Gonna Go Cry Now Brb

gonna go cry now brb

Mimicry

☾∘•⋅∙ FINAL •⋅∙∘☽

☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ☆ Part 8 ☆ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ★ FINAL★

Wordcount: 1k Content Warning: enough fluff to kill several fully grown men.

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝔸 - 𝕄 @arana-alpha @cranberrypills @dear-fifi @dropssofjupitter @empath-bunny @expectoscamander @fish-eg @grimdevil @hueanhdang @itsjustfics @charmolypi-reverie @just-wordsandthoughts @lemirabitur @lucys-brain @mentally-in-northern-italy @mikariell95 @moatsnow​ ℕ - ℤ @nothinghcppens @obliviouspotter​ @oui-magnifique​ @pearlstiare​ @raven-riddle​ @seriouslyginnychase​ @silverdelirium​ @suicide-sweetheart636​ @sunles​ @tallyovie​ @tm-mrvl-rddl​ @toasterking​ @valentinecarnage​ @voidmalfoy​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @whoevenfrickenknows​ @whoreforgeorgeandfred​ @wizardcherryblossom​

𝕄𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕔𝕣𝕪 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 (ℂ𝕃𝕆𝕊𝔼𝔻) 𝔸 - 𝕄 @aaleksmorozova @anakinishotdoe  @avocados-de-mexico @bornbeautiful123 @casuallybeez @chanultis @dannalikestoread @dearseungie @debesteimanetje  @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @euphoniumpets @fluffycoconutcookies  @groovy-slytherin @hannahhobnob @helldottir @heyeu @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @je-suis-de-retour @jinxqsu @juggysgirlfriend @juul4jesus @kiaralein @mariealaina @marinettepotterandplagg @megnotfound @mellifluous-cosmos @missryerye​ ℕ - ℤ @priii​  @randomthelily​ @rosierose1920​ @runawayolives​ @snoah1 @the-almond-dinger​  @thebadasssass​ @theblueblub​ @thejulynotes​ @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw​ @tommyriddle24 @toujurspure @unearthlydreams​ @weasleyloveee​ @ximaginx​ @28cnn

You meet him in the Great Hall at nine in the morning sharp, though (predictably) Tom is early. He’s waiting at the end of the Slytherin table with an open book and a cup of steaming tea, a lemon slice floating lazily across the surface where he’s holding it nearly to his lips, clearly having been distracted by the words on his page. There’s a faint pull between the dark angles of his brows, a tiny little mark of concentration that makes you smile. “Hey,” you grin as you place your hands on the table opposite him.

Tom immediately looks up, concentration vanishing.

“Ready to go?” you prompt, bouncing once in excitement.

Instead of replying to this in any meaningful way, Tom only continues to look at you, and you catch a glimmer of something in his dark eyes before he gently sets down his tea in its saucer and stands, his book flipping itself shut where he leaves it behind on the table. “Yes,” he says with a quiet smile, stepping around the table towards you. His hand seems to nearly reach for yours as he comes your side but he hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty on his face like he’s caught himself doing something spontaneous that he’s second-guessing and he pulls back a bit –

You reach forward and take his hand, lacing your fingers together as you turn for the door pretending like you hadn’t noticed this. “Where are we going then?” you ask cheerfully, pulling him alongside with you. “Darcey told me that Honeydukes has these new sugar quill thingies that you can secretly eat in class, so that’s sort of a must for me, sorry.”

Tom is smiling at the ground when you sneak glance at him. “We can go anywhere you like,” he says, looking up at the open doors and the crisp morning outside. His hand tightens around yours a little bit, like he’s checking it’s really there.

“Oh, be careful Riddle,” you snicker, “I’ll set you up in Madam Puddifoot’s for eleven hours straight if you say things like that to me.”

“You’d enjoy that, would you?” he says smoothly, giving you a dry look. “Spending eleven hours in Madam Puddifoot’s?”

“No, but I’d enjoy how much you’d hate it,” you grin, ignoring the lingering stares from the various students filing towards the carriages at your and Tom’s entwined hands.

“Your plan is a terrible one,” Tom smirks, his gaze drifting across the chilly courtyard as you cross it. “I wouldn’t hate that in the slightest.”

Your brows raise. “Seriously?”

“You’d expect me to hate spending eleven hours alone with you?” he asks, his lips curling into a smile that borders on devious and you definitely do not blush at the sight of it. “I’m essentially an expert at the practice by now,” he finishes softly, watching your reaction with visible amusement, “and at least this way you’ll actually be able to talk to me.”

You wrench your eyes off him and fix them on the line of carriages ahead. “You know, one could call it a bit creepy how much time you’ve spent watching me sleep,” you say in a hasty attempt to regain the upper hand.

“One could,” he agrees with relentless nonchalance, “but then again, one could also call it magnificently romantic.”

Your eyes snap to his to find him smirking at you again. “Up to you, I suppose,” he says as he slips his other hand into his pocket with a glimmer in his dark eyes that makes your heart skip a beat despite yourself.

“Prick,” you say without heat, trying not to smile. “Why are you in such a good mood, then? Is the fact that you’re finally seeing the outside world? Those things there are called trees, Tom, and up there, those are clouds –”

“I go outside,” Tom interrupts dryly. “I really have no idea how you ever formed the impression that I –”

“Well for one you’re practically a ghost,” you snicker, waving at his pale face with your free hand, “oh, and then there’s the desk in the library with a Tom-shaped indent worn into it… But don’t avoid the question.”

“What question?” he says smoothly.

“What’s got you so chipper?”

Tom’s eyes slide to you. His expression holds none of the teasing humour from moments before, replaced with something heavy and quiet and calm and you blink, your heart thudding a little harder than strictly necessary like it can tell what Tom’s thinking better than you can. “Nothing,” he says quietly, watching you.

You’ve both stopped in the queue for the carriages and you’re very glad for it, because you’re suddenly aware that you’re not quite able to look away from him standing beside you, the way his winter robe casts his skin in smooth contrast and draws out the black of his hair, or how you’re close enough to see his crescent coal-coloured lashes, or how his lips are still a little swollen from kissing him yesterday, or how there’s a mark that looks suspiciously like the impression of your teeth on his throat. There’s nothing but heavy heat in his dark eyes and you try to remember what it was like to be afraid of him, but it all seems very far away now, all that coldness and anger is in some distant place on other side of the immeasurable expression on his face.

Tom leans forward slowly, calmly, his gaze unmoving from yours and you hold your breath as you watch him dip his head. He softly presses his lips to yours and your eyes fall shut, your cheeks flush, he’s temptingly warm against the nip in the air and you lean a little closer. When he gently pulls away, you fall back on your heels without having noticed coming up onto them, and you stare at him with tingling surprise.

“Just you,” Tom murmurs, and he says it with a very small, slightly tentative, but wonderfully gentle smile.

Your own smile blooms like he’s planted some of his own on your lips.

A call from ahead announcing a free carriage makes Tom look up and he quickly pulls you forward with him towards it.

There’s a long day ahead, there are shops to explore and cafes to visit, there’s tonight, there’s tomorrow, there are shadowed alcoves in the corridors and spaces behind bookshelves you’d like to pull Tom into at some point, and there’s a million things you’d like to do with him once you get there.

But right now you’ve never been so captivated by anything than you are by the sight than him glancing at you with that smile lingering on his lips and his hand holding yours.

And more pressingly.

You’ve never loved him more.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ☆ Part 8 ☆ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ★ FINAL★

A/N: Thank you so so much to everyone who commented on this fic and sent me lovely messages and gave me so much support!!! You’re the absolute best, and you quite literally make writing worth all the work 💖💖💖

what a waste of a monologue... (t.m.r.)

college is supposed to be the time of your life but here i am balding over graph limits. how am i supposed to live laugh love in these conditions? anyway yes, anotha one. it’s 2 am where i live so very unedited.

shout out to @stxrsworld for being so sweet and cash money 💕

warning: underage students drinking oooh 📞👮

timeline: takes place after joe mumma but before kobe. tom x reader.

“I am a woman. Not an object, not a prize, not a possession that you can just demand to have. I have a personality, interests… For example, I like to chef it up with the house elves late at night once in a while. Did you know that? No, you didn’t because you don’t respect girls enough to get to know them. Merlin, you don’t even have the decency to accept my no for an answer…and calling me names?” You put your hand over you chest and stared in disbelief. “I wonder how your mother feels to have pushed such a foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach out of her poompoom? I know, I know, a crude thing to say, but I tried to be the nice guy, buddy. But you made me like this, Rosier…a monster…” you look away shamefully.

“And scene…how was that Katy Purry?” You breathe out. The fat cat meow’d and jumped onto your bed, signaling you to go to sleep. You frowned, glancing at your door where you can hear the muffled music from the common room party.

But sleep was the last thing on your mind, and Katy probably knew that. You were still in your robes and you were far too anxious for retirement.

“I’m going to do it. Tonight is the time.”

Finding out Rosier waited for you outside of Potions last week freaked you out to say the least. You wouldnt think you would say this, but thank Slughorn and his detention. Better yet, thank Tom Riddle for covering your sorry behind for reasons that have yet to become clear. Since then, it seemed like you’ve been seeing the Prefect more often, in the halls that is. More of him and less of Rosier. But the all brawns no brain quidditch player still shot his shot whenever he had the chance.

“I say we do arithmetics back in my dorm. Add a bed, divide the legs, and we can multiplyyy…” the brunette whispered in your ear, just loud enough for Orion and Mulciber snickered.

But you blocked every time.

You rolled your eyes and stopped writing.

“What about subtraction? Because I’d be more than happy to cut off your-“

Yeah, you were a baddie at defense, but it still bothered you on the inside. What started as annoyance grew into exhaustion to the point where you didn’t even want to deal with him. Hence why you used Riddle as a shield that one evening. But having to get other people involved was the last straw.

“(Y/n)…glad you could make it…” your roommate Nancy slurred. You held you breath at the fire whiskey and vomit smell that fanned your face.

“Actually I’m-“

“Nance we’re supposed to be sticking together. Hey (y/n), don’t drink the punch she puked in it,” her friend smiles, guiding the giggling redhead away.

Your stomach turned in instant regret. The flashing lights in the dark, the loud music, and smell of alcohol and sweaty pubescents made you dizzy. Your mission rerouted to finding a place to sit.

The sofas around the fireplace were pretty much empty but clearly occupied. Robes and purses were thrown all over. But it would have to do for now.

You made your way to the far corner of the long couch. The moment you sat down you jumped up as if it were hot coals, grabbing your behind.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t see you—Tom?!” Your eyes bulged out of your skull and suddenly embarrassment began to creep onto your face.

Thank the stars the lack of lighting hid your red face, one thing it was good for.

He rubbed his eyes and covered his yawn, but soon sobered, his eyes widening and long limbs sprawling across the couch in panic.

“What in the—(y/l/n)?” He looked at you confused, before looking at his surroundings. Last thing he remembered was his corridor rounds.

Two hours earlier.

Avery ran to Tom’s now sleeping form, picking up the arms of his limp body. “You’re so going to kill me if you find out.”

“He won’t,” Rosier tucked his wand into his pocket. “Now bring him to his dormitory and go get the punch. And make sure its the red one not the blue one,” he demands, “the blue one made my tummy hurt last time…”

Avery dragged Tom’s 6 foot self to the common room before propping him onto the couch to catch his breath.

“Hey Avery,” Nott called out. “Pumpkin Pasty?” He offered holding out a platter.

Avery dropped Tom’s arm carelessly. “Ooh don’t mind if I do,” he walked over, wiggling his fingers before picking one.

“Those idiots,” he mumbled angrily. Tom was equally angry as he was embarrassed. How could he let his guard down to have himself bewitched to fall asleep? Not gonna lie though it was a nice nap considering the lack of sleep due to final exams and Tom’s obsession over perfection.

“What are you doing here? You’re not social.” He turned his attention back to you.

“Uh wh-wh… excuse me?” You stuttered, offended.

Now fully conscious and aware, Tom decided it was better to seek his revenge on Rosier, the only Slytherin with such audacity, later on. He was a patient man.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms as he sat back into his seat.

“Yeah you’re right. Actually, I’m looking for Rotisserie,” you admit. Tom thought about who you could possibly be talking about before the switch turned on in his brain. A frown followed.

“I’m confronting him,” you respond as if reading his mind. His face relaxed and you could be mistakened, but was that a sigh of relief?

“Yeah you see, I got a head ache the moment I got in here because my friend—who also threw up in the punch, yeah don’t drink the punch—her breath was kick-in!. So I went to find a seat but it was really dark and you’re in grey, so I went..”Tom’s face of amusement went into surprised as you reenacted sitting in his lap, but not sitting down all the way before turning back around to continue your story, “but then you were there so I was like ahhhh then you woke and were like ahhhh….so yeah”

Tom stared at you blankly, but in his mind he was like man this bitch is weird. His eyes moved to behind you.

“Speaking of…” you turned around to follow his gaze.

the devil…

You rolled your shoulder back and took a deep breath.

Its game time.

He was slightly tipsy, stumbling a little as he chatted with Lestrange. They parted ways and you opened your mouth to start your speech.

“I am a wo-“

“Stop talking.” Riddle instructs.

“Wha-“ You feel a pair of hands go to your waist, pulling you down. Rosier’s shocked expression beat yours.

“What is this?” He looked at you two disturbed. Before you could even shift out of discomfort, Tom’s grip tightened.

“What does it look like?” Your human chair responded.

“Let’s get you another drink,” Lestrange returns, grabbing his shoulder to turn away. He manually shuts Rosier’s dropped jaw, sending you a wink before walking off. “wouldn’t wanna catch flies…”

“That was…quick thinking….”you say mindlessly, still processing what just happened. What a waste of a monologue…

“You can let go now,” you turn to Tom who was asleep?

You moved to get up only for him to pull you into his chest, making you let out a yelp. What has gotten into this man child?

“Stop moving,” he mumbles with his eyes still closed.

“Riddle, what are you doing?” You lift your head up to look at him.

“You owe me.” You scoffed.

“I don’t owe any man-“ he tucks your face into his shoulder, patting your hair, shushing you as he does so.

“sleep.” Tom says drunkily.

perhaps the side effects of the sleeping spell have yet to wear off.

kobe! (t.m.r.)

summary: what can i say, tomothy shablagoo hates quidditch

“i hate quidditch”

“i know”

“i despise it”

“i know tom, but we’re here to support our friends,” you remind.

tom huffs in defeat and sits back, watching the the slytherin players get into their positions, eyeing their hufflepuff opponents.

“ladies and gentlemen…” the commentator introduces the two teams, each corresponding house cheering for their side.

“nott! malfoy!” you cheer, standing up and applauding like a hyped mom.

“must you be so loud?” tom looked up at you in distaste. you pause your clapping and turn to him with furrowed brows, flicking his forehead.

“did you just flick me?” he says with disbelief.

“shhh it’s starting!” your hand grabs onto his face, tom watching through your splayed fingers.

the beginning was not very climatic. there was a lot of dodging and good defense on both ends. but as the game progressed, hufflepuff began to grow tired, while slytherin on the other hand was getting fired up. using this to their advantage, your house scored 10 points.

“yes! let’s goo!!” you cheered. the abrupt movement of your arms knocking toms hot dog out of his hand mid-bite.

he crossed his arms in disappointment. but he couldn’t be too mad because of how happy you were.

eventually one of the slytherin chasers got attacked by a bludger, causing him to fold like a tortilla, falling down into the pit. in response, rosier was called to replace him.

you rolled your eyes.

you prayed rosier wouldn’t get any playing time. if there was anyone who couldn’t take a hint it was him. he constantly flirted with you despite your disinterest before you and riddle got together. even then, he would still remind you how he would be waiting for you. not when tom was around of course. he wasn’t that bold. your boyfriend never found out because you begged your witnessing friends not to tell him because merlin knows what would happen to the boy.

the game proceeded as normal, until rosier spotted you in the crowd.

now this was trouble.

you snuck a glance at tom who was playing tictactoe with a first year that also seemed to not have interest in the game. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“this ones for you (y/n)!” toms head immediately shot up. people were looking around for who he was talking to.

“oh no…” you groaned, hiding your face in embarrassment. the little devil winked at you.

instant death wish.

“did he just-“

rosier confidently pulled his arm back, launching the quaffle forward toward the goal. “kobe!” the spectators hold their breath in anticipation.

only to miss.

in response, an awkward silence blanketed the crowd. nott tried to cover his snicker with his gloved hand only to receive a smack to the back of his head by malfoy.

the wrong day to be bold rosier.

despite the weight of the second hand embarrassment of the whole stadium, he still had the audacity to take another glance at you…and your upset boyfriend.

“now i really hate quidditch”

tom stood up from his seat and grabbed your hand, pulling you up with him. he gripped his wand and within a blink of an eye you two disappeared from the stands.

rip kobe we miss you black mamba❤️

full vid creds to owner

summary: early on in their relationship, reader is still a little shy around thomas thee stallion.

“may i see your notes ?” tom asked as he began to pack up. you stopped dead in your tracks, caught off guard.

“um…”

“i missed the last part she mentioned about the life line when palm reading.” he reasoned.

your divinations professor sipped her tea in the background, knowing dang well her lesson was not on palm reading that day. but you didn’t know that, and neither did the head boy. you were off doodling, while he was distracted staring at you from across the class.

“ah, i didn’t write any…” you excused, avoiding eye contact.

“don’t be silly, i saw you jotting down notes,” he grinned slightly, then stopped when he realized what he said.

professor poured more tea into her cup.

wanting to move past his slip up, he gently grabbed your books from you, hoisting them up on top of his. why were you acting so suspicious?

the salazar heir took your parchment sticking out from its spot wedged into your divinations book.

“oh” he said awkwardly, eyeing your page sized sketch of a cat.

“yeah…” you say embarrassed.

“well at least add some whiskers”

instant family (t.m.r.)

parent figure tom? pretty short with a lil sum sum at the end. there’s not enough dad!tom content so I tried to make my own. dad!tom makes me think of two people-- edward father cullen (first part) and Klaus daddy michaelson (second part). anyway...

“hand me the child.” you would have happily obliged if the crying baby wasn’t already seized from your arms. you were about to go off on him, but the site in front of you softened the crease in between your eyebrows. strong forearms cradling the length of the baby’s body, and a hand impressively supporting the neck and head. you have never seen tom so delicate, yet protective. it was almost funny seeing tom and his tall ass self with such a small little thing.

“you do small bounces,” tom demonstrated, the infants cries lowering to heavy breaths of sniffles.

your pride usually would’ve gotten the best of you, pushing you to say something along the lines of not needing toms help. the first two days he avoided the child like it had the plague. he didn’t even want to take in silas in the first place.

“please tom, walburga is my friend, and you know how her family is. the Black family won’t have a scandal. the baby has nowhere to go!” he finally agreed, but made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the baby. you knew what you were getting into. tom not being the biggest fan of children was never news. he didn’t hate them, but he didn’t seem like one to volunteer at a nursery either. maybe it was because he was forced to be around them growing up at Wool’s…that’s what you figured.

“and white noise, they like that,” he added, voice no louder than a whisper, eyes focused on silas’ face the whole time. you stood there mouth gaping like a fish. the baby had been bawling for hours. you tried feeding him, shaking his one toy left from his mother, and nothing seemed to satisfy him for more than two minutes. he did seem to have fun pulling on your hair until he nearly scalped you, forcing you to open his little hand. that’s what really upset him. and here comes tom riddle who apparently not only talks to snakes but also speaks baby.

“how are you so good at this?” you spoke softly, mimicking toms tone. you gently placed a hand on his shoulder to take a peek at the baby who was fighting sleep as if he had other places to be.

“at the orphanage, there was a newborn named gabriel.” the words came out of toms mouth effortlessly. the few times he talked about his time in london were not of detail. and he was usually much more guarded and careful with his delivery. “because of the war, the orphanage didn’t have the staff to take in another child, especially an infant. so i looked after him,” silas coo’d and stretched his small arms, twisting in toms arms. he settled down soon after, sleep winning.

you were lost at words. tom didn’t like sympathy he saw it as pity. you didn’t want to push more questions either. his vulnerability to talk about Wools was enough really.

“thank you for sharing that with me my love,” the best you could do, as you leaned into his arm watching the baby’s sleeping form. tension released from toms shoulders.

“rest now, syphilis,” he whispered, running a hand over the infants small head. you smiled at his affection, then lifted your head abruptly to look at your partner.

“tom, his name is silas…”

“oh.”

bonus headcannon 

in another life where tom is not so experienced and has a son

tom as a new parent was interesting. he may have read every book in the library on parenting, but let’s be real, nothing could ever fully prepare one for a baby. “oh no, no stop crying. y-y/n! come here! it’s crying!” he panicked, relief crossing his face the moment you walked in.“it??”

but seeing tom not being perfectly good at something was amusing. well, maybe not for him though...“it’s not going on,” tom says says in between grunts. he was currently trying to twist the baby’s foot into the shoe. his son just sat there like a sack of potato’s staring down at his father helplessly. “and he’s not even helping!”

although he did get frustrated at times, tom riddle discovered that parenthood is not a task, but rather a journey. and there were definitely rewards in addition to being a dad. “you should’ve seen it, he was crawling!” you dropped your bag onto the couch and walked toward him. “really?! where i wanna see!” tom grinned excitedly. “right over…oh no where did he go…” tom whipped his head around looking for the toddler. the familiar mop of curly black hair was spotted near the staircase, crawling at superhero speed. “no no no stairs is next week’s lesson!”

of course, what is a riddle heir without a father that wishes nothing but success for their child? “my son, one day you will rule the masses…” he spoke softly to the one year old passed out in his arms. “tom…” you warned.

bro in 2014-2016 i read a reader/ocxdraco fanfic that was more of a comedy than romance it was pretty cannon except for the fact that the reader/oc shot voldemort during the battle of hogwarts cuz her evil stepdad was working with him or something…idk i can’t find it and wish i could reread it for the memories. is there an account or site where people help look for hp fanfics?