Hi!!! so glad you see you back!!! i hope you're having fun writing!!! ive been re-reading all ur fics, including seven devils, and-may i just say-fucking *mwah* chefs kiss, perfect. you're such an inspiration for my tom fics and seven devils has inspired one of my current x reader fics 'the diary of Tom Riddle'.
thank you for being you and being an awesome writer <3
HELL YEAH BB I am indeed!! 🤸🏼🤸🏼🤸🏼
Ugh thank u so much this is delightful, I famously love a cheeky Tom riddle fic PARTICULARLY a good SI OC 🤌🤌🤌
For a request would love to have tom’s pov of the holidays such as the missed kiss and when charlie asked about his feelings and when he found out they actually weren’t dating
Sequel Snippet Spree: Seven Devils
A/N: [I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT MY 2K EVENT FROM 100 YEARS AGO, I JUST FOUND THIS SITTING IN MY WIPS FOLDER AND WAS LIKE OMG I SHOULD SIMPLY POST THIS] Also I'm already writing Tom's pov of Charlie's 'confrontation,' and the Christmas night by the fireplace as well bc the angst is simply SO FUN TO WRITE MY GOD THIS MAN I love making him this fucking dramatic, I just really wanted to post this now bc I like it :) [GIF CREDIT!]
･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.
ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 (there are serious issues with the tagging system atm and idk how to fix it sorry, I tried for like half an hour 😭)
He slept badly, of course. He always slept badly. The storm woke him before dawn with the first gust of heavy-handed rain on the windows and he knew the second his eyes had opened that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Rain like this always made his stomach sink. At Wool’s it had always meant cold, damp nights followed by cold, grey days, too much noise trapped inside with too many people. Waking warm and comfortable with such a storm outside was still surreal.
Very suddenly Tom remembered the previous night and instantly all remaining hope that he might rest a little longer disintegrated. He didn’t know what it was about the darkness that had made it so easy to say things he’d never say in a well-lit room, telling her about the fear he’d felt seeing Marina at Voldemort’s mercy in the Manor, admitting how much he still thought about it, asking her about her own night terrors –
Tom’s eyes fell shut in embarrassment and he took a long, regretful breath. He shouldn’t have asked her that. Not so indelicately, not without some indication that she even wanted to tell him.
He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and then let his hands fall limp off his knees. He didn’t like how they looked, the hands of a stranger suspended on the ends of his forearms. Fatigue clouded dully behind his open eyes and with it, the bitter desire that for once he might wake feeling like he’d ever slept at all.
He looked at her.
The nascent grey dawn painted him a faint picture but he could still very easily make her out, her gold hair across the pillow, the thick quilt half-covering her sleeping face. She was completely still. He couldn’t even hear her breath. Tom grit his teeth and looked away, his stony gaze falling back on his fingers. He’d been extraordinarily stupid to think he could do this seamlessly. He’d been extraordinarily stupid in a number of ways when it came to Marina, actually, stupid in ways he could hardly bear to think about. Thinking things were different to the way they were. Thinking she might be coming to feel things for him that she clearly didn’t.
Misinterpreting things.
He would happily call it ‘humiliating,’ were his pride wounded more than his hopes – but he wasn’t so lucky. ‘Disappointing’ was far more apt, though it fell stratospherically short of describing the feelings that had taken hold of him seeing Charlie lean down and kiss her, and realising exactly how extraordinarily stupid Tom had really been. He stood in silence and turned for the kitchen, leaving Marina sleeping quietly behind him without allowing himself to look at her again.
He should have known better. Marina had met him at his worst, she’d known the depth of his true ugliness right from the very beginning, the selfish, ignorant, ridiculous child he’d been seven years prior. It had been monstrously vain, deluded of him to think that she might come to see him as something… else.
He should never have entertained the notion in the first place, that she might be looking at him the same way he’d found himself looking at her, or that she might feel as he felt when he touched her. The bitter embarrassment overtook him again, the thought that he’d misinterpreted his own feelings as something palpable between them, some corporeal presence or understandingthat she sensed too. It was so shamefully naïve.
Tom angrily yanked the cupboard open and seized a mug, and only just caught himself from slamming it onto the counter in the last second lest he wake her. He placed it down carefully and then stared at it in deep resentment.
He knew he was being ridiculous.
The knowledge did very little to sooth the acidic disappointment seeping out of some fissure that had opened up deep in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie’s arm around her on the couch, her leaning against his chest, their natural playfulness and the seamlessness of how she touched him. It had been an unforgiving reminder that Marina wasn’t like him, she didn’t hoard herself away like he did, and it seemed so painfully obvious to him now that she should be with someone like Charlie, someone like her, who laughed loudly and smiled openly and moved easily.
God, he should have known. That’s what made it even more unbearable. He’d seen the way Charlie had said goodbye to her before they’d left for Azkaban, the fierce concern, the tight hug, the familiar touch. He’d wondered at the time, she and Charlie had been at the Burrow together for months by that point after all, but he’d been so staunchly confident that the feeling prickling across his skin had been surprise, or simply embarrassment at witnessing a moment of someone else’s intimacy, or even (as he had really managed to convince himself one night as he’d laid awake thinking about it) that it was simply surreal to see Marina in someone’s arms just because he’d known her for so long.
Ridiculous, the things he’d tried to tell himself.
It was envy. He knew it now of course, and really he’d known it then, too, in some reserved and much ignored part of his mind. Why else had he offered her his hand like that to Apparate? Just to see what she’d do, how she’d react, if she’d be so at ease with him, too – and he’d turned her reaction over in his mind like a puzzle for too many a night afterwards, the way she’d stared at him in something a little more pink-cheeked than just surprise, how she’d tried to play it off but how she’d not quite met his eyes when she took his hand. That had been his downfall, he thought, that he’d really managed to delude himself into thinking that perhaps it was a lack of ease, not the presence of it, that betrayed Marina’s feelings.
And God, Greece.
Tom exhaled grimly and waved his wand at the silver coffee pot, dispassionately watching his mug fill.
He couldn’t even count all the things he’d misinterpreted in Greece.
Not fully paying attention, Tom spooned too much sugar into his cup and stirred, the crisp little sounds of the silver against the ceramic seeming very far away. Yesterday morning Marina had told him she’d forgotten about Lovegood like she was confessing a long life of stomach-turning sin, like she’d expected him to be disgusted, or at least furious. He’d seen the weariness of it all on her face before she’d rested her head on his shoulder, just like the night after they’d gotten back and she’d fallen asleep against him and he’d not been able to bear moving and waking her –
Shame swallowed him fetid and hot, and Tom’s head hung, his fingers gripping the counter hard. Yesterday Marina had been frighteningly listless, visibly guilt-ridden and exhausted beyond recognition, falling against him like the magnitude of telling him those things had cost her the very last of her energy – and he’d still not been able to stop himself from thinking of how good she’d felt leaning against his shoulder, from wondering if it meant she might feel something for him, from misinterpreting it through his own selfish lens and the thought of it now made him sick.
“Idiot,” he muttered in disgust, before remembering she was only around the corner. His lips pressed together hard.
Just for that he deserved it all, having to watch her and Charlie be together when he…
When he what, exactly?
Tom laced his fingers around his mug, not caring that it was still far too hot and his skin prickled uncomfortably at the heat.
I am just a curious anon- did you make money on those fanfic platforms with seven devils? I hope you did.
Also thank you for the book, I read and reread it! Thank you for creating this parallel universe so well designed and written. Cheers!
Oh not at all!! Writing has always been a labour of love for me, and fanfic certainly always will be ❤️ in 2022/2023 I had 3 very very lovely people donate to my Paypal so I think that's about as close as I've come to making money off my writing?
Prompt: Congratulations on 2 K followers!! 🎉🎉🎉 Honestly I just want you to have fun with a little snippet from Seven Devils! Adventurous, domestic, smutty, whatever you'd like to share!
A/N: Thank you so much for this one @dravenwitchmusings! I got quite a few requests for Seven Devils in the 2k event, so here’s the first of the long-awaited one-shots!!
{GIF CREDIT for header below! That blog is incredible btw, their work is literally all stunning check it out}
It was a blistering afternoon and Marina’s shoulders were feeling uncomfortably warm in that dry, papery way that told her she’d definitely find them a little burnt when they finally got back to the hotel – but still the Mediterranean sky remained relentlessly cloudless, and the crooked white walls of the buildings fringing the wizarding street were doing little to ward off the bright hot sunlight. She was definitely regretting wearing the summery yellow dress, wishing she’d chosen something that covered more of her skin.
“I’m sunburnt,” Marina said matter-of-factly.
“I offered you a Sun-ward Charm,” Tom replied, not looking concerned in the slightest as he continued to peer around the street. “And you refused.”
“I thought December was supposed to be cooler than this,” she grumbled.
“There,” said Tom, nodding at a little shop on his right. “That looks like what Angelos described, doesn’t it?”
Marina leaned forward to look around him and frowned at the sun-baked shopfront. The green paint was peeling off the door in long, shriveled strips that fluttered listlessly above the sweltering concrete, the wooden frames bleached and fissured like old driftwood, and the glass panels of the windows were so cracked and grimy that it was impossible to make out anything inside. “Huh,” she said humorously. “So that’s why he told us not to be dissuaded by its appearance.”
“I’ll go ask them about the bones,” Tom said quietly, folding up the little piece of parchment with Angelos’ looping script scrawled across it. “You better find us some place to eat.”
“On it,” she declared, rounding on the street and immediately spying a small café with white wrought-iron tables dotted around its paved veranda, each sheltered with a broad blue umbrella. “Okay done,” she said, glancing back at Tom expectantly.
He gave her a dry look as he slipped the parchment into his shirt pocket, and headed for the decrepit little store without another word.
Marina made short work of ordering rather a lot of gelato from the café (the fig and honey was her favourite, closely followed by gianduja which tasted exactly like Nutella), and she left a tall glass of cola fizzing beside to her for Tom who (much to her chagrin) seemed to love the stuff. He emerged from the store a good ten minutes later and Marina watched him approach from where she was lounging in her chair, a spoonful of blissfully cold gelato in her mouth. He collapsed into the seat beside her with a long breath and immediately picked up the cola.
“That shit’ll rot your teeth, you know,” said Marina as he took a long swig of it.
“Angelos was mistaken,” Tom said when he finally set the glass back on the table and squinted at the busy street around them. “Madam Myrmidon’s never even heard of Herpo.”
“Then where’s she getting her authentic basilisk bones from?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Considering those bones were from a diamondback rattlesnake, I doubt she’s even a real Seer at all.”
It was bad news. Finding the supplier of Madam Myrmidon’s infamous basilisk scrying bones had been one of their most promising leads since arriving in Crete. “Damn,” Marina said quietly, staring at her melting gelato. “Where to next?”
Tom sighed softly, leaning back in his chair and taking his cola with him. “Myrmidon mentioned that there’s an old library east of here,” he said, but Marina’s attention was stolen by the way he tugged the collar of his shirt away from his throat, his skin more tanned than she’d ever seen and with a faint glow of sweat – “Apparently the locals don’t go there much,” he continued, glancing at her. She looked down at her dessert quickly, hoping he’d write off her warm cheeks to her sunburn. “It’s full of books on grey magic, taboo spells, creatures of ill repute, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds like your kind of gig,” Marina said wryly.
His gaze immediately shifted back to the same dry deprecation he reserved for her when she made such quips and Marina smirked back, spooning more fig-honey gelato into her mouth. “We should see what they have to offer,” Tom said smoothly, lifting his glass to his lips again. “Once you’re finished.”
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You said find us some place to eat.”
“And I just said I’m not hungry.”
“Have some of mine then,” said Marina, sliding the little cup of gelato towards him and handing him the spoon.
Tom’s eyes lingered on the spoon for a moment, and then flicked to up hers. “I’m not using that, it’s been in your mouth,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
“Do you want me to go get you a fresh one?” Marina asked teasingly.
“Or you could eat what you bought for yourself for once,” he shot back.
Marina snorted and seized her cup of gelato, stabbing her spoon into the scoop of gianduja and prying out a massive lump. “Eat this,” she commanded, handing him the spoon, “I swear to God you’ll like it.”
He gave her another very sceptical look.
“Go on,” she prompted, pushing the spoon closer.
Tom sighed as if very hard done by, set his cola on the table, and took the spoon. At the warm brush of his fingers on hers Marina dropped her hand as if burned, having to smooth out the skirt of her dress to hide the reaction. “If I eat this will you leave me alone?” Tom asked in deadpan.
“No,” she said brightly.
Tom’s expression somehow turned even more deprecating, but he lifted the spoon and Marina hastily averted her gaze to avoid watching him too closely, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms above her head with laced fingers.
“Did you read through the translations of those old reports yet?” Tom asked.
Marina closed her eyes and sighed, letting her arms fall back over the chair. “Yeah, pretty useless, it was just a bunch of guys bragging about all the big scary animals they’d killed in the ring. Did you know they used to run an illegal giant-fighting pit here?”
“No, but that does rather sound like your kind of gig,” Tom smirked.
“Very funny.”
“Any basilisks in those rings?” he asked, leaning forward and picking up Marina’s cup of gelato from the table.
“Nah, just a bunch of chimaera and giant boars.”
“Then the library is our best bet,” he said, taking another spoonful of the gianduja.
“Yeah, off to your creepy evil library with its accursed halls and haunted books,” Marina grinned, “God, Tom, you never take me anywhere nice.”
“If you don’t want to come, you can go back to the hotel,” Tom replied, unperturbed.
“Can I have that back at some point or are you going to eat all of it?” she asked, nodding at the cup with amusement.
“You said I could have some,” he shrugged.
“Give it back, I’m hungry.”
Tom rolled his eyes and slid it back towards her and rested his forearms on the table. “Like that counts as food,” he said, nodding at the gelato.
“Says the guy drinking cola for lunch.”
“But I’m not pretending this is a meal, am I?” he smirked, picking up his glass again.
“Eat my dick, Riddle,” Marina declared simply, digging back into her gelato.
Tom choked on his cola and the door to the café swung open as the store owner emerged, an older woman with a golden tan and long, curly brown hair streaked with grey. “Everything is alright?” she asked them with a broad smile and a thick Greek accent, peering curiously at Tom who was now coughing violently and bent double in his chair.
“Yes,” Marina grinned, ignoring Tom completely, “everything’s fine, thanks.”
“I can bring you something else?” the server offered with visible concern. “Water, perhaps…?”
“No no, we’re all good,” Marina replied loudly over Tom’s chokes, “we’re about to get going, actually.”
The server’s dark eyes flicked nervously between Marina’s blithe smile and Tom’s crumpled form and watering eyes, finally managed to catch his breath.
“He’s fine,” Marina told her reassuringly with a casual wave of her hand Tom’s way. He shot her a dark look which she also ignored.
“Well,” the server said with a kind smile, turning to the table beside them and loading the empty glasses and discarded cups onto her tray, “if you’re sure – it would be a shame to cut your trip short!” she added with a good-natured laugh.
“Oh for sure, for sure,” Marina grinned, standing and nudging Tom’s arm with her knee. “Up and at ‘em Tom, don’t choke to death in an ice cream store – that would be such an embarrassing way to kark it.”
“Your concern is appreciated,” he managed to say very sarcastically, his voice a little raspy as he reached for his cola and downed the rest of it, clearing his throat with determination.
Marina hid a smirk and turned back to the server. “Thanks for the gelato, it’s insane,” she said sincerely, lifting her cup. “Even Tom likes it and he’s normally determined to be difficult and taciturn.”
Tom sighed stiffly and stood, seeming even more sick of her antics than usual. “Thank you,” he told the server politely as he slid his chair back into place.
“You are welcome,” the server said with a broad smile, picking up Tom’s glass and placing it on her tray. “Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon, yes?”
Marina froze with her spoon in her mouth, paralysed by the wave of heat tearing through her chest and staring at the server with wide eyes.
There was a suspended moment of silent stillness in which her brain failed to provide a single thing to say.
“We’re not on a honeymoon,” Tom said awkwardly from beside her.
She did not dare look at him.
“Oh,” said the server with surprise, glancing at her. “I – I’m sorry.”
Marina forced herself to laugh and stabbed her spoon back into her gelato. “No worries,” she said with artificial ease, throwing the server one last smile before turning away and weaving off between the tables. “Alright, let’s go find this evil library, then. I suppose there are worse ways to spend an afternoon…”
As she and Tom fell into step on the footpath, Marina preoccupied herself with meticulously drawing up a spoonful of gelato to save herself from having to acknowledge him, still feeling a little hot. She couldn’t help but notice that there were definitely a few more inches between them than there had been an hour earlier.
“If all you’re going to do is push it around, I’ll eat it,” Tom said a moment later, tone very wry.
Marina glanced up to find his eyes on where she was aimlessly twisting her spoon in what remained of her gelato. She breathed a laugh and handed it to him. “I told you you’d like it.”
“You did,” he agreed softly as he took it, returning his attention to the sights and sounds of the busy wizarding street and placing a generous amount of gelato in his mouth, the warm sun making him squint again.
The seven devils asks got me in my feels again 🥲 Would you ever write a second epilogue set years later that’s like a slice of life kind of fic? Tbh if you just keep adding parts to it til tom and marina are grey and old I’m sure no one would complain lmao. But i understand if you’ve already closed the door to sevdevs!
I'm currently writing (in one of my many WIPs) a little minific from Tom's perspective around the misunderstandings at the Burrow for my old 2k follower event (I know, it's very late lmao), but after that I am kind of feeling this idea! I have a scene idea for a Hogwarts Professor era fic, and I'm open to other ideas if you guys have them 🥰
I always want to write sevdevs stuff when I'm feeling soft and nostalgic lmao
