#should have seen this coming after tom riddle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudiewrites · 4 months

Note

OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

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The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin imagine #tom riddle smut #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle smut

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mattyriddlesbitch · 2 months

Note

hey! Love your writing! Could you do a fic where Tom finds reader beaten and bruised and he raises hell trying to figure out who did it? Also can the reader be a hufflepuff? Have an amazing day!!!!

I didn't specify the house, but I hope this works!

Protector

Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of attack, broken bones, blood

You were in one of the bathrooms at the sink, trying to wash away all the blood on your skin and clean the cuts. It was a typically abandoned bathroom, no one really used it. So you were surprised when the door opened and none other than Tom Riddle came in.

You and Tom had a weird relationship, but he was weird in general. You were nice and friendly with him, and he gave you short responses in return. He didn't exactly seem to hate you, he wasn't rude and he didn't insult you. He just didn't really seem to care about you.

But now that he saw you all bloodied and bruised, you saw anger in his eyes. He was livid. “Who did it?” Was all he asked.

“It's fine, Tom. Don't worry about it.” You said, turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up.

“You're hurt, (Y/N). It's not fine. Who did it?” Tom walked over to you.

“No one.” You just wanted him to drop it. It'd only get worse if he got involved.

“They hurt you, why are you protecting them?” His tone was harsher than normal.

“I don't want you involved.” You said, still not meeting his eyes.

“So instead, you protect the people who hurt you. You're being stupid.” It was the first time he actually insulted you in some way.

“Leave it alone, Tom.” You said before turning off the sink and leaving the bathroom.

The next day, you didn't see any of your attackers in classes. There were a few people close to your attackers that were injured, a broken arm, broken nose, cuts, bruises. They wouldn't say a word about what happened.

You wanted to question Tom since he was the only one you knew of that knew what happened to you. But he was missing from classes too. No one had seen him and none of the injured students would talk to you.

You waited outside of the Slytherin common room, hoping to catch him coming in or out. It took a long time actually. He didn’t show up until just minutes before everyone was supposed to be in their common rooms. He came down the hallway, looking right past you.

“Where have you been?” You asked, trying to get his attention.

“Urgent matter to attend to.” He said as he was walking closer.

“You mean those students who attacked me?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“They’re dealt with.” He said as he stopped in front of you.

“I told you to leave it alone!”

“So you can keep getting hurt?”

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“Why do you care? You never care.”

“It’s not about you. I think it’s pathetic to attack someone like that. So I gave those cowards a lesson.” He crossed his arms as well.

“You’ve never done that for anyone before.” You shook your head. “Why? Why me?”

“I don’t know.” He said harshly. “I don’t get it. I saw you hurt and…I couldn’t bear it. I got angry and wanted nothing more than to hurt those people who dared to touch you.”

You were shocked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I don’t understand why I did it. I just wanted to.” His voice was softer now. “I felt…like I had to protect you.”

“Tom…” You spoke softly.

“I thought I hated you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’re annoying and talkative and bubbly and I should hate that. I should hate that I can’t stop thinking of you and how you make me feel. Your voice, your laugh, your perfume, your smile. I want to hate it all. But I don’t. I can’t.” He said, staring in your eyes.

“What are you saying, Tom?” You asked after a moment to let his words sink in.

“I’m saying that I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite.” He said, his eyes trailing down.

“You like me?” You asked, a small smile growing on your face.

“I’m not saying that.” He scoffed, looking back up at you.

“But that’s what you mean.” You tease.

“I’ll never say those words.” He shook his head.

“It’s alright. I know what you were trying to say.” You said before turning to walk down the hallway back to your dorm.

“I didn’t-” He yelled after you before groaning, heading into the Slytherin common room, knowing there’s no point in arguing with you.

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#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst

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cardansriddle · 1 year

Text

Obsession (part 2) - (tom riddle x fem!reader)

part 1

Warnings: injury & blood.

A/N: Finally I got this done. Hopefully it's to your liking and was worth the very very long wait. Let me know what you think!

༻♛༺

Tom Riddle was in a predicament.

In his defence, he had not expected things to turn out the way they did.

It started after that fated day in the library, when he had seen the kind of book she was interested in. She was out after curfew, when the clock was striking towards midnight, and he had been coming back from the meeting with his Knights of Walpurgis. He had not planned to trail behind her.

It was fate, he kept telling himself.

Clad in a silky nightgown that barely left anything to the imagination, the girl moved with an alluring grace, her slender figure slipping through the shadows as if guided by some invisible force. Tom, captivated by her presence, found himself lost in a daze, his purpose momentarily forgotten.

He kept to the dark corners of the hallway as he followed the girl he had become infatuated with, taking extra measure to disguise the echo of his footsteps.

When they reached the library, she looked around the corridor to make sure she was undetected before entering the place swiftly. Tom's curiosity peaked and he slipped inside, mirroring her movements with fluid precision.

A sly smirk danced on his lips when he realised she had broken into the restricted section of the library.

She stopped in front of a bookshelf and he watched, enthralled, as her fingers grazed the spines of the numerous tomes lined up on the shelves before they halted and pulled out a scarlet-bound book.

Using her momentary distraction, Tom sneaked behind her until he stood a mere centimetres away from her, so close that if she shifted even a little bit, his chest would brush against her back.

"Isn't it a little late for rendezvous in the library?"

She jumped, startled, and before she could let out a scream of surprise, his hand covered her mouth. He pressed himself against her back, effectively silencing her, but she kept squirming in his grip.

"If I let go, you will not scream." His voice held an unwavering authority as he warned her. Her head bobbed in reluctant agreement, and Tom cautiously withdrew his hand, yet he remained close, his presence an inescapable force. The witch pivoted to face him, steadying herself against the edge of the bookshelf as Tom loomed above her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Tom's gaze dipped, his hand idly toying with the delicate fabric of her nightgown.

When she huffed impatiently, he rose a brow. "Should I not be the one asking you that?"

She stared at him for a moment before releasing a defeated sigh. "Fine. I was looking for a particular book and I knew the professors would not give me a pass if they knew what it was about."

His gaze dropped to the said book she was clutching in one of her hands, and despite the darkness surrounding them, he almost instantly recognized it.

"Why are you interested in necromancy?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

He hummed, displeased with her lack of communication. He knew she was not ordinary, and he was aware she possessed a certain interest in the Dark Arts.

"I have a proposition for you." He revealed after a brief moment of silence. "I have a...group of individuals who share an understanding and desire that can only be quenched with the Dark Arts. We have certain beliefs that we will enforce once we have enough power to do so. I wish for you to join us."

"Why me?"

"You would be a valuable asset."

She arched an elegant brow, bemused. "Asset?"

"Yes."

"I'm not an asset to be possessed, Tom. If you want me, you have to prove it."

There was something sultry in her tone that sent shivers down Tom's spine, and he felt unnerved by the unfamiliar feeling that crept into his veins. There was something about her, Tom had not yet figured it out, but whatever it was, it had pulled him towards her and he was set on finding out just why he had gotten so obsessed with the witch.

Despite the protests of the rational side of his head, he gave into his urges and pressed his body into hers, caging her against the bookshelf. She was startled by the proximity, he could tell by the way her eyes widened just slightly, and he threw all caution to the wind before lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers.

She wasted no time before trailing her hands into his hair, grasping his dark curls to ground herself before she could get lost in the feel of his mouth hungrily bruising her own. His lips felt contradicting— like sandpaper and silk, and she was sure that one taste of him would not suffice.

His hands grasped onto her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him as he bit down on her lower lip, drawing a gasp from her that had his body rising in temperature. If they did not stop, Tom was sure his self-control would slip through his grasp and he would end up taking her right there—against the bookshelf in the library.

With a pained groan, he drew back, giving her time to catch her breath as he did the same.

She slowly looked up at him from under her lashes with hazy eyes, and Tom had to close his eyes at the sight. He had to stop before he could lose all his composure.

When he looked at her again, the dishevelled hair and the reddened lips, it was as if reality had slapped him across the face. With a deep inhale—which might have been a bad idea, as it was only her scent that he inhaled, sweet and addictive— he turned on his heel and left her standing there, leaving only confusion in his wake.

She braced herself against the bookshelf. "What the fuck?" She wondered, and the only reply she got was the eerie silence of the Restricted Section.

༻♛༺

Tom was avoiding her.

She would have laughed at the situation. The notion that a mature and all-powerful wizard would find himself evading her presence, all because of a single kiss, held a touch of irony that was not lost on her. But alas, she had been just as affected by the kiss and had found herself instinctively steering clear of the places he frequented, caught in a delicate dance of longing and self-preservation.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that had set him off. Was it her audacious nature, her unyielding boldness that had unsettled him? Or perhaps it had been his own disbelief, grappling with the unexpected surge of desire that had coursed through his veins.

Yet despite their carefully constructed waltz of avoidance, like all dances, it had to come to an end at some point or another.

It was a rainy afternoon when they saw each other next. The Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom had been cleared to form a clear ground for what was assumed to be duels.

The witch released a displeased groan as soon as she set foot into the room, knowing quite well she was not in the right headspace to perform in a fight.

"Thought you loved a good old duel?" A familiar voice mused from behind her, and she turned to see Abraxas watching her with a raised brow.

"Not today. I am sleep deprived and I am hungry." She replied gloomily, glancing back at the board hung in the front of the room and trying to allocate her name.

"Ah yes. Your presence was certainly missed during breakfast today."

"I'm sure." She drawled. He was about to retort back with a sarcastic comment of his own when the witch in front of him stiffened before rubbing at her temples tiredly. "Great. I've been paired with Alphard Black."

The blonde patted her on the back sympathetically. "That is going to be a tough one." He snickered before adding— "Especially considering you are barely able to stand on two feet without swaying like a toddler who has just learned to walk."

The witch only shot him a deathly glare in reply.

"Settle down everyone!" The professor finally entered the room, clapping her hands to bring attention to herself. "You have probably already guessed what we are doing today." She rubbed her palms against each other excitedly, ignoring the weak protests voiced by some students claiming it to be too early for such exercise. "Shall we begin then? Who would like to go first?"

As she was just to suppress a yawn, Alphard Black stepped onto the podium, hands tucked lazily in his trousers, announcing that he would like to go first and finish the whole ordeal.

The professor smiled enthusiastically. "And who has been partnered with Alphard...?" She glanced at the board, eyes tracing over the thing until she found what she was looking for. She called the witch's name. "Come on up, dear."

"Break a leg," Abraxas said encouragingly, and the girl shot him a half-smile half-grimace before joining Alphard in the middle of the classroom.

Alphard nodded to her in acknowledgement while assuming his position with his wand raised at the ready. Bowing down slightly, as was customary at the start of every duel, they both waited for the professor to announce the beginning of the match.

The professor raised her hand, and with a firm voice, declared, "You may begin!"

Energy crackled in the air as the duo sprang into action. Alphard began with elegant yet measured wand movements, casting spells that tested her defences, and the witch in turn, countered with a protective shield to ward off his attacks. Seeing an opening to retaliate, she thrust her wand forward, causing a stream of sparks to shoot toward Alphard. He deflected them with a deft flick of his wrist.

The back and forth went on for a few more minutes, and she could sense Alphard's impatience at the lack of intensity of the fight. His eyes hardened, and he began shooting spell after spell, barely giving the witch any opportunity to retailate.

With each passing moment, her exhaustion became more evident as she struggled to maintain her concentration. Her wand movements became sluggish, and her spells lacked their usual precision. Alphard deftly deflected her weakened magical strikes, and in a split moment he managed to slip past her guard.

"Diffindo!"

Pain shot through her body at the impact as she staggered backwards from the impact, clutching her injured arm that was now gushing with blood.

Alphard's eye widened in alarm. "Sorry about that." He apologised sheepishly while the professor rushed to her side to examine the deep gash on her arm.

"You ought to go to the Hospital Wing to get this fixed."

"It is fine, it's not that—"

But her protest died in her throat when a familiar voice sounded from her side. "I will take her." And before she could process it, slender fingers wrapped around her elbow and began pulling her towards the door. She distinctly heard the Professor express her gratitude for Tom, but it was all tuned out by the close proximity of him invading her senses.

"What are you doing?" She asked when they were out the door, trying vainly to free herself from his grip. She only managed to stumble in the process, and Tom, with an exasperated sigh, grabbed a hold of her waist with his other arm so that she could walk straight.

"Escorting you to the Hospital Wing." He deadpanned, and had she not been dizzy from the blood loss, perhaps she would have protested.

"I can escort myself, thanks."

"Really? You could barely dodge a third-year spell back there. I do not think it is wise to trust you to find your way around the castle in this state."

She huffed. "I was...distracted." Then, with a surprising burst of energy, she ripped herself away from his hold. "And I do not wish to go to the Hospital Wing."

Tom's onyx eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"She will make me stay overnight for no reason. This is just a scratch. Not a big deal."

She could sense his indignation from where she stood, and for a brief moment she thought he would forcefully drag her down to get her arm fixed just to get their interaction over with, so it came as a surprise when he gave in. "Fine. I will fix it." He declared with a tired sigh.

"What? No. I don't wa—"

"It is either that or the Hospital Wing."

She glared at him. "You are a prick."

His hand found purchase around her elbow again, and he all but dragged her towards the nearest empty classroom, shoving her in. The door closed behind them with an echoing thud, sealing them in a space heavy with tension.

"Sit." He demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She reluctantly obeyed, propping herself on a table and dangling her legs, apprehensive eyes fixed on him as he began moving towards her. When he approached, a charged silence hung in the air and she held in her gasp as he placed a hand on her lower thigh, halting her movements. Slowly, almost as if unsure, he pushed her legs open so he could stand in between them.

Time seemed to stretch, elongating the moment, as they remained locked in a silent exchange, their unspoken desires suspended in the space between them. With a firm grasp, he took hold of her injured arm and held his wand in his unoccupied hand.

She watched with bated breath as he muttered under his breath, tracing his wand over her wound in patterns as the slash began closing, her skin knitting itself back together. He only stopped when the skin looked unblemished once again, pocketing his wand in the pocket of his robes, but not letting go of her arm just yet.

The closeness between them was intoxicating, their breaths mingling, their heartbeats echoing in a symphony of desire. He shifted, and the act caused his nose to brush against hers.

"Tom..." She whispered, unsure, hesitant, but wanting.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers. She kissed him back almost immediately, and he raised his hand to cradle her jaw, deepening the kiss.

"Tom," The witch managed to breathe out in between the kisses, "Are you going to run away again?" She managed to get out just as he dived to bite on the tender flesh of her neck. A gasp left her mouth at the stinging yet pleasurable feel of his teeth on her skin.

"No." He replied, and when he rose his head to look at her, his pupils were blown wide, and he looked absolutely feral. Wild and untamed. "No, I am never letting you out of my hold ever again." He stated before reclaiming her lips once again with a primal sense of ownership that sent a jolt of desire coursing through her entire being. "Mine," he whispered against her lips and his words resonated with unwavering conviction, an unyielding declaration of possession.

She did not protest.

༻♛༺

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#tom riddle #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst

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cherry-muses · 3 months

Text

tom riddle x gn! reader: oneshot

tags: mentions of a difficult childhood, orphanage, bullying, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was sat across you, writing his History of Magic essay with his ever-so-neat handwriting. The only sounds you could hear were those of his quill scratching the parchment and of you turning the pages of your Potions textbook.

As Riddle wrote, his other free hand rested on the table, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he had really pretty hands. Your eyes subtly scanned them and eventually landed on the sleeve of his robes… which seemed to be a little torn and frayed at the edges.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the exact spell required to make the sleeve good as new… secretly hoping that Riddle would give you one of his rare smiles when you did. Perhaps it’d make the boring study session slightly more entertaining, and the rather bleak winter evening more colourful.

You tentatively reached your hand to gently hold his wrist, and gave him a soft smile. “I could fix that… may I?” You asked, gesturing to the torn sleeve.

To your surprise, Tom did not give you even the smallest smile. In fact, he flinched and harshly pulled his hand away, giving you an accusatory glare at the same time. “I’d much appreciate if you wouldn’t disturb me when I’m trying to work. And I know perfectly well to take care of my own clothing, thank you.”, he snapped. “I think I’d much rather spend my evening with someone who isn’t so dull and irritating to the core.”

“I didn’t mean-”, but you were rudely cut off mid-sentence by Riddle slamming his textbook shut, stuffing it into his satchel and storming off, out of the library.

You were left sitting alone in the library, feeling an odd mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion, holding back tears.

It was the next evening, when you were approached by the dark-haired prefect again. You had been reading by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room when he came up to you, fists clenched at his sides in nervousness. “What do you want, Riddle?”, you spoke, rather harshly, as you sat up straight to face him.

“I am… sorry.”, he replied, voice strained as if it was taking him a great deal of effort to get the words out.

You slammed your book shut, tossing it aside on the couch in annoyance. “I am sorry too.”, you replied, not a hint of emotion in your voice.

“You’re sorry?”, he asked, frowning in confusion.

“For assuming we're friends.”

For a split second a look of hurt flashed across his sharp features, until, ever the Slytherin, Riddle schooled his expression to appear vaguely sad.

“I should not have spoken in that way to you.”, he begins.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”, you retort.

You are both silent for a few moments, and the air has a sort of charged tension which makes you feel like either one of you would be storming off at any moment.

It comes as a bit of a surprise, then, when he instead chooses to sit close to you on the black couch, the water from the Great Lake casting a greenish glow upon the two of you.

“I really am sorry. I must admit, out of sheer habit I had assumed the worst intentions out of you.”

Those deep brown irises of his conveyed a kind of sincerity you had never before seen in him. You hoped to Merlin it was genuine.

“It is no excuse but I’d like to…er, explain why I behaved in such a way. Not justify, just explain.”, he said, a request for you to kindly hear him out implicit in his words. You somehow found yourself nodding, silently urging him to continue.

“You know where I grew up. I much prefer to hide it, but somehow your… constant affection has gently coerced me into entrusting to you the things I wish I could hide even from myself. ” He pauses, sighing and staring outside the dungeon windows, into the depths of the Great Lake.

“As would be expected, the orphanage wasn’t made of money. They could hardly feed us twice a day.” He was practically avoiding your eyes now. “My wardrobe essentially consisted of the worn clothes people donated. And, well.” A pause. “My first time on the Hogwarts express, a group of Ravenclaws found it a good enough excuse to remind me of my inferiority… and throw a couple of assorted hexes my way.”

Realization dawned on you, and at once you took his hand in yours, gently caressing his skin with your thumb. “Oh…”

“Well, since then I’ve managed to handle such issues with reparation spells, but I suppose I missed my robe’s sleeve. Which caught your attention yesterday. And… and when you tried to fix it, I just...”

You could bear it no more, and without any warning he was engulfed in a hug. “Tom, I’m so so sorry. I should’ve known.”

“No, it is my fault, for comparing you to someone who was been cruel to me, when you’ve always shown me nothing but the complete opposite.”, he breathed out softly.

There was a look of steely determination on your face now. “Promise me one thing, Riddle.”

“Hmm?”, he inquired, far too occupied with staring into your eyes to bother with actual words.

“Next time you feel like that, please… please just talk to me.”, you request. “I hate when we hurt each other in such a way.”

“Anything you ask.”, he says. You beam at him and gently kiss his forehead

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on that couch, whispering sweet nothings to one another and watching the fish swim by in the lake.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #harry potter fandom #wizarding world

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childotkw · 6 months

Note

In dark side of the moon, can we hear a little more about Riddle's take on things? Particularly regarding Harry?

Tom was, admittedly, a little embarrassed that it took him so long to really notice Evans.

Dumbledore’s son - and wasn’t that a disturbing notion, that someone somewhere had looked at the man who regularly wore outrageously coloured robes decorated with bumblebees and snitches and fluffy clouds and thought him desirable enough to sleep with - had initially flown beneath Tom’s radar. Oh, his arrival at Hogwarts had sparked much conversation, but his actual presence?

Tom hadn’t given the young man much thought. He had had him categorised and labelled in a neat little box from the very first mention of his existence.

Any son of Dumbledore was surely a steadfast believer in his father’s doctrine after all, and therefore not worth Tom’s time.

That impression has lasted only a few weeks.

Word had spread about Evans’ mentorship of the Shame of Slytherin, Nathan Ciro, but Tom had never seen the two together. It had been a point of discussion amongst the school and their House in particular - Dumbledore’s offspring taking a Slytherin under his wing, yet another sign he had dismissed - but for all that people were baffled by the choice, no one seemed to know much of anything about the relationship. How or even why it had come to be.

It seemed like fate that Tom was the one to stumble across the pair. Without even trying he had accomplished what so many others had not.

As it should be.

He had only seen Evans from a distant before, and the man had never struck him as someone particularly intimidating or imposing. He was short, slender, dressed plainly, and the frankly hideous glasses he wore were the only thing Tom could make out of his face - another point, everything about the man was so carefully constructed to be forgettable, Tom really was a fool - but his voice was distinct.

Tom slowed momentarily when he heard the muffled sound of a conversation, then crept closer. It was late in the afternoon, still an hour before dinner would be served, but the dungeons were normally quite empty at this point. Classes had let out ages ago, and most Slytherins enjoyed basking in the sun before they had to return to the cold hallways that bracketed their common room.

He peeked around the corner, and immediately felt his interest pique.

Evans was squatting before a curled up Ciro, staring at the younger wizard with a painfully kind expression.

“- it didn’t work.” Ciro was mumbling, hiding his face in his knees.

“It was your first try, you can’t have expected to get it right straight away.” Evans’ voice was low and patient, not dissimilar to how he spoke in classes, but with a heavy kind of intensity in it that caught Tom off-guard. “Most wizards and witches never master it.”

And that intrigued Tom more. Just what was Evans teaching Ciro?

The other boy said something else, inaudible from how his mouth pressed into his knobbly knee. Evans huffed a laugh, poking Ciro with his wand. “What’s the rule, kid?”

Ciro shifted, unfurling a little. “Head up,” he grumbled, clearly reciting this so called ‘rule’. “I said, you mastered it, and you were younger than me when you did it.”

“I was,” Evans agreed easily, his smile sliding into place with an ease Tom was briefly envious of, “but I also had a hell of a motivator to get it done.”

“What, were you being harassed by dementors?” Ciro asked, his tone far more snide than Tom was used to. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had heard that level of life in Ciro’s voice. Certainly not in the last year had he shown that much fire.

But that knowledge felt secondary to the implication behind his words.

Dementors. A difficult spell. Surely they weren’t talking about the patronus? And Evans had supposedly mastered it before he was fourteen?

“Well, maybe not ‘harassed’, but I had a few run ins,” Evans said blandly, as if most wizards would survive one encounter with such a creature. Ciro goggled at his mentor, mirroring Tom’s own incredulousness. “The point is, I learned the patronus under a lot of pressure. I needed it to protect myself, so I pushed myself. You don’t have that driving you - and you should be bloody glad for it,” Evans added when he saw whatever expression crossed Ciro’s face.

“Then why are you trying to teach it to me?” Ciro’s voice was small. “If not everyone can master it…why bother at all?”

Evans sighed, his face creasing fondly as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Because I know you can do it,” he said simply, as if the very idea that Ciro would not be able to produce a fucking patronus had never crossed his mind. “Kid, Nathan, you managed to produce mist on your first try. That alone is incredible. It took me weeks to get that far, and I had a far better teacher showing me the ropes. You’ll get there, but you have to be patient with yourself. I’ll be right behind you every step of the way, okay?”

Tom stood there, feeling oddly breathless as he watched the scene play out. He couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, his ears flooded by the rush of blood.

He felt, strangely, as if something fundamental had just shifted inside him, and that was -

Exhilarating.

#scienceontheweekdays #HP #dark side of the moon au #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry

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luqinss · 5 months

Text

Tom Riddle smut

y/n reader. reader is in slytherin.

After an eventful night sneaking around the restricted section you were heading back to you common room soundlessly wandering the corridors of Hogwarts it was sure to be around 1 AM now, Prefect duties were over a while ago so you were sure you were not going to be caught while turning the corner you see a figure walking towards you “fuck.” you whisper while swiftly turning in a hurry around the corner gripping your wand against your chest, feeling the cold cobblestone pressed up against your back

“you can come out y/l/n i know you're there” a voice you could recognise anywhere, a voice that made you dread the interaction about to happen the voice seemingly belonged to the one and only Tom Riddle, the same Tom Riddle that loved to torment you for his own enjoyment.

As he turned the corner his piercing brown eyes caught your’s “Just my luck.” you groan, the thought of him catching you and deducting house points it was unlikely due to the fact you were both slytherin’s but yet it was best to expect the unexpected when it came to Tom, he could always give you a detention though after all he seemed to enjoy your suffering.

“Why are you out past curfew ?” he remarked, interrupting your thoughts with an amused look on his face “just enjoying a late night walk.” you replied uninterested in telling him your actual reasoning for being out so late, he hummed in response and began speaking “For some reason i don't believe you y/l/n ” He said with a hint of sarcasm “That's very unfortunate but if you dont mind im on my way to bed now so please do excuse me.” you stated whilst trying to push past him but his response was to cage you in his hands on either side of your head, you suddenly became aware of how close in proximity you were

“I'll ask you again, what are you doing out so late ?” he spoke tauntingly “i was in the library” you replied his chocolate brown eyes staring into yours making you feel slightly nervous at the position you were in, he must have sensed your tenseness underneath him as he began smirking at you “In the library at this time, doing what ?” He teased “reading, like people normally do in a library.” you quipped back at him, wishing you had decided to stay in bed and read instead of having a night of rebellion “now can i please go back to bed, since you are so bothered i'm up at this time.” you muttered feeling the lack of sleep catching up to you.

“I don't see why I should let you go if you're not going to tell me the truth. I am a prefect afterall i could easily deduct points from you or give you a detention.” He started almost sounding drunk on the thought of what he could use his power for, “Perfect duties were over an hour ago, I think the real question is what are you still doing out of bed Riddle ?sneaking around in the dark not wanting to be seen, what are you really up to ?” sick of him walking to you as if you were a young child he could scare, he seemed surprised that you had said this “what are you implying y/l/n ?” he questioned, raising his eyebrow “I'm implying that you like to sneak around to do god knows what at night.” a thick tension building between you.

“Well y/n I dont see how it’s any of your business what i do in my spare time.”

“But it's your business what I do in mine ?” you laughed amused by his hypocrisy, growing more frustrated by the second

“Yes.” he stated bluntly

“How come ?”

“Because it is.”

“That's not a real answer.”

“Yes it is y/n.”

“No it's no- you were quickly shut up as he pressed you closer up against the wall, his lips were on yours the kiss came as a surprise but not an unwelcome one, you kissed back and shortly realised what you were doing and pulled away your skin hot to the touch, the kiss was electric and passionate you had been kissed before but it was never like this. You had wanted it more than you had realised, you scanned his face and pulled him back in by the collar your hands quickly making their way up to his hair tugging on his locks he hummed against your mouth letting his enjoyment be known, you felt him deepen the kiss asking for entrance into you mouth, you obliged and let him enter your tongues dancing together fighting for dominance as he eventually won his wands roamed you body freely, one hand on the back of your neck and the other in your hair he pulled away and began his attack on your neck, he was enticing and alluring you wanted more.

“Tom.” you whispered breathlessly he hummed in response making your body vibrate in return “What was that for ?” “To shut you up.” your pulse was beating rapidly, your cheeks flushed a rosy colour, “Well it worked.” you thought out loud “indeed it did.” he began to take your robes and tie off and started unbuttoning your shirt “is this okay ?” he asked, staring deeply into your eyes ``yes.” you moaned desperate for more, as he finishes unbuttoning your shirt he slowly takes off you looking you in the eyes smirking at the desperate look on your face as he takes it off and lets it drop to the floor he makes his way down to your breasts leaving kisses along your neck until he reaches his destination.

He palms you breasts through your bra until he begins to unclip it and lets it fall to the floor joining your disregarded shirt the places your erect nipple in his moth and begging sucking on it swirling his tongue while massaging your other breast leaving you to whine and whimper at this, he slowly swaps doing the same to your other breast he makes his way up your neck and to you lips he begins kissing you again his hands still massaging your tit’s, you can feel your core getting wetter from each action “Tom please.” you beg, he doesn't reply only smirks at you while making his way down to your skirt he lifts it up and begins tracing your clit with his thumb he groans at your evergrowing wetness, he moves your underwear to the slide and slides his digits into you using your arousal to pump in and out of you at this point you're a mess moaning and squirming against him your hips brush his and he groans he places his other hand on your waist and pushes you against the wall keeping you still you moan at the sudden contact bringing his lips up to your ear he whispers “Be quiet you don't want to get caught now do you ? " he hurried his pace, moving his fingers in and out of you rapidly until it became too intense as waves of excitement coursed through your body as you came.

After coming down from your high you begin reaching for his pants and begin to take his belt off palming him in the process his breathing grow quicker and more intense you pulled his pants down and reveal his budge your breath caught in your throat pulling his underwear as his lengthy cock sprung out of his boxers down you begin to drool at the size of him, you begin stroking his member pre cum coating the tip “fuck.” he drawls out you slide your hand up and down faster, your arousal now dripping down your thighs he begings sucking and nipping at your neck as you pump his manhood his tip now coated with his cum you drop to your knees taking his length into your mouth he begins thrusting into your mouth you can feel he is getting close as he runs his fingers through your hair pulling on your roots as he does you mon at the sensation causing his to thrust harder his body jolts and he cums in your moth he moans at the sight of you cum poled around your mouth as you swallow and lick your lips he lifts you up against the wall and enters you fitting together like two puzzle pieces, you let out a load moan and he kisses you.

You let him dominate your mouth this time not bothering to fight as he thrusts into you one hand on your arse and the other pulling on your hair your hands around his neck playing with the back of his hair, his thrust become sloppy and he then speeds up you can feel your stomach fluttering and feel yourself getting closer to finishing, he can feel it too he thrust harshly into you over and over again as you finally reach your high and cum at the same time his lips still on yours as you moan into his mouth he pulls out and places you back on the floor his hand on your waste keeping you steady his forehead against yours, your heavy breathing synchronising together, he was intoxicating like a drug.

He was tender with you, he was still in amazement of what had just happened between you two, the warmth of your body was comforting a feeling he never wanted to be without, being by your side felt so natural he was happier than he had ever been before.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #voldemort #harry potter #tom riddle x y/n #slytherin

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crowscadence · 6 months

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BSD as things I’ve heard in band

Tachihara: Who wants to do some carpool kareoke?!

Akutagawa: I’d rather you skin and boil me alive

Yosano: They were like “should we medicate her?” and I said no because I didn’t want to lose my sparkle

Ranpo: I don’t have to worry about that because my sparkle is autism

Kunikida: *sigh* I’ve been afflicted by Dazai’s bullshit

Dazai: hey scoot over a bit

Chuuya: no you’re not my master

Dazai: actually I am, be my dog

Dazai, holding just the head of a dog-shaped cookie jar: Isn’t he cute?

Atsushi: Dazai why do you have a dog head

Dazai: The rest of the body is in my bag :)))

Atsushi: That doesn’t make it any better-

Dazai: Hey, did you hear who just got asked out?

Chuuya: Who?

Dazai: You *finger guns*

Atsushi, running from Akutagawa: Help, I’m being attacked by a wild emo!

*15 Dazai and Chuuya arguing over the plural of penis*

Mori: you two are making me question my life choices

Nikolai: What if edible p*rn was a thing?

Sigma: please never say those words in that order ever again

Dazai, after a mission: You know Atsushi you’re really not beating those furry allegations

Atsushi: yeah I saw that one coming

Kenji: Going to Paris without seeing Versailles is like going to New York for the first time and not seeing the Tilted Towers

Kyouka: …Kenji that's from fortnite

Yosano: well you may be the best walking condom ad I’ve ever seen

(This quote would fit so many)

Ango: nothing like a government website to keep you up at 2AM

(this was from my band director)

Kunikida, talking about Dazai: The fact that he’s not responding to my texts right now is bull because there’s no way that sleep-deprived, caffeine-addicted twink isn’t awake

Dazai: this is the face of a professional

Atsushi: that’s the face of a fucking idiot

Kunikida, talking about his headcanonned college experience: do you know what kind of foul things come out of frat guys’ mouths?

Dazai: no but I know what foul things probably go in them

Akutagawa: I must be a poison type because I can’t stop fucking koffing

Dazai, mocking fyodor: what’s the point of saying meow if it’s not in a Russian accent?

Dazai: I dunno about you but Tom Riddle could grease my cork

Dazai: never thought I’d see the day when I’d be handcuffed in the band room but okay

Ranpo, putting on sunglasses inside: gotta rep that autism

*Dazai bitching and moaning about sore muscles*

Atsushi: be glad for the pain, it means you’re alive

Dazai: bitch you know I’m suicidal

Dazai, holding up a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt: oh my god guys this is the shirt I wore to emergency therapy after trying to off myself

Albatross: do y’all think I could pull off a black turtleneck or would I just look like that kid from The Incredibles

Not a quote but Akutagawa gives off the same vibes as the kid who tried to fight me in the audience at Carnegie Hall

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sebastianswallows · 2 months

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The English Client — Four

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, but almost main character death lol

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

Tom stayed away for a few days. He stalked around some other rare book stores but found none of what Caractacus Burke was searching for. Still, it gave ample enough time for her to forget about him. He needed to be out of her mind before he carried out his plan.

He sat at a café outside her store one evening, waiting to see her go home again. Not able to stand another cup of coffee, hot and bitter, he decided to try something he’d seen so many other locals eating. It was called ‘gelato’. A frozen treat, it looked like clotted cream and was eaten with a little spoon. Tom regretted ordering it the moment it arrived, but with each bite, he became a little fonder of it. It was cold and vaguely sweet with a drizzling of cherry jam on top. He reached the bottom of the cup before he even realised, and licked the spoon clean afterwards.

She stepped out later this time, at around six o’clock. Tom got up not long after but he didn’t follow her. His gaze trailed after her from behind a pair of aviator shades — her white shirt fluttering with each step, hair soft upon her shoulders — and let himself enjoy the view until she disappeared beyond the curve of a building that bent like a wave. Then he turned the other way, the way she came from.

The lamp lights were just coming on, bathing the marble a sulphuric yellow. He took his sunglasses off and tucked them in his shirt as he slid through the narrow street the shop was on. There was nobody around, but he could hear the echoes of other people through the walls of the nearby buildings. The area was a mix of domestic and commercial, small old flats and little shops which made it quite unpredictable. It was a very intimate setting, and dangerous for that very reason — few escape routes should anyone appear.

He peered through the glass first at the organised chaos inside, the clutter and piles of precious old things that lifetimes would not suffice to explore. Between them, Tom saw his reflection staring back. He aimed his wand at each lock and muttered an Alohomora. The spell let him in like butter.

The shop was just faintly lit from beyond the large display windows, rendering every book and smooth wood surface into a little sunburst. The air was light with dust, and dry, and cold in the way libraries often were. The pillars that held the ceiling high were cinder-black, and carved so finely that the wood seemed lace and pillow soft. A sweet scent lingered in the cavernous construction. It really was a marvellous atmosphere… Tom wouldn’t have minded staying if circumstances were different. His grandfather’s ring trilled around his finger.

Regardless of how old the building was, the interior was certainly built to order. It had a hint of the Victorian with a Renaissance flair. Tom had been in enough rich people’s houses to tell. It amused him how much they were all alike in taste, as if they were part of the same secret breed.

He stepped further in. The floorboards creaked and, looking down, a small amount of dust flew up. Curious. Perhaps it really didn’t get that many customers so often. The other shops he had visited this week all seemed to have at least another two clients while he was there… Strange, as this shop was bursting with books, and in an accessible location too. Tom could only guess that either they were prohibitively selective with their clientele, or the place had a bad reputation.

He found her ledgers tucked underneath the desk. They were split into three themes: Letteratura, Religione, and Esoterismo. He opened the latter.

It was detailed, thick, and finely indexed with the most minuscule writing. Instead of listing their catalogue, it listed all the authors they seemed to have an interest in, whether or not they held any of their books. Prices were next to certain volumes, along with purchasing dates. Others were annotated with the shop or collector that held them. From Agrippa to Cheiro to Crowley, from Novalis to Paracelsus, Roerich, and Sepharial, they had their eye on everyone. He turned toward the end, pale finger brushing through the T’s.

They had nothing by Tamisso, another author on his list, although they did have a copy of The Lost Word by Trevisan — a more recent edition than the 1870 one that Mr. Burke wanted, but still serviceable. But what he was really looking for was Torchia.

And he found him. A whole half-page was dedicated to him, even if the books were few and three-quarters of the space was empty. They must’ve expected to find more of his works in the future.

But as he was reading, the ring started feeling heavier, like its black stone wanted to pull loose. Oftentimes, the splinter of his soul that was trapped inside was a bit of a canary in a coal mine, more sensitive to changes in Tom’s surroundings than he was… He gazed suspiciously toward the ring and put the ledger down.

Tom looked up at the ceiling. It was tall and too dark to see, absorbing the most highly placed volumes like a black hole, like a void. Looking down, between the floorboards, the same infinite darkness. It occurred to him that perhaps the place was cursed. An unlikely idea given that it was a building belonging to muggles, but he’d seen stranger things. And after all, he still didn’t know who the owner was.

He looked at the catalogue again.

Torchia, A.

Key to Captive Thoughts, 1653 — four three copies

A Curious Explanation of Mysteries and Hieroglyphs, 1655 — one copy sold to H. Àristos, 1949

The Three Books of the Art, 1658 — one copy, private ownership → Luce

He scanned further down the line, and there it was: Delomelanicon.

It wasn’t written up like the others. It had no number, no mention of its year of publication, nor even where it was. All it had was a strange symbol next to it, like a plus sign with a downward arrow. Tom couldn’t guess what it meant.

But they had it, they must have. He closed the book with satisfaction and an overflow of greed, and carefully put it back in its place.

With the bookshop all to himself, Tom explored at his leisure. He stepped lightly, almost reverently, through its misty dusty rooms veiled by growing darkness. He cast Lumos when entering the second room, which had no windows to the outside world. A thick red carpet muffled his steps.

His first stop was at the section where she had searched for Helena Blavatsky, assuming the shelves followed the logic of the ledgers and were organised thematically as well as alphabetically. He pulled the ladder over and started to climb, holding the wand between the tips of his fingers.

Names spread before him, ancient and powerful. Some of them were only mentioned in the most proscribed of texts, others he hadn’t even heard of. It was one thing to see them listed so economically, and another to see their naked spines, crack them open, part them, and touch their wavy pages.

He had to pause once he came across a 17th-century copy of the Cyranides. How many men died for merely reading this book… What horror, what beauty. He turned to the page on the use of bezoars and smiled. The illustration braided around the page was of a watersnake, unmoving, done with an almost childish hand. It was from a more innocent time when such magical knowledge was a thing of fear and wonder, exclusive and yet renown, whispered about, admired. Not hidden away.

Holding the wand between his teeth, Tom pulled the ladder and himself a bit further to the right. Its wheels were loud enough to make him wince.

He found a wealth of books in this place that made him feel things he had not felt in a while: greed, desire, admiration… He hadn’t seen so many wonderful tomes since Hogwarts. For long moments in large swaths, he forgot his mission. Eagerly, his hands picked up any volumes he could reach without the ladder tipping over, and he sipped in eager drops the ancient wisdom, a few pages at a time, admiring the crude but honest illustrations before, with a heavy heart, putting them back on the shelf.

Finally, he reached Torchia. A few of his works were there, the same ones mentioned in the ledger, but not the Delomelanicon. Tom brushed his finger on the shelf, and it came up with a fluff of dust. Hadn’t been touched for a long time…

It occurred to him as he climbed down the ladder that they could have had hidden compartments, as such bookstores sometimes did. Borgin and Burkes did too, although theirs was hidden by magic. Muggles would have had some contraption hidden behind a painting or shelf. He cast another glance around him before moving forward again, step by heavy step. Between those dormant shelves, he saw another surreptitious doorway toward another room.

III

The place grew labyrinthian. Tom felt as though he was disturbing a tomb, and without even needing to his steps grew gentler. The ring around his finger ached again, but he ignored it.

He was exploring a glass case with a pyramid of skulls in the corner of a room three doorways from the entrance, further in the building and blissfully chill on the exposed skin of his arms and neck, when suddenly he noticed something about the creaking of the floorboards: he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Tom looked down, his shoes soft on the carpet, and shifted his weight. No sound, but there was a bit of a tilt beneath him as the wood moved. He moved to the side and toed the carpet away. At first glance, he noticed nothing strange, but when he cast Revelio, a piece of metal shone and the edges of a trapdoor revealed themselves before him.

“I’ve got you now,” he grinned.

He stepped away, grabbed the edges of the carpet, and folded it further back. It was a trapdoor alright, large enough for two people to fit through. The area was clean, as if it saw regular use. Could it be a secret way into and out of the shop? Well, he’d seen her always use the front door, so it was most likely a storage area.

He dug into his trouser pocket for something, anything that he could use, and found the Swiss army knife he’d gotten from Clement. The thought occurred to him that it was a misuse of a gift to rob a bookshop with it, but that thought died quickly in Tom’s heated mind. He had a job to do.

He slid its blade between the folds of wood and pressed the handle down. Marvolo’s ring squeezed and pulled at his finger, and Tom cursed at it to be quiet. The trapdoor undulated at the strain as he moved the blade around, but the thing was as good as nailed down on all sides.

“Come on, you piece of muggle trash, open,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

He pushed, edging the wood upwards, and the bit of leverage made it flap as far as its hinges would allow. Holding the wand between his teeth for light, he moved it slightly, checking in every direction for a keyhole. The only thing he found was a burn mark that shone in the faint light, small and round and crested. It was probably a hidden button or a kind of keyhole, the kind of which he’d seen before in a couple of places both at Hogwarts and elsewhere. Tom grinned, moved the blade there, and pressed harder right beneath it.

“Aaaah!” he groaned, nearly dropping the wand from his teeth.

The ring was shooting pain all the way up his arm now, and his muscles strained. He clenched his teeth and pressed the blade in further, deeper, but the longer he tried to get it open, the more useless the attempt seemed, and he was overcome with a feeling of wrongness — as if he actually cared that he was trespassing.

He got up, sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow. The feeling of guilt that had been bubbling in his stomach crested and crawled up his bones until he felt the sickness in his throat. He was overcome with the desire to leave and put this place behind him. A traitorous thought…

No, he wasn’t feeling sick. That nasty little door was enchanted. There was probably a curse on it, not too dissimilar to those placed on Egyptian tombs, meant to ward prospective thieves away. The emotions that swirled in his breast, the guilt, the shame, none of it came from him. It was something he was forced to feel by whatever enchantment guarded the place. What an insidious little spell… He frowned and pointed his wand down at the trapdoor again.

“Finite incantatem.”

Nothing happened.

“Finite incantatem!” he said again, more clearly and imperious.

The trapdoor mocked him with its silence. Tom looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.

“Of all the damned… Revelio,” he cast again, but nothing new appeared. “Alohomora!”

And that was when it struck him.

The spell worked, but just for an instant before it was undone and something fired back at him. A shard of death crawled up his spine and pooled inside his heart, pushing him backwards into the sharp edge of a table. The lamps on it rattled from the impact.

He felt dizzy for a moment, his body numb and cold, then nauseous when his senses came back to him at once. Pain billowed at his lower back so hard it filled his throat with bile. He clung to the edge of the table and kept himself just barely standing, managing the breath to groan.

“By Salazar’s f-fucking… Ow!”

Among all the sudden pain, he noticed that his arm was numb. The ring had stopped hurting him. It got its point across… The door was cursed, and so severely that, if not for his Horcrux, he surely would have died.

Tom clenched his teeth and hissed at the bothersome little entrance, cursing it in parseltongue. He kicked the carpet back over it and rubbed his aching hip where he already felt a bruise forming. There was nothing else he could do there, at least not tonight. He’d have to go back to his hotel, hopefully not limping all the way, and plan his next steps.

“I’ll get you yet,” he muttered with a parting glare. “And whatever mongrel of a mage made you.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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noahmullariii · 3 months

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a much too whiny rant about fic icks

I die a little every time pup, cub or Prongslet comes up in a wolfstar raising Harry (together or separately) fic. especially cub - it makes literally no sense????? are you sure it's Remus John Lupin I'm reading about??? it's his evil doppelganger, I'm telling you. I'm not even sure I could stomach that word ironically.

Prongslet is fine in moderation, I guess, but only as an inside joke, only coming from Sirius and only when Harry's a smol bean. but when it's Prisoner of Azkaban compliant I wanna claw my eyes out.

it's even worse when those terms are used not just in dialogue but in Remus or Sirius' internal monologue as if pup and cub are Harry's freaking pronouns or something. my cub, my pup, cub did this, pup did that... just call him boy or kid or his name for god's sake. I once saw sprog pop up and was delighted cuz at least it's actually british slang.

and don't get me started on Hadrian(us) James Orion Potter-Black (which is just... why the fuck would James give his son the name of his best mate's horrible father AND the last name of his horrible family?? and why would Lily agree to that?) who's simultaneously Lord Potter, Black, Peverell and Slytherin (and, sure, I have a visceral reaction to aristocracy wank in general but even ignoring that - the last 3 literally make no sense since "Lord Black" is Sirius until his death; and both Peverell and Slytherin lines bled into other families ages ago. so being a Potter automatically means you're descended from Peverells as well as being a Gaunt - from Slytherin. and the last of those is Tom Riddle Jr. but that wouldn't make any Potters "Lord Peverell"s or any Gaunts/Riddle "Lord Slytherin"s. those last names are dead. smh).

but, uh, this tangent technically has nothing to do with my initial complaints, it's just that at some point I started thinking of this naming stuff in tandem with nonsensical nicknames as they began appearing in fics together. which is a double homicide, truly.

and look, I definitely understand the desire to make Harry's original name something else cuz it fits nicely with POC Potters headcanon and Dursleys being racist dicks about it, but... Hadrian? I mean, it's not really a big deal when the fic mentions it being his full name but both narration and characters still refer to him as Harry for short - that makes total sense. however when after the name reveal Hadrian replaces Harry completely, it feels super weird and uncanny, making it hard to identify Harry's character in the story altogether.

although I guess you should all knock me off my high horse for being the biggest hypocrite ever, cuz I myself have a headcanon for Harry's name, even if it's less elaborate than Hadrian. also less Roman? that's another thing I don't get - if you want to create a better connection between Harry and his roots, why choose a name of a Roman emperor for a desi kid? since he's usually explicitly desi in all the Hadrian fics. so it's not that I have a problem with renaming him, per se, I just don't understand the choice of Hadrian.

for example, I recently read a fic where he was Pakistani and his name was originally Hami, which is a very nice idea, actually, and makes total sense for such headcanon. mine is Hari btw (हरि in Sanskrit), since I headcanon Potters as Indian, but I didn't come up with that name myself - just saw it somewhere a couple years ago and fell in love. I think it's actually a pretty popular hc now? anyway, it's closer to Harry than any other name I've seen and has so many beautiful meanings that resonate with what I think James and Lily felt towards their son. so yeah, I'm one to talk, boo me.

now, I probably should shut up since this rant has been entirely too negative already, but while I'm on the topic of icky names/nicknames I should circle back to wolfstar cuz gods know I'll never be brave enough to talk about this particular pet peeve in its own post.

Siri, Remu and Remy make my blood boil. Siri could be kinda cute when it's a silly childhood nickname from Regulus, but if any marauder or Lily calls Sirius that - immediate death. Si and Re are a teensy bit better in moderation and if used ironically, but still stab me in the chest. a couple times for good measure. the only somewhat acceptable short form of any of their two names for me is Rem, albeit with a stretch and only because it's an actual version of the name Remus in Catalan and Russian. I know I'm being way too dramatic about this (just like with all of my previous points) but I just don't understand the need to shorten their names. at all. they're only 3 and 2 syllables long and so mystical on their own that any shortening just makes them simultaneously more nonsensical and less remarkable.

both characters literally have established quirky nicknames in canon that you can play with and even shorten to Pads and Moons if you want. Sirius is not a digital assistant and Remus is not the main character from Ratatouille. stop this madness.

plus James is right there. his name has a ridiculous amount of diminutives - Jamie, Jimmy, Jim, Jam, Jem, Jay and even Jimbo if you're into that. why strip Remus and Sirius' magical names of their charm if you can have fun with common names? but I digress.

at the end of the day, my pet peeves are mine only and I should live with them in fragile peace. this post is a personal rant first and foremost and if you disagree, I'm genuinely happy that you enjoy the things I can't. fandom is a playground and we can all find some fun in different corners. I'd also like to point out that I'm not trying to take a jab at fic writers who use any of the aforementioned terms, names or diminutives. I'm only one person, so if I stop reading your work because of my petty biases, it's only my loss and not your problem. hundreds of other fans will enjoy it instead. so keep doing what you love and writing those characters however you want, it's your right!

so yeah, writers and readers - don't take it personally and have your fun! don't listen to me being mean! I'm just making my fandom experience way too convoluted for my own good.

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ohthewh0rror · 7 months

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ETERNALLY YOURS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — The follow up to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear.’ Now that your marriage has been irreparably damaged, where do the two of you go from here?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 2k

A/N: I changed my mind after writing a completely different ending. At first I wanted to make it angst-filled and unhappy but I keep writing sad stuff, and you guys deserve a break. Thank you to my best friend Madie for proof-reading/editing this once again and to @brooklynscherry-z for helping me get a better understanding of Tom & Mattheo’s lore. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this (much shorter) continuation to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear”!

“A letter arrived for you this morning, Y/N,” came the soft voice of your great aunt Delia, her wrinkled hand holding the letter out for you. For a second you were confused, unsure of who would have sent you a letter, especially at such an early hour, until it dawned on you.

Your husband.

A pang of hurt hit your heart at the thought of him. It had been two months since you had seen or spoken to him and though you hated him, another, smaller, part of you missed him terribly. He had been your first love and dearest friend, and his infidelity wasn’t enough to completely erase the love you’ve held for him since the two of you were only seventeen.

As you held the letter in your hands you contemplated not opening it, to instead toss it in the trash and forget it ever arrived. You eyed the entrance to the kitchens, the trash was right through that door, you could throw it away and leave the contents of the letter a mystery. But, as you turned the letter over in your hands, you felt curiosity eating at the back of your mind, beckoning you to open the letter and dissect its contents.

‘Well…it couldn’t hurt,’ you thought, gently unfolding the parchment. As your eyes skimmed over the opening of the letter, you soon realized this was not a letter you should read in the company of others. Folding the letter back up, you looked at your aunt, asking “may I be excused?”

Her eyes darted between the parchment and your eyes, and she looked as if she wanted to ask you something but she waved you off instead, wordlessly telling you that you may take your leave.

You gave her a nod of gratitude before heading to the room you were staying in, trying your hardest to seem normal. Once you entered your room, you made sure to lock the doors and cast a silencing charm for good measure. You did not want your aunt to hear you in the event that you became upset.

Sitting at the desk in the corner of your room, you unfolded the letter and began to read it once again.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been two months since I have seen or spoken to you, and I must admit that I miss you more than I thought myself capable of. I understand that what I did was unforgivable in your eyes, but I hope by telling you everything it will help you process what is going on so we may move forward from this.

A year ago I approached Bellatrix with the proposition of conceiving and carrying my heir. I explained I did this out of a need to produce an heir and you had not been able to get pregnant yourself. Once she had the child, the child would be ours to raise, she was merely going to be a surrogate of sorts; she understood and agreed to the terms and from there we began the affair.

She finally fell pregnant 6 months ago with a boy. While I should've told you about my plans before approaching her, I most definitely should have told you once she was with child. I am sincerely sorry that you found out the way you did. I wish I could have told you myself, under better circumstances.

Please consider coming back home so that we may be a proper family.

Eternally yours, Tom

You felt a few tears slip out and drip from your eyes onto the parchment, smearing the ink that stained the page with its terrible words. Oh how you wish he hadn’t written to you. His answers did not bring any form of acceptance of his actions, only further heartbreak. It was hard for you to comprehend how he could have sex with her and then return home to you as if all was normal.

“Reducio,” you muttered, shrinking the letter. You carefully folded it, being sure not to rip it, before you got out of your seat and made your way to your closet. On the top shelf, in the furthest corner, sat an intricately carved wooden box with flowers lining the top and sides. The initials M.R sat right above the lock. You conjured a small stepping stool, but even with the stool you were still unable to reach it, leaving yourself to blindly swipe your hand across the shelf till you finally felt your fingers bump the edge.

With what you were looking for finally in your grasp, you got off the stool and went back to your desk. You sat down again, reaching towards one of the desk drawers, and pulling it open to retrieve the small key for the box. As soon as the lock clicked, you opened the top, revealing an empty interior.

The box was made to hold important milestone objects and keepsakes for your son. You planned to fill it with your own letters and pictures so that you could look back on it when he is older and no longer needs you, to remind yourself of simpler times. You hadn’t planned on putting anything related to Tom in there. The thought of him was far too painful, and you didn’t want to taint the little bits of happiness within.

Taking the shrunken letter you placed it in the box before sliding off your wedding ring and putting it on top of the letter. As you closed the box once again, you felt as if you were also closing the metaphorical lid on your marriage. You wouldn’t grace Tom with your presence, a simple letter would have to suffice as you decided you were going to effectively cut him out of your life.

Dear Tom,

I will keep this letter simple and to the point. I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to take some form of accountability for your actions, as I know it’s not something that comes easy to you. But, I will not be returning home nor will we be playing at being a happy family. If you want to be a family as badly as you say, then leave our marriage intact but let us live separate lives. Don’t worry, I do not plan to date or remarry, for you are my first and final love.

That all being said, do not contact me again unless it is with divorce proceedings.

P.s. congratulations on the heir you always wanted.

Sincerely, Y/N

Putting your quill down, you read over the letter one more time to be sure this was what you wanted your final words to him to be. Satisfied with what you wrote, you got out of your chair once again and left the room, heading towards the back garden where you knew the owl belonging to your aunt would be.

Walking into the small building that housed her owl you saw the bird, Chipp, still here and not away delivering mail for your aunt. You gave Chipp a few treats as a thank you for going out in the cold for delivering this letter for you before holding the letter out for the owl to take. Chipp happily took the parchment and flew off to take the letter to its recipient.

That was the last time you spoke to Tom. As the months turned to years, Tom became a distant, painful memory.

11 years later

“Mattheo! Wait up!” You called out to your son, as he excitedly ran ahead of you. You were winded trying to keep up with him, trying hard not to lose him in the crowd of teary-eyed mothers and nervous children. When you finally caught up to him, you grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him. “I understand you’re excited, but will you try not to run off,” you were panting slightly, “I would at least like to tell you goodbye.”

Mattheo looked exasperated, trying already to seem too cool to tell his mother bye. “But mum—” he started, trying to justify his running off. “No buts; now, let me see you,” you said, motioning him to turn around. He groaned, turning around to face you. You held him by his arms in front of you, “listen, and actually listen to me for once; listen to your professors and don’t cause trouble, I know how—” you paused mid sentence when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was your husband.

Your husband, who you hadn’t seen in 11 years, with a young boy standing beside him. The two of you locked eyes and you felt a wave of discomfort hit you. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he would be here, his son and Mattheo are close in age, they’d obviously go to school together.

You decided to skip the speech and quickly walk further up the platform, trying to put more room between you and Tom. You didn’t want Tom to approach you and attempt to talk to you or your son. Mattheo didn’t need to go through such a confusing altercation on such an important day. This day was only about him and you wanted it to be special.

Once you put a satisfying amount of room between the two of you, you stopped and your son decided to ask why that man was staring at you. Waving him off, you explained, “he’s just someone I used to know, that’s all.” Mattheo looked like he had more questions, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask them. Instead, you gave him a parting kiss on the forehead and told him goodbye before all but pushing him onto the train.

You backed away and watched Mattheo walk further into the train before he finally disappeared from sight. You felt your eyes well up with tears at the reality of your son leaving for Hogwarts, giving you definitive proof of how old he was getting. It made you wish you possessed a time turner, just so you could go back to the beginning and do it all over again.

As you shuffled back toward the exit, you were lost in thought over how Mattheo would do at Hogwarts. What house would he be in? Would he make friends? How would he do academically? You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed someone closing in on you until it was too late.

You felt a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you back slightly causing you to stumble into their chest. You whipped around, about to give the owner of the offending hand a piece of your mind when you saw who was touching you.

Tom looked at you, and though his face remained neutral, you swear you saw a glint of hurt in his eyes. He released your arm only to place a hand on the small of your back, “walk with me, Y/N?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him a small nod and walking with him back towards the entrance to platform 9 ¾. There was a moment of tense, awkward silence before he spoke.

“What is his name?” Tom asked. You thought about whether you wanted to tell him or not, as you knew where this conversation was headed.

“Mattheo,” was all you said. Not giving away his full name, as you weren’t ready to admit you’d given him Tom’s last name.

Tom went silent again and you looked up to see him deep in thought. Not wanting to make the situation any more uncomfortable by just staring at him, you looked away, waiting for him to speak once again. Though, once he spoke, you wish he had kept the awkward silence between you two.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @mypolicemanharryyy @jessysfangirlworld @homan-oid @motherofdragons1998 @theeslutintheroom @pasta01 @lovefks @mwahbella @storminacloud @brooklynscherry-z @eri-s-big-sis @eversei @tomhollandisabae @rlblackbarbie @cyphah @cookielovesbook-akie

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #take it #I’m going to bed

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phoebecoleanddamonelenafan · 5 months

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Tomarry fanfics worth reading (Part 2)

Wizarding Britain's Finest by duplicity

Summary:

Who was Voldemort with his lieutenants, his beloved followers? Who was the man that so many willingly called Lord?

Harry had witnessed Voldemort's madness and cruelty. He had yet to witness the inspiration behind such loyal, fanatical devotion.

Soon, however, he would.

Before they convinced you life is war by EclipseWing

Summary:

Harry's got the Imperius Curse tripping off his tongue and Tom's suddenly acutely aware of other people's emotions.

[that mutant reincarnation au nobody asked for but I wrote anyway]

Hauntingly by ObsidianPen

Summary:

Harry is put under a sleeping draught. A story of obsession.

You have to me a member on A03 to read this one.

Heir Apparent by MonsieurClavier

Summary:

When a Voldemort in his thirties encounters a time-travelling, seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, he makes a dangerous—and hilarious—assumption. He assumes that Harry is his son. And his son, of course, deserves the very best.

A confused Harry plays along for the sake of self-preservation, but living with his “father” is proving to be intolerable in more ways than one.

Keep Your Enemies Closer by Riddletobien

Summary:

Voldemort conquers wizarding Britain in Harry's sixth year, starting with a surprise attack on Hogwarts. Harry is allowed to live and his previous training with Snape merely... continues. Realization comes when Voldemort saves his life, of all things. Harry struggles to deal with friends and enemies alike, his strange influence over Dark Marks and Tom Riddle inside his head. He gets a chance at influence, but should he take it?

I Have Seen Your Heart by Arliene

Summary: The arrival of his nemesis is the least of Harry Potter's problems. Now that the war is over, he finds himself drifting away from all that held him together in the past, trying to find a new purpose in his life. Being framed for murder forces Harry to be on the run and this time the only company he takes with him is Tom Riddle. The young Dark Lord faces a future he did not expect, meets an oddity who killed everything he strived to be. And yet he finds himself obsessed with his murderer, a determined man searching for answers and reaching for the sky once more. Harry Potter's purpose and Tom Riddle's destiny, seemingly entwined. They say change is overrated. But choice is everything.

This one ends on a bit of a cliffhanger but is still worth reading.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair, Ophidias (Audair)

Summary :

In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

You have to be a member on A03 to read this one.

These Violent Delights by Ghidorahs_child

Summary:

Harry never thought he’d survive Voldemort, and four years after the end of the Second Wizarding War he finds himself looking for something that will give him a new purpose.

Not sure himself of what he truly wants, on his birthday he jokingly tells Ron and Hermione he wishes for one last adventure for old times’ sake, before finally moving on and settling down.

Little did he know that he would not only get his wish, but also so much more than he bargained for.

#tomarry #tomarry fanfiction #fanfic recs #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction recs

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antebunny · 4 months

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So there's a subgenre of fics in the Harry Potter fandom wherein a person conceived while one of their parents is under the influence of a love potion will become aroace at birth. The origin, afaik, are two insidiously awful decisions of JKR combining: 1) she reinvented date rape drugs/roofies aka love potions, without realizing it I guess, and 2) she said that Voldemort was asexual, because she's never seen a marginalized identity she didn't spit on.

Since Merope Gaunt (Voldemort's mother) used a love potion on Tom Riddle Sr. (Voldemort's dad) I guess people got the idea that what if love potions caused asexuality? And asexuality + aromanticism, of course, meant evil. Here's an excerpt from one of those fics in which Bill Weasley explains being aro/ace to Hermione:

[Image ID]

"No. I just dated because that was what you did. I never really felt anything for them. A few kisses, plenty of hand-holding. I made out in a few broom closets, and had one very uncomfortable make-out session up the top of the Astronomy Tower that I eventually ended by pretending I heard Filch coming past on a patrol. I even tried making out with a guy once in case that was it–nothing. I never told mum about that, of course. Good wizards don't shame their families like that."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, you know."

He shrugged. "It doesn't apply to me anyway. I'm not gay. I wasn't anything, and I was trying to accept that and be content with it. It was good enough. Until I met Fleur." His eyes lit up with joy as he spoke about her.

[Second Image ID]

"Look, the point is with her allure from being part-Veela, I love her. Like I can never love anyone else. I don't want to lose that. You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else. I've dated people I said I cared for, but I wouldn't have died for them. Well, out of logical choice I might risk my life, but not from love. But I would die for Fleur. Do you understand? She makes me a better person. I would do anything to make her happy. I'm not alone in the world anymore."

She nodded slowly. "I see." It wasn't so much him manipulating Fleur, as him permitting her to manipulate him. Into feeling. "I didn't realise it could be that bad." She still thought he should confess, but it didn't sound like he was hurting Fleur–he really did love her.

[End Image ID]

I read this fic years ago, and at the time I genuinely had not thought about my sexuality at all. I would've never called myself aro or ace. Still, reading this felt like being repeatedly punched in the face. I kept on waiting for Hermione to say something similar to what she said after Bill made a homophobic comment. After all, she went out of her way the first time, didn't she. Instead, what I got was essentially:

Bill: I don't usually feel romantic or sexual attraction. So there's something wrong with me.

Hermione: Yeah lmao. But there's nothing wrong with being gay!

I've been (reading) on Ao3 since 2016, and in all that time I've seen plenty of subtle racism, sexism, etc. But I've never seen anything as plainly stated as this. To this day I have yet to hear any aro/ace people describe the experience of being aro/ace in any of the following ways: "How could I forgive myself if we brought a child into the world to suffer the emptiness I lived with my whole existence[?]" /"You should be unable to love." / "You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else."

I could not understand why Bill described it as "emptiness" or "feeling nothing." I still cannot find a single aro/ace person who would describe themselves as empty. The most I have ever heard is: "I wish I was normal" (meaning I wish I fit in, I wish to be accepted by other people). Historically, many aro/ace people married and had kids, conforming to societal norms, and I am sure many believed there was something wrong with them or hoped to grow out of it. I was one of them. On a very personal note, I suspect that my father is too. I am certain that he's never heard the terms asexual or aromantic in his life. But if you think I'll ever discuss his sexuality with him, you're out of your damn mind.

Now, I know it's really easy to find this fic from these quotes. I chose to include them anyways because I think it's important to show how blatant it was. My Tumblr blog isn't exactly a platform, but for the five people reading this: please, please do not go after the author. I truly believe that they had no ill-intent. In the comments of this fic, a few people bring up variations of "it sounds like Bill is just aro/ace" and the author is consistently understanding. Here are some of the author's comment on that fic:

[Image ID]

I very much understand what you're saying. It's a tricky thing for me to address, however. For the core idea I'm playing with is basically the evilness of "love potions". And part of that is exploring JKR's idea that Voldemort, being unable to love due to his mother using a love potion on his father, was a *monster* because of that. Perhaps that doesn't come across very clearly (there's a little bit more of it in the prequel), that it's one of the assumptions I'm trying to undermine. ("Love potions are funny/romantic", "Voldemort is a monster because he could not love", "Harry's power was that he could love - he's not a monster like Voldemort", "There's nothing wrong with selling love potions to teens/adults because it's not 'real' love".)

I feel like I'm already poking at the inherent problem of framing "people who cannot love" as "monsters/psychopaths" by showing Bill and Harry's struggles with self acceptance, and Bill finding a way to love (though do note he'd been making peace with the idea he wasn't attracted to anyone, prior to meeting Fleur). I really don't like the canonical take on love-redeems/love-is-the-best-power/the-loveless-are-monsters, so I'm messing with it a bit. Exploring other people than Voldemort, ones we admire, who are also dealing with being unable to love. Does that make sense? Now, that doesn't mean I'm doing a perfect job at it, but I'm trying my best to explore that theme around the edges of my Dramione story.

[End Image ID]

The author's intention was to show how other characters, made aro/ace via love potion like Voldemort, were not evil or sociopaths. I don't know why all the characters were so aro/acephobic, but sometimes fics get away from you and you don't address everything you wanted to. I don't know why the aro/ace characters had so much internalized shame and hatred when the term bachelor has been in use for centuries, but we fanfic authors love writing self-esteem issues and I would be a hypocrite to say otherwise. I don't know why the author never tagged acephobia or internalized acephobia, but no one HAS to tag anything.

I don't know if the author ended up writing that fic where Harry comes to accept his aro/asexuality. It's totally understable if they didn't; I have failed to write many fics that I really did want to write. Sometimes it's just like that. I really, truly believe that the author had the best of intentions and is not aro/acephobic, just severely misled on what that experience is like.

My beef is not with this author. I used their words to highlight a reoccurring and popular sentiment that I hate. My real beef is that this fic is popular. This is an entire subgenre of Harry Potter fics. I actually decided to write this post because some random person on the internet said, a few days ago, something along the lines of: "Remember when JKR invented a date rape drug that turned people into sociopaths? Yeah…" (And also because I was up until 3 am last night writing a dumb trash angst one-shot about it).

I'd wager that the vast, vast majority of people who write or read those fics don't feel the same way. But the condescension is baked into the very premise of that trope. "Oh poor you, it must be so hard, so lonely going through life without ever loving another person. You must feel so empty inside."

It's actually people who say similar things that make me feel isolated. Most of the time I feel free, like I've cracked this secret code, like I'm able to see things clearly that people so hung up over sex and romance can't. Other times I feel so left out I wish I was "normal." Mostly, being aro/ace is lonely, annoying, exhausting, and liberating.

It wasn't until last year that a friend told me that some people actually do have trouble speaking to someone they've never met before, just because they find that someone attractive. I thought that only happened in stories. But I don't want to get nervous meeting new people based on their looks, I don't want to treat people differently based on how much I want to have sex with them. I wish my friends in high school had never pressured me to come out as bisexual. I wish all the other similarly liberal, queer communities I've found since didn't insist on associating sex and dating with emotional comfort. I wish I could magically stop my parents from expecting me to ever get married and have kids.

But I can't.

Anyways, that's it for today. I'm not sure what the point of writing this was. I really don't want anyone to get hurt or attacked because of it. This is not a callout, or a hate brigade, or any sort of call-to-action. I don't want people to get up-in-arms about this. I'm just tired. I suppose I just wanted to put my feelings out there, and well, this is my Tumblr.

#asexuality #aromantism #aroace #acearo #aphobia #acephobia #asexual #aromantic #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction

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