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colorsunimaginable · 3 months

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the spare // chapter sixty-seven // 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: 8k warnings for this chapter: drinking, a wee bit of p in v

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune

Chapter Sixty-Seven:

It’s the day after Christmas and I spend it overthinking, worried about this ‘gathering’ at Cliveden. To distract myself, I fiddle around with the new camera Thomus bought me.

And I might have taken a few… dozen pictures of him.

Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but regardless I now have images of him sitting at the kitchen table with a book, typing away at his desk on the typewriter, and even one I convinced him to take with me in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

“I think I’m… nervous,” I say as we’re getting ready to leave.

Thomus finishes adjusting the collar of his cloak around the collar of his sweater and gives me a curious look. “You likely have more in common with them than I do.”

I shift on my feet, clutching the Tupperware full of cookies tighter. “I highly doubt that. Ever since you told me about this party, all I can think about is the time you spanked me in front of them.” A satisfied smile spreads across his face as he chuckles and pulls a forest green knit scarf from beneath his cloak. “Are we all just supposed to pretend like that never happened?” He steps closer and loops the scarf around my neck, eyes focused on the task. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course.” His eyes snap up to mine as he flips one end of the scarf over my shoulder and the other down my front. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I release a strained groan and fidget with my Ilvermorny Christmas sweater, pulling the hem further down around my hips. “Let’s just go.”

We Apparate straight there and I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what to expect. The few parties Jacob Astor has hosted that I’ve witnessed have varied wildly. From a super serious Death Eater meeting about human trafficking to dancing with Thomus while high on a lust potion - you never really know. Not to mention, the usual crowd has been an unfortunate audience to my most embarrassing moments in the last six months.

I shudder out of my thoughts while we trek to the large hosting room. The smell hits me first, cinnamon and oranges, and then I register the song playing gently from the corner of the room, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas . An Elf snaps away our outerwear as we approach the open doors.

The room is absolutely decked out . Floating candles light the room, hovering just under the high ceiling. Fake snow drifts down from a dim grey sky, fresh holly on every sconce. In the center of the room against the windows is a massive tree, covered in tinsel and twinkling lights. The grand fireplace is crackling with a delicious smelling fire. We walk closer to the tree, where people are gathered around on couches and chairs, and I can make out what lights the top of the tree... A bright, glowing Deathly Hallows mark.

Well, that’s fucking weird.

I don’t have time to think on it further before Jacob Astor is standing before us. He looks as dashing as ever and not so surprised that I’m not currently blind. He smiles at both Thomus and me, and I wish I could tell if he’s being sincere.

“Glad you guys could make it,” Jake says cheerfully as he shakes Thomus’ hand, but he’s looking at me.

Thomus smiles in return, looking more relaxed than he usually does when we’re out. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

As they exchange a few more pleasantries, my eyes wander beyond Jake, trying to see if there’s any familiar faces. I clock Kyle sitting near Will when Jake says something that recaptures my attention. “I see you had your very own Christmas miracle.”

Thomus’ arm slides around my waist. “Yes, I had some very good luck.”

I don’t miss the double meaning to his words. I wanna remark about how his good luck was really my hard work, but I bite my tongue and force a shy smile as Jake turns to shake my hand as well.

Jake gestures to a food and drinks table set up along a wall. “Help yourselves. I think Will’s trying to start up some drinking games here in a minute.”

I start walking toward the table before Thomus, mostly because I’m eager to exchange this box of cookies for something with alcohol in it. Towards the desert section, I glance back over my shoulder to make sure no one but Thomus is watching me slide trays aside, making enough room for my offering.

Finally with free hands, I scooch next to Thomus standing by the drinks.

“Can I pour you anything?” he asks me.

My eyes scan the bottles, then point to the one I want. “Yeah, can I get orange juice with Malibu?”

He reaches for the white bottle I pointed to and pours a double into the iced glass he’s holding. “Coconut rum?” he questions as he’s reaching for the pitcher of orange liquid.

“It’s my go-to,” I say as I grab a coffee straw, taking the glass and stirring it once it’s full. I take a sip and it’s just right. He’s busy pouring his own glass of whiskey, but I offer him the straw anyway. “Wanna try?”

I briefly pull his eyes away from pouring as he leans down to wrap his lips around the straw. There’s just something about seeing his jaw flex like that that has me pinching myself.

“Well, it’s certainly a combination of flavors,” he says after swallowing.

I snort and forget what I’m about to say when I feel an arm brush my other shoulder. When I see who it is, I relax. “Oh, hi.”

Will’s eyes immediately find the box that doesn’t match the rest of the dishes and nabs one of the bright red cookies. “Oh, hi,” he teases after he takes a bite. His face is sans beard and rocking a stache now. “You guys ready to get trashed?”

“What’re we playing?” I ask, taking a few big pulls of my drink.

“Anything,” Will answers immediately. He pulls out his wand and summons a tray pre-loaded with tiny cauldrons just big enough for shots. A bottle of firewhiskey floats from the collection before us and starts filling the cauldrons. “Got nothin’ but a good time on the agenda.”

“Can we play Thunderstruck?” I ask.

Will beams. “Fuck yeah we can play Thunderstruck.”

As Thomus and I follow Will back to where everyone else is gathered, Thomus leans in. “Should I know what that is?”

I can’t help but smile. “Oh, you’ll find out.”

There’s an empty loveseat Thomus pulls me onto. He tucks his arm around my waist again as he settles back, practically tucking me into his side.

As Will passes out the shot cauldrons, I can finally sneak a peek at who’s actually here. Kyle and Will - and obviously Jake. That Roosevelt guy is here, too, but I forget his first name. There’s a pretty blond woman talking to Jake that I don’t recognize and… oh, that’s it. Small group, I see. Which I will admit I’m glad for.

I take the first shot that Will offers me and I down it immediately before putting it back and grabbing another one. I haven’t really eaten much today, so the alcohol hits my stomach like a warm blast.

“Alright, I wanna make a toast,” Jake announces, standing with his shot held out towards the blond next to him. “Firstly, to my sister, Diana, for the last minute decorating.”

“Well, you obviously weren’t going to do it,” Diana says with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he says. “And then to all of you - for making this past year as successful as it has been.”

For one blissful moment I had allowed myself to forget why I was here, why they’ve had such a successful year. It takes .2 seconds for the anxious pit in my chest to grow twice its size. I’m the first one to finish my shot and then sip heavily on my cocktail to wash the taste down.

“Alright, the first game we’re playing is Thunderstruck, so everyone top off their drinks,” Will says, heading over to where the Christmas music’s playing from.

Since mine is already more than halfway gone, I shoot to my feet to fill it back up. I’m not the first one to the drinks table because Kyle is there ladeling in some kind of fizzing purple punch.

“Want one?” Kyle asks as I glance over my shoulder at Thomus, who briefly looked at me before turning to greet Diana.

“Yes, please,” I reply. “Two actually.”

“This your doing or his?” he asks, his voice low. By this he doesn’t even have to clarify - I just know.

I look up at him and shrug with one shoulder. “Mine.”

“Hmph,” he grunts unhappily. He finishes filling the first glass and then starts the second.

“What, don’t believe me?” I ask, taking a sip of the punch. Elderberry and something that tastes like Aloe juice.

“I believe you,” he says quickly. “Now it’s just my turn to hold up my end of the bargain.”

I sigh heavily. “You haven’t figured out how to get me away from Thomus yet, have you?”

“Well, I have a few ideas, but I don’t think you’re going to like them.”

“Such as?”

Before he can answer, we get called back to the group to start the song. I’m supposed to hide the fact that I have my magic, so with both hands I carefully cradle my half drink plus the two new ones back to the loveseat. Thomus is still chatting with Diana, a conversation I’ve completely tuned out, so I just slide our drinks onto the coffee table in front of us.

“Melisa, can you explain the rules?” Will asks.

I’m a bit taken aback by the use of my whole first name - especially being pronounced correctly - instead of my last. Everyone’s eyes are on me now, so I take a deep breath before spilling the details. “Okay so, we go in a circle and every time the song says ‘thunder’, one person drinks until they say ‘thunder’ again, and then the next person starts and so on and so forth, does that make sense?”

“I’ll start!” Will says before pressing play and jogging over. He comes to sit on the armrest of our loveseat.

The first few thunders come in quick succession, so once Will goes, I go, and then Thomus. The thunders go around the circle a few times before the first long stretch lands on Thomus, who has to finish his whiskey, and with some encouragement, grabs the punch I push towards him. With the circle being small, by the time the song’s over, everyone has finished their drinks.

“Now that we’ve all settled in,” Will jokes, “the next game we’re playing is called Captain.” He sets the music back to Christmas music and turns the volume down to a background level. “Usually, it’s played with a pirate's hat or a sailors hat, but since it’s Christmas - “ he waves his wand and a Santa hat appears on Diana’s head, much to her delight “ - this is what we’ve got. Does everyone know how to play?”

I shake my head, noticing the alcohol has started to loosen my limbs. I’d finished my cocktail during the game and have started on the punch - which I swear keeps refilling itself.

Diana rubs her hands together conspiratorially and leans forward over Thomus to explain. “Whoever has the hat gets to pick someone to do a dare. If they do the dare, then we all take a shot and they get the hat, but if they don’t then they’re out of the game. Last person in the game wins.”

I smile at her. “Please don’t pick me first.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry, I got my eyes on someone else.” She jerks her chin towards Jake, who immediately dons this ‘oh shit’ face. She leans back, crossing her arms with a shit eating grin.

“Why’s it called Captain?” I ask. “Just because of the hat?”

“Whenever someone gets the hat, we’re supposed to say ‘Aye, Aye Captain’,” Thomus explains for me, his face leaning in close.

I immediately giggle. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?”

He runs his hand down my thigh and tilts his head in confusion. “What?”

I shift in my seat, getting closer to him so our thighs touch. “Nevermind.”

“Aye, aye Captain!” Roosevelt and Will shout.

Diana taps her chin like she’s still considering. “Hmm, dear brother, what shall I make you do?” Then she grins. “I dare you to take your socks off with your teeth and wear them tucked into your collar for the rest of the game.”

My head quickly swivels to where Jake is sitting to get his reaction and he does not disappoint. His face scrunches up in disgust as he slouches in his seat, already toeing off his nice shoes.

“Hopefully those aren’t the ones you were wearing yesterday,” Will laughs. “Or are they?”

“Shut your trap, Hoffman,” Jake grumbles.

We all wait with baited breath as he grabs his calf to pull his foot closer to his face. He quickly traps the sock between his bared teeth and pulls. It slips off and he does the same to the other one before tucking them both into his collar.

He grins triumphantly and quickly summons house slippers for his bare feet. “Ha!” he says. “Drink up, assholes.”

We all take our drinks as the Santa hat gets transferred to Jake.

“Aye, Aye Captain!” we all shout.

His eyes jump from person to person, and he’s quick to settle on Kyle, who clearly isn’t paying attention.

Kyle’s sole focus is on Thomus, blatantly staring at him with something akin to determination and consideration.

The look quickly disperses as my stare gives Jake’s intention away and Kyle’s expression neutralizes.

“Kyle,” Jake says. “I dare you to serenade the person to your right.”

Kyle sighs dramatically, rubbing his hand down his face. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

Nevertheless, he swiftly gets down on his knees in front of Diana, a hand clutched over his heart. As he’s clearly about to break out in song, I briefly wonder if he’ll have a decent singing voice, and I find out soon enough as he belts out the easily recognizable first notes to All I Want for Christmas is You . His voice is off-pitch and scratchy, and I genuinely can’t tell if he’s being bad on purpose or not. Everyone starts laughing and I can’t help but join in.

When he gets to the end of the first verse, he takes Diana’s hand and gives the back of it an exaggerated kiss. We give him a round of applause as he takes his seat. Jake gives Kyle the hat while we take our drink for the round.

It doesn’t surprise me that Kyle chooses Thomus, I only worry what he’ll make him do. He’s looking around, trying to come up with an idea until his eyes land on Thomus’ drink in his hand.

“Malfoy, I triple doxy dare you to… finish yours and Alder’s drinks in one go.”

Thomus scoffs. “And here I thought you were going to pick something difficult.” He quickly finishes the rest of his punch in a few gulps before trading glasses with me. “Tada,” he proudly announces after easily downing the rest of mine, then he stands holding our four empty glasses by the rim in one hand. “Drink up.”

As Thomus goes across the room to refill our punch, Kyle leans forward, staring at me intently.

“We need to get him drunk,” he hisses low.

I blink at him in surprise, then jump my gaze first to Thomus’ back and then to the rest of the group. No one seems as surprised as I am. Even Roosevelt, who I overheard someone refer to him as Eric, doesn’t bat an eye. Is everyone in on this plot?

“That’s your plan?” Will asks incredulously.

“It’s the start of one,” Kyle answers. “Get him so drunk he passes out and she can just… leave.”

“Just leave ?” I ask. I look to the windows, searching for that shimmer from the magical barrier from before. “What about -”

“The tattoo doesn’t work here,” Jake quickly adds. “And there aren't any additional wards to trap you here.”

Everyone is looking at me, waiting for my response. My heart has leapt to my throat to block any logistical questions I have before Thomus swoops back into his seat.

“What’s that look for?” Thomus asks me. I quickly snatch the glass he hands me to swallow my thrumming heart back into my chest.

Diana jumps in for my rescue. “I was just telling her about my ex.”

“Oh Merlin,” Thomus groans, slumping back against the loveseat. “It’s not a story about me, is it?”

What? Jesus fuck, these people keep smacking bludgers at me one after another.

I try not to react outwardly to the news that Diana and Thomus used to date, even if this news is just as jarring as the imminent plan for my escape from him. I focus on her, really taking in what she looks like. Extremely tall and willowy with big round hazel eyes and a cupid’s bow mouth. Jealousy flares up inside because I can’t help but compare us. Her thighs combined are the size of just one of mine.

She flips her long dirty blond hair over her shoulder and crosses her legs, perching an elbow on the armrest of her chair. “No, but I ought to, shouldn’t I?”

“Definitely not,” Thomus says, quickly sitting forward with a hand outstretched towards Kyle. “Pass me the hat.” He settles the white faux fur rim of the Santa hat over his dark curls.

“Aye aye, Captain!” they all shout. I’m too anxious and fixate my eyes on my drink, still fizzing on the coffee table in front of me. My mind is racing with all that could potentially happen. Where would I go? How long could I hide? Could I be summoned back because of the tattoo? If the idea is to get me close to Voldemort, wouldn’t fleeing just put a target on my back? I wonder if I’d be able to get a message to Hermione about -

Thomus’ hand brushes down my arm. “Melisa?”

My eyes snap to his, focused on me, and I swallow around nothing. “Yeah? Sorry.”

He gives me a sly smile. “It’s your turn.”

“Alright,” I sigh, making a face. “Lay it on me.”

He takes a deep breath and I expect it to be something genuinely challenging, but in all honesty it’s a bit underwhelming. “I dare you to sing the alphabet… backwards.”

I snort. “Jokes on you because I was taught that in the second grade.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Looking at him, I feel less nervous about making a fool of myself in front of everyone else. So I start to sing, keeping my eyes on him or on his person, because after a few moments the prolonged eye contact makes my face heat.

Even after I’m finished with the letters, I keep going with the end of the song. “ Now we know our ZYXs’, next time we will go to Texas. ”

Will laughs. “Why the fuck are we going to Texas?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Ask Mr. Morley.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My elementary school music teacher,” I reply smoothly. “Now drink the fuck up.”

Jake is the first to finish his drink, so he stands to get a refill. “We should play something else. All our dares suck, no ones gotten out yet.”

“I’ve got a good one,” I say quickly. I’d taken a drink, too, because why not? Who wants to make hard decisions sober?

I pluck the Santa hat off Thomus’ head and slip it over mine. “You ready, Will?”

Will squares his shoulders, facing me dead on, expression serious. “Born ready.”

“I dare you to recite a poem - any poem, but you -” I start to blow a raspberry with my tongue in between every word “- have to talk like this.”

Will snickers. “You got that from Spongebob.”

“So what if I did? You still gotta do it,” I smile. “And I don’t think I heard my ‘aye aye, Captain’.”

Jake and Kyle are the only ones who don’t say it. Kyle is lost in his thoughts if his dead eye stare at his drink is evidence enough, and Jake is too far away at the food and drinks table to care.

It’s hard to keep the grin off my face as Will complies with my dare. “ Mosquito lands on my cheek. I try to slap her, but I just slap me. ” He finishes by standing with a bow.

“That’s it?” Diana protests. “It was so short.”

“It’s a haiku,” Thomus explains. “A type of Japanese poem.”

“Oh, yeah that’s right,” she says. “Do you still work for the Daily Prophet? Or has that taken a backseat for… other things?”

“A bit of both, really,” he sighs. “The Dark Lord hasn’t required much of me lately, so I’ve been helping Barnabas Cuffe with editing. In addition to helping my sister-in-law with the New Year’s Eve Gala she’s hosting.”

“Speaking of,” Jake says, rejoining the group, “why weren’t we invited?” It’s obvious he’s not really offended, just genuinely curious.

Thomus sighs and speaks with a hint of resentment. “Only the Sacred Twenty-Eight and whoever’s crawled up through the Dark Lord’s ranks, I’m afraid. Not even the Lots are allowed to be present.”

“Well, if you’re free, Melisa,” Diana says, speaking to me. “You’re welcome to come to a New Years Eve party here. It would just be us and a few of my girlfriends from Oxford.”

I’m genuinely shocked and flattered that this goddess is inviting me to a party, but I know that this has to be a backup plan for escape if tonight doesn’t go as Kyle wants it. I don’t even get a chance to respond because Thomus puts a possessive hand on my leg, wedging his long fingers into the tight space between my thighs.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Thomus says, speaking for me with a tone of finality, and doesn’t even bother to explain why.

She peers at us curiously for a moment before realization dawns. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”

The tray with all our mini shot cauldrons fill back up as Thomus just gives a silent nod of acknowledgement.

We play another couple rounds of Captain before all the drinks finally start to do their job and loosen everyone up. I know I’m starting to feel it, especially when I stand to go find a bathroom.

Thomus insists on accompanying me, especially when I steer towards the bathroom down by the kitchens. He takes me back out to the lobby, showing me where the bathrooms are there. Secretly, I’m glad, because I don’t think I’d be able to make it up and down all those stairs without tripping at least once. I don’t think Thomus would either, based on how many times he bumps into me.

He even follows me into the women’s bathroom, insisting that it doesn’t matter since we’re the only ones in there.

“I didn’t realize how clingy you were,” I tease, saddling my way into one of the stalls to do my business.

He slides into the one next to me. “Oh, poppycock. I’m just being a gentleman and making sure you don’t fall in.”

My laugh is sharp and loud in the echoey bathroom. “That actually happened to me when I was in preschool. The seat wasn’t down so my butt got all wet and I just sat there waiting to be rescued by a teacher.”

I hear his warm chuckle. “How old were you?”

“Four,” I say as I finish and leave the stall to wash my hands. He joins me a moment later, still chuckling to himself. “What?”

He shakes his head absently. “Nothing, you’re just… adorable.”

I snort as I reach for a paper towel. “Right.”

He dries his hands too and quickly reaches for me as I try to pass him to the door. He leans back against the counter, a hand on my hip and one on my cheek, pulling me towards him. I don’t resist and lean into him, our lips quickly meeting. My arms snake around his waist, wanting a hug at the same time, because it strikes me that if I leave tonight… this could be it.

I still have a million doubts and questions that need answered, but right now… right now he wants me and I need to bask in it for as long as I can, while I still have the chance.

I deepen the kiss and I boldly slip one of my hands to the front of his jeans. He’s already semi-hard, but at my touch, he groans and bites my lip.

“You want to do this here?” he asks, his voice husky.

I nod, my other hand coming around to undo his pants and slip my hand inside. “I want you so bad.”

He drags kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “It’ll have to be quick.”

“And hard,” I breathe, practically panting with want already.

Determination in his movements now, he flips us around until my fupa is pressed against the sink counter and he’s grinding against my ass. He moves my hair away from my neck, sensually kissing the soft spot below my ear. Over my sweater his hands slowly grope down from my chest, then my stomach and the fleshy “handles”, as he’s called them before, where my fupa meets my hips.

I push my ass back against him. “I thought you said we had to be quick.”

He bites my neck, wringing a moan from me. “Patience,” he warns.

One hand lets go of my handle and slips underneath to firmly cup the junction between my legs. I sigh heavily and whine, rocking my hips, increasing the pressure on my clit.

“Fuck,” he groans out. Finally he hooks his fingers into my waistband and yanks my pants and undies down to my knees. I push my ass out towards him when he takes a step back to pull his cock out. He moans when his tip pushes through my lips, feeling how wet I am. Then he doesn’t waste a second longer and slides home.

I cry out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep it muffled. I plant my hands on the smooth cold counter and immediately start rocking back and forth, desperately impatient. With a hand on the center of my back, he pushes me forward while snapping his hips to my ass, seamlessly sliding into the pace I’d set. Quick staccato slapping echoes around the room as he thrusts hard and deep. My eyes roll back into my head, hardly aware of the noises I’m making because I’m too busy losing my mind to the pleasure.

He slows all too soon, pulling me back up to attach his mouth to my neck again. My back bends to accommodate him, and while still keeping him buried to the hilt, my chest juts out. He takes advantage of the position and pushes my sweater up until his fingers find the band of my bra and he pushes that up too. My heavy breasts fall into his hands and he groans, pinching my nipples, and fucking into me with slow, but hard thrusts.

My eyes flutter open briefly, a sudden urge to see. He’s fucked me in front of a mirror before, but he hasn’t done it since I’ve gotten my sight back. Admittedly, I have a bit of an out of body experience, looking at what’s happening instead of feeling it. I hate what I look like, of course. Sometimes in my head I look different than I really do and seeing myself in the mirror can be pretty jarring.

But then I look at Thomus’ face. He’s so… wrapped up in me, hands full, mind clearly numb with ecstasy.

I close my eyes again, grimacing, swallowing down the sudden onslaught of longing and loss. It’s probably all the alcohol, but tears fill my vision because I just can’t bear losing this. I quickly blink them away, avoiding looking in the mirror again.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I start pushing back against him again, urging him to pick up the pace.

He obliges me for a few moments until he slows to a stop. He’s still panting and holding me against him before he sighs heavily.

“Darling, you feel amazing, but I don’t think I can finish,” he murmurs hesitantly, sounding regretful.

I nod, sniffling. “It’s okay, we can stop.”

He pulls out and I swiftly right myself, pants back over my hips, bra holding what it should, sweater in the right place. It’s only then that I look in the mirror again. Luckily he didn’t bite me too hard, so there’s no hickey to cover up. I just wet my fingers and run them through my hair before flipping it back over. Leaning close to the mirror, I check that my makeup is still good.

“Were you crying?” he asks point blank, staring at me in the mirror.

“No,” I lie, but I feel a river about to gush out of my nose, so I quickly snag a paper towel and blow into it. “I just had to sneeze real bad and didn’t wanna ruin the moment.”

Fully dressed again, he slides a hand down my butt, gripping it appreciatively. “I’d be happy to help you finish,” he suggests.

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile on my face. I rock up onto the balls of my feet to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Still scratched that itch and felt amazing.”

He takes my hand, pulling me to the door. “Then let’s get back. Hopefully they won’t give us too much grief for taking so long.” He smirks down at me and winks. Actually winks . It's such a quick thing, but it makes my heart contract in my chest with the need to be wrapped up in him again.

God I’m so fucked.

~*~

As predicted, when we return Will and Jake are quick to wolf whistle. They’re over by the music and Thomus joins them while I sink into his seat next to Diana. My face has got to be as red as my sweater, but Diana doesn’t comment on it. She just hands me a full shot cauldron with an understanding look. Grateful, I take the shot. Getting dicked down sobered me a bit more than I wanted.

Eric is busy scribbling away in a little notebook and next to him is Kyle and his stupid judgmental face.

I ignore him and focus on Diana. “So what did you study at Oxford?”

“I studied Art History,” she says, “but I didn’t get, like, a degree or anything. I just wanted to know a little more about the art I was seeing in the museums here.”

“That’s one thing I haven’t done since I’ve gotten to England,” I say. “I used to love going to museums.”

She tilts her head, looking curious. “Were you meant to stay long?”

I shrug. “I had an internship at the Daily Prophet, which I’d been hoping would lead to a full time position at some point.”

“Oh, so you worked with Thomus then?” she asks. “You knew him… before.”

“No, actually,” I say, reaching over for my punch. “I… He wasn’t around all that much while I was there.”

“What gives with the Deathly Hallows mark on the tree?” Kyle asks out of the blue. “You know it’s just a story, right?”

Diana, who’s clearly much more sober than Kyle is right now, looks at him without mirth. “It’s very real.”

I nod along, knowing all too well the truth behind the Deathly Hallows.

“Grindelwald murdered a lot of our family with the Elder Wand,” Diana continues. “Not to mention, I’ve seen invisibility cloaks with my own eyes.” She grimaces. “And yes, I know what I just said is an oxymoron.”

With another pull of my drink, I feel gutsy enough to ask something that’s been on my mind for a while. I lean closer to her and lower my voice. “So… has your brother… always been… “ I sigh. I feel silly saying ‘on our side’, but how else can I put it? “I don't know, I guess I'm asking about allegiances.”

Kyle gives me an ‘are you serious’ look. “Of course he’s been in on it,” he says, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“The entire time?” I ask skeptically, distinctly remembering how not nice he was when we met the night Montague got beat the fuck up by Thomus.

“He’s playing the long game,” Diana explains. “Jake’s very good at wasting The Great Order’s time.”

Her eyes are on the three men in the corner and I turn to look just as the three of them take a shot. “Does Thomus know?” I ask, my voice low.

“Thomus is under the impression that Jake just has reservations about certain things,” she says.

“Participating without actually participating,” I surmise.

She nods. “Exactly.” Her gaze is drawn to Eric, and she stares at him for a moment before she asks, “What happened to your hand, Eric?”

Eric looks up, seeming to have forgotten where he was. He looks around and finds the three of us looking at him. Then the question seems to sink in and he looks down at his hand. Bandages wrap around his palm and twist up his two middle fingers.

“Oh, I uh, had a bit of an accident a few days ago,” he says. “Working on the…“ He eyes me for a second before looking back at Diana. “On the thing.”

“You don’t have to speak in code,” Kyle says to him. “She can handle a few more secrets.”

I nod in agreement, though really it has nothing to do with how good I am at keeping secrets. I’m just too nosey for my own good.

“Right, sure, yeah,” Eric says. He looks down at his notebook. “I’m having a bit of a timing issue. I think I’ve got the explosive strong enough, but it seems the stronger it gets, the less time I have before it goes off.”

I quickly glance back at Thomus, catching him downing another shot, before turning back and whispering, “You’re building a bomb?”

He nods. “Something powerful enough to break through Anti-Apparition wards.”

My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”

The corners of his mouth turn up in an amused grin. “I’m definitely trying to make it one.”

“Do you have the recipe?” I ask, a bit eager. “I’ve had a similar issue with magical film developer. I might be able to help.”

“Yeah, here.” He flips through a couple pages until he lands on a spread that’s definitely got more use than the rest, then passes it to me.

As I scan the page, I see that a few of the core ingredients are the same, just how they’re incorporated is slightly different. The measurements are also scaled down for testing purposes.

“If this were to scale, how much willow root would you add?” I ask.

“The entire root, but I chop it up.”

“If you grind it down into a powder and then weigh it, it’s easier to be more precise with the amount you add,” I explain, not looking up from the page. “And you’re not adding nearly enough bursting mushroom powder.”

When I look up, Eric’s head is tilted, his eyes unfocused, his mind clearly running away from him with this new information. “Interesting,” he says.

“Magical film developing potion always implodes on itself. It’s just a fact. But I’ve made it so much that I can time it down to the second it’ll implode,” I explain. “Would you… want me to write the recipe down for you? Then you can compare.”

He blinks back into focus, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please do. Here.” He passes me his pen and I quickly jot down my recipe on the next available page in his book.

By the time I’m done, the music gets turned up, and the three in the corner start making their way over to us. I toss down the rest of my drink before reaching for Thomus’, but Kyle stops me.

“Don’t,” he warns.

I quickly put two and two together. “What did you put in here?” I demand with a hushed voice.

“Relax,” he says, standing. “It’s just something to speed things up.”

Completely oblivious, Thomus plops right down next to me, swinging his arm around my shoulders.

“Is that mine?” he asks, not bothering to wait for my response before he grabs his drink and chugs it. He audibly plonks the glass onto the coffee table and turns to me, grinning mischievously from ear to ear, looking like he has a dirty secret he can’t wait to share with me. I return his smile with a hesitant one of my own.

He leans close to speak in my ear, though he’s not exactly quiet. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

My face immediately flushes because everyone heard that. I look around in panic to find everyone staring at us, too. Their expressions aren’t of disgust, though, just surprise.

“Oh my god,” I say, covering my face with my hands. I shoot to my feet. “I need a drink.”

As I speed away, I hear Thomus ask, “What did I say?”

I glance over my shoulder to see Diana covering her mouth in a fit of giggles and Jake shakes his head. “Dude.”

I’m munching on one of my red cookies when Thomus comes up behind me, his hand drifting down my back to settle on my waist. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Nothing. You just -” I glance up at him, noting his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. “I guess I’ve just never seen you so relaxed. Especially around other people. And we’re acting like we’re…” My heart’s thundering in my chest as I force the last few words out. “Like we’re a couple.”

He turns to face me and leans a hip on the table. “You’re right, it is a bit out of our usual routine,” he admits, his expression serious. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

I sigh and shrug a shoulder. “No more than you usually do.” I put my hand over his where it rests on the table, pushing the tips of my fingers against his knuckles. “And I don’t hate… this, how it feels, you know? It’s just hard to pair it with everything else,” I say. “If that makes sense.”

He nods slowly, looking down at our hands. “This is all new for me, if you can believe it,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to enjoy yourself.”

I bump his hip with mine. “Hey, we fucked in the bathroom. I’d say I'm having a decent time.”

He snickers and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, based on tonight’s agenda, but luckily Will calls us over from a card table Jake summoned to play Exploding Snap.

~*~

A little while later we’re all sitting around the card table. I’ve elected not to play since I don’t have my wand and technically Thomus doesn’t know that they know I have my magic.

Throughout the game, Thomus gets noticeably drunker than everyone else, despite only sipping his drink. During one round while waiting for his turn, I guess all the drinks and whatever Kyle spiked his drink with, finally catch up with him. He passes out with his head propped in one hand and the other loosely clutching his cards.

When they notice, the room goes silent except for the Christmas music still playing. Kyle slowly reaches over and shakes Thomus’ shoulder, making his head fall right onto the table with an ominous thunk that does not match the vibe of McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime .

I stare at his face, overwhelmingly anxious about his well-being, when an uncharacteristic snore breaks through the silence between songs.

“Finally,” Jake sighs, tossing his cards onto the table and running a hand over his face. “You sure about this, Kyle? There’s no turning back from this.”

Kyle stands, pulling out his wand. “Trust me. This is the only way.’

“What happens now?” I ask.

Kyle moves Thomus’ unconscious form into the air where he hovers with his arms and head dangling.

But he doesn’t answer me.

“ Kyle ,” I press, “what happens now?”

“Now, we put him to bed and by the time he wakes in the morning, you’ll be long gone,” he answers, moving with Thomus towards the stairs on the other side of the room.

I stand too, quickly following him to demand answers. “Where, exactly, will I be?”

“That’s up to you,” he answers casually. “You can probably get away with hiding here in this massive fucking house until he leaves.”

“What, you think he’s just gonna accept that I’m gone?” I ask. “No questions asked?”

“Yeah, we’ll just tell him you must’ve left in the middle of the night or something. What room am I putting him in, Jake?”

We’ve gotten to the stairs and it’s only then I realize everyone has followed us, with Will right behind me.

“Three doors down from the top of the stairs,” Jake answers. “On the left.”

I realize it’s the same room he put us in before and my face heats at the memory of being bound to the wall and fingered within an inch of my life. We get into the room and I rush forward to pull the velvety soft duvet back from the pillows. Kyle gently lowers him and I make sure he’s settled properly to avoid potentially choking on his own vomit in his sleep.

“What now?” I ask, pulling off Thomus’ shoes and tucking his legs under the blankets before pulling up the unfitted sheet to his chest.

“Merlin,” Kyle exclaims. “Will you quit it?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “ No , I won’t,” I say tightly. “We need this figured out before there’s no going back.”

“Fine,” he says, mimicking my stance and leaning against the wall. “What’re you so worried about?”

I take a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. “What makes you so sure he’s not going to find me?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s literally the Death Eater’s best tracker.”

“He hasn’t found George Weasley,” Will says.

“I’ve no fucking idea how George has managed to avoid getting caught by anyone , given how much of a high profile he has, but there’s no way I could do the same and be close to Voldemort like you want. A missing Lot? The Death Eaters are gonna go apeshit.”

“What about that Lot that escaped early on? Killed her owner and everything,” Kyle says.

“I’m pretty positive she’s straight up left the country,” I say, talking with my hands. “And I don’t think any of us are on board with killing him.”

Kyle nearly rolls his eyes. “I never said we had to kill him,” he says. “You’re here, out of your wards. There’s no need.”

“Okay, well me leaving the country is the exact opposite of what we want,” I say and start to pace. “How long would I be hiding?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle answers, shrugging. “Could be months.”

“Great, so you’re just gonna come get me when it’s time to, what, attack Hogwarts? Do you really think there’s gonna be another fight there? Or are we waiting for him to make an appearance somewhere?”

“I’ve heard he’s pretty reclusive right now, actually,” Will pipes in. “He hardly leaves the school.”

“Great!” I exclaim with fake enthusiasm. “So I’ll just camp out in the Forbidden Forest, then? Take my chances at running into Dementors, Death Eaters, centaurs, fuckin’ giant spiders , for fucks’ sake?”

“Girl’s got a point, Kyle,” Jake says, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the ornate bed post.

“Well, what else is she going to do? She’s useless to The True Order just playing house with a Malfoy,” Kyle says.

“Hey, I’ve done stuff,” I protest. “I’ve passed important notes to the Order, hidden a fugitive right under Thomus’ nose, and it was me who got the word to that safehouse that it was going to be raided.”

“ What ?!” Jake looks at me absolutely stunned. “That was you?”

“Yes! Who else in that room from the meeting would’ve tipped them off?” I ask. “ And I’ve managed to become immune to that scary as shit magic suppression potion. Have you ever taken that shit? It’s utterly terrifying to not have your magic.” I stop my pacing and look around at all of them. “To be completely at the mercy of someone who couldn’t give a shit whether you lived or died? We’ve all been sterilized and raped and branded as property. ”

I pull my left sleeve up, bearing the tattoo and the scars Bellatrix left me. Diana’s visibly horrified and everyone else just looks mildly uncomfortable. “And these are just the scars I’m willing to show you.”

I force myself to calm down, breathing deep in through my nose and out my mouth. “I’m not going to jump headfirst into a plan held together with Spellotape and superglue,” I say after a moment. “Thomus trusts you guys. Aren’t you his best friend, Jake? Are you really gonna break his trust by losing something he obviously has put a lot of time and effort into keeping alive?”

Kyle is glaring hard at the carpet and Jake's intense focus jumps between me and Thomus.

Jake exhales heavily. “She’s right.”

My shoulder’s sag with relief. “Thank you.”

“We have to think of a legitimate way to get you away from him,” Diana says. “Do you think he’d ever… let you go?”

I frown. “Like… set me free?”

She nods. “Then maybe you could get scooped up by another Death Eater or something, someone who works more closely with You-Know-Who or who’d… loan you, I guess.”

I turn around to gaze at Thomus, sleeping soundly, and recall every possessive look or grab he’s given me. “No,” I say softly. “There’s no way he’d let me go willingly.”

Kyle snorts. “Yeah I second that. The asshole nearly slits my throat if I even talk to her when he’s not around.”

“Even if I could convince him somehow,” I say, “it wouldn’t matter what he wanted. I know he’d use the Death Eaters as an excuse. He couldn’t pretend I was gone if someone saw me. The Malfoy’s reputation and the trust the Dark Lord has in them would be put in jeopardy. There’s no way he’d risk the lives of his family.”

“Is there anybody that out ranks him?” Will asks. “Someone who could make that choice for him.”

“I’m not sure, really,” I admit. “I’m sure there is, but I don’t know who. Someone older, like his brother maybe?”

“We just need a reason for them to take you from him,” Jake explains. “Like a change of… ownership.”

“Who, though?” I ask. “And why?”

“Probably best if that’s something for us to figure out,” Kyle says pointedly. “Just in case.”

I sigh heavily and start heading towards the door. “Whatever. All I care about is that it’s legit, okay? Something that’s not gonna get any of us killed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Will agrees, stepping out of my way. “Where’re you going?”

“To stand outside and pretend that I’m free.”

29 notes · View notes

lulubelle814 · 1 year

Text

My Works

I’ve posted a some of my one shots on here and will try to keep it updated.

I do not own Tom, any of his characters, any MCU characters, nor other real people mentioned in the fics. I only own my original characters and storyline.

Reblogs and comments are like crack. Gimme?

One Shots:

The Night We Met - The path of love is beautiful but not always easy.

The Masked Proposal - Liza is asked last minute to step in and guest host for the masked singer while Tom has some interviews he has to do.

Prank Your Way In - Beginnings are hard, but pranks help break the ice.

The Accident and the Misunderstanding - Breakups are hard especially when the reason is over something that's completely misunderstood

Oh Christmas Tree - Looking for a Christmas Tree last minute is never easy.

All I Want - It's been a shitty year, and all Annie wants is to not have to spend her birthday alone. What's even worse? Her birthday is 3 days before Christmas.

Multi-Chapter

Just Dizziness - Reader is watching Thor Ragnarok when you are hit with a wave of dizziness that knocks you unconscious. When you come to, you find you are in a hospital with Tom by your bedside saying he is your husband. When you shift between realities again and again, it leaves you stunned and deeply unsure of what is real.

Regards, Loki - Louisa has a hard time making ends meet until one night, her best friend convinces her to sign up on a sugar daddy website, but she only agrees to sign up for correspondence, not sex. Cora only made her promise to keep it up for a week, and she didn’t want to let her best friend down. Once the week was over, Louisa would delete her profile. It's just when she's going to delete her profile at the end of the week that she receives an interesting message.

In Every Life - Two souls destined for each other, but life has other plans. Will they find each other and have their happy ending?

10 notes · View notes

simplystevies · 3 years

Note

oh no! I don’t remember exactly what i sent in but I know it was loki and i think tva!reader idk it was definitely loki tho???? probably something with a mix of fluffy and smutty? any thing you remember from it work be fine

I hate when I accidentally delete my stuff so don’t worry about it if you can’t remember (Bc I also can’t with scatter brain)

royalty

pairings || loki laufeyson x servant!f!reader

summary || you loved loki all your life, why does he seem to, only now, care about you?

warnings || 18+ minors dni, public sex, unprotected sex, sir kink, breeding kink, slight angst, oblivious mutual pining, pet names (princess, my love), lots of fluff, loki puts his hand over readers mouth, loki has a big cock.

note || yes i am using this ask, yes i am stupid for deleting the fic, yes i am in love with zee, yes i created this with her kinks in mind, yes i cried when i deleted the other fic, who says im not doing well? I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED, IM REALLY PROUD OF IT!

wc || 3k

you grew up around the allfather and his two sons, your mother was a servant for odin so you three were kept tight together most days. as you grew up, your mother started to distance you from the boys, confused why you asked, “but mother, they are my friends!”

“you are growing, my little love, you need to focus on yourself, you can see the boys on the weekends.” your mother was right, as always, you were growing. you were gaining curves, your chest had grown, you felt moody.

most days you didn’t even want to leave your bed. you always did when you heard the loud roar of loki’s screaming voice from outside. each morning loki would come and wake you up so you two could sit in the garden reading books.

you had grown to like— love loki, he was a nice man to you. he appreciated you and the time you two had together while you had it. thor on the other hand, you felt he lived in the moment.

loki lived for tomorrow, he went to bed at night thinking of what he would get up to the next day, thor went to be thinking how he fulfilled what needed to be done and that he was ready to go then and there.

you and loki had a simple relationship, sitting in the quietest spot of the garden as you two read a book, some days you would watch the children playing in the grass.

that all changed when you became loki’s servant. he was asked by his father to hire one himself, so he chose you to spend more time with you. to say you weren’t excited would’ve been a lie.

you got to be around loki almost all day and night, you could sleep in his bed if he needed you to. your little girl crush was blossoming into so much more.

some days loki would just ask you to spend time with him, taking a day off meant loki wanted to be around you, not have you washing his laundry.

those days meant sitting in the garden and enjoying the presence of each other as you read. with the amount you two read together, you were surprised there were still books to read.

you knew loki loved you, but you also knew he didn’t love you the way you loved him. you could see it in his eyes, the way they brightened at the sight of someone else.

her name was sylvie, she wasn’t royalty, but she definitely wasn’t help either. she was sweet, she was loveable and kind. that only made you hate her more. the way she smiled around loki.

it made your stomach turn in knots. you could tell she was in love with him, because you smiled like that too. you wanted her to feel how you feel, to be envious of you.

you didn’t quite understand your feelings for loki until you were a teenager, you just knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. of course, just because you had feelings for loki didn’t mean you were completely devoted to him.

you realised that your body was something of lust, men wanted you for your body and you were sure as hell going to give it to them. sometimes you even used a few men for a quick orgasm.

they wanted it too, so you didn’t see an issue with the situation. if you both wanted it, then there was no problem. the only problem you ever faced was making it out of a house quietly before everyone woke up.

loki knew of you relations with random men, often helping you pick a few out. this only made you believe that he didn’t feel the same for you at all, because he was so okay with you being with someone else.

sometimes loki would joke and say “well just do me.”, but you never accepted even though your heart screamed at you to. you knew he was joking by his loud laugh after he said it.

working for loki was usually a breeze, he would help you while you cleaned and help you with his laundry, he left barely any work for you, feeling like he would be taking advantage of you.

“loki, let me do it.. c’mon it’s my job.” you huffed, grabbing his bed sheets from him. “it’s only your job because i gave it to you.” he protested, fixing the pillows.

you sent him a glare before finishing the bed, waiting for him to finish the pillows before doing them yourself. loki sighed and picked one of the pillows up, throwing it at you.

“you are just giving me more work!” you groaned. loki smiled and walked out of his room, clearly waiting for you to walk with him. once you were finished you fixed yourself before rushing out to him.

loki smiled as he saw you, walking with you towards the front of the castle. “where will we be heading?” you asked, putting your hands behind your back. loki scoffed at your curiosity.

“only to the gardens, of course, as we usually do after work.” loki said, leading you to library. “but, i still have a few more hours, i have to wash the clothes and—“ loki stopped you by turning in front of you.

he looked you up and down, with a look you couldn’t figure out. “i said, as we usually do after work, meaning, you are free for the day.” loki said, cocking his head to the library.

you sighed and walked in with him, knowing there was no way to get out of this. you two picked out a book each, walking to the garden. you two sat in the perfectly green grass.

your head was on loki’s shoulder as you two read through the books. loki looked up from his book, looking over at the children running around. “i would love a family, of my own.”

you looked up at him confused. “you have a family, loki, your brother? your father? your mother?” you sat up slightly. loki chuckled and shook his head. “have they not told you? i was adopted.” he said.

you pouted and looked into his eyes. “i’m sorry loki, i didn’t know.” you whispered, giving him a sympathetic look. loki shook his head and watched the children. “it’s fine, honestly.”

he gave you a wide smile before shrugging. “i want a family, with a woman, like you maybe.. with two children, a boy and a little princess, that i would spoil.” you zoned out completely.

he said he wanted a family.. with a woman like you. you didn’t hear anything he said after that, you were too busy being completely love drunk.

loki continued speaking about his dream family, while you were hopelessly falling in love with him more and more, nodding occasionally. you loved it when loki spoke about what he loved.

loki eventually stopped talking, looking at you like he asked a question. “sorry, i completely zoned out, could you repeat yourself please?” you asked, leaving over his lap. “would you like a family?”

you smiled slightly, biting you lip. “yeah i’d love one, especially with a guy like you.” you nodded. loki seemed disappointed, looking down slightly. “what?” you asked, sitting up.

“you have feelings for thor, don’t you?” he asked. you looked at him confused, shaking your head. “what? where did you get that from?” you asked. loki shrugged and bit his lip.

“you always hang out with me, but when you’re with thor you’re completely different and quieter and you always blow me off when i ask to hook up.” he explained. your mouth hung open in surprise.

he was asking you to hook up. he was jealous of thor. he liked you. you gulped. “i don’t really have feelings for anyone, especially not thor.” you said, going back to your book.

“will you go to the ball?” loki blurted. your head snapped up to him. “what? as your partner?” you asked, shock laced in your face. “no, i’m taking sylvie but.. i want you to be there.”

your heart broke as you nodded, chewing on your lip. “i have to go home.. to get ready.” you said, putting the book in loki’s lap and walking away. loki watched you confused, you never left like that.

you always walked back to the library with him, you never left your book with him. he brushed it off, getting up and going to the library by himself to put the books back. it felt weird.

as loki was getting ready, the room felt empty, your loud laugh wasn’t there, your small commentary on what he wore wasn’t either. you weren’t there. he felt lost without you, like a piece of him was missing.

he got up from the chair, walking to his room. he peaked out, hoping to see you, but instead he found sylvie smiling widely. “oh! hi! i was about to knock.” loki prayed his disappointment wasn’t shown on his face.

he gave her a flat smile before nodding. “shall we go then?” he asked, sticking out his arm. sylvie smiled and took his hand, walking with him to the ball.

loki searched for you, looking through every crevice of the area for your sweet smile and beautiful voice. he couldn’t find you, which made him more and more nervous that he did something.

eventually, fandral showed up with a massive smile on his face. loki watched him closely, waiting for anything to happen for some reason. then, a hand slid around his arm. he knew.

he knew by the painted fingernails, the bracelet around her wrist, how the dress sat on her shoulders, how it fell under her knees, how the necklace around her neck was shining in the light.

how the colour of her lipstick made her lips look more kissable, the colour of her blush complimented her eyes, the colour of her eyeshadow brought his eyes to hers.

she was you. she was the perfect definition of you. you were standing next— clung to fandral. loki wanted to walk over and strangle him, taking his anger out on the glass in his hand. he squeezed and squeezed.

a loud smash was heard and loki’s hand almost immediately turned red from his blood. “oh my gosh! loki, your hand!” sylvie panicked, grabbing a napkin and covering his hand.

he didn’t care. you were looking at him, that’s all he cared about. your eyes were glued to his as fandral ranted to you. loki felt his hand being cleaned up, as well as the glass around him.

the only person that mattered to him was you. the entire room went dark as you two started to float into the darkness. you walked over to him slowly, placing your hand on his shoulder.

you looked between his eyes and his lips before leaning up and placing your lips against his. “loki!” sylvie shook him. he snapped out of his day dream, looking down at his hand being wrapped up.

“you were out of it for a bit, are you feeling unwell?” sylvie asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. he looked over at you, you were gone. you weren’t standing there looking at him anymore.

loki nodded and looked back down at his hand that was now fully bandaged. “i’m going to.. i’m going to go out and get some fresh air, i’ll return soon.” he mumbled, backing away from everything.

he walked to the entrance, looking back down and instantly making eye contact with you. he clenched his jaw. you were watching him and he knew. he nodded slightly before leaving the crowded ballroom.

you sighed as you looked back at fandral. “fandral, i need to go out for a breath, could you excuse me?” you asked. fandral nodded, kissing your cheek before letting go of your waist.

almost instantly, he attached himself to another woman. you should’ve felt bad, but you felt a sense of relief as you walked out to loki. he was standing in the moonlight, leaning on the balcony balustrade.

they used to be white, now they were slightly stained a light beige. loki turned around, his eyes widened for a quick second but you caught them. “you look— hi.” loki smiled.

you gave him a small smile as you rubbed your arm. “if i said something earlier—“ he started, putting his hand out. “no, no you didn’t i’m okay, you just.. it was me.” you said, trying not to tell him about your feelings.

loki gave you a warm smile, something that was rare from him. “i missed you, when i was getting ready, it was boring without that and— and i realised something.” he spoke.

you looked at him confused before he walked over to you. he took your hand, putting it on his shoulder. you were even more confused now. he leaned in slowly, placing his soft lips against yours.

the kiss was soft, slow and passionate. loki’s hand moved to your cheek, pulling away to look for any sign to stop. you have him none, so he leaned in and kissed you again.

you sighed into the kiss, putting your other hand on the side of his neck. “loki..” you whispered as you pulled away. loki shook his head and put his forehead against yours. “i realised i’m in love with you,”

you bit your lip and looked into his eyes. “i have been in love with you ever since we met, i love you, y/n.” he finished. you smiled and kissed him again, feeling like you were in heaven.

before he knew it, loki was back in the same place of darkness with you lighting it up, your lips on his and he was the happiest he ever was. he was brought back to reality by you pulling away.

loki shook his head and lifted you up by the back of your thighs, walking you to the balustrade, placing you on top of it. loki kissed down you neck, pulling the straps of you dress off you arms, pulling the dress down slowly.

“fuck.. where’s your bra baby? hm?” he asked, his lips connecting with your left nipple. you threw your head back, moaning slightly as you shut your eyes. loki smirked as he moved to the other.

his teeth rolled against your nipple before he licked around it. you squeezed your legs around his waist. “loki, we are in public, someone could see us.” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“call me sir, princess, i need to hear you say it.” he whispered, his lips attaching to your chest. you nodded and pulled on his long black hair. “yes sir, need you inside of me.. please.”

loki groaned at how needy you sounded, how you begged for him. it made him weak. who was he to deny you something you both wanted? he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants.

you both looked down at his underwear, watching his hard cock spring out. “oh fuck sir.. you’re going to rip me apart.” you gushed. loki smirked, his hands moving to your back to keep you propped up.

your hands were gripping his shoulders, waiting for him patiently. loki moved one of his hands down your chest, moving it to your thighs before up to your dripping cunt. he laced his fingers around the string of your thong.

“a thong? for fandral?” he teased, pulling it down roughly. you gasped, pulling him into your body. “oh, look, speak of the devil, hm?” loki looked over the ledge to see fandral chatting with some women.

you blushed and looked over with him. it was a long drop, one you were not willing to take. loki moved the thong over the ledge, giving you a wide smirk. “loki, no!” you gasped as he dropped it.

loki chuckled and lifted you from the balustrade, bringing you to the other side. “we don’t want them to suspect us, now do we?” he teased, pushing into you almost immediately after the sentence.

you moaned out, throwing your head back as your hand pulled loki in to your chest. the two of you sat in silence, your small gasps and the wind blowing was the only thing being heard.

loki moved his hips slowly, making sure you were okay with everything. “f-faster, sir.” you begged, pushing your head into his shoulder. loki obliged with your command and started to thrust harder.

“w-we need to hurry.. sir, people would be— they would look for you.” you moaned, only making loki chuckle. “the only one looking for me would be sylvie, but she doesn’t matter, you’re all that matters.”

your cheeks grew hot as your mouth gaped, loki had bottomed out, effortlessly hitting every spot where you needed him the most. you wanted to scream but you knew you two would get caught and probably banished from the planet.

loki’s hand covered your mouth, allowing you to moan into his hand. your eyes rolled to the back of you head as loki continuously thrusted into you at a rough and quick pace.

“so desperate for you, i need to— i need to bury myself inside of you.” loki whimpered, his head resting on your neck. the moment felt so right, your hands pulled him in closer, begging for more.

loki provided, his hand going down and rubbing your clit roughly. your legs began to shake as you felt your orgasm coming on. “sir.. sir!” you cried out, making his hand press on your mouth harder

“shh, i know, i know my love, i know.” he cooed, rubbing your head as he quickened his thrusts. “fuck!” you squealed, throwing your head back as you came against his hips.

loki nodded, slowly thrusting his way to his own orgasm, thrusting it inside of you. once you two calmed down, loki placed his forehead against yours, making you smile.

“loki! loki! where are you?” sylvie’s voice sounded from the door. loki groaned and pulled away, pulling his underwear and pants up before looking back at you.

“i love you, please, come to my chambers after the ball, i shall see you then, my love.” loki said, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. you bit your lip and nodded, watching as he walked away.

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athenaeum-simps · 3 years

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Credit:- @filmcapri on Instagram

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kaleidescope-writes · 2 years

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New Year, New Ending (Preview)

In May of 2020, Y/N was able to escape after successfully taking the Heart of Audrilluria (or at least a close replica). But what if the plan didn't go as smoothly as they'd hoped?

Preview for Heart of Audrillura: The Reversed ending.

...

“Take the service staircase all the way to the first floor,” Edmundo instructed through the earpiece. “It should lead you to a small hallway with three doors, take the furthest door on the left.” Y/N began her descent to the first floor. After she’d gotten out of the guarded room, Edmundo had been leading her through the castle. Phase four was to escape without being detected by anyone. Fortunately, the route was premeditated, allowing Edmundo to make sure no one would witness her escape. She reached the bottom of the stairs and got to the hallway. Quickly making her way to the indicated door, she pressed the button on her ear piece that allowed her to speak to Edmundo, “I’m there, where do I go next?”

“You’re in the server’s lounge. Go to the door directly across from you. That should lead you to the main room, the exit is on your right. The car will be waiting for you outside,” Edmundo explained. Turning the doorknob with her still gloved hand, Y/N continued to follow his instructions. She entered the large, deserted server’s lounge, only briefly looking around to confirm no one else was there. Once she was confident no one was there, she continued her fast pace through the room and got to the door that would lead her closer to the exit. She turned the doorknob slowly, only opening the door slightly to make sure her path was clear.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself. Augustus and Charles were standing near the open door, seemingly in conversation. “The baron and duke are at the exit,” she said into the earpiece, “I can’t get out.” There was a brief silent pause before Edmundo spoke, “I sent someone to get their attention, your path should be cleared in a few seconds.” Still peaking through the small opening, Y/N waited for them to be led away. Seconds later, a footman Y/N assumed was another mole approached them. “Baron Augustus, Duke Charles. His majesty requests your presence in the hall,” the worker said loud enough for her to hear. Both men looked to each other in a mix of shock and confusion. “I thought he was with his beloved,” Augustus recalled. “Perhaps he has good news to share with us,” Charles assumed, already following the footman back to the hall with Augustus following close behind.

"Actually," a familiar, soothing voice called out, "I'm afraid we were interrupted before I could ask her." Thomas stepped into the room, stopping Charles and Augustus in their tracks. He looked at them, confused for a moment as to why they were answering his phantom call.

"Have I missed something?"

I dreamt about something like this and decided to put it into words. This is just a preview, so watch out for the finished piece. And let me know what you think. Should I make this angsty?

It feels Sooo good to be back, and I can't wait to hear from y'all again!! I love you, stay safe, stay proud, be careful out there, and I can't wait to see what 2022 has in store!! I hope you're celebrating safely in your small corner of the world!!🥰😘😘❤❤❤❤

ALSO: if you changed your profile name and would like to be tagged in this and other works in the future, please let me know!!

@ladyblablabla , @tvdplusriverdale, @pipolaki , @myraiswack , @shockwavee, @harringtonb-blog, @cynic-spirit , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ochizokulevy , @swifitiedaylight, @blue-honey-bee-from-france @scorpionchild81 , @imnotrevealingmyname @whathefuckrichard69 @frostedgiant @falling4uke @accio-boys @ashcrimson-is-writing @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @allthecreativeonesaretaken @hunterofartemisblog @sea040561 @strangersstranger @twhiddlestonsstuff

#tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelson #thomas hiddleston #king thomas hiddleston #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x ofc #character tom hiddleston #heart of audrilluria #reversed ending

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scarlettsage77 · 7 years

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Maybe This Time -- Chapter One “Random”

Tom Hiddleston x Plus Size OFC

No real description yet, It is going to be sweet and fluffy for the most part... but you guys know me... that never lasts haha

Chapter One - Random

It was just a random Thursday night. Why do the best things seem to happen on the most random days and the most random times? If it were a scene in a scene in a movie it would have been a rainy night. A chance meeting in a smoky bar or cafe. A sudden spotlight on the perfect girl in slow motion.

It wasn’t a movie though, so it had far less fanfare. It was a clear and quiet night, it was a hole in the wall cabaret in a neighborhood about halfway to being gentrified, and it was just a woman with a voice.

He'd been out to dinner with friends and was walking back to his hotel when he heard the music and figured a nightcap wouldn't hurt. The bartender nodded as he came in, motioning him over as the emcee, a brassy woman with dyed black hair and so much confidence it was almost imposing, introduced the next act. He ordered a beer and settled at one of the empty tables, taking in the charming little room with mismatched tables and chairs, bowls of candy and dollar store electronic candles on each table, artwork at various levels of talent, each tagged and displayed proudly despite the disparity in quality. He finally turned to the stage when the piano started playing and another woman took the stage.

If he was honest, his first thought was how unremarkable she was, round-faced and pleasant looking, her hair braided back from her face, wearing a perfectly ordinary paisley print thrift store dress, nothing flashy or sexy, just a normal looking woman, more curves than angles, walking out to take center stage. Yet something about her was also instantly appealing to him. She seemed quiet, thanking the emcee and adjusting the mic stand so she wouldn't have to stand on her toes, cringing at the noise it made through the sound system. He laughed a little when she apologized to someone off stage, “Sorry, Fred, I tried really hard to not be short tonight, but it couldn't be avoided.”

A voice called from the back of the house, “You're good, Jules. It's my fault for not bringing in a step for you.”

She laughed, oh that was a laugh, and she shook her head, turning to the pianist and giving him a nod.

He felt himself leaning in, suddenly needing to hear more of this voice. She had a wonderful laugh and a light soft voice that felt like whimsy, what was going to happen when she used that voice to shape a melody.

She took a slow deep breath, her eyes shifting to look at some invisible face out in the distance. “Tonight you're mine, completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow?”

That first impression was so very wrong, she was mesmerizing. She didn't belt things out or insist you watch her with overwrought faces and overdramatic gestures, she just sang a song as if she was having an honest conversation with someone. It was heartbreaking.

He forgot about his beer, he forgot about the candles and the candy and the mismatched tables and art, he was just, for the three-song set, all slow and sad ballads about heartbreak, confusion, and loss, completely lost in her face, her soft, fragile voice, her real and gentle, yet jarring pain.

As the piano finished out playing the final song, she readjusted the mic, stretched up to it to give a quiet thank you, and disappeared behind the black curtain at the back of the stage.

He wanted to follow her, to make her turn around, to look into her eyes and wrap his arms around her and tell her that she was beautiful, that everything was going to be okay because a part of him felt like no one had ever told her that.

He sipped his beer and watched the rest of the show. They were an interesting bunch of misfits: the handsome broadway tenor with an impressive falsetto but a little too much bravado, the sultry redhead who was clearly meant to be the star with her cookie cutter perfectly imperfect singing and tutorial quality makeup, the bluesy older woman with graying hair and a slight lack of rhythm. He couldn't leave, he just kept hoping she would come out from behind the curtain again, he wanted to talk to her, to tell her how amazing he thought she was, he just hoped she was still here.

After the final singer, the emcee came back and thanked the nearly empty room, giving him a point and a wink, “Especially you, you're new and should come back more often, handsome.”

He gave her a cheers and a nod and finished off his drink, leaving a tip under the bowl of candy. He was almost to the door when he heard her name again. “Jules!”

Just her head popped out from behind the curtain, hair unbraided and piled on top of her head is a messy, wavy knot, “What up, Fred?”

“Can you come keep an eye on the board for a bit? I need a smoke.”

“Sure thing.” She popped out from behind the curtain, the makeup scrubbed off, wearing an oversized David Bowie t-shirt and a floor length black and white skirt, glasses perched on her head. He watched her as she bounced off the stage and trotted past him. He wanted to stop her, but it felt like he was intruding, and it was never a good idea to postpone a techie when he was finally getting a chance for a smoke break, so he just smiled when she made the briefest of eye contact on her trek to the sound booth.

He took his glass to the bar, looking for excuses to linger. The others started dribbling out from backstage, making small talk with the few people still in the room. The tenor came bounding over to him. “Hey, Man, thanks for coming in.”

They shook hands, and he shifted his attention to the younger man. “Oh, no, thank you, you guys have a good show here. I'm glad I stumbled upon it.”

His eyes kept drifting to her as he made small talk, she was watching them.

The tenor kept talking, “Anyone ever tell you-you look like that dude?”

He laughed, “All the time.”

The redhead turned up next, draping herself lazily against the tenor, “Hey baby, Ani says she needs your black shirt. She's gonna fix that button.” she barely noticed anyone but the tenor. He looked over the sound booth again, biting back a laugh when she had queued up Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend”. This was starting to make a lot of sense.

He excused himself from the now far too handsy couple, took a breath and headed over to the booth. “Hey.”

She shook her head and looked down at him, “Shit, oh, Hi, sorry I was somewhere else, did you have a request?”

He laughed, “No, not really, I just wanted to come over and tell you that I thought you were amazing.”

She laughed with a half smile and waved him off, “Bah, it was alright, but thank you.”

“No, really, you are fantastic, don't brush it off.”

She squinted and shook her head, “Um, thank you.”

He reached over the board carefully, “I'm Tom, and yeah, I just really needed to come and tell you that.”

She took his hand and gave it a firm shake, “I’m Jules,” she paused then, really looking at him now. “Wait, you're Tom, like” her voice drops to a stage whisper, barely audible over the music playing, “That Tom.”

He couldn't help but laugh, rubbing the back of his head, nodding.

She laughed also, a nervous edge to that affable laughter. “I'm a fan, so, excuse me a moment while I try to tamp down my inner screaming fangirl.”

“Oh you're fine.” he smiled falling then into an easy silence, just looking into her eyes.

A kind-faced man with a salt and pepper goatee came up behind her, “You're all clear, thanks, Jules.”

She snapped out of the silence. “Cool cool, I'm gonna duck out then, tell Ani I'll email her the new design tomorrow, okay?”

“Got it. Have a good one.” He gave her pat on the back and she hopped down.

She really was a short one, easily a head shorter than him. She extended her hand this time. “It was nice to meet you, Tom, thank you for coming.”

He smiled and took her hand, “Jules, can I buy you a drink?”

The shock on her face was adorable, “Sure, but not here, Ryan waters down the scotch.”

#Maybe This Time #Tom hiddleston x plus size OFC #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston #teamtom #imagine tom hiddleston #imaginetom #imagine hiddleston #imagine tom #tom hiddleston imagine

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

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As You Are | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Daisy)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Daisy)

Summary: Daisy is dating Tom but she is insecure she doesn’t stack up to her previous girlfriends. Her insecurities get her into a spot of trouble when she purchases a dress too small for the red carpet event. Tom comes to her rescue.

Warnings: Implied Smut, Angst, Fluff, body image issues, Body Image, Self-Esteem Issues, OFC is short and curvy

Daisy felt the cool metal of the tea canister graze across her fingertips as her perch on the counter gave way and her prize slipped from her grasp. Her bare feet hit the kitchen tile hard, and she stumbled as she lost her balance.

“Thomas!” she yelled into the silence of late morning. Nothing. “Tom , ” she yelled again, more pleading as though she would burst into tears at any moment.

This time she heard the water shut off upstairs in the master bathroom and moments later the padding of large feet down the wooden stairs. Tom emerged, his long locks still dripping from his after run shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What is darling?”

Daisy’s head slumped down, and she jabbed her figure at the tallest shelf in the cupboard. “You did it again. I can’t reach the tea.”

Tom gave a small smile as he moved to retrieve the tea for Daisy. “I am so sorry, darling.”

“It’s been four months, Tom. Four months since I moved in and you are still putting things on the top shelf.” Daisy pouted as Tom handed her the tea.

She turned to finish making her breakfast. Tom’s arms wrapped around Daisy’s waist. “I am a creature of habit.” He bent at the waist kiss Daisy’s neck. “I will endeavor to improve.”

“I have heard that before.” Daisy snipped as she measured out the tea and placed it in the strainer before setting it in the cup off to the side.

In a single motion, Tom grabbed her by the waist, spun her around, and placed her on the counter facing him. “Have told you I love you?” Tom leaned in to place a kiss on Daisy’s rosy lips.

“Only twice today.” Daisy muttered against Tom’s lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close, his towel falling by the wayside.

Tom broke the kiss and smiled down at Daisy. “We must remedy that immediately.” He tugged at her shorts and tank top.

After several orgasms and a shared shower, both Tom and Daisy dressed for the day. As Daisy pulled on her scuffed Converses, Tom settled onto the couch with a large script.

“What are your plans for the day?” Tom slipped his glasses onto his face.

“Just some errands and lunch with Chelsea.” Daisy responded, avoiding eye contact.

“Did you get a dress yet?”

Daisy pretended to hunt for her keys in her purse. Tom looked up. “Daisy.” his lips pressed into a thin line. “You told me you had it under control. The red carpet is only three weeks away.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She turned so Tom wouldn’t see. “I will take care of it today.”

Tom stood from his seat and walked over to place his hands on her shoulders. “I am sure whatever you pick will be stunning.” He kissed her hair before she stepped out and he returned to his work.

“Chels!” Daisy hollered from the depths of the posh dressing room. Her friend burst through the door.

“What is it?!”

“I can’t get the zipper in the back. Can you help?”

Chelsea giggled as she moved to help Daisy. “Wouldn’t you rather your strapping boyfriend help you out, I mean into your dress?”

Daisy threw a dirty look over her shoulder. “Not funny, Chels. You know my feelings about Tom and my appearance.” Daisy squirmed. She confided in Chelsea about her insecurities. Daisy, at only 4’ 2” and curvy as all get, felt she couldn’t measure up to Tom. Literally and figuratively. She never said a word to Tom but begged off invitations to attend events with him. Until now. Tom insisted she attend.

“I don’t know what you are insecure about, your body is amazing and Tom wouldn’t just date anyone.”

Chelsea’s words fell on deaf ears. “He could have anyone in the world, why me?”

“Because you are smart, funny, kind and right now, not fitting into this dress.”

Chelsea got the zipper halfway up on the navy satin A-line dress. Daisy frowned. This was the twelfth store, and she was no closer to a dress. Tom would not be pleased. “Can you see if they have a larger size?” Daisy pleaded.

Chelsea left and located a thin salesgirl with a pinched face just outside the dressing room. In the meantime, Daisy stepped out to peek in the three-way mirror. But for half of her back spilling out, the bottom of the dress looked perfect while the sweetheart neckline accentuated her cleavage.

“Do you have the blue satin in a larger size?” Chelsea asked, gesturing to Daisy’s frock on the sales floor. The girl glanced at Daisy admiring herself in the mirror before turning her nose up at Chelsea.

“Sorry we don’t carry plus sizes here.” the girl spat out the words “plus size” like they were curse words. Daisy’s eyes burned with tears as she stormed back into her dressing room before peeling the dress off her body and getting dressed.

“Daisy—” Chelsea started before Daisy emerged from the room, dress in hand. She walked up to the salesgirl.

“I’ll take it, can you ring it up, please?” Daisy plastered on her sweetest smile.

The girl sneered for a moment. “Right this way miss.”

Daisy pushed up the door with her hip, her hands ladened with purchases. The cool tones of evening replaced the sunlight of the day. Tom was missing from the couch. Daisy placed her packages in the arm chair.

“Tom?”

“In the kitchen, darling?”

Daisy followed the enticing smells of food. She found Tom hovered over the stove. “What smells so good?”

“My specialty, Bolognese.” Tom turned and offered her a taste. She blew on the red sauce before taking a sip. “Needs salt.”

“As you wish.” Tom smiled and grabbed the salt cellar. “Why don’t you take a shower and it will be ready when you come down?” He kissed her lips and Daisy shuffled upstairs.

About ten minutes later, Daisy padded down the stairs. She tugged on her pajama shorts as they rode up as she walked. Tom placed a large plate of pasta at her place at the table. Daisy’s mouth watered. She inhaled the aroma of garlic and wine and grabbed her fork to dig in. Tom took his seat next to her at the head of the table with his own plate.

“How was shopping?” Tom asked in between bites. Daisy gestured to the chair overflowing packages. Tom smiled. “Successful then. Is there a red carpet dress somewhere in that pile?”

Daisy looked over and nodded. She spied the garment bag hanging over the back and flashed back to the scene at the store and lost her appetite. She put down her fork.

“What’s wrong, darling? Did I put too much red wine in it again? I’m sorry.” Tom reached over and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just full from lunch.” Daisy lied. she picked up her plate and placed on the counter.

“Don’t worry about that. I will take care of it.” Tom offered. Daisy nodded and headed into the living room to gather her purchases to take upstairs. “Do you need any help?”

“No I got them!” Daisy yelled back. “I could use the exercise.” she muttered under her breath as she heaved the heavy bags onto her shoulders.

Three weeks came and went in an instant. Daisy spent them watching her food and attempting to exercise. After a week of crash dieting, she forgot all about her intentions to eat healthy and ordered pizza. Which led to ice cream and cookies. Before long, any weight, she may have lost was right back. And tonight was the night of the gala. Daisy stood in the bathroom, praying for a miracle. The water running behind her in the shower as Tom prepared for the night.

Daisy took her time applying her makeup, making sure every detail was perfect. Tom stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You look ravishing. I can’t wait to see the complete outfit.” He kissed her forehead to not muss her hard work and turn to get dressed.

She finished twisting her hair into an elegant updo and wrapped her robe around her tight before ducking into the walk-in closet. The garment bag hung like a ghost. Haunting and taunting Daisy. She gulped and pulled the dress out. It looked beautiful on the hangar. She dropped the robe and slipped the dress from the hangar. As she stepped into the dress, she hoped it would zip. Daisy shimmied the dress up past her hips and slid the straps on her shoulders. She reached behind for the zipper, but could grasp the delicate tab.

“Tom, can you help me with your zipper?” Daisy asked through the door, regretting her hasty decision three weeks ago.

Tom appeared in a flash, his top two buttons and cuff undone. “Of course, turn around.”

Tom’s fingers slid down her back and sent shivers through Daisy. Tom chuckled as he pulled on the zipper. As Daisy feared the zipper stopped about halfway up. Tom tugged but to not avail.

“Darling, the zipper seems to be stuck.”

Daisy burst into tears. “I’m not going!” and she ran out of the closet and the bedroom before slamming the door to their spare bedroom.

Tom stood for a moment stunned at what took place mere moments ago before following after Daisy. He opened the door without a word and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Darling…” he tested, rubbing her stockinged ankle.

Daisy sobbed into the pillow.

“Darling, I can’t fix this unless you talk to me.”

Daisy lifted her head to face Tom, eye makeup ruined. “Why would you be with someone like me?”

Tom pulled Daisy to a sitting position before sliding his arms around you. “What do you mean like you?”

Daisy gestured at the ill-fitting dress. “I’m no supermodel or actress. I’m.. I’m…” Daisy sobbed as she looked up at Tom’s pleading blue eyes. Tom’s brow furrowed.

“Do you think you are not good enough for me?”

“Well look at me and then look at your ex-girlfriends.”

“Who are ex-girlfriends for good reason. They did not have your heart, your smile, or your spark.”

Daisy managed a weak smile. “But the press…”

“The press can stuff it. Is this why you have been acting so strange these past weeks? Have you been trying to fit into this dress?”

Daisy nodded. “I just wanted to look like someone who belonged with you.”

Tom wiped away the smeared mascara and took Daisy’s face into both of his hands. “I love you just as you are. You never have to change for me or anyone else. You are enough.”

Daisy searched Tom’s face for any malice but saw only sincerity. She smiled and Tom leaned in to kiss her, pulling her onto his lap. Daisy’s hands twisted around Tom’s curls.

“Now,” Tom slapped his knees. “we need to get you sorted.” Tom took Daisy’s hand to lead her back to their room. “You need to fix your make-up while I come up with a solution.”

Daisy opened her mouth to protest.

“I won’t hear of you not going, now go.” Tom shooed her into the bathroom.

Daisy examined the damage in the mirror and regretted her outburst. It took fifteen minutes fix everything. She stepped out into the bedroom to find Tom dressed. There was an extra white dress shirt on the bed.

“What is that for?”

Tom smiled. “That is for you, darling. If it is good enough for Sharon Stone, it is good enough for the love of my life.” Daisy blushed at his words. Tom held up two safety pins. “But first, turn around.”

Confused, Daisy complied. Tom tugged the satin away from Daisy’s back. “What are you doing?”

“Securing your zipper to prevent any red carpet accidents.” Tom weaved the safety pins into an “X”.

“And where did you learn that?”

“The theater. I have seen my fair share of wardrobe mishaps. One picks up these kinds of things.”

Daisy giggled as Tom skimmed his fingers down her bare arms. He picked up the white dress shirt and held it up for Daisy to slip her arms in. The shirt was oversized but Tom spun Daisy around and buttoned several buttons before tying the bottom of the shirt into a knot off to the side.

“There.”

Daisy stepped into the bathroom to look. She was shocked. You couldn’t see the half zipped zipper and the white shirt accentuated her curves. She skipped out of the bathroom into Tom’s arms, crushing his lips into a passionate kiss. Tom’s wandered down the curves of her body and he sat on the bed pulling her to straddle his lap. She pulled him deeper by his neck. Their embrace interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

“That would be the car.”

“Make them wait.”

“I can’t be late.” tom sighed as he slid Daisy off his lap, straightening his tie. “But don’t think I am done with you.” Tom whispered into her ear, promising a late evening.

The event blurred before Daisy’s eyes. The flash of photographers and the microphones and screaming. She now understood why Tom came home exhausted from red carpet events. Now they sat in the back of the car, Tom’s hand making lazy circles on Daisy’s knee. His movement moved her skirt up inch by inch with each swipe. Daisy blushed. Tom leaned over and nipped behind her ear.

“You are delicious. I can’t wait to devour you.” His lips trailing down to the crook of her neck.

Daisy suppressed a moan. “Tom…” Tom tugged at the collar of the shirt, exposing more skin. “not in public.”

“I shall have you wherever I want you.” Tom continued as his hands snaked around her waist. “The car, the bed, the couch, the wall.” He punctuated each phrase with a kiss. Daisy;s underwear dampened.

“Is that a to do list?” Daisy breathed, trying to suppress the pornographic sounds threatening to leap from her throat.

Tom pulled back and his lips curved into a devious smile. “You will have to see.”

As if on cue, the car came to a stop, and the doors opened. Tom pulled Daisy into the house with lust in his eyes.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst

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just-the-hiddles · 4 years

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September Story Posting Schedule

Hello my readers! Here is the current schedule for September. For the time being, Adam and Charlie drabbles will continue on Mondays. And here are the stories being posted. All of these have been drafted. Dates are subject to change.

September 3: Bleeding Hearts | Adam x Charlie | A Sex Pollen Fic

September 5: Save the Last Dance for Me | Loki x Reader | Fluff

September 10: Pressure Points | Adam x Charlie | Smut

September 12: Let’s Stay Together | James Conrad x Reader | Smut

September 17: Bloodlust | Sir Thomas Sharpe x OFC | Vampire AU Smut (Prequel to A Gentleman and A Scoundrel

September 19: Full Time Job | Tom Hiddleston x Reader (but more a gen fic) | Fluff/kidfic

September 24: Please Forgive Me | Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader | Smut

September 26: Practice Makes Perfect | Loki x Older and Plus Size Reader | Smut

I have already started writing the new requests and I am loving the ideas. Depending on how much I get written in the month, I might slip in some extra stories on Mondays. Time will tell. What you are looking forward to?

#blog update #posting update #writing update #stories for september

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 5 years

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Meet Me at the Chalet || day one.

Eventual pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Jenessee Borosi)

Word count: ~5.7k (told you it’d be longer, but I promise they’re not all this long)

Summary (I suck at these): Jenessee goes on a solo vacation after the release of her first novel. She got a little more than she bargained for when she gets snowed in with her biggest celebrity crush.

Warnings: So much freaking fluff, swearing but blink and you’ll miss it, depressing thoughts (future chapter), mental breakdown (future chapter), Tom being Tom

night one. || day one. || day two. ||

The next day, the stillness greeted me. The same feeling I would get waking up on a Saturday afternoon after a blanket of snow coated everything for the very first time. Like the snow froze time, nothing moving or wanting to disturb the serenity. It’s one of those days where getting out of bed is optional. This feeling is exactly what I was wanting while on this vacation.

I could have stayed in bed all day, but my stomach protested pretty quickly after sleep left me. Climbing out of my comfy cocoon, I stretched every muscle, ridding it of any trace of tiredness. Gosh, I haven’t had this heavy of sleep in years! What are these mattresses made of? Magical clouds?

I took in my room. It’s a complete contrast to the lobby. Modern dark gray walls complement the black carpet. White faux fur rugs sit at each side of the King sized bed to contradict the dark. Clean white sheets adorn the bed with black and gray accents on the comforter and in the pillows. The windows and doors are framed with a natural light wood color to bring the modern touches down a notch.

Opening the black-out curtains revealed the floor-to-ceiling windows with the most picturesque view I’ve ever seen. Pine trees are covered with snow, weighing down every branch. The still falling snow is a mixture of tiny cotton balls and glitter. All of the white nearly blind me, my eyes not used to the light yet. But still, my heart swells. Vacation begins.

I quickly throw on the most comfortable outfit I packed: a dark gray cowl neck sweatshirt with black, white, and purple Zubaz. I slightly flinched when I took in my appearance in the bathroom mirror. Leftover make-up flecks were under my eyes. My make-up remover wipes are obviously not doing their job properly… I ran some warm water over my face to get rid of them. Putting my long, wavy hair into a braid was the last thing I did before leaving my solitude.

As I flipped on the light in the kitchen, I hesitated in the doorway. He wasn’t kidding about “top of the line.” Top notch stainless steel appliances: double ovens, 8-burner stove top, industrial sized refrigerator, and the biggest microwave I’ve ever seen. There were also all of the small appliances that anyone would need. If I were a chef, I would be in heaven. I almost don’t feel worthy enough to be in here.

Picking my favorite playlist, I dove into my own little world. As the music flooded the room, my body carried me throughout the expanse of the kitchen collecting every ingredient, utensil, and bowl I need to make French toast with strawberries. Jamming to just about anything that would pop up as everything came together.

Applause broke my reverie, my heart leaping out of my chest from fright.

Spinning around, clutching my chest I see the last person I ever expected to see. Leaning against the door frame with his long and lean body adorned in a white t-shirt, a black zip-up hoodie, and hip-hugging sweatpants, a book stuffed under his armpit, a charming smirk was plastered on his gorgeous bearded face… was Tom freaking Hiddleston.

What in the world is he doing at a small chalet in the middle of the mountains in the states when he could be at some luxury, private resort in Europe? How does he even have the time to be here? Doesn’t he have a huge movie coming out soon, play rehearsals, and two TV shows in the works that he should be out promoting? How does he have any time to do anything personal at all?

Although, as his fan, I’m proud he is finally taking some time for himself. He’s been busy nonstop since his first Marvel movie. He deserves to take some time for himself for some much-needed R&R. No screaming, no cameras in his face, no signing autographs- total privacy he so wants and deserves. That reason alone is why I will not make my admiration known, not right away at least. He does deserve all of the credit he is due, but I would like his vacation to remain a peaceful one.

He cleared his throat, “I apologize for scaring you, but I thought I should make my presence known before you were to go on.” He spoke so eloquently, it was hard to ignore the way his beautiful blue steel eyes radiate with restfulness this getaway has finally given him after so long. “And I must say, you have the most eclectic taste in music.” He added while stepping in.

His sudden movement snapped me out of my frozen state. “Well it never hurts to have a variety.” I turned back to the stove. “And don’t think that complimenting my musical interests gets you off the hook for giving me a heart attack before I got food in my stomach.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it.” Even though my back was to him, I could hear the smile in his tone. “How can I make it up to you, then?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I flipped the piece of bread onto its other side, loving the golden brown color. I turned slightly back to him. “I thought you were leaving today.” I recall the guy yesterday mentioning the other guest was supposed to be departing this morning.

“Well, thanks to Mother Nature, my stay has been extended. Not that I’m complaining though. I wasn’t ready to leave quite yet.” He leaned back against the counter next to the stove, so he was in my line of sight. One thing I heard about him is he is one of those guys that loves eye contact, especially during conversations. His move only proves that is right.

“Why not?” I asked as my curiosity was piqued. Assuming he doesn’t want to leave yet because it means going back to his hectic schedule is reasonable, but one should never assume.

“It’s very serene here. I like it better than the alternative.” Another thing I heard was how notoriously private he is. He only lets the world see what he wants them to see, leaving aspects of him that he reserves only for his close friends and family. Same goes for his relationships. He lets people know what he wants them to, never revealing too much. He must feel that everyone only cares to know why he’s single or if he’s dating anybody. So to him, keeping his private life just that is important. He loves his fans, he’s said so on many occasions, but he deserves to have some form of normalcy in all of the chaos.

“Everyone deserves a little peace and quiet every now and then. Pressing pause on life is good for your sanity.” Plopping the finished piece of French toast on the plate, I turned off the stove.

I can absolutely understand why everyone needs the pause button. Being a writer it is nonstop meetings and phone calls about pages and storyline updates. Everyone is always rushing to meet the deadlines. The trouble is I’ve never been good with deadlines or peer pressure so publishing my first book nearly caused a meltdown. Hence the reason I am on vacation by myself in the middle of the mountains. Now everything is published and awaiting more reviews. My publisher already gave me a heads-up that they were mostly good and that’s all I needed. Criticism isn’t something I’m fond of either. Thankfully my agent, publisher, and editor all agreed to leave me alone while on this trip, so I don’t have anything to worry about. Plus, this gives me a chance to get inspired. Knowing the big guns would want another book proposal as soon as the first one was completed, I already gave them the sequel to my first. That satisfied them for the time being. Now I just have to think of my next project.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” He pointed out, detecting my hidden meaning. He’s perceptive… gotta watch out for that.

“You could say that.” I sighed, moving to chop the strawberries I want on my French toast.

“How rude of me,” He blurted, shaking his head in self-disappointment, “I never introduced myself.” I chuckled at his humbleness. Like he really has to introduce himself to anybody anymore. But being the ever-polite British gentleman, he feels the need to. He held out his hand to me. “I’m,” he paused, “Will.”

I tried to stop the smile that threatened to show but failed. He’s going to use an alias. I guess he wants to remain anonymous. Again, his actions make complete sense to me. When I was given the opportunity to publish my book, I decided to use a pseudonym. Anonymity was important to me as well. That way I could still go about my life without my name being out there. I used a compilation of my initials whereas he is using a shortened version of his middle name.

“I’m Jen.” I fold my hand around his, locking eyes with him. It’s in that moment I registered just how close he got to me. With our height difference, I was forced to look up at him in order to meet those bright blues. As gorgeous as they are in pictures, they’re even more mesmerizing up close. The small section of light brown contrasted the light blue inner iris and the dark blue outline framing everything perfectly. His eyes alone could make anyone’s knees go weak…

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jen.” He muttered, never looking away from me. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, so I transferred my attention to our still connected hands. His large warm hand swallowed my small cold one. Instantly his warmth spread up my entire arm, also sending shivers down my spine.

“The pleasure is all mine…” I brought my eyes back to his. They now had a hint of something in them I didn’t recognize at first. “… Will.”

Before I could get completely lost in his eyes, I pulled my hand out of his, immediately missing the warmth of it. I quickly resumed my slicing, needing something to keep me busy. “So, what are you reading there?” I asked needing to break the tension that was in the air.

“Erm,” He cleared his throat again, taking a step back, “A book my friend told me to check out.” He took it out from under his armpit gripping it with both hands.

“Lemme see.” I wiped my hands off before he handed it over.

My heart dropped. I recognized the cover right away. The one word title flashed across the front like a beacon. The cover art of a guy and a girl standing with their bodies touching, but their hands not letting themselves be connected, denying what they have… My book. He’s reading my book. “Deny by J.J. Ehlby.” I read out loud, careful not to give myself up. I pretended to skim the back cover before handing it back to him. “I didn’t take you for the romance type.”

“What type do you take me as?” He leaned his hip against the counter again, relaxing back into our conversation.

“More…” how do I want to describe this? “well-known and established novelists like Dickens, Tolstoy, Twain, and more importantly Shakespeare. You’re definitely into Shakespeare.” Everything I’ve heard about him mentions his love of Shakespeare. He also participated in a debate about Dickens and Tolstoy. His love of classic literature is something I admired about him. His ability to read, comprehend, and appreciate literary geniuses is rare and praiseworthy.

He chuckled at my obvious stereotyping of him. “Is it because I’m British?” He asked with faux offense attached.

“Yes.” I bluntly answered, only half-kidding.

He full-on laughed at my honesty. He threw his head back and threw his hand over his heart, taking after Chris Evans in that regard. Listening to his laugh echo through the empty kitchen was like listening to the most beautiful symphony. You don’t get to see this type of laugh from him often. It’s always that “hehe” kind of giggle. This was him not caring and letting go. What a sight it was.

I couldn’t help but join in. “Well, am I wrong?” I countered, fully knowing I’m not.

“No!” He choked out, trying to calm himself down. “No, you are not wrong about my love of Classical literature.” He adjusted his glasses back to the tip-top of the bridge of his nose. “But you are wrong about my liking of romance.”

“Oh?”

“I quite like it actually. Shouldn’t falling in love be the best feeling in the world?” I looked up when he didn’t continue. He was watching me like he wants me to understand what he’s trying to say, “That head over heels, my heart is yours and yours mine, can’t live without you, want to spend the rest of my life by your side feeling…” He trailed off, taking a step towards me again. “That heart-pounding, staggered-breathing, knee-trembling, soul-freeing feeling of true love…” His voice dropped a few octaves, losing its sturdiness, only coming out as a whisper by the end. He’s passionate about love, even though he doesn’t have that kind in his life at the moment. How that is even remotely possible is beyond me… His gaze was locked on mine, entrapping me. They were filled with longing and… what I concluded as recognition. Recognition of what? I haven’t figured that out yet… My heart was pounding in my ears almost deafening in the silence. “I quite enjoy reading about two people discovering that feeling.”

All I can think is “Thank God the counter is here” otherwise I would be in a puddle on the floor.

How can a conversation with someone I just met be this intense? How can we be so open with each other with barely knowing the others name? I feel like he’s giving me a look inside his heart but at the same time keeping those guards up that he’s built throughout the years. He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve and showing me everything he’s got right away…

I wrenched myself out from his trance and this time, I took a step away trying to put some distance between us. He may be ready to show me everything, but I’m not. My heart is surrounded by miles of barriers that will be virtually impossible to break down. “Okay, Romeo. I get it.” I sent him a small smile, showing him that I’m not shutting down completely like he might think. “You are a fan of romance.” I strolled over to one of the cupboards, grabbing the powdered sugar, bringing it back over to my plate. “Can I eat my breakfast now?”

“May I join you?” He politely asked, giving me pleading eyes like a toddler gives his mother when asking for a piece of candy or a cookie. Irresistible cuteness.

I stared at the pile on one plate and my prepared plate next to it. I was going to consume the entire lot myself… but I wasn’t about to turn down spending more time with him. I found him a plate, splitting my portion in half for him. A brilliant smile followed nearly knocking me over.

After eating in the dining room, I retreated back upstairs while he offered to clean up. I protested at first, but he insisted, feeling bad that he kept me from eating for longer than I wanted. He practically begged me to so who was I to say no?

I immediately went to my room, locking the door behind me. I rang my agent who was about to get an earful…

“I assure you, Jen, no one had any idea he was there. By all accounts, he was home in London.” She tried to calm me down after I ranted to her before she could even say “hello.” “This could be a good thing!”

“How? I’m supposed to be on vacation, relaxing. How can I do that with the most perfect human being on the planet in the next room?” I flopped back on my bed, eyeing my suitcase full of comfy pants, sweatshirts, and hardly any make-up. I never planned on seeing many people on this trip. The plan was to lock myself in my room for seven straight days before rejoining the world again. I can’t do that now knowing Tom is here. I don’t want him to think I’m a total hermit.

“You also went there to get inspired. With your second book’s first draft already in the editor’s hands, the instant that one comes out, the more they’re going to want. You got lucky with your first few novels already being completed before you even found a publisher, now is the time to get a head start on what’s next for J.J. Ehlby, a.k.a. Jenessee Borosi.”

I rolled my eyes at how predictable she is and for how she used my full name. “So you’re saying I should write a book about this.” I didn’t phrase it as a question for a reason. I’ve been working with her for a year now. She’s been good about not pushing me, but she can’t help it sometimes. I know she has people to answer to, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“Just think about it.” She didn’t deny my indirect accusation. “That ‘After’ book was originally fan-fiction and it was turned into a movie.”

Again my eyes roll. “Being snowed in, in a secluded chalet in the mountains with one of the world’s most brilliant and most well-known actors? What do you think is going to happen? Because of our solitude, we’ll find something in the other that we’ve been missing in everyone else; that we’ll fall in love in a week’s time? That sounds like one of those cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies that are so unrealistic, they’re laughable. That’s not realistic, that’s a fantasy.”

Although… based off our conversation in the kitchen, that’s already not far off, at least for me. I’ve had a major crush on Tom for years prior to this. Only dreaming of being with him, never believing I would actually get the chance to meet him. Me falling for him isn’t completely far-fetched because I’m halfway there already. But him? No way.

“Just think about it.” She repeated before ending the call.

Think about it I did, but quickly came to the conclusion that I would not exploit Tom like that. This is his private time as much as it is mine. I will not expose anything he doesn’t want anyone else to know. I respect myself, my work, and above all, him too much to stoop that low to get my next book idea.

A knock on my door brought me out of my thoughts.

“Care to join me downstairs?” He asks as soon as I open the door.

“And do what?” I return, not really caring what he was to suggest. I will take every opportunity given to me to be in the presence of this beautiful man.

“We could read if you brought something to read. I know that’s what I will be doing. You could do whatever it is you like to do.” He rambled on nervously. It was adorable actually. What he had to be nervous about, I have no idea. Was he afraid I would say no? That I might have had enough of him already? Impossible. “I figured since we are the only ones here, and more than likely will be for the foreseeable future, we don’t have to-”

“I like to write.” I interrupted, my slight sadist side being fulfilled by his groveling.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. You can write, and I can read. We can do that… together.” He concluded, all nervousness starting to dissipate.

“Okay. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Ten minutes later we were sitting in a comfortable silence on the large U-shaped couch, Tom reading my book and me attempting to think of something to write about. However it proved more difficult than I was expecting. The only thing I could think of was him. How he was sitting just feet away, reading my book. I tried to determine where he was in the book depending on his reaction but was failing at that as well. He masked his emotions with a furrowed brow and straight lips. Occasionally that mask broke letting a chuckle slip out. He’s finding it amusing at least. That’s a good sign right?

“Having some difficulty?” He broke the silence, his eyes never straying from his page. Crap, he saw me watching him. I knew I wasn’t being stealthy, but he hasn’t looked up since we sat down. How could he know that I’m having a hard time getting started?

“You could say that.” I shifted my position, hoping that might make me more comfortable and by some miracle have something, anything come to me. Not only is it difficult having him here reading my book, it’s odd having someone else, period, around while I write. I’m always by my lonesome when doing so. I catch myself making some funny faces while writing. In order to skip any embarrassment by someone seeing them, I prefer solitude. That also doesn’t bring any outside distractions, like I can listen to music, stare off into space, talk to myself- do whatever it takes to come up with what I want to do next. “Writer’s block is rearing its ugly head.” He snickered, my book falling onto his lap. “This bitch is partially the reason why I’m on my solo vacation.” He set my book to the side, giving me his undivided attention, beckoning me to continue. “I thought a change of scenery might help some.”

“And has it?” He asked, seemingly fully invested in what I have to say. I squirmed in my seat, not used to this kind of attention. Growing up an only child with older and younger cousins who are focused on their little group, I was mostly alone. No one really paid attention to me. The adults criticized my decision to become a writer instead of a typical “9 to 5.” Also not having much in common with the next generation young ones, I kept to myself. Instead turning to writing as an outlet for my loneliness. I was extremely hesitant before getting published. My writing is like my diary. I didn’t know if I ever wanted anyone to see that far into my mind. But after rave reviews from my publisher, I decided to go for it. Even during the initial meetings with editors, they didn’t give me as much attention as Tom is giving me right now. To say it’s odd, but greatly appreciated is an understatement.

“It’s given me ideas but putting an idea to paper is more difficult than one would think.” I think back to my agent’s idea. I never said it wasn’t a good proposal, I just said it was cheesy and more than likely, overdone. Why would I want to do something that’s already been done multiple times? Yes, there are always different perspectives on the same story, but my argument stands.

He continues to ask me questions about writing, each more thoughtful than the next, shocking me to no end. No one has taken this much interest in my writing. Not even my publisher. What really throws me through a loop is how genuinely interested he is. Most people ask to be nice or are curious but drop the topic after one or two questions. Not Tom. His curiosity is refreshing and scary at the same time.

“Have you ever wanted to get published?” He asked one of the most common questions I would get. My answer still remains the same to this day.

“No.” He raised his eyebrows at my answer. Everyone who asks is always surprised by my confession. I shrug, “Since I started, it never was my goal. I wrote for me. I didn’t need anyone to read anything because that’s not who I wrote for.” I look at the pen in my hand and smile. It rests on the writer’s bump on my middle finger I’ve gained from many, many years of writing. I used to loathe it because it made my hand look funny, but I’ve learned to accept it because it makes me unique. “Having a pen in my hand feels as natural as breathing to me. Ever since I wrote my first “novel” in 5th grade, I’ve almost always been writing. Everyone I went to school with knew me as ‘the girl who writes a lot’.

As I got older, that’s when people started asking if I wanted to publish someday. My answer was always no, because I never thought I was good enough to and criticism and I don’t go hand-in-hand. I read a quote once that said: ‘Wanting to be a writer and not wanting to be rejected is like wanting to be a boxer and not wanting to get punched.’ It’s not the rejection that held me back. I know that’s par for the course, just like it is with acting. My fear was all of the negative criticism that my books were bound to get. I’m the type of person who could get 100 compliments and one negative remark and only focus on the one negative comment. That would stick with me longer than any of the good.” Because of that, I almost said no when I was offered to publish. I was urged to because of the concept I had. The publisher loved that it was never done before and all of the ideas I had from it, they practically begged me. So after a year of editing, it was published a month ago. I have yet to read a single review though. The only thing I heard was it was doing really well.

“I tried putting something online, but because it wasn’t fan-fiction or have any supernatural elements incorporated, it didn’t take off.” I shrugged off its initial failure. That’s what caught my publisher’s attention though. They liked the overall premise and once they heard what I planned on doing with it, they were on board. “Because you know, that’s all anyone under the age of 25 cares about nowadays.” Shrugging again like it was no big deal, I returned my blank pages in front of me, hoping words would have magically appeared while talking. No such luck.

“Have you ever written anything other than novels?” He questioned, taking into account what I’ve told him. Novels have always been my go-to. I just have had so much to say and so much to write that all of my works have turned into multi-chapter stories. “Have you tried a novella or just a short story?” I shake my head. I’ve seen and read short stories and one-shots on Tumblr, but never tried my hand at it. I guess I could try it… “I say, try that. See where it takes that beautiful mind of yours.”

My head snapped towards him. Beautiful? How could he think that if he’s barely scratched the surface?

He smiled sweetly at me, warming my insides more than I ever expected before opening my book back up.

As we returned to the silence, my mind raced at the possibilities. I logged on to Pinterest and looked up some writing prompts to see if anything sparked some ideas. It didn’t take me long before I found one and I was already 5 written pages in. It felt good to write again. Having the ideas pour out of my mind and onto the paper is an exciting feeling that only a writer can appreciate.

Soon enough the sun was setting and neither of us had moved since we sat down. It was a quiet afternoon that I was yearning for while on this trip. And to share it with Tom was just an added bonus.

I only paused when my hand started to cramp. Tom seemed to have noticed so he suggested we think about dinner. It wasn’t until he mentioned food that I realized how hungry I was.

He insisted on making dinner for us since I (unintentionally) made breakfast/lunch for us earlier. He didn’t know what he should make so I made a suggestion: pickle and bacon grilled cheese. He was intrigued by the idea, so he agreed. I tried to help but he shooed me away, telling me to grab a glass of wine and enjoy the show, only asking me how much bacon to use and how many pickles to cut up. He started asking questions about my upbringing to which I did the same. We both discussed the ways our respective parents divorces paved our lives into what they are today but didn’t get too deep or else I would have cried. I would need a lot more wine for that to happen. He at least found the positive aspects from his situation whereas I definitely haven’t. He credits his parents divorce for showing him human frailty and how he can be more compassionate in his understanding of it. With him being 12 when it happened, he was old enough to understand what was happening. I admire him for the way he has taken something tragic and turned into something positive. As if I didn’t know this already, but he’s a much better person than I am.

By the time he was finished making 4 sandwiches: 3 with pickles and bacon and 1 regular, in case he didn’t like my add-ons or in case we were both still hungry afterwards. He wound up loving it, even adding more to his plain one. He couldn’t believe he went so long without trying it and vowed never to go back to regular grilled cheese sandwiches. Mission accomplished.

“Are you going to get back to your writing now? You looked… rather inspired before. I didn’t want to interrupt.” He asked as he walked me to my room for the night.

We both cleaned up the kitchen, much to his protest. But I argued my point and he couldn’t say no. He told me all about growing up in Wimbledon with his sisters, going to an all-boys prep school to graduating with a “double first” in Classics at Cambridge and attending the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. I listened in awe of all he accomplished while I was still in elementary school, before I even discovered my passion for writing. He raved about the small projects he’s done since graduating, focusing on theater. I could tell he was purposely not mentioning Marvel or any other movie he’s done since gaining recognition, wanting his anonymity to stay that. I just listened while handing him dish after dish. Thankfully there weren’t very many, but we took our sweet time doing it. I loved hearing him talk. That accent could make anything sound interesting. But other than that, hearing the passion in his voice as he talked about the theater and how he discovered his love for acting by going as a boy was awe-inspiring. After he rambled, he apologized for only talking about himself while we were cleaning up. I of course didn’t mind, hating talking about myself so it was nice to talk about him and learn more about him from the source and not from the internet.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “We’ll see if I can get back into the swing of it.”

“Well I believe in you.” He smiled, stopping in front of my door. “I believe you can do it.”

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure?” His confidence in me is astounding.

“Well, not to sound like a creep, but erm,” he hesitated, “I was watching you before.”

Dear Lord, why? Why did he have to watch me? He saw the faces I make, my staring off into space, and hand gestures I do to recreate the picture in my head… I’m mortified.

“You were so engrossed in what you were writing. I could quite literally see the wheels turning in your head as you were figuring out what to do next.” His tone was filled with as much awe as I did listening to him. “It was mesmerizing.”

Feeling the blush creep in, I looked away from his wonder-filled eyes. No one has ever found something I do “mesmerizing” or anything remotely interesting. So, why does he? Why does he out of all of the people in the world find me so worthy of that kind of praise?

As I sat on my bed after we said good night, I finally could comprehend everything that happened today. I spent the day with Tom Hiddleston. I had uninterrupted quality time with him. No pressure of being watched, judged, or rushed. We had a relaxing day enjoying each other’s company like we were 2 friends on vacation together.

Is he a friend? Or am I jumping the gun here? Would he consider me one after we get out of here? Would he want to keep in contact? Or would I just become a memory that fades as time goes on? On the other hand, why would he even want someone like me in his life? He’s probably got plenty of friends that would be much better company than me. People who he can have intelligent conversations with and go in depth about things I know nothing about. I’d bore him and he’d drop me. But being a gentleman, he’d do it nicely. So there would be that.

I’m not going to have any expectations when it comes to after this week. As far as I’m concerned, after we are clear to leave, we will go our own ways and never think about the other again… well, that’ll only be half true. There’s no way I could ever forget about him. He’ll be everywhere. Me? I’ll only be a memory. He’ll have no reminders of me. He’ll forget about our time together once he gets back to the chaos that is Hollywood. So I will enjoy his attention while I have it…

day two...

Permanent Taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @hiddlephile @naniky

#tom hiddleston #meet me at the chalet #mmatc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x female!reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston series

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stevieang · 5 years

Text

May I Have This Dance?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size OFC

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going. This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff.

Tags: @3dsaunt @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @babybluesunsets @bettercallsabs @brittyevans @brookebarnes @captain-rogers-beard @cecygee @csrfavs @docharleythegeekqueen @dorito-distractions @everythingisoverrated @fabicchi @favhearts @flawless-disaster @gifsbysimplysonia @hazeleyedgirl7 @hennessy0274-blog @inumorph @jaguars2007 @jaamesbbarnes @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @janeyboo @jouhainak @learisa @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @lilylovescomics @lojo83 @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lostinspace33 @madicardi @magellan-88 @mamapeterson @me-a-hopeless-romantic @meyoko10 @mindingmyownbusiness @mizzzpink @neverleturheartshow2 @nomadicpixel @part-time-patronus @patzammit @pinkieandthebrain1 @redqueen1221 @rosiethebaker @sebbytrash @sgtjbuccky @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @stark-spangled-banner-man @st-eve-barnes @stillherebiandabitch @sunriserose1023 @suz-123 @the-real-kellymonster @tutis24 @winterismyfavoriteseason1945 @winters-beauty @yaykitty3

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding. At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston. Much polite flirting ensues. Will there be more to come? (That’s not a rhetorical question, I’m honestly asking for your input about whether I should write more.)

A/N: This is my first RPF. I missed writing WAY more than I thought I would, but life had me completely inundated and unable to do anything but get through what I needed to everyday. I missed my Tumblr family, I missed creative thinking, and I hope this lives up to what you’ve come to expect and like from me. Thank you in advance for your time and kindness. Constructive, kind feedback is ALWAYS welcome.

Oh, and endless thanks to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for just being there whenever I call. She’s too good for words. Well, my words, anyway.

“Excuse me, but would you care to dance?”

You were fully engrossed in the game you were playing with the ring bearer, flower girl, and other assorted guests’ children and hadn’t bothered to turn at the sound of the voice. By the time you felt the gentle but noticeable tap on your shoulder, you had long-stopped wondering who had asked.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you, but - “

“5-4-3-2-1 Ready or not here I come!” You slowly and dramatically turned towards the giggles and titters of little voices, slid your hands down over your closed eyes, and widened your stance to catch the little buggers. As you opened your eyes to scan the room and made unconvincing assertions of how quickly you’d win, you barely caught yourself from plowing into the tall, lanky man who did not try in the least to conceal a smirk.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Did I bump into you?” Your momentary distress quickly morphed into nervous laughter as you realized with whom the gods had chosen for you to cross paths with.

“Nope, not even a little. I’m the one who should apologize to you, as I’ve clearly interrupted a highly competitive game of hide-and-seek.” You snickered and shrugged your shoulders as the back of your dress and each of your hands were unceremoniously yanked by little people who had yet to learn that patience is a virtue. Maybe that’s why you enjoyed being around children so much - you hadn’t learned that particular lesson yet, either.

You mouthed “sorry” as you turned your head away, and saw him shake his head, appearing to chuckle as he took off his glasses to clean them. As he turned towards the other guests, you fell back into the seedy underworld of high-stakes hide-and-seek, but you weren’t likely to forget that moment any time soon.

Tom Hiddleston had just asked you to dance.

As the night wore on, you lost the company of your young compatriots as their parents collected their offspring, thanked you profusely, and carried them off. You were grateful to return to the grown-up world and quickly sought out the bar. As you sipped on the best gin-and-tonic you’d ever had, the newlyweds and some members of the bridal party found their way over and a chorus of memories, laughter, and challenges rose up.

“C’mon, please?!??! You can’t say no to us tonight, we’re protected under the “we just got married” statute. Please????” The drunk pleading by the newly Marrieds almost made you snort Bombay Sapphire out of your nose.

“You’d better be grateful that I’m in such a good mood. Give me a minute to go over and introduce myself then I guess I’ll make sure I’m not held in custody on the ‘You Said No To The Marrieds’ statute.”

After a few minutes of getting redirected at each attempt to get away, you took the microphone and cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, folks. I know you may have had your fill of my singing voice after the wedding today, but I’ve been asked by the newlyweds to close out the night by singing one of their favorite songs, which to be honest, is also one of mine. I’m told that I cannot deny this request, as it is part of the canon of newly-married law, and since both of them are lawyers, I guess I have to comply.” As the pianist started the intro, you closed your eyes and swayed. This one earned you lots of applause (and much-needed gigs) in college, and the words poured out without thought.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

I'm living in a kind of daydream, I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem to me that's everything

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

When the last notes faded along with your voice, the remaining guests whistled and cheered. Your blush quickly faded as your best friends, including the bride and groom, tackle-hugged you and walked you off the stage in a laughing huddle. You thanked every person that was kind enough to compliment you, and smiled dreamily as you saw the unmistakable frame of the famous actor in the room talking with your best friends.

As he saw you approach, his smile widened and The Marrieds followed his gaze to you. He excused himself, gesturing “one minute” while he visited the bar, and quickly returned on his trajectory to you, now with a bottle of water in his hands. It seemed to roll off his impossibly-long fingers while his other hand gently encircled your wrist. You were feeling the effects of the performance high, your drinks, and the long happy day at the same time, which loosened your tongue.

“Thank you very much. I know etiquette requires me to sip daintily, so you'll need to forgive me while I down this in a less-than-ladylike way. Please don’t tell my mother.” His laugh was a rolling baritone, easy and well-practiced, accompanied by eye contact that would usually make you turn away from its intensity.

You checked him out as you tried not to gulp. Thankfully you didn’t choke or need the Heimlich because drinking bought you a minute to wonder what in the hell Tom Hiddleston wanted with you. Was he trying to return something you dropped? Was he going to compliment your singing? You weren’t quite drunk enough to ask outright, so you capped the plastic bottle and smiled.

“Thank you, that hit the spot. It was nice meeting you, but I think I’m going to head back….” His smile dimmed a bit as he recognized your attempt to leave. Reaching out, he quickly spoke over you so you wouldn’t end the sentence.

“Ummmm, no.”

Awkward silence. Crickets.

“Excuse me?” Tentacles of weirdness raced up your spine. Sweat formed on the back of your neck as you formulated your escape plan.

His nervous laughter caught your attention. “I mean, yes, it’s nice to meet you, too and you’re welcome, but….”

Your eyes followed his as they cast downward and then popped back up with a shyer, smaller smile. “I’d hoped you’d have a dance with me.”

Cue full-on tipsy giggles. “I’d love to, but it seems the band is packing up.”

He let your wrists gently drop and practically leapt over to the bandstand. After a few minutes of bowed heads, covert pointing, and close talking, he returned with the smile you’d seen projected on a 50-foot screen. With a short bow, he held out his hand.

“Problem solved. Now, if you would be so kind as to dance with me?”

You put your hand in his as he led you to the nearby dance floor. You remained completely clueless as to what alternate universe you had fallen into. Maybe you were dreaming. You’d have to pinch yourself to find out, but Tom didn’t give you the time.

He pulled you closer, placed one hand respectfully on your thicker-than-average waist, and, taking your right hand in his left, placed it on his chest. You looked up and could not hold back soft laughter. He quietly asked what you were thinking.

The band was doing a sweet rendition of “Wonderful Tonight,” and you hummed along. As he turned you slowly, the distance between you lessened.

“Nothing, just having a wonderfully unexpected dance with a world-renowned actor. It’s how I normally spend my Saturday nights.” He leaned back to make eye contact, smiled, and returned to twirling. His hand had worked its way further around your waist and your hand that was not on his chest had moved to cup the back of his neck. As the last twangy notes played, you tried to pull away, to quickly gloss over any awkward goodbyes, but he held fast.

“I sound like a broken record, but thank you.” His face quickly changed from dreamy to serious, which was disconcerting.

“What?” Your face belied your urgency to cut to the chase and say goodnight.

He stepped back and moved his hands to your wrists, his light touch giving you goosebumps.

“I’m curious - why do you keep trying to leave? Have I offended you somehow?” His eyes locked on yours, a sincerely curious look on his face.

“No, of course not, but I figured you needed to go and I didn’t want to make anything awkward. I avoid awkward at all costs.”

“If anything, leaving would be bittersweet. I was hoping you’d have a drink with me so we wouldn’t have to broach that subject yet.”

Your neutral expression masked your shock. It was a practiced response after years of suppressing laughter when your students did something hilariously inappropriate. He didn’t press, didn’t ask again, didn’t change his mind. He simply waited and looked, bringing front and center how uncomfortable it made you to be seen.

“Let me freshen up, and I’ll meet you in the bar downstairs in 20 minutes or so?” You giggled, again, as he bowed and kissed your hand, taking your leave and saying goodnight to other guests.

You started to sober up as you took the elevator to your room, took a shower and threw on the outfit you wore to the bachelorette party 3 nights earlier, thanking God you had sent it out to be cleaned. By the time you made your way downstairs, you felt more like yourself, more in control, less starstruck.

You smiled tiredly as he stood to greet you, offering you the outside seat on the banquette. It was late enough that you didn’t need to shout, and you had just the right amount of attention from the waiter and bartender, without attracting fans. You shared your plan to stay in the area for two more weeks, visiting friends and seeing the sights, while he mentioned he was going to be in town for a few days, as well.

You sipped on a delicious champagne Tom suggested and asked him something that had run in and out of your mind since the days of your high school obsession with Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables.

“Tell me how you split yourself between the real you and the part you’re playing. I’d guess that every part you play contains some small piece of you, but how do you reconcile that with being “just you,” being the person that your family and dearest friends know? Is it difficult to become someone else and then return to everyday life?”

He listened, smiled softly, and sighed. “You’ve just asked the same question that was posed to the very first people to pretend in front of others.” He went on to explain about the psychological work he has done and still does to prepare for roles, the time it takes to transition back and forth between roles and real life, and some funny stories about times when he’s mixed up the two with memorable results.

The familiar chuckle snapped you out of your reverie. You saw his loose curls move side to side and wondered why he had stopped talking, then realized you’d yawned several times in a row. “I’m sorry, I heard what you said, but I think your voice lulled me into another state of consciousness. It’s very soothing.”

His smile was bright, but tired. “Are you saying I put you to sleep? Guess I’m not as captivating as I’ve been led to believe.” He cut off your attempt to explain. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been going on but you’ve struck the mother lode - asking an actor about how they prepare psychologically for their life’s work is a question worthy of a monologue. Didn’t mean to hypnotize you.”

He silently covered your hands with his as you brought out your wallet to pay for your drinks. “Please, let me. I invited you, remember?” Your nod was followed by evidence of your stubbornness. “Thank you, I’ll just leave a tip, then.” He stood as you did, steadying you while you took your leave.

“Thank you for the dance, and the drink, and the conversation, Tom. It made this gorgeous day even better.” You kissed his cheek, noticing he closed his eyes while you did.

“Thank you, as well. Tonight was an unexpected delight. Would it be alright if I asked to see you again?”

You smiled and sighed. “You have my number.”

Chapter 2

#may I have this dance #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston #rpf #plus-size reader #plus-size marvel #stevieang #chapter 1 #reblog for time zones

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colorsunimaginable · 26 days

Text

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

story summary:

*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 fic: 6.7k warnings for this chapter: p in v, fingering, dirty talk

a million boops to my beta reader banners by @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Eight:

Cliveden’s gardens at night in the winter are beautiful. They’re vast and eerily empty, though that could just be the stillness of the night. Victorian lamp posts light the way and with the gently falling snow, kinda gives me Narnia vibes.

I wander around, careful to stick to the crunchy gravel paths and keep the main house in sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve had such an opportunity for escape. Yeah, I could Apparate anywhere, but why? Now that a plan will be in place, what’s the point? It’s exactly what I wanted.

Movement draws my eye and I catch Diana’s head above the shrubbery, heading in my direction. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I sit on a nearby bench and wait for her to join me.

“Did they send you to make sure I was still here?” I ask, mostly teasing.

“Kyle did,” she admits as she sits next to me. She’s all bundled up in a stylish thick wool coat while I’m just fine in my Ilvermorny sweater and Thomus’ scarf. “But that’s alright, I’d much rather talk to you.”

Instantly my guard's up. “About what?”

She hesitates for a moment, but I give her my best encouraging expression, despite my raging nerves.

“Well, I wanted to ask how you feel about Thomus.”

I blink, my eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, um, well, I -”

“It’s just that Jake seems to think you genuinely care about him because of how adamant you are about his safety,” she says. “Now that I’ve met you and I’ve seen you two together, I think he’s right, but I wonder if it’s more than that.”

I think about my answer for a few moments, but respond with a question instead. “Is this because you two used to date?”

She immediately shakes her head and chuckles. “Definitely not. It didn’t last longer than a month or two and it was a long time ago.”

“Did-did he break up with you?” I ask with some hesitation.

“I dumped him actually,” she says. “He just… When we hung out or went on dates, his mind always seemed like it was elsewhere. The only time he seemed fully present and invested was when we…” she trails off.

“When what?” I prompt.

She gives me a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it might be a bit TMI.”

I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as TMI for me. I need everything.” Even if that information guts me. I’d always rather know.

“When we were sleeping together,” she says all in one breath.

I don’t say anything, waiting to hear more. “Oh, is that it?”

Her eyebrows tilt up in sympathy. “I suppose if I were in your situation I wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I can see that. Do you know what he was so focused on?”

“Well, I know his mother had passed away a few months before and then there was… her .”

“Bellatrix,” I sigh knowingly.

“He visited her every couple weeks - no matter what. I didn’t even know he was still going after we started dating. When I confronted him, he insisted there was nothing physical going on between them, but I… had my doubts. He told me he stopped going after that, but I know he went back after it ended,” she explains. “Does he still see her often?”

“I… have no idea honestly.”

“Have you not asked?”

I shake my head. “Why would I?”

“Because you two are…” she sighs. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“There’s a massive power imbalance between us and I’m not going to let myself forget that, regardless of how I feel.”

“What about how he feels?” she asks gently.

“If anything he feels is real, then why am I still his prisoner?” I answer a little too quickly. “He doesn’t see me as his equal. I don’t want to belong to him like I’m some kind of possession. I want a partner willing to rely on me as I want to rely on them in return. How can anyone be devoted to an object?” I finish by inhaling sharply, having taken short breaths during my lament.

Her lips press together as she regards me with a cautious look. “The world has really changed since Harry Potter died,” she says. “No one is doing well - especially muggleborns. No one has been able to fly under the radar since they started implementing some kind of forced registry.” She pauses and then chuckles. “And you would not be able to go unnoticed.”

I sigh. “It’s the hair isn’t it?”

“Actually, no,” she says. “You’d be surprised how popular some of these articles about you have been.”

Now this, I’m taken aback. "Articles? As in more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. The best one is from the New York Ghost , but Witch Weekly's was pretty nice. Does someone have it out for you at The Daily Prophet , by any chance?"

"Probably Rita Skeeter," I grumble. I want to know what they've been saying about me. "Though I'm surprised I was interesting enough for one article, let alone multiple."

"I disagree," she says. "I think what you're doing is very brave. You haven't given up despite all these odds stacked against you. Honestly, I was really excited to meet you when I heard you were coming."

I blush, laughing awkwardly. "I, um, I'm sorry, I definitely had no idea you existed until tonight. Thank you for inviting me to that thing on New Years Eve, even though I can't go. It reminded me of what being normal was like."

"No problem!" she smiles. "I would've been glad to have you. You’re super cool and totally normal.” She winks at me and quietly laughs to herself. “But seriously, you should consider thinking that he might just want to keep you safe, where he can protect you.”

“But I can protect myself ,” I gently protest. “It’s because I’ve been under his ‘care’ that I’ve been vulnerable! He has to realize that.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy. “I think he does, because there was one weekend Jake told me about. He’d just met you and Thomus in Edinburgh and you’d been… assaulted while they’d all just been standing there, unknowing. He said he’d never seen Thomus be that violent before - violent without using magic that is.”

I stare at her eye-wided, enthralled with this story. This change in perspective.

“And then the next night, there’d been this party Thomus got drunk at and Jake said he could tell something was really bothering him. Apparently, he was really reluctant to talk about it, too.”

I scoff. “I hope he got over himself and opened up so you can share this information with me now.”

“Yeah, so he finally said he blamed himself for being an idiot and not paying better attention. Like, it really hit him that your safety was in his hands.”

I… don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. My heart wants to swoon and my mind wants to roll its eyes. Except, if he’s not as terrible as I thought, am I allowed to hope?

“I think I remember when he came home,” I admit. “We continued drinking and he asked me how I felt - which was very new for us at the time.”

Diana smiles ruefully. “Does he get points for trying, at least?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “I’m definitely nervous that it could all just be a… fling to him.”

Diana startles me by releasing a loud cackle.

“A fling?!” she bellows, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh honey, you’re delusional.”

“What? No!” I protest. “I’m being realistic.”

“Oh Lady Morgana,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes and standing. “Come on, let’s go inside before my fingers fall off.”

~*~

By the early hours of the morning, I’m utterly exhausted.

Kyle had changed his mind and decided to tell me his roughly outlined plan. It’s not terrible, but luckily the rough bits still have time to be hammered out. I should have plenty of notice before I have to leave, plenty of time for contingencies.

Thomus is out like a light, still snoring softly, when I return. I try to be as quiet as possible as I strip down to my undies and crawl into the massive four-poster bed with him.

It must not be massive enough, though, because just me softly rolling into position beneath the covers is enough to rouse a few sleepy words from him.

“Darling?” he rasps and I feel his hands reach for me in the dark.

“Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hums and pulls himself closer, resting his head on my chest. “How did we get back to the cottage?” he says sleepily, curling himself against me.

“We didn’t,” I say, running a hand through his hair and the other over his shoulders. “We’re still at Cliveden.”

“Hm, I don’t remember getting here.”

His tone isn’t setting off any alarm bells. It’s low and gravelly, like he’s not entirely awake yet. He’s just mindlessly chatting and I just have to be casual.

“Well, you were very drunk,” I say. “You passed out playing Exploding Snap. Jake had to levitate you up here.”

His arm around my waist tightens, pulling me tighter against him. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t say anything, panic instantly spiking my heart rate, and I hope he’s not awake enough to pay attention.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” he continues. “Not that I’d blame you if you did.”

I stay silent, trying to convince myself that his calm demeanor is because whatever he’s talking about, couldn’t be about the drama of the night. There's no way he was awake enough to hear what we said.

“No,” I murmur. “I didn’t.”

“What room did he put us in?” he murmurs.

I let out a sudden strained laugh. “You’d never guess.”

~*~

On New Year’s Eve, Thomus leaves again. He says it’s to finish last minute tasks for the Gala and whatnot and I feel… depressed… again. I’m mostly uninterested in eating - I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich for dinner. I’m not in the mood to read, listen to music or watch any movies, but I’ve had The Nanny on all day - just to make the house less quiet.

So I just go to bed at the blessed hour of 8pm.

I’ve barely been in bed for longer than fifteen minutes when the easily recognizable sound of the Floo roaring to life drifts up the stairs. I’ve sat up by the time Thomus finds me.

“In bed already?” he asks, surprised. “On New Year's Eve?”

I shrug, holding the blanket up to my naked chest. “It’s not the easiest holiday to spend by yourself.”

Thomus sits on the edge of the bed, swiftly leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I don’t intend for you to, I agree completely.” He jumps up, taking long strides through the bathroom to my room, where I hear him opening the wardrobe. I sigh, scooting to the edge to throw my legs over it. It’s just my luck I was already in bed.

“A little warning might have been nice,” I say when he returns, arm cradling a black hoodie and black leggings.

He takes one look at me and the next moment he’s tossing my clothes on the bed and crowding into my space. His large hands cradle my head as he braces me for his lips on mine. He leans in and I have to prop my arms behind me so we don’t fall backward. Of course this causes the blanket to fall and his hand swoops down to cup and grope my chest, the attention causing my nipples to harden.

His kisses take my breath away and my thighs are quick to part for him. His hips slide right into the space provided, grinding his hard-on against me. My kisses slacken because all of my attention goes right to my throbbing clit and I desperately whimper.

His hips rock against me one more time before he pulls away, both of us breathless. His eyes trail down my body as he speaks. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “I will have to savor you later.”

When he steps completely away from me, I’m left cold, so I quickly slide on the oversized hoodie as he adjusts himself in his pants.

“Savor me?” I ask when I stand, stepping into the pants one leg at a time.

He chuckles, watching me wiggle the waistband up over my hips and stomach. “I thought it was a bit more romantic than fuck.”

Ping . There goes the tiniest fracture in my heart for him. I scramble for something clever or funny to say.

“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” I say, popping in a British accent for the last word. “You could’ve said shag .”

“Cute,” he smirks.

I follow him downstairs, sliding on my socks before I stop at the door for my sneakers and turn for the fireplace.

He clicks his tongue. “Not that way.”

I narrow my eyes and follow him out the door. He takes me to the spot beyond the fence and touches the tattoo before Apparating us to the Manor. The front gates are open and he swiftly takes hold of my tattoo again to get me over the barrier.

We walk down the entrance path, under gilded arches and golden fairy lights crossing overhead from the tall hedges. Holding my hand, he pulls me around the building along the back toward a door being held open by an elf.

“Miss,” Remmy says to me in a disinterested greeting and drops his voice to a whisper. “Master Thomus, Mistress expects you in fifteen minutes. Master isn’t even dressed -”

“Don’t worry, Remmy, I will be there,” Thomus reassures them as we pass. “Mums the word about Miss Alder, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Remmy remembers,” the elf dismisses.

Thomus leads me to his room, making sure to use hallways noticeably absent of chatty portraits. A familiar route because of the many times I'd avoided them myself. The moment we’re in his room, he heads for the bathroom, already stripping. There’s a black robed suit hanging from a hook on the door.

“Please tell me you're not gonna surprise me with a ball gown, are you?” I ask, hopping up onto the bed and toeing my shoes off.

“I value my neck, thanks,” he remarks, pulling on first his suit pants, then the black button up shirt. “Would you grab me a pair of cufflinks from the closet?”

“Does it matter which one?” I ask, knowing he's got a variety.

“No.”

By the time I emerge from the closet, elegant silver M stamped cufflinks in hand, he’s already dressed. He smiles at me as I pass him the tiny pieces of metal.

“All you have to do is wait for a few hours,” he says, his mood curiously… cheerful? “Go back to sleep if you'd like - just don't leave this room. Only Remmy knows you're here.”

“Why all the fuss?” I ask, my eyes greedily taking his suited form in. I suppress the desire to pull him close by his silk tie for a kiss. He looks too suave and sophisticated and… way out of my league.

“For the simple reason that I don’t want certain guests to know you’re here,” he explains, stepping into the bathroom once again. I hear him spritz a bottle of something.

“And why is that again?”

He glides out of the bathroom, passing me by with a quick peck to my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I completely ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question, because I’m way too distracted by his suddenly fragrant cologne. I breathe in lung-fulls of cedar and pine, trying not to swoon in his wake as he pulls out his wand to light the fireplace.

Then he’s gone, the door audibly locking behind him.

~*~

Well, I definitely try to sleep. Except I wasn’t even tired when I climbed into bed the first time.

First I change into a purple wispy nightgown with a deep vee in the neck that stops at my thighs. Then I change out of it when the frills around the short sleeves become too itchy under the covers, opting instead for a simpler one with long sleeves and a hem that falls around my ankles.

All this, just to be uncomfortable in every position I try. Nevermind the fact my mind keeps doing laps of worrying, wondering who exactly Thomus doesn’t want to know I’m here. Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Is he dancing and flirting with her while her husband tracks me down this very moment?

Finally I give up and decide to grab a handful of Thomus’ old Daily Prophets and settle on the cushioned bench in the alcove of one of his windows. I sit sideways on it, my back against the wall with the door in my line of sight.

I’m about to cast a subtle illumination spell to help my poor eyesight in this dim lighting when movement out the window catches my eye. It’s the curtains billowing out of the open doors to the ball room - or the large drawing room as Narcissa calls it. Golden light spills from windows and the doorway as the guests' shadows and silhouettes move within. Some are moving swiftly as if dancing while some are mingling. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing open the French window closest to me.

I hear boisterous laughter and the low hum of chatter, and best of all, music drifts up to me like a leaf in the breeze. It’s the exact kind of music I’d imagine would play at a ball like this, and I can’t help but picture myself down there, in some pretty dress twirling around the room with Thomus.

I sit there, content to listen to the string quartet and people watch. Some come outside for the cool air, others to have a private word alone with each other.

Hermione is relatively easy to spot. Her black gown is ridiculously puffy around the skirt, but synched skin-tight in the bodice, and even from here I can see the jewels glittering on her chest. I’m surprised to see Draco by her side, dressed head to toe in white. They linger by the door, always surrounded by ladies vying for his attention. I can’t help but notice how his hand slowly caresses her back, almost… lovingly from her waist up to her shoulders and nape when he thinks no one is watching.

Thankfully, I don’t see Bellatrix, but I also don’t see Thomus, either. An inconsequential fact I try not to linger on.

I don’t know how long I sit like that, but eventually Thomus returns, quietly stepping into the room with two empty champagne glasses and a bottle.

“I kinda feel like Cinderella wanting to go to the ball,” I say softly as he approaches. He looks politely puzzled and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s just a No-Maj fairytale.”

“Ah,” he hums. He takes hold of the forgotten newspapers on the other side of the bench and raises an eyebrow.

I feel a blush creep up my throat and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I… maybe like to read your articles,” I say. “It’s crazy to think we both spent time at The Daily Prophet , but at different times so we never ran into each other.”

I feel like I’m rambling, but how could I not? He looks and smells far too dashing for me to think clearly.

“It is a bit ironic,” he says, replacing his papers where I’d gotten them from before returning. He takes up the rest of the bench, his back to the window, and places the glasses and bottle on the floor next to him.

“Do you think things might’ve been different if we’d met there instead?” I ask hesitantly, knowing all too well his opinions on ‘what if’s. “Before?”

Thomus sighs heavily and the air puffs out his cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways look. “Honestly?”

I nod. “Yeah, always.”

“Hm, I think…” his mouth downturns as he speaks, his voice betraying his amusement. “I’d find you the most annoying person on the planet.”

A disbelieving laugh bursts out. “What?!”

He nods, completely solemn. “Oh yeah, always asking questions, always bothering me.”

“Oh no, I’d have to talk to you about our job ,” I say with dramatic sarcasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face. “Oh no, what a nightmare.”

Thomus grabs my ankle, lifting my foot so he can shift closer, until my calf rests on his opposite thigh. That hand slides from my ankle all the way up my leg, and I’m disappointed it’s not under my nightgown. “It would have been an absolute nightmare to have you prance into my office every bloody day,” he continues as his fingers meet the crease at my hip and wedge themselves in. Then they keep traveling and grip all the plentiful flesh there. “I’d never be able to get any work done because I’d constantly be thinking about bending you over my desk.”

My eyes run laps over the sharp lines of his face, trying to determine if he’s serious. “Is that so?”

Thomus’ eyes drop to my mouth, his free hand brings his thumb to brush my lower lip. “These would be the worst. With every meddlesome question you ask, I’d only be able to think about how they’d taste.”

I’m holding my breath - my heart thudding, my ears burning. I’m suddenly very unnecessarily conscious of how far my glasses have slipped down my nose, the cool breeze from the window across my chest, and how heavy I’m breathing over his thumb. And for some reason his accent is doing funny things to my insides right now, of all times.

His voice is low, husky, and oh, so hot. “I’d be thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you. And yes, I say when . I could only endure such torture for so long before I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I snort, a disbelieving smile breaking out under his thumb. “You make me sound like some kind of irresistible vixen.” A chuckle rumbles out of his chest, but I keep going. “Well, I have good news for you - I wouldn’t object to any of that.”

“Is that so?” His hand caresses from my jaw to my neck.

I bite my lip to control my grin. “Well, yeah. Why do you think I’d be bothering you so much in the first place?”

Thomus lets out a breathy chuckle and sits back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I can only stare, mesmerized by seeing genuine happiness on his face.

“So,” I say brightly. “Are you enjoying this party you put so much effort into preparing?”

His smile fades. “Not as much as I ought to, I suppose.”

“Oh, why not?” I ask, placing my hand over his one on my neck, feeling along the lines of his knuckles and fingers.

“The people down there…” he starts, eyes gazing out the window, “the only thing I’ve ever been to them is a source for gossip and scandal. And then the few who look past all that see the Malfoy name and nothing else.”

I let that process. “So what you’re saying is you’re a real catch?”

He bursts out laughing, the hand from my hip reaching up to scratch his chin. “Yeah, for those desperate to social climb.”

“So you’re a desperately eligible bachelor ?” I tease with a bit more drama to my tone. “How interesting. All the finest debutantes must be lining up down there, so what ever are you doing up here with me?”

“I’m a little old for debutantes.” He settles toward me into a more relaxing position, pulling his knee up and pressing his calf onto the bench under my thighs. With his face closer to mine now, his softly spoken words are loud and clear. “And besides, your company is vastly preferable over theirs.”

My face floods with heat and I crumble under his direct eye contact. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert while I’m forced to figure out some kind of intelligent reply. “Quite shocking, really,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat, swallowing down some nerves. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with the wizarding world’s most crankiest?”

He laughs again. “Are you talking about me or them?”

I’m about to answer, but a dull tapping sound coming from the party draws my attention. The guests are returning inside, tapping their wands against their champagne glasses.

“Ten minutes to midnight,” Thomus explains. “Lucius and Narcissa are about to make their toast.”

I slip my other hand around the one he has at my neck, both of mine cradling it near my chest as I glance at the clock on his mantle. “I guess that means you have to go?”

“Probably,” he admits slowly. “But I’m here.”

“Hold on, speaking of being here, isn’t Draco supposed to be in Switzerland?” I jut in, my eyes easily finding him and Hermione on the edge of the crowd.

“He is and Lucius is absolutely furious,” he sighs. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Well, it's obvious, right?” I ask, side-eying him, unsure if this is something I could even talk about. “He’s like, really into Hermione.”

A few moments tick by in silence as I stare at the crowd below. I glance at him to see his eyes had been on me the whole time, his expression pensive. When our eyes meet, he holds them for a moment before his gaze follows his hand as both of his gently hold mine instead. He pulls back my left sleeve, his fingers lightly tracing his name inked on my skin. Then he goes further, tracing the white puckered lines of the scar Bellatrix left me.

“What’re you thinking about?” I whisper.

His lips curl ruefully. “I’m thinking about how much of a hypocrite I am. I’ve called him foolish when here I am,” he says. “Unable to stay away.”

“From what?” I breathe, feeling stupid the moment I finish. My heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can feel my pulse where he holds my arm.

Thomus’ eyes hold on my arm, avoidant of my own. His voice is soft like he's telling me a secret. “I snuck you in tonight because I couldn’t bear not spending it with you.”

My eyebrows come together and I feel my head shake. “It’s just another year.”

“No,” he says, his eyes flashing up to mine, adamant. “Moments like these are important, to spend with those who are important. That’s why they’re all gathered down there, isn’t it? To go into the New Year praising the Dark Lord’s reign, congratulating themselves for their accomplishments this year.” He looks back down at our hands, at his name. “I know I don’t have much to celebrate in that regard, but I do know that you’re important to me… and frankly I'm tired of pretending otherwise.”

I can only stare at him. Unable to think, unable to breathe . How could he say something like that?

When I finally have to draw breath after what feels like an eternity, I only get to say his name. “Thomus -”

The loud popping of fireworks bursts from below, along with some cheer that has me turning my gaze away only briefly. I turn back and Thomus’ mouth descends on mine.

The kiss is full and wonderful, but short. He pulls back inches away to search into my gaze, like he’s asking for permission, like he’s making sure what he just said was okay.

It was more than okay. It’s exactly what my heart wants to hear, even though my own stubborn insecurities push doubt into my mind.

I can’t say anything back. I can’t tell him how I feel.

But I can show him.

Our lips meet again in a rush. At least it feels like that to me, like we just can’t bare being apart anymore. I pour my heart and soul into this kiss. My hands find their way into his hair, his caress and grip every part of my body he can reach.

Soon I’m pushing him back so I can climb onto his lap. He’s pulled up my nightgown and the cool air feels amazing on my bare legs. I’ve got one foot on the floor and the other is bent at the knee, helping control my balance while I’m grinding on him.

He keeps pulling me to him, my weight rocking into him, and I brace a hand on the wall in the bay window as he falls further back, keeping me upright. His hands slip under my nightgown, roaming my thighs. I adjust my hips, feeling brave enough to put both hands on his chest to steady me. His suit pants can’t hide how hard he is. I try to use that as a reminder he’s genuinely into me. No matter how many times I’m in his lap, it’s still hard to believe he wants me here.

“How long till you have to go back?” I ask with controlled breaths.

He growls. “Just fuck me, baby.” His fingers painfully dig into my hips as he pulls me down, undulating his hips against me. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

There are things I want to blurt out, simple little words swelling in my chest that threaten to ruin everything.

But if I confess how I feel, it wouldn’t change anything. I’ll still be his prisoner. His possession.

I don’t wanna be an object. I long to be more .

My hands slide up his chest to meet at his neckline, shoving my fingers into the knot on his tie. I don’t bother pulling it all the way off before I go at his buttons, not stopping until his muscled chest and abdomen are revealed. My hips rock, rubbing my pussy over his cock straining to be let free.

Then I jump up, standing to shimmy my undies to the floor. Thomus sits up and shrugs off his suit jacket, pulling off his tie completely. I pause, waiting to return to my seat, but then he looks at me, his eyes raking me up and down.

“I want that off,” he says, referring to the only article of clothing I have left.

I struggle not to make a face, because I still have a hard time being completely naked in front of him. If we were in bed, that would be different. This just feels too exposed.

I grip the material around my hips and step toward him. “Take it off for me?” I ask.

Lust-filled eyes lock on mine and his hands go to my thighs, sliding them up my sides, taking the gown with them. I raise my arms to help him pull it off the rest of the way and a blast of cool air from the window makes goosebumps rise all over me. It sends a shiver through my body and my nipples harden.

When my arms are free, I step even closer and cup his face, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him softly, from one corner of his mouth to the other. While I distract his mouth with sweet kisses, one hand takes off my glasses and the other goes to his belt.

Of course, I can only use one brain cell at a time, so my mouth becomes distracted when I struggle with undoing his belt. I just pull my mouth away all together so I can get a visual on my hands. I glance up at Thomus’ face to find his heated gaze focused on mine.

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at the matter at hand. “Not very sexy, I know.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he says and inhales sharply when my hands finally wrap around his swollen cock. My palms glide up and down gently before giving it a firm squeeze. My thumb circles his head, spreading a bead of pre-cum, and he leans forward, lips and tongue tracing a path from my neck to my breasts. One of his big hands cups my breast and when he immediately bites down on my nipple, I gasp and whimper. His tongue soothes away the pain, swirling around the stiff peak.

His other hand slides down my thigh, fingers feeling the dimples and divots until they hook behind my knee. My hands go to his shoulders for balance as he lifts my foot until it’s on the bench. His fingers quickly glide back up my thigh, this time underneath it to where it’s most sensitive and softest.

Thomus’ lips release my nipple and he pulls back enough to see my face. “I think you’re very sexy,” he murmurs. “From this pretty little pussy of yours” - his fingers glide through my folds, teasingly spreading the slipperiness from the center to my clit - “to those lips I just can’t seem to get enough of.”

His thumb presses in on my clit and my train of thought struggles to stay on track. “You’re pretty hot too,” I say breathily. “You’ve got these shoulders and thighs and hands that just -” My words are cut off by a moan when he slips two fingers inside me.

“That just what?” he teases, unmistakably smug.

It takes me a moment to answer because his thumb in combination with his fingers curling against my g-spot have my hips rocking and my brain turning to mush. My breaths come in short pants and my eyes are pinched closed, focused on riding the pleasurable waves his fingers are orchestrating.

“Concentrate, darling,” he presses. “Answer me.”

“Hands,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “hands that do terrible… awful things to me.”

His fingers turn aggressive, pressing harder and rhythmic as he hums in approval. “That’s a good girl.”

His lips return to my nipple and that pushes me past the point of no return. A stream of curses and Thomus’ name tumble from my mouth. My toes curl and my body goes stiff as my orgasm washes over me. Thomus slows his long fingers, but still presses in hard on my g-spot as my pussy pulses around him.

When I can finally breathe again, I push at Thomus’ shoulders and he leans back, bringing his drenched digits up to his mouth. He groans at my taste and resituates himself on the bench, pushing his pants and briefs past his thighs. I’m still dazed from my orgasm when Thomus pulls me on top of him. He holds his cock at the base and guides me until he’s sliding home, deep inside my pussy.

“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes closing. This position never fails to put him as deep inside as possible, and if I really sit on his lap, he’s hitting my cervix. But that would be painful, so instead I move my hips around slowly, figuring out what angle works best and won’t kill my thighs. One particular move makes him groan and my eyes flutter open to find his locked intently on me, watching my body move. I definitely found the right one.

I start to go a little faster, a little harder. I have a hand on a window pane and the other grasping his shoulder to stabilize me. My thighs are burning, but the pain isn’t enough to make me stop. He’s inside me, and I love being connected like this. What I feel for him never feels more real than it does in moments like this. When I can’t be in denial.

With the increasing intensity of my hips, little whimpers start to tumble from my mouth alongside my panting. My bottom lip is nailed between my teeth and as I can feel my orgasm hurtling towards me, fuck is the only word coming out of my mouth.

Whenever he feels they could use more attention, his hands never fail to stray to my breasts. Supporting them as they bounce and sway, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at my nipples.

“So fucking beautiful,” I hear him grind out above the steady and erotic sound of our bodies joining.

My orgasm is close - so, so close. I’m starting to go crazed, desperate to cum again. Thomus is, too. I can hear it in his voice as he groans.

“Baby, I need you to cum on me.” His voice is strained like he’s in utter agony.

I let out a frustrated whimper as I pause to grind on his lap, hoping for an angle that hits my clit.

“I need - can you - ?” I gasp out.

I don’t even have to finish my sentence before his fingers wiggle in under my belly. My pussy’s so slippery, the pads of his fingers find the hood of my clit and press in, rubbing it in circles. My hips jerk, bouncing up and down on his cock, continuing even as my orgasm finally crashes over my body. I throw my head back as my back arches. His body stiffens below me as he cums, groaning out his pleasure.

“Beautiful darling, well done,” he pants with praise after we both have a chance to breathe, his voice shaking. “I lov-”

Thomus is abruptly cut off by loud banging on his door.

We both jump like we’ve been hit. There’s a moment where our eyes meet and I see panic cross his face just as it does on mine.

“Thomus!” a familiar man’s voice calls from beyond the door.

Thomus blinks, his expression hardening. He brings a finger up to his lips, warning me to be quiet. “Closet,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

Nodding, my legs are like jelly as I push myself off of him. He’s hastily throwing on his suit as I bend to scoop up my nightgown and undies. I dash for the closet. It’s dark enough I can just hide behind the open door. Instead of the nightgown though, I opt for my pants and hoodie. Plus a pair of Thomus’ socks while I’m at it because mine are lost in the sheets somewhere.

While I’m desperately dressing, the man at the door calls for Thomus again. “Where have you been, Thomus? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

I squeeze behind the closet door to peek through the crack between the hinges just as Thomus strides to the door. He’s fully dressed and smoothing back his hair with his fingers. He pauses to take a deep breath before opening the door.

It’s Rodolphus.

“What do you want,” Thomus demands, sounding amazingly composed.

Rodolphus leans a hand on the doorframe. “You missed your brother’s toast,” he says, a mocking lilt to his tone. His hair is disheveled, the tie to his tux hangs loose around his neck. “How could you have missed this moment to show support for the Dark Lord? Your family? ”

“I don’t answer to you,” Thomus says. He keeps his back straight and his chin up.

Rodolphus puts a finger to his chin, tapping it. “And then I remembered a few other times you’ve mysteriously disappeared from similar events,” Rodolphus continues before abruptly shoving past Thomus into the room. Thomus tries grabbing his coat tails, but he somehow avoids him.

Rodolphus stops in the middle of the room, eyeing it while slowly turning back to Thomus. He inhales heavily through his nose and steps back towards the window with the bench. “A moment ago, I was convinced you were up here fucking my wife,” he says casually. He reaches for something on it and my anxiety explodes in my chest the moment I see him pick up my glasses. “Of course, I was only half-right. This room reeks of sex, but my wife has never hid.”

Rodolphus drops my glasses and stomps on them with his shoe, crushing my lenses under his sole. The glass crunches as he turns, backing up towards the closet. Thomus watches him with furious eyes. His hands are empty, but I know in the blink of an eye he’d have his wand.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up for her since her… accident ,” Rodolphus taunts. “She’s utterly repulsing if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Thomus bites.

He’s so close to the closet. My fingers feel for anything on the shelf behind me and immediately feel the unmistakable smooth metal of Thomus’ shoehorn, the very one I tried to pummel him with.

Maybe New Year’s Eve kisses are good luck.

I raise it over my head as he steps to the doorway.

“Your silence is very telling,” Rodolphus chuckles as he slowly steps into the closet. I hear his footsteps on the wood floor as he disappears on the other side of the door.

I’ve shoved my anxiety down enough so I don’t panic as he reappears, wand scanning the room.

Just as he turns to me, I transfigure the shoehorn into a dagger, and hold it up to his throat.

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lulubelle814 · 7 months

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Just Dizziness Masterlist

Reader is watching Thor Ragnarok when you are hit with a wave of dizziness that knocks you unconscious. When you come to, you find you are in a hospital with Tom by your bedside saying he is your husband. When you shift between realities again and again, it leaves you stunned and deeply unsure of what is real.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33 - Chapter 34 - Chapter 35 - Chapter 36 - Chapter 37 - Chapter 38 - Chapter 39 - Chapter 40 - Chapter 41 - Epilogue

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kaleidescope-writes · 4 years

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Not a Fairytale--Chapter One: Twice Upon a Time

Business CEO AU

CEO!Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Materlist

Another busy day in the city. Traffic jamming the streets and the sounds of the city filled the air. It was nice, you thought. You’d gotten accustomed to the city life after living here for a few years. You’d gotten a job in the city and decided to move to a small apartment near your office. Speaking of, you continued your walk down the busy street, making your way to the building you’d been working at for four years and counting. Opening the heavy glass door, you walked in, carrying your work bag with a few essentials. You made your way to the elevator, walking through the lobby filled with busy people around you. As you approached the reception desk, Gerald, the security guard, looked up to greet you. “Good morning, Y/N!” he spoke with a joyful tone and a big smile. “Good morning Ger, have a nice day!” you replied, walking into the elevator and pressing the button for the top floor.

After a while, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out to the large room lined with windows on the left. You walked over to your reception desk and set your stuff down. Picking up a pen, you put your hair into a bun, using the pen to hold it together. Satisfied with the hold, you walked over to the door of your boss’s office, opening the door and letting yourself in. “Good morning, Ms. Grant,” you greeted the white haired, mature woman sitting behind the desk, focussed on the computer in front of her. “Good morning, Mr. L/N,” she replied, not looking up from her computer, “Are you ready for the announcement today?” “As ready as I can be, I guess,” you sighed, sitting in the chair in front of her. She finished typing and looked up at you for the first time since you walked in, “Good.” She stood up abruptly, taking her coffee cup and walking out the door. Here we go. You stood up and followed her out and to the elevator. You both got in and she pressed the button to the 21st floor. “As you know, we are currently undergoing a change in Adroitally Designs. I don’t want to tell you too much, but we will have a lot of work ahead of us for the upcoming months as we adjust,” she explained as the elevator began to move. “Great! More work! Can’t wait! What a gift, Franchesca Grant,” you said in mock happiness. She rolled her eyes, “You’re being childish. This is for the best.”

The elevator stopped and the pair of you walked out to the room full of office desks. You walked all the way to the end of the room to the conference room, all the while replying to the greetings you received from other employees. Once you reached the conference room, you opened the door for Franchesca and stepped in after her. The meeting would start in half an hour. Every Time there was an important meeting, she would bring you to the conference room to tell you about the meeting before it started. “Today’s meeting will only involve our company’s executives and such. In two days, after the party, we will hold a meeting with our future partners and begin business,” Franchesca explained. You looked at her in confusion, “Partners?” She gave you a smile.

“We’re in the process of merging with another well-known company. It’s a partnership merger, so I will still be the CEO of this branch. We will, however, have to share every big executive decision with the CEO of the company we are merging with. Fortunately, he is an exceptional person and by what I hear, he’s an absolute gentleman. I think you’d like him, Y/N.” “And what might this gentleman’s name be?” you asked curiously. “Thomas William Hiddleston.”

You were going to continue the conversation, but were interrupted by the door opening and people began to walk in.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Good Morning, Mr. Hiddleston,” someone greeted him. Tom turned around, smiling as he greeted his friend. “Hello, Ben,” he greeted with a smile. Ben caught up to him as they walked to the elevator of the building. “Ready to see your new office?” Ben asked as they walked in and pressed the 35th button. “Yes, I am. I’ve heard it’s been decorated to my liking,” he responded as the elevator began to move. The building they were in was bought recently, preparing for the expansion and merging. Tom was appointed the CEO of the new branch, with Benedict as the chief executive officer. It was a sudden change, but Tom was looking forward to everything that came with the change, uncertainty included. It was an opportunity of a lifetime and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it, despite having to move out of his home in London. He did say he wanted to see the world, this was a start.

The elevator door opened, presenting the larger room with two separate offices on either side. “Look at that,” Ben smiled, “We’re neighbors.” Tom chuckled as they walked out and made their way to their respective offices. “Don’t forget, your employees are expecting you to give a few words of encouragement as a start to their new lives,” Benedict mentioned as he walked into his office. Tom stopped momentarily, looking back at him briefly. He gave a half-smile before walking into his own office. He looked around at the large, modern office. This would be his life now. He turned to look at the books on the shelf to his left. This was going to be a great start to his new life.

“Pardon the interruption to your brooding,” Benedict spoke up, “But I was told there would be a corporate party to welcome our company tomorrow night.” Tom turned to him, interested that this was the first he’d heard of the party. “What kind of party?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “A masquerade.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Here we go!! I’ve been excited to start this one for a while!! This one is a small chapter introduction, but I promise tomorrow’s chapter will be longer. I’ll post chapter two this Saturday, so tuned for that. Anyway, I hope you liked it!! Thank you all so much for all the support!! Stay Safe, be careful, and I love you!!

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colorsunimaginable · 6 months

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

story summary:

*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: 4.1k warnings for this chapter: none, but Christmas??? if that triggers you at all

my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Six:

Christmas day starts just like any other winter day here at the cottage. Thomus and I keep each other warm under the covers at night, so in the morning the first thing I do is start the fire in the living room. Then it’s over to the kitchen to make my family’s usual Christmas day breakfast of cinnamon rolls, although I have to make them from scratch because the Wizarding World has yet to discover the magic of canned dough. I put on a Christmas compilation record, hoping it’ll put me in the holiday mood.

Thomus gets up later than I do, and he finds me shoving cookies into little Christmas themed plastic gift bags I’d found in a drawer when I first tore through the kitchen. Cookies into one bag with the cherry pie bar in one of its own, both twist-tied together.

He pours himself some coffee and rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he studies my spread. “How many of those are you making?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I only mean there’s not that many of us.”

I look down as I finish bag number 7. I’m only half way done. “Something tells me you’re forgetting the House Elves under your quote unquote ‘employ’,” I say. “I don’t want to leave them out.”

He sits down at the table, sliding his mug into the only available space. “You have a real knack for making me feel like a self-absorbed git.”

I shrug. “That, my friend, is empathy, probably laced with a bit of guilt, too.”

He snorts softly and shakes his head, raising his mug to his lips. “And a Happy Christmas to you, too.”

I give a tight-lipped smile, still not actually feeling very happy today - despite the music. “Happy Christmas.”

“Did you open your gift?” he asks, and that makes me pause.

“What gift?”

Thomus gets up from the table and brings back the box he’d placed next to the tree last night. As he hands it to me, I notice my name scribbled in a corner. I lift away the lid and pull back some tissue paper to reveal an Olympus OM-1 film camera. It’s bright and shiny, the body small in comparison to its lens.

I slowly run a finger over the silver plating and glance up at him shyly. He's patiently watching me, waiting for a response, and I'm anxious because I'm not quite sure how to respond. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t be,” he says quickly, seeming genuine. “There isn’t much you could give me.” He nabs my favorite cookie, popping it into his mouth, and groaning after a few chews. “Actually you should make me a batch of these.”

I can’t help but let out a small smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He stretches an arm to the island counter, where the cinnamon rolls are, and plucks one off the plate. “I got an owl from Astor this morning. He’s invited us to a gathering tomorrow.”

“A gathering?”

Thomus nods, taking a bite. “You know, for Christmas. A small one.”

I internally sigh. “I’m assuming he wants me to serve?”

“No, actually. According to his letter, you’re a regular guest.”

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief and my tone doesn’t betray any actual excitement. “How nice.”

~*~

When I get ready for Christmas dinner at the Manor, I make sure to cover the dark veiny lines around my eyes with foundation underneath my winged eyeliner. Thomus said he told Narcissa that I had my sight and voice again, but I’m not sure how much truth she actually has.

I dress in a burgundy blouse with an open black sweater and meet Thomus on the landing. He’s wearing a black suit jacket with a dark green sweater underneath. I don’t resist my urge to reach out and touch the fabric. It’s soft and feels so good on his chest, especially when I snake my arms under his jacket and press my cheek to it in a hug. His arms go around my shoulders and squeeze me against him. I breathe in his apt smell of pine and cedar.

I don’t feel so alone when I’m hugging him, listening to him breathe and his heartbeat steadily under my ear.

“Darling?” he murmurs after an admittedly very long moment.

“Hm?” I hum without moving an inch.

“Narcissa doesn’t easily forgive tardiness.”

I sigh, letting out the faintest whine before pulling away. “Okay.”

Before we leave, I dig through my backpack for my little bag of jewelry. It mostly holds my stretchy plastic chokers, but I pull out a silver locket. It’s small and oval with a floral design etched onto the front. Thomus doesn’t question me about it as he watches me put it on.

When we step into the Manor, I feel a little awkward with the basket full of Christmas treats. I’ve never been good at gift-giving. My anxiety tends to tell me that whatever gift I’ve thought of, won’t be good enough. But those thoughts vanish when we meet Narcissa in a small dining room. After a hug in greeting, her face lights up when I give her a bag of the baked goods.

“Thank you, dear,” she gushes. “You baked these yourself? They look delicious.”

I pull another out and set it on the table for Hermione. “I’m going to visit the kitchen.” I don’t look at either of them and book it out the door before Thomus can protest. I find the elves hard at work, busy completing the finishing touches for our dinner.

“Miss!” Mippy says, bouncing over to me in the doorway. “Happy Christmas, Miss!”

I smile down at her and hold up the basket. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Mippy. I baked for you guys.”

Mippy lets out a delirious squeal and her voice shakes like she’s going to cry. “M-miss b-aked for M-mippy? And Remmy? And -”

“Yes,” I blush, a bit flustered by such a reaction as I place the basket on their table. “There’s a bag for everyone.”

Murmurs of excitement burst around the room and Mippy’s the loudest of them all. “Miss is so kind and generous and thoughtful -”

“I hope you enjoy them,” I say quickly, and send a smile to the room without making too much eye contact. “See y’all later.”

Hermione's arrived when I return to the dining room and we pull each other into a big hug.

Dinner is an almost somber affair. Thomus and I sit next to each other, while Hermione is across from me and Narcissa is at the end of the table. Not for the first time, I can tell Narcissa’s putting on a smile for us and as I eye her, I notice her clothes fit a little looser than they had the last time I saw her.

“Have you heard from Draco at all?” I ask her, hoping it’s not too sensitive of a topic. Immediately her face saddens and I regret ever speaking.

She answers me anyway. “The last correspondence I received from him personally was to inform me he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. The Dark Lord anticipates an attack on Zurich in the new year, so he and a select few have been asked to remain on guard.”

“I’m sorry he can’t be here,” I say. “It must be really hard without both of them.”

“I do miss them terribly,” she says, a tear beading in her eye. “However -” She reaches over and grabs my hand from my lap and covers Hermione’s on her other side. “I’m grateful to have all of you here.”

I squeeze her hand in return, nodding. “It’s a nice little… distraction,” I say, and speaking of… “Thomus told me you’re planning a New Year’s Eve party?”

This new topic launches both her and Thomus into a tangent, the kind that feels as if I’ve just popped in during the middle of a conversation. There’s something about a particular pureblood seamstress being booked up, or the elves having trouble procuring ingredients for certain dishes that before the war would have been readily available. Then there’s the matter of security - of which Thomus is taking the lead. Apparently with so many Death Eaters and their ‘elite’ society in one place, guests have expressed concerns about being vulnerable to an attack. Hermione and I sit in silence, absorbing all of this information.

“Thankfully we don’t have to secure the perimeter for the Lots,” Thomus comments. “I don’t even want to think about the logistics for that feat. We only have you two to worry about that night.”

I nearly choke on my apple cider. “I’m going?” Then I look at Hermione and gesture between us. “We’re going?”

When I bring my eyes to Thomus, he looks hesitant. “Granger is yes,” he says. “We believe it best to have her out in plain view where we can keep an eye on her.”

I nod. “Okay, yeah, sure, but what does that have to do with me?”

“On that particular issue, Thomus and I disagree,” Narcissa says, giving him a stern look. “But the issue is tabled for now, especially on Christmas.”

“If it makes a difference, I don’t think I’d like to go,” I say with an apology on my face. “I’m sure it’s going to be very grand, but if I have the option…” I shake my head.

Narcissa smiles at me and lifts her gaze to Thomus. “I believe you have your answer.”

My eyes turn to Thomus as well, curious. He meets them briefly before dropping them down to his dinner plate. His mouth is turned down in a sour expression before a muscle in his jaw ticks and the look is gone. Why does he want me to go?

I take another sip of my drink, desperately wishing it was spiked with something.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” Narcissa says and my eyes bounce up to Hermione before I realize she’s talking to me. “Is it a locket?”

Reflexively my fingers go up to the locket, feeling the texture of the design. I give a soft smile and nod. “A friend of mine gave it to me a few years back.” My other hand comes up to pry it open, careful not to touch the tiny portraits inside. “It’s a picture of that friend and my family.”

“That’s lovely,” Narcissa murmurs when I press it closed with a little snap.

My throat feels tight and I try to swallow around the lump in it. “Yeah,” I croak, my breaths suddenly shaky and loud. I speak softly to hide the emotion in my voice. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you have nothing to apologize for, dear,” she says. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen them, I take it?”

I nod and sniffle. “Yeah, about… three years, I think.” I force myself to take a steady deep breath and plaster a smile on my face. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. You know how it is.”

She nods, looking ready to ask more, but I interject with, “Is there still a lot to do for the party?”

If she can tell I purposefully changed the subject, she doesn’t show it. Narcissa launches into a whole list of tasks she and Thomus have left. I try to focus on what she says, but if I’m being honest, it just goes in one ear and out the other.

While she speaks, Thomus slides his hand over to the one in my lap. His hand is a bit cold and I turn my palm up to clasp his fingers between mine.

~*~

After dinner, we walk back out to the main hall. Thomus and Narcissa are discussing their immediate plans for the Gala while Hermione and I trail behind them. I loop my arm under hers and slow our pace.

“How’s your research been going?” I ask, my voice low.

Her brown eyes are alight with excitement. “I believe I’ve cracked it.”

I squeeze her arm, angling my body towards her. “Really? That’s awesome.”

“I’m ready to run tests, only…” she looks down, then up at Narcissa and Thomus, ensuring they’re paying us no attention, before leaning in to whisper, “Would you happen to have your wand?”

Regret rises from my belly and spreads all over my face. “No, I don’t.”

She sighs, disappointed. I am, too. “I saw you had your necklace, so I’d hoped -”

“I know,” I murmur. “I thought he’d go through my bag, so I left it in my vault. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

Hermione tilts her head. “Does he know your necklace is a…?”

I shake my head.

“So was it you or Thomus who broke the curse?”

“Well, technically it’s not broken,” I explain as we come to our destination. I keep her close and whisper. “Its effects are just being suppressed by my magic. The suppression potions don’t work on me anymore.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? That would -”

“Alder, let’s go,” Thomus calls from across the room. “We have one more stop to make.”

I sigh heavily and give him a look, he’s standing by the front door. “Really? On Christmas?”

“Especially,” he snaps. “Let’s go.”

I pull Hermione into a hug. “We’ll figure it out, okay?’

She nods and hugs me back before we let go. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

I rush through a goodbye to Narcissa, feeling pressured as Thomus stands with his hands in his pockets.

We get outside and I shiver, not prepared for the frigid air. “You couldn’t have told me we were going somewhere else? I don’t have a jacket.”

It’s dark out, so I don’t see him pull out his wand and summon his cloak. He settles it around my shoulders and I pause, knowing he’s going to expect to fasten the clasp himself as he usually does.

“It’s like I have you trained,” he remarks once he finishes and pulls the hood over my head.

“Well, what can I say? You’re getting predictable,” I tease.

Thomus chuckles as his palms encase my cheeks, holding me still as his mouth descends on mine. His quick kiss tastes of the coffee he had with our pumpkin pie dessert.

~*~

Thomus Apparates us to a secluded woodsy spot behind a playground. It’s snowing here and there’s already a blanket of it covering the ground. With the snow and street lamps, it’s not quite as dark as the Manor. Thomus takes my hand and guides me down a residential street that branches off with rows and rows of identical townhomes. When I think of searching for a street name, in an attempt to discern where we are, the only one I see is Privet Drive - which tells me nothing.

He pauses under a street lamp with a bus stop and a phone booth. It’s not the classic London version, but a more modern design with unpainted metal and long window panes.

“I assume you know how to operate one of these,” he says, his hand disappearing into his pocket. He pulls out a small leather pouch and places it in my hand.

“The bus stop?” I ask incredulously.

His hand comes up to the back of my elbow as he steers me towards the booth. “No, the telephone.”

My heart begins to race. “W-what? Why?”

He reaches for the handle of the collapsible door and pushes it aside. “To call home.”

I turn to face him, nearly panting with shock. “What?”

“Consider it a Christmas gift,” he says. I feel his hand at my back, urging me inside, but I plant my feet.

“Just like that?” I ask. “No conditions?”

“I assume you know the obvious one.” He gives me a stern look, meeting eyes. “Don’t give any hints or clues about your… reality.”

I press my lips together and nod, trying not to panic about what I’m even going to say.

I step inside the booth and Thomus closes the door, leaving it open a few inches as he leans against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets.

With shaking fingers, I start pulling out the No-Maj coins from the pouch he handed me. Calls to the US are expensive, so I put in every single one. I pick up the handset and press the cold plastic to my ear, listening to the slightly deeper dial tone. I’ve only had to do this once, when I first arrived and my phone didn’t work.

With a deep breath, I punch in the numbers and wait.

It rings and rings. My eyes wander around the booth, taking in the area code poster and emergency numbers, some call for a good time markings up the metal frame. I should’ve known they won’t pick up the phone for a number they don’t recognize.

But then there’s a click and I hear my mother’s voice. “Melisa?”

My throat is tight again and I force myself to breathe out. “Hi, Mom.”

“I wondered who else could be calling today - already had a chat with your Aunt Susan, and with grandma passing away last year - as soon as it said Surrey, I knew,” she says. Fat tears spring to my eyes just listening to her talk, hearing her voice. I put my hand over the receiver as I fight for control over my sobs. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, honey.”

I sniffle and force deep breaths, making sure my voice won’t shake before I pull my hand away. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. My phone shattered and no one I’m around uses them and I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it. I’m calling from a payphone near my apartment. What time is it there? I’m not calling too late, am I?”

“Oh no, it’s only about 7 o’clock here. Your brother and I have just been watching the new Doctor Who season - “

“Is that Melisa?” I hear my dad say in the background.

“Yes, dear. Your dad wants to talk to you, Melisa.”

“Okay,” I say. I hear her attempt to pass the phone, but my dad mumbles something about putting the phone on speaker.

“Hey, Melisa! How are ya'?” he says and my heart squeezes hearing the excitement in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” I say, repeating the same spiel.

“That newspaper must be working you like a dog if you can’t find time to call your dear old Dad,” he says and I manage to chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m crazy busy, but I love it.”

“Well that’s good. They paying you enough? They should, for all that hard work you’re doin’.”

“Yes, Dad, I’m doing just fine,” I say. “How’ve you been? How’s Ben?”

“I’m doin’ alright,” he says. He starts listing various projects he’s had to work on about the house and the latest issue with my mom’s truck, something about the transmission. I use the time to focus on calming my shaking breaths.

I hear Ben’s voice give a faint “Hi, Melisa”.

“He’s almost saved enough for that down payment on the house he’s been looking at,” my dad says for him.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “What kind of house?”

My brother definitely responds, but he’s talked over by an electronic voice announcing I have one minute left.

“I have to go,” I say, failing to keep the sadness out of my voice. “I used all my coins.”

“Well, Merry Christmas, honey,” Mom says.

“And we miss you,” my dad chimes in. “You need to call us more.”

“I’ll try, but it might be a while,” I admit. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Mom says. “Talk to you lat -”

The call ends and slowly I put the handset back in its place. Mentally I’d been transported back home - I could picture my parents sitting in their usual spots at the kitchen table, my brother on the couch in the family area. If you stand in the right spot, you can see down to the living room through the kitchen, the Christmas tree all aglow. I can see every detail in my mind’s eye and the overwhelming longing to be home brings a fresh round of tears. My hand comes up to cover my mouth as I let out a silent sob.

Once the emotion has been poured out of me, I feel raw, but… better. I use the sleeve of my sweater to dab at my eyes, knowing my makeup is probably ruined regardless. When I turn back to Thomus, I find him watching me with a wary expression.

“Okay!” I say brightly, pushing back the door. “We can go.”

Wordlessly, he grabs my hand and we Apparate on the spot.

~*~

We get back to the cottage and I immediately go to the kitchen, cranking on the record player. I'm finally in the mood for music and have just enough energy to make the batch of cookies Thomus asked for.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me and bombard me with a bunch of questions, which I honestly half-expected of him.

Singing along to every Christmas song that plays, I don’t pause until the last tray of cookies are in the oven and the dishes have been washed. When I pass through the living room, I spot Thomus on the couch, leaning against the back cushions with his eyes closed. I run upstairs to take off my pants and bra, getting ready to settle in for the night.

Just as I finish brushing my teeth, the timer goes off and I rush downstairs to pull out the last tray. Once they’re on the racks to cool, I shut off the music and return to the living room.

Thomus hasn’t moved. The fire is going and with the kitchen light off, the only other light is coming from the tree. Hesitantly I step closer to him, wondering if he might be asleep, but notice his face isn’t exactly relaxed.

Acting on pure impulse, I crawl onto his lap. He stirs when he feels my legs straddle his, eyes fluttering open in surprise to watch me. I support my weight with my hands on the back of the couch, gently lowering myself until my front is fully pressed against him. He lifts his head as I close my arms around his shoulders and smoosh my face against the side of his. I’m hyper aware of how much bigger I am than him, so I refrain from relaxing completely.

After a moment, his body softens beneath mine and he lets out a long sigh. His arms go around my waist and he hugs me tightly, hips flexing down enough so they’re nestled perfectly between my thighs. Slowly I relax, tension lifting from my body.

“I’m not too heavy, right?” I ask softly, almost shyly, in his ear.

His face moves side to side, nuzzling his nose by my ear. “No, this is…” He runs his hands down my back, smoothing around the curve of my hips down to my thighs before gliding them back up my sides, caressing my rolls. “I love this.”

His sincerity makes my heart soar. It makes me feel so whole, so completely accepted physically. My grip around him tightens, not wanting to let go. I can’t deny how well our bodies just… fit.

“Thank you for my Christmas presents,” I murmur. “This wasn’t… the worst Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Hm,” he replies thoughtfully, his lips nestled against my neck. “Hasn’t been too bad for me either, come to think of it.” His hands travel to my undie-covered ass where he squeezes hard and gives it a little shake. “And look at you, a present already half-way unwrapped.”

One of his hands shoots to the underside of my foot, dancing his fingers along it. My leg jerks and I let out a sudden squeal, trying to push myself away from him. He’s quick though, one arm latches around my waist to keep me sealed against him even as I wiggle in his lap. I’m laughing, smiling so hard my cheeks already hurt.

I’m breathless and only manage to say his name like a plea. By the time I break free of his hold, he’s grinning too as I swing myself off of his lap to collapse on my back in the remaining space of the couch.

His hooded eyes are locked onto the space between my thighs and I only have a moment before he pounces. Thomus settles between my legs and spends the rest of Christmas slowly unwrapping me as if I really am his present.

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colorsunimaginable · 10 months

Text

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

story summary:

*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: 4k warnings for this chapter: cunnilingus, squirting

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Two:

“Did it work?”

God, his voice. Rich, deep, smooth baritone.

After the initial shock that left me frozen, my throat tightens and my face flashes with heat as I try to blink away tears. I sniffle, and the fact that I can hear it forces another crack into the dam.

Footsteps barely register as I quickly raise my fingers to my ear and snap.

Sweet, sweet relief spreads from my chest as the sound comes in clear and tears finally cascade down my cheeks, my face crinkling from the emotion.

Someone kneels in front of me. Strong, warm hands clasp mine tightly in my lap.

“Are you alright?” Thomus presses, his lovely voice close now, in front of me. “Does something hurt? Are you feeling ill?”

I work the muscles in the back of my throat, trying to use my voice, but I don’t think that’s working yet. So I just sniffle again and shake my head.

He brings the backs of my fingers to his lips, trailing kisses over my knuckles. “Then why are you crying?”

I pull my hand from his and fingerspell.

“Happy?” he asks hesitantly and I nod. I point to myself, to my ear, and then to him, barely keeping the smile off my face as my fingers touch his chest. He squeezes my hand before I feel him turn. “H.S.?”

More footsteps approach. “Are you hearing any sort of ringing, dear?”

I recognize the voice as belonging to the Healer he brought me to, Hippocrates Smethwyck. There’s a roughness to it I hadn’t noticed when I first met him, like he smokes. I shake my head in response to his question.

“Muffled sound?”

No.

“Are our words slurring?”

No.

“Any sounds dis –“

“What about her other senses, Rakepick?” Thomus demands, interrupting Smethwick.

An unfamiliar voice joins in from farther away, whom I’m assuming is Rakepick. “As I’ve stated before, the curse Lestrange cast on her is one of his own making,” the man bites out, clearly annoyed.

“So you say,” Thomus snaps back.

“So the evidence says,” Rakepick replies. “The evidence you have given me.” The distinct sound of heels upon hardwood begin from the direction where Rakepick’s voice is coming from. He’s pacing. “His blood was absorbed into her skin. There isn’t a simple counter curse for blood magic. You should consider yourself lucky she’s otherwise unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” Thomus hisses. He stands, turning away from me. “Losing vital senses is what you consider to be unharmed?”

The man’s pacing stops. “Absolutely,” Rakepick states. “She is not dead nor is she actively dying.”

“What else can be done?” Smethwyck cuts in, his tone calmest of the three.

Rakepick sighs. “At this point I’ve exhausted all I can think of. If I attempt to restore her sight or voice, she could lose her hearing again. Or worse.”

“Worse?” comes Thomus’ voice. It’s calmer now, almost… fearful?

Thomus? Afraid?

There’s a pause. “Restoring more than one of the senses she’s lost might trigger a failsafe. I’ve seen it happen with tombs in Egypt and Syria. When the first line of defense fails, a secondary measure takes its place to ensure maximum security.”

“What does that mean for a living being?” Smethwyck asks.

“I’m afraid that since we were able to bypass a part of his curse restoring her hearing, if we attempted to restore another…“ Rakepick hesitates again, “the true effects of the curse would be revealed.”

Someone – Thomus, I believe – starts stomping around, his breaths coming in quick and sharp. “So there’s nothing to be done?” he demands.

“Whatever your next attempt, it should be to rid her of the curse entirely.”

The somber finality of his words settles across the room. Heavy. Suffocating.

I close my eyes, focusing on deep breaths. My chest is so tight with anxiety that it’s painful. My dull fingernails dig into my wrist, distracting me from the dizzying emotional pain. It clears my head enough to shove some positivity in its place.

I can’t say for sure which of the senses I’d rather have gotten back. Hearing or seeing both would come with their own set of problems. I’m sure if I could talk I’d just be talking into the void, as per usual embarrassing myself.

Getting my hearing back isn’t so bad. After all, I can hear Thomus’ voice right? I can listen to music. Maybe communicating won’t be so difficult anymore. At least it’s something, and I’m grateful for it.

“I best be off then,” Rakepick announces softly. He begins walking, sounding like he’s going to pass me.

I blindly reach my hand out, grabbing his arm. He stops abruptly, turning towards me. The tips of my fingers come to my lips, and I move my flattened hand slightly downwards in his direction. My mouth moves around the silent words.

“She’s thanking you,” Thomus says quietly.

Rakepick takes the hand on his arm and puts it in his, shaking it. “Good luck.”

“I best be off as well, Thomus,” Smethwyck says.

Rakepick releases my hand and the pair of footsteps retreat from the room. Their voices along with a familiar female one, come from what I assume is the hallway, and then there’s a soft knocking.

“How did it go?” Narcissa’s voice asks, her heels click on the floor as she approaches. Her tone is hesitant, prepped for the news to be good or bad.

I grin and wave in the direction I think she is, before pointing to my ear. I repeat the same simple signs I used with Thomus earlier.

“You can hear me? Oh, that’s just wonderful!” I can sense the smile on her face just from her voice. “It must be such a relief.”

I just smile and nod.

“Aren’t you pleased, Thomus?” she asks, doubt in her voice. There must be something on his face. It makes my own smile falter.

“I’m downright cheerful, can’t you tell?” he replies acidly.

“What did the Curse-Breaker say?”

Thomus starts striding towards me. “Nothing good.” His hand clasps my elbow and he pulls me to my feet. “I’ll discuss it with you later.” My hands go around his arm as he starts guiding me – to the door, I assume.

“You’re leaving?” Narcissa asks, following behind.

“I’m going to take her to the cottage for a few days,” Thomus replies. His tone is biting – still annoyed. “I want to keep her under surveillance, make sure there won’t be any delayed reactions.”

“Alright,” she relents. “Make sure to bring her here if you have to leave for an extended period of time.” My chest warms hearing her concern for me and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.

After a walk down to wherever, he pauses to grab my arm, where I know the tattoo is. We step forward and I feel hot flames lick at my ankles for a moment before it’s gone, the padding under my shoes softer. When I breathe in through my nose, I recognize the familiar scent of the cottage.

Thomus still holds my arm, but I pull it out of his grasp when I turn to him. Stretching up onto my toes, I slip my arms over his shoulders, pulling him tight against me. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me to him just as tightly. A heavy sigh escapes as I relish the comfort and safety of his embrace.

After a long moment, his grip loosens but I hold firm, not wanting it to end. When he realizes that, he refastens his arms. As my cheek presses into his neck, my nose getting tickled by his growing beard, he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Missed me?” he murmurs.

I sigh again and pull back, bringing a hand up so he can see my thumb and forefinger hover centimeters away from each other.

He releases a sharp, amused exhale. “A little?”

I nod and pull him back into my hug, squeezing tighter than before, then release him. Sensing what he’s going to ask me next, I point to myself and fingerspell, feel fine.

“Reading minds now?” he asks.

I shrug and turn towards the rest of the room. With my arms outstretched, I feel the armrest of the couch, the chair with the tv, and then nothing as I slowly make my way across the room. Luckily, there’s no vases for me to knock over here. One hand finds the base of the stair railing, and the other feels for the doorway to the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Thomus asks, his voice close behind.

I shake my head, turning it to show him the W I make at my lips.

“Hm, thirsty.” His hands are on my shoulders and he guides me forward until my stomach presses into the island counter. I hear him move around the kitchen, opening a cabinet and the fridge, water pouring into a glass. Then he takes my wrist and places the cup in my hand.

As I’m drinking, a swooshing comes from the back door before familiar meows and loud purring erupt, moving towards me. Soft fur weaves its way around my legs as Caelan greets me with head-butts. I put down the glass and crouch, scooping Caelan’s cat Animagus in my arms. My cheek nuzzles his while I scratch the back of his head.

Over Caelan’s purring, I hear Thomus sigh. “Just when I thought I had you all to myself.”

A soundless chuckle shakes my shoulders and a bit reluctantly, I put Caelan on his feet.

I assume Thomus is looking at me and so I start to sign. Palms up, I move them side to side in front of me and fingerspell symptoms.

“Symptoms of what?” he asks.

I point to him and spell said delayed reactions.

I know this isn’t complete or proper sign language. When I fingerspell I make sure to keep my pace steady and let my hand go limp at the wrist between words. I do it this way because I definitely don’t remember every sign I need, nor does anyone I’m talking to know sign language – especially American sign language.

“Oh, right,” Thomus murmurs. I hear him step closer to where I lean against the counter. “I might’ve fibbed about that.”

My eyebrows come together as I make a face, showing him the letter Y.

His forearm brushes my hand on the counter as he leans on it, his hand sliding along my waist. I wait a long moment for him to respond, and when he doesn’t, I start signing again.

I sign where, point to him, and spell been.

“Where I normally am, tracking,” he easily replies.

Who?

“Who else?” he says, as I should already know the answer. Which I suppose I do.

I feel Caelan still rubbing along legs and try to find the bravery to voice questions I’ve been dying to know. Caelan will just have to wait.

My pointer finger finds Thomus’ chest, then I spell let Rodolphus take, and I point back to myself. My anger and frustration about it come through when I point back at him and emphasize my letters, let.

His hand at my waist rises as he steps closer, rounding the corner separating us. I sign why as his other hand cradles my cheek. He lets out a heavy breath and touches his forehead to mine.

“I thought he wouldn’t try anything with Lucius there,” he murmurs, his tone laced with anguish. “With me there.” He inhales sharply, his chest rising unevenly beneath my hands. “I’m doing everything within my power to make things right.”

One of my hands slides up his chest to his face, my fingers running through the longer length of his beard.

“I’m sorry,” comes his soft admission. Sincere, vulnerable.

I bite my lip, struggling with a sudden tightness in my throat. Even if I had my voice, I’d still be at a loss for words. Who knew a simple apology would make me so emotional?

He shifts his head back and he glides his thumb across the lip between my teeth, making me release it. The next breath I take is shaky too, and turns into a gasp when he leans in to kiss me. It starts out sweet and tender, but gradually heats up when his hands start down a familiar path along my body. Our panting fills my ears, and when I bite his lip he groans, pulling me tighter against him.

Thomus digs his fingers into my hips, his own rolling his hardened length against my stomach. I release a breathy sigh, mimicking his movements, my fingers finding home in his hair. His thigh presses between my legs, right against that spot that really wants more pressure. I tilt my head back as his mouth latches onto my neck, biting down over my pulse. When he sucks at it, my hips grind down against his thigh, the pleasure combo dizzying.

A mildly distracting thought pops up in the back of my mind: I hope Caelan has left, having put two and two together to see I’m not available to talk.

Thomus brings me right back into the moment with his hot breath at my ear.

“Upstairs,” he growls. “I need my mouth on your cunt.”

When I don’t react, my mind blanking at how fucking dirty his words are, he slaps me on the butt and orders, “Now.”

I leap out of his arms, biting my lip in an attempt to keep the giggly grin off my face. I’d absolutely hate to ruin the moment.

With my arms outstretched, it’s a short distance to the doorway, then to the stairs where I leap up them faster than I normally would have. All I can picture is him chasing me up the stairs, right at my heels.

Which, funnily enough, is not far from the truth as I reach the top and my split second indecision on which room to use makes him guide me to the right, to his room.

“Take your clothes off before I rip them off,” he barks from behind me. I stride into the room and stop when I meet the foot of the bed. I turn to face him, my hands on the hem of my shirt, before I decide against that, bending to untie my shoes first. He groans almost painfully, hopefully at the sight of my ass in the air and my cheeky work-around to his demand.

I hear his clothes landing somewhere as I straighten. Hands back at the hem of my shirt, I lift it over my head while toeing at the heels of my shoes to kick them off. I fling the shirt somewhere on the floor and quickly roll my leggings to the floor, kicking them off as well. I think I’m wearing one of the matching lacey sets today.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines when I’m upright, my hands going around to undo my bra. Before I can he shoves me back onto the bed, where I land with a heavy bounce. “That’s good enough.”

His hands slide along my thighs, rounding my knees and pushing them open. I lean back on my elbows and try to imagine his face as he hums in approval. His thumb runs down the very damp crotch of my undies.

“You’re wet, aren’t you?” he says, and I nod. “Show me.”

Shifting onto one elbow, I let my fingers glide down to my pussy, rubbing myself over the material. My fingers find the lacey edge of the panties, slipping beneath it without exposing myself. God, I’m soaked. The slick wet sounds reach my ears as I move my arousal around, circling my clit. My teeth sink into my lip and my eyes close as the pleasure spreads.

“Look at you,” he breaths, his words slow. “Such a tease.”

In addition to my own noises, I can hear his hand pumping his cock, and I marvel at the rush of confidence I feel.

Maybe it’s because I can’t see myself. Maybe it’s because I can only picture what he sees – some glorified, sensual version of myself that’s a stranger to me.

I can’t see him, but I think I enjoy being watched. My body – and what I was doing to it – a magnet for his eyes. All of my flaws don’t exist, because to him they were never flaws in the first place.

I slip a single finger inside my wet warmth, gasping when the pad presses against my g-spot, and that’s when he breaks.

His hands grapple for the waistband at my hips, hooking his fingers in and yanking them down. I hear some threads snap under his eager aggression as the material pulls from under my butt.

I’m not too far from the edge, so when he kneels, his face is right over my cunt. His breaths are hot and heavy before he buries the lower half of his face between my legs.

What would’ve been a moan escapes me in a rush as the rest of my back falls to the bed. His tongue sweeps through my folds, tasting me before lapping at my clit. The noises coming from him feasting on me is utterly obscene. His soft and wiry facial hair rubs at my bear cunt as his jaw works his tongue, adding extra sensitivity to the area.

As he laps repeatedly at my clit, my hips are already rocking, pushing against his face. My fingers clutch the comforter beneath me so hard they ache.

I feel his hand brush over mine as he slides an arm around my leg. My inner thigh presses against the side of his face, cradling his head. His hands destination is my fupa, which he grabs closest to my cunt, and pulls it back. This exposes my clit more and I feel it briefly tingle in the cold air before his lips descend, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.

My jaw drops and my hips jerk at the sensation. If I was in my right mind, I’d be embarrassed he’d had to move a shameful part of me, a part of me I hate. However, the way his mouth is enthusiastically devouring me has me delirious and obviously not in my right mind.

Thomus momentarily gives mercy to my clit so his tongue can dip down to my hole, where his other fingers are holding my lips spread wide. His tongue swirls circles over it, building up aching, anticipating pleasure. I flex my muscles down there when his tongue penetrates me and he moans.

His mouth pulls away from me, I’d whine at the loss, but I can tell he’s hovering from his heavy breaths blowing over me. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, first one, then two. I get the sense he’s watching his work, slowly pushing them in, stretching me out. He sinks them deep, up to his knuckles, turning them up so he can press along the top ribbed wall of my cunt as he slides them out. He repeats the motion and this time my walls clench as he pulls them out.

A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Look at you,” he says again, even slower this time, his voice gravelly and hot, melting my insides while sending shivers across my skin. Underneath the cups of my bra, my nipples harden into stiff peaks. “Such a greedy little pussy, begging to be filled. Merlin, you’re so wet.”

He moans again before shifting, mouth returning to my clit. His tongue and fingers work in tandem. My free leg plants its foot on the edge of the bed to push against his face, like what he’s already giving me just isn’t enough.

Without releasing my clit, the hand holding back my fupa lets go to find my clenched hand on the bed. He tugs at my wrist until I let go and he guides my hand to the crest of his head. His fingers press on the back of my hand, encouraging me to grab hold of his hair. I grip his hair and he covers my hand, using it to push his face further into me.

Oh.

With his mouth on my clit, his fingers inside me, pushing just inside my aching desperate hole, and now control over his fucking head, I know I’m this close to losing it. My hand holds his head in place while my hips grind and thrust against him. His tongue flattens and his fingers still, pressing harder against my g-spot while I fuck his face.

My legs are trembling, my back is bowed, and I can hardly breathe. All of my instincts are telling me to release, to let of this overwhelming pressure.

So I do. I let go and I cum so hard I’d have screamed if I had my voice.

My eyes are in the back of my head, my mind so gone I’m barely aware of the sudden rush of wetness flooding my pussy. It flows down over my ass and to the bed where I can feel it soaking. Thomus is moaning, his tongue retreated back to his mouth as he gapes, panting. My hold on his head relaxes, my brain finally registering how fucking wet I sound as Thomus continues to rub my g-spot.

Then his mouth is on me again, sucking my clit so abruptly that I cum again. This time I’m acutely aware of the literal waterfall of liquid coming from me as his fingers move in and out. It’s so fucking hot that it draws out a third wave, less intense, but the orgasm still has my body jerking, helpless to the pleasure.

When I’m finally spent, I manage to pull Thomus away. Though my body feels as though all my bones have melted away, I sit up, bringing Thomus’ mouth to mine. His face is sticky, beard soaked through like he’d spilled water on himself. My hands run over his shoulders, one down his… damp forearm, and the other to his cock.

I expect to find it hard and aching, but when I reach for him, he’s soft. Still sticky and warm, but soft.

The discovery makes my kiss falter, confusion and guilt settling over my face.

Thomus doesn’t let those emotions last because he presses his forehead to mine, a soothing chuckle comes from his chest.

“What can I say?” he murmurs. “I really liked you squirting on my face.”

My eyes widen and he guides my hand to the bed. Down just over the edge, where it’s still wet from me, there’s a separate, globby mess there.

I just sit there in dazed disbelief at the realization that I squirted on his face and he came from it. A full, actual orgasm.

Wow.

He pulls back, sitting on his heels I assume, because his hands glide over my thighs. “Have you ever done that before?” he asks. “Squirted?”

My head feels light as I shake my head. My lips slightly pucker, repeating the word wow.

Wow wow wow.

Lazily, I reach back and finally undo my bra. It slips off my arms and Thomus’ hands immediately cup my breasts. His thumbs roll over my nipples and he leans forward, kissing my shoulder and then my cheek.

“I hope you’re ready to do that again,” he says, hunger still evident in his voice, “except with me inside you.”

I can’t help the smile that breaks out across my face. My face had finally started to cool, but now a new blush heats my skin. I push at his shoulders and shake my head. He pulls back and my hand is up, spelling naptime.

He outright laughs and the sound is music to my ears, filling my chest with… affection. For him.

“I suppose I did wear you out today,” he muses.

I nod, pulling his hand as I scoot further up the bed. He follows, crawling in after me. I settle on my back, utterly exhausted. He drapes himself over me with his head on my shoulder.

Thank god for sleep. It means I can push off analyzing the budding problematic emotions within me for just a little while longer.

bonjour bonjour! y'all are getting this chapter sooner than ao3 today. i realized I never properly announced this, but my posting schedule has changed. i'm now updating every other Monday. if you've made it this far into my fic thank you from the bottom of my heart. as always, let me know what you think! reblogs and comments are much appreciated. enjoy 💕

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