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Jeddah 2024 | Ollie getting distracted by Prema cheering for him during the drivers' parade
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happy womens day to everyones favorite woman
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Hey I saw you're still taking requests... what about a batman x reader where the justice league meets his wife (the reader) by accident? And maybe they're shocked because he's so secretive and she's really sweet and just the total opposite of him. Feel free to ignore if this doesn't sound interesting to you. I love your writing 💗
Hey! I love this prompt, thanks for sending it in :) I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's okay!
Bruce Wayne x spouse!gn!reader. No warnings, just Bruce being a little shit (and a sweet hubby).
****
You press your palm to the reader at the entrance of the Cave and jog down the stairs, talking all the way.
"Honey, Alfred and I are going to..."
Six superhero faces stare back at you. Bruce is in the cowl, expression hard to parse. Your brows rise.
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know B had company. I'll leave you to it," you say, beginning to back up the stairs.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Green Lantern. You can't tell through the mask lenses, but you think he might be zeroed in on the ring on your left hand. "Uh, Spooky? Something you wanna tell us?"
You freeze on the steps. Bruce looks at you, then crosses the Cave in a few long strides. He stops next to you.
Sorry, you mouth at him. He shakes his head and reaches out to squeeze your hand.
"Hold the fucking phone," Green Arrow begins. "You're his—"
"Partner," Wonder Woman says instantly. She sounds pensive. "I have never seen you look at anyone like that, Bruce."
Bruce doesn't say anything, not that you expect him to. You feel him tense.
He'd been content to keep his family as private as possible, and you hadn't minded being kept separate. You know it's out of extreme protectiveness and the fact that you're the only one of the Wayne family who doesn't put a suit on and fight crime.
There's a moment of silence as the League studies you, then Bruce. You smile slowly and wave.
"Hi, Justice League. Nice to meet you all."
"Hello," says the Martian Manhunter, who's probably known about you since you entered Wayne Manor.
"You got married without telling us?" Superman sounds hurt.
Bruce heaves a sigh.
"We got married during the League's infancy. Please spare me the theatrics. Of course I didn't tell you."
"We revealed our identities two years ago!" Superman argues. "You didn't want to mention you have a spouse?"
Superman nods at you then. "Uh, of course, it's still very nice to meet you."
You smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Superman."
"Clark," he corrects hastily. Then he turns to Bruce again, upset flaring. "Bruce—"
"You're upset over nothing," Bruce says. "We weren't close when I got married, and I never found it a pertinent detail."
You roll your eyes.
"B," you say, nudging his shoulder. "C'mon. Try to be a little gentler about this, hm?"
Bruce looks at you. You smile at him and squeeze his wrist encouragingly. He eventually turns back to the League.
"Very well, you're right. Clark, that was harsh of me. My apologies."
The League startles.
"Whoa. Rewind. Hold up. Did Spooky just apologize?" Green Lantern asks. "Did I just get zeta'd?"
Bruce sighs. You stifle a laugh and kiss his bicep. His hand slips to your back.
"Aw, you guys are cute," Flash says jovially. "Congrats, B! Even if it's been almost six years."
Bruce nods. "Thank you, Allen."
"It is incredible how the better half can transform the other," says Wonder Woman, and you preen a little at the compliment.
Clark looks flabbergasted. It takes him a second to speak again.
"Um. That's... okay, Bruce. I forgive you. I suppose you did it out of protection, right?"
"I'm just a boring ol' civilian," you say, nodding. "No powers or years of Krav Maga training here. B worries."
"You're not boring," Bruce says fiercely, quiet enough for only you to hear... and Clark, who has superhearing, and who softens at the statement.
"This is so weird," Green Lantern says, and Bruce glares at him.
"I mean, it's sweet!" he hastily adds. "Uh, you guys are very sweet together, like Bar said. I just feel like I've been mind controlled or something."
"If it was mind control, you wouldn't still be talking," Bruce says flatly.
"Okay, alright, point taken. Shutting up. It's very nice to meet you, though," Green Lantern says to you.
"You as well," you say warmly. "All of you. I want to thank you for looking out for him all these years and bringing him home safe."
Wonder Woman smiles at you. "It is a great honor to fight alongside him. And we are happy he has someone to come home to."
"Seconded," Clark says. "You deserve someone special, B. And I can tell they're just that."
Your face feels warm under all the praise. Bruce is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, there's a slight tremor in his voice.
"Thank you. I—they are the best thing to ever happen to me."
You have to kiss Bruce for that, cowl be damned. He meets you gently, and you keep it short but full of love. Flash aww's.
"Well," you say, laughing bashfully. "I suppose I'll let you all get back to work. Nice to meet you. Goodbye. Bruce, I'm going out with Alfred."
Bruce nods. "Call me when you get home."
"'Course, sweetheart. I always do."
You head up the stairs. Flash starts to speak.
"Y'know, I told you all when I got married," he says. "You guys were the first people I told! We didn't even know Clark's identity then. I think you could've loosened the reins, Bruce."
"Yeah, no. You telling a bunch of superhero co-workers is infinitely stranger than Bruce never telling us, Bar."
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hii i love your work and wanted to send a request in :)
can you do “you’re just going to leave me here?!” and “i’m gonna come back for you , do you hear me?” for jason and reader? 💛
maybe they’re on a date and there’s a robbery nearby or a villain crashes a gala they are attending? also maybe the reader knows he’s red hood? or it’s early in their relationship that he hasn’t told them yet? idk if that makes sense, but if you pick this up i can’t wait to see where you take it! 💛
OH IT'S EMOTIONAL ANGST TIME! hurt no comfort 😈 thanks for requesting nonnie 🥰
jason todd x gn!reader | tw: angst, reader feels hurt, lying to protect a superhero identity (is red hood a hero? he is to ME.) i may write a pt 2 to this if there's interest 😎
****
Jason checks his phone for the fourth time tonight. You haven't even received your entrees yet.
"Everything okay?" you ask lightly.
Jason looks up, eyes wide. "Oh. Yes. Sorry, baby. Sorry."
You nod, trying to smile. "It's okay."
He puts his phone in his pocket. You try to relax and focus on your date. This place is upscale, much pricier than you're used to, but Jason had insisted. He'd said he hadn't been doing his due diligence of being your boyfriend and should take you out on more "proper" dates. You'd told him that was silly, of course; you'd be content to go anywhere with him.
But he's been acutely distracted these past few weeks, and you're starting to form terrible explanations in your head for why that might be.
You try to ignore it. You just want to spend time with your boyfriend; it's been so long.
"Oh my God, guess what happened at work today," you say.
Jason leans in, smiling. "Tell me. Was it Peggy from Marketing again?"
"Yes!" You laugh, shaking your head. "She's such a pain. I was in my cubicle when—"
Jason's watch starts to blare, the beep shrill and insistent. He curses and quickly taps at the screen. You slump back in your chair.
"Shit," he says and looks up at you.
You suddenly feel exhausted.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jason begins, rising from his chair. "God, fuck—you have no idea how sorry I am. It's my family, they—something's happened with my brother. He needs my help, unfortunately."
"So you're just going to leave me here?" you ask, mouth dropping open in shock. "Jay, we planned tonight two weeks ago!"
He winces. "I know. Fuck, I know, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry. I'm gonna come back for you, okay? It'll be an hour, tops. Look, order anything you want. I'll leave my card, it's on me—"
You shake your head and stand. "No, Jason. I'm—look, I know your family is important to you, but you've done this a lot this past month, and it's not just hurtful, but it's starting to feel a little intentional. I don't know if I'm some kind of placeholder or, or—"
"Hey, no, no. You're not a placeholder. Please don't say that," Jason begs, reaching for your hand.
You keep your hand out of reach, eyes beginning to heat up.
"I'm going home," you say. "I hope your brother's okay."
"Sweetheart, please, come on. I don't wanna fight."
"Me neither," you say tiredly. "So we won't. Good night, Jason."
His watch beeps again, this time with a phone call. You walk out. It's a nicer part of Gotham, so getting a cab here isn't a problem.
Jason catches up to you instantly. He looks terrified, and it breaks your heart, but you don't have the energy tonight.
"Can I–can I call you tonight?" he asks, voice cracking.
A cab pulls up to the curb. The valet opens the door for you. Jason takes a step forward.
"I'd rather you didn't," you say quietly. "I need some time to myself, Jay."
Jason takes a step back.
"I'm sorry," he says again, desperate.
You sigh. "I know you are."
You get into the car. The valet closes the door. Jason watches you through the window, tugging at his curls like he does when he's stressed.
That night, your bed feels cold. You toss and turn for hours, trying to shake the feeling of a phantom arm snaked around your waist.
Jason doesn't call, like you'd requested. You cry anyway.
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For the drabbles!!
Can you walk? I need you to walk for me! With Dick, if that sounds interesting to you!!
Loved the Drabble you posted, you’re a talented writer!
thanks very much nonnie 🥺❤️ wanted to switch it up and whump dickie boy >:)
"can you walk? i need you to walk." - dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: injured dick, bullet wound, reader tasers a bad guy. dick's not dead i prommy!! Loosely based on the Nightwing 2021 comics.
prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary
****
You wake up to the beeping of the distress signal. Instantly, you're awake, fumbling for the comm bud to put in your ear.
"—in, do you copy? Nightwing needs help, he's—"
"Where is he, Babs?" you ask, flinging the sheet off of your legs and jumping into your suit.
"Blüdhaven City Hall."
"What the hell? Alone?"
Barbara sighs. "Yes. I didn't know until the mayor texted."
Anger flares. You tamp it down because Barbara hasn't done anything wrong, and it's not fair to snap at her for Dick's stupid choices.
Besides, the anger is only to mask the chilling fear that bubbles up.
You stick to the rooftops like Dick himself had taught you when you were first getting the hang of the vigilante thing. You're more like Barbara in that you prefer to stay on the sidelines and help.
But if Dick is in trouble, you're there.
Your heart pounds; you can barely hear the instructions Barbara's giving you as you approach City Hall.
"Is he conscious?" you ask, interrupting her.
She doesn't answer at first.
"Oracle," you press, gritting your teeth as you descend down the roof access stairs. "Is he awake?"
"I don't know. I lost his comm link."
The fear sharpens. Your heart beats so fast, you're afraid you might collapse.
"He's alive, though. His suit vitals are still elevated."
You run faster, flying down the stairwell. It takes some searching to find Dick since his mask camera is also destroyed, according to Barbara. But you manage to track him down relatively fast.
Dick is bound to a chair, puddles of blood at his feet. You rush over and pull at the knots without thinking, growing frustrated when they don't turn loose.
"Blade on your left side."
You startle hard at Dick's voice. He lifts his head slowly and you stifle a gasp at his face. One of the lenses of his mask is cracked. His cheek is bloody and nearly black with bruises. His suit is torn and dirty.
They'd left him for dead.
"I found him, Babs."
You hear her sigh of relief. She starts to organize your exit route. You're only half listening as you slice through the ropes with the blade you forgot you had in your left pocket.
Dick's arms hang at his sides even after you free them. They'd done a number on him.
He watches you as you free his legs next.
"Suit looks good on you," he says, head lolling. "Peak design, if y'ask me."
"You're so stupid," you say, bowing your head so he can't see the tears that sting your eyes. "This was an idiotic thing you did, Dick."
"Alias names only in the field," he reminds you.
You yank the rope harder than you mean to and free his legs.
Dick has to use his whole body to push himself off of the chair. Even so, he stumbles, and you rush to catch him. Your heart jumps to your throat. Of course he'd hide how bad his injuries are.
"Oracle, call Batman."
"No," Dick grits, shaking his head. "Don't call him."
"You can barely move. I can't carry you myself."
You wish you could. As furious as you are, you'd carry him home.
"Am I calling him?" Barbara asks in your ear.
A door slams somewhere upstairs. Cold sweat erupts all over your body. Dick looks at you, and you know he heard it too.
"Guys, am I calling Batman or not?"
"No, we can do it," you say against your better judgment. "Can you move?"
Dick nods rapidly, though you don't totally believe him. You sling an arm under his arm, then wrap your other arm around his waist. He puts nearly all of his weight on you, though you can tell he's using what little strength he has left to try and shift his weight.
The two of you go like that, Dick half limping. You try not to think about how his blood stains your suit.
You move slowly, which unfortunately means that the goon upstairs catches up to you. He pulls out a gun, and Dick shoves you aside before you can advance. He pays the price for it when the goon shoots his leg.
Dick screams.
Quick as Flash, you grab an escrima stick and charge the taser to two thousand volts. Then you ram it into the goon's gut.
He drops like a sack of potatoes. You don't check if he's breathing.
"We don't kill," Dick says as you return the stick to his back holster.
You harshly cut the goon's shirt with your blade and tourniquet Dick's bullet wound. He hisses in pain.
"I didn't kill him," you snap.
"You could've. What the hell was that?"
"That was me stopping him before he blew your brains out!" you shout. "That was me making sure the commissioner doesn't have to fish your body out of the river!"
Dick's head thumps against the wall. His suit is slick with blood. "That wouldn't have happened."
"You could've died tonight, Dick! Why can't you get that through your head?"
His eyes close for too long on the next blink. You kneel in front of him immediately, shaking his shoulder. He grunts.
"Dick, no. Wake up. Don't do this, you gotta stay awake for me."
"'M awake," he says groggily. "I'm..."
"Oracle," you say, panicked. "Vitals."
"His heart rate is sluggish; he's lost a lot of blood. You have to—"
"Dick," you say, shaking his shoulder again. "Dickie, you gotta get up. Can you walk? I need you to walk for me."
"'Kay," he whispers, barely lifting his arm.
"Okay, I've got you. Ready? One, two—"
You lift him and stagger under his full weight.
"Sorry," he murmurs, and you feel sick.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry. Stay awake, okay?"
He hums. You manage to establish a decent gait between the two of you. Dick stumbles along, trying his best to walk independently.
You're almost out of City Hall when Dick collapses. This time, he doesn't get up.
"No, no. Wake up, Dick, wake up. Come on, come on!"
You shake him as hard as you'll let yourself. Dick doesn't stir.
"There's so much blood," you say, your hands sticky with it. "B-Babs..."
"I'm sending help right now. B's on his way, okay?" She sounds just as wrecked as you feel. "Just hold on."
You cradle Dick's head and suck in gasping breaths, keeping pressure on his thigh.
That's how Batman finds you, shaking and hunched over his son.
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my writing!!
MARVEL
STRANGER THINGS
SPIDERVERSE
DC
ao3 | my art tag | [BEFORE YOU REQUEST]
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restroom attendant | jason todd
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Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.
A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)
the divider
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Tonight sucks. 
With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 
Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.
You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 
You’re starting to think this city is cursed.
The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.
A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 
Yep. Definitely cursed.
"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."
He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 
"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 
"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”
“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”
“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"
Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.
"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 
"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."
Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.
“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 
Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.
“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”
“No,” you say, voice shaky.
His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”
Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 
“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 
“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 
“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 
“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”
Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 
“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”
“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 
Hood jerks, turning back to you.
“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”
You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”
He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 
“How come?” Hood asks.
You shake your head. “It's nothing.”
“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”
“I'm not in danger. I…”
You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.
What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 
“I got dumped,” you say. 
“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”
Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.
You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 
“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”
You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.
“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”
“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 
“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 
“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.
Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”
You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 
Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”
You catch your breath and wave your hand. 
“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”
“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”
“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”
You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.
“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”
You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”
“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”
“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 
“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”
Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.
“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”
You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”
“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”
You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”
“You’d win that bet. But I—”
The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 
“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”
Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 
He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”
You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”
Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”
“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”
He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 
You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 
Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.
“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”
“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”
“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.
“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”
“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”
He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 
“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”
Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 
“Thank you,” you say quietly. 
He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.
“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”
Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 
Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 
You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.
“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 
“I didn’t order this,” you say.
“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 
“Oh. Thank you.”
You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.
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savior | jason todd
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Summary: Red Hood is the stuff of nightmares. Red Hood is no hero. Red Hood is your best friend.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings/tags: angsttt, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.
A/N: hey guys! i didn't know what the hell to write so. this is what i came up with. hope ya like it :) if you like this fic, lmk through comments and reblogs!
the divider
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“You fucked up!”
You wince at the shouting and the ringing in your ears. You try to sit up but that makes things hurt, so you lie still and listen. 
"What? You said pick a civilian!”
"I don't give a fuck what I said; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"
You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag.
Batman? Batman isn't coming?
No, that can't be. Batman knows everything that happens in his city. He wouldn't abandon a civilian in need.
You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead. Jason's probably tearing his hair out if he's home from work. He always stresses safety, to the point of paranoia.
Lock your doors. Don't walk down this street. Did you get home okay? Text me when you get home.
You hope Batman's out there, somewhere. Or any of the Bats. You don't want to die. You really, really don't want to die.
Thump!
Something hits the ground. There's a shout.
“You fucking shitheads! You were supposed to check the—”
Gunfire erupts suddenly, and you tuck your head between your knees as best as you can, with your hands and ankles bound.
Thump! Thump!
More bodies hit the ground. But Batman doesn't do guns.
"What the fuck is this?" comes a distorted voice. 
Your blood chills.
"H-Hood!” one of the kidnappers squeaks. “Sh-shit. What’re you doin’ here?”
“Protecting Gotham,” Hood says. “What’re you doing, McKelly? Thought you were on the straight and narrow. Thought the Bats taught you what happens to people who lose their way. Did the lesson not stick?”
“It’s not what it looks like, Hood! We just needed some extra cash and Black Mask—I swear, we weren’t gonna do anything to—”
“Was it worth it? He’s got my attention now.”
“It was meant to draw out Batman! Not you, honest! Aw, Hood, please. I’ll be good after this, I swear!”
“You assholes just don’t learn your lesson, do you?”
He turns and locks in on you. You freeze, tensing up.
“You hurt them," he says, voice like steel. "You hurt them. And you would've hurt them more, wouldn't you?"
“Hood—”
"I’ll kill you all.”
He shoots McKelly in the chest. You scream through the gag. Red Hood looks at you, and it seems to rekindle his anger tenfold.
He shoots the two remaining guys in the head. McKelly writhes, screaming. You shut your eyes and turn away from the bloodshed, stomach rolling. The crunch of bone and muscle makes you sick.
"Hood, please! This ain’t your s—”
The next shot silences the room. Your heart rate skyrockets; is this a rescue or a massacre?
As the footsteps get closer, you press yourself into the wall and quiver. Red Hood is terrifying. He's merciless, bloodthirsty. You know the stories. You don't even know why he's here in the first place. This isn't his territory; you live far from Crime Alley. What is he doing all the way out here?
You peek one eye open. Red Hood freezes. He's about two feet away from you. His jacket and helmet are splattered with dark blood. Tears prick your eyes.
"Hey," he says roughly, like he’s not fully present. "’S okay. Y’alright?” 
You nod rapidly. In reality, your ankle throbs, you might be concussed, and you’re sick with fear. And you don't want Red Hood anywhere near you.
"Okay. I'm gonna remove the gag."
You can't really protest; Red Hood's a big guy, and he has a lot of weapons on his body. All you can hope is that he won't decide to pick up where your kidnapper left off.
He removes the gag. Then he pulls out a blade. 
"Please don't hurt me," you say.
Red Hood stills. His voice is thick when he speaks again. The modulator doesn't soften his words. 
"I would—I would never hurt you. I don't hurt innocents. I... I came here to save you.”
It still doesn’t make sense in your mind, Red Hood being so far from the Bowery. You press your cracked lips together. You don't want to throw up. If you throw up in front of Hood, he might change his mind about saving you. 
“Hey,” he says. “It’s alright. I’m gonna remove the zip ties now, okay?”
You don't have a choice, so you watch the blade whisper past your skin. It would be so easy for Hood to cut more than the restraints. It's all you can think about, frankly.
He makes quick work of the binds. His hand lingers on your wrist. There’s blood on his sleeve. Your heart pounds in your chest.
He finally lets go and you pull away, scooting to the side. That puts pressure on your ankle, though, and you can't hide your wince.
"Your ankle," he says. "Let me see.”
You shake your head. "No, I'm f-fine. I just want to go home. It'll heal.”
Hood seems to make a decision then. He reaches for his helmet. It clicks and he pulls it off.
No. No, it can’t be. It can’t.
“Hey,” Jason says, smiling a little. “‘S just me. Just Jay. You’re safe.”
Your eyes dart between Jason and the bodies. This time, you can’t swallow your nausea; you throw up. There’s tears in your eyes. Your face is hot and sweaty. 
“You–you killed them,” you whisper. 
Jason’s smile fades. “They hurt you. I… I saved you. It’s okay. ‘S just me.”
You clench your hands, willing them to stop shaking. He watches you for a long moment. Then he puts his hand out. You flinch. 
Silence stretches. Then Hood—Jason speaks.
"You're scared of me.”
You shake your head. "Please, I just want to go home—”
"You want Batman instead?" He sounds choked. “You want Batman to come save you? Or Nightwing? Or Robin? You want a good guy?” 
This feels like a trap. You know better than to fall into it. This is the Red Hood.
"No! No, I-I don't have any problem with you, Hood, really, I'm just—"
“It’s Jason!” he shouts. “You’ve known me for three years! Jason! You know me!”
The night is catching up to you; tears begin to spill from how overwhelmed you are. You wipe at your cheeks quickly, trying to calm down, but it's too much.
Jason creeps forward like he wants to touch you. You press against the wall without thinking about it.
“Fuck, you’re—you’re terrified of me,” he rasps. “You think I’m a monster.”
Your panic has reached a peak now; you lose track of time and space, hyperventilating through your cries. Jason shoves himself backwards, tearing a hand through his hair.
“I’m good, I’m a good guy. You know me, you know me. I would never hurt you!”
You could've died tonight. The Red Hood is Jason. The Red Hood is no hero.
You don’t look at him, curled up and cradling your ankle. You’re afraid you’ll get sick again if you open your eyes.
Then someone's hand holds your shoulder. You flinch hard, expecting cold, glowing eyes in a red helmet.
Instead, you see white lenses. Nightwing smiles sadly at you, squatting to your level.
"Hey, there," he says. “I’m—”
"Hood’s here," you blurt. "Watch your back."
Nightwing glances behind him; Jason is across the warehouse, as much distance between you as possible. He has his knees to his chest. The corpses lie between you. Your eyes widen and you turn into Nightwing’s shoulder. He rubs your back.
"It’s okay. I know him. He works with us a lot these days."
“I would never hurt you,” Jason says quietly, voice cracking. “Never.” He doesn’t try to approach you again.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
"Please don't make me go with him,” you whisper. “Please, please…”
It hurts to breathe. Nightwing puts your hand on his chest and tells you to follow his breathing. It lasts a lifetime, it seems: Nightwing crouched to your level, exaggerating his breaths until you're no longer gasping for air. 
"Alright, it's alright. I'll take you home," he says. "It's okay. You're safe. I won’t make you go with him.”
Nightwing helps you stand, and when you stumble through your injured ankle, he catches you, bracing you with his arm around your back.
"Let's wrap your ankle first, okay?”
Nightwing guides you to a lone chair so he can tend to your injury. When you look up again, the Red Hood is gone.
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how about Jason with the prompt "text me when you get home"? the one time they forget/fall asleep before sending the text and Jay loses hid mind. rushes over expecting them to be dead but they passed out on the couch as soon as they got home
really superbly SCRUMPTIOUS prompt Aud. I love protective jaybird 🥰‼️ thanks for sending something in 🫶
jason todd x gn!reader. worried protective snuggly jason. no warnings really, ya boy is just paranoid and madly in love with you 💓
request something! I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary
****
As soon as you get out of your last class of the day, your phone rings.
You answer it, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fish in your bag for a couple of bills. You're already walking to the train station.
"Hi, snookie bear," you say into the phone, slightly delirious with hunger and sleep deprivation.
Jason snorts on the other end. "That's a new one. Hey, baby. Y'heading home?"
"Indeed I am."
"Need a ride?"
You wait and listen. Eventually, you hear the sounds of hitting and grunting in the background. You roll your eyes—only Jason would be in the middle of a fight and then ask if you need a ride home.
"No, I'm okay. It's not dark yet. Plus you sound busy."
"I'm never too busy for you," he says immediately. "And it's gonna get dark in an hour. Are you sure—"
"Yes, Jay," you say gently. "I'm sure. Don't worry about me. I'm going straight home."
You're already at the station. There's a good amount of people, students and workers alike. The university is in a relatively okay part of town, especially during the day. You're not worried. It's not like you traipse through Crime Alley on your downtime.
"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath. "Just—just be careful. Text me when you get home."
You note the hint of worry in his tone. Maybe this week has been particularly saturated with crime. Jason tends to get a little overbearing about your safety when he's had a tough week. You know he had go down to Blüdhaven and help his brother—with what specifically, you don't know.
Most of the time, you're sure you don't want to know.
"I always do," you say. The train pulls up to the station. "Ooh, train's here! I'll talk to you later. I'm thinking of ordering takeout. Too tired to cook."
"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. Love you. Lock your door."
You roll your eyes fondly. "Yes, Jay. Love you too. Bye."
You hang up as you step onto the train. You pull your headphones out of your bag and shut your brain off during the ride. By the time you get off the train, you've lost hope that you'll be doing any work tonight. You're absolutely wiped out after three back-to-back classes.
It's still light when you get home. You lock the door after you get in, the habit ingrained into you, and dump your bag onto the couch.
Takeout is a no-go. You're hungry now and about thirty seconds away from passing out on the couch.
You change into your home clothes, eat a granola bar, and call it a day. You'll eat more later.
You turn off your phone to bar any annoying notifications and fall into bed, eyes closing immediately.
****
The sound of your deadbolt being teared off its chain wakes you up. You flinch and jump awake, trying to blink through sleep. Your mouth is dry from how hard you slept, and your eyesight is slightly blurry from the sudden flood of moisture.
Your bedroom door swings open, and suddenly you're pulled into warm, heavily muscled arms. You hug back on instinct; you'd know the feel of your boyfriend anywhere.
"Jay, h—"
"You didn't text," he says, voice shaking. "You said you would. I was—I thought you were—"
You tense, guilt knocking into you.
"Shit. Jason, I'm so sorry. I meant to, I was just so tired..."
Jason pulls back to look at you, hands still on your shoulders. His expression is stern.
"I'm gonna pick you up from now on. When are your late days?"
"Jay, no, GCU is across town. You can't possibly pick me up three days a week. That's too much! What about patrol?"
"Somebody else is out at this time," he says stonily. "Crime Alley can wait an hour while I get you home."
His eyes blaze green, a side effect of the Pit. You can tell he's putting every effort into keeping a lid on the worry and fear and anger over your silence.
"Jason." You cup his face. "Honey, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't text you. I'm sorry I worried you. But your adrenaline is spiked right now, Jay. Everything feels magnified. I don't need to be picked up. I was perfectly safe coming home. Okay?"
He shakes his head, holding your wrists. "Anything could've happened. I was so—fuck, baby, I was so scared. I-I checked the station footage and the traffic cams, and I didn't see you after you cut through the park, and I thought—I was sure you'd—"
Jason pulls your arms around his neck and buries his face into your shoulder. He supports you by the backs of your thighs, tugging you into his lap. Then he clings tight.
"Oh, Jay," you murmur, petting his curls. "I'm alright. This end of Gotham isn't so bad. And I know you'd have found me even if something had happened. But nothing did."
"Can't lose you," he chokes out.
"You won't lose me, honey," you say. "You keep me safe."
He trembles in your embrace. You kiss the shell of his ear and continue to pet his hair.
"Let me pick you up tomorrow, at least," he pleads. "We'll get dumplings at that place you like. You barely ate anything when you came home."
"Okay, Jay," you say, because you know he needs that reassurance. He won't relax without it. "That sounds good."
You keep stroking his hair. "Y'wanna order in now?"
"In a minute."
Jason lays you both down on the bed. He throws a leg over yours and pulls you into his chest. It's now that you see just how much tension is locked in his shoulders. He's exhausted.
"Jus' wanna hold you for a bit," he says, lips resting on your shoulder.
He's drowsy, the adrenaline finally ebbing. You close your eyes and snuggle into his arms.
"You can hold me for as long as you want," you say, threading your fingers with his. "I'm not going anywhere."
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── 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ──
Harry Potter x Fem!reader x Surprise!Character.
Summary ▻ Every night when your lover thinks your asleep, he goes to sit by your side and began reminding you of his love.
Warning/s ▻ Mentions of food and eating. No more because we don't like spoilers. This one is pretty short too.
Word Count ▻ 700+
ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ
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You entered your home and place your things down on the floor, too tired to look around your surroundings.
"Honey, are you home?" you yelled, heading to the kitchen to check if your lover is home.
Picking up the note that sat on top of the table it read:
" I'll be back before 2, don't wait for me. I cooked you dinner its on the kitchen counter.
— Harry or maybe your beloved husband - no, too formal? "
You chuckled, checking the said food on the counter - Its still warm, he just left.
"We didn't even see each other." you sighed.
***
After eating the cooked dinner, washed the dishes you used, you gave your bathroom a visit to do your nightly routine..
Immediately after, you head straight to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes and laid on your bed until you drifted to sleep.
***
You heard the door opening and closing, and the footsteps that's nearing you, but you brushed it off - knowing its your husband.
You felt the bed on your side dip -
"I love you." he whispered under his breath as he gently brushes your hair with his bare fingertips.
That made your heart flutter - your husband rarely says it to you directly, but ever since you moved in this house, he would always remind you of his love - every fucking night, when he thought you were deep in your sleep.
You smiled at the thought, you knew he couldn't see it as the lights were off - it was incredibly dark - you can't even make out his silhouette and to add to that your husband bought black out curtains.
You felt him pull away after he pressed small kisses all over your face and once again heard the door opening and closing.
Later on you drifted back to sleep - for you to be woken up by your husband who was carrying a bag full of sweets.
"Love, you have to wake up. I got you something."
"Hmm?" you groggily sat up, yawning.
"I got you chocolates on the way home. I remember you saying you have been craving for it."
"Thank you, but why are you still dressed up?"
"I left a note saying I'm not coming back before two."
"No - I heard you coming in and leaving I - you also -" You realized your mistake by pointing his secret out and looked up at him to see him peering down at you with an expression you can't quite make out.
"I'm sorry - I know - I'm not always fully asleep when you do it - I'm sorry"
"Do what?" he looked puzzled as he was getting more confused - confused about what your talking - apologising about.
"When you sit beside me-"
"You hear it too?" he cut you off, the realisation evident on his face, he scanned the room before sitting on the bed.
You paused and shoot him a confused look "Hear what?"
"The door, the footsteps and the whispers."
"Harry don't play with me." You tried covering your trembling voice with a chuckle, but Harry kept shaking his head - he looked too serious.
"That's not me." He murmured.
***
He hears it - the slow footsteps as someone enters your room to sit beside you and tell you how much they love you.
It happens almost every night when both of you are about to drift into a deep sleep.
The heaving breaths, the rough hand touching you, the voice whispering in your ear, the lingering kisses all over your face - all of that was not your Husband's doing.
***
He can hear both of you converse on the other side of the room.
You were terrified, he can hear it in your voice - you were trembling.
He listened.
Even though it was inaudible and muffled for many - he could hear - understand every single word you let out.
He stops himself from breathing heavily, as he was living behind your walls, waiting for you drift back to sleep to feel your soft plump lips against his rough ones, watch you in the dark while you slept and inhale the scent of his favourite shampoo off your hair.
Buying the black out curtains was a good idea, it was a great benefit for him - the moonlight - no light could get in.
He thought of killing the bloke who sleeps beside you every fucking night, who gets to be with you outside the daylight and gets every opportunity to kiss you and give you the pleasure he would love to offer.
It was supposed to be him.
Your ex-lover, Tom Riddle.
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A/n: I LOVE THIS KIND OF TOM RIDDLE I FUCKING LOVE THIS FUCKING IDEA THAT CAME TO MY MIND AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING SO WHY NOT?! ALSO I DID NOT BETA READ THIS.
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ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!!
@maelycious @slvtfor-gingerpubes @kimorna @dracoslittleangel @honeygarfield @raajali3 @thehalfbloodedwitch @siriusblackstwin
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to be loved by tom riddle
summary: Tom Riddle is in no way the perfect lover, but he tries, he always does, for you.
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Tom Riddle is far from perfect, and deep inside, even his narcissistic self knows that. Being a lover, your lover, he has been discovering many new things about himself. Before, he wasn't even aware that he was capable of loving someone, due to what he went through, due to the lack of love he had before. Before you.
He tries, though. Your dark and power-hungry lover always tries to love you properly.
Tom Riddle, who loves you beautifully in his own way, who prepares a note while confessing to you, only to tuck it into his pocket after folding it, and look at your properly. Love flowing from his eloquent confession and passion evident in his eyes, as he holds your hand softly—his grip like his love; soft and uncertain, yet not wanting to let go, wanting to hold on. Scared, yet willing.
("There is nothing I find more beautiful than you, and my heart beats violently when you are around, even at the thought of you. After a long time of contemplation, the only reason for this is..."
"Love?" you supplies softly.
He falters, his mask crumbling slightly as he nods. Scared. He then regains his composure and says, "That is my assumption, yes.")
Your lover, who hesitates in abandoning his dream to achieve more power, to be Lord Voldemort. The same hesitation that dissipates whenever his mind drifts to you, and he knows that if he continues, he cannot be with you. It physically makes his heart ache, to leave what he wants the most, but you, just you, can easily cure that ache of his. He knows then, that it isn't power that he wants the most. As he thinks about your heart that reciprocates his love and your beautiful mind that is perhaps (and hopefully, he adds desperately) thinking of him as well, he comes to a decision, for a future with you in it.
Tom Riddle, who despises physical touch, simply because he doesn't understand it, doesn't understand how it matters to most people he knows. He flinches, when you rest your hand on top of his. There was a moment of silence between you two, as you look into each other's eyes.
("Why?" he asks.
"To show that I love you.")
He hates that, how forward you can be with your feelings, how he can't do the same. He tries to be like you, to make sure to show that his feelings for you are clear. He realises that this is him showing that he loves you too.
Your lover, who chases after your touch despite the voice at the back of his head telling him that it's unlike him to do so. His dark eyes closing when he feels your familiar hand on his cheek, and his warm hand catching your wrist when your hand pulls away, only to let it go when he realises that he's doing things on impulse now, always whenever you start touching him.
("And every time my skin brushes against yours, even just a light touch—it just... astounds me," he explains.
You hummed, as your hand hovers over his, silently asking for permission.
Please, he wants to say. He decides to nod instead.)
Tom Riddle, who still craves for Dark Magic, only to remind himself that you, you, you—that you're his, and that he shouldn't risk that, risk losing you.
Your lover, who always finds a way to make the things that he wants work, who caves in to temptation and continues using Dark Magic, except that now, it's for you. The excitement he feels when performing Dark Magic on the ones that hurt you, on the ones that cause even the slightest frown on your lips.
Tom Riddle, who doesn't understand how you can keep on loving him even after finding out what he does to people who do you wrong.
("I'm sorry—"
"I should be sorry. I'm sorry that you feel like you have to hide this from me.")
He comes to a realisation that this is love, to accept everything about the one you love. This is you accepting him.
Your lover, who takes care of you without realising it himself. A hair clip that he keeps in his pocket for when your hair falls to your face while you're doing work, a scrutinising gaze being sent your way because you seem a little down instead of directly asking you about it, because that's how he is, and the fast steps that he makes whenever you two reach the door of your destination, just so he could open it for you. Only when he finds two hair clips in his pocket that he notices the little things he has been doing for you.
Tom Riddle, who learns that he cannot win everything. Despite how much you two love each other, it cannot easily change the massive ego he has and his astonishing stubbornness. He always feels the need to win, and that includes arguments. He hates how you have the same massive ego and astonishing stubbornness he has.
He pauses at this thought. He should learn to accept you, and all your flaws, shouldn't he? He tends to be harsh when he wants to win, completely disregarding any feelings. He immediately blurts out an apology, earning a very confused "Huh?"
Your lover, who loves you too much because he has never loved anyone like this. You can even say it's obsession, or something close to it. He has to know every thought that occurs in your mind, and every plan that you decide to make.
He explains it's only because he's afraid that you would get away from him, in which you have to explain that you are not going anywhere at all. You mention how he has to trust you.
Tom Riddle, who likes the idea of trust between the two of you, and wonders just how much you trust him. He feels himself getting lost when he sees you trembling and breathless. It then instantly clicks, and he has seen this before. Once again, he's grateful for his constant curiosity.
He holds onto both of your hands, making sure you're looking at him. His soft voice reminds you to breathe, to look at him and only him. He doesn't know how much time has passed, nor does he care—it always feels timeless with you anyway.
As he's engulfed by your arms afterwards, receiving gratitude from you, he feels lucky to be the one that you're able to be vulnerable around. Trust, he thinks.
You're always so strong, for him and for everyone else. Despite how, sometimes, he can see that you're putting up a mask, you always appear strong. This vulnerable side of yours doesn't make you weak, now that you've shown him. It only makes him think that you're so much stronger. Trust, he repeats.
Your lover, who loves you beautifully, and learns to love you beautifully. Your lover, Tom Riddle.
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show me how | tom riddle
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pairing: tom riddle x reader
genre: fluff? angst? unrequited crushes but not really, love confessions, first kiss, complicated feelings???
wc: 1.2k
originally posted on AO3: 23/02/2023
You like Tom Riddle. Like like like. Like fancy him like. You knew that. And you think he knows it too.
It's not like you actively tried to hide it, if he knew about it then that's that. If he doesn't then that's another path that readily available for you to take.
"Hmm?" You hummed, Tom had called for your attention earlier but you weren't exactly focused on what he was saying. Your eyes met his, now wide and curious as to what he had to say. "What is it?"
"Are you okay?" He asks.
And the words sound so foreign coming from between his lips that you thought for a split second that you weren't speaking to Tom himself.
"Yeah," you murmur softly, nodding as he process the words in as a clear lie. If Tom had been a more expressive person, he'd be frowning, but he wasn't, so instead he settled on pursing his lips. "Don't worry about it."
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Tom was conceived under a love potion. He can't love. And one would think that that was enough of a reason to not have feelings for the guy but you were stupid enough to do it nonetheless.
"You're lying," he states, his brows furrowed the slightest bit. "Why are you lying?"
"It's nothi—" You stop, tearing your eyes away from his to stare down at your hands. And after a second, you huff, looking back at him once more. "—Do you think that you could grow to love someone?"
And that was when it clicked into place for Tom. You, the only person he was able to tolerate and or considers as his only friend, fancied him.
He thinks for a bit, mulling the idea over and over. Tom is used to the act by now, he would get confessed to then he would promptly turn it down because, quite frankly, he doesn't give a shit what others think of him.
But with you. He doesn't know what to do with you.
"I think you should get something to eat," he says instead, another action that was so foreign of him to do. "Come on."
Tom was never one to avoid confrontation in any shape or form and always made sure that the person who confessed to him knew their place. But you were his friend, and he doesn't know how to tell you where you were placed on the list of things that occupied his mind.
Tom stands up awkwardly by the library's table, a place you've been frequenting with him lately. And watched as you made no move in gathering your things.
"Have you ever loved anything?" You ask him quietly, grateful that you've found the table furthest from any possible commotion.
Tom says your name sternly. You knew he didn't like to talk about this topic, a wall having been put up and never once crossed during the years of friendship in which you've known him. "I think we should go."
"And I think you should tell me that you can't love me back," you counter. "Just so I could move on."
Tom stays silent, his head going dizzy at the look on your face, staring up at him from your seat with your pupil blown wide with admiration. You not only liked him. You loved him.
"I'm not going to care for you any less when you tell me no," you say to him. Tom reaches over and grabs at your things, packing it as he quietly listens to you. "You're still my friend."
Friends. His stomach drops at the words. He doesn't want to be your friend. He doesn't know what he wants, he just knows that he didn't want to be just that. But he will not give you false hope by lying to you. So he tells you, like you've asked of him: "I can't love you."
It takes you two beats before you smile at him, finally putting away your things, your own hand brushing against his cold ones as you stuffed your supplies into your bag. Tom considers for a second if he should hold it for you. You know, as an apologetic gift.
But he decides not to, and watches as the straps drapes over your shoulder, digging into your skin uncomfortably.
"You know," you start as you walked out the library besides him. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile."
Tom steps slows, matching with your own and with knitted brows he asks. "What do you mean?"
"I can't remember how you smile," you say with a small smile of your own. "Show me how, will you?"
Tom blinks. He thinks back to his life in the orphanage, to the basilisk under the chamber, Moaning Myrtle, the things he did to Hagrid, everything he has done so far that you've had zero clue of and feels to guilty too lift the corner of his lips up. He just can't do it.
"If you can't show me how you love, Tom," you say. "Then the least you could do was show me how you smile."
He doesn't say anything, just watching you as your eyes flickered between his lips and any of his other features. You were shorter than him, and he thinks he likes it this way.
He thinks of you, how you look at him, how you speak to him, how you've dreamt up visions of who he'd never be, and how he —for the first time ever in his life, feel the love you have for him. And how when he does smiles, a small sigh slips out of him.
You notice then the corner of his lips curving upwards, the small squint of his eyes, the scrunch on his high nose bridge, and the dip of dimples in his cheeks, poking through clearer than ever before. Your thoughts err away, and you let your heart fall in love with Tom again.
You smile back, reciprocating his and somehow his only grew. A blissful glint reaching his eyes, as he mirrored you. You tilt your head to the side, only realising now that you two came to halt, and signalled for him to follow after you. "Let's go."
You didn't get far, cold hand wrapping around your wrist and held you in place. You look back at him with a questioning look and you could see Tom contemplate with himself.
"I'm going to kiss you."
"What?"
Tom didn't repeat himself, his lips pressing onto yours with his free hand gently cupping your face, the coldness melting into the heat of your flushed cheeks. Cold. Cold. Cold. You kissed him back, letting yourself enjoy this moment while it lasted with an ache in your heart. Tom pulls away, hand still cupping your face as his thumb slides down to your chin and lifts it up so you would look at him.
"I want to learn to love you," he says slowly. "Please."
A smile etched its way onto your lips, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Tom since he has to physically restrain himself from kissing you again and again. Tom awaited for your words, and as he thinks that he'll finally get an answer to his semi-love confession.
You ask him instead, "why are your hands so cold?"
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—from bee: writing my favorite slytherin to my favorite song, may be OOC tom but who caresssssss,, i love him for ittt.
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how love poems urged tom riddle to confess
summary: You wondered if reciting love poems with Tom Riddle was a good idea, because he started sending you notes with love poems written in them.
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"Lang Leav is the best for hopeless romantics," you stated, your lips quirking up slightly. You fell into a comfortable pace walking alongside Tom Riddle through the corridor.
He hummed contemplatively. "Perhaps. Why do you say so?"
You shrugged. "One day I looked at you, and it suddenly occurred to me how beautiful your smile was."
You tried to ignore how Tom looked at you attentively when you started reciting and continued, "I heard music in your laughter... I saw poetry in your words."
You met his eyes for the last sentence. Funny. It seemed almost accurate saying that to a man like Tom Riddle - to Tom Riddle himself.
You looked away and started recalling another poem. "There's more," you said, changing your tone to a more excited one.
You and Tom both stopped at a staircase, standing behind multiple students who were also waiting to go to the first floor.
"It was a quiet love, a tacit love," you started, looking up at all the other staircases moving above you. "It came without prelude or preamble."
The staircase you were standing on started moving and you stumbled slightly, but Tom was quick to grab your arm. You noticed how rather than helping you stand closer to the railing, he pulled you closer to him instead.
"Thank you," you whispered as he nodded. You continued and looked up at him, "We never said the word love, we didn't have to."
As the students in front of you finally moved, you and Tom still stood where you where. A corner of his lips curled up slightly as his eyes fluttered. He always did that whenever he was feeling strong emotions about something, you noticed.
He placed his hand on your back and gently gave you a push to urge you to start walking. As you both descended the stairs, he said, "They're very impressive. I can see why you like them. I cannot say I agree that she is the best though."
You smiled nonetheless. You loved that about him. He was always so positive about your interests and what you liked, despite disagreeing with you about them at times. It was almost funny, considering this was Tom Riddle, who can be very critical sometimes.
"Who do you have in mind, Tom?" you asked, looking up at him and hoping that the way you said his name came off as natural.
He hummed thoughtfully. "You are the kindest thing that ever happened to me, even if that is not how our tale is told."
Both of you came to a stop in front of the library's wooden door. None of you made a move, as you were looking at him and he was gazing somewhere, recalling the poem in his mind.
"You showed me how a love like ours..." he paused and gazed at you. "...Can turn even the darkest, oldest realm into the happiest of homes."
Your heart jumped. You blinked and looked at the library door, finally opening it.
"There is another one," Tom said from behind you and closed the door after you.
You glanced at him, wanting him to continue as you both walked towards where you both usually sit together. It hit you, at that moment, the chemistry you had with him. You both had your own go-to table and for Merlin's sake, you were reciting love poems to each other.
You wondered why he hadn't said anything, but it seemed like he wanted to settle down first so you kept quiet as you sat in front of him as usual. You placed your notebook in front of you and prepared your quill in your hand, then you looked at him curiously.
"I don't hate you, I love you," he started, all while holding your gaze.
Your heart skipped a beat once more. Your heart was always doing exercises with him around. You forced yourself to hold the eye contact, because if you looked away, it would be very obvious then.
He's simply reciting a poem! Like how you did earlier! Calm down.
"But loving you is killing me," he said and leaned back to his chair. "So this is goodbye even if I don't want it to be."
Your eyes blinked softly. "Nikita Gill."
He nodded and smirked. "Who's the hopeless romantic here?"
You gasped with feigned shock. "I simply have read these arts before."
He laughed and you suddenly recalled the poem you read to him earlier. You heard music in his laughter.
"That would make you one as well," you joked. "You read love poems?"
He tilted his head, and you tried to ignore how his curls moved along. You tried to ignore how you wanted to softly brush his hair back with your fingers. "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't," he said smoothly.
"Regarding Nikita Gill, I think one of the first ones I read was The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be," you mused, tapping your finger on your chin.
"Lovely," he commented. "She speaks to me fondly of passions and talents, pianos and stars, then stops short and apologises for speaking at all."
He had a playful smile on his face and you rolled your eyes, yet you had a smile on your lips as well. This man would be the death of you.
"Don't even try to test my memory," you remarked. "I remember that it was guitars not pianos."
He chuckled and looked away. "It seems like I overestimated my memory."
You wanted to run away and hide. He was clearly lying. You of all people knew how amazing Tom Riddle's memory was. You wanted to run away and hide, because you knew that he knew very well you played the piano and you loved astronomy. 
You wondered if reciting love poems with Tom Riddle was a good idea, because he started sending you notes with love poems written in them. Of course, they were from Lang Leav and Nikita Gill. You would find them between the pages of book you brought with you, in the pocket of your robes and sometimes he would just slid the note towards you on the table in the Great Hall. Sometimes, he would walk past or towards you and simply put the note in your hand. It was the closest you would ever get to holding his hand.
The first time you had received it was during your Transfiguration class. You took out your notebook, only to find a handwritten, handwritten love poem between the page where you had last written on and a new page. The handwriting was very familiar and you knew very well who it was from. Of course, he had to sign off the note with TMR.
Anything Else
I want to plant a seed in your mind, some tiny particle of thought that bears a remnant of me. So little by little, day by day, you find yourself thinking of me, until one morning, you will wake up and realize you can’t think of anything else.
TMR
Since then, they just kept coming.
In your pocket...
To Love You
It feels bittersweet to love you, as though time has already run its ruinous path and everything good is over before it begins.
It feels perilous to love you, like a dust scorn swallowing up the sky or a comet skimming the stratosphere.
But it is an honor to love you. Like the snow drifts giving way to spring, I will hold you for as long as I can.
TMR
The one he had slipped into your hand so easily...
Eros
If time were governed by Eros, I would stay in your arms forever. If time answered only to lovers, I would never leave your side. The seconds pass by slower when I’m staring at the clock. And you wonder why I can’t take my eyes off you.
TMR
After reading this one, you recalled an interaction you had with him in the past.
"You stare a lot, don't you?" you had asked him out of the blue, after catching his eyes once again.
He didn't look ashamed at all. "In general?"
"In... general," you confirmed reluctantly, because of all the times you looked at him when he was looking away, he never actually stared at others much. Why was it that with you—
"Force of habit," he said smoothly. "Do you find it uncomfortable?"
"Not uncomfortable, merely curious," you chuckled.
"I stare at what I find interesting," he said, so casually. 
Was he saying he found you interesting? This was Tom Riddle, you shouldn't get your hopes up.
"A lot of interesting things around," you joked, going back to writing your notes.
A few seconds passed, until he said, "Not exactly."
You chose to ignore that for the sake of your heart, and started a new topic for your conversation.
Then, the latest one he had given you.
A Timeline.
You and I
   against a rule, 
   set for us by time.
A marker drawn 
   to show our end, 
   etched into its line.
The briefest moment 
   shared with you— 
   the longest 
   on my mind.
TMR
Your sighed lovingly upon reading the note. You were so doomed.
You recalled the playful look in his eyes when he had slid the note towards you earlier in the Great Hall. His slender hand slowly coming into your view with a note below his fingers and stopping right in front of you. He had tapped the note before pulling his hand away.
You had looked up at him and he raised an eyebrow upon meeting your eyes, with the smile on his face growing wider. At that time, it seemed as if the world around you was muffled. The conversations your peers were having around you and the clinking of forks and spoons. All becoming quieter simply because your eyes had met Tom Riddle's enchanting ones.
The briefest moment shared with you—the longest on my mind.
You had long accepted how you felt about him. You would never say out loud that you loved him, though.
Your eyes widened in realisation. Love.
What Does Love Feel Like?
One day you will meet someone
who will see the universe 
that was knitted into your bones,
and the embers of galaxies glow to life in your eyes.
And you will finally know
what love is supposed to feel like.
You grinned to yourself before ending the note with the initials of your name. You cannot wait for him to get a taste of his own medicine, lovingly of course.
The following day, Potions class was starting and you quickly walked over to Tom's table. He paused his conversation with his partner and looked at you expectantly. You said nothing and simply pulled his hand up by his wrist before sliding the note into his hand gently.
You looked up at him and smiled, before turning around to go back to your table.
Once again, you wondered if what you did was the right idea.
He wasn't replying to your note at all.
Sure, you both walked past each other several times, sat very close to each other in the Great Hall and talked in your classes. Sure.
However, it had been a while since your last library date and these library dates were the only times you would have private and genuine conversations with Tom. You weren't even sure when your next one could be.
It was almost silly, but you felt as though he was becoming... distant.
Maybe, you had overstepped. Then again, you were just doing what he did. Plus, if you were to talk about overstepping, you were sure both of you had overstepped a thousand times already. The table at the library that was only for you both, being alright with touching each other but not with anyone else, silly inside jokes that are too in-depth for anyone to understand and the way you treated each other differently than everyone else. The way you talked to each other. The words, the looks, the touches—
Most importantly, you could not forget the way he said I love you.
"But loving you is killing me, so this is goodbye even if I don't want it to be at all."
You sighed. You were overthinking this again.
Tom Riddle was driving you mad, and you could only hope you were doing the same thing to him.
Plus, it had only been two days since your note. You were really just overthinking.
You were just pushing him out of your thoughts when you sat down at your table in the library. You were hoping to see him, but at the same time, you were hoping not to see him, because you just tried so hard to get him out of your head.
Tom suddenly pulled the chair in front of you and sat down. No books, no quill — just him. He was also staring at you intently and you could almost see the gears turning in his head.
"Hello there," you greeted and raised an eyebrow at his behaviour.
"Hello," he replied, looking conflicted. "What Does Love Feel Like? — Do you agree with that?"
"Of course," you replied without missing a beat. As if you had wanted to talk about this for a long time now. Of course you did. "I wouldn't give that to you if I didn't agree with it."
You basically just confessed to him in some way, but then again, both of you were literally reciting and sending love poems to each other.
He parted his lips to speak, then he closed them again and you tensed. He was really conflicted, wasn't he?
"Are you okay?"
"You're the one—" he said and stopped himself as he looked away briefly. He turned back to you and continued, "You're the one that sees the universe knitted into my bones and you're the one that sees the embers of galaxies glow to life in my eyes."
You stared at him in shock as warmth spread throughout your body. You slowly placed down your quill and chuckled nervously, "You're the one whose laughter I heard music in, whose words I saw poetry in."
He then smiled, so widely and even looked relieved which startled you even more.
You were... confessing to each other.
You had fantasised many confessions between you two and none of them were normal at all. You hadn't expected your confession to go this way, but you had expected your confession to be this way.
Of course your love confession with Tom Riddle was through love poems.
You were pulled out of your trance when Tom stood up from his seat. You were about to question him until he stood beside you and gripped your chin gently. He gazed down into your eyes so lovingly that you might melt, and you knew you were looking at him the same way.
He leaned down and finally—finally, his lips met yours.
He pulled away, just a few inches from you. "Now I can finally give you all the poems I've written about you."
You blinked softly, startled once more. He wrote poems about you.
"I love you too," you whispered.
He froze, before letting out a soft laugh. He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed it with your thumb. "I really meant it when I said that," he said, sounding like he was suprised with himself.
"I know. I know now," you said, before turning your head to kiss his palm and you just enjoyed how his expression faltered, how he was slowly becoming more vulnerable.
He leaned down once again and you closed your eyes, feeling the familiarity of his lips on yours. You found that his kiss was so much more poetic than those love poems.
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ao3
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the acknowledgement that you're meant for each other
summary: You and Tom Riddle had agreed to end your relationship. However, you both found that you needed each other more than you'd think.
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"It's obvious to me, Tom," you said, placing a hand on top of his. "I know you've been feeling this way too. Nothing about you goes unnoticed by me, you know."
A few months ago, you'd laugh yourself to death if you caught yourself saying that to Tom Riddle. The Tom Riddle with high and unbreakable walls around him — the same walls that you had managed to break into. You had seen him, every part of him, and you had loved every part of him.
So, what went wrong?
"Why do I feel this way?" he asked bitterly and turned over his hand to hold yours.
You felt your heart aching at his expression. He looked so broken and so lost. He was feeling the emotions he hated feeling the most with you. He was feeling the emotions that he never thought he would feel with you — and you wished, oh, how you wished you could fix that.
"I don't know," you answered truthfully. "I don't know why I feel this way too."
You both were delaying it. It was obvious, but now, you had to say it.
"Perhaps, we should end this."
Tom dropped his head and sighed. "Yes, we should."
As you both parted ways, you found yourself with a heavy feeling that you didn't want to acknowledge as regret, and how the warmth of his hand still lingered in yours.
The night you two parted, Tom found that he took longer to sleep than usual. His mind was full and loud, and no books could help him calm his mind.
He had multiple books on his nightstand, each of them had been bookmarked in hopes that he would find it interesting when he read it, in hopes that he would absorb himself in whatever content was on the page. Unfortunately, nothing worked, not even when some of the pages were bookmarked by you.
It wasn't books that often helped him calm his mind, it was you.
Tom clicked his tongue at the realisation and turned his body on the other side as he placed a pillow on his head.
He was an overthinker, he thought a lot, so he couldn't help it when his mind drifted to you once again. He couldn't help but to remember the way you, one person, managed to make the world around him become quiet so easily. He couldn't help but to remember how every thought in his mind simply dissipated because of you.
Before, he was a fully independent person, almost devoid of emotions and had no emotional attachments to anything at all.
Until you came along, you taught him how to love, how to love properly. You made him realise that the strong feelings he sometime felt were not a burden, but they were normal.
You made him, him. You made him love being him.
If he had shed a few tears that night due to the unexplainable ache in his chest, he would never admit it.
When he woke up from his miserable slumber the next morning, he could tell that things were only going to get worse for him.
It was confirmed when he had saved you a seat next to him at the Great Hall. He felt his chest aching again when he saw you entered the hall. You looked beautiful, so beautiful that it hurt him. At the same time, you didn't look yourself. He knew, because he knew you better than anyone.
Were you hurting as much as he was?
A part of himself was begging for that to be true.
He didn't think it was possible for him to feel more hurt, until he saw you sitting with your friends and he realised that he was saving a seat next to him for nothing. That's right, nothing. Both of you weren't anything anymore.
Malfoy pulled him out of his thoughts by calling his name and proceeded to joke about how in love Tom was. It then hit him that he had been staring at you, and he hoped you hadn't noticed.
He chose to ignore Malfoy's joke, because that only meant he was looking at you so lovingly.
Upon realising what class he had next, he felt sick to his stomach. It was only early in the morning, but he was already feeling all sorts of negative emotions, all because of you. He wanted to press his palms into his face, but he remembered that he was around people, in public. He felt miserable enough, and that didn't need to be obvious from the outside.
Except for you. You could always see right through him.
When the time finally came for Potions class, Tom was the first one as usual and he hurriedly tried to make himself seem busy. He tried to make himself look presentable, before you, his Potions partner, could arrive into the class. You, his sweet and so lovable—
His?
Tom shook his head, sighing loudly. He needed to focus. His heartbeat was speeding up rapidly. You would be here any time soon and he had to—
The door to the classroom opened and Tom swallowed nervously. The tables were eventually filled with students and at the corner of his eye, he saw you coming up next to him and placing your bag down on the chair.
Merlin, you were his ex-lover but it felt like you were his crush.
"Good morning, Tom."
Your soft greeting caused him to tense up and he hoped you didn't see it. He turned to you and felt his walls crumbling down at the sight of your gentle eyes and tender smile. Why were you looking at him like that?
Most importantly, Tom? Why just Tom? It was supposed to be 'my love' or 'darling', so why—
"Good morning," he greeted back softly, followed by your name and he found that he could never get tired of saying your name.
He turned back to the front.
All of his rational thoughts got thrown out of the window whenever you were around.
It was three days after your breakup, where you found yourself at the library with your mind drifting to Tom Riddle, again.
Your Transfiguration notes had long been abandoned, with the textbook and your notebook opened on the table and you were mindlessly staring at the bookshelves in front of you, with your chin resting on your palm.
You hadn't been well.
Your nights had been lonely, without a certain bed to sneak onto, and your study sessions had been dull, as you didn't have a comforting presence near you anymore.
You had friends and you had your close friends, but you had no one like Tom Riddle.
You had no one that could help you ground yourself, that could give you the perfect reassurance with the perfect words and actions. You had no one to tell you that "you're okay, darling".
He was also more, he was always more — just by holding his hand you could no longer feel that you were alone. Just by being under his gaze, you felt seen and understood.
No one made you feel like that.
You wondered if Tom was doing well, wondered if he was taking care of himself well. His mind tended to get loud at night and you usually would cradle his face tenderly, whispering sweet nothings. He also sometimes skipped his meals without realising and you had to bring him food.
You felt your eyes burning and you quickly blinked away the upcoming tears.
You were nothing anymore. What was wrong with you? You and Tom Riddle were nothing anymore.
You recalled yesterday night, how you hard you had cried when you found his shirt neatly folded amongst yours. It still smelled like him too and you couldn't help but to go to sleep with it.
Truthfully, you were regretting the breakup. It was a stupid decision, because you were still deeply in love with him.
What went wrong?
You had only been talking to him during classes where you both sat next to each other or were partners in, which was most of your classes.
You wanted more so terribly.
You wanted the late night talks, you wanted Tom spilling his mind so freely with you again, you wanted to watch the light in his eyes as he talked about his interest in magic and most importantly, you wanted him.
You were so deprived of Tom Riddle and it hurt, badly.
Palmistry.
You almost scoffed, it was as if the universe was trying to tie you close to him. You looked over to your Divination partner, none other than Tom Riddle. He looked gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look back at the professor.
The moment that you dreaded finally came and you both turned to each other. You looked at the table for a few seconds, pretending to fix things before looking up at Tom. Your heart jumped when he was already looking at you.
"Do you want your readings first?" you questioned, forcing yourself to appear calm.
"Yes," he said softly and stretched out his hand.
Gently, you took his hand in both of yours and you instinctively caressed his palm with your thumb upon feeling the familiar warmth of his hand.
"Sorry," you whispered.
"Don't be," he said almost immediately.
You gave him one last glance before looking at his hand and then to your Divination notes. You found yourself looking mostly at his hand rather than your notes for information, and if Tom had noticed, he said nothing about that.
You both settled into a comfortable silence and you wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.
Holding his hand like this, it made you think back to the times where he would hold your hand under the table and you both would pretend to be extremely interested in your Divination work.
"Are you alright?"
You looked up, startled. "Yes."
"You've been quiet," he stated softly.
You wished he wouldn't use that tender tone with you.
As you gazed back into his eyes, you thought about multiple excuses you could come up with. You usually would read out loud in Divination for him to write down or keep in mind.
The look in his eyes made you vulnerable, and all those excuses you thought of didn't matter because you could only think of the truth.
"If I'm being honest with you, I cannot concentrate well."
Tom laughed, a genuine one. One that made your eyes lit up and your heart skipping a beat.
"We can always lie like usual. We're good at that," you joked, a small smile breaking into your face.
He nodded with a smile, still looking at you with that same look he always had.
"Can we talk?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes," you replied without thinking.
"Walk with me," he had said to you in front of the Divination classroom.
He had his hand on your back as you both walked down the spiral staircase together. You revelled in the comfort of his touch, his presence, him.
At that moment, it felt like nothing had changed and you wanted to pretend so badly that it was true.
Only when you both reached an empty corridor, he stopped walking, causing you to turn around. You looked at him questioningly and you realised he wanted to talk now.
"I have missed you dearly," he started, and it looked as if the weight from his shoulders had been lifted off.
You smiled as your eyes burned. "I missed you too," you murmured, looking down on the ground so he couldn't see the look on your face. You didn't know when you would talk to him like this again, so you decided to let it out right at that moment. "I made a stupid, bad decision."
"We made a stupid and bad decision," he said quickly.
The pain you were feeling were unbearable that you wouldn't be able to stand looking at him but the moment you looked up and saw the look in his eyes, you recognised the pain they were showcasing. You didn't feel alone upon knowing he felt it too.
He then stepped forward as his hands came up. They stopped in the air, so hesitant, before he gently grabbed your shoulders.
"I am utterly in love with you," he whispered earnestly.
You exhaled sharply in surprise as you couldn't hold back your tears anymore, which pooled in your eyes.
"I'm sorry I suggested it in the first place," you choked out as a single tear fell from your eye.
"No—I'm sorry for letting you go."
"What went wrong?" you asked the infamous question tearfully. The question that had been stuck in your mind the whole week and even on the very day you two parted.
"I have been asking myself the same question," he said regretfully, leaning his forehead against yours. "What went so wrong that made me let go of something beautiful like you?"
He wiped your tear sorrowfully, the hurt evident in his face, because he caused this, he made you cry.
Overwhelmed by feelings, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you. It just felt right. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your body and bury his face into your neck. You felt wet droplets on your neck, and your chest ached because you caused that.
You chose to focus on him, having him in your arms again, finally.
"I missed you so much," you whispered, placing a gentle hand on the back of his head.
"I'm yours," he said breathlessly. "Completely."
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NOTE: I would like to thank you all greatly for the attention on 'how love poems urged tom riddle to confess'. The only way you're getting more TMR fics from me is by continuing to give me validation.
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Thank you Zzz・・・・
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Tom riddle x gn! Neutral reader (platonic) :->
Summary: The reader is a professor at hogwarts who believes that Tom should not be living in Wool's orphanage.
Warnings: angst, hurt/ comfort, and a slight ooc Tom
A/n: Let me know if I should make a part 2 for this, I have no idea why I am obsessed with teachers adopting students' trope.
A/n: Part 2 is here on my Masterlist!
Link to my previous Remus Lupin fanfic
It's not uncommon to find Tom Riddle sneaking around the hallways during your midnight patrols. If you're being honest, you've come to enjoy your late night talks with him, up until tonight.
He seems different. His green eyes hold something unfamiliar in them as he peers down you, his face a mask of unreadable emotion. This makes you slightly uncomfortable.
You go up to him, "Mr Riddle is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine…" He replies, his voice raspy and hollow. He stares at you with those unnaturally green eyes, and you can see something almost predatory in them. You know he's lying, but you're unsure what to do or say. "How are you, professor...?" He finally asks, his tone low and calm, as if he's trying to cover something up.
you knew Tom, stayed in an orphanage, and you had been pestering Dumbeldore to find Tom a more suitable place to stay. A home. You cared about this boy very much.
"Tom...are you sure, you know you can always tell me darling."
"Of course, I'm sure." A hint of a dangerous edge creeps into his voice. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side, still staring with that eerie intensity. It feels like he's looking straight through you. "Can't I just be alone right now?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice. What could be bothering him?
"Well, you can't be alone walking around the hallways, especially now that patrol times for prefects have finished. Would you like to come down to the kitchens with me for a glass of milk, then you can go to bed?" You say with a warm voice.
He pauses for a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh. "You're right. Fine... I'll go with you." He crosses his arms, and his body tenses. He glances down the hall and then turns back towards you. "Lead the way..." He replies, his voice cool and emotionless again. He seemed eager to leave behind whatever he was just thinking about.
"Alright." You both enter the kitchens and make him some warm milk with honey and hand it to him. You had wanted to ask him about what he was doing up so late.
"Thank you..." He takes the glass from you but doesn't make a move towards drinking it. "So... What brings you down here?" He asks dryly, his emerald-green eyes gazing at you with the same intensity. It's as if he's looking into your very soul. It's unnerving, and you can't shake the feeling that this whole situation doesn't feel right. You feel like he's hiding something, but you can't figure out what.
"Oh, you know darling, just your usual teacher patrols, what about you?" You asked him with a yawn.
"Nothing." He answers simply. "I can't sleep." He takes a sip from the warm glass of milk, the sound of his lips against he glass bowl echoing in the quiet kitchen. All around the two of you is silence, the only sound being Tom's muffled sipping. Finally, after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, he looks back up at you, his emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you really believe that's why I came down here?" He asks, his voice cold and sharp. "How naive of you..."
"Tom?" You are confused by his sudden coldness. You begin to stroke his back gently, calming him down.
He flinches when your hand first makes contact with him, but as you continue to stroke his back, he settles in your touch. He sighs heavily through his nose, and his eyes seem to soften a little. He lets you continue for a few seconds, and then he suddenly pushes you away. "Back off." He growls, his voice low and intimidating. He takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets. His voice has taken on a sinister quality, and it's clear he's not in the mood to be touched. Your hand remains outstretched for a moment, and then you slowly retract it.
"Ok darling," you say softly.
He gives you a cold, icy stare for a few seconds, and then he suddenly sighs again. His body deflates slightly, and his demeanour changes again completely. He seems almost defeated now, as if all his anger and aggression have disappeared. His voice takes on a different tone, one that almost sounds sad, as he speaks again. "I'm sorry, professor. I shouldn't have done that." He bows his head slightly. "I just... had some unpleasant memories brought up. Please forgive me..."
"It's OK, darling." You aren't sure if you should bring this up with him, but you do anyway.
"Tom....how would you feel if you didn't go back to your orphanage?"
He freezes when you mention the topic of his orphanage, and the same predatory gleam appears in his eyes once more. He seems to be holding his breath, waiting to see how you'll react. You can sense his body tensing, and you have a feeling that if you push him too far, he'll probably attack you. This is when you notice he's also slowly backing away from you. He speaks in a voice as cold as ice, just like his stare, and you suddenly feel like you've just walked into a room full of snakes. "I would never speak to you ever again."
you felt disappointed, "Oh...I see, so you like your orphanage."
"I love my orphanage." He replies flatly, his voice sharp and sarcastic, as if this were all some big joke to him. His eyes are locked on yours, and he's still staring at you with that odd, predatory gaze. "This place is like a second home to me." He's being completely insincere, yet you can tell he expects you to believe every word he's saying. He's hiding something, and he's trying hard to disguise it.
he was trying to be smart, but you were smarter. You were going to tell him of an offer he couldn't refuse. "Oh...ok then... I was just going to offer you an apprenticeship that would require you to live with me, that's all!" you said in a well disguised false voice.
His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why would you offer me..." He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, then he stares you down as the predatory gleam returns to his icy eyes. "Why would you ever offer me an apprenticeship?" There's something dangerous in his voice again. He seems to be trying to stay calm, but you can see he's getting impatient. He shifts on his feet and leans closer to you, as if he's ready for an altercation.
"Because you are a smart, talented, young individual who I believe with the proper training can become a great auror. But I know being an auror isn't something on your mind, but my apprenticeship could help you gain favour in the ministry. You could even become the future minister of magic." You said truthfully.
He continues to stare you down, but as you explain yourself, his eyes soften slightly, and his body relaxes. His voice is cool and calm again, but his gaze is still somewhat insistent. "What exactly would this apprenticeship entail? How long would it last? And in what way would it help me?" He puts a particular emphasis on that last word, and you're not sure if he even noticed. "You'll need to be very detailed if you expect me to believe any of this." His emerald eyes burn into yours once more, as if studying you for inconsistencies.
you conjure up a letter containing all the details of the apprenticeship..
"Hmm.." He seems to be legitimately considering what you've said, the predatory gleam now completely gone from his eyes. He takes the letter and studies it for a few moments, making sure to read everything from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare makes you feel like you're being judged and analyzed. "And why can't I just accept any ordinary auror apprenticeship? Why are you so adamant about having me work for you directly?" He tilts his head slightly to the side, his emerald eyes still locked on you as he waits for your response.
"The auror apprenticeship is useless. I should know I did one,but my apprenticeship isn't just about defence against the dark arts. it's on everything to do with magic."
"Also.....I don't want you going back to Wool's Orphanage Tom, that place isn't good for you it's an awful place. Dumbeldore may not care, but I care, I know... you're slipping out of control Tom......I don't want you to get hurt!"
His gaze softens again, and you can see a hint of emotion cross his face. "You know about my orphanage, then?" He asks in a quieter voice. "You know... you care?" He suddenly steps closer to you until he's right in front of you. He's still keeping a firm facade, but you can see that this is clearly a sensitive topic, and it hits close to home. You're not sure how much more he can take before he breaks and becomes vulnerable.
"Yes," you say, your voice is kind,gentle, and loving.
He's overcome by a sudden wave of emotion. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Once he's collected himself again, he looks up at you, and you can see tears starting to form in his eyes. You can see the walls he's built up over the years are starting to crumble. "Do... do you really want me to... to leave?" He stutters out, looking at you through misty, tear-filled eyes. You've never seen him like this before. He's normally so aloof and cold. Who could have known he'd be so vulnerable?
"Tom.....I'm going to tell you something, ok?"
He nods quickly. "O-of course." He replies, his voice wavering slightly. He bites his lower lip, and you see a tear fall from his eye to his cheek. He doesn't wipe it away but instead turns his face slightly in an attempt to hide it. "What is i-it?"
You take a deep breath." I went to Wool's Orphanage when I was a child..... I am an orphan, too."
"You?" He looks at you in shock, his face crumpling and tears flooding from his eyes. He steps forward and pulls you into a hug so tight you almost can't breathe. "Y-you're..." His voice is shaking, and his sobs are almost too much for you to bear as you stand there with him in your arms. "Thank you..." He says in between sobs. "Thank you for caring..."
you hug him back. "I know exactly what you're going through. And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."
The end
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Text
|Some Things Never Change|
Tom Riddle x gn!reader
Description: The same words, yet different situations and meanings.
Genre: A bit of romance, angst
Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of blood
A/N: I wanted to bring back my Harry Potter era and writing about Tom Riddle is a good way to start! Enjoy this short little drabble.
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"Tom please." Was what you said to him during your first conversation, asking him to let you sit beside him because you didn't feel comfortable next to others.
"Tom please." Was what you said to him when you were asking him to help you study for potions.
"Tom please." Was what you said to him, asking him to join you at the yule ball.
"Tom please." Was what you said to him, telling him to enjoy his birthday with you.
"Tom please." Was what you said to him, trying to stop him from splitting his soul.
"Tom please." Was what you said to him, begging to become a death eater just to be with him.
And "Tom please." Was what you said to him during your last conversation, as you were bleeding to death in his arms. Tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He didn't mean for this to happen. And yet the world always finds a way to make him alone and miserable.
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