the table. "Actually, I'd like you to tell me a bit more about it."

My eyebrows rise. "Why? I didn't write it."

"Neither did I."

"But you were quoted in it."

He rolls his eyes. "I gave her what she wanted to hear and, shockingly, she twisted my words." He tilts his head, looking me dead in the eyes now. "And what's your excuse?"

"For what?"

"Are you guilty of the crimes she accuses you of?" he asks.

I press my lips together, smiling as I shrug. "I want a lawyer."

He barks out a laugh. "What?"

"I will not perjure myself. I've seen how your courts work, I'd probably be sentenced to death just because of my blood status." I'm making light of it now, but when the mudblood hunt was sweeping through the Ministry, I was terrified.

He doesn't seem to find that as funny as I do. "Who did you impersonate?" he asks seriously, but there's an eagerness to his tone. Which to me says he's been wanting to ask this for a while.

I still smile at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

His eyes narrow. "Rita?" he says, incredulous.

I nod. "Yup."

"Why did you need to get into the Ministry that badly?" he asks.

"Had my reasons," I shrug.

He lets out a long frustrated breath as he sits back, dropping his arms. "I'm assuming one of those reasons has to do with why you were hiding out with Potter?"

I take a deep, slow breath, nervous to tell the simple truth. "Yes."

"… and with how Samantha died," he states. "The plaque."

I feel my pulse jumping wildly in my throat as I reply with the same answer. "Yes."

None of this information is really new, unless he's only now putting all the pieces together. But we're getting side-tracked.

"So Voldemort's concerned about me after all?" I press after he'd gone pensive again.

He tsks, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "That's not how this works."

"Oh, come on," I whine, tilting my head and puckering my brows. "Are you really not gonna tell me what you talked about?" I might've even subconsciously pouted my lower lip.

From how he's gazing at me, for a moment I think he's finally going to open up… until he smirks.

"Do you really think batting your lashes and looking adorable will work?" he asks, thankfully amused and not insulted.

I press my lips together and sigh heavily through my nose, trying to smother my embarrassment. "Sorry," I sigh. "I think just being on his radar makes me really nervous."

"You don't have to be," he says, measuring his words for emphasis.

I give him a look. "Let me guess, it's because you've gone to 'great personal lengths' to ensure I'm not a threat to him?"

Thomus doesn't answer me immediately, slowly crossing his arms over his chest again without looking away. "What is it about that phrase that troubles you? Have I not gone to great lengths to protect you? To ensure your safety and well-being?"

My eyebrows push together slightly, meeting his guarded eyes. "But that's not what you said though. Ensuring that I'm not a threat doesn't mean keeping me safe. It doesn't mean protection."

"Is there something specific you're trying to get me to admit?" he asks hesitantly. I desperately hope it's because I've been vague and not because I keep pushing for answers he doesn't want to give.

I pinch my wrist in my lap, trying to dampen the anxiety painfully spreading through my chest. A deep breath kicks in my occlumency and I can bring forth rational thoughts, even if they stumble out of my mouth instead of gracefully stepping down.

"I - I guess I just want to know if you've been bullshitting me this entire time." Oh god, my voice cracked already. I just take another deep breath and keep going, looking out the window. Well, the cracks in the paint on the wooden frame. "With how you make me um… feel, and telling me that I'm important to you - and, and making me believe that I'd still be worth something to you if I wasn't…" I pause, taking a deep breath in through my nose. "If I wasn't a threat that needed to be dealt with." Another, shakier breath and my voice comes out as a whisper. "Is this real? Do you really care about me?"

I finally bring my eyes back to him, so terrified of his reaction. So afraid to be disappointed. To be utterly heartbroken.

I'm not quite sure how to read the face he's making. His eyes are so serious, not in a hard, scary way, but heavy and emotional. His mouth is soft, the right corner tugging upward. My heart pounds in my chest as hope springs forth, so desperate for good news.

"I think I got you for a steal," he admits softly, continuing to gaze at me. "If I cared about you then the way I do now… I would've paid anything, anything…You're worth more than gold to me."

The sincerity in his voice and his face and the tenderness in his eyes makes my lower lip tremble. I can't bare to look away from him even as my vision gets blurry from my tears. His thumb comes up to brush away an escaped tear and I grab his hand and hold it between mine.

I sniffle and clear my throat, but still whisper. "Thank you for defending me at the meeting on New Years. It meant a lot, especially because you didn't know I was there."

He leans forward, twisting in his chair to get as close to me as possible. Thighs and knees pressing together, his other hand slides around my tummy.

"I'm sorry I didn't start doing it sooner," he says. "Especially when I knew you were there."

I shrug a little and give him a small smile. "I understand it's complicated."

"But it's real," he murmurs. "I can't lie about that anymore."

"Well good. I don't want to lie to you either." I say this, knowing full well I'm going to have to lie to him in the near future. I keep a teasing smile on my face even as I feel my heart breaking while thinking about the inevitable doom. At least I'm not lying about this. "Because it's real for me too."

His head tilts and his smile mirrors my own. He pulls my hands toward him to press his lips to the back of them, meeting my eyes.

I go for a shot at levity, needing to forget that we won't get a happy ending. "Since we're being honest," I say, sitting back and looking him up and down. "Wanna fuck?"

He starts laughing and coughing all the while his face turns a super adorable pink.

"Oh, I'll do more than fuck you," he swears hotly.

I pull my hands out of his and stand, failing to keep the grin off my face. "Promises, promises," I tease.

His hands are on me in an instant, one arm securing me by the fupa as his other smacks down hard on my ass cheek. I cry out in surprise at the sting and then moan as that hand slips down to rub over my pussy between my thighs.

The way his lips are all over me, it's a miracle we make it to the bedroom before we're naked.

~*~

I don't get much sleep that night. Our confessions over breakfast left us insatiable in a way I hadn't experienced before. Even now, lying in bed wrapped in his arms, I'm unwilling to peel myself away. Despite getting several rounds of orgasms and enough cum fucked into me today that I wouldn't be surprised if my pH balance is off, I'm not tired of it, of him. It feels like a dream.

We still have the lamp on, casting it's muted yellow glow across his room. He's lying on his back, though his hips twist toward me, our legs intertwined. His arm is my pillow and I have the perfect view of his profile from where I'm tucked into his side.

He's just so handsome and how could someone like him ever feel something real for someone like me? It's superficial, yeah, I know. But he's meant to be with some blond bombshell like Diana, not… me. I can't even imagine what we look like side by side.

I don't know where we're supposed to go from here. How can I have the man of my dreams in a living nightmare? I want to believe he's been slowly changing. I want to believe he's not secretly worse than I fear.

Would he run away with me if I asked? We'd probably have to seek asylum with M.A.C.U.S.A…. Maybe pretend to be No-Majes for a while. Oh god, he'd have to meet my parents.

All terrible ideas, but it means we'd be out of danger, and we'd be together. It means we'd choose each other.

But… I really just can't see that happening. I can't see beyond this. His name is tattooed on my arm as a mark of ownership and I still refuse to ask for freedom.

Yes, he's confessed feelings, but are they strong enough to completely abandon all of this? Turn his back on his family? And what about… what about Bellatrix? He's a man with conviction. Of course those ties of loyalty would be impossible to sever.

Time to overthink and re-evaluate everything. Could I really just… go home? Have I really tried hard enough? Sacrificed enough? I've only destroyed one of his Horcruxes and he's still kicking and Sam is still dead. And fuck… he's only getting stronger. Kyle's plan feels weak in the eyes of the bigger picture. I've already tried so hard and yet the nightmare isn't even close to being over.

I don't know what makes me sadder. Not being able to be with him, or knowing he wouldn't chose me.

The pain of that knowledge consumes my chest until it hurts to breathe. It hurts to think that I was never an option in the first place just because of my blood and I ache for what could be.

As I gaze at his face, trying to commit it to memory, I come to the grim conclusion I have to know what was said between Voldemort and Thomus. If I'm going to come face to face with him one day without anyone there on my side, I need to be ready.

The easiest way I figure to do that is to just go into Thomus' memories. Since he's already asleep and obviously unprepared, I can get in pretty easily.

Before I completely submerge myself in his head, it dawns on me that I'm just another person who's taking advantage of his trust. The shame and regret burns under my skin and it's suddenly too painful to look at his face. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold him tighter to me, my fingers nearly digging into his ribs.

He deserves so much better than me. Someone he won't be bullied for liking, and more importantly, someone who won't betray his trust for their own selfish needs.

Upon swearing no malicious intent, I cross the threshold of his Occlumency walls. He's currently dreaming, which is good because then he's not paying attention when I slip to his memories, searching until Voldemort's face becomes center focus.

We're in what looks like an office in a castle, my best guess would be Hogwarts. The portraits and grandeur signal it could be the headmaster's, though I guess in this case, it's Voldemort's. Since Thomus' consciousness isn't present at the moment, I slow the memory down a bit, and step outside of Thomus' perspective. Standing next to him, I see his beard is about the length it was two weeks ago.

In the focal point of the room, Voldemort sits on a raised dais in a massive chair behind a massive desk. He looks just as creepy and alien-like as the last time I saw him. To Thomus' credit, he doesn't seem nervous at all. I wonder how many times he's had to stare that monster in the face.

"Do you know why, exactly, they're demanding her release?" Voldemort asks.

"Yes, my Lord," Thomus replies smoothly. "They believe that since she's not a citizen of the British Wizarding Ministry, then she should be released to her country of origin."

"Why is this filth of such significance? Because she can do a few tricks without a wand?"

Thomus pauses only briefly. "She is a Wandless Magic Tournament Champion, sir. Two years in a row."

At this news, Voldemort sits up. "That is who your Lot is?"

"I apologize, sir," Thomus says. "I thought you were aware."

"I've heard she cheated," the Dark Lord sniffs. He stands, his long black robes slithering along the floor. Except it's not just his robes slithering about, it's also that giant fucking snake glued to his side.

Thomus chuckles. "Yes, I've heard that theory floating about as well. However, I can assue you she's no different than any of the rest," Thomus says, much to my surprise. Voldemort raises an eyebrow at him, despite not having any. "That scheme is quite advanced for her, I'm afraid."

He says this so easily, so casually, and it's so convincing that I actually take a step back from him.

"Ah," Voldemort hums, circling the room, gazing at the different portraits. Most of them sit empty. Except for Dumbledore's. Dumbledore stares Voldemort head on from his chair, looking seriously unimpressed at the Dark Lord below him. "And what of her abilities? Has she given you any trouble?"

"She has only needed a stronger suppression potion," Thomus replies. "With it, her magic isn't a threat and neither is she. When not suppressed, the abilities she does have are unremarkable. Best not forget she's only a mudblood after all."

Voldemort turns on his heel at that. "Are you quite sure you feel that way, Thomus?" he hisses, starting toward him. "I've recently been made aware that your behavior has been quite unbefitting of a Death Eater of your blood status."

There's a heavy silence and his next words sink me all the way to rock bottom.

"You, of all people, should know better than anyone," Voldemort chides. "It would be a shame to lose you to the same fate."

Thomus swallows. "Yes, sir."

Voldemort sighs, his hand coming down onto Thomus' shoulder. "You are, and have proven yourself to be valuable to me, young man. I will not forget all that you have done in my service. You deserve your pet." His other hand comes to grasp his other shoulder. "But do not let that dirty blooded whore fill your mind with romantic notions. If you must, use it to your advantage. Play into it. Let her believe you care for her. Her loyalty and obedience will be a powerful tool."

Voldemort releases Thomus after a moment and dismisses him with a wave of his arm. "That will be all."

"Of course, sir."

I keep to Thomus' back as he seamlessly turns and leaves the room to descend a spiral staircase. Dazed, I follow Thomus as my head swells with doubt. Is he still pretending? What if he's been fucking with me this whole time? Just like last time.

I'm not sure when I go from following Thomus on the stairs, to trailing behind him in what looks like the Forbidden Forest. The large mossy trees feel both far away and crowded so close an unsettling, panicked feeling creeps across the back of my neck. I can't see my way out of here through the blue mist. All I can do is follow Thomus' ever shrinking form, anxiety spurring my feet faster after him.

My heart pulses in my throat and the moment I lose sight of him, I stupidly call out his name. My voice echoes and he's suddenly in front of me, halting within arm's reach, freezing me entirely. He's breathing heavily, eyes scanning his surroundings.

I open my mouth to say his name again, but another voice beats me to it. It calls for him - sweet, melodic, and eerily familiar. When his name is said again, the voice shocks me to my core… because it sounds like my voice.

My jaw stays dropped as his head snaps in the direction the voice came from. It calls for him again and this time he doesn't hesitate, spinning on his heel and launching into the trees in search of its source.

I follow him through the brush, quickly losing sight of him, but still picking up the sound of his hurried steps. When I emerge into a clearing, I see he's stopped and I have to step around him to find out what he's staring at.

It's a mossy, Roman style gazebo. It's white marble shines like a pearl, giving it an ancient ethereal look, and right in the center, draped on a chaise covered in flowers, is a goddess of some kind.

"Thomus!" the goddess calls, spotting him.

After the encouragement, Thomus' feet carry him across the small clearing in three long strides. He immediately kneels at her feel, burying his face in her lap, hands tightly gripping her hips. My approach is much slower, totally disbelieving what I'm seeing.

The goddess is… me. Well, she certainly looks like me with her bright pink hair curled in abundance around her. She's definitely me at first glance, but the closer I look at her face, the more uncanny it seems. My guess it's probably because it's a dream.

He got the body right though. There's absolutely no hiding it's shape in the dress she's wearing. The dress is white, long, and so sheer every curve is on full display, even the ones that I try not to remember exist. God, even the pink of my nipples is clearly visible.

The goddess runs her fingers through his hair and gazes lovingly down at him. He nestles in closer, rubbing his face up over her fupa and stomach. He says something, but it's too muffled for me to hear. She responds anyway.

"Yes, my love?"

My love?

I once again stare at them in shock as he takes her hands in his and raises his head back to her eye level. Thomus brings his lips to her fingers before he murmurs, "You are my sun, my moon, my star-lit sky." Then one of his hands dips down to her ankle, slipping fingers beneath the hazy hem to glide slowly up her calf. "Without you, I dwell in darkness."

I'm trying so hard to control my breathing as if it alone can stop this avalanche of emotions. His hand disappears between her thighs and her smile grows as his words continue.

"Your power has enchanted me," he declares sincerely, "and I am helpless against it." When his voice drops in tone she gasps, her full pouted lips parting slowly, in sync with her knees. His arm moves between them and wet noises drift out into the silence around us.

I've never had a more strange out of body experience as this one. And I thought the time-travel was weird enough.

His other hand releases hers, moving to her shoulder where he guides her to lie back along the chaise. Settled, he buries his fingers into her plush form, molding her to his touch.

Her arms reach out for him, able to cup his face and grab his shoulder. "Come to me now," she begs breathlessly. "Let me worship you in my arms."

The rhythm of his arm suddenly intensifies and her back arches in ecstasy as she cries out. His free hand pushes back the flowing dress over her knees so she's suddenly exposed before him.

"I can't stop," he gasps, his lustful gaze jumping from her face to her puss - oh, my god. "The beating of my heart - it pounds like never before."

There's something else the goddess has that I don't. Pubic hair.

And it's bright, fucking, pink.

My hand shoots up to cover my mouth before I spew out a cackle that could possibly wake him up. I silently shake with laughter as the steamy dream continues.

"Death makes the lover's a trivial thing," he whispers as he lowers his face closer between her thighs and to the glistening pussy he's still fingering. He gazes reverently at her body as a hand runs down her inner thigh, and he gives the most malleable bit of flesh near her pussy an appreciateive squeeze.

Before he can dive for her, she cradles his face once more. He fully leans into it, sighing heavily. "Your touch is worth a thousand deaths," he murmurs.

The hand over my mouth goes from holding back laughter, to holding back a pathetic whimper. His declaration has tears flooding my eyes and the air disappearing from my lungs.

I'm not crazy? Of course this is a dream, but this is literally a peek into his sub-conscious. It's proof that he's been telling the truth.

The tidalwave of emotions that come with that realization are far too overwhelming to experience while in someone else's head. So I back out, opening my eyes to shift back to reality. In it, tears have already escaped and pool by my cheek on his shoulder.

I shift onto my elbow, blinking and wiping away any remaining tears. Anxious to know if I've woken him, I stare at his face while my eyes readjust to the lighting. When it seems like I haven't, I slowly roll over until my feet touch the floor. Snatching my hoodie from the foot of the bed, I shrug it on and leave through the bathroom.

Internally I'm already chastising myself for even getting out of bed as my toes nearly freeze before I manage to pull on socks and a pair of undies from my wardrobe.

He loves me and the first thing I do is run from him? What am I doing?

I know I have a clean pair of sweatpants in the dryer, so I grab a laundry basket and silently tip toe downstairs. Setting the basket on the floor, I use Accio to quickly locate my pants. While I shrug them on, I cast a house keeping spell that has my laundry folding itself.

As I sort through the folded clothes, I think I hear a faint meow, so I pause, and when I hear it again I'm already turning towards the kitchen. Peeking out the back door window, I see Caelan staring up at me from the patio.

Why wouldn't he just use the cat door? I tap it with my foot to find it won't budge. Either way, I open the door and he quickly glides past my ankles. By the time I turn around, he's shifted to his less feline self.

He looks exhausted. Dark shadows form around his eyes and look stark compared to his alabaster complexion.

Caelan gives me a half-smile and looks sheepish. "Got time for a Floo call?"

"Yeah, sure," I nod. "With who? Thomus is asleep upstairs."

"Kyle. There's been some news."

I push my eyebrows together. "I'm guessing bad news?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure, really."

We quietly step into the livingroom. Caelan sets up the fire while I start up the TV and cast Muffliato, hoping both will mask any talking. By the time I'm kneeling next to Caelan, Kyle's face flickers in the green fire.

"Look, I'll just cut to the chase," he starts. "Eric Roosevelt's dead."

"Oh my god, that's awful," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Aye, same here mate. How long ago?"

Kyle takes a deep breath. It's hard to read his expression when it's only peaking through the flames, but it looks like he's pretty shaken up. "A few days. Alder, we found the recipe you wrote him at the Christmas party among his notes."

"Yeah?" I ask. "Why's that important?"

He pauses a moment before saying, "We need you to continue his work."

[draganwhorror]

Holy crap, you guys! I have officially been on this thing called Tumblr.com for 12 years now! 12! This was my very first post with this blog:

I originally started with a different blog where I just posted random things. I got myself involved with two different birthday projects for two different actors, and both of them responded to me (one through Tumblr and one through Twitter).

I deleted that blog (it only lasted a few months) and started this one, becoming a Tom Hiddleston fan blog. I garnered what I like to call my "cult following" mainly because I wrote fanfiction constantly. Like, almost daily. I think, at my peak, I had 250+ stories posted. I was relatively prolific (or so I like to think). This was my follower count in 2014:

My life kinda spiraled out of control in 2014, and I did take a break from Tumblr for a little while. Came back and decided to be less Tom Hiddleston focused and more multifandom post focused. Took a break again after a bit, finally returning in December 2023.

That's when I changed my username (it was Tom Hiddleston related prior to this) and decided to lose myself in Ted Raimi spam (among other things).

I'm currently sitting pretty with 5500+ followers still, but I'm sure like 90% of them probably aren't active anymore.

Anyway, I know this is all really random, but I just wanted to celebrate being on this crazy site for more than a decade already. I can't believe it!

[crashdevlin]

Losses and Gains 3- From the Rooftops

Author’s Note: This is the third chapter of Losses and Gains, the second part of To Have it All. This is Something More...from Jensen's side!

Summary: Jensen spirals. No one can stop him. no one can steal his focus.

Pairing:  Jensen x Reader, background Reader x Tom Hiddleston

Word count: 3210

Story Warnings: open marriage, mentions of depression and heartbreak, bad things, alcohol as a crutch, anger, fighting

~~~

I’m not sure how I missed the fact that I was starting to spiral, but I was convinced that I was dealing with my depression in a completely reasonable and healthy way. I was lying to myself, but I just couldn’t see that. Dee could. Jared could. Doc Jamison could…oh, and he was vocal about it, judgmental.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish with how you’re acting?” he asked.

I shrugged, looking at the door, wishing I was out in the hall with Danneel. “No. I’m mourning. How’s that selfish?”

“You don’t have a reason to be mourning.”

My eyes went wide at his words, and I turned to look at him. “I don’t?”

“She’s not family. She’s not really a friend. She was a coworker, but she’s not even that anymore, is she? She ran off as soon as she was able. Do you think, perhaps, she knew how toxic this situation was?” I held back a growl and looked away, my jaw tight. “Why are you still in denial of it, Jensen?”

“I’m not in denial, you ass,” I snapped. “I’m in love…and I’m allowed to be, okay?”

“No, you aren’t,” he said, and it felt like I was frustrating him. “You were never supposed to fall in love with her in the first place. You have a loving wife who allowed you to have a sexual relationship with another woman, something that most women would never allow, and you have convinced yourself that you have fallen in love with her. Well, you’ve lost Y/n, Jensen. She broke off your arrangement because it was horrible for everyone involved. You need to move on before you lose Danneel, too.”

“I’m not gonna lose Danneel,” I argued. “That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

If I’d listened to him, if I’d been able to get out of my head, maybe I would have been able to fix it, but…I couldn’t do it. I went home after that doctor’s appointment, and I poured myself a glass of Glenmorangie, and I sat myself down in my office, and I pulled out my phone, and I started scrolling. I started on Instagram, swiping through every picture she’d posted. A pit formed in my stomach when I saw her posting pictures of her and her Marvel costars. The way he looked at her. The way he touched her shoulder. The way she smiled in every shot with him. I wasn’t even seeing the others anymore. Tom fuckin’ Hiddleston was the only one in the pictures with her.

Dee was in the doorway watching me for a good long time before I picked up the bottle and poured another glass. “What?” I snapped, tired. I was so tired.

She let out a sad little gasp and stepped into the office. “Birdie was asking if we could go for a picnic tomorrow. Not a hike, just a picnic in the park. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t know. I’m leavin’ tomorrow night and-”

“And that’s why we would have to do it tomorrow. We could do it for lunch.” I rolled my eyes and took a drink of scotch. “Please, Jensen.”

I was consumed by anger and depression, but I knew I couldn’t say ‘no’. So I nodded. “Tomorrow. I’ll make sandwiches.” Dee kissed my cheek and left with a ‘thank you’. I kept drinking, stalking Y/n’s social media until I found my way to her Facebook and ancient pictures of her and Nate. God, what did she see in him? Scrawny, scraggly, no-dick piece of shit. At least Tom wasn’t this ugly…and he was supposed to be a good guy.

I fell asleep on the recliner in my office, but I got up and had a drink before I went to the kitchen and started to make sandwiches. We went to the park, had lunch, and I tried to focus on the kids because I could barely look at Danneel. Every time I looked at her, my mind told me that she was the reason I felt so much loss.

I slept in the guest room that night. Last chance to sleep with Dee before I left for Vancouver, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I got drunk, passed out in the guest room, and then I left for the airport in the morning with barely a ‘goodbye’. I had a Jack and Coke on the plane…and then another, and another. I stopped drinking two hours before touchdown, but I was lit by then. I was still drunk by the time I climbed into the SUV.

The condo was big…cold…dark…and it felt empty. I noticed that Y/n’s thick coat was gone as soon as I opened the door. I didn’t have to keep searching to know that she’d already been by to grab her things, but I did. I walked through and made note of every single piece of her that she took from me. Every piece of Y/n that Dee took from me. There wasn’t a lot of Y/n’s stuff there, but it was enough that I could see empty spots. I could see her absence. Every room I walked through got me lower and lower. I noticed she left her toothbrush in her rush to get out…and a little 3 oz bottle of her favorite perfume on the sink. It was half empty, but when I picked it up and held it to my nose, I got lost in all these memories of her.

I laid out on the bed and cried like a fucking baby. I cried myself to sleep.

I could barely pull myself out of bed to get to the studio the following day. I had a beer for breakfast before I even got dressed. Clif shook his head at me, but he didn’t say a word. Jared was another story.

“You look like shit, dude.”

“Thanks,” I responded, trying to sound sarcastic.

“Not sure the makeup team can cover those dark circles.”

“They do it for Misha all the time.”

“Come on, man, you gotta buck up.” He reached over and lightly punched my arm, and I looked up at him.

“Buck up? That’s your advice here?”

“My advice is to get the fuck over it,” he said, dropping his voice so others on the lot couldn’t hear him. “And get over it now because she’s coming up behind you, and if you make this hard for her, I’m gonna make the makeup team have to cover some bruises.”

I went stiff as Jared stepped around me, a big smile on his face. “Y/n! What are you doing here? They bring you back already?” I could see him go for a hug out of the corner of my eye, and I wanted so bad to be able to hug her, too, but all I could do was train my facial expression and slowly turn around.

“I’m just here to drop off Jensen’s key before I head back to the states.”

“You could have left it in the apartment, you know?” Jared teased. “Always making shit more complicated than necessary.”

She looked down as she pulled out of the hug, some of that old shyness sparking in her eyes. “I didn’t think about that,” she said, digging into her pocket. I was hoping that she didn’t leave it behind because she wanted to see me again, but the way she refused to meet my eyes told me it was wishful dreaming. She offered the key to me, and I looked away as I took it from her…and then I walked away. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t beg her to see the pain in my eyes. I just walked away.

~~~

Things didn’t get better. I was lost. It wasn’t long before I was drinking ‘til I blacked out every night and having the hair of the dog the next morning to get myself going. I’d go to call her after I finished shooting for the night, and as soon as I remembered I couldn’t call her, that she shacked up with Loki, I put down the phone and picked up a bottle instead.

I wasn’t dealing. I was stewing about Dee, only talking to her over text and ignoring her when she called. So, of course, she called Jared. Of course, he made the bad choice to come up to me when I was looking at an InTouch magazine with Y/n on the cover. Y/n and Tom, on the roof of some restaurant in Atlanta. She looked so flustered, just from holding his hand. Fuck. She used to look at me like that.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone?” Jared stomped up to me, snatching the magazine out of my hand.

“What are you talkin’ about? I answer my phone all the time.”

“Oh, so you just send your wife to voicemail?” I rolled my eyes and reached for the magazine. I wanted to read the paps’ completely correct theories about Tom and Y/n. He moved out of the way, and I stood up, trying to get it. He moved it out of my reach. “Why aren’t you answering Danneel’s calls?”

“Because I don’t wanna talk to her!”

“She’s your wife!”

“She’s the bane of my existence, right now!” I bit back. Jared’s eyes seemed to flash black. He was a bundle of anger and rage so fucking quick.

He looked down at the magazine in his hand and practically growled as he tossed it across the soundstage. He wrapped his hand in the flannel I was wearing and swung my body around like I was a fucking ragdoll until he had me pressed against the closest wall. "I'm getting really fucking sick of this shit, Ackles. Do you have any idea how Y/n would feel about the way you're acting right now?"

"Get the fuck off of-"

"She would be fucking pissed at you," he snapped, pressing me harder into the wall. Dude's big. I couldn’t have done much against him even if I weren’t still drunk. "She never wanted to be a problem in your marriage. You promised her that she wasn’t going to get in between you and Dee. She's not even here, and she's causing you to act like a fucking fool."

"I'm not a-"

"You are throwing away everything, you fucking dumbass, on a woman who isn't even with you anymore!"

"Whose fault is that?! Who chased her out of my life, huh?"

"She gave you permission, and she's allowed to take it back. She-"

"That's not fair! That's not fair to anyone-"

"That's life! Your wife, who you usually love and adore, decided she wasn't comfortable anymore, and you fucking ignored her until she took it into her own fucking hands. Consent given doesn't mean consent forever.” I grabbed at his wrist, but he just shook his head and released me. “Call your wife, set up an appointment with your counselor, and leave the bottle alone, you understand me? Fucking dumbass.”

I watched him walk away, ignoring the stagehands and PAs staring at us in shock. They'd keep quiet about it, but God damn. Was Jared trying to start fucking rumors across the studio? I looked at the magazine, then pulled my phone out.

"You gotta stop calling Jared on me. If I don't wanna talk, I don't have to."

"Jay. Come on. You can't just ignore me about-"

"I fuckin' can. Because just like you were allowed to say whatever the fuck you wanted to say to Y/n, I'm allowed to decide not to talk to you until I'm done being pissed off about what you did. And this isn't helping anything, you know? Badgering me is going to have the opposite effect of the one you're going for."

"I'm not badgering you," she snapped. "I'm just getting tired of chasing you!"

"Then stop!" I snapped as I walked toward my trailer. "Dee, I'm not going to be able to let this go if you keep pissing me off every other day."

"I'm so sorry that me trying to save our marriage pisses you off so fucking much! When you decide you want to talk to me again, just let me know."

Then she hung up on me. Part of me was angry at her audacity, but mostly I was happy that I wouldn't have to worry about dodging her calls for a while. I was being a dick, but I couldn’t see past how I was feeling. Something in my brain wouldn't let me see how I was fucking everything up. I wanted to feel how I felt, and nothing was going to get in the way of that, not Dee and not Jared and definitely not Dr. Douchebag.

~~~

Things with Jared were tense for the next couple of weeks, especially after he came to me to show a post some fan made, accusing me of cheating on Dee with Y/n. The fan obviously didn't know what went down, but they got really fucking close with their guesses. As soon as I read it, I knew Y/n must be freaking out, but I couldn't bring myself to do the same. Part of me wanted the whole thing out in the open, so I could get some support from somewhere, even if it was from the fans who would agree with me no matter what I did.

Jared was watching me, expectantly, as I read through the post. I'm sure he thought I'd freak out too, but I just shrugged. "Who gives a fuck?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's a bunch of allegations from a fan who said, themselves, that they hope they're crazy."

"This is right on the edge of you being caught. Don't you care about the rules anymore?"

"I'm not gonna get caught because I'm not doing anything. Tell Y/n it doesn't fucking matter," I said, completely dismissing him as I walked away from him to go sulk in my trailer for a few minutes. "This is the stupidest shit. Still gotta be worried about getting caught when I don't even have her anymore."

I started pacing. What other option did I have to get the angry energy out? I wasn't supposed to drink because that's selfish. I wasn’t supposed to sulk because that's selfish. I wasn’t supposed to feel because that's fucking selfish! So I paced, and I got angrier...and then I took a drink. Not a strong one or a big one...just enough of a beer to get me level so I could shoot my next scenes.

"I got her to calm down," Jared said when I got back to the Bunker set. "But she's fucking worried about you."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

"That why you smell like beer? Cause you're fine?"

I clicked my tongue against my teeth and turned away. "How about you and Y/n mind your own damn business, and I'll mind mine?"

"You are my business, Ackles, and if you're acting like an idiot because of Y/n, then it's her business too."

I shook my head. "Actually, it's not. I'm fine. Whether I've gotta have a bit of something to help me through the day or not, it doesn’t matter because I'm making it through. I'm doing my job, so why don't you focus on yours?" I asked, pointedly, as Phil Sgriccia settled into his chair.

Jared just shook his head at me.

~~~

A couple of days later, a week at the most, I got done shooting and grabbed my phone. I hovered my thumb over Y/n’s contact for a minute, thinking about calling her, checking on her, professing my love again and hoping she'd care, or even just to tell her I forgave her and hoped she would extend the same courtesy...but I didn’t. I parked my ass on one of the stools at the breakfast bar in my trailer and Googled her name. Not in a stalker way, just to check up on her and her career.

A dozen tabloid articles popped up. "Tom Hiddleston Declares Love For Marvel Costar" and "What We Know About Tom and Y/n" and "Tom Shocks Fans With Facebook Post". I clicked on whatever the Daily Mail wrote and was taken to Tom’s Facebook page. I gasped a little at the picture of Y/n. It was obviously taken without her knowledge and definitely shared without her permission. She was in just an oversized black t-shirt, not hers. She was standing in a hotel room, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing just his fucking shirt...and he posted that for the world to see.

Under the picture was a block of text.

6 months ago saw a rewrite to the Marvel Cinematic Shorts Anthology script, which brought a new minor character. Kevin Feige knew who he wanted in the role before the script was even done being altered; a relatively unknown actress with a single acting credit to her name- y/f/n y/l/n. I was immediately drawn to the woman and asked her for drinks before we’d finished in Hair and Makeup the morning I met her. I’d fallen in love before the week was out. Y/n is a private woman, not used to being so in the public eye, so I acceded to her request for discretion, portraying myself as her friend whenever someone might be looking. I tried to convince her several times that we should go public over the past 2 months and she dismissed each attempt. This morning I discovered the reason. She’s expecting I will leave. She doesn’t want anyone profiting on her heartbreak or to give them a reason to judge or, worse, pity her. But I’m not planning to leave. I have no desire to be another on her short list of past relationships. I’ve resisted the urge to shout the truth of my heart from the rooftops, but no longer. I’m in love with this sweet Southern woman and leaving her is not an option for my heart.

I read it twice, my heart pounding in my ears. As pissed as I was when she walked away, it was nothing compared to the rage I felt reading that post. He told the world. He shouted his love from social media rooftops. He praised her in public in a way I could never have done. They were real. They were going to last. As I imagined the marriage proposal that was sure to come and be announced in a similar public fashion in the next few months, I couldn’t hold the anger back anymore. My phone hit the fridge door, denting the stainless steel and breaking into a hundred pieces of glass, plastic, and electrical components. Since it was closest, the Kuerig was next to fly, hitting the TV and creating a spiderweb of cracks across the screen. I grabbed the stool next, bashing it into the floor over and over until I lost the steam of my anger, and I dropped to the floor to pant and let out a few angry tears...which turned into me sobbing on the floor among my broken belongings.

[iolaussharpe-24]

What do you think about selfcest.

I've never heard of this before but the first thing to come to mind was "Loki and the Loon" which was a comic series I found out about back in my early Loki mania days that shipped Loki and Tom Hiddleston together. I'm guessing it's a little closer to the Sylki ship?

My brain is broken. 💀

Is that what it is? Self love? You x You? I don't know. The stuff I do and don't know is all over the map. If this is what I'm assuming, then... I guess it's okay? I mean, I'm someone who very much hates myself more often than not but one of the biggest reasons for that is the fact that I think I'm a narcissist....

Starting to see why I gravitate towards the characters I do. Self love/loathing seem to be a theme. Loki, Bucky, Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, Jareth the Goblin King; I was watching What If earlier and remembered that there were only two people I cared about in Eternals. One died (Gilgamesh) and the other was Kingo.

I should probably be in therapy. I've been told I should be in therapy. I want to go to therapy. I can't afford fucking therapy!!

And I'm spiraling but I've spent way too much time typing all this to go back and erase it so have a taste of my undiluted insanity, Tumblr!

[lord-hunkyhair]

fly-inghighx reblogged 

clownjail

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @meghawhopp <33

Last song: Down by the River by Borislav Slavov from the Baldur’s Gate 3 Soundtrack (or more specifically the cover of Down by the River by Nerissa Ravencroft)

Favorite color: Blue and purple!

Last movie/TV show: Seinfeld, I’m currently on season four!

Sweet/spicy/savory?: I have a huge sweet tooth, so sweet things

Relationship status: Single

Last thing I googled: I searched up the show “Arthur” because I was trying to find that one meme where Buster was like “You really think someone would do that, just go on the internet and spread lies?”

Current obsession: Fragaria memories and tears of themis mostly^^

Tag Nine People: @kyaruun @xinieeee @deadmansbistro @florapot @hunita812 @scuffle-with-spirals @rexonalapis @maxellera @manicpixiedoomedgirl

margolovescoffeeandbooks

thanks for the tag, tina!

last song: you're losing me taylor swift

favorite color: pink

last movie/tv show: napoleon (2023)

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet

relationship status: single and in a permanent state of having a crush on random people in the school hallway

last thing i googled: edouard philipponnat (he played tsar alexander in napoleon and he's sooo pretty, i wanted to check him out lol)

current obsession: peter parker <3

tagging @glassdandelion @shefollowedthestars @faultsline @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @tooinlovetothinkstraight14

tooinlovetothinkstraight14

tysm for the tag @margolovescoffeeandbooks <333

last song: so what now by renee rapp

favorite color: purple

last movie/tv show: catching fire

savory/spicy/sweet: spicy

relationship status: single

last thing i googled: taylor swift (i wanted to see a good photo of her outfit from the renaissance premiere)

current obsession: tom hiddleston <3

tagging (no pressure): @urbanflorals, @tiwtdafs, @nights-out-of-sight, @impossibletoacclimate, @isitoversnowtvs, @spaceagebachelormann, @riordanness, @stvrlighhttt, @someones-name-insterted-here

urbanflorals

Ahh tysm for the tag @tooinlovetothinkstraight14 :)

Last song: Dancing with out hands tied by Taylor Swift

Favourite colour: Green <3

Last movie/tv show: Friends.

savory/sweet/spicy: Sweet (but can I be all three??)

relationship status: single pringle

last thing I googled: How much blood can you lose and still survive? (Don't judge me okay!!)

current obsession: books (most of the time lmao)

npt: @crenna, @got-love-struck, @skeelly, @reminiscentreader, @art-of-fools, @nqds, @1-2-3-letsgobestie, @hathorneheiress, @yourinterruptingmyreading.

Thx for the tag @urbanflorals!

Last song: Be Alright by Dean Lewis

Favorite color: purple

Last move/tv show: The OA

Savory/sweet/spicy: sweet

Relationship status: single

Last thing I googled: painting ideas

Current obsession: books (specifically the Ash Princess trilogy)

I'm tagging: @depressedraven9 @espresso0depresso @awful-amatuer @lord-hunkyhair @book-lover85

last song: scrawny

favourite colour: green/black

last tv show : helluva boss

savoury/sweet/spicy: spicy

relationship status: it’s complicated

last thing I googled: when is next full moon

current obsession: helluva boss / kotlc

I’m tagging: @psychic-physician @depressedraven9 @def-not-kaz-brekker @dex-the-smart-one @multifandom-asexual

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @meghawhopp <33

Last song: Down by the River by Borislav Slavov from the Baldur’s Gate 3 Soundtrack (or more specifically the cover of Down by the River by Nerissa Ravencroft)

Favorite color: Blue and purple!

Last movie/TV show: Seinfeld, I’m currently on season four!

Sweet/spicy/savory?: I have a huge sweet tooth, so sweet things

Relationship status: Single

Last thing I googled: I searched up the show “Arthur” because I was trying to find that one meme where Buster was like “You really think someone would do that, just go on the internet and spread lies?”

Current obsession: Fragaria memories and tears of themis mostly^^

Tag Nine People: @kyaruun @xinieeee @deadmansbistro @florapot @hunita812 @scuffle-with-spirals @rexonalapis @maxellera @manicpixiedoomedgirl

[queendumpling]

a list of horror media that i've consumed over the past few months with a bit of my thoughts on them, in no particular order under the cut.

but my tldr recs, even if horror is not your thing: the haunting of hill house, nbc hannibal, my house walkthrough, crimson peak

the conjuring (movie):

it was fine. my first movie that centers around an exorcism but ultimately wasn't super compelling of a watch for me. there's a really funny scene where there's a floating gun that ends up shooting at people and it was so absurd that me and my friends all ended up bursting out laughing

the grudge (original jp ver. movie):

genuinely very spooky. had some trouble sleeping at night and taking showers for awhile (if you know, you know). but when I finished watching it I was just really sad by the end because of the bleak note it ends on and the nature of the cycle of revenge as something all consuming and destructive, sparing no one. pretty straightforward and easy to follow, especially compared to the next one -

kairo (or pulse, original jp ver. movie):

also genuinely very spooky. had trouble sleeping at night for a bit because there are some incredibly eerie and unnerving scenes that give me chills just thinking about them. but was also pretty sad by the end of it because of the bleak note it ends on and the inherent loneliness of people/impossibility of human connection. so it was in a very similar vein of flavor as the grudge, but tbh kairo is probably the movie that has stuck with me more because I have ruminated over it so many times. it's a very weird movie in the sense that a lot of the things that happen don't actually make a lot of sense, even within the irrational nature of horror. but its tone and theme comes across very strongly regardless.

her body and other stories (short story collection):

the thing about this short story collection was that I wanted to like it so badly, but in the end a lot of the stories were very much either hits or misses. it's an interesting collection that's centered around the horror of femininity and the female experience and bodies. the husband stitch is the first story and is still probably my favorite, followed by real women have bodies. especially heinous also stands out to me (imagine an AU of law and order SVU that takes all the episode titles and uses them to construct a very weird narrative with ghosts and doppelgangers)

talk to me (movie)

a really neat concept (teenagers in possession of a plaster hand that you can use to allow a ghost to inhabit your body, briefly, and used as a party game, which quickly goes wrong) that serves as an exploration into grief and how it spirals so out of control in the search of connection, finding stability and sensibility even when your world is falling apart so quickly, all because your bad decisions have snowballed so out of control. more gorey and gruesome than I expected but honestly a really good film, even if it also does end on a really depressing note

crimson peak (movie)

as weird as it may sound, I think this might be a new comfort movie to me? gothic horror romance movie where the setting is immaculate. story might be predictable but it executes it well. it's not terribly scary, imo (a jump scare or two, yes there are ghosts) but the characters, the overall mood, how you can see the way love persists and can protect and also twist. it's *chef's kiss*. also I did not notice the R rating on the movie so got really surprised at the sex scene, lol. tom hiddleston is also in this movie but I only know him for his MCU stuff, so it was pretty interesting to see him as the male lead in this movie (but he did great!)

my house walkthrough (jp short film, available on youtube)

PEAK HORROR, highly recommend. no jumpscares but is a phenomenal piece of work that is everything that I want in horror that creates an unsettling atmosphere focused around a particular setting and the sentiments left behind there. it was also made by like 1 guy and there's a great behind the scenes/making of video that is SO cool to see just how it got made. it's scary and I was definitely so tense and scared while I watched it but it was genuinely so perfect

gretel and hansel (movie)

less perfect movie. confusing in terms of what the actual point of it was supposed to be (I get that they're attempting some kind of "feminist" re-telling of the hansel and gretel fairy tale, but it's executed very poorly. can you tell that it's 'feminist' because gretel's name is first!!!!???!?) and not particularly scary either. there is a hot goth witch though and another very cool witch design that I liked!!

saw (movie):

tbh? a good movie. wouldn't really call it horror as it's more of a thriller imo, but it has such an interesting mystery and is tinged with an escape room plot that made it really fun to watch. idk how the other movies are, but I like the contained story in this movie and the twists in it

american horror story, delicate (tv series)

I'm actually 1 episode away from catching up with part 1, but so far it's been okay. like I enjoy the show enough to keep watching, but it's not exactly the most compelling thing I've watched this fall either. but fun bonus is that kim k is actually very good in her role! the opening sequence has some very cool stylistic visuals

nbc hannibal (tv series)

still have to finish s3, just wanted to take a break because I breezed through s1 and s2 in like.. less than a week I feel. also oddly another one of those comfort media kind of shows. like I felt insane watching it but it's also so compelling and emotional. so so SO good, happy to say that it holds up even after all these years

the haunting of hill house (tv series)

I just watched it in like 2 days and it's gotta be one of the best things I've seen and does absolutely everything right (except maybe landing the last 2 episodes but the gripes are minor). like ok probably obvious by now that I love a horror that revolves around a particular setting and the sentiments surrounding that. but this show is like the perfect haunted house story in which the house is not haunted by a monster per se, but the horror and the haunt is the house itself. the house itself is the monster that is hungry and needs to be fed and the way it feeds on the family is exactly what I wanted to see. the cinematography is amazing and the storytelling is masterful and the way the series eventually becomes less like horror and more like a family drama with horror elements where the story all builds towards understanding the events surrounding one very tragic and traumatizing night. the buildup, the aftermath, the resolution. the way it's about love and family and trauma and recovery. it's absolutely beautiful and honestly recommend it even if horror is not your thing :')

[televinita]

On a related note, I’ve been trying to trace back how this particular spiral started this time and I just --

It. It was literally an ONTD Walking Post of him w/ a stroller and a dog. And I knew about the baby, so my actual reaction was “He has a DOG and it’s THE CUTEST SORT OF DOG??” and somehow --

-- somehow this one single post (that I didn’t even think I had that much of an effect on me! 100% of my initial focus was on the dog! I only started googling to find out more about the dog) --

kicked off ALL OF THIS.

[mobius-m-mobius]

LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2022  ♡ ⤷ Day 5 - Favorite Scene(s) - MOBIUS + LEAVING LOKI SPEECHLESS

[gloriousburden]

this is so well said!! the “ragnarok felt a bit like we were being punished for wanting to enjoy the “wrong” character” part is genuinely so true. i’ve always felt like that. because that’s exactly what taika wanted to do with the movie. he knew people liked loki and that he became a fan favorite, but instead he wanted the focus to be on thor. which there is nothing wrong with, i actually really like thor a lot and i think he deserves more appreciation.

but why do you have to put loki down so much, to allow thor to shine? the way they went about it was just so, so horrible. as tom hiddleston put it… “there is no loki without thor, there is no thor without loki.” they both deserve to shine together!! like those scenes in the ship from the dark world where they’re mocking each other in a sibling to sibling manner. it wasn’t degrading either of their characters, and it genuinely was funny. they still had their moments where they shined together, even if they had their issues.

we weren’t laughing at them, we were laughing with them. taika and his shitty sense of humor… he got that confused. i actually became a fan of the mcu/loki after ragnarok had came out, but… i kind of still can’t believe ragnarok is a real movie, and that it’s supposed to be a thor movie. it’s so lackluster and does not even take itself seriously, when it so desperately NEEDS TO!! and don’t even get me started on how they killed off the warrior’s three…

that avengers comparison is so good too. actually, the whole point of loki’s characterization in the dark world was to sort of see him at his worst, at his lowest. directly after we saw him at his most villainous, and most powerful in avengers. but somehow… he got treated worse in ragnarok (writing wise). at his lowest, he was still written very well. you can “humble” a character in more ways than just making the audience laugh at them. it can be done in a serious manner! break them down, make them spiral, take away what made them so powerful, etc..

we know loki has done bad things. we’ve seen him get punished for doing these things. yet, none of those punishments involved the audience laughing at him. they didn’t involve making a mockery out of him, or his motives. it was handled seriously, and people liked it. if anything… it’s the one thing i see mcu casuals say they did like about tdw.

i actually don’t mind if people like ragnarok. it’s just… i hate when people act like you have to love it. we have genuine criticisms of it outside of “woobifying” loki. God, i hate that point!! you’re so spot on with that. we want his actions talked about in a serious manner. not like how it was barely done in the series when they needed a punchline, or how it was done in the entirety of ragnarok.

people getting mad and offended at the fact that some of us don’t like loki’s characterization post tdw (aka we dislike ragnarok/iw) like ok you literally approve of loki constantly being made fun of, not being taken seriously, and not having anything he’s been through the past however many years being elaborated on… as well as him making jokes (during a play he supposedly wrote) about his jotun heritage when he was literally deeply ashamed of it, and when asgard is very discriminatory to frost giants… none of us really care to hear of your thoughts on loki in the first place if you approve of that bullshit and think any of it makes any fucking sense

[wellhellomarvel]

Tom about Owen at the Loki panel: He’s a brilliant man with experience and taste, curious, playful, inventive, responsive, imaginative

So essentially this:

[folkinsomnia]

Today's ADHD brain spirals hit me with a tattoo idea that might be kinda cool if someone who can actually draw and put messy concepts to paper came up with it instead of me:

My favorite poem is Auden's As I Walked Out One Evening, and a pair of lines from it goes, "And the crack in the tea-cup opens/A lane to the land of the dead." Soooo here's YET ANOTHER ONE for the endless tattoo list, and this one would need so much input from a theoretical artist I'd commission 😵‍💫

[colorsunimaginable]

Bought by a Death Eater - the spare dark au // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc // part one

summary // Melisa Alder is an American witch caught in the Death Eater's clutches after Voldemort wins the Battle of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters hold an auction of mudbloods and bloodtraiters. After no one bids on her, she thinks she's stuck with her original handler, Goyle, Jr., but a masked Death Eater buys her at the last minute. What are his plans for her? Will she ever find out who's beneath the mask?

this is a darker, alternative version of my fic The Spare. It's mostly going to be smut.

word count // 2.6k masterlist

warnings // mdni, 18+. this fic will fetishize/body worship a fat female body, so if that offends you, please dni. this fic will have non-con/rape elements, bondage, light bdsm, sexual slavery, sterilization, and loss of virginity. caution advised or enjoy ;)

part one //

My life is over. And I’m laughing.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, I woke up in a hospital bed at the Ministry of Magic. They’re treating my injuries and I find out I’m not the only one who has been captured. Nearly a hundred of the young witches and wizards who’d been fighting against our world’s greatest evil had been rounded up like cattle after our brutal loss. There are more girls than boys and as they prep us - cleaning and sterilizing us - it becomes clear what they, the Death Eaters, have planned.

An auction.

The fucking idiot who captured me, Gregory Goyle Jr., really believes he’s going to get some decent money for me. It’s true, I’m a virgin, a supposed extremely valued quality, but that’s where the similarities between me and the rest of the “Lots” end. I’m a good 5-6 years older than all of the girls. I’ve got bright pink hair, and on bad days, I’m convinced I’m actually a whale pretending to be a young woman. Plus I’m not even British or very pretty. 

Sure, statistically, I know someone out there has to like what I look like. But when I’m being compared to the others, the idea of being the preferred one is laughable.

My predictions come true when no one bids on me. I’m the first female lot and the grand theater they’ve commandeered from the No-Majes is silent, despite Ludo Bagman’s best salesmanship effort. No one wants an ostentatious American cow. I guess the lure of my novelty and virginity isn’t a strong selling point. 

Granted, the literal blood on my hands from killing a guard backstage probably doesn’t help either. 

Bagman tries to lower my base price of five grand - the minimum for virgins - but Goyle isn’t having it. He takes it upon himself to demonstrate my worth, starting with hopping on stage. He pushes me to my knees while he stands before me. As he fumbles with his belt and jeers with the crowd, I quickly put two and two together to realize what’s about to happen.

In front of everyone, he’s going to humiliate me.

But I humiliate him first.

In front of everyone.

He’s gotten what he wanted - my head in his crotch, just not the way he intended. 

Before I can figure out what to do next, guards grab my arms and yank me to my feet to take me backstage. I expect some kind of blowback for what I did, but it doesn’t come.

When Goyle finally appears, he demands to know why I was taken off stage before I’d been sold. Yaxley, the Death Eater in charge, only points out the obvious. No one made a bid. Therefore, they aren’t going to waste time on me.

Eventually Yaxley gives in to Doyle’s annoying pleas, and agrees to let me go back out, on the condition my price be reduced by half. I was also supposed to wait until the very end. 

I listen as all the other girls get sold, their galleon numbers in the thousands. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley’s are in the tens of thousands. I try not to think about it too much, because I know my worth as a person isn’t tied to physical money, but it still gets to me. I’ve basically been put on clearance.  All I can do is sit and spiral into self loathing while I wait until the end. 

When it’s finally my turn again, they bring me out to the half-filled, steadily emptying theater. The main event is over so no one’s really even listening to Bagman’s sales pitch.

And again, no one makes a bid. 

By this point, my self worth is on the floor in the orchestra pit.

I can tell Goyle is scrambling for what to do with me. His get rich quick scheme hasn’t worked and I’ve become a burden. He binds my wrists together in front of me and guides me to the opulent lobby. He’s muttering curses and threats while we wait in line for the floo. I find him pretty easy to tune out since it’s obvious he’s still a teenager and there’s no way he’s an actual threat to me. Especially once this damn magic suppression potion wears off. I’m relieved to not have been bought by anyone else. Maybe I’ll be able to find a way to escape. 

My eyes catch on a group of Death Eaters huddling by the main door. Some of the metallic masks are clearly meant to be scary, but they’re so elaborate they look more silly than threatening. The ones that really unnerve me are the simple, expressionless ones. With magic, the empty eye and mouth holes are pitch black and bottomless. 

My focus centers on one such mask. In that group he stands taller than all the rest. His black robes look militaristic right down to the calf-high boots on his feet. His companions have their heads huddled near and their indistinct whispers add to the solemn hum to the room. This Death Eater appears to be half- listening to this conversation, his mask partially turned towards the window. 

Goyle steals my attention when he pulls me forward, his foul breath close to my ear. “I ‘spose I’m the one that gets to break you in, don’t I?”

I silently huff as he keeps rattling on. My eyes go back to that tall Death Eater and I freeze.

He’s looking right at me. Like, I can see the entirety of his mask as he stares over his companion’s head.

I blink and look around me, checking to make sure it’s me, and not someone else he’s staring at. But when I peek back, he’s not even looking at me anymore. 

We’re two people away from our turn for the Floo when the masked Death Eaters all cut in line. I happen to glance back at where they’d been meeting and my heart skips a beat when that same Death Eater is still standing there, all by himself. 

Still looking right at me.

I pretend I didn’t just look back and make direct eye-to-empty socket contact with him and step towards the fire before Goyle does when it’s our turn next. It’s just the three of us in the lobby at this point.

Goyle reaches his hand into the Floo powder pot on a pedestal next to the fireplace just as a gloved hand comes down heavy on his shoulder.

And then he’s suddenly there. God, standing next to him, he feels so much taller than me, and I’m not short at 5’8”. 

“What do you want?” Goyle grumbles, seeming annoyed that this guy is bothering him. He hasn’t said a word and yet Goyle clearly knows who he is.

The masked man slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of what sounds like coins and tosses it to Goyle. The boy fumbles it and it falls to the floor. While he’s picking it up, the Death Eater places a heavy hand on my own shoulder and maneuvers me so he’s standing between me and Goyle.

Maybe Goyle’s not a complete idiot because he understands what the man wants before I do.

He glares up at him. “You can’t be serious. Like, this has to be a joke. There’s no more than 50 galleons in here.”

… Fifty galleons? I immediately want to cry, so I take a sudden sharp breath, but the exhale is noticeably shakey. I keep going until I’m not on the verge of a freak out.

The man just stays silent, staring at him. 

Goyle looks between me and him briefly before deciding a plan of action. “Alright, we’ll find a room. Fifty’s enough for a blowie I think -”

The man shoves Goyle backward and he almost falls into the fire. I guess that’s his answer.

He turns me to face him and produces some rope with a loop on one end. He hangs the rope around my neck, pulling the long end through the loop, and I feel it tighten against my throat immediately. The harder he pulls, the tighter it is. 

Shady transaction over, the man turns for the door, leash in hand, and I’m forced to follow him or get strangled. Goyle starts to protest, but one look from the Death Eater over his shoulder shuts him up real quick.

~*~

My new owner leads me out into the night. We’re somewhere in London, and it’s so late the streets are empty. Which is good, because the last thing I want is a continuing audience to this nightmare. 

The asshole has longer legs than me and that means he’s taking strides I could never dream of matching. My thighs have always been monstrously thick and the friction always slows me down, especially right now when I don’t even have any underwear on. The rope around my neck is coarse, it’s fibers scratching my skin raw as we walk. I keep my hands clutched to my chest, a couple fingers shoved between my neck and the rope. When he finally stops, he grabs my forearm and pulls my fingers out for Apparating. 

We pop into a dark, overgrown yard. The man is quick to yank on the leash, pulling me behind him. He’s released my arm, so my fingers immediately go back to protecting me. He uses his wand to illuminate our surroundings and I can make out that this cottage we’ve arrived at is abandoned. Holes have been blasted through the walls and the thatched roof is rotting away, chunks of it already fallen. He leads me around to the back and shoves open a crooked door with his shoulder. 

I’d hoped that the exterior would just be a cover, a ruse for an actually decent place, but no, it’s just as derelict on the inside. He makes sure I’m inside the dusty kitchen before he magically shoves the door closed. The light from his wand reveals a particularly clean section of the tiled floor. If it weren’t for all of the dust and debris surrounding it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. He crouches, tapping his wand against several of the tiny tiles. They immediately fall away, creating the walls and steps for a hidden entrance below our feet.

I’m dying to know what lies ahead, but I’m also fucking terrified. Is he gonna keep me in a fucking dungeon?

After we begin our descent, the floor above us closes. We take the steps spiraling down at least two flights and at the bottom reveals another door. This one is heavy and wooden with a few serious looking locks. 

The final room we enter is what I’d call a studio apartment. A rather large, imposing bed on one end of the room, with a bathtub in the opposite corner and a little kitchen in a carved out nook. There’s a wardrobe, an armchair sat next to a small table, and a doorway where I can see a toilet. It’s lit with sconces on the walls, burning bright candle light. 

But the most eye-catching thing? The night sky above our heads. The ceiling is taller than normal for a basement. Which, in combination with the enchanted ceiling, makes the room feel twice the size that it is. Though I suppose that’s by design. 

After I enter the room fully, he closes the door behind me, and I hear the lock click. He turns me back to him and takes off the rope, tucking it away into his pocket. He seems to consider taking off the rest of my bindings before deciding to remove them.

I’m not sure what I expected him to do, now that he’s gotten me here, but just sitting in that armchair staring at me, wasn’t really on my list. His posture is relaxed, his wand loosely gripped in his hand. And he’s just staring at me, again.

All the nerves that have been building since the moment I laid eyes on him are almost at their breaking point. I can hardly bear to look at him, so my eyes stray to anything else, but I’m not really seeing.

“Strip,” he says, and my eyes snap to him. His voice is so deep, a perfect baritone. 

But surely, I couldn’t have heard him right.

His creepy, masked head tilts a smidge. “Strip,” he orders again, enunciating a little more forcefully when I don’t move. 

My eyebrows are together and my pulse is thudding in my ears, but I somehow find my voice. “No,” I say softly, my arms tucking into my torso. 

There’s an uncomfortable long silence as we stare at each other. I don’t move and he fiddles with his wand. Then he sighs heavily and stands to his full height. I can just barely see over his shoulder.

“This will be your only warning,” he says. “I do not reward good behavior. If you are disobedient and misbehave, you will be punished. Severely.” His cold, emotionless tone only amplifies the authority to his words. He doesn’t continue, leaving it up to me to decide my fate. 

Tears start to brim my eyes and I cannot imagine, after the day I’ve had, actually showing him my naked body. I’d genuinely rather face whatever punishment he has in store than that. 

Instead of words, I just shake my head, my feet automatically moving me away from him. 

“Very well,” he simply says, and raises his wand at me. “Crucio.”

The moment the spell hits me, I collapse to the floor, helpless to the pain striking every square inch of my body. I’ve been Crucio’d before, but every time there’s absolutely nothing to prepare you for it. By the time it’s over, I’ve curled up into a ball, barely managing not to sob. 

The Death Eater kneels, hovering over me, getting so close that his mask fills my view and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No matter how benign your crimes, that will be your punishment,” he says. “Every. Time.” His hand suddenly grabs my jaw, turning my head to face him. “Do you understand?” 

Staring into his black, empty gaze, I nod. 

But that must not be enough for him because he rolls my head back and forth. “Use your words.”

To force them out, I have to swallow, and I know he can feel it. My voice is only a whisper, but the words are clear. “Yes, I understand.”

He stands, literally towering above me. Then his face starts to get closer and I realize it’s because I’m the one moving. Fully airborne, he maneuvers me into the bathtub, and the faucet immediately starts running. 

The water’s freezing at first and I gasp. Luckily, the cold clears my mind, numbing my emotions, and bringing in enough rational thought to slide off the mary jane shoes they supplied us with. I keep the white dress on. After all, they didn’t give us anything to wear underneath it. 

The water slowly starts to rise and warm, and instead of clutching my chest, my hands drift in the water. There’s so much blood on my hands the water has already turned pink. Because I’d… killed somebody. 

In one short week, I’ve been stabbed, tortured, kidnapped, half-sterilized, and my magic stripped away. And now, I’ve killed somebody. 

Oh, and I’m the property of a literal Death Eater. 

And, worst of all, he's fucking hot.

The absolute absurdity of that last thought has me laughing, like actual manic giggling. My life is over and I’m laughing like a fucking psycho. 

Thankfully, my emotions catch up with me and that laugh turns into full sobs. 

And that fucking Death Eater watches me the entire time.