#moonlight-modoki

@moonlight-modoki ‘s Mafia AU : Mafia Lord Tom Riddle & Part-Timer Extraordinaire Harry!

Please check out their stories! it’s so interesting!

Since it's my favourite movie, I have to ask- could you share your ideas about the Inception AU?

omg i’m so happy to hear that! inception is one of my favourite movies too, and i’d love to talk worldbuilding anytime with you! 

the idea behind this fic is that harry and tom broke up over “creative differences” regarding the use of dreams. unfortunately, the dreamsharing community is small enough that they end up having to work the same job.

one day, harry shows up early to the warehouse and finds tom hooked up to the PASIV. he goes under, past the first level of tom’s subconscious, and there he meets a shade of himself. 

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"I disposed of the intruder," the other Harry purrs, practically catting into his touch.

Harry recoils. He hisses, "You taught your shade to shoot first and ask questions later? Tom!"

Tom looks caught out, guiltily trying to disengage from the shade’s embrace without much success. 

Harry puts a bullet through his skull just to get away from it all. 

He’s tearing the wires from the crook of his elbow before he’s even fully wiped the sleep from his eyes. His hands are shaking. He doesn’t know what to think. 

But having a shade puttering around the basement of your mind is a very bad thing indeed. Harry doesn’t know what it means, that Tom’s shade is a fascimile of him, that it’s this version of him—

The plain and awful truth is, Harry never thought that he mattered very much to Tom. After the break-up they had agreed, apropos of nothing, to leave each other alone, and Harry had retreated to his corner of dreamshare. It was better that way, and for all he knows, it has nothing to do with him at all. 

So why does the thought fill with him such dread? 

Tom has done nothing but antagonise him from day one, has been shy of cruel to him, and Harry should leave now and put the entire thing out of his mind. It can’t mean anything good, but if this compromises the job—

Beside him, Tom wakes with a shudder, his eyes wild. 

Harry winds the wires haphazardly around his fist and chucks the lot into the case. 

“You need to sort it out,” he says harshly, not looking at him, his eyes hot. He feels dizzy and sick, but as he turns to go Tom rises quick as a whip and grabs his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" Tom says, squeezing dangerously, but his face—

He looks the same as he did the day of the break-up, when he'd said "Stay," like the words were constricting his throat, like the dream was still collapsing around them, and Harry had—Harry had pressed his lips together and turned from him, had left him in the room with the comatose body of his mentor.